#some took a lot longer to put together than I expected

[dilf-rot]

Avoidant Attachment

based on Anon request :  could you do a fic of meeting Logan and wade in the void and joining the team? Logan and you are into each other but are kinda awkward hide behind being mean to each other wades so over it later on smuttt <3333

Word Count: 5841 

Tags: Wolverine x Reader, Worst!Wolverine x Reader, Logan howlett x Reader, Fem!Reader (kinda?), Wade is here too, Meeting in the Void, Deadpool 3, Deadpool and Wolverine, Laura is Also here, 5 people in a one bedroom apartment is a great idea, Althea is here briefly, dogpool mention, slower burn but like not really, mutual pining, Wade and Laura as wingmen, insults as flirting, eventual smut, One bed trope included, P in V, Riding

AN: This one took a lot longer than I was expecting, probably since I haven’t written Wade before and I didn’t want it to suck, and also because I was quite busy irl. Regardless, thank you for the request and your patience, Hope you don’t mind my interpretation of the prompt<3

MDNI 18+

—------------------

The Void. Boring as Hell, and yet somehow worse than hell. At least Hell would grant you company, shitty company, but better than the dust and trash here. You don’t even remember why you got put here. Probably some bullshit you weren’t even responsible for. You had a pretty lame set up, just a hole in the ground really. And you’d find garbage to shift through, look for food. You had managed to do pretty well on your own for a decent amount of time. Other than being lonely, and the occasional breakdown, things weren’t so bad.

The air was stale and unremarkable, as was the sky, no sign of oncoming doom or any excitement for the day. Or so you thought. 

Over the horizon of dusty dirt and forgotten garbage, appeared two silhouettes. 

As they approached, inching closer and closer you debated on whether you should interact or just ignore, they didn’t seem like they had been here long. 

You watched closely waiting for your moment to make a move. Listening to them as they approached.

Deadpool. Common, usually annoying. 

But the one with him. That’s a rather rare sight. You had never seen one of him before.

They seemed like they were on a mission, maybe trying to escape from here. If you could escape, maybe you could return to something approaching a normal life again. 

You decide to take the chance.

“Hello,” You pop out from your little shelter. Both men jolt into action, blades and guns drawn. The man in yellow, the interesting rare man, had blades coming out of his hands. “Oh no, not a threat.” 

They regard each other and then put the weapons away.

“Knew I smelt something,” his voice was rough and it added to his appeal for sure. 

“And you didn’t want to say anything? Some blood hound you are!” Deadpool spoke, punching the gruff one in the shoulder.

“Sorry, I know you’re a Deadpool. But you are?” You point to him. 

“Logan,” “Wolverine,” they speak out in tandem. 

“Right, so… what’re you doing this far out?” 

“Not telling you random dirt dweller,” Deadpool looked back towards Logan, and seemed to be weighing his options.

“Ok well, if you decide to be friendly I could offer my help.”

“You don’t look like you’d be of much help,” Logan retorted as he looked you over. You were obviously smaller and not as strong as either of them, but you had some tricks up your sleeve.

“Ouch, I would be offended if you didn’t have hair like kitty ears.” You pointed up at Logan’s hair and he seemed surprised by your response. “I’ve been in the void longer than you, I’m sure I know some things that would be useful to you,”

“Listen, Kid-”

“Yeah, me and Kitty Cat here are trying to get back at that bald freak show of a woman and escape this hell. So unless you know how to do that, I’d stay out of it, dust bunny.” 

You laugh and look at the state of them, confused but still combative, barely holding it together and hardly friends. “That’s a good one. Good luck with Cassandra then, Ketchup and Mustard.”

Deadpool gasps and Logan seems to have the inklings of a smile on his face but it quickly fades when you turn to look at him. You sit down on a nearby piece of rubble and watch as they take a few steps away and start to argue about what the plan is. You smile and wave when they look back at you.

“Ok, so what do you know?” Deadpool asks, rushing back up to you. And so you do your best to fill him in on as much as you know about the void itself and Cassandra. All of which seems to not be that useful to him as he just sort of brushes it off and continues, “Well as much as I’d love to have you on the team sunshine, seems like Wolvie over there isn’t too keen on it.” He points over to Logan, who turns away and kicks some dust and debris around. “But, between you and me, he’s just bad with girls. Especially pretty ones with quick mouths.” 

You blush a bit but return a quick retort, “That’s fine, not like I have anything to escape back to anyway. Good luck, random Deadpool.”

“It’s Wade.” 

“Right,” You wave as he runs back to Logan. You imagined it wouldn’t be that long before you see them again, mostly because you had planned on following them, or at least trailing them for long enough to find a new place to stay. 

—-----------

You meet them again at the safe house with Laura, she drove them here and plopped them down without a word. She had been very welcoming when you had wandered this way in search of food, and let you join them for a quick meal. You had told her that you saw Wolverine, and her interest had been piqued. She explained to you everything that had happened before she was sent here, and the two of you bonded over not having something to return too. Although now, with this Wolverine sitting in the same space, it seemed like her chances were looking up.

You figured you’d let them be once they woke up, and wait it out. By the time everyone had finished their speeches, you just stood behind them and waved. You didn’t have much to say, everyone else had much more valid reasoning for wanting to escape than you. You could hardly remember life before the void, if you even had one. Luckily, nobody ever bothered to press you about it, probably assuming you had forgotten for a valid reason. So when Deadpool- Wade, asked you for your input, you sort of just shrugged. Listening to them all plotting was entertaining at least, you were sure you would be of much use, maybe an extra distraction, at the very least you could cover them enough to get the job done. 

You noticed Logan slip out with a bottle of liquor in his hands. You gave Laura a nod before following him outside.

He had started a fire, and was sitting watching the flames.

“So how’d someone like you end up with someone like that?” You gesture back up to the house, as you stand against a tree, watching the fire flicker in front of him.

“It’s complicated.” He says taking a swig from the bottle.

“It always is.” Silence runs through the trees, nothing but crackling fire and the dead stale air of the void. “At least he seems fun.”

“Hah,” He breathes out.

“If that’s what you’re into.”

“No.” His gruff demeanor drops for a second, the bottle halting as he brings it down from his lips.

“No?”

He looks you over, before turning away.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll say a prayer for your liver,” You reference the bottle in your hand. He nods, and you walk back up to the house, passing Laura on your way in. She’d probably have better luck cracking him than you.

You wondered if you would ever have a chance to mean something to him, to be more than some small tag along he sniffed out in the dirt. If he would ever find you to be a friend, an ally, someone to talk to, depend on. But you hardly just met, and hardly discussed anything other than half baked insults and nihilistic opinions of the void and your futures.  

—----------------

Wade and Logan had somehow convinced the TVA after everything with Cassandra to allow you and Laura to stay in this universe, and you weren’t sure how or why they wanted you to come along. Laura made sense, he felt responsible for her, and to make up for losing her Logan, to make up for missed moments. 

You? You hardly had a clue why they wanted you here. Or why they offered to let you stay with them until you found something else. You were surprised that Althea would agree to having 5 people sleeping in a tiny apartment. You appreciated the shelter, you were just very very confused by the entire situation. 

“Hello my little floor sleeper, how were your dreams? You were moaning about something…” He slides up next to you in the kitchen as you're pouring a cup of coffee.

“Hi, Wade.” You sip from the mug, not answering his nonsense.

“So,” he jumps up to sit on the counter in front of you, “You gonna spill? Tell me all about your honey badger dream fling? I was surprised you didn’t just wake up and mount him right there on the floor.”

“Shut up, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, the three of us sleep in the same tiny space, I hear everything.” 

“I’m gonna steal the couch space from you if you don’t drop it.”

Laura had been given a space in Althea’s room since the boys figured she deserved it, and You, Logan, and Wade were stuck in the living room. Rotating between the couch and cheap air mattresses, usually you just stayed on the floor and let Logan and Wade fight over the couch space. Compared to sleeping on grass and dirt in the void, an air mattress was a definite improvement. As long as Mary Puppins didn’t lick you to death in your sleep, it wasn’t a bad deal. 

“Come on, just admit you like Loggie Bear and I’ll get you some alone time with or without the couch.” 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Currently, no.”

You sigh, and walk towards the bathroom to change, locking the door behind you as Wade continues to ramble and try to get you to slip and say something about Logan. But you won’t, even if he is right.

There were many nights where you thought about climbing into bed next to him and pressing your face against his chest, breathing in his scent, being held close to him by those utterly ridiculous arms, having him place warm chaste kisses against the top of your head. But you wouldn’t.  

You hardly knew him, and what you knew about him led you to believe that he was not the kind of man to be interested in someone like you. Although he had become more pleasant after having been invited into Wade’s life. Some days he still was that gruff sort of emotionally unavailable man you met in the void, but other days he’s sweet and gentle and kind, usually whenever Laura’s around. It’s as if he’s been given a reason to live again and he’s navigating how to be a person again. 

After you get dressed, you grab your bag and head out, avoiding Wade and his nonsense. You told Laura you’d meet her after her class and go to a cafe she’s been wanting to try. It’s just down the street from the apartment, but the walk is nice and gives you time to get your thoughts back in order. Trying to keep Wade’s pestering from seeping in and getting you to slip up.

When you get to the cafe, Laura is waiting for you outside. You go in and are met with soft florals, sleek wood finish, and the overwhelming smell of coffee. It is so cozy and bright, a welcome break from the dim and crowded apartment. Laura orders something you didn’t know was a thing, and you opt for a simple latte. She finds this funny and smiles at you, “Don’t you want something sweet?”

“No, I’m alright.” You lean against the wall as you wait for your order.

“What’s with you and Logan’s hatred for sugar?” She asks as she slides over to stand next to you.

“I don’t hate sugar, I’m just not in the mood for it.” You shrug and stare at the counter.

“At least you get milk with your coffee, better than black like Logan drinks.” She laughs again and grabs your order when it’s called. The two of you find a nice table by the window and enjoy watching the people passing by. When a particularly handsome man passes by, Laura perks up and asks, “How about that one?”

“He’s alright, not really my type though,” You shrug your shoulders and take another sip from your cup.

“You’re right, I already know your type.” The grin on your face reminds you of how Wade greets you in the mornings.

“Oh yeah? What's that?” You look at her quizzically. 

“Starts with an L and ends with an ogan”

You groan, “Don’t I get enough of that from Wade?”

“I think everyone can see it but you, even Al.” She looks up at you from her drink, in a way you both know she’s right.

“Wow,” is all you can muster in response. 

“I don’t know why you won’t do something about it, and look if you’re worried about me, don’t be. I give you full permission to pursue my not Dad kinda Dad.” 

You quickly try to change the subject, and once your coffee's finished and you’ve loitered around, you walk back in a knowing silence. 

You do have some sort of crush on Logan, but you feel like it would be too ideal to expect him to share those feelings. Especially when you aren’t one hundred percent sure what those feelings even are. He is exceptionally good looking, and well built. If it weren’t for his confrontational attitude and lack of expression, you’d be so certain in your attraction. But there is something blocking you from fully admitting it to yourself.

Maybe it is simply your lack of self, having to build back an identity from nothing, that keeps you from knowing if He is it for you. Even though sometimes he is all you can think about. When you catch him playing dad with Laura. When you catch him helping Althea, a gentle smile plastered on his face as he speaks soft and gentlemanly. When he falls asleep on the couch with Mary Puppins in his arms. The images of the side he works so hard to hide, the soft domesticity he allows himself so rarely. That is what really sticks in your brain.

Along with the less than innocent images you have carved into your brain. Like that time he forgot you were home and came out from the bathroom only wrapped in a towel. The water clinging to his muscles and dripping from his hair. Or when he had his sleeves rolled up while walking around the apartment, the skin shiny from sweat, and all you could think about was what it would feel like to be held in place by them.

When you remember yourself, both you and Laura have made it back to the apartment. 

—-------

You were surprised that for once, everyone was home for dinner, and it wasn’t even a special occasion. Wade decided that it would be easiest to order some pizzas to avoid having to cook. You didn’t complain, even if you would have preferred a home cooked meal, pizza was fine. Of course he had gone to pick it up and left you with Logan, Laura, and Althea. She, reasonably so, had her spot already picked out in the armchair by the window. Logan and Laura were sitting on opposite sides of the couch, watching something on tv. All the while you sat on the floor, legs folded over each other, leaning back on your hands. 

“Why don’t you come sit on the couch?” Laura had asked, and you knew she already knew the answer, which was that you didn’t want to be so close to Logan that you would be touching. You had been cultivating a very specific environment with him, one where if you could just avoid any close contact with him, you could pretend like your heart didn't ache at the thought of him.

“I’m good here,” You didn’t bother looking away from the tv, which you weren’t even watching. 

“Come on,” Laura patted the cushion next to her. 

“Maybe I don’t want to sit next to the cat,” You looked over your shoulder at them. Logan was leaning back into the cushions behind him.

“I don’t want to sit next to you either,” His tone was only slightly malicious.

“Good.”

“Just sit on the couch,” Laura insisted. 

“No. He reeks, I think the animal dna gave him the scent too,” You waved your hand in front of your nose.

“But I don’t smell,” Laura sniffed her shirt.

“You reek too, ya know?” Logan pointed to Mary Puppins in the corner, “Probably cause you’re always sleeping next to that.” 

“Thanks. She’s actually a better roommate than you.” 

“You all stink,” Althea commented from her spot. 

As you stood up to walk towards the kitchen the door swung open. “PIZZA TIME!” Wade shouted, carrying the stack of boxes into the apartment. 

You ate mostly in silence, as Wade rambled on about something or someone that you had no interest in. Lately he was obsessed with those trashy reality tv shows were people all live in one house and things go wrong one way or another. You felt like you were already living in that, no need to watch strangers go through it too. It’s not that you felt like you were walking on eggshells, or that you weren’t welcome. More so that you were waiting for this whole thing to blow up in your face. 

—---------

It was late in the morning when you managed to roll out of your bed. Logan and Wade had already been awake and were trying their hardest to be quiet. Rather, Logan was quiet, and Wade was not. You didn’t hear what they were talking about, only that Logan mumbled something under his breath and Wade turned to see you sitting up on the floor.

“Good morning sleeping beauty! Pancakes or waffles?” He turned to you and you saw he was wearing one of those tacky ‘kiss the chef’ aprons.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and stood up to stretch, “Whichever you’re less likely to burn.” 

Wade feigned offense, as you walked into the bathroom to brush your teeth and hair. “How do you manage to sleep so soundly down there?” Wade called from the kitchen as you walked back into the living room.

“I don’t.” You pulled out a chair and sat at the dining table, still groggy. “Which is why I need to get a job, and my own place.” 

“You’re leaving me?” Wade gasped, and crossed his hands over his heart. “How could you? What about the kids?” He started making a big fuss about it as if you hadn’t told him before that this had been your plan. “I can’t believe you would leave me alone with honey badger and the little ones! I can’t raise them alone.”

“Everyone that lives here is an adult, Wade.”

“Let her be,” Laura said as she slid into the kitchen and sat next to you. She smiled at you and nodded. 

Wade and Logan joined you at the table, sliding the plates of pancakes to you and her. They weren’t burnt, which was progress. 

—--------

You had spent the day job hunting, and apartment hunting, which was not as important since you kinda needed the money first. The cafe you had been to with Laura was hiring, though not having much of a resume due to the whole void and lack of a world thing, probably meant your chances of getting hired were slim. You submitted an application anyway, and to a few other shops and things in the area. Hopefully something would stick.

There really weren't many options in the area for apartments either, but when you ran into the building manager they had mentioned that one of the other units on your floor might be opening up soon. It wasn’t ideal to be in the same building as Wade and the others, but it was your only lead at the moment. 

When Wade got home, he had a sort of look in his eyes, which you had learned meant something was up. And when Laura came home with the same sort of look, you were even more suspicious. 

“What are you two doing?” You asked, approaching them in the kitchen.

“Well I thought I could do something nice for you,” Wade had his hands behind his back, holding something hidden from you. “And Logan,” he whispered but you still caught it.

“What?” Logan appeared from the bathroom, and leaned against the wall.

Wade handed you a piece of paper, “Tada!” You looked over the paper, it was a reservation confirmation for a hotel. “A magical getaway for you and the kitty cat to work out your differences at an all inclusive resort!”

“This is a Best Western.” The dates on the sheet were for tomorrow, Friday, until Sunday morning. 

“Did I stutter?” Wade stood with his hands on his hips.

“Who said I wanted to do this?” Logan asked, coming up behind you to look at the paper. He was so close you could almost feel his warmth against you. 

“Come on, you complain about the air mattress all the time,” Laura started, “This is your chance for a real bed.”

“Ok? So why do I have to go with her,” He was looming behind you, and the deep vibrations of his voice made your cheeks redden.

“It was cheaper to have two guests than one.” 

“Fine,” He walked away. You were also surprised that he would so quickly agree to something like this. As it was so obviously a set up. A plot against you.

“Perfect! Now go get packing!” Wade slapped you on the shoulder, and smiled. You knew this was all his idea. 

—-------

You were expecting this to be a set up, but when you opened the door and saw only one bed you knew it to be true. Logan walks in while you hold the door and he drops down onto the edge of the bed. You sigh as you drag your bag in and make a mental note to get back at Wade later. You turn the TV on to try to dispel the oppressive silence in the room, but all that's on the hotel cable is questionably written Hallmark movies. Logan shifts on the bed, and you hear it creak under his weight. You wonder what he would feel like on top of you, if he would crush you entirely.

 You sit in the chair that's against the wall, peering out through the cracks in the curtains to stare out at the parking lot, the sun is low against the horizon, and it’s surprisingly quiet. You can hear the fabric of the cheap hotel sheets rustling under Logan, along with the sound of his breathing, as he leans back into the bed, and you wonder how long you’ll be able to survive in a small room alone with him.

Despite having slept in the same room for the past few months, this is an entirely different situation. There’s no Wade, or Laura, or Mary puppins, or Althea. It is just you and him, in a hotel room, with one bed. Which was certainly a set up from Wade, in his quests to get you to admit your feelings for Logan. 

“Are you hungry?” You try to break the silence in the most mundane way possible, at least to save yourself from the discomfort.

“I could eat,”

“We could get room service?”

“Fine by me.” You toss him the menu and once you both decide on what to get you call it in. It was going to take a while, so you decided to take advantage of the luxury of a hotel shower. Telling Logan you wouldn’t be too long and to let you know if the food came before you were done. 

The shower is nice, clean white tiles, and a rather standard sort of set up. It is nice to have some time to yourself, despite Logan being in the other room, you try to allow yourself this time to relax. Letting the hot water soak into your skin and soothe your aches and pains. The sound of the water blocking out any thoughts or concerns about the current situation, letting you forget, at least momentarily, that you would be having to sort out the sleeping arrangements. The hotel soap is tropical, but gentle, not too overwhelmingly sweet or fruity. As you lather up you can barely hear the sounds of the tv in the other room. It is so still and unremarkable. It feels normal, but somehow you wonder if you can ever shake the loneliness of time in the void, if you can allow yourself to have a normal life again. As if you can build back something you don’t even remember. As if you deserve this space that has miraculously been carved out for you, for some reason unbeknownst to you. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door, and the noise of Logan’s steps going to retrieve the room service. You quickly rinse and towel off, wrapping up your hair and sliding into the hotel bathrobe. 

“Food’s here,” Logan calls from behind the bathroom door. You wait until you hear him sit back down on the bed before opening the door and returning to your spot in the chair. 

The two of you eat in silence, and you can’t help but notice his eyes on you. You wonder if it is just in your head, or if he is actually trying to steal glances at you from across the way. You tried to ignore him, to stare fully at the trash tv movie, or at the weird art on the walls. Anything but him. If you could just pretend like he wasn’t there, you could make it for the next two nights. 

Although being this close to him in a small hotel room was not the ideal scenario to make forgetting about him easy. His breathing was audible. His presence was palpable. Even the vague scent of whiskey, cigars, and sweat was radiating from his position on the bed. Every little detail filled your mind with a fog, and all that was running through your brain was him. Over and over. Logan was everywhere. 

“You want to sleep soon?” His voice cut through the haze and you practically snapped your neck to look over at him.

“Hm? Oh… uh yeah probably.” You couldn’t help but look directly into his eyes, and you felt like you should disappear so that he couldn’t make you feel so foolish. So utterly trapped by the idea of him. “I can Just take the cushions from the chair and sleep on the floor,”

“That defeats the whole point of Wade’s gift.”

“So?” You started pulling the cushions of the chair and throwing them on the floor.

“You can sleep up here in the bed,” His voice was commanding. It was no longer a polite suggestion. “I don’t bite.”

“Right but-” As you go to protest, he interrupts.

“We can face opposite ways.” 

And so that is how you ended up in your pajama shorts and a ratty tee shirt, in bed with Logan. Who, true to his word, had his back facing you, and you had your back facing him. You could hear your heart beating, and no matter what you told yourself you could not get it to slow down. His presence, only inches away, was consuming you. Your mind is unable to stop racing with images of him holding you down, touching you, eating you alive. Making you squirm beneath him. You squirmed and thrashed trying to get comfortable enough to fall asleep, but even with your eyes screwed shut you couldn’t.

“Stop moving,” Logan’s voice was low and rumbly. He turned towards you, and laid his arm over your middle, pulling your back against him. “Go to sleep,” He murmured, his lips against the back of your head. 

He was warm and solid behind you, his body pressed to yours gently. His grasp on you wasn’t tight, but the sheer weight of him kept you firmly in place. As you tried to quell your heart and steady your breathing, you finally managed to drift asleep. And stay asleep, the entire night. 

—-----

The hotel was so quiet and peaceful, and clean, compared to the apartment. You managed to sleep soundly, and stay asleep until late in the morning. You had nearly forgotten about the situation, until you were met with Logan’s arm still snuggly wrapped around you as you opened your eyes.

His lips were pressed to the back of your head, his muscular frame firmly pressed against your back. His grip had tightened in the night, and he had pulled you even closer to himself. As you tried to remove yourself from him, he grumbled against you, “Stay.”

“Logan-” You tried to protest, to escape from the growing embarrassment and heat building up in your body.

“Just a bit longer.” He groaned, and pressed himself further into you. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the growing bulge against your lower back. 

“Logan, please. Let me get up.” You pushed against his arm, and tried to pull yourself away but you were no match for him. 

“Why?” His voice was losing the grogginess of sleep, he was almost fully awake now. 

“Because-” You tried again to free yourself.

“Don’t you like me?” He sounded cocky, the question perhaps meaning to be playful but it stopped you dead in your tracks.

“I-” You stiffen, unable to react accordingly. 

“Then, stay.” Taken aback by his words and sudden clingy behavior, you realized that maybe Laura had been right, and everyone, including Logan, could see it. The way you had begun to feel about him, the almost immediate crush you developed as soon as you spotted him in the void, the way you felt thankful to have the chance at life again, simply because you wanted the chance to spend it with him.

You lay stuck in his arms for an unknown amount of time, the silence makes you a little uneasy, but his warmth and tenderness keeps you from leaping away. You didn’t imagine him to be someone so gentle, although you had glimpsed some of his more domestic behaviors when he thought it was just Him and Laura at home, and he would fuss over her like how you would want a good father to do. You felt safe and held by him, the frantic thoughts and anxieties being melted away into the warmth of him and his body against yours. 

As you nearly drift asleep again, he speaks, “Turn around.” And so you do, clumsily, but when you see his face those frantic thoughts and the racing of your heart begins again.  

“So pretty like this,” He murmurs, his face and voice soft. And before you can respond he closes the gap between you, his hand lacing in your hair and pulling you into him as he presses his lips against your gentle and steady. The brief taste of him makes you crave more.

As he pulls away to search your face for any signs of discomfort, you pull him back to you, your hands reaching up to his face to crash your lips into his. You whimper against him as his hands run down your spine and land on your hips, pulling you as close to him as he can. You can feel your arousal pooling between your thighs as he darts his tongue in to meet yours, twisting and tangling yourself with him as much as you can. The months of unspoken tension pouring out of you and dissipating as you desperately try to push yourself against him. You bring your hand down to paw at his bulge, darting your fingers across the fabric of his pajama pants. 

He smiles against you as he catches your hand with his and bring it under the waistband. You gasp when you realize he had not been wearing anything underneath his pants. Your fingers wrapping around him, the warmth and size of him in your hand making your head spin. 

His hands find their way to the edge of your shorts, pulling them and your panties down your legs as he breaks the kiss only for a moment to find his breath. His fingers trace up and down your thighs, pressing gentle circles into the skin before he pushes his hand between them, his palm pressing into you. The brief friction against your clit drawing a short moan from you. His hand rubs against you, the pressure making you grind down to meet him, craving more.

You whine as he pulls his hand away, only for him to grab your hips and pull you on top of him. His back against the bed as he brings you to straddle him. You kick your shorts and panties away, as he pulls his pants down further. His erection springing up against you. You can barely focus long enough to glimpse the size of him, too overcome with greed and arousal. 

You sink yourself onto his cock as his hands guide your hips. You moan at the stretch of it. He lets you catch your breath as you take him down to the hilt. His hands never leave you as he kisses and nips along your neck and shoulders, your head pressed against his shoulder as he begins to rock into you, whispering praises and filth against your skin. 

You grind your hips against his, the head of his cock dragging along that magic spot inside of you that causes the pleasure to build and the knot in your stomach to tighten. He growls in your ear as you tighten and pulse around him. You can feel the pressure building, making your head spin. He slips his fingers into your mouth and you greedily accept them, sucking and licking and kissing along them. He removes them and a trail of your saliva beads down them. He brings them between you to rub circles on your clit. The sensation dizzying, as he draws you closer and closer to the edge. Your moans are frantic as you practically pant against him, begging him not to stop, that you’re so close, so so close. 

With one steady thrust he snaps the last thread and you come undone around him. The feeling of you cumming around him bringing him to his limit, if he wasn’t so enraptured by you he might have been embarrassed with how quickly you’ve made him cum. His warmth fills you as you come down from your high, hazy and drooling. You smile as he presses you against him. You don’t mind staying like this, you whine when he tries to move.

“Alright, princess. I’ll stay.” He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

[slytherinshua]

YOUR WOUNDS WRAPPED WITH MY LOVE

genre. fluff. tiny bit of angst. mafia au. warnings. descriptions of a stab wound. blood. knives and guns. some profanity. kissing. they kinda argue but very mildly. i researched a little on how to treat wounds but pls don't expect it to be too accurate 😭. pairing. fiancé!jeno x reader. wc. 1.5k. request. no. a/n. so ever since the concept trailers this jeno has been the only thing on my mind I swear 😔 and nursing trope is one of my fav tropes ever so I joined the two together and was very delulu 👍

read part 2 here !

“Again?” You asked, less than happy at the sight of the tall man who stood against the doorframe, one hand clutching his side painfully. Lee Jeno always disappeared without warning on another mission only to return, usually injured, for you to patch him up. You had urged him to hire an actual medic for the job, but he refused, saying he didn’t trust anyone but you to get that close to him. That was a few years back when the occasions for it were still rare. You were alarmed at how often he seemed to be going out, and returning with increasingly worse injuries.

Your knowledge and skill with patching up wounds— dagger wounds, bruises and scrapes from physical altercations, hell, even gunshot wounds— was a lot better than years ago. You were confident in your ability to get your fiancé back to health, but you weren’t pleased with how often you had to. No matter how much you pleaded with him to let his body rest, he would more often than not, be out again just hours after you had tended to his bleeding body.

“I’m sorry.” He grumbled out. You would have been shocked by how hoarse his voice had become if this was the first time, but you were all too used to it. Your heart still clenched painfully seeing him in that state.

He could barely walk, blood dripping a little from where his hand pressed tightly to his left side, his face scrunched in pain as laboured irregular breaths left his mouth. 

“Come here. Sit down. Tell me what happened.” You said quietly, already having gotten out the box of medical supplies. You were ready with the bottle of saline already, but it wasn’t anywhere near the top of Jeno’s worries. From the tone of your voice, he could tell you were mad at him. Or maybe it was mostly disappointment? A touch of worry, perhaps.

He made his way towards you, carefully limping towards the bed until he could gently lower himself onto it with his weight supported by the bedframe. He sat still as you gently took off his shirt, eyes assessing the dark red spot that stained the side of his stomach and up his ribcage. You glanced up to his face, and he met your eyes for half a second with a slow breath out.

“Knife. It’s not that deep, I stopped their hand before they could push it in very far.” He whispered, and then shut his eyes tightly when you dabbed a little at the wound with a soft wet cloth soaked in saline.

“Are you staying for long?” You asked, guarding your heart for what his answer would be. You loved Jeno— you loved him more than anything, and you tried to be as selfless as you could regarding him and his job. You never put up a fuss about having to patch him up, and you only ever gently tried to persuade him to be more careful. But it was hard, really hard. You couldn’t help but be hopeful that he might be able to stay for a bit longer with you. You hated how you only seemed to be seeing him to treat his wounds for the past month.

But it only reminded you of how he was by far the most selfless person you knew. 

Countless threats had always been looking for Jeno’s weakness. And you happened to be the most vital one. You were unspeakably precious to him, and unfortunately, his rivals knew that. Of course, he did everything he could to protect you. You trusted him with your life. There was no one else who you would ever trust as much as him. And he had never lost your trust. You had never even had a scratch delivered to you. But the tradeoff of the protection that Jeno made sure you had was his own life being put at risk almost every day.

Every cut, stab, or bruise that littered his fair skin were marks of how determined he was to keep you safe. The least you could do was treat his body in return with your gentle hands, wiping away the blood, wrapping the wounds carefully, and stitching them up when needed.

Jeno answered your question with only a silent nod yes. Although relief filled your body that he wouldn’t be out again immediately, you still focused on the more important task at hand. You could enjoy his company once he wasn’t bleeding.

“Are they still after you?” You rummaged around in the box for the antibiotic ointment, dabbing a bit on your finger before leaning closer to apply it. “This’ll sting.” You muttered as a warning before dabbing the wound as carefully as you could. Jeno tensed up, his fingers bunching up the sheet of the bed as he did his best to stay still.

“Talk to me. It’ll help distract you.” You told him, pausing your application of the antibiotics to rest a hand on his shoulder, providing a small bit of comfort.

“They’re… They’re after you, not me. You know that.” He whispered out as you continued to treat the wound. “They can’t take me by themselves— they’d be fucking stupid to try. I made sure that they won’t bother us for at least a month. I’ll have to talk to Renjun and Donghyuck about our next course of action.” You hummed in understanding, grabbing the roll of gauze next. 

“You need to rest your body, Jeno.” You said quietly. You could tell he was about to protest, so you interrupted quickly, “Doctor’s orders. Don’t pull anymore dumb shit.”

“It’s not dumb shit. It’s to protect you.” He argued back, clenching his jaw.

You sighed, starting to wrap the white cloth around his waist, “I know. But you said yourself that you have a month. At least for a week of that month, you need to rest and recover.” 

Your fiancé seemed unsettled at the thought of a whole week of rest; a week of letting his guard down. It was almost unheard of for him. He knew from experience that as soon as he let himself relax, something unexpected would happen. But maybe you were right. Maybe a week of rest is what he needed.

You secured the wrap tightly, and mumbled out how you were all done. Jeno just stared at you while you cleaned up, soaking up the face he hadn’t gotten a chance to study for the past month. He felt incredibly guilty for how often he had been gone, and even more so for how often he had let you see him like this. He knew you hated it, but you never complained. He didn’t deserve you.

“I love you.” He spoke suddenly, interrupting the cold silence of the room. You shut the metal drawer slowly, back still turned to him as you let a small smile grow on your face. You hadn’t heard those words from him in a while. You turned back to sit down next to him again, your eyes staring into his.

“Won’t you say it back?” He whispered, reaching for your hand; your left hand, the one that adorned that diamond ring he had given you months prior. You let him pull you closer as his right hand enclosed over your left. His fingers felt a bit rough, but they were warm and comfortable. With his left hand on the back of your neck, he gently guided you forward until his lips closed over yours.

You could just barely taste the metallicness of blood from the slight cut to his bottom lip. But you didn’t focus on it, too absorbed in the gentleness of his kiss and how perfectly his lips felt against yours even after years had passed. He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed as he caught his breath. 

You pecked his lips again, “I love you too. Always.”

He visibly relaxed at your words and dropped his head to your shoulder. You sighed, threading your fingers through the hair at the bottom of his neck, holding him closely. He shuddered quietly, and you frowned.

“Cold?” Your hand ran up and down his back slowly, feeling goosebumps rise from the chill. You traced one of the many scars that marked him, stopping at the dip of his scapula and muscle. You reached behind your back, feeling around along the mattress for a blanket. You caught hold of it and gently draped it around Jeno. 

You smiled fondly at the way he nestled his head a little closer to the crook of your neck. From his breath, you figured he was already almost asleep. You didn’t want to disturb his sleep, but you knew the position would quickly get uncomfortable, so you shifted his head down to your chest and laid back until you hit the mattress. He didn’t protest at all, but shifted into a comfortable spot in his half-asleep state. With his head on your chest, his arm around your waist, and his legs tangled with yours, you found the new position to be much more promising for getting good sleep.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead and made sure the blanket covered his body before you closed your eyes as well.

↳ nct dream taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,,

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Part 12 CW: blood, past trauma and experimentation

Jason could almost go to sleep. He wouldn’t, not when he was the only Bat in the apartment, but it would be so easy to. Danny made a really good weighted blanket.

It seemed once the kid got over touching someone, he basically became a koala. Cass and Danny had spent the morning wrapped around each other on the couch. Cass was playing one of her weird clicking games and Danny, blue bear in his lap, was scrolling through articles on the tablet that Tim had brought him the other day.

Now, though, Cass was out on a snack run and Danny had slowly slumped over until he was laying across Jason. It wasn’t minded. Jason could admit he still had some trouble with touch himself, but it was easy to be there for Danny like this.

The problem was, Jason needed to get back to Crime Alley for at least a few nights. He was already past when Red Hood should have made an appearance. It he didn’t go back soon, rumors were going to start that he was dead. Again.

Jason waited for Danny to start searching for a new article to read to ask, “Are you alright with meeting someone soon?”

He didn’t expect Danny to tense like he did.

“Robin?”

“No, Dandelion,” Jason said, stroking Danny’s white hair. “N talked with Robin and he knows not to stop by like that without warning. We’ll have him over when you’re comfortable but not before.”

“Okay. Sorry. I don’t mean to…”

“None of that. He freaked you out,” Jason said. “I know he didn’t mean to, and from our guess it’s not his fault how he feels like to you, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t. It’s okay to set boundaries.”

“He… doesn’t feel weird to you?”

Jason sighed. “No. I guess I don’t sense it. I didn’t know you had died until you told me.”

“Oh.” Danny’s voice was small and quiet.

“But I knew that I had died— the others know it’s too,” Jason was quick to add. “It’s alright that you died. No one will think differently of you.”

“They might. It’s… you’re different than me, I guess.”

“I don’t know, because I don’t know what happened to you, but I actually hope so. The way I came back wasn’t pleasant.” Jason had to take a breath before he continued. “I was murdered by a rogue in town called the Joker. I woke up… we’re still not sure when exactly, but somewhere about half a year later. I didn’t have any of my memories, but I still had most of my injuries.

“I was picked up by some people you might hear us refer to— the League of Assassins. They put me back together about a year after my death by tossing me in something called the Lazarus Pits. Those things come with a price though, one that I’m still paying. Coming back was… hard, in a lot of ways.”

“Oh,” Danny said. He clung a little to Jason’s shirt, like he wanted to make sure Jason was still there. It was a feeling Jason understood all too well. “I, um, don’t think I’ve ever stayed really dead for more than a minute or two. At least not like… not like you were.”

Jason rested his hand on Danny’s back, feeling him breath. Feeling him… feeling him not breathe.

“…Danny?”

Danny clung tighter to Jason’s shirt. “Go ahead, ask.”

“Are you… somewhat dead right now?”

“Yes.”

Just one word. A simple answer.

“Okay. That’s— okay. I’m glad there’s a reason that you’re not breathing,” Jason said and pressed a kiss to the top of Danny’s head as he tried to calm his own pounding heart.

“I think B.B. knows. I usually… it’s habit to breath but sometimes I forget and—”

“She’s good at noticing things.” Jason would have to talk with her. “But that goes to what I said, right? None of the others will thinking of you differently.”

“Even if…”

“Even if anything.”

Danny sat up and Jason resisted the urge to reach for him. It took him a moment longer to release Jason’s shirt. Jason sat up slowly and waited for Danny to get the words out he was obviously working on.

“Can I show you?”

“Course.” Jason braced himself for anything.

“It might be bright, close your eyes.”

The flash still shown through Jason’s eyelids.

“Oh.” Danny’s voice wavered horribly. “I didn’t think of that.”

“Danny?” Jason was reaching forward even as he opened his eyes.

It was good he did.

He had to catch Danny as he wavered dangerously. Danny’s who hair was black. Who’s eyes were blue. Who looked all the more like Bruce’s son. Who was bleeding red.

-

“Jesus and Mother Mary,” Dick cursed, resting his forehead against his wrist’s.

Cass came over and peeled the bloody gloves off for him. “Breathe.”

“I am breathing,” Dick wheezed.

“Badly.”

Jason barked out a laugh at that. It was unstable in a way that reminded the room of worse days.

The door banged open and they all jolted, everyone but Cass, who was better than that, and Danny who was still out cold.

“Shit, fuck, sorry,” Tim rambled. “Is he stable?”

“Yes,” Cass answered. Her voice was calm, but but Duke could see the way that she fidgeted. For anyone else it wouldn’t be called fidgeting, but the way that she untied and retied and untied the trash bag in his visions told Dick otherwise.

Cass was as worried as the rest of them.

“Signal?” Tim asked. He came into the room, tablet already pulled up to record everything.

“Hard for me to say,” Duke said with a little shrug. He wished he could say, but he was still trying to understand what he was seeing. “The guy is… he’s like no one I’ve ever seen before. But I think he’s getting stronger.”

“That’s— holy fuck.” Tim paused as he finally got a look at Danny.

“Really looks like the old man like this, doesn’t he?” Jason asked. He was trying to hide how his hands were trembling by keeping his arms crossed. Everyone in the room let him pretend.

Duke sure wouldn’t have wanted to be the one Danny collapsed on like that. It was bad enough being the third one there as he swung over from his patrol. The cuts had still been appearing on Danny’s skin, ripping him apart like he was nothing.

He didn’t look much better all bandaged up.

“I think the cuts were ones he must have sustained before changing forms before he even met us,” Duke reasoned. “They… felt old.”

Dick rubbed at his face. “So the whole time they were there just waiting to bleed?”

Jason laughed again. “Waiting for him to be alive again.”

Slowly, Dick dropped his hands and looked up at Jason. “Jay?”

Okay, so they were at the point of forgetting cape-names now. That was a great sign.

Confusingly, Jason looked to Cass, who actually fidgeted.

“He doesn’t breathe. He does, not always. His heart beats, not always. It is like he…,” she twisted her hand as if trying to grab onto the right word. “Like he relaxes and forgets.”

Well that was weird. Dick nodded to the monitor that he had helped hook up. “He’s breathing right now and the monitor says his heartbeat is hella slow, but steady.”

“This is his alive form, I think. More alive form,” Jason said with a shrug. “His other form is his more dead form. He said he’s never stayed ‘really dead’ like I was. I think ‘really’ was the important word in that. He stressed it like it was… a technically or some shit.”

“Or a loophole,” Tim said. He was watching Danny with his head tilted just slightly to the right.

It was a pose that had Duke straightening up in attention. “What do you see that I can’t?”

Tim glanced at him and then back down at Danny. “The scars don’t match.”

“Ti—Red, please just say it,” Dick pleaded, exhaustion hanging on his words.

“Sorry, I was. I mean, the scars he has now don’t exactly match the scars he had in his— what are we calling it? Dead form?”

Jason flinched.

Dick’s eyes flicked from Jason to Tim. “Let’s go with… ghost. Undead, you know?”

Tim continued on valiantly. “His scars don’t match with what he had in his ghost form. There are a few like around his neck that I think are one-to-one and a lot of them are in the same place from what I can see and might be the same? I’d have to take photos and compare. But… he has more in this living form, I’m sure of it.”

“Okay, right, so that’s a thing,” Jason said. He slid down the wall he was leaning against until he was squatting. He hung his head between his knee and wrapped his hands around the back of his neck.

Duke could see Jason passing out with enough probability that he slipped out of the room to grab some sour candy for Jason and an icepack for the back of his neck. Being honest with himself, Duke could use the moment out of the room. It was a lot to deal with.

Man, someone would have to do something about the bloody couch too… Dick sighed and took the time to send a message to Babs about it as well as an update. Knowing her she had a list of all the furniture in all the safe houses and could get a slipcover ordered on same day delivery. At least he hoped so. Everyone was taking this pretty hard and they didn’t need the reminder.

Duke figured the bad reaction was pretty fair though, they had thought that Danny was getting better and now his healing was going to be set back. Dick would be guilty because he hadn’t been here, Jason going through his issues about kids and violence and death, and Cass already counted Danny as family. She was never good when family was hurt. It was even worse that Danny should have been safe, he was under their watch.

Duke set the pack of candy and ice pack down next to Jason’s foot, close enough that he should be able to feel the cold, and backed up to his corner. It was best not to touch right then. He wasn’t afraid of Jason ever hurting him purposefully, but he was also very aware for Jason it might not always be purposeful.

Cass joined him, leaning against his side, and Duke wrapped an arm around her. Tim was tapping away on his tablet, mostly muttering to himself, but Dick had gotten up to peer over his shoulder.

Jason tore open the packet of candies and popped one in his mouth.

They’d be okay.

It would take work, but they were Bats. They were stubborn.

Dukes wrist buzzed. The tracking number for slipcover flashed across his hud. It would be there by 9 pm.

They’d be okay.

-

Everything hurt. Everything ached all the way down through his skin and muscled and bones. His breath caught in his chest, ragged and frayed like his lungs were full of shattered glass.

He tried not to make a noise.

He tried to stay quiet.

They would notice him if he made a noise. He couldn’t take any more attention. He didn’t think he’d survive more attention. God, that thought was almost enough to kill him. Once he would have done anything for his parents attention and now—

There was a hand in his hair. It was gentle.

Oh, he was crying.

“…going to be okay. We have you, Dandelion, and we’re not letting them touch you ever again. The two Reds will make sure it can never happen again. Once you’re better they’ll take a little road trip.”

That was… that wasn’t… a sob broke through Danny’s lips and he didn’t stop it. He didn’t even try.

He wasn’t there.

He could make noises.

He was safe.

“Danny? Hey, are you awake.”

Danny nodded as much as he could manage.

“Hey there,” Nightwing said, voice so kind that it just made Danny cry harder. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

Danny shook his head.

“Okay, that’s okay, thank you for answering me Danny. How’s the pain? Um, squeeze my hand once if it’s okay, twice if it’s really bad.”

Danny squeezed it three times.

“Really, really bad, huh? Okay. Okay… we can give you some pain meds through your IV. We have you on a saline drip because you looked really bad. We didn’t want to give you any meds without your consent though. Are you alright with some pain medication? Once for yes, twice for no.”

One squeeze.

“Okay, let me go—”

Danny clung to Nightwing’s hand a tightly at he could. His breath stuttered around the glass.

“Not leaving, Dandelion. I’m going to text Red Robin, okay? He’s in the living room. Hood and B.B are out… running an errand. They’ll be back soon. I’ll text Red and he’ll bring the pain meds.”

Danny nodded. Nightwing shifted around, but didn’t let go of Danny’s hand. The breathing calmed, got easier. Danny let out a slow breath.

“Hey Danny,” a new voice said. “The medication will make you feel fuzzy and maybe disoriented. You’ll probably sleep a lot. We don’t want you to wake up panicked. Is there anything we can do to help you know you’re here with us and safe?”

“Bear,” Danny croaked. He wet his lips and tried to continue. “Smells that aren’t… Touch. Warmth.”

“Red will get your teddy bear as soon as the meds are hooked up and we’ll work on the other things. One of us will always be here with you,” Nightwing said.

Danny squeezed his hand again.

“Okay. We won’t leave you alone, Danny, we’ll keep you safe. You’ll be okay.”

Danny trusted that.

It was surprising.

He didn’t think he could trust anymore, but Danny trusted that, trusted them.

The warmth of that thought followed him back into the black.

---

AN: This all Danny's fault, not mine! He decided to reveal his form early and then... welp.....

...Stay delightful, darlings?

[nanaslutt]

thinkin about the one bed troupe with coworker!nanami

contains: fem reader, manhandling, degradation, choking, size kink, mean nanamin, the knee thing :p, dom/sub undertones implied, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, gentleman nanamin at the begining<3

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

finishing up with a mission that took a little longer than expected and having to book a room last minute at some run down motel with nanami, the only room available only housing one bed :(

after a long back and forth conversation with lots of protests from nanami insisting he would sleep on the floor, you both end up taking the bed,

both of you laying on your sides facing the wall, your back to nanami, his chest towards your back

he tried his best to maintain a respectful distance away from you, proving futile as his large body alone took up more than half the twin bed

“goodnight’s” have been said, getting all settled in under the covers after nanami flicks off the light on the bedside table

feeling the heat from his body radiate against your back, realizing just how close you were in proximity, silence filling the room, save for his deep breaths that reached your ears, making goosebumps run down your arms

rubbing your thighs together as subtly as possible, gaining the courage to push your ass back into his crotch, sayin, “sorry nanamin, ‘s just so cold..” and he believes you because you’re his sweet little coworker, why would you lie to him?

he feels absolutely awful when his dick twitches at your cute little voice, cock now tenting in his pants

squeezing his eyes shut he tried to think about anything other than your hips wiggling back into him every couple seconds

he knows he shouldn’t feel like this, you’re just trying to get comfortable! the mattress is stiff and it really is cold in here! he’s praying you don’t feel how hard he is, cock now standing under his clothes at full attention

little does he know his filthy coworker knows exactly what she’s doing

biting your lip, growing wetter as you get exactly the right reactions you wanted out of him, trying not to moan as you feel how fucking big he is between your cheeks

he places a big hand on your hip and grips hard, when your subtle grinding gets a little too obvious, “are you doing this to me on purpose?” his deep voice whispers into your ear, sending shivers down your spine, suppressing a whine

“thought you were cold but you’re just a little slut, huh?” he harshly rolls you onto your back, pinning your smaller frame underneath his much larger one, sliding a knee between your legs he pushes right up against where you needed him most,

“had me feeling so guilty for getting this fucking hard,” he emphasizes by reaching a big palm between you and rubbing himself over his slacks, “i was trying to be respectful.” he continues, releasing the strong grip on his cock and roughly grabbing your neck,

you gasp, using both your hands to grab his thick wrist, feeling lightheaded from the strength he was showing off

“but you don’t wanna be treated with respect, isn’t that right?” he seethed, leaning his face down inches from yours, emphasizing his point by squeezing your neck, your jaw dropping open, whimpering at his rough treatment,

“you think i’m an idiot? huh?,” he pushes his knee into your core and you snap your legs shut around his rippling thigh, “think i’m some dumb whore like you? huh?”

and what happens next has you sealing your own fate,

you fucking smirk, and he swears he’s never felt the need to put someone in their place as bad as he needs to put you in yours now, “oh you think this is funny?” he growls releasing your neck opting to grip your jaw and make you look directly at him, veins bulging on his hands, “let’s see if youre still laughing after i fuck the brat out of you.”

[sordidmusings]

Tender Love and Care - Hair Care (Buggy x Reader)

Art by Capitanpoops (link keeps expiring QnQ)

A/N: Ah yes, another 'taking care of Buggy's head' fic to take up space on the internet. Just gotta indulge in giving this man some tlc. Did I write four thousand words of simping for the cringefail pirate clown's hair? Yes. And I'd do it again >:p

Word Count: ~4 k

Warnings: feminine leaning afab!reader (no pronouns or gendered titles), Lots of Feelings, yearning, possibly angst?, probably hurt/comfort?, waxing very poetic, Buggy being a prickly bitch who doesn't know how to receive affection, Buggy also being a delusional bitch who immediately latches on to that affection

amab!Version

Next ->

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

“Touch the makeup and I’ll bite your fingers off!”

“I’m quaking.”

“...I’ll spit in your face.” His eyes narrowed while you blanched. “I’ve got damn good aim too so you better watch those big ol’ eyes.” Almost a compliment? Progress.

“To save us both from catastrophe, I’ll let you keep your grease-face,” you promised. After a few more seconds of giving you the stink eye (really, you should be taking notes because his form is exemplary), Buggy finally settled back into your hold. His stubble scratched lightly at your palms and you allowed your thumbs a scant few passes from his cheek bones to the back of his jaw. That was easy enough to play off as mindless movements while you examined him for the coming wash. Hopefully.  You were at least putting in the effort to keep the affection in your chest from blooming into a wide smile on your face, lest he begin spitting like a wet cat again.

After placing him down on your clothes chest, you began gathering together the things you’d need to clean him up. You had already prepared a large basin of steaming water before you had grabbed Buggy from Zoro for your night shift with him. If he had truly protested against you then you’d just have extra water to pamper yourself with for your nightly routine. What a loss. While you flitted around grabbing a cup, a pile of towels, and care products, Buggy took to commenting about whatever his eyes fell on around your room. Your half-assed replies did nothing to discourage his gentle roast of your safe space. He only shut up when you picked him back up and brought him over to the basin.

You were taken by surprise when you took off his bandana.  You had guessed that his hair was thick from the pieces that framed his face, but you hadn’t expected long locks to be wrapped up in there. They slipped and fell down like silk despite being in clear need of a wash, and you started to become a bit excited to see how they would come to shine under your care.

“What’s wrong with you? Never seen hair before?” There was a bit more bite to him all of a sudden and it hit you that he may be self-conscious from your staring.

“Never seen yours before, duh,” you teased. “You should wear your hair out as a power move against all the scrangly ass men in these waters.”

Buggy took a blank-faced moment to process your words. Probably weighing your sincerity against the backlog of insults he’s heard in his life. Unfortunately, one joking compliment never stood a chance.

“Whatever, just do your job.” His bitter tone made you keep your mouth shut and drop the topic. For now.

Seeing how he had a lot more hair than anticipated, you got up again to grab yet another towel so that you could use it as a cushion. Finally settled, you grabbed Buggy in one hand, the cup in the other, and got to work. You had laid a small board across the basin so you could rest Buggy on it instead of having to hold him up the whole time. You may have gotten strong in this life, but you were not masochistic enough to try holding him up throughout this process. You made sure to be extra gentle when you put him to rest on the back of his head, mindful that the hard plank wasn’t the most comfortable.

Wetting his hairline was taking longer than you thought. The soft noises from the pouring water hitting his scalp and trickling through his hair into the basin below felt loud in the stillness of the room. Everything had a languid air like you could breathe freely without thought or time to measure the passing of each exhale. Wanting to check in, you looked down from your task and into Buggy’s face. Despite all his past showboating, Buggy was having difficulty keeping his gaze anywhere near your face.  You decided to take pity on him in his discomfort but not too much. “So how’d you get your damn good aim?”

Silence.

You’re beginning to think that him looking at you like you’re stupid is his comfort zone.

“You know, that ‘damn good aim’ that makes my ‘big ol’ eyes’ easy targets?” you supplied.  At first, you thought he would roll his eyes and make more digs at you, but he finally caught you off guard.

“It’s a trade secret,” he said with a growing smile and a glint in his eyes. His face grew even more pleased when you smiled mischievously back at him.

“Clown trade?”

He hummed out an affirmative. You saturated the last of his hair at the front and sides and now needed to dunk the rest in the basin. The sheer amount of long blue locks that this pretty, pretty man had may cause it to overflow, but you supposed that’s just a workplace hazard when becoming a glamor clown’s hairdresser. You paused in lowering him to look around quite dramatically (squinty eyes, pursed lips, and all) before leaning slightly closer to stage whisper, “You can tell me; I ain’t no snitch.”

You barely caught the laugh that he choked short in order to keep up his serious facade. He let his eyes wander the room to double check your surveying and pretended to be in thought. He let out a heaving sigh and said, “Okay, okay, but you have to lean in close. Can’t have this getting out.”

Ever obliging, you turned your head and leaned until you felt his warm breath on your skin and the roundness of his nose tickling to top of your ear. You were thankful he couldn’t see the little shiver down your spine or the goosebumps spreading down your neck. He was thankful you couldn’t see him close his eyes to savor the scent of your perfume. All was still for a few breaths too long.

“The secret?” you prompted, thinking he was waiting for your urging or that he was just trying to make you squirm. You didn’t see his eyes flutter open while he forced thoughts other than your closeness back into that head of his. Okay, he really needed to do something to reel himself back in and get some control of the situation.  Easier said than done when he’s only a head.

You felt as much as you heard him take a deliberate inhale… only for a loud raspberry to be blown right next to your ear.

Nearly dropping him in shock, you quickly pulled your head back and held him at arm’s length like a misbehaved puppy. Through his canting cackles, Buggy met your wide eyes with a proud grin. It didn’t even need the help of his makeup to split his face. Damn, you could stare at that forever. He had just the prettiest eyes you think you’d ever seen. The way they shifted color under the low lights and sparkled with his smile had you feeling entranced. It had the same commanding presence and addicting warmth as flames with their own swirling colors and sparking embers. You thought your poetic idioms for him would always center around the sea, especially for his blue-green eyes, but here we are.

The corner of his smile started to twitch downward under your stare until wild and cheerful giggles burst from your lips. They were the kind to shake your shoulders and scrunch your cheeks up into your eyes and he’s now certain that he has fucked right up. Buggy felt alarms blaring in his mind as he took in your joy and was certain he would make an absolute fool of himself in any and all ways possible to keep getting hits of it. Between your settling laughter, you managed to say, “Don’t worry, I’ll bring that wisdom with me to my grave.”

Readjusting your grip, you moved forward and dunked the back of Buggy’s head fully into the water. He sighed out at the sensation, but he fully melted when one of your hands went to support the back of his skull and the other flowed through his tresses to make sure all of them were wet. You let yourself take your time, both to make sure you were thorough and to indulge yourself in the comfort of the moment. A tenderness spread through you when you saw that this was also indulging Buggy. His breath was slow and steady, and his eyes were resting closed to better focus on the sensations coming to him. You truly were a people pleaser at heart and seeing someone so bedraggled and affection-starved accept your care made your heart and head feel fuzzy.

You slowly leaned him more upright and used your other hand to wipe out some of the excess water. Buggy felt you shuffling around, and his eyes opened to see what you were up to. After you moved him to rest on the flat bottom of his neck on top of the softest towel that he’s felt in ages, he realized that you went through the trouble to try to make even that wooden board comfortable for his sake. He was starting to feel even more uncertain and out of his element.

Careful fingers carded through and spread out his hair behind him while an equally careful gaze watched over their work. After lathering your hands with a shampoo bar scented by vanilla and spices, you set to work giving him the scalp massage of a lifetime.

While focusing on doing the best job possible and maybe also the beautiful color of his hair was keeping you from thinking about anything else, Buggy had no such luxury. He had nothing to direct his nervous energy at - didn’t even have fingers to fidget with! - so he closed his eyes and tried to keep his face neutral. Everyone enjoys a good scalp massage or at least some kind of pampering so it wouldn’t have been weird for him to visibly enjoy it, but something watery and vulnerable was pressing at his throat under your tender care. His mind and body (well… head) were at odds. While his train of thought spun every which way only to be tethered back to the word ‘why’, his muscles melted until they were soft and pleasantly limp. Has his brow ever been so smooth? His jaw so loose? His lips so softly set? Oh God, you must have noticed the stubborn stiffness in his neck because your fingers abandoned his hair to firmly rub from the base of his skull to where he met the towel and that was truly his undoing.

With a rumbly hum, Buggy finally gave in to temptation and tied his mind to your movements. He let himself imagine affection there - imagine that this was special and just for him. You’ve never tended to anyone else like this. You offered because you simply had to know what his hair felt like. You just wanted to touch him. You wanted it much more than you ever wanted to touch anyone else. If he opened his eyes and looked up at yours, he would see them pouring with love, just like your hands were, and you would look sweetly down at him with your pretty eyes and pretty smile and say lovely things and you’d love him-

You’d love him.

Fuck.

You noticed Buggy suddenly flinch under your hands and you tensed up.

“Are you okay? Did I snag your hair?” You hadn’t felt anything tug but you supposed you could’ve missed it.

Buggy cleared his throat before stiffly responding, “No. Keep going.”

Something thick in his tone caught your attention and you looked to see his expression was tense instead of the blissed out one you had admired not too long ago. That won’t do. You went back to the tried and true pressure points on the scalp that you knew from experience eased anyone up. Checking his face again, you noticed it was more relaxed but still too guarded for your tastes. Deciding he must be getting antsy, you switched to working the shampoo down his hair after getting a touch more product on your hands. The time it took to get it properly sudsed and rinsed was calm, despite the fact that there was some undercurrent to the air that felt charged. Maybe it was just from seeing the talkative and bratty clown be so subdued. As you began spreading conditioner through his hair, you decided that it was time to engage him again.

“This bar is my favorite; nothing makes my hair softer,” you said. Already, his hair was relaxing to glide even more smoothly between your fingers. You weren’t ready to give the feeling up, so you spent the entire time that the conditioner was setting to run your fingers through his hair.

Buggy couldn’t do anything at the moment to judge your claim, but the smell alone made him understand why it was your favorite. It matched that of the shampoo bar, but the richer ingredients in the conditioner highlighted the comforting tones of the vanilla and the sensuality of warm spices and wood. He relished in it on every inhale, hoping to unravel and memorize its every undertone. Was that a touch of orchid in there? A little pink peppercorn? Maybe some incense and amber at the base? Buggy suddenly felt ridiculous. He was never one to give much thought to fancy perfumes, yet here he was trying to dissect your scent like a sommelier tasting a new wine. 

You made quick work of rinsing his hair this final time and gently pushing and squeezing any excess water out. You set Buggy back on a towel, this time one that was spread on the floor. It was the one that you had just been sitting on. Buggy was embarrassed that he noticed and enjoyed the fact that he could still feel your body heat on it.

“How many of those things do you have?” Buggy scoffed as you pulled yet another towel over to dry his hair. You bopped his forehead with a finger in warning against further sass.

“You can never have too many. It’s something that you use daily and they come in handy during emergencies,” you explained.

“Oh yeah like what?”

“Well, I was thinking of situations like having to soak up a spill or blood, but the state of your hair definitely qualifies.”

The outburst was immediate.

“I KNEW YOU WERE MAKING FUN OF ME YOU DAMN LIAR! HOW DA-”

Good thing you were prepared for this and stuffed some of yet another towel into his screaming mouth. He bit down on it harshly and glared at you with all his might. Snarls and grumbles still made their way through the cloth, letting you know just how displeased he was. You were a little shocked to find that despite being gagged and despite just being a head that his glare still actually intimidated you. The time spent with the crew treating him like a harmless little pest had helped you forget that, when push came to shove, he could back up his talk with violence.

The brief glimpse of fear in your eyes gave him a twinge of satisfaction but mostly felt a lot more hollow than he’d expected. Wasn’t this what he wanted? 

When you reached back out to continue drying his hair, you were more tentative than he had ever seen you and his mood dropped even further. Even with your caution, the way that you moved the towel over his hair and gently squeezed more water out of it was filled with care. The whole thing felt very foreign to him. Buggy usually rubbed his towel through his hair chaotically like the more forceful he was the sooner he could get done with the bothersome task. You were working over him like any undue force would be an insult. Like he was something precious. That watery feeling started pressing on him again.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you started quietly. “I just meant to poke fun, not make you actually feel insulted.” After a few more soft pats with the towel, you slowly removed his makeshift gag. He took a moment to wiggle around his jaw and get the dry feeling out of his mouth.

“Yeah, well good job, dumbass,” he bit. You winced at the hurt in his tone. “Just finish up.”

You took a moment to recenter yourself while you grabbed your comb and brush. This was not how you wanted this to go. One wrong comment had sent this whole interaction spiraling and it made you sad. Sensitivity like that was usually built up from years of feeling the same hurts over and over again, and you didn’t ever want to be someone to aggravate an already festering wound, especially not on someone who you genuinely enjoyed. Not on someone who you were increasingly craving affection from. This needed to be fixed. Steeling yourself for the resistance you were about to meet, you began combing the ends of his hair and spoke, “The blue color is so pretty.”

He ignored you. As expected.

“It was one of the first things I noticed about you.” He still wouldn’t even glance up at you. “Also how it brings out the color of your eyes.”

He snorted dismissively in a way that very clearly told you he wasn’t believing a word you said. Also expected. You’re just going to have to soldier on until this eventually worked… maybe worked… hopefully worked?

Just as in the rest of the process, you were slow and thorough when combing his hair. You murmured compliments to him about how soft it is; how thick and how beautiful. By the time that you had switched to using your brush, he was showing signs of being worn down by your flattery. His face was more relaxed and he let himself look around instead of trying to burn a hole through the floor. All you could focus on, though, was how downcast and tired his eyes looked.

“Alright, I’m all finished up,” you told him. “I’m going to put you in the hammock for a minute while I get ready for bed.”

After placing him in the middle of your bedding, you disappeared behind a dressing screen. The routine of bathing  yourself with a washcloth and bowl of soapy water eased you. Since you had taken so much time tending to Buggy, the last bowl of fresh water had become lukewarm. Despite this, the final wipe down had you feeling refreshed and ready to jump into bed. It was no soak in the tub, but still left you feeling much better after a long day of helping work around the ship.

You had set about your routine briskly so that you didn’t leave Buggy waiting too long. Little did you know, he didn’t mind the time of having nothing to do besides enjoy the soft blankets you curled up in every night. He was trying to soak it in before you inevitably put him back down on the floor. If the night had taught him anything, you’d at least put him on one of those fluffy towels instead of throwing him back in the bag like the others did.

You came over to him on the hammock and he admired how you looked, now clean and fresh in a modest slip. When you picked him back up, your face and body language were as placid as he had ever seen them and he was surprised at how content that made him feel. He readied himself to be moved away, left cold and forgotten, but he was astonished when you plopped yourself in your bedding instead with him still in your hands. The shock must have shown on his face because you giggled at him and gave him a bright smile. Even with the bumpy road that the night had been, your smile made him soft and content. He was realizing with more and more resignation that your smile and laugh would let you get away with anything when it came to him.

“So no floor? Trying to bribe me with favors?” His voice was mostly back to that sarcastic lilt you’ve come to adore.

Content that he was feeling better, you answered, “Nah, just using you so I can have a teddy bear. Haven’t had a good one in ages.”

Making good on that promise, you made sure that he was securely nestled into your neck and shoulder. You used both of your arms to cradle him there and both hands to continue your worship of his hair. It was just barely damp and the coolness felt nice on your hands, especially in contrast to the cozy heat emanating from his head. His long eyelashes tickled at your neck every time he blinked, just like the light scruff on his jaw teased at your chest. His big nose felt cozy rested on your clavicle, and you had to resist the urge to reach down and trail your fingers on it. A giddy and victorious feeling flushed through you when you felt him close his eyes a final time and sink into your embrace.

Buggy should have known that he was doomed from the start. He was having a hell of a time trying not to moan at your fingers scratching and massaging his scalp, both during the hair care and now, when he was held in your arms. He couldn’t stop his little movements to nestle into you and get just that much more of your warmth and touch. If he thought that he loved the smell of you before, he was absolutely intoxicated now that he knew what it was like when it floated over the two of you while wrapped in body-warmed sheets.

He wanted to ask you why you were doing all of this, but he didn’t want to know the answer. Not right now. Right now he was going to let himself go back into that place in his head where you lo- cared about him. A place where each night he would crawl into bed with you and, no matter how the day went, you would be there to empty his mind of anything but the two of you. You’d greet him with a kiss or a laugh or an embrace and you would shine with so much joy because he’s next to you again. He’d know what your love felt like, how your body felt under his hands, how your skin felt under his lips. All these daydreams swirling in his head started to make him sick with want, and he needed to know at least one of them. He couldn’t handle all of them staying forever in his mind.

The tiniest increase of pressure from his lips brought your attention to where they rested below your collarbone. The almost kiss was so heartbreakingly shaky and hesitant that you felt your eyes burn with the threat of tears. To reassure him, you dragged your cheek across his temple before turning to leave a deliberate kiss there. Buggy relished the contact, the satisfied sigh you let out afterward, and the gentle weight of your cheek as you snuggled back into him. Your reward came in the form of a grinning cheek pushing into you.

All his humor and posturing certainly caught your attention in the best way and even his explosive temper was something you couldn’t say turned you away. This gentleness, though, this uncertain and wounded place, had you bursting with affection and you were hoping to keep experiencing it. You’d meet it each time with steady affection until it turned into something he embodied with the same surety that he had in his beloved spotlight.

Both of you slipped more sweetly into dreams, curled up together as you were, and with more peace and ease than the years before had allowed. Neither of you would let the years to come be absent of this sweet treasure, either.

Next->

[thef1diary]

Picture Perfect | D. Ricciardo

Summary: Daniel loves taking photos of you on his new camera, however, some of them aren't meant for his Instagram.

Warnings: 18+ mentions of smut

Word Count: 1.2k

Pairing: daniel x fem!reader

When Daniel showed you the new camera he bought, and told you his idea to start a photography page, you didn't expect him to take the camera everywhere. You weren't complaining though. You loved watching him focus completely on taking a perfect picture.

If you two didn't spend the day together, when he would return home, he would show you all the pictures he took. And damn, there were a lot of photos. His reasoning was "you never know which one turns out to be the best".

There was a selection of photos that Daniel took but decided to keep for himself. Even though he would sneak in a photo of you every time he's posted so far, there was a growing collection of photos of you that he wanted to keep private.

It started when he took you out on a date and decided to bring his camera with him. Although he didn't bring it out during dinner, he started taking photos of you when you were walking in front of him. He called out your name and snapped a photo right as you looked back at him. Then you started to pose for him, making weird faces because he would laugh at them, and you loved hearing him laugh.

You started to make bolder decisions. One time, when you two were at home and he was working on his laptop, you decided to change into more risqué clothing. Putting on a robe above your outfit, you joined him.

He was sitting on the desk facing away from you. Walking up to him, you placed your hands on his shoulders. "You've been working for hours" you complained. He didn't look back at you but held your hand for a short moment to place a kiss on your knuckles. "I know baby, just a little while longer" he replied, not knowing what you were planning.

You placed a kiss on his cheek which made him think you were leaving. Instead of leaving, you lightly kissed his neck, moving lower to the space of bare skin that was showing. "I think you deserve a break" you muttered and you saw the goosebumps rise on his neck. He didn't break until you made marks on his neck which made him immediately turn around to face you. Daniel saw your outfit, or at least the robe that was covering your outfit and his eyes widened. "I think I do"

He held his arms open for you and you sat in his lap. Daniel's hands immediately went to caress your thigh as you pressed your lips to his. He didn't waste time picking you up and heading to your shared bedroom. He dropped you on the bed and saw how your robe was not as tight as you wrapped it, which slightly revealed the lingerie you wore underneath. He closed his eyes and groaned "I think this break is going to last longer than I thought" he commented.

"Let's be honest, there was no way you'd go back to work after this so-called break" you retorted which made him shake his head with a smile on his face.

His eyes spotted the camera that was sitting on the shelf in the corner of the room and he looked back at you. Before you saw where his eyes were focused, he walked to grab the camera and returned. Daniel raised his eyes in question, asking if you'd be comfortable to do what he was suggesting. You knew that if you denied, he would listen to you but you didn't deny him.

Sitting up on your knees, you posed for the camera. After you heard the camera shutter click a few times, you untied your robe leaned forward. This caused Daniel to stop for a moment and he just stared at you. "Baby, you're staring" you pointed out the obvious. "No, I'm admiring. You look amazing" he spoke when he regained his senses.

He walked closer to you, placing one hand on your cheek as he snapped photos with his other hand. His thumb caressed and pulled your bottom lip lower. You opened your mouth and took his thumb into your mouth, lightly sucking on it.

Daniel placed the camera on the bed for a moment before taking off your robe. Trailing both his hands up and down your body, he hooked his finger into your bra strap and pulled it down your shoulder. Instead of going back to the camera just yet, he strongly kissed you. Your hand trailed down his back, marking it with your nails while his hand travelled up in your hair, slightly tugging on it.

You were out of breath by the time he pulled away but you gasped as soon as he sucked on the side of your neck, creating marks. The thought of him marking you before taking more pictures made you impatient.

Once he stepped away, you unclasped your bra and covered your breasts with one of your arms while the other hand was up in your hair. Daniel kept clicking away, capturing the lust shown in your eyes.

You moved your arm away and he was blown away by the bold moves you were making. He knew how much you trusted him, and he would do anything to keep these photos away from everyone else. These were just for him.

A few more minutes passed and you removed your panties and were on your hands and knees. As much as you loved this photo session, you were quite frustrated because Daniel wasn't done yet. You wanted, no, needed him so badly.

"If you don't come take care of me now, I'll do it myself" you warned him and began to make yourself comfortable to do just what you told him. Instead of moving quickly like you'd expect him to, he raised an eyebrow at you. "Is that so? Do you really think you could please yourself like I do?" He put the camera to the side and walked towards you. You had your legs resting in front of you and he immediately spread them apart.

Daniel trailed his fingers from your ankle to your thigh, not going to the one place you want him to. "What do you want?" He asked as if it wasn't obvious enough.

"You"

Apparently he liked the way you responded because his fingers were quick to spread your folds and collect the wetness. He didn't know you were that desperate and ready for him, and he almost felt bad for teasing you. Almost.

The camera was long forgotten until the end where you were half asleep due to how well he fucked the energy out of you. He snapped a photo of you in a blissed state because he wanted to remember this moment when he looked back at these pictures.

He transferred the photos to his phone and made a private album for the days that you wouldn't be together. Needless to say, he used those photos to get himself off during race week. Especially on the days where he didn't want to disturb your sleep due to the weird time zone differences. But he would tell you all about it the next day. You had already planned to do this again when he comes home.

[little-diable]

My Greatest Fear - Dean Winchester (smut)

Don't say I didn't warn y'all. Inspired by Benson Boone's new song "My Greatest Fear". Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean broke things off with the reader years ago, the biggest mistake of his life. But when Sam tells his brother that (y/n) is getting married, Dean knows it's time to make things right. He won't leave this life behind without being able to call her his once again.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, ex-lovers to lovers, some angst, lots of fluff tho, reader is a runaway bride

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (3k words)

Got a lot on my mind that keeps me up at night, I’m tossing and turning, thinking that my life’s gone to waste

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Dean shot the waitress a big smile as she placed his breakfast down, blushing as the handsome man winked at her. The older Winchester brother was too focused on his food to pick up on the uneasiness radiating off Sam, to focus on the sadness swimming in his brother’s pupils. 

“Fuck, that’s good.” Dean’s moans rumbled through him as he ate the greasy deliciousness, sipping on his coffee every now and then. It took him a while to lift his gaze, to allow his green eyes to focus on Sam’s untouched breakfast, forcing Dean’s eyebrows to furrow in confusion. “Not hungry? Shouldn’t you eat something after a long run?” 

“Mhm,” Sam’s eyes were focused on the window, unable to look at his brother any longer. His heart clenched in his chest, his mind was racing faster than it had in the past months, struggling to part his lips. 

“Sam,” Dean’s raspy voice forced Sam’s eyes back towards his older brother, unable to hold eye contact for long. “What’s wrong?” 

Dean had put down his breakfast burger while taking another sip of coffee. He patiently waited for Sam to speak, to spill whatever was visibly plaguing him. But Sam kept quiet, deeply inhaling as if he had to muster the strength to speak. Dean repeated his brother’s name, much quieter this time around, gentle almost – as if he had finally realised that whatever Sam was about to speak would hurt them both. 

“I received an email this morning.” It was a whisper, nothing more, words so obscurely simple that Dean couldn’t help but laugh. But Sam didn’t give in, killing Dean’s hope that Sam was simply fucking with him. Something heavy was about to claw through Sam, something heavy that could determine the outcome of this very day. “It was from Mary, (y/n)’s sister.”

Now it was on Dean to freeze, not expecting his brother to speak her name. Their eyes met, urging Sam to keep on speaking, to tell his brother about the email he had opened with shaky fingers, freezing in his step as he read the words she had written to him. 

“(Y/n)’s getting married, Dean.” Sam was forced to watch Dean sink back into the seat, arms crossed in front of his chest, uneasy eyes staring down at the table. And for a moment, neither of them spoke, letting the words sink in – words that had been Dean’s greatest fear ever since he had left her all these years ago. 

He had been stupid back then, too childish for his own good. Guided by his father’s words, he had dropped (y/n) and the life they could have lived together. His father had made pretty promises, telling his young son of women awaiting him, women he shouldn’t miss out on because of a marriage that would only tie him to (y/n), away from all the fun he could experience. The greatest mistake of his life, a mistake he hated himself for every single day. 

“That’s good for her. I’m happy she found somebody who treats her right.” The words pained Dean to speak, rolling off his tongue with a sharp edge that left Sam cringing. His hand found Dean’s forearm, gently squeezing his brother’s arm in a gesture so unfamiliar, Dean had to stop himself from shaking off Sam’s hand. 

“Dean, I’ve always loved her like a sister, I only want what’s best for her. But you’re my brother, I know how much not having her around scars you, I see it every day on your face. Get her back, try it at least.” 

Of all the things that I've been afraid to lose, my greatest fear of all is losing you

……

“I shouldn’t do this.” They were parked in front of the small church, eyes watching the big crowd of unfamiliar faces. Both Dean and Sam were wearing a suit, knowing that they had to blend in with the wedding guests to find their way to (y/n). “Why should she take me back? Why should she even listen to me?”

“Dean, if there is one thing I know it’s that she still loves you. Let’s get your girl back.” Sam was first to step out into the warm morning, eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses as they walked up to the crowd. He felt Dean close, not daring to speak up with his choked-up throat, with his heart pounding in his chest, knowing that this would be his only shot to make things right for once in his life. 

“Mary!” Sam’s voice echoed through the air, eyes focused on the frame of (y/n)’s sister. The young woman flung herself into Sam’s open arms, chuckling into his neck as he held her close for a moment. A moment too long for Dean who was growing more antsy with every passing second. 

“Thank you for coming. She’s making a mistake, Sam. You’re my only hope with this.” The words left Dean frozen, confused eyes flickering between his brother and Mary. He hadn’t read the email Mary had sent to Sam, hadn’t asked any further questions about the man (y/n) was about to marry, trusting that he was somebody she loved. “Come, I’ll bring you to her.”

“What the fuck man?” Dean growled the words at Sam as he followed them through the crowd and towards a small house built near the church. Sam fell into pace with his brother, watching Mary lead them towards the place where (y/n) was currently getting ready. 

“Well, you didn’t think I’d let you do this without knowing (y/n) would willingly leave her fiancé, did you? I wouldn’t destroy her happiness just like that, Dean.” Realistically, Dean should have known that Sam wouldn’t just push him into this without knowing that there was a chance to get her back. Sam had hated him for a while after he had left (y/n), punishing Dean for breaking her heart at any given chance, a broken bond that had needed months to be repaired. 

“(Y/n)? I brought two special guests.” Mary’s voice echoed through the small cabin, ringing in the brother’s ears as they waited outside. Dean felt his hands tremble, forced to let go of deep exhales as Mary opened the door for them, allowing them to step inside. His eyes were drawn to (y/n)’s like a moth to a flame, and his world stopped spinning, unable to focus on anything but her.

It took (y/n) a second to react, seemingly confused about the appearance of the two hunters she hadn’t seen in years. She was pulled into a hug by Sam, giving Dean another moment to admire her, the white dress she wore – a sight he had only seen in his dreams, imagining this very day, with him waiting at the altar for her. Dreams that had evaporated into a hazy nothingness the day he had left her. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” She sank into Dean’s grasp, clinging to him as if he hadn’t been the man who had broken her heart all these years ago. He watched his brother and Mary leave the cabin, giving the two some time alone as they kept on holding one another. 

“What are you doing here, Dean?” (Y/n) mumbled the words against the fabric of his suit jacket, not caring about smudging her make-up, not caring about anything but the way Dean held her close – as if he hadn’t ever stopped holding her. Carefully, Dean let her go, needing to give them some distance for the words he was about to speak, knowing that this could escalate any moment now. 

“I can’t let you marry another man without telling you that leaving you was my greatest mistake. A life without you has always been my biggest fear, I was stupid, so fucking stupid, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have listened to Dad, I should have married you right that day. And I hate myself for not doing it, for letting you go when you have always been my whole world. I know there is no chance for me to make things right, and even though Sammy and Mary hope that I will sweep you off of your feet and bring you back home to us, I know I can’t.” Tears dripped from her eyes, tears (y/n) didn’t care to wipe away. 

“I hated you for years, you broke me, Dean. You took away my life, my friends, the people I had grown to love. You ripped my heart right out of my chest, and even though I tried to fight for it, to regain its strength, I miserably failed. I should curse you, should tell you to fuck off and never show your face to me again. But I can’t. For Christ’s sake, Dean. What are we doing here?” He cupped her face with shaking fingers, letting his forest-green eyes run over her gorgeous face. 

“I want to kill him for getting a chance to love you, time that has been wasted because of me. But I don’t want to take another choice from you. If you want to marry him, I will watch from the first row, hell, I’ll even carry your veil.” His voice shook as he whispered the words, growing tense as (y/n) rested her hands on top of his, still cupping her cheeks.

“And if I don’t want to marry him?” 

……

I'm scared to take another picture of you, 'cause I'm scared to have another thing that I can lose, oh, dear, who am I without you here?

“I thought you were taking me home, where are we going?” Her laughter echoed through Baby, eyes set on Dean’s grinning features. They had left the church a while ago, running away like she had secretly hoped they would. (Y/n) had always been a dreamer, a dreamer who had pictured that very moment since the day it had dawned on her – about to marry a man she didn’t love. A man who wasn’t Dean Winchester. 

“We’ve got another thing to take care of first, I am not losing any more time.” Baby screeched to a halt in front of a pink church, a sight that left (y/n) confused, and Dean and Sam chuckling. They made their way into the church, with her fingers interlaced with Dean’s, with her white wedding gown clinging to her frame, with his suit hugging his frame. 

“Dean, Sam, I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you two around here!” An elderly man greeted them with a big smile. His brown eyes were drawn to (y/n)’s almost instantly, with a knowing smile growing on his lips – a smile that had an almost proud touch to it. “That’s her, huh? Took you quite some time, didn’t it.” “(Y/n), that’s Danny, an old friend of ours we met on a hunt. He could wed us, with Sammy as our witness, if you’ll have me.” Her heart had stopped beating, skipping a few beats as Dean’s words sank in. Her teary eyes found his and with a laugh clawing through her, she pressed a kiss to his lips, drawing a groan out of Dean, who tried to prolong the kiss for as long as possible. 

“I will always have you, Dean.” She was pulled towards the altar, unable to stop her tears from dripping as Danny began speaking a prayer she paid no attention to. All (y/n) could do was study Dean, the love swimming in his pupils, the way he looked at her as if she was his sun, alighting the darkest days with her mere presence. A soul crafted for his to hold onto, to love till their time together would eventually run out. 

“Do you have any rings?” Danny’s soft voice ripped (y/n) out of her thoughts, about to whisper a soft, disappointed “No”, but before she could even part her lips, Sam excitedly spoke up. Her eyes watched the tall Winchester brother, how he reached for his breast pocket to expose a small envelope to her glassy eyes. Wordlessly he pushed it towards Dean, who opened it with an unwavering smile stuck to his lips. 

“I bought these rings years ago, sure to eventually push yours down on your finger. I am sorry it took me this long.” Her sob left Dean chuckling, exposing his also teary eyes to hers. She had held onto all these longings for years, mere dreams that were now finally turning real – as if she was just sleeping through another longing. 

But, you're here, now, and that makes it better, somehow

……

“Let me.” Dean’s soft voice filled his bedroom. He was standing behind (y/n), carefully helping her out of her wedding dress with his gaze focused on the ring clinging to his finger. The past hours had flown by all too quickly, turning her from a runaway bride into his wife. His wife. A title so unfamiliar, Dean had to fight against the urge to pinch himself.

His for eternity. His to love. His to worship. 

“I love you, Dean.” (Y/n) whispered her words as she stepped out of her dress, exposing her underwear-clad frame to his hungry eyes. She was pulled into a teeth-chasing kiss, a kiss dripping with emotions that made her feel all too dizzy, having to hold onto Dean before she could be ripped into another dimension. 

“I love you too, sweetheart. And I’m so fucking sorry for missing out on this for years.” He pressed her down on the mattress, giving her a show as he slowly undressed. Her body was aching for him, needing to feel Dean close after all these long years apart. 

“Stop apologising with words and show me that you truly mean them.” His lips kissed her chest, the valley between her breasts as he undid her bra, exposing her hardening nipples to his twinkling eyes. Dean could cum just from the sight of her naked frame, a sight he had only seen in his dreams for the past years, not daring to imagine being this fortunate again. 

“God, you’re so beautiful. I promise to worship you for as long as you want me to.” Dean’s raspy words vibrated on her skin, covering her body with goosebumps as he kneaded her soft flesh. His cock was pressed against her clothed heat, drawing moans from her whenever he moved against her heat, desperate for the kind of friction that left them both trembling.

“I need you inside of me, Dean.” Her raspy whispers left him groaning against her skin as she raised her hips to help him pull her damp panties down her legs. Just this morning, (y/n) had imagined this very moment, knowing that she’d think of Dean when her husband touched her, a loveless marriage she would have been trapped in. 

“Are you still on birth control?” (Y/n) could only nod her head, mind taken up by the feeling of his wandering hands, keeping her pressed against him. Dean's cock twitched against her naked cunt, brushing through her arousal-covered folds to coat himself, “I love you, and I’ll do my best to prove it to you for the rest of our lives.”

“I love you too, Dean.” He pushed into her with a groan, forehead falling against hers as she fluttered around him. It felt as if he had entered paradise, falling to rest on clouds covering his body. She was his Elysium, his safe haven, the one where Dean could be the truest version of himself. 

He moved slowly at first, both needed some time to adjust to one another after all these years, but the second their bodies relaxed, properly enjoying one another’s closeness, Dean began to move faster. Their bodies met with every thrust, eyes holding a contact so intense, (y/n) feared her heart would explode right in her chest. 

Dean was taking his time with her, this wasn’t a rushed fuck to make up for all the time lost, no, it was so much more. This was the purest form of love, a one-of-a-kind love both had clung to in lonely nights, with wandering minds and trembling hands. This is what they had been destined to have, years ago – a love they were now rediscovering. 

“You feel so good, baby.” He felt her clenching around his cock, drawing another gritty sound out of Dean. (Y/n) was long gone, pushed into another dimension where she only knew Dean, nothing but his love, his touch, his irrevocable longing for her. Sensations she was taken hostage by, unable to shake them. 

His warm fingertips found her pulsing bundle, circling it with just enough pressure to draw his name out of her. (Y/n) could feel her orgasm slithering its way up her body, whispering to her to hold onto her husband, and with her fingernails clawed into Dean’s shoulders, she came. He followed her right down the edge, moaning against her lips as their bodies were moulded together. 

“Fuck, we’ll have to do that all through the night, husband.” (Y/n) whispered the words as a few heavy pants left her, making a laugh claw out of Dean who chased her slightly swollen lips for another kiss. 

“Trust me, I won’t let you leave our bed for weeks, wife.” 

Don't know how the broken pieces fit together if you leave it, so, don't go, don't go, I would take your hand if I could reach it

[rishiguro]

HAIKYUU CHARACTERS AND HOW THEY BREAK YOUR HEART

ft. oikawa; sugawara; atsumu; ushijima; kita

OIKAWA TOORU: makes time for everyone but you

you tried to ignore the sting in your heart, tossing your phone on the mattress. at this point you were setting yourself up for the hurt and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from watching his stories. and he was always out and about, meeting various people — friends, colleagues, family, coworkers, anybody. just not you. you were always left behind, barely seeing your boyfriend, only getting a few texts. you knew he had a lot on his plate but would it kill him to spend some time with you, or just acknowledge your existence? you sighed. surely he was just busy, right?

SUGAWARA KOUSHI: forgets about his promises

“i’m so sorry,” he immediately said as soon as he saw you all dressed up, “i forgot” you pressed your lips into a thin line, nodding slowly. “i figured. i’m going to take a shower” before he could say anything you rushed past your boyfriend, shutting the bathroom door behind you before stepping to the sink, washing your flushed face as the tears started to fall. you shouldn’t even be surprised — and honestly you weren’t really — but you were disappointed. he didn’t mean to forget, at least that’s what you had been telling yourself. but there was only so much you could take and slowly but surely you reached your breaking point.

MIYA ATSUMU: always puts his work before you

you shook your head as you put your phone away, politely asking the waiter for your check. by now you were basically used to the pitiful glances and hushed whispers behind your back, so you skillfully ignored them when leaving the restaurant. with every step you took towards your car, you could feel the cold creeping up on you as your heart grew heavier and heavier. you knew what you were getting yourself into when you decided to get together with him, but it didn’t hurt any less when he stood you up — when practice ran longer than expected, when he decided to get some extra training or when he was too exhausted to even send you a message.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI: always confuses you with somebody else

“i got you your favorite” he held up a take out bag with a warm smile on his face. “thank you,” you said with your most convincing smile on your face, which immediately dropped as soon as he left your field of view. as soon as you recognized the logo on the plastic you felt your heart ache. you wanted to give him credit, he was trying, he really was, but you couldn’t help but feel hurt — whatever he got, it was never what he thought it was. his friend’s favorite snacks that you didn’t like, his best friend’s favorite movie that brought back bad memories or his ex partner’s favorite food.

KITA SHINSUKE: uses your insecurities against you

with hurt visible in your eyes, you turned around, quickly making your way into your bedroom. “you can’t just simply walk away when things aren’t going your way—,” you heard him shout behind you before you slammed the door and as soon as you were alone, the tears began to fall. you loved him and you were convinced that he loved you too. he even told you so daily and made you feel like the most important person in your life. and he failed to realize that you weren’t him — he couldn’t see how his bluntness hurt you or how his supposed honesty only broke you. how much more could you take before you completely shattered?

reblogs are appreciated

[forwhomthewordsflow]

Sleeping Conditions

steve harrington x fem!reader

18+ ONLY MDNI!!!

warnings: established relationship, some allusions to smut, reader has breasts, fluff, fluff, more fluff, some anxiety

author's note: i felt the need to validate my own specific sleeping conditions with this little blurb that ended up being longer than expected...we're not high maintenance! we just wanna sleep!

word count: 2.6k

The weatherman had jovially warned the city of Hawkins this morning about a bit of rain that was supposed to roll in later on in the evening.  A slight drizzle, just enough to water the grass but nothing to worry about.

Except, the weatherman seemed to have underestimated today’s weather, because you were currently sat down on the couch at your boyfriend’s house watching the torrential downpour that was occurring outside his living room window. 

Normally, this would be cause for celebration.  An impromptu sleepover at Steve’s house! Yay!

But you were not celebrating, no.  You were sort of freaking out, actually.

You’re able to fully recognize how strange it is for someone to have such specific sleeping conditions in the way that you do, but what are you supposed to do?  It’s the only way you can really get a good night’s rest!

In your perfect world, you’re in your room where the thermostat is set at 69.  There is not one light source in sight, you even make sure to throw a t-shirt over the tiny light on your alarm clock.  Alone in your completely pitch black room, you’re able to sleep comfortably in just a pair of comfy panties.  You love the way your two blankets, duvet, and jersey sheet set feel on your bare skin. 

 In order for you to be able to fall asleep the pillow under your head has to be just right, you have to have a slightly flatter pillow parallel to your body, your smallest blanket has to be tucked between your legs in a specific way, and the blankets have to be adjusted based on how hot or cold you feel on that particular night.  

When plans are made for you to sleep somewhere else, you always make sure to bring your two pillows and your smallest blanket, but you still can’t seem to sleep that well unless you’re really tired. 

It’s really a lot.

So naturally, with all of this in mind, you’re freaking out about having to stay the night at Steve’s house tonight. 

You love him, you really do, but your relationship with him is still relatively new.  You’ve only spent the night together a handful of times, and those nights of sleep for you were always aided by the effects of one too many drinks at the Hideout with friends or a passionate night of lovemaking. 

You’ve never had a normal night in with Steve before.

And he is so excited about it.

Steve’s been craving any ounce of domesticity with you that he can get.  Sure, he’s made you romantic dinners before and you’ve come over for movie nights a bunch of times, but it’s never been just a normal sleepover.

He can’t wait to watch you go through your night routine, to cuddle up with you in bed as you both fall asleep, and then to wake up to you tomorrow morning.

He was all too excited to alert you to the fact that you wouldn’t be able to drive home safely tonight, and that you’d most likely have to stay the night with him.

-

You’re thankful Steve hasn’t noticed how anxious you’re becoming as the night goes on, because he’s so sweet that you could cry.

He watched you through the mirror as you brushed your teeth together side by side.  

The huge grin on his face made it hard for him to get to his back teeth, but he’d gladly sacrifice one night of dental hygiene for you any time. 

He sat on the toilet and gazed adoringly at you as you washed your face and brushed your hair.  

Steve was happy that the travel sized toiletries he’d purchased for you a couple weeks ago were being put to use.

You took a longer time than you normally would in an attempt to delay the inevitable, but Steve was on an opposite mission.

When you were finished in the bathroom, Steve ran into his bedroom to fix up his bed and lay out a t-shirt for you to sleep in. 

You stood there nervously, holding the t-shirt in your slightly shaking hands.  You know you won’t be able to sleep in this, but would Steve be comfortable with you sleeping practically naked?  He might take it as a sign that you want to have sex or something, but you’re feeling much too anxious to get into that headspace right now.  

Steve notices you standing at the foot of his bed, staring down at his faded Hawkins Athletics t-shirt in your hands.

“Everything okay, baby?”

Your head shoots up to meet his eyes, quickly trying your best to wipe the upset look off of your face.  You nod your head and smile over at Steve.  

Steve shoots you a warm grin, he’s not convinced that you’re totally fine, but he’s assuming you’re just a little nervous about the storm or staying the night with him.  

You retreat back into his bathroom to change out of your clothes and into his t-shirt, which Steve finds a little odd.  He’s seen every square inch of your body, and you’ve certainly changed in front of him before, but he shrugs and goes back to fluffing his pillows for you.  

Meanwhile, you’re taking comfort in the smell of Steve on his shirt, holding it up to your nose and taking deep breaths over and over hoping to calm yourself down.

So what if you can’t sleep tonight?  You’ve definitely survived through sleepless nights before.

But Steve would definitely notice if you couldn’t sleep.  He’s so caring and attentive.  

That means that he’ll be awake worrying about why you’re not asleep, which keeps him from getting any sleep, and then you’ll both just be awake and miserable all night long.

Maybe you should just pretend to fall asleep until he actually falls asleep.  

You’re startled by a gentle knock on the door.

“Sweetheart?  I’ve got the bed ready for us.”

You take one more deep breath, exiting the bathroom to envelope Steve in a tight hug around his chest.

He stumbles back a bit at the force of your affections, but is quick to wrap his strong arms around you with a warm chuckle into your hair.

“Ready for bed?” he asks you.

You sigh into his chest.  “As I’ll ever be.”

-

After half an hour of cuddling with Steve, you’ve given up on all attempts to get comfortable.

It’s not that you weren’t comfortable in Steve’s arms, far from it.  The feeling of his naked chest rising and falling against your back and his thick arms surrounding you was possibly the only thing keeping you from crawling out of your skin at the moment. 

Steve’s felt your irregular breathing and squirming for the past ten minutes, but he didn’t want to distract you just in case you were on the cusp of falling asleep.  It was the slightly irritated sigh you let out that let him know that something was wrong.

You knew you shouldn’t have sighed like that, but you couldn’t help it.  The pillow under your head wasn’t right, the blanket on your legs was too warm, and you could feel the tag on Steve’s t-shirt resting at the back of your neck.  You felt Steve’s arms tighten just a bit around you, you had hoped he’d been asleep.

“Hey, you okay?” he whispers into your ear.

“Y-yeah, yeah I’m okay,” you answer, “just trying to get comfy.”

You feel Steve rise to one elbow behind you and you turn your head to look up at him as he clicks on the lamp on his nightstand.

“What can I do to help?”

The sweet, adoring look on his face is what causes the dam to break, and your eyes fill with tears.

Steve is instantly alarmed, rushing to hold your face gently in one of his big hands.

“Baby, baby,” he coos, “Hey, what’s wrong, huh?”

You roughly wipe your face with the heels of your palms, and let out a trembling breath.

“It’s nothing, Steve.  Let’s just go to bed, okay?”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow together as he frowns down at you.  “Baby, I’m sorry but something’s obviously wrong.  Tell me what it is so I can fix it.”  He brings his hand back up to your cheek and lets his thumb stroke your skin back and forth soothingly.  You decide to let it all out.

“It’s just that–I can’t sleep here.”

Steve looks at you confused.  “I–you’ve slept here before, right?”

“I mean, yes, but also no.  It’s all so complicated Stevie.”

He sees that your walls are starting to come down with the use of your favorite pet name for him.  He loves when you call him Stevie, it’s only when you’re being soft and sweet with him that you use it.

“Just tell me what’s bothering you, baby, please.  Maybe I won’t think it’s so complicated.”  Steve strokes the hair next to your ear and speaks to you in his lower, warmer, sleepy voice.  It’s like a balm to all of your worries.

“I have these very specific sleeping conditions at home.  If it’s not just right, then I can’t sleep.”

Steve nods his head.  “What kind of conditions are we talking about?”

You take a deep breath, readying yourself to lay it all out on the table in front of Steve, hoping and praying that he doesn’t think that you’re some kind of high maintenance freak when it’s all over.

“I can’t sleep with a shirt on, it feels weird on my skin.  And I can’t sleep without my pillows from my bed.  Or my blanket between my legs.  And I feel all hot and itchy and it’s usually so cold and dark in my room.”  You’d been ranting while making an effort to not meet Steve’s eyes, worried at what you might see there.  When you finally do look at him, he’s hard to read.

“I know it’s a lot and it’s probably too much and I’m probably too much and-”

You're interrupted by Steve placing his pointer over your lips to silence you.  The firm stare he’s fixing you with commands of your attention.

“First of all, you are not, ever too much.  I can handle anything you throw at me, baby.  I swear.”

The edges of your lips quirk up in the beginnings of a smile, Steve takes his finger from your lips and goes back to holding the side of your face.

“Why didn’t you tell me about all of this before we laid down?”

You huff softly and look away, embarrassed to have been so scared to tell him about your anxieties when he’s obviously the greatest, sweetest, most understanding boyfriend on the planet. 

“I guess I was just nervous that you’d think I was high maintenance.”

Steve scoffs.  “You’re saying this to the guy who used to wake up an hour earlier for school in the mornings so that he could do his hair every day.”  Steve playfully growls into your neck when he says this, and you can’t hold back your giggles.

He looks at you, still stroking your hair, and smiles before planting a kiss on your lips and pulling away with a ‘mwah.’

“What can we do to make it better, hm?”

You think for a bit, and then sheepishly ask, “Would it be okay if I slept without my shirt?”

Steve blushes and blinks at you a few times, shocked that you’d even feel like you had to ask.

“Of course, baby.  I’d never say no to that, c’mon now.”  You both sit up, giggling softly as he helps you take your his shirt off.  Steve seems to be trapped in a daze, his eyes glazing over as he takes in all of your newly naked skin.

“What’s next?” he slurs, still staring at your chest.  You laugh and playfully shove his shoulder, breaking him out of his trance.

You look around at the bed and his room, biting your lip while you think of how else to make yourself more comfortable. 

“Do you have any extra pillows maybe?” you ask, bringing your knees to your chest and resting your chin on top of them.

Steve does a quick survey of his room, then remembers that he might’ve seen some in his closet.  He darts out of bed and makes his way over to his closet to search for them.

You take this opportunity to bask in the love you have for him.  In the warm light of his lamp, you watch as the muscles of his upper body flex and ripple while he rummages through his closet.  You can’t believe that this beautiful man is not only yours, but that he’s going through all of this effort just to make sure you can sleep comfortably with him in his bed.  You’re so unbelievably lucky.

Steve turns around to triumphantly hold up two pillows for you to inspect.  

“Which one?” He asks. 

“Both, if that’s okay.”  He nods and hurries back over to the bed, pillows in hand.  You take one and place it on top of the one you had been laying on, trying to copy the fullness of your pillow at home.  You take the second pillow and place it between your legs, for your right leg to rest on top of.  You’d always loved sleeping on your side, but hated the feeling of your thighs sticking together.

Steve tries to be good, but he can’t help himself from watching your naked breasts move while you readjust the pillows to your liking.  He feels a warmth in his chest as he observes you making yourself comfortable in his bed, and he wishes for many, many more nights like this.  

You adjust the blankets around your leg so that your leg isn’t completely covered, and you finally lay down with a huff.  

“Better?” Steve asks as he leans over to turn his lamp off.  He’s happy to slide behind you once again, relishing in the feel of your bare skin on his.

“I think so.”

Everything is fine, really.  It’s just that the pillow in between your thighs keeps slipping away.  Ugh.

“You think so?” Steve tickles your side with his fingers, he loves the sound of your girlish giggles.

“It’s just the pillow between my legs.  It won’t stay put.”

Steve takes a breath, assessing the situation.  He doesn’t really have any other throw blankets lying around, and he makes a mental note to buy some more before the next time you come over.  Then, he gets an idea.

“Can I try something?”

You turn your head towards him and nod, curious about what his idea is.

Steve takes the pillow from your legs and pulls it out from under the comforter, tossing it at the end of the bed.  He then grabs your right thigh and lifts it a bit.  You begin to question his plan, but then you feel the warmth of his right thigh sliding between yours.  Steve hikes his knee up a little higher on the bed, so that his thigh fits snuggly in between your legs.  

“Oh,” you say, cheeks heating up at the feeling of his thick, muscular thigh against your core.

You adjust your hips a bit, and then at last relax into Steve’s embrace, comfy at last.

Steve laughs smugly, “Is that alright?”

“Mhmm,” you murmur, smiling and already feeling sleepier by the second.

“Goodnight sweetheart,” Steve whispers into your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“G’night Stevie,” you reply.

The last thing you feel before drifting off into dreamland are Steve’s arms tightening around you, holding you as you sleep soundly all through the night.

taglist <3

@josephquinnsfreckles @the-fairy-anon @anukulee @yujyujj @littlebebebunny @meetmeatyourworst @lalalala-melmosworld @someantics

[reidmarieprentiss]

Too Damn Young: Part One

Summary: You and Spencer meet when you're both 18, you fall in love quickly and everything feels like a dream. Unfortunately, reality reminds you that sometimes even though people don't fall out of love, they don't always stay together.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: suggestive content (16+), loss of virginity (not described) young love, unhappy ending, divorced parents, emotional strain with mom

Word count: 11.5k

a/n: this is not a summer fling!!! they are in loveee and i promise there will be a part two and it will be happier!!!

main masterlist

It’s the summer after your senior year of high school, and you’re caught in that strange, in-between space where the world feels wide open but also incredibly small. San Luis Obispo, with its familiar streets and faces, starts to feel more like a cage than the cozy town you grew up in. Everyone around you seems to be moving on, heading off to college, or traveling to far-flung places, leaving you behind to figure out what’s next. You’re not sure what you want to do with your life yet, so for now, you’re staying put, even though it feels like the walls are closing in a little more each day.

“Feet off the coffee table, Y/N,” your mother sighed as she walked into the living room, her voice carrying the usual exhaustion and concern.

You glanced up from your phone, your feet still comfortably propped up on the coffee table. “You never cared before…” you muttered, not really in the mood for another one of these talks.

She sighed again, more deeply this time, as if she was bracing herself for what she was about to say. “Well, before, you were in school and not at home all day.”

You frowned, feeling the sting of her words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why don’t you get a job? Or go make some friends?” she suggested, her tone trying to be encouraging but not quite hitting the mark. “Oh! You could go walk on campus, maybe it will inspire you.”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to hide your frustration. The last thing you wanted to do was wander around a college campus that wasn’t even yours, pretending to be inspired by something you weren’t sure you even cared about. But the way your mother was looking at you, with hope and a touch of worry, made you bite back the sarcastic response that was on the tip of your tongue.

Instead, you just sighed and looked away, feeling the weight of her expectations pressing down on you. “Maybe,” you mumbled, not committing to anything, but not outright refusing either. You could tell she wanted you to do something, anything, to shake off this sense of being stuck. But the truth was, you weren’t sure where to start, or if you even wanted to.

—

Spencer Reid arrived in town carrying the weight of moving his mother into a mental care facility, something that’s left him feeling more vulnerable than ever. Starting his PhD program in a new place where he doesn’t know anyone is daunting, but there’s a flicker of hope that things might be different this time. He’s no longer the child prodigy being scrutinized by older students; now, at least, he’s finally an adult, and maybe—just maybe—people will see him as one.

He opened the door to his new apartment, the hinges creaking slightly as it swung open to reveal the small, yet functional space that would be his home for the foreseeable future. The apartment was modest, furnished with the bare essentials, but it was clean and had a certain charm, or so he tried to convince himself. This place was provided by the program he was a part of, a stroke of pure luck. 

Spencer set down his suitcase and took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to ground himself in this new reality. As he began to unpack and organize, the familiar rhythm of settling in started to take over, a ritual he had grown accustomed to over the years. But as he moved from room to room, he quickly realized something unsettling—he lacked a lot of the basic things that had always been provided for him in other housing situations, like the dorms and shared accommodations he had known before.

No dish soap, no paper towels, no trash bags—nothing that could help him actually live in this space comfortably. The realization hit him harder than it should have, maybe because of the long day, or maybe because of everything else weighing on his mind.

Spencer glanced at the clock. It was just past midnight. The last thing he wanted to do was venture out into the world right now, but he knew he had to. He couldn’t just sit here, surrounded by empty shelves and a lingering sense of displacement. With a resigned sigh, he decided it was time to go on a mission—a mission to find a store that was open this late.

He grabbed his jacket, mentally preparing himself for the challenge ahead. “How many people could really be out at 12 a.m. on a Tuesday?” he muttered to himself, trying to inject some optimism into his tone, though it came out more as a question than a statement.

As he stepped outside into the cool night air, the streets of San Luis Obispo were quieter than he expected, almost eerily so. The unfamiliarity of the town, combined with the late hour, made him feel like he was stepping into a different world altogether. But there was a certain solace in the solitude, a small comfort in the fact that he wouldn’t have to navigate crowds or make small talk with strangers.

—

You wandered down the aisles of the 24-hour market, the quiet hum of the overhead lights and the distant sound of a radio playing in the background the only noise in the otherwise silent store. It was strange to see it so empty, almost eerie, but there was a certain comfort in not having to navigate through crowds or make polite small talk with anyone. Tonight was all about one thing: satisfying that sudden, undeniable craving for your favorite ice cream.

As you rounded the corner into the freezer section, your mind focused on the treat you were about to indulge in, a sharp pain shot through your foot. "Ow!" you yelped, instinctively jumping back from the source of the pain—a shopping cart that had just run over your toes.

"Oh my god, I am so, so sorry! I didn’t see you there," came a voice from the other side of the cart, the owner of it looking every bit like a kicked puppy. His face was a mix of genuine concern and a hint of panic, as if this small accident was the last thing he needed tonight.

You bit back the initial irritation, quickly realizing this guy was already on the verge of a meltdown. "It’s fine, man, it’s not like there’s a lot of people around to watch out for anyway," you joked, hoping to ease the tension. The last thing you wanted was for this to turn into some big, awkward thing.

He tried to laugh, though it came out shaky and unsure. “Ye—yeah, it’s pretty late.”

You nodded, sensing his awkwardness and suddenly feeling a bit of it yourself. "Yup, well, try not to run anyone else over," you teased lightly, giving him a small smile before stepping past him to continue your mission.

As you walked away, Spencer shook his head, his expression clouding over with self-reproach. He started mumbling to himself, words of self-criticism spilling out in a low voice, but you didn’t catch any of it. Your mind was already back on your goal, and when you finally spotted your favorite ice cream, all thoughts of the encounter slipped away. 

With your prize in hand, you made your way to the checkout and then headed home, unaware of the lingering impact that brief interaction had left on him.

—

Spencer finally felt like he had made his new apartment feel like home. The once-empty shelves were now stocked with cleaning supplies and other basic necessities, and though he wasn’t really one for decorating, the furniture provided by the campus and his own collection of books, awards, and memorabilia gave the space a sense of familiarity. It wasn’t flashy, but it was his.

Yet, after a few days of getting settled, Spencer began to feel something gnawing at him—a sense of being cooped up. He was no stranger to spending long hours alone, buried in his studies or lost in thought, but the endless California sunshine streaming through his windows, and the distant sounds of laughter and life happening outside, started to pull at him. The world outside felt alive in a way his apartment couldn’t match.

Spencer stood by his bookshelf, running a finger along the spines of his well-loved volumes, but the itch to get out and breathe the fresh air was undeniable. Maybe it was time to explore a little, to break up the routine and experience something new. He recalled reading about a bookstore down by the beach, a place that sounded like the perfect combination of quiet and lively—somewhere he could disappear into a sea of books but still feel connected to the world outside.

Grabbing his tote bag, empty and ready to be filled with new reads, Spencer slung it over his shoulder. With one last glance around his apartment, he stepped out, feeling a sense of excitement with a touch of nerves. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for, but he knew he needed to be out there, under that California sun, even if just for a little while. The bookstore by the beach seemed like the perfect place to start.

—

Your mom had really been on your case lately, pushing you to get out of the house and do something with your time. She’d made it clear that your late-night escapades didn’t count, much to your dismay. Each time you’d excitedly recount your quiet midnight walks or the random people you’d encounter, she would just shake her head, unimpressed. She meant during the day—when the sun was shining and the world was alive.

So, in an effort to appease her, you started to drag yourself out of bed each morning and head down to the beach. If you had to be outside, you might as well make the most of it. Lazing around on the sand didn’t seem so bad, especially when you could feel the warmth of the sun on your skin. You convinced yourself that at least you’d get a tan out of this forced outdoor time, right?

After a few days of this new routine, something caught your eye—a "help wanted" sign hanging in the window of a small bookstore that sat right along the sandy sidewalk of the beach. You paused, considering it for a moment. Working in a bookstore couldn’t be all that bad. After all, you loved reading. The idea of spending your days surrounded by books sounded infinitely better than more awkward mother-daughter conversations about your lack of daytime activities.

With that thought, you stepped inside and inquired about the position. The place smelled like old paper and salt air, and the sweet old man behind the counter greeted you with a kind, if tired, smile. He explained that he desperately needed help; his partner had passed recently, and he had been struggling to keep the shop running on his own. They had no children or kin to pass the shop along to, and he had resigned himself to working alone—until you walked in.

You applied on the spot and, to your surprise, heard back immediately. They really needed the help. The next day, you started as their first and only employee, stepping into a quiet world of books and stories just waiting to be discovered.

—

The bell above the door dinged, signaling a customer had entered the bookstore. You bookmarked your place in the novel you’d been reading and set it aside before calling out, “Welcome in.”

At first glance, the customer paid no attention to you, his focus solely on the shelves of books in front of him. But as you looked up from your counter, you froze for a second—it was the guy from the 24-hour market. The one who had run over your toes with his cart. For a brief moment, panic surged through you, the irrational thought crossing your mind that maybe he was stalking you. But that idea quickly faded when you remembered how adorably awkward he had been. And, if you were honest with yourself, even if he was stalking you, you might just be flattered. He was quite attractive—adorable in a geeky way, charming in an awkward way, and just plain handsome.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you slid off your stool behind the counter and walked over to where he was browsing, his nose already buried in the pages of a book. “Can I help you find anything?” you asked, leaning over his shoulder with your hands behind your back, trying to get a glimpse of what he was reading.

Spencer, completely absorbed in the first chapter of the book, didn’t hear you approach. He yelped and dropped the book, spinning around to face you with wide eyes. “Uh—um, no—no thank you, miss,” he stammered, clearly flustered both from the shock of your sudden presence and the quick realization that you were the same person he’d bumped into at the market. And now, seeing you up close in the daylight, he was even more struck by how pretty you were.

You chuckled, reaching down to grab the book he had dropped. “This is a good one,” you said, handing it back to him with a friendly smile. “I read it last week. I’d definitely recommend it.”

Spencer took the book from your hand, his own hands almost shaking. “Th-thank you,” he managed, clearing his throat. “Thank you…”

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself, grinning a little wider. “And you are?”

“Spencer Reid. Uh, Spencer.”

“Well, Spencer Reid,” you teased, “it’s nice to see you again. Are my toes safe this time?”

Spencer blinked, and then recognition lit his eyes as he remembered. His face flushed with embarrassment, but he gave you a small, sheepish smile. “Yes, your toes are perfectly safe this time,” he assured you, still clearly flustered but trying to keep his cool.

“That’s good to hear,” you stifled a laugh, unable to resist teasing him further. “I can’t say the same about yours, though,” you added over your shoulder, turning to walk back toward the counter.

Spencer, intrigued and not quite understanding what you meant, quickly asked, “What? Why not?” He followed after you, just as you had hoped he would.

When you reached the counter, you nodded your head toward him, silently encouraging him to join you. He hesitated, glancing around the quiet, empty store, but when he saw no one else there, he finally gave in and walked over.

“She’s why,” you giggled softly, leaning down to scratch the head of an old tabby cat that had appeared on the counter. She purred loudly, her eyes half-closed in contentment. Spencer’s eyes softened at the sight of the cat.

“Oh, she’s so pretty,” he mused, leaning in next to you to scratch the cat as well.

“Careful,” you began to warn, “she—oh,” you said, surprised as Nala, the cat, nuzzled affectionately into Spencer’s hand. “She usually doesn’t take well to strangers, especially men.”

Spencer blushed a little, his eyes widening slightly in disbelief. “Really?”

You nodded, watching the way Nala practically melted under his touch. “Yeah, I guess you’re special,” you said, smiling at him.

And you weren’t wrong. As Spencer continued to visit the bookstore at least once a week, sometimes just to browse, sometimes to chat, you’d come to realize just how special he really was. Nala certainly knew it first, and as time went on, you couldn’t help but see it too.

—

“So,” you sighed dramatically, flipping through the newspaper in search of the crossword puzzle, “my mom is making me go out to our lake house in Lake Tahoe all by myself this year to check on it. She doesn’t want to go without her new girlfriend, and the girlfriend doesn’t want to go, period.” You rolled your eyes, clearly exasperated, as you vented to Spencer. He nodded along, his eyes fixed on you, absorbing every word like it was the most important thing in the world.

“I have to drive all the way there, almost seven hours, just to make sure the heat pump still works, the pipes didn’t burst during the winter, and all that other nonsense,” you continued, your frustration spilling out in each sentence.

Spencer seemed to mull over your words for a moment, the gears in his mind turning before he casually shrugged and said, “I’ll go with you.”

Your head snapped up, your voice jumping an octave. “What?”

“Yeah,” he repeated, more cautiously this time. “I mean, if you want me to. I could keep you company. I don’t know how to drive, but… you wouldn’t be alone.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown by his offer. “Wait—what? You don’t know how to drive? How old are you again?”

“Y/N…” Spencer’s face flushed with embarrassment, his eyes dropping for a second before he met your gaze again. “You know I’m 18, and you know I was a child prodigy. I didn’t have time to learn how to drive.”

The realization made you laugh, an idea immediately sparking in your mind. “I could teach you!” you said, jumping off your stool in excitement.

“No, no, that’s a bad idea,” Spencer protested quickly, shaking his head as if the thought of being behind the wheel terrified him.

“It’s a great idea!” you argued, grinning at him. “You come to Tahoe with me, and I’ll teach you how to drive. It’s perfect!”

Spencer hesitated, clearly unsure about the whole thing, but your enthusiasm was hard to resist. Even he couldn’t deny that the trip might be a little more interesting with you by his side.

“Fine,” Spencer finally relented, though the nervous edge to his voice lingered. “But on my terms.”

You grinned, raising your hands in surrender. “Deal! Oh my god, this is so exciting. Now I’m actually looking forward to it!”

Spencer smiled shyly, his heart doing an odd little flip at your enthusiasm. Over the past few weeks, he had realized that his crush on you had grown significantly, but he couldn’t quite figure out if you felt the same. Sometimes, he thought you might—there were moments when your smiles lingered a little too long or your teasing became just a little too playful. But then there were the times when you casually mentioned people asking you out, and it made him doubt whether you saw him that way at all.

“When are we going?” he asked, trying to push the uncertainty out of his mind.

“Oh, yeah, hah,” you laughed lightly, “We’d leave Saturday morning.”

“Oh!” Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. “As in two days from now? Why are you just now telling me?”

“My mom just told me!” you said, shrugging like it wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Fair enough.” Spencer sighed, already mentally preparing himself for the trip. “I’ll go home and start packing. See you Saturday? Should I meet you here?”

You shook your head and handed him your phone, your fingers brushing against his as he took it. “Hmm, no. Here, put in your number and text me your address. I’ll pick you up.”

Spencer blushed, the warmth creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. “Okay…” he mumbled as he carefully entered his number into your phone, hoping his hands weren’t shaking too noticeably.

You took the phone back, flashing him one last grin before heading back to the counter. Spencer, now flustered and nervous about the weekend ahead, could only hope that maybe—just maybe—this trip would give him the chance to figure out where he stood with you.

—

As you drove along the winding roads leading to the lake house, Spencer's knuckles turned white as he clutched the door handle, his life flashing before his eyes with every sharp turn and sudden stop. Your driving might have been a bit... enthusiastic, but he found it hard to complain when he saw how happy you were, with the wind in your hair and a bright smile on your face. The open road seemed to breathe life back into you, away from home and responsibilities.

Spencer found himself utterly captivated. It wasn’t just the excitement of the trip—it was you. The way you belted out lyrics to your favorite songs without a care in the world, or how you launched into endless stories that would zigzag through a million different tangents before somehow snapping back to the original point. It was chaotic, but in the best way. In those moments, he could easily say this was already shaping up to be the best summer of his life.

At one point, you caught him staring, and with a mischievous smile, you asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Spencer shook himself out of his daze, heat creeping up his neck. “Oh, uh, you’re really pre—crazy. You’re a crazy driver,” he blurted out, sticking his tongue out playfully.

Your laughter echoed in the car, ignoring his slip-up as you teased, “You love it.”

Eventually, the car rolled to a stop in the driveway of your vacation home, a secluded and stunning house nestled right by the water. The lake stretched out in front of it, reflecting the trees and the sky in the stillness of the water. Spencer took in the sight, his unease fading as he realized just how beautiful and peaceful the place was.

“Wait…” Spencer said, a hint of mock worry creeping into his voice. “You didn’t bring me out here to kill me, did you?”

That startled a huge laugh out of you. “Shit, that was precisely my plan, but now you’ve ruined it!”

You both grabbed your bags and a few supplies from the car before making your way into the cozy lake house. The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with the scent of pine and the comforting warmth of the space. You couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement—it had been a while since you'd been here, and it felt like a retreat from everything back home.

“Okay!” you clapped your hands together. “Why don’t you go and take a look around? I’ll handle the checks really quick so we can just enjoy our time here!”

Spencer nodded, feeling a sense of awe as he wandered off to explore. The house was even more beautiful inside, with large windows showcasing the shimmering lake, tall ceilings, and wooden accents that gave it a rustic charm. It felt like the perfect getaway. He couldn’t help but think how lucky he was to be here, to experience something like this with you.

Despite growing up in Nevada, his family never brought him to places like this. His father had left when Spencer was young, and his mother’s declining health meant that traveling was difficult, even impossible at times. As he wandered through the house, looking at the furniture, the wooden beams, and the peaceful surroundings, Spencer felt a twinge of sadness mixed with gratitude. This was new for him—a taste of something he hadn’t even realized he missed out on.

“Hey, Spence, you good?” you asked, coming up behind him, startling him once again.

He jumped slightly, spinning around to face you with a sheepish grin. “Yup! Just… taking in the view.”

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” you sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder, the gesture so casual yet intimate. The two of you stood in silence for a moment, soaking in the peaceful surroundings through the large windows overlooking the lake.

Spencer felt the warmth of your presence, the soft weight of your head on his shoulder, and for a brief second, the world outside seemed to fade away. He glanced down at you, trying to calm the flutter of his heart, feeling like maybe—just maybe—you were seeing this moment the same way he was.

—

The sky had turned into a blanket of stars, each one twinkling like a small firefly against the deep navy blue. The crisp night air had set in, making the warmth of the blanket you had wrapped around yourself all the more comforting as you sat on the deck, gazing up at the infinite sky.

Spencer was sitting nearby, his eyes occasionally darting from the stars to you, as if he were trying to capture both views. His natural curiosity about the universe seemed to blend with the simple contentment of just being here with you. The soft sound of water lapping against the dock and the quiet chirping of night creatures made everything feel serene.

You noticed him shiver slightly from the cool breeze that had picked up, and without thinking twice, you lifted the corner of the blanket and turned toward him. “Hey, come join me under here. It’s freezing out.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his eyes widening as he processed the invitation, but after only a beat, he scooted closer, accepting your offer. He slid under the blanket beside you, his arm brushing against yours as he tried to get comfortable.

“Better?” you teased, a soft smile playing on your lips as you looked at him from the corner of your eye.

He nodded, the warmth from the blanket and your closeness making him feel more at ease. “Much better,” he replied, a shy but pleased smile tugging at his lips.

You chuckled softly and leaned in just a little closer. “You know, Spence, I never pegged you for a stargazer.”

He glanced up at the sky again, his eyes shining with the reflection of the stars above. “I guess I’ve just never really had the opportunity to appreciate it. But this…” He gestured slightly to the sky and then to you, his voice soft. “It’s kind of perfect.”

You felt a warm flush at his words, your smile deepening as you nudged him playfully. “I’ll take the credit for the blanket and the company, but I can’t do much about the stars.”

Spencer chuckled, his laughter quiet and warm. “Well, you’re definitely making it better,” he said, his tone flirtatious but still unsure, like he was testing the waters. He shifted just slightly under the blanket, your shoulders now pressed against each other, the warmth between you a comforting contrast to the cool night air.

You turned your head toward him, catching his gaze in the soft glow of the moonlight. “I think you’re the one making it better, actually,” you teased lightly, the flirty edge in your voice impossible to miss.

Spencer’s breath caught for just a second, and he smiled—a real, genuine, and slightly bashful smile that made your heart skip. Neither of you said anything more for a moment, just sitting there, cozy under the shared blanket, watching the stars as the night wrapped itself around you.

—

The next morning, Spencer woke up feeling something he hadn’t felt in a long time—excitement. He jumped out of bed, an unusual spring in his step as he followed the delicious smell of pancakes drifting through the house. His heart was still fluttering from the night before, but the cozy warmth he felt with you had turned into something more eager and alive.

As he stepped into the kitchen, the sight before him stopped him dead in his tracks. You were standing at the stove, wearing the tiniest pair of shorts Spencer had ever seen, paired with a tight tank top that hugged your curves and rolls in ways that made his pulse race. His mouth went dry—well, until the smell of the pancakes reached him again, and he couldn’t tell if his hunger was for the food or… well, you.

You turned at the sound of his footsteps, flashing him a playful smile. “Good morning, sleepyhead! I know you’ve got a sweet tooth, so don’t even think about telling me you don’t like pancakes,” you teased, pointing a spatula at him in mock accusation.

For a moment, Spencer was utterly starstruck. You looked radiant, the soft morning light streaming in through the windows making you glow. But what really sent him reeling was how the thin material of your tank top clung to you, especially how your breasts pressed against it as you moved. He quickly looked up, his face already heating, but his brain seemed to short-circuit for a second.

“Uh, um, yeah, I love pancakes,” he stammered, trying his best to sound normal. “Thank you.” 

You smiled sweetly, seemingly unaware of the internal chaos you’d stirred in him. “Good, because I made way too many,” you said with a wink, plating up a stack of pancakes and setting it on the counter. “Come on, grab a seat. They’re best when they’re hot.”

Spencer nodded, his movements slightly robotic as he took a seat, forcing himself to focus on the food and not how close you were as you set the plate in front of him. The morning air was warm, but the atmosphere between you two felt even warmer. As you sat down across from him, he couldn’t help but feel like something was shifting between you—something exciting, and possibly dangerous for his already fragile composure.

—

That afternoon, you and Spencer strolled through the charming town center of Lake Tahoe, taking in the relaxed vibe and the quaint shops lining the streets. The day had been filled with lighthearted fun—nothing too serious, just the two of you enjoying each other’s company. You couldn’t help but smile as you pointed out little details of the town, laughing at Spencer’s commentary and feeling a sense of ease that came so naturally with him.

But then, as you browsed one of the boutique shops, a mischievous thought crossed your mind. You turned to Spencer, feigning an innocent realization. “Oh, I totally forgot to pack a swimsuit!”

He blinked, caught off guard by your sudden announcement. “You… you forgot to pack a swimsuit?”

You shrugged casually, glancing toward the back of the shop where the swimwear section was. “Yeah, I mean, I’m gonna need one if we want to hit the water, right?”

Spencer nodded slowly, looking a little confused but following along. You weren’t entirely sure, but you were starting to feel like maybe he saw you as more than just a friend. There had been glances, small moments—like when you caught him staring or how he’d shyly brush against you. And truth be told, you felt a spark with him too, something that made you want to push the boundaries just a little, to see how far they would stretch.

“Do you… uh, want my help choosing one?” Spencer asked, his voice a little shaky as he tried to keep his cool.

You smiled sweetly, barely able to contain your amusement. “Well, yeah, Spence,” you giggled. “I need a second opinion! I can’t buy something that makes me look bad, right?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but before his brain could stop him, the words slipped out. “I don’t think you could look bad in anything.”

The second the sentence left his lips, Spencer’s face turned a shade of red you’d only seen once before when he’d been particularly flustered. His eyes widened in panic, as though he couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud.

You couldn’t help but giggle, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the sunshine outside. “Aw, Spence,” you teased gently, reaching out to touch his arm. “That’s sweet.”

Spencer looked away, clearly embarrassed, but you could see the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It was adorable how easily he could be thrown off balance around you, and you secretly loved that you had that effect on him. 

“Okay, so I personally think I look good in red…” you mused aloud, casually flipping through the racks of swimsuits that, if Spencer had a weak heart, would definitely send him into cardiac arrest. You picked up a bold red bikini and glanced over at him with a raised brow. “But your favorite color is purple, right?”

“Huh?” Spencer was caught off guard, blinking rapidly as he processed your question. “Yeah, it is.” He was surprised, and admittedly touched, that you remembered something so seemingly small.

“Well then, let’s try this on!” you declared with a bright smile, grabbing a deep purple swimsuit off the rack in one hand and reaching for Spencer’s hand with the other. Before he could protest, you were dragging him toward the fitting rooms.

“Y/N, I can’t come back there with you,” he said, his voice rising in a panic as the realization of what was happening hit him.

You sent him a playful glare over your shoulder, the kind that made his heart race even faster. “You can and you will, unless you think I should walk out here and let the whole store see me?”

“Nope!” Spencer yelped immediately, his face turning an impressive shade of red. He hated that idea. The thought of other people seeing you in something as revealing as a swimsuit made his stomach churn, and the words left his mouth before he could think twice. “I’ll come back…”

The fitting room was more casual than expected—just one room with a curtain separating the changing area from a small sitting spot. Spencer sat down on a cushioned bench, his heart pounding in his chest as you slipped behind the curtain, out of sight.

For a moment, he could only stare at the fabric of the curtain, feeling like he was in some surreal daydream. The small sounds of you moving around behind the curtain sent his imagination spiraling in ways he really didn’t want it to go, but he couldn’t help it.

“How’s it going back there?” Spencer asked awkwardly, fidgeting with his hands as he tried to distract himself from the situation.

You giggled softly from behind the curtain, and he could hear the light rustling of fabric as you adjusted the swimsuit. “Almost ready. Just… a sec.”

Spencer swallowed hard, unsure if he was ready for whatever was coming next. His heart beat faster with every passing second, and he wasn’t sure whether to brace himself for a disaster or… something else entirely.

And then you stepped out from behind the curtain, more confident than Spencer could ever hope to be. The swimsuit you had chosen—a soft purple that hugged your curves and contrasted beautifully with your skin—made Spencer’s heart stop. For a moment, all he could do was stare, frozen in place, his mind short-circuiting at the sight of you standing there in all your stunning glory.

You did a small, playful spin, the movement so effortless and carefree, and Spencer choked on his spit at the sight of your ass as you turned. His face went from pale to a deep, crimson red in less than a second.

“Well…?” you asked, your voice playful, a little teasing as you caught his stunned expression. “What do you think?”

Spencer blinked rapidly, trying to regain his composure, but the words seemed to be stuck in his throat. He opened his mouth to respond but all that came out was a strangled noise that sounded somewhere between awe and panic.

You smiled, clearly amused by his flustered reaction. “Come on, Spence,” you pressed gently, stepping closer to him, “I need to know if it’s a keeper or not.”

He finally managed to stammer something that resembled coherence. “I-I think… it’s perfect.” He gulped. “You look… incredible.”

You grinned, pleased by his approval. “You sure? I mean, I don’t want to walk around looking bad.”

Spencer shook his head quickly. “No, no, not at all. You… you couldn’t look bad if you tried.”

Your smile softened, and for a moment, the teasing air between you two shifted into something warmer, something real. Spencer was still blushing furiously, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes, something more than just admiration.

“Thanks, Spence,” you said quietly, the playful edge fading as you felt the weight of his gaze on you. It wasn’t just about the swimsuit anymore—it was about the way he looked at you, like you were the most beautiful thing in the room. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to make you feel it too.

The air between you shifted, the teasing moment turning into something heavier, more charged. You suddenly felt shy, your confidence wavering as you caught the intensity of Spencer’s gaze, still lingering on you.

“Um… Spence?” you asked, your voice softer now.

“Yeah?” he responded, his voice quiet, his eyes still fixed on you like he was in a haze.

You bit your lip, your heart racing as you glanced at the mirror. “Can you, uh… help me adjust the straps? I can’t reach,” you said, the words tumbling out. It was a lie, and you both knew it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You wanted to feel his hands on you, to see if the tension in the air was something more than just a moment.

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, but without a word, he stood up, his movements slow and deliberate, almost as if he was on autopilot. He walked toward you, his steps careful, the space between you closing with every second.

You turned to face the mirror inside the changing room, stepping just a little closer to the glass, forcing Spencer to enter the small space with you. The two of you were now standing so close, his breath warm against the back of your neck. You could feel the heat radiating off him as his fingers lightly brushed against your skin, adjusting the strap of the swimsuit with a tenderness that made your pulse quicken.

The moment stretched, neither of you speaking, both of you hyper-aware of the other’s presence. His hands lingered on your shoulders, and when you glanced at his reflection in the mirror, you saw the way his eyes had darkened, his gaze flicking between your face and the curve of your neck.

You swallowed, feeling the tension thick between you. “Spence…” you whispered, turning your head slightly to look up at him over your shoulder.

His gaze locked with yours, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped. The small space, the mirror, the soft rustling of clothes in the distance—it all faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in this intimate moment.

Without thinking, you turned fully, facing him now. Your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it. His hands were still on your shoulders, his fingers trembling slightly. And then, before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, closing the distance between you and pressing your lips softly against his.

Spencer froze for a split second, his mind trying to catch up with what was happening, but then he melted into the kiss, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you closer. It was soft at first, shy, tentative, like both of you were testing the waters. But then, as you deepened the kiss, the shyness started to fade, replaced by something warmer, something real.

You pulled back slowly, not wanting to push things too far in such a public place, but you couldn’t resist the tender moment. Your thumb dragged lightly across Spencer’s bottom lip, his mouth curving into a soft smile under your touch.

“I hope that was okay,” you whispered, suddenly afraid to break the delicate bubble the two of you had created. The world outside seemed distant, as though it didn’t exist beyond this tiny, intimate space.

Spencer let out a soft laugh, his voice still filled with a mix of awe and shyness. “Considering that was my first kiss, it was amazing.”

You blinked, looking at him in shock. “That was your first kiss? Oh, Spencer, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even ask if you—” But before you could finish your frantic apology, Spencer leaned down and kissed you again, his hands resting on your waist, pulling you closer.

The kiss was slower this time, more confident. He wasn’t holding back, and neither were you. When he pulled back, his lips barely an inch from yours, he whispered against your skin, “I could not have asked for a better person.”

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice making the moment feel even more special. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling like this was a turning point—something that was destined to happen, like you were meant to share this with him.

—

That night, everything felt light and easy between you and Spencer. The kitchen was filled with laughter and warmth as you both cooked dinner together. Every so often, you’d lean over to steal a playful kiss, the steam from the boiling noodles creating a cozy, almost magical atmosphere around you. Spencer’s awkwardness had melted away by then, replaced with a soft confidence that showed in the way he kissed you back, teasing you as he pretended to stir the sauce.

After dinner, you found yourselves sitting on the floor, playing a few rounds of Mancala, each of you laughing as you tried to out-strategize the other. But eventually, the pull of the hot tub outside became too tempting to resist.

You changed into your new swimsuit and waited outside, the night air cool against your skin but the anticipation of the hot water—and of Spencer—keeping you warm. When he finally stepped outside, you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips.

There he was, standing in the doorway in blue banana-print swim trunks, his lanky frame looking more adorable than you could have imagined. You felt a rush of excitement at seeing him like this, so much of him exposed, his vulnerability on full display in the cutest way possible.

“Don’t laugh,” Spencer whined, clearly embarrassed, his cheeks flushing pink.

“Spence, they’re cute!” you reassured him, still grinning as you tried to hold back more laughter. You walked over and tugged lightly at the waistband of his trunks, giving him a playful smile. “I love them.”

He looked at you, his shyness melting away under your warmth, and after a moment, he finally smiled. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I mean it,” you said, stepping closer, your hands resting on his chest. “They’re very you.”

Spencer rolled his eyes but his smile remained, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear before taking your hand and leading you toward the hot tub. The playful teasing was replaced by a quiet excitement, the warmth of the tub waiting for you both.

You and Spencer settled into the hot tub, the warmth of the water enveloping both of you as you leaned back, the night sky above dotted with stars. The steam curled around your bodies, making everything feel soft and dreamlike. You let out a contented sigh, closing your eyes for a moment.

“This is perfect,” you murmured, glancing over at Spencer, who was sitting stiffly on the opposite side, his hands gripping the edge of the tub.

“It’s… nice,” he replied, though his face was scrunched up in thought, like something was bothering him.

You raised an eyebrow at him, amused by his hesitance. “You okay, Spence?”

He hesitated for a moment, then blurted, “Do you know how many germs are in a hot tub?”

You burst out laughing, completely caught off guard. “What? No! Spencer, don’t ruin this for me!” you teased, splashing a little water in his direction.

“I’m serious!” he insisted, his voice rising slightly as he adjusted his glasses, which were already fogging up from the steam. “Hot tubs are like… breeding grounds for bacteria. The warm water creates the perfect environment for microorganisms to thrive, and if the pH or chlorine levels aren’t properly maintained, it can lead to a whole range of infections—skin, respiratory, you name it.”

You giggled, shaking your head in disbelief. “Only you would bring up bacteria in a hot tub. Come on, relax for once!”

Spencer’s face was a mix of genuine concern and embarrassment as he continued, clearly unable to stop himself now that he’d gotten started. “No, really, the CDC recommends monitoring hot tub water regularly because—"

You cut him off by playfully splashing him again, this time a bit more, laughing as you watched him sputter, pushing his glasses up as they slid down his nose.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” you said between fits of giggles. “But you’re in here now, so unless you want to hop out and start running tests, you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

Spencer looked at you for a moment, as if considering the possibility of actually running tests, but then he laughed softly, shaking his head. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though there was a fondness in his voice that made you smile.

“Look, the hot tub may be full of germs, but at least I’m not,” you teased, leaning a little closer to him. “So how about you just focus on me instead of all the invisible bacteria?”

He blinked, his eyes darting between yours and the water for a moment before he finally let out a breath and relaxed, a small smile playing on his lips. “You make a good argument,” he admitted.

“See?” you said, inching even closer to him, your shoulders almost touching. “Now, doesn’t this feel better than worrying about germs?”

Spencer chuckled, his arm sliding across the back of the tub as he allowed himself to relax a bit more. “Yeah,” he admitted softly. “Much better.”

The playful conversation in the hot tub eventually faded into a comfortable silence, the only sound being the soft bubbling of the water. You noticed Spencer had gone quiet, and when you glanced over at him, you realized why. His eyes kept darting down to your chest, unable to hide his fascination.

You tried to hold back a giggle but couldn’t. “Spence… my eyes are up here,” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

He immediately flushed red, looking away in embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry! It’s just… I didn’t know that…” He trailed off, unsure how to finish his sentence without digging himself deeper into the hole of awkwardness he had created.

“Didn’t know what?” you asked, amused by how flustered he was becoming. “That they could float?”

Spencer hesitated before nodding, clearly mortified. “Well… yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I guess I didn’t think about it before, but, uh, it’s interesting. Scientifically, I mean.”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, causing Spencer’s blush to deepen even further. “Oh, Spence, you’re adorable,” you said, still giggling. “They’re just balls of fat, you know?”

He blinked at you, his curiosity piqued now that you’d made it sound so simple. “I guess that makes sense,” he murmured, still staring despite his best efforts to focus on something else.

A playful, daring thought popped into your head then. You leaned in closer, biting your lip slightly before whispering, “You know… if you want, you can touch them.”

Spencer’s eyes went wide, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. “W-What?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked at you in disbelief, as if he wasn’t sure whether he’d heard you correctly.

You smiled, your expression soft but teasing. “I’m serious,” you said, your voice gentle but laced with curiosity. “It’s okay if you want to. I mean… it’s not like I mind.”

For a moment, Spencer seemed frozen, his mind likely racing through a million thoughts all at once. You could see the internal battle on his face—his logical brain warring with his curiosity and the undeniable attraction between the two of you. Finally, he swallowed hard and nodded, still unsure but willing to trust you.

Slowly, almost cautiously, his hand reached out, fingers trembling slightly as they hovered near your chest. When his hand finally made contact, his touch was soft and hesitant, like he was afraid to hurt you. His wide eyes stayed fixed on you the entire time, clearly amazed by the experience but also checking to make sure you were okay with it.

“Wow,” he breathed out, his voice barely audible, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your breast as if he were studying it in awe. You could see the genuine fascination on his face, his scientific curiosity mixing with something much more intimate.

You smiled softly at him, letting him take his time, feeling the weight of the moment between you two. This wasn’t just a playful interaction anymore—it had shifted into something more vulnerable, more personal. And in that moment, you both felt it.

"Spencer?" you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up, his wide eyes meeting yours, his hands still gently fondling your breasts as if he were afraid to break the delicate moment between you. "Yeah?" he responded, his voice just as soft, the world around you both feeling smaller, quieter.

"Kiss me," you breathed out, the words slipping from your lips like a secret you’d been holding in, waiting for just the right moment to share.

For a second, Spencer just stared at you, his mind seemingly struggling to catch up with what you had said. Then, slowly, as if in a trance, he leaned in, his breath warm against your lips. His hands, still resting on your chest, slid down to your waist, pulling you closer as he closed the distance between you.

The kiss was soft, tender at first, like he was still testing the waters, but the heat between you was undeniable. His lips pressed against yours with more confidence as the moment deepened, his touch growing bolder. You could feel the tremble in his hands, the nervousness and excitement coursing through him, mirroring your own feelings.

You leaned into him, your arms sliding around his neck as the kiss deepened. The steam from the hot tub swirled around you both, but the warmth between you was far more intense than the water. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other.

"Spence…" you whispered, your voice filled with a mixture of affection and awe. You could feel the shift between you two, the unspoken understanding that this moment had changed everything.

He smiled shyly, his hands still resting gently on your skin. "That… was amazing," he whispered back, his voice filled with wonder, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

You grinned, pressing a soft kiss to his lips again, a silent promise of more to come.

That night, under the soft glow of the moon and the warmth of the water still clinging to your skin, you and Spencer shared something deeper than either of you had anticipated. What started as tender kisses turned into a night of exploration, vulnerability, and intimacy. You took each other’s virginity, not in a rushed or hurried way, but slowly, carefully, cherishing each touch, each whispered word of affection.

It wasn’t just physical; it felt like you were sharing more than just your bodies. You both made quiet promises, unspoken at first, then whispered into the darkness—promises of staying together, of not letting this be a fleeting summer memory. You could feel the weight of it, the significance of this moment between you two, and you knew Spencer felt it too.

By the time the night faded into dawn, you were no longer just friends. You had come to the lake house as two people testing the waters of something deeper, but you were leaving as partners, bound by the connection you had built together over these few days. It felt like the start of something real, something lasting. And in your heart, you knew it was.

—

A year later, everything had fallen into place in ways you couldn’t have imagined. You and Spencer were stronger than ever, navigating your lives together as you both pursued your dreams. Spencer was deep into his PhD program, doing incredible work that often left you in awe of just how brilliant he was. You, on the other hand, had officially taken ownership of the bookstore after Mr. Jannell, the original owner, retired, and though it was a huge responsibility, it felt like you were carving out a life you were proud of. At just 19, both of you were on paths that felt meaningful and fulfilling.

Spencer had taken you to meet his mom, Diana, and you two had bonded almost instantly. Diana adored you, and before long, the two of you were “thick as thieves,” as Spencer liked to put it—sometimes much to his own chagrin. He’d always joke about how he couldn’t keep up with the way you and his mother teamed up against him during conversations, but deep down, you knew how much it meant to him that you got along so well.

When it came time for you to introduce Spencer to your family, it was a bit more complex. Your mom and her girlfriend liked Spencer well enough, and while he was perfectly polite, the truth was, you didn’t care much about their approval. The meeting you were really excited for was the one with your dad. He lived in Oregon, and though you had once planned to move there to be closer to him, meeting Spencer had changed your plans.

The trip to Oregon was everything you had hoped it would be. Your dad and Spencer hit it off immediately, bonding over literature, fine arts, sports statistics, and even chess. You could see the relief on Spencer’s face when he realized that your dad was a kind-hearted, free spirit—someone who truly understood and appreciated you. It meant the world to Spencer to have a father figure he could trust, and your dad made sure to let him know that he was always welcome to reach out, even giving him his personal number.

It was during that trip that both you and Spencer felt the confirmation that you were absolutely perfect for each other. The shared dreams, the easy companionship, the way your lives fit together—it all seemed to point to something greater.

So, when Spencer finished his PhD program at the age of 20, it felt like the most natural next step when he proposed. The way he looked at you, the ring in his hand, and the soft words he spoke made your heart swell. You had come so far together, and now, the future stretched out before you, full of possibilities you were ready to explore as partners for life.

"Oh my god, Spencer, yes!" you screamed, your heart racing with excitement. "Of course I'll marry you!" 

And just like that, everything changed. You and Spencer were married, two best friends who had found each other in your small hometown and realized there was no one else in the world you’d rather spend your life with. It felt surreal at times—how lucky you were to have met and married someone who knew you better than anyone, someone who adored every part of you.

Spencer, for his part, was over the moon. He couldn’t believe that he’d found the perfect woman who not only supported him but loved him in ways he never thought possible. You were his best friend, his confidant, and now, his wife. It was a dream come true, and there wasn’t a day that passed where he didn’t marvel at the life you were building together.

Diana was beyond thrilled for the two of you, offering nothing but love and encouragement. Your father had been equally supportive, loving Spencer like a son from the moment they met. As for your mom and her girlfriend, they had expressed concern about how young you both were, warning you about the challenges of getting married so early in life. But, as always, their warnings fell on deaf ears—you had never really taken their advice to heart, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

You and Spencer knew, deep down, that what you had was real and lasting. You had both seen the future stretched out before you, and it was full of promise—promises you were ready to make good on, together.

—

It wasn’t until two years into your marriage that the cracks started to show, subtle at first but growing more obvious as time passed. Spencer had been on the lookout for new work, eager to challenge himself in ways his current job couldn’t. So when the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI reached out to him, it felt like a sign—an opportunity to use his big, brilliant mind in ways that could really make a difference. You couldn’t have been more proud of him when he told you, beaming as he shared the news. Your heart swelled with pride.

But the excitement quickly turned into a complicated issue. You had worked so hard over the past few years, growing your business until you owned not just one but two popular storefronts. Both were thriving, and while you had employees, your presence was necessary almost daily to keep things running smoothly. There was always something that needed your attention, always a fire to put out. The idea of uprooting everything and moving to Virginia for Spencer’s new role felt impossible—laughable even.

The moment Spencer saw how you reacted, the light in his eyes dimmed. He didn’t argue, didn’t push the idea. Instead, he swallowed his feelings and forced a smile, telling you that it was okay, that he didn’t need to move, that his job at Caltech was enough. He could stay. How could he tell the love of his life that he did want more? That he wanted to move, grow, and do something that felt more important than the work he was doing here?

So, he stayed silent. He resolved to push the opportunity aside and stay in California, continuing his work in the engineering department. But you noticed. Over the next few months, Spencer changed. He wasn’t the same bright-eyed, enthusiastic man who used to come home excited to tell you about his day. Instead, he was coming home fatigued, emotionally drained, going to bed earlier than usual and struggling to get up in the mornings. There was a heaviness about him, a weariness that worried you more with each passing day.

You could see the signs, but you didn’t know what was causing them. Your heart ached with the thought that Spencer might be struggling with something deeper, something like depression. You didn’t know how to help him, and that uncertainty weighed on you both.

“Hey, baby,” you greeted softly as Spencer walked through the door. He dropped his bag and jacket in the hall closet before slumping onto the couch next to you, immediately curling into your side, his head finding its usual spot against your chest.

“Hi,” he mumbled, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into you, seeking comfort.

You instinctively began stroking his hair, knowing it always soothed him. “How was your day?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light, even though you could already sense that something was wrong.

“Boring,” he muttered. “Long.”

You hummed softly, continuing to run your fingers through his hair. “I was thinking,” you began hesitantly, “maybe this weekend we could go visit your mom?”

Spencer’s head lifted slightly, his eyes suddenly alert with concern. “Why? Is she okay?”

You quickly shook your head, reaching for his hands. “Yes, love, she’s fine,” you assured him. “It’s just… I can tell you’ve been feeling down recently, and I thought seeing your mom might help. Maybe it would lift your spirits.”

Spencer huffed a breath through his nose, his gaze shifting to the side as he pulled away slightly. “It won’t.”

Your concern deepened, and you searched his face, wondering what was really going on. “What do you mean?” you asked softly, your voice laced with worry.

Spencer sighed heavily, the weight of whatever he had been holding back finally too much to bear. “I got fired today,” he admitted, his voice flat, like he was trying to keep the emotion out of it.

Your heart dropped. “What? Baby, why?” you asked, your tone frantic, already running through every possible reason in your mind.

“I told my boss about the offer from the FBI,” he explained, his hands fidgeting as he spoke. “They said if they fired me, then I could collect unemployment until I start my new job and I would get a severance package.”

Your heart stopped. The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp. “...Start your new job?” you repeated slowly, barely able to get the words out.

Spencer nodded, his gaze still averted. “I accepted the job in Virginia,” he said, his voice quiet, almost as if he were afraid to say it out loud.

“Without telling me? Or asking me?” Your voice trembled slightly as you tried to keep your emotions in check.

Spencer, exhausted and clearly fed up, scoffed, “I didn’t think I needed your permission.”

His tone carried a sharpness that stung, a sass that only came out when he was truly drained. It wasn’t like him to be dismissive, but this felt different. You took a breath, trying to steady yourself.

“No, you don’t,” you said flatly, your voice colder than you intended. “But I am your wife, and I’m pretty sure that decision is going to impact us both. I would have liked to have a say.”

Spencer let out a frustrated breath, his posture stiffening. “So you could say no again?” he snapped, his exhaustion now seeping into anger.

You stared at him, bewildered. “When did I ever say no?” you asked, your voice rising with disbelief.

“When I brought it up the first time, you laughed!” Spencer shot back, his voice louder now, frustration overtaking the sadness that had been weighing him down. “You didn’t take me seriously.”

Your heart raced, and you could feel the tension building. Fighting like this wasn’t something you were used to, especially with him. You hated this feeling of everything slipping through your fingers. “Baby, I didn’t know you were seriously considering it. You never brought it up again.”

“I didn’t want you to tell me we couldn’t make it work,” he said, his voice cracking with sadness now. The frustration in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a deep hurt that made your chest ache. 

You stared at him, the weight of his words settling in. This wasn’t just a fight about a job. It was about more—about unspoken fears, miscommunication, and the silent distance that had crept in between the two of you. You had both been living in your own worlds, not realizing how far apart you were drifting.

The silence between you was heavy, and for the first time, the possibility that maybe—just maybe—you were heading in different directions hung in the air.

“I didn’t say we couldn’t make it work,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, your own sadness mixing with the confusion. “But you made the decision without me… and that’s what hurts.”

Spencer looked at you, his eyes softening, but there was something there—an understanding, maybe—that this was bigger than either of you had anticipated. He hadn’t thought you’d react like this. You hadn’t expected him to push forward without you.

And in that moment, the future you both had built together seemed fragile, hanging in the balance of a choice neither of you had prepared for.

“What are you saying?” Spencer asked carefully, his voice softening, though there was still a thread of hope lingering in his words. “We can make it work? You’ll move with me?”

You hesitated, the weight of his question sinking in. You had both avoided the depth of this conversation for so long, but now it was staring you in the face. “Spencer… I have my stores,” you began, trying to make him understand the complexity of the situation, the commitment you had to your work.

“Can’t you sell them? Or… run them from Virginia?” he suggested, his tone almost casual, as if the solution were that simple.

You blinked, staring at him in disbelief. “It’s not that easy, Spence,” you replied, your voice tight with frustration. “If something goes wrong, I need to be there. I need to be in person to fix it. It’s my business. I can’t just run it from across the country.”

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “I just… my work is important too. Don’t you see that? I’m talking about saving lives, helping people in ways that can make a real difference.”

You felt the sting of his words, the implication behind them cutting deeper than you expected. “What are you saying, Spencer?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, a mixture of disbelief and hurt. “That what I do doesn’t matter?”

Spencer shook his head quickly. “No, that’s not what I meant—”

“But that’s exactly what it sounds like,” you interrupted, your voice louder now, the hurt rising to the surface. “You think because I’m not saving lives, because I’m not doing what you’re doing, that it’s less important? These stores… they mean everything to me. Just because it’s not life or death doesn’t mean it’s not important.”

“I guess I thought I meant everything to you,” Spencer whispered, tears spilling down his cheeks, his voice trembling with heartbreak.

Your own tears began to fall, your chest tightening as you watched the love of your life in such pain. “I thought so too,” you replied, your voice cracking. “But… would you leave everything behind and move across the country for me?” It was a question that hung heavy between you, one that neither of you had ever truly confronted before.

Spencer stared at you, his eyes red and glassy. “What is this?” he asked, his voice shaky. “Are we… are we breaking up?”

Your heart shattered at the thought, and you sobbed softly. “I don’t… I don’t know, Spence. But if you’re moving, I don’t see how we can make this work.” The weight of that reality crushed you both, the finality of it sinking in.

“You won’t even think about coming with me?” Spencer asked, his voice laced with desperation. He wanted to believe there was a chance, a way to bridge the gap.

You shook your head slowly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “Not right now, not when I’m just getting started. I can’t walk away from it.”

Spencer stood then, his movements sharp, final. “Well, I’m just getting started too,” he said, his voice breaking as he tried to hold back his emotions. “Maybe… maybe we were too young.”

You looked up at him, crying harder now. “You don’t mean that,” you choked out, shaking your head. The idea that he could regret the life you’d built together was too much to bear.

But Spencer looked down at you, his face full of sadness and regret. “I think I do,” he said softly, the words hanging between you like a dark cloud. “What were we thinking? We didn’t know what we were going to do with our lives. We should have waited, or… or talked about the future more.”

His words cut deep, each one a painful reminder of how far apart you had grown. The love was still there, strong and undeniable, but the reality of your different paths, your conflicting dreams, was threatening to tear you apart. And neither of you had any idea how to stop it.

—

At the airport, you walked Spencer as far as security would allow, neither of you ready to let go just yet. The reality of the moment weighed heavily on both of you, and as you pulled him into a tight hug, the tears flowed freely, unbidden.

“Spencer,” you whispered as you pulled back slightly, holding his face in your hands so you could look into his eyes. “I am so proud of you. You’re an amazing, wonderful, brilliant person, and you’re going to do great things. Please, don’t be a stranger.”

Spencer smiled through his tears, his expression soft but filled with pain. “Thank you, Y/N. That means so much coming from you. I know you’re going to do great things too. Keep me updated—I still want to be involved in your life.”

You nodded, your heart breaking as you tried to smile through the sadness. “I love you so much, Spence.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “More than I can handle.”

The two of you stood there, holding each other, neither wanting to let go. It felt like an eternity and no time at all before the final call for his flight came over the loudspeaker. Reluctantly, Spencer pulled away, wiping his eyes as he looked at you one last time.

And then, just like that, he was gone.

You stood there for a moment, watching him disappear through security, the reality of it all hitting you like a wave. Alone, 22 years old, divorced, and still in your hometown, the life you’d imagined for the two of you now felt like a distant dream.

To be continued…

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[arcanefox207]

The Wolf You Feed (Part 3)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 6.2k

Part 3 / ? (Ongoing Series) (AO3) (Previous Chapters)

Summary: Set in a fictional New England town, you fall for your handsome, intense and outdoorsy neighbor while renting out your parent's vacant summer home during a brutal winter.

Warnings: No Outbreak, AU but with TLoU characters, Large age gap (Reader is 29. Joel is 50ish). Pet names but no use of Y/N. Reader is smaller than Joel and has hair he can grab. POV Switching. Series contains Angst and lots of Smut (to avoid chapter specific spoilers you can expect things such as but not limited to Unprotected PiV, Cream Pies, Oral, Masturbation, Dom!Joel, Subby reader, Pining, Infidelity, Edging) 

A/N: Chapter 3 starts off VERY Angst heavy! The majority after that is full on smut with some plot development. I'd love to hear feedback on what you think of this chapter. It took me longer to write because I really wanted to nail the angst part so I challenged myself to really make that part hit some feels.

A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T | N O T I F I C A T I O N S

Comments / Reblogs are so incredibly appreciated 🧡

[Joel POV]

Joel sits waiting with a scowl as Tess passes him and joins him across the booth. After a day or two they finally made plans to get together briefly at lunch to talk. 

His scowl softens when he looks at her. His untouched cup of coffee sits between them like a mediator. She leaves her jacket on with no intention of being there long. 

He comes out and says it. Calmly and softly. 

“I can’t do this anymore.” His gaze faces downward and avoids her face.

“Do what?” Tess askes, acting puzzled by their conversation.

Joel gestures his finger pointing between the two of them. His face is solemn as his eyes reluctantly lock with hers. 

“You gotta be kidding me.” Tess scoffs. She searches his eyes for more information but his stare is cold and serious. 

“Whats got you so noble all of a sudden?” She teases, still not really believing him. He can see her working it out in her head.

Joel wants to tell her all about you, but he knows he can’t. 

“Do what you want. I’m not your wife.” 

Joel wants to believe that, but he knows her too well. He hasn’t had success with anyone else in a long time because he hasn’t really tried. Nothing serious, anyways. She knows he is loyal to her at the end of the day. Always has been and always will be. The permission to do whatever with whomever is just an illusion. It never had been challenged before and was just empty words. 

Tess has always had a way to keep Joel on her leash. They were too comfortable with how things were. Their history was long and tumultuous but it was familiar. She had been there for him at his darkest times and he felt an obligation to her. One he had been content with fulfilling. The allure of familiarity was strong, but it was waning and Tess was too preoccupied to stop it.   

“Tess, this thing we have isn’t working.” He pauses. “It hasn’t been working.” His words have more bite than he intended as they leave his mouth. 

“This thing?” Her eyes narrow as she accentuates the word. “Joel, tell me what is really going on.”

The guilt was starting to get to him. It wasn’t fair to Tess and it wasn’t fair to you. It shouldn’t even be an issue, really. Joel’s conflict just further confirmed how entwined he was with Tess and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. 

It was no secret that Tess and Joel were a thing. They were both well respected and liked in town but also had a reputation for being intense if you crossed them. Everyone knew that Joel would break their jaw if they put their hands on Tess for any reason or gave her any trouble. He was her protector and her lover. Whichever one she needed. It was common knowledge that they were in a situationship. There was no romance, but they had an unspoken claim on each other. 

“Whatever this is you are going through is fucking weird.” She waves her hand in front of her, mimicking his ambiguity. Her voice is a little more shaky than before, but still holding back any real emotion. 

He looks down at his coffee. He can feel her gaze boring into him, searching for the source of this conversation. The shame is permeating from him like a stink he can’t wash off and she can smell it.

“So you’ve been fucking around with someone else?” She asks bluntly. Piecing it all together. 

“I didn’t exactly go looking for it.” He says, coldly. Annoyed by her accusation that was by all counts correct. 

“Jesus, Joel.” Her tone is filled with disgust more than anything.

“Don’t, Tess.” His words bite. “You’re never around. Don’t act like we are anything more than that.” 

“Only when you want to get your dick wet.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Fuck you.”

Joel sits, silent. Biting his tongue and trying to keep his cool. He doesn’t want to admit it, but she is right. The one constant in his life the past few years has been Tess. They never were successful in making the leap to something legitimate. They were both too headstrong and too stubborn. 

Oil and water. 

Despite that, they had amazing sexual chemistry, when they made time for each other. Joel had stupidly suggested it might be practical if they moved in together, but she shot that down. Joel wanted some semblance of a relationship and her resistance to that started driving a wedge between them. Things only got more toxic and strained between them after that. Their interactions had been slowly reduced to just the occasional fuck after drinking at the bar and a whole lot of arguing. 

Then you came along. The catalyst that made him question why he was just staying complacent with Tess and how sustainable that really was going to be. You did it all without realizing it.

 “I don’t have time to play games, Joel.” 

“Tess…” He stares at her. “I ain’t playing.” The words come out firmly through gritted teeth and his balled up fist slams on the table making the contents on the surface rattle.  

As much as Tess could be intimidating, it was nothing compared to a worked up Joel Miller. She scoots out from the booth and stands up in a huff, clearly over this conversation. 

“When you’re done having your fun, don’t come looking for me.” 

Her prickly demeanor tears away at his resolve. He doesn’t want to lose Tess, but he doesn’t know how to quit her either. She knows it, too. Dangling her threat in front of him to keep him on the hook. Daring him to eat his words.

Joel feels stricken with panic. His temper cools and is replaced with regret. All he had done was piss her off and work himself up. He was finally saying the words out loud that they both had been avoiding for too long, but he was too afraid to commit and make things final. 

He reaches his arm out like a reflex and grabs her arm as she passes. Their eyes lock in a standoff. Tess has a fire in her eyes but behind that he can see the hurt lurking. He relaxes his grip now that he has her attention and looks away, ashamed. His hand drags down her arm slowly. Tender and apologetic. 

“Will I see you Friday night?” 

Coward. He hates himself as soon as those words leave his mouth. Why couldn’t he just let her walk away?  

“Yeah. Sure.” She conceals the slightest smirk from his sight as she pulls her arm free and keeps walking toward the door. 

Later that night after Joel returns home he has nothing left to distract him. He had worked as late as he could. He had a liquid dinner of whiskey. 

After he showered he got into some sweatpants and a simple cotton tshirt and scrolled mindlessly through the channels. He settled on a mediocre action movie that was halfway over and just let it fill the background noise. 

His mind is on overdrive rehashing the conversation with Tess over and over. Regretting not just letting her go. It was easier to imagine doing that when it wasn’t the heat of the moment. He was so close but he knew she wouldn’t make it easy for him. He knew better than to let himself get wound up too and put her on the defensive. He never wanted to hurt Tess even if he was fed up with her.   

He had no intention of continuing his charades with her and didn’t want to lead her on, but he couldn’t let it end like that. They had too much history. She had been too important to Joel since they met in Boston. He didn’t want to lose what they had, but it was becoming more and more clear that it had been gone for a long time. He still had to try. 

He hated feeling so ambivalent. 

“Damn it, Tess.” He says out loud to himself as he leans forward over his knees with his hands clasped between them. He slams his whiskey glass down on the table in front of him.     

His body is too tense and agitated. He stands up and paces past the front window. His eyes catch the light of your home and he feels a different kind of heat take over. His frustration was looking for any way to escape. He could already feel himself getting hard thinking about fucking you again. A combination of desire for you and aggravation that his situationship with Tess was going to stifle this new flame.  

He braces against the wall and palms himself over his pants with deep, labored strokes. He reaches his hand inside and continues. His cock is begging for your touch. 

Your touch. 

It all seemed so clear to him at this moment. You were exactly what he needed. What he wanted. In the short time he had come to know you one thing was certain. Being around you made him feel good. 

He withdraws his hand with a pained restraint and instead picks up his phone.       

Joel needs to see you. He sends you a text. 

[Reader POV]

Joel: Come over?

No preamble. No context. You read the message and then read it again. 

You: Sure

There is nothing you’d like more. You want to tell him that, but you keep it short and sweet.

It was already getting late but you didn’t want to question it too much. It’s not like you were doing anything important anyways. You had already made a deal with yourself to let things cool off a little so that you didn’t come off desperate with how badly he made you want him. 

This unexpected late night invitation was very much welcomed. Whatever reason Joel had to invite you over, you were ready to find out.   

You throw on a pair of jeans, grab your jacket and head over on foot. The cool air is soothing. It helps calm you down as you can feel your heart racing the closer you get. His home was becoming more and more familiar to you. It was hard not to pass it everyday and want to be back inside and wonder what he was up to. Joel was becoming more and more familiar. You had never felt so enamored with a guy before. Much less someone like Joel and especially not someone old enough to be your dad. You knew so little about him, too. Something you plan to remedy when you are not being dickmatized. 

He answers the door as you approach it and you step in, scuffing your boots to kick off the snow. You notice how dimly lit the place is with only the light from his TV and the wood stove burning low. A single light in the kitchen above the sink where you first got to experience his touch. 

You turn to face him as he closes the door. He looks on edge.

He takes a step towards you and grabs your chin, directing you to look up at him. His eyes are dark and his energy is agitated. Hungry. Lustful. Something is off but you can’t quite place it. You infer that his silence means he didn’t invite you over to chat so you don’t pry. Shoot first and ask questions later was becoming the status quo. 

He brushes his thumb across your lip and parts your mouth open slightly. It makes you melt inside as you confirm this invitation was for all the reasons you had hoped. You give him a sultry smirk and tease the tip of his thumb with your tongue.

No words are spoken as he closes the gap and shoves his tongue in your mouth. He presses into you and turns you to swap positions so he can pin you against the door. You can feel the heat of his cock against you as he devours you with his mouth and grinds into you. You can smell the lingering whiskey on his breath while you make out.

His hands pull your jacket off your shoulders and it falls to the ground. You kick your boots off and let them join the mess of clothing starting to gather at your feet. He pulls your shirt over your head and struggles to undo your bra while his body rocks into you; crowding you in. He is careful not to lose contact with you for long. His mouth roams to your neck and collarbone as you reach your hands down to unbutton your jeans. The cruel barrier between you does little to conceal his hardening cock, poking into you as you struggle to unzip and free yourself from your jeans. 

Your bare back against the door is cold and sends goosebumps through your skin. His hand brushes over your hardening nipple and it sends him in a frenzy that stops you in your tracks as he becomes preoccupied with your hardening buds. 

He hooks his hands under your thighs to hoist you up higher for easier access. You straddle him to help hold yourself up. He maneuvers you so effortlessly. His biceps bulge tightly through the arms of his tshirt as he uses his strength to pin you firmly between him and the door while he ravages your tits. 

Your hands grip into his shoulders and he leans in to take your nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirls and teases as you become harder and more sensitive. 

He is rough and needy. A moan escapes your lips as he sucks hard and flicks you with his tongue before switching over to the other side and does it all over again. He is getting increasingly forceful. 

It’s almost too rough and borders hurting but his unhinged desire to take what he wants in the moment makes you feel euphoric. You want to be at his mercy.

A bite catches you off guard and you and you gasp as he nips at you again with more restraint. He pulls back to control himself, panting and realizing he might be getting too intense. 

He lowers you gently back to your feet and holds your hips firmly. He leans into your ear and his words come out deep and commanding. 

“Bedroom.”

He leads you hastily through the living room to a room you had not been in before. It smells masculine and clean with a woodsy veil lingering from the wood stove. He has dark blue bedding and decor against beautiful rustic, knotty pine walls. It feels comfortable and distinctly Joel. A rush of excitement surges through you. Being in his bedroom. Standing at the foot of his bed.  

He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you and mouths your jawline and collar. It doesn’t take long before he is getting carried away again leaving playful bites on your tender skin. You relish it and welcome being branded by him. You’ve never been with someone so rough and dominant and you find yourself craving this side of Joel. Your body aches for his touch.       

One of his hands is forcefully grabbing your breast and the other he slides down your belly and dips inside your panties. You are embarrassingly aroused already and he feels how wet you are as he grazes over your underwear. He curls two of his fingers under the damp fabric and lets out a low growl as he presses them over your swollen clit and gets them wet at your entrance. His fingers are so thick. He gently works his two fingers in and out of you over and over again while his thumb teases your clit. While he is stretching you out he bites at the crook of your neck and earlobe. His cock poking into you and begging for friction as he grinds it into you.

You can feel him everywhere on your body. All your senses are flooded by his presence. His scent. His heat. His touch.  

He slides his hand up and hooks his fingers on your waistband and tugs them down. You help shimmy out of them and bend over to let them drop to the floor. With one more layer removed you press back into him as you rise back up and feel his hard cock against your ass. You seize the opportunity to tease him back by rubbing up against him. You can feel his cock swelling against you and you let out a needy moan to further tempt him while you slowly rise back up. You want him inside you so badly and you can feel how badly he wants it too.

“Easy,” he says sternly as his hands find a grip on your hips while you push back into him again. You hear a raspy moan catch in his throat. 

“Don’t.” He threatens while he grips you harder and keeps you still. That dangerous side shows itself and it makes you equally turned on as you are intimidated. You listen. 

He removes his other hand from your breast and slides it up around the front of your neck and gently around your throat. He tilts your head back and cups your jawline as he presses a needy kiss into you and turns you around to face him.   

Joel pushes you down gently onto your back. His bed is messy and unkempt and smells like him. He stands at the foot of the bed and pulls his shirt off. His shoulder frame is so wide and his tapered waist teases you with his happy trail spilling out from his pants that are straining to hold him in. He leaves them and seems to ignore his own arousal for a moment to turn his entire focus on you. He drinks in your naked body laid bare before him and bites his lip back with a crooked smile. He has already made a mess of you and he can see how needy you are for him. Keeping his cock hidden seems cruel but you aren’t even sure if you could handle much more of his body at this moment. 

He crawls onto the bed on all fours and situates himself in between your legs. The mattress sinks slightly under his weight as he settles between your legs with his arms holding him up on each side of you. His scruff scrapes the soft skin of your inner thigh as he lowers his head down and it sends a shiver through you. He presses his mouth to the crease at the top of your leg and places a gentle kiss as he moves in closer to your center. 

His movements are slow and deliberate and he is teasing you with anticipation. His eyes lock onto yours. They are blown out and mad with desire. Dangerously hungry.  

“Need to taste you.” He groans and snakes his hands under and around your legs and drags you closer to him, never breaking eye contact. His hands splay over your lower belly and he dives in. Your head tilts back as you stare up at the ceiling and breathe sharply. Your body is floating in pure ecstasy.  

His focus is now entirely on eating you out. He flattens his tongue and licks you up to your clit again and again. You are getting wetter and wetter. He goes at a painfully slow pace and savors your taste. The sensation is intoxicating. He works his tongue with such precision. 

Moans escape your lips and your body writhes under his expert tongue. Your back arches up as he dips further into you. His nose teases your clit while he stretches his tongue inside you. His damp beard scrapes against you as he moves his head, tantalizing your skin.  

Your hands scramble to grab his tousled hair between your legs and you latch onto him and look down to steal a glance while he works. He is so handsome and skilled it doesn’t feel real. You can’t shake the feeling that you are waiting for the other shoe to drop, but at this moment you don’t even care. 

His broadness let him take up so much space and spread you so wide open for him. His shoulders crest as he maneuvers himself deeper and you can see his beading sweat. He is so focused on making you feel good. Making you feel desired while he is genuinely enjoying every moment of it. 

You lay your head back again and your vision starts to fade out as the sensation becomes overpowering. His tongue is relentless, exploring your folds and discovering all the right spots that drive you wild. Your hands tangle in his silver streaked hair and you are certain it has to be hurting him with how hard you are pulling. He does not seem to be fazed in the slightest and only responds with more vigor the harder you pull.   

“Joel. I’m gonna..” 

He interrupts you by sharply pushing you down against the mattress so you can’t squirm anymore. 

“Not yet.” He commands, his eyes staying focused on your cunt while he speaks. “I’m not done with you.” 

He doubles down on his movements to further push your limits. His whole face is buried in you. Pleasuring your most tender parts with a passionate hunger. Savoring your sweetness. 

You writhe under him. His words invigorate you as you grasp onto anything that might help you hold on. His hair. The bed sheets. The comforter balled up around you. He doesn’t seem to mind that your legs are nearly strangling him. You doubt he can even feel it. He is so much bigger and stronger than you.  

He sends you over the edge when he takes your swollen clit between his lips and sucks hard while he swirls it with his tongue. 

You moan as your orgasm washes over you and he goes into a frenzy lapping at you, moaning as he takes all of you in. You have never come so hard before and he is drinking every bit of you. Reaping the benefits of his handiwork.   

You are both panting to catch your breath and enjoy a calm moment as you come down from your high. You look down at him still placed between your legs. He groans as he stiffly adjusts his arms to prop himself up. One of the few moments that reminds you he is damn near 50 years old, and you are surprised to find it so endearing.  

“Holy Fuck, Joel.” you say almost giddy and rest your arm across your forehead and breathe deep. No one has ever pleasured you like Joel Miller and you are pretty sure he knows it. 

His face is shiny and wet from your release and his beard is covered in your slick. He looks feral and depraved as he drags the back of his hand across his face to wipe off your mess but it only smears it more. He licks his bottom lip, and seems pleased to wear your mess like a badge of honor. He was being such a nasty man, but you liked him nasty.

He backs up off the bed and reluctantly stands up. His cock is begging to be touched and let free. He catches the needy way you look at.

“Not yet, baby.” He slides his hand under his waistband and you can see him stroke his length and groan slightly as he slides his pants down. He jerks on it a few more times and you can see it leaking at the tip. It's fat and ready to burst. You can feel your body pulsing, begging to have him inside you. 

“I want more of that pussy first.”

He slips out of his pants completely and then returns to his place on the bed, between your legs. He forces them open with his head. It’s playful but also devious. You didn’t realize how tightly you were holding your legs together until he charged in. 

“Joel!” You whine. 

He ignores you and places a rogue kiss on your abdomen and then resumes fucking you with his tongue. He uses his thumbs to spread your folds open so he can get in deep. You whimper as the pressure on you and inside you builds. You are wet again in no time and he relishes every molecule that coats his tongue.  

He leans into you and pushes your legs back into your chest and laps at you with this new leverage. You can hear him moaning in delight.

“Joel…” You say his name again, louder, trying to get his attention. You are overstimulated and he doesn’t stop. Not that you actually want him to stop, but you do want him to know you are coming undone.

The second wave of pleasure starts to build. You are swollen and begging for his touch. Begging for him to fill you. As good as his tongue feels, you need to feel more of him. Making you beg for his cock turns him on too. He relishes your needy pleas and edges you even more. 

He gets you good and wet and reluctantly pulls away from you and sits up. One hand presses your leg open while the other hand zeroes in on your opening. He dips a finger in and immediately adds another as he fucks you with his thick fingers, twisting them inside you. He wastes no time. Much rougher than earlier. He does it just long enough to get them dripping and feel you clench around him. You let out a whimper as he scissors his fingers and then cruelly pulls out of you, leaving you empty.  

He wasn’t being so nice anymore. His movements were more urgent and practical. He had neglected his swollen cock for long enough.  

His wet hand glides over his shaft while he stares at you.  

“You’re being so good.” he praises. His veiny cock glistening in your slick.

“Gonna fuck you now, Sweetheart.”

He kneels on the bed and leans forward to pull you up. Your legs dangle loosely as he pulls you to your knees and spreads your legs to straddle him in his lap. His weighty cock is between your bodies. He notches it at your entrance and grabs it firmly at the base and pumps it before he guides the head into you. 

Even though you are soaked and he just fingered you it is still a stretch your body isn’t quite ready for. His slicked up, swollen head splits you open and you feel a searing burn as your walls strain to fit him.  

He lets out a grunt as he pushes it in further and locks his hands on your hips. You gasp as he pulls you all the way down to his base and holds you there for a moment. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your head to his chest while your mouth gapes open and you moan. You were not expecting him to fill you with his full length so quickly. He was a lot to take.  

He leans back away from you just far enough to catch your eyes and check in on you. You feel his cock twitch inside you while he is admiring how fucked out you look. 

Your bodies come together again and he grabs you hard. He thrusts up into you and pulls you down on his cock hard as he fucks you. His arms tangle around you as his pace quickens. Your nails claw into his back as you try to desperately grab onto something.

He snarls and nips at your collar as he fucks you relentlessly. He starts to come undone. His undulating thrusts turn chaotic. You can feel his cock swelling inside you, ready to unload. 

You want him to fill you to the brim with his come but you don’t have the capacity to form coherent words. You try anyway holding yourself even tighter against him and moaning. Pleading with your touch. You hadn’t found the appropriate moment to tell him oh, by the way I have an IUD and doing it while being fucked senseless was incredibly difficult.

Your muscles are going weaker by the second but he picks up on your attempts. Joel was incredibly tuned into you. As if he needed another reason to be so attractive.  

“Where, baby?” He slows his pace but just slightly. He urges you to reply by placing one of his hands on the side of your face and holding you up to look at him. You can tell from his tone that he is on the brink. 

“In… inside.” You manage to get it out. You catch the way the corner of his mouth pulls up slightly while his eyes narrow over his nose. It was exactly what he was hoping to hear. He thumbs over your jawline and then brings his hand back down to your hips. 

Joel grunts loud as he thrusts into you while he pulls you down on him. Rough and violent in his movements. His cock kisses your deepest parts and you scream out his name and claw into him. His moan sends you over the edge and your muscles convulse as your release escapes you.

He can feel your walls choking his cock while you come. It sets his own climax in motion and he loses control, bucking into you frantically while he snarls. You can feel his hot ropes of come fill you as his cock pulses. He thrusts up into you with a labored exhale as he empties himself inside you. 

Having him fill you with his spend feels so cathartic. For both of you, you imagine, judging by his calmer demeanor. You share a peaceful moment together entangled and panting. Hot and sticky sweat beading between your bodies. The smell of sex and burning wood.  

He presses his forehead into yours and leads you down gently back onto the mattress. His come leaks out of you as he pulls out with a groan. He was already taking up any available space before he poured into you. You mourn its loss as it drips out of your cunt.  

He presses a kiss to your forehead and drops to his side, next to you. His arm drapes over your midsection and he turns you on your side. He pulls you close so your back is flush against the front of his body. His wet and softening cock nestles at the curve of your ass. 

You can feel his heartbeat with heavy thuds starting to slow. He traces his hand along your side and gently rubs your skin. It makes you shiver. Your sides are sore from being held so tightly but his touch now is soft and gentle. Soothing. 

Joel was intense in bed, but it never made you feel like you were in any sort of danger. He was certainly capable of harming you but you trusted him. He pushed your limits in all the right ways. On the outside he was rough and dominant, but you were starting to see that deep inside he knew how to be gentle too. He had another side of him that he was content to share with you in these moments. 

He made you feel safe. Like he would protect you from anything.

“Joel?” You call for his attention, almost sheepish.

“Mmm?” He mumbles, raspy. From the sounds of it he was nearly passed out.

You roll onto your other side so you are facing him now. His hand snakes over your ass and he rubs you.

“You fuck good for an old man.” 

He bites inside his cheek to hold back a smile and shakes his head. 

“Watch it.” He threatens, but in a joking tone. He pulls your head into his chest and scoffs. You liked teasing him about his age.

You smile to yourself and bury your face in his chest as he holds you tighter. 

You wake up to the sound of heavy boots clunking on the wood floor. You slowly blink your eyes open and then jolt up when you realize you are not at home. You look to your right and the spot on the bed is empty with blankets haphazardly tossed aside. You are in an unfamiliar bed, naked and your body is sore. 

Your brain slowly wakes up as you remember Joel inviting you over late last night. You didn’t mean to fall asleep in his bed. He had fucked you silly and it is not at all surprising that you slept like a baby. He wore out your body and the last thing you remember was being held by him and listening to his rhythmic breath as you dozed off together.  

Your eyes searched the room for your clothes but half of them were still out by the front door. 

You see his olive green and orange plaid flannel draped over his dresser. You snatch it and put it on. It floats on you but feels so soft and comforting. The arms are so much longer and it hangs over you frumpy. It smells worn but you like being in his stink. You button just a few to hold it on you. It barely covers your ass but it does a good enough job. 

You push the bedroom door open and wince as you see the sun is just peaking through the treeline. A stark contrast to the room you woke up in. The reflection on the ice covered lake is bright and blinding. After your eyes adjust you can really take in what a beautiful morning it is. 

“Morning.” Joel greets you. He is standing over in the kitchen holding a coffee carafe and pouring it into his thermos. “Didn’t mean to wake you.” 

He looked so handsome. Fresh with his hair wet and slicked back. He cleaned up well and looked like an entirely different man from the night before. More put together anyways. More peaceful too. It reminded you of the first morning you met him. 

He was dressed for work and had on a few layers from head to toe. It made you feel foolish to still be so exposed. He did not seem to mind one bit.

He looks you up and down and he bites his lip while he tilts his head slightly and stares. 

“Mmm. Like you in my shirt.” He almost growls it at you.

You smile shyly and stand across from him at the island.

“I like it too. I might have to keep it.” You tease.  

You notice a coffee mug already prepared next to him.  His big hand claws it on the top and he slides it over towards you.

“Figured you’d want this.” 

“I sure do.” You pick up the mug with both hands and breathe in the sweet aroma. He had apparently paid attention enough to know that you like your coffee with cream and sugar. Another bonus point for attentiveness.     

“I got an early job today and I have to go. Stay as long as you need.” His offer was generous.

He twists the lid onto his thermos and grabs a bag with some tools and blueprints. He slings it over his shoulder and walks around the other side to stand next to you. 

He reaches his free hand out and gently pushes your messy hair behind your ear. He slowly drags his hand to your jaw and tenderly caresses you with his thumb. 

“See you later, sweetheart.” You melt inside. 

And then he was gone. 

You collect your things and quickly dress yourself properly. Your daily work alarm goes off on your phone while you are lacing up your boots. Just enough time to go home and shower and get ready for work. 

As you are about to head out a devious thought compels you to snatch the flannel. He won’t even miss it. He has plenty. 

As you close the door behind you you take a deep breath. The sun is warm on your face and the air is crisp and refreshing. Your senses are invigorated and your energy is bright and vibrant. The realization hits you as you start across the street. 

You are falling hard for Joel Miller. 

Part 4!

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[buckyalpine]

Practice

18+ 

Dark-ish Mob bucky barnes x virgin maid reader 

Warnings: Dub con, manipulation but make it sexy, possessiveness, jealously, SMUT, innocence kink, virginity taking, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, lactation kink, Dom Bucky and the tiniest appearance of sub Bucky. a smidgen of fluff? 

What have I done. Reader is very innocent, Bucky is a menace. A MENACE. (he really does like you though) This is so filthy, I’m sorry. So much pent up nastiness. Just filth right through. A lil fucked up. Just a lil. or a lot depending on your limits, the ending is meant to be happy okay? 

-

Bucky’s eyes were locked on you, watching you quietly dust a few shelves, the hem of your skirt riding up as you reached for a vase that rested on top of it. He had to adjust himself as you bent over to put away some books on the bottom of the shelf. Your sweet innocent cotton panties were on full display; the tiny maid dress did nothing to cover any of your modesty. 

Fuck, he loved that uniform. 

He cocked his head, as you nervously lingered around his office for a second longer instead of leaving immediately as you usually did. You carefully approached his desk, clinging onto your duster for dear life while Bucky sat back in his chair, simply nodding for you speak. 

“I-May I have the night off, sir?” You kept your eyes trained on your feet, not daring look up at him while he smirked to himself, enjoying how you bit your lip, fingers gripping the duster, anxiously waiting for his answer. 

Always so polite. 

“Hm, what for?” 

What did his pretty maid have to do, that was so important. 

“I-I have a date” You squeaked out, swallowing thickly as your mob moss wordlessly stared at you. 

Oh. 

“I see” His jaw clenched slightly, “with who” You blinked, picking up on the coldness of Bucky’s voice, shifting on your feet, now wishing you hadn’t said anything. 

“Um-John, sir” 

“Walker?” You nodded, while Bucky continued to glare at you, softening his gaze again. “Innocent thing like you...” He cocked an eyebrow, eyes raking up and down your body, “You think you’ll please him?” 

“P-please him?” You whispered, while Bucky smirked, making you more flustered. "I don’t understand, Mr. Barnes”

“I’m sure he’ll be expecting a lot kotenok, especially at the end of your night” 

“What will he expect?” Your voice was hardly a whisper, swallowing thickly at the way your stomach clenched over the pet name he had for you. You were genuinely confused over what he was referring to. 

“I’m sure he’ll want those pretty lips all over him princess” 

“Like kissing?” You asked innocently while Bucky let out a dark chuckle, shaking his head. 

“No doll, he’ll want more than that” 

“I’ve never done anything before” You look at him with doe eyes, meeting Bucky’s lust hungry ones, his length straining against the fabric of his pants. 

“Anything?” his cock grew harder, unable to contain the way he was throbbing, “You’re a virgin?” His cock started to leak the second you nodded. 

His innocent little doll, as sweet as she looked. 

No one had ever touched you before. 

No one else ever would. 

Your heart started to beat faster, feeling stickiness dampen your panties. Why did that always happen when you were near him. You glanced at the clock, realizing it’d be time for you to get ready soon. 

“May I go sir?” 

“You should practice then, hm?” He ignored your question, eyes boring into you, watching the way you squeezed your thighs together. “You wouldn't want to disappoint him”

You shook your head, you would never want to disappoint your date, you were surprised he even took an interest in you. Still, you weren’t sure...Bucky noted your hesitation, beckoning you to come closer, his legs spread while you stood in front of his chair.

“I-but John...” you couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy, wondering if it would be right to do anything with Bucky when someone else had asked you out.

“It’s okay princess, I can help you” His voice was soft, pulling your hand to stand between his legs “You’re not doing anything wrong, I just want you to feel comfortable when you go out with him” 

You nodded, feeling a little better while Bucky adjusted himself, his hand brushing over his boner. 

“You can practice on me, okay?” You felt the ache between your legs grow stronger, seeing his erection on full display, his cock nearly bursting out of his pants. “I’ll tell you what to do honey, don’t worry” 

Bucky undid the button of his pants, unzipping them, and tugging them down slightly, pulling his cock out of his briefs, stroking himself.

“Come here baby, get on your knees for me” 

You hesitantly kneeled in front of him, his thick dripping cock, inches away from your face, pearls of precum endlessly beading from the head of his swollen length. 

“You’ve never touched a cock, have you” He smirked when you shook your head, taking your hand in his and wrapping it around him. “I’ll show you how to stroke it” His fist wrapped around yours, his calloused rough hands were a stark difference compared to your smaller soft ones. “You feel how hard I am for you sweets? m’sure his cock will be nice and hard for you too” There was a slight taunt in his voice, never, he’d never let these perfect hands touch another man. 

He groaned at the feeling of how your skin felt, jerking his cock, guiding you to go up and down his length, from the base to the top, avoiding the tip on purpose. 

“It’s so sensitive here baby” He guided your hand to wrap around the tip of his cock, taking your thumb and brushing it over his slit. He hissed, feeling your soft fingers, moving moving you to massage the tip of his cock “Wrap your hand around and twist it when you touch me there, it feels so good” He let go of your hand, watching you do exactly what he showed you. 

“Good girl, doing such a good job princess” You preened at his praise, focused on quick long strokes from the base, squeezing gently around the head. “You learn fast, huh baby?” 

“Thank you sir” You whispered, your breath hitching when he ran his fingers through your hair. 

“You want to practice how to suck a cock kotenok?” You blinked, leaning closer between his legs while he tugged his pants down further to spread his thighs apart more. Your stomach flipped at his soft scent, his length slick with his arousal. He held his cock to your lips, gently bringing you closer. “Don’t be scared doll, it’s just me. You’re practicing remember?” 

You nodded, remembering Bucky wasn’t going to judge you though you couldn't help but feel nervous. 

“Taste me first sweet heart” Bucky bit his lip, hearing the softest moan slip past your lips when you swiped your tongue across the tip, licking off his precum. “See how wet you make my cock doll, that’s what happens when you’re doing such a good job, its gets so leaky” 

“Give me your hand sweets” He tugged your hand to push them between his legs, his heavy sack sitting in your palm “You feel how heavy they are baby, so full of cum. Rub them doll, just like that baby, play with them in those pretty hands” You were careful, your hands softly touching him, not wanting to hurt him accidently. Bucky nearly came on the spot, the vein on the side of his cock pulsing. 

“Ready princess?” He brought his length to your mouth, loving the way you hesitantly parted your lips slightly, letting him push just the tip. “Use that soft tongue baby, suckle on it, like you’re drinking from me, nurse on my cock baby, such a good girl, perfect warm wet mouth”

Bucky couldn’t help but lean back in his chair, admiring the way your mouth felt, your lips wrapped around the tip, sucking softly while your tongue swiped around the head.  

“Swirl your tongue around, that’s it, give me your other hand” He helped you jerk his cock while you continued to suck him, your other hand still toying with his balls, loving how warm and soft his skin felt. 

“Tug them baby, harder, tug my balls” Bucky groaned, feeling you squeeze them, “Wrap your hand tighter around my dick, c’mon princess, jerk me nice and hard while you suck” 

“Am I doing okay?” Your lips were swollen, glistening with his arousal, pulling off his cock with a pop, hoping you were making him feel good and not wasting his time. 

“You’re doing perfect princess, you ready to try something else now?” 

“Yes, sir” 

“Take a nice deep breath through your nose, you’re gonna take my whole cock in your mouth” You did as you were told as he guided your head to take his full length, making you gag as soon as his tip nudged down your throat. “There we go, here, hold onto me baby, that’ll make it easier” 

Your hands moved to grasp his thighs, your nails digging into his skin, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes. He groaned at the sting of your nails, the prickles of pain getting him off more. He pushed his cock in deeper, moaning when your nails dug into his skin, nearly breaking it.  

“Look at what a good job you’re going baby, got my cock so hard for you-fuck-” His teeth were gritted, rocking his hips off the chair, fucking your face. He grasped the back of your head, moving it up and down, his balls tightening, cum ready to blow from his cock.  “That’s it, that’s it, doing so good kotenok, don’t stop” 

“Be a good girl and suck my cock, there we go pretty girl” He couldn't hold off any longer, all his muscles tensed, his orgasm aching at the base of his cock. 

“FUCK” His movements stilled, spilling into your mouth with his warm cum, your tongue and throat coated with his seed. You didn’t think twice, swallowing every drop, pulling off his cock, letting his soaked softening length slap against his skin. He hissed, tucking his cock back in, buttoning his pants while you licked his salty heady taste off your lips. 

“Did you swallow princess” His thumb brushed your cheek, wondering why you didn’t hurry off to spit, the content dazed look on your face making his already sensitive dick twitch again. You nodded shyly, while Bucky groaned, grabbing you and smashing his lips onto yours, tasting himself on you. You whimpered against his lips, nervous with how your arousal had dripped onto your thighs, nothing made the ache go away. 

“What is it printsessa?” He smirked, his nose trailing up the column of your neck. You let out a shuddered breath, feeling his lips brush your skin. 

“I-I feel-” Your words were breathless, too shy to tell him your panties were soaked, the throbbing and aching between your legs was getting worse.

“Do you need something doll?” He cooed, pulling you up to your feet, and grasping your hips to straddle his thigh. You whimpered, feeling his thigh flex under you, the material of your panties rubbing your clit. You could feel your pussy throb, it was too much and not enough at the same time, you knew you needed something, more. 

“I need...” Your voice trailed off, your body stiff, holding yourself back form rubbing yourself on him to relieve the throbbing. 

“What do you need baby, did sucking my cock get your pussy all tingly and needy” His eyes were blown with lust, cupping your cheek, his thumb tugging down your lower lip. “It’s normal princess, you want me to make that feeling go away?” He whispered, smirking against your skin when you whined, your fingers digging into his shirt. 

“You don’t want to go on your date like this, huh doll, you want me to help you?” You nodded, burying your face in his neck, moaning when he firmly held your hips, guiding you to grind and rub yourself on his thigh. “That’s it, we’ll make that achy feeling go away baby” He moved you to press on him harder, ignoring the way his cock was hard again, feeling your slick dampen his pants. 

“How does that feel doll” 

“Feels-it feels good” You whimpered, panting against his skin, your body felt like it was on fire, you had never felt this much pleasure in your life and he wasn’t even touching you. You could feel yourself climb higher and higher, all the pent up pleasure looking for a way to release

“I-I’m-I-Sir, it feels good, it-I need more-” You cried out, while Bucky growled, rocking you back and forth faster; he could feel your body tense, the scent of your sweet arousal growing stronger. 

“You gonna cum baby? Is that little clit throbbing, you’re soaking me princess, let go, cum for me, be a good girl and cum” His words threw you off the edge, your nails digging into his shoulders, grinding on him, squeezing your thighs around his, moaning into his neck. Pleasure and warmth washed over you in waves, your body convulsing while Bucky held you close. 

“Feel better sweets?” He rubbed your back while you clung onto him, feeling limp, your mind was hazy, not wanting to leave his arms-

Wait-

No.

John. 

Your date. 

“Better” Your voice was small, standing on shaky legs as he helped you off his lap. You gasped when he held you in place, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. 

“Let’s see how you taste baby, let me show you how he should clean you up after”  He tugged your panties off, running a finger through your folds, gathering your slick and licking it clean, his eyes rolling back at the taste of your arousal.  As much as he wanted to bury his face in your needy cunt, that would have to wait until he had you spread on his bed. “Don’t let him waste a drop baby, it’s not nice to leave such a pretty doll soaked and messy after making her cum” He dipped his fingers back, gathering whatever you had to offer, greedily tasting you as if you were the sweetest taste in the world. 

“You taste perfect babydoll, go get ready so you’re not late” You were so flustered you didn’t notice him tuck your panties away in his pocket. “You remember everything I showed you, hm? How to use that pretty tongue, how to get a cock, nice hard and wet” He cooed, still not letting you go. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, some part of your body screaming to stay and practice more, you wanted to be a good girl and learn everything-

no. 

“We can practice more later baby, don’t worry” Bucky let go of your hand while you quickly ran off to your room to get ready “Enjoy yourself doll” Bucky smirked, digging into his pocket, puling his phone out. 

****

“What happened sweets” Bucky hid the smile on his face with concern seeing you in your perfect dress, still in your room, far past your date time. 

“He cancelled” You sat quietly at the edge of your bed, looking at your phone, the last message from him stating he wasn’t interesting in seeing you. It stung. He was the one that chased after you and you had bothered to spend time getting ready for him just to drop everything at the last minute. 

“I’m sorry princess, get some rest, you can have the morning off” He softly closed your door, smiling to himself,  sending Steve a quick thank you before going to his room. 

No one else would ever have you. 

Every since you had practiced with Bucky once, he had insisted you keep practicing so you wouldn't forget anything, always reminding you all this was just between you two and giving you new ways to toy with his cock using your mouth. Of course you didn’t mind, desperate to learn from him, let him teach you. You had gone back to him nearly every single night, craving his bittersweet taste on your tongue and humping and rubbing yourself to satisfaction right after. 

“I think we should try something else today” You gasped, as Bucky lifted you to wrap your legs around his waist; you’d just came all over his thigh, it was part of your nightly routine at this point. “Let me show you more princess” He stood up from his office chair with you wrapped around him, taking you to his room. He set you down on his bed, the large mattress firm with warm soft sheets. 

“Has anyone seen you naked before?” He knew the answer. And yet he loved being reminded that only his eyes got to see your nude body, “Don’t be shy baby, I won’t tell anyone I saw you like this. Take your clothes off” He whispered, nearly drooling as you took your uniform off with shaky hands, letting the dress pool around your ankles. “Here, let me help you” 

Your heart raced as he laid you down on his pillows, his hand snaking behind you back to unclasp your bra, throwing it somewhere across his room. He tugged your panties down, a string of your arousal still clinging to them. He willed himself not to bury his face into your soaked panties, and rub them all over his cock when he already had you spread out for him. 

“You have such a pretty pussy baby” He murmured, his eyes locked on your soaked swollen clit, already sensitive from your orgasm minutes ago. “So gorgeous” 

“It-it is?” You whispered, your face heating up, squeaking when he nipped your inner thigh, soothing the area again with his tongue. 

“It’s perfect princess” You could feel his warm breath against your folds, your thighs trembling to squeeze shut feeling exposed but he held your legs apart. He could see your needy entrance clenching, your clit throbbing but you were to shy to say anything, not even sure what to ask for. “You’re dripping, tell me what you want” 

You shook your head, biting your lip while he continued to tease your inner thighs, hoping he’d know what to do. 

“You want me to touch you here?” He kissed your folds, making you whimper but it wasn’t enough. “Maybe here?” He moved up further, dragging his tongue through your slick making you moan loudly, god he was so close, just a little- 

“Is it this baby” He flicked his tongue on your clit making you cry out, gripping onto his sheets. “Your sensitive little bud needs attention?” You nodded, your jaw slack when he started to lick and suck, gazing up at you from between your legs. 

“It’s-it’s so sensitive I-” You withered on the bed, it felt good, almost too good, his tongue and lips working magic, toying with your cunt. 

“I know baby, gotta get you used to the feeling, huh? I’ll take care of you sweets, make it easier for you, you’ll let me kiss this pretty clit everyday? Make it all better?” He let out a dark chuckle when you nodded, latching back onto your clit. He ate you out until you came all over his face, wasting no time to strip all his clothes off right after. 

“Gonna stretch you baby, you’ve never had a cock inside you before, let me show you how it feels?”

“Will it hurt sir?” You whispered, nervous while he stroked himself above you, you’d taken him in your mouth just fine but getting him inside you....

“Call me daddy” 

“Will-will it hurt daddy?”

“Daddy’s gonna go slow, okay?”

You nodded, spreading your legs open further for him, gasping when you felt his cockhead rub through your folds. 

“You like when I rub my cock on you?” 

“Feels good daddy” Your shaky hands came to grip onto his arms, nervous when he started to press the tip against your entrance.

“Breathe, breathe for daddy, gonna make you feel good sweet girl” He whispered, as he started to push his cock inside you, cooing and kissing you softly while you cried out, digging your nails into his skin from the stretch and sting. 

“Daddy, its too much!” 

“Shhhh, it’s because its your first time, open up for me kotenok” 

You whimpered under him, wrapping your legs and arms around his body, trying to find a way to ground yourself.  

“Gonna go slow baby, I know, your pussy is so tight, you need a fat cock to stretch you baby, trust me okay?”  As soon as he was fully sheathed inside you, he was more feral then ever. He kissed your temple as he started to rock his hips, struggling to keep his pace slow and gentle. 

No one else could have you. 

He was going to make you his one way or another. 

His cock nearly burst each time you cried out for him, the more you moaned the more he wanted you to be his. He didn’t want you to ever think about going out on a date with another man, not when you already had him. 

“You look so pretty wrapped around my cock malyshka“ 

There was one way he could keep you. His balls tightened against his body at the thought’, it was perfect. 

“M’gonna make you a mommy, m’gonna be your daddy, gonna get you nice and pregnant, keep you all just for me baby” 

“Daddy!” Your eyes shot open, your pussy clenching at his words, you sounded like a porn star when he started to pound into you faster. 

“I am your fuckin’ daddy. You’re all mine, m’the only man who’ll ever fucking touch you, touch this sweet pussy, taste it, fuck it, make love to it, you’re mine princess. You’re. Fucking. Mine” He pulled his cock out, flipping you over and shoving your face into the mattress. He slammed his cock back in, grunting, jack hammering his cock into you, loving the way you made a white creamy mess on his dick. 

Sweet baby was probably ovulating. Perfect. 

You cried out in pleasure, gripping onto his sheets as he railed you from behind, his hips snapping against your skin, fingers digging into your hips. Your mind was still reeling from his words, your mind racing. Some part of your body was screaming for him to fill you up but-

“Ready baby? Ready for daddy’s babies?” He growled, continuing to thrust into you as you collapsed onto the bed, feeling him even deeper at this angle. He brought his knees up slightly to position himself better, rutting and fucking you, keeping his cock deep inside you. 

“I-I can’t get pregnant now daddy” You whimpered, while he pulled out to let you lie down again, shoving his cock right back in. 

“Why not princess”  He continued to thrust into you, gently cupping your cheek, the blue in his eyes nearly non existent.

“I-m’not ready yet, can’t daddy” You shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks, fuck you wanted this so bad but you still didn’t even have your own place, worried about money you had saved up-Bucky could see your mind racing over mundane issues. 

“Do you trust daddy angel?” You nodded sniffling, still moaning softly as he started to rock his hips faster again “I’ll take care of you malyshka, you don’t have to worry about anything” You felt conflicted but it didn’t matter, not when he was buried so deep in your warmth, his soft lips kissing you all over between sweet words. 

“You’re gonna live with me all the time, okay? M’gonna get you pregnant baby, you’re gonna be all mine. Wanna get you pregnant so badly princess, please? Just let me put a baby in you, I’ll take care of you so well, please pretty girl. Tell me you’re ready baby, tell me you want me babies”

“I-I want your babies daddy!” You moaned out, your body moved on its own, wrapping around him, your cunt clenching and fluttering, screaming for his cum. “Wan’ you to get me pregnant!”   

“FUCK Keep saying it baby, say you want my babies”

“I want daddy’s babies” 

“AGAIN” He snarled against your neck, your sweet begging making his cock swell and throb. He started to fuck you as hard as he could, chasing his high, desperate to knock you up. He’d fuck you as many times as he had to until it took. 

“FUCK Daddy PLEASE” 

“Gonna put my babies in you, can’t wait to see you pregnant baby, you’re gonna look so beautiful, so fucking full of me, you’re mine-fucking hell- you’re mine” 

“All yours!” You cried out, cumming and gushing all over his cock, your head thrown back on his pillows. Bucky roared against your neck, his hips stilling, pouring loads of his seed into your soaked cunt. It didn’t matter how many rounds it took. He was going to keep going until he saw your belly swell. 

A few months later 

“Y/n” You could hear him call you from the bedroom, huffing as you clambered off the couch, making your way upstairs. You were in nothing but one of his shirts, some of the buttons at the bottom undone to make room for your tummy. Bucky groaned as soon as you stepped into the room, he’d seen you like that plenty of times and yet still....

If it weren’t for possible prying eyes and other house keepers, he would have forbade you from wearing clothes at all. You waddled into his room, your growing belly protruding from under his shirt your pouty face just made him more feral than ever, every single primal urge desperate to take over. 

“Daddy’s hungry” He beckoned you to, setting his book down, biting his lip, pulling you to straddle his lap. He threw your top over your head leaving you bare except for your panties. 

“You’re gonna feed our baby so well” Bucky groaned, looking at your swelling breasts, your nipples pebbled and aching. 

“It’s sore” you whined when he traced over them, your body sensitive to the slightest touches. “Hurts, feels too heavy” 

“Maybe you should let me help you mama, practice now for when our little one comes. Get used to the feeling” He dipped his head down, taking a nipple into his mouth, suckling, groaning when he felt your sweet warmth start to flow. 

“You taste so good, sweetest milk ever baby” He greedily drank more from you, moaning and slurping every drop as if he had been starved. “Feeding daddy do good” He moaned, his hands rubbing over your swollen belly, you were so perfectly full of him, he wasn’t going to waste a second to get you pregnant again as soon as your little one was born. 

“You can’t drink this much after our baby is born James” 

James. Every since you had started calling him by his first name, Bucky didn’t know what to do with himself, it made his cock jump. 

“You gonna feed daddy too angel” He latched onto your other breast, continuing to suckle. “Because I get so hungry for you baby, n’you take care of me so well” 

You couldn't help but moan at his words, you loved how filthy and debauched he got for you. 

“You gonna let me drink from you whenever I want baby? Even when your sleeping? No more sleep shirts mama, wanna be able to drink your milk whenever I want” You were so lost in his filthy world, you didn’t notice he’d pulled his cock out, stroking himself while latched onto you. “Don’t care if your sleeping, wanna drink mommy’s warm milk whenever I want” 

Your pussy clenched around nothing, there was something about how desperate he was that that made you feel just as needy. 

“You want my milk baby?” You cooed, your eyes growing wide when you noticed he had his cock out, pink and leaking. 

“Want it bad baby” He pulled your panties to the side, bringing you down to warm his cock, while he continued to lap at you, there was no way he was going to ever leave you alone, he had to keep you pregnant forever. “Feed me like I’m your baby” 

Your hand’s naturally went to cradle his head to your breast, stroking his hair while he held you close, your firm tummy pressed against him, keeping his cock wet and warm. You cooed, stroking his cheeks, kissing his forehead, you’d do anything he asked, you loved being good for him. He hummed with approval, he loved when you practiced new things with him, his pretty sweet pregnant doll. 

“You learn so fast mama” 

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[skzdarlings]

07. sharing a bed series ; skz ; seungmin

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 7/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. sassy bad girl reader, sassy good boy seungmin. handcuffed together trope. sex toys, blow jobs, strap-on blow jobs, handjobs, dick piercings, fake sex. lots of bickering, lots of moaning, lots of evil smirking hehe.

-

It takes about ten minutes to get through the doorway because neither you or Seungmin will concede ground.  With your right hand handcuffed to his left hand, your shoulder-to-shoulder breadth is too big for the doorframe. 

After some arguing, you face each other.  You are glaring the entire time but you manage to force your way into the bedroom. 

You can’t change clothes with the handcuffs so you head straight for the bed where you proceed to stumble around clumsily.  With some cussing and your failed attempt to put him in a headlock, you and Seungmin manage to get in bed. 

You lay on your backs with your handcuffed hands between you.

There is a minute of silence.   Everyone else went to bed hours ago so the vacation house is silent.   It’s just you and the most annoying man on earth, forcibly handcuffed together, stuck in the same bed.    

“My life is a joke,” you say. 

“Yeah,” Seungmin says.  “Your life is a joke.  Ow!”

He slaps your hand when you pinch his thigh and you smack his chin only for him to chomp at your fingers.  You both roll your eyes and look away from each other for all of ten seconds, then you glare at him and he gives you a judgemental stare. 

“How are you going to sleep like that?” he asks. 

You raise your joined hands, the chain jingling.   

“Wow, Seungmin, whatever do you mean?” you say dryly.     

“Wow, Seungmin, meh-meh-beh-beh,” he mocks your tone then uses his free hand to smack your arm.  It makes a crinkling sound when it collides with the leather jacket you can’t remove.  “I’m talking about the skinned cow on the cow.”

“Funny.”

“The skinned cow is the leather jacket.”

“I know that.”

“And you’re the other cow.”

“I got it, Seungmin.”

“Just checking,” he says with that blithe, shit-eating grin of his. “You’re just not very smart so I wanted to be nice and check.”   

This fucking guy.  

Kim Seungmin is the mouthiest smartass you have ever met.  A friend of your friends, the acquaintanceship has been forced on you for the sake of the overall friend group.   You two are like oil and water, completely incompatible in every way.  You are the denim-and-leather bad girl and he is the blazer-and-tie good boy.  Equally sassy, but astronomically apart in lifestyle.   You clashed from your first introduction. 

You can usually manage an hour or two of civility, especially if you stay out of each other’s way, but this vacation has pushed that strained dynamic to its breaking point. 

Changbin’s family owns a vacation house near a ski resort so your whole friend group is spending the winter holidays at the luxury cabin.  This means you and Seungmin have been forced to interact for much longer than a few hours. 

You expected some annoyance but Seungmin is an even bigger brat than you remembered.  You have already spent three days at each other’s throats.  Tonight you went to a party at the resort and the few hours away from him did wonders, but it only took one stupid remark for you start fighting all over again. 

You didn’t even have time to remove your boots or jacket.  With Seungmin, it was on sight. 

Fed-up, Minho leapt off the couch and disappeared into his bedroom.  The others were just groaning or slouched in their seats, shaking their heads at you and Seungmin.   You couldn’t stop if you wanted to, every dry remark needing a comeback, every insult escalating. 

Then Minho returned.  He yanked Seungmin out of his seat and practically threw him at you.   You should have let his stupid face hit the ground but your reflexes kicked in and you caught him in his flail.  There were a few seconds of confusion before Minho clasped the handcuffs around you.   The whole room went silent, you and Seungmin staring at the cuffs then looking at Minho. 

Minho dangled the keys in your face.  

“I will let you out of the handcuffs,” he spoke as if speaking to particularly stupid children, “when you overcome your differences and decide to stop ruining the holiday.”

You and Seungmin both sputtered in protest, but neither of you were brave enough to physically fight Minho for the keys.  That kitty has claws, mean ones.  Not even you mess with Lee Minho. 

Now you and Seungmin are stuck sharing a bed.  You are still fully dressed, in jeans, shirt, and leather jacket, whereas he was already dressed down in pyjama pants and a t-shirt.  All he has to do is remove his glasses and he’s fine to sleep. 

You, however, are dressed for a whole different kind of evening.

“Trust me,” you say with an aggrieved sigh, “the jacket is not the most uncomfortable thing I’m wearing.”

He pinches his glasses at the stem, wiggling them up-and-down like it will help him see better. 

“What do you mean?” he asks.  “Wait, you’re a freak, right?  Is it something kinky?”

He asks it mockingly but you smile and turn your face to him, lifting an eyebrow.  You get some satisfaction from the way his face contorts with realization.

“Wait, really?” he asks.  “What the hell.  Why?  What is it?”

“You sound curious.” 

You really can’t help but tease him, anticipating he will snap back with equal verve.  You are surprised when his remark gets tangled on his tongue, his mouth open with no reply.  The tips of his ears are faintly red. 

“Oh, you are curious,” you say.

“Gross, no way.”  He comes back to himself and scrunches his whole face with revulsion.  “Keep it to yourself.  Pervert.”

“Proudly.”

“Wow.”

You feel satisfied with the silence that follows, feeling like you finally won a conversation and sent him into a mute stupor.  But then he looks at you and you brace yourself for the incoming wave of irritation. 

“It’s not gonna suddenly go off or something, is it?” he asks.  “I don’t want to wake up to you thrashing around like a fish on a boat deck.”

“It’s a hard packer.  You know, a strap-on for wearing out?  A ready-to-go, signed-sealed-and-delivered dick?”  You list everything with the same pleasant smile.  “Big one too.” 

His face is perpetually frozen in a state of prepared ridicule so he still looks marginally judgemental, but more confused than repulsed. 

“Right now?” he says.  His eyes drift down to your jeans.  “You wore… you wore it out?”

“Brave new world, Seungminnie,” you say, the nickname making his eye twitch despite the sarcasm in it. 

“You’re lying,” he says.  He doesn’t wait for you to argue; he reaches with his cuffed hand to feel for extra weight between your legs.  It drags your own hand along with it, too surprised to react fast enough to stop him.  He finds what he was looking for, his brow furrowing when he closes his fist over the hard bulge under your fly.   “Whoa, wait, seriously?” 

“Dude!”  You pry his hand off, though he doesn’t go without a fight, patting it like it’s puppy.  “What the hell, man.  You can’t just grab someone’s dick like that.”

“Why not? It’s not real.”

“It is in a way!  I can still feel it!”

“You can?”  He pokes it.    

“Yes.” You swat him away.   “Depending on position.”     

“And you wore it to the party?” he says, then whistles low and shakes his head.  “Wow.  You have a high opinion of yourself.  Thought you were gonna get lucky?” 

“I did very well for myself, thanks.”

He holds up your cuffed hands with a sarcastic look of his own. 

“Not that well,” he says.  “Or you wouldn’t be here.” 

“I don’t tend to stay the night,” you say. 

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em,” he says.  “I should have known.”  He sighs as if disappointed in you. 

You barely register his retort, your brain jumping ahead a few paces.  

Walking around with ready-to-play silicone in your pants does have a tendency to leave you teetering on the side of horny, so maybe that’s why your brain is incapable of supplying another type of plan, but a plan begins to form nonetheless.

“I have an idea,” you say. 

“Breaking your wrist so you can slide out of the handcuffs?”

“Kim Seungmin, I’ll let you know that while I might have one hand out of commission, I am still capable of shoving your slipper in your mouth.” 

“Kim Seungmin, meh-meh-meh, beh-beh-beh.”

“Why do I even bother?”  You sigh.  “Do you wanna get out of these handcuffs or not?”

“Fine.”  He fiddles with his glasses and glares at you.  “I’m going to regret asking this, but what’s your idea?”

You sit up and nod your head towards the wall behind the headboard. 

“Minho’s room is on the other side of this wall, isn’t it?”  you ask.   

“Yes,” he replies, warily.  “Why?”

“Let’s pretend to have noisy sex.”

“What!”  He sits upright too, the cuffs jingling again.

“We can bang the headboard against the wall,” you add.

“What the hell is that supposed to accomplish, you idiot?”

“Two things,” you say.  “One: that we have clearly resolved our differences through the release of sexual tension.  And two: if we are exceptionally noisy about it, it will piss him off enough to want to separate us again.” 

“That is a terrible plan,” he says, which is not a rejection.  “Besides there’s no sexual tension between us.  There’s no way he’d believe it.”

“Well then,” you say, leaning closer to his face, “you better put on a believable performance to make up for it, hm?” 

You expected him to lean back but he didn’t move, so you find yourself nose-to-nose and locked in a staring contest.  It is so quiet that you can hear every intake of breath.   His gaze goes from your eyes to your lap and back again, jaw clenching.

“Fine,” he says.  “I’m only willing to try because I’d rather chew off my hand than spend the night with you—”

“I mean, you can try that too,” you say. 

“Shut up.”  He grabs the collar of your jacket and jerks you around.  “Just get down.”

“Uh, get down?” You push when you realize he is trying to wrestle you onto your back.  You lift your joined hands off the bed so he loses his balance.  “You get down. I’m on top.”

“Can you relax?” he says, scrambling back upright.  “We’re not actually having sex, you uptight weirdo.”    

“Yeah, but do you think those skinny arms can push this headboard against the wall?”

“I think these skinny arms can push you off the bed.” 

“I think those skinny arms will find themselves following.” 

You tussle for a good minute, pushing at each other’s faces and tugging each other’s shirts.  Your physical strength overpowers his but he isn’t hindered by a stupid leather jacket.   Already a bit sweaty and exhausted, you surrender with an aggravated huff. 

“Fine, try it then,” you say, flopping on your back.  You stubbornly cross your arms, trapping his cuffed hand in your arm. 

“Let me go,” he says, trying to wrest his arm back. 

“I’m not doing anything.  Ahh, stop that!”

He tires to lick you.  Tongue out, he dives at your head.  He only stops when you snatch his glasses off his face, at which point he climbs on top of you to try and grab them back. 

“Stop it. This is so immature,” he says, stretching to reach your own outstretched arm.

“Immature?” you ask, aghast.  “You were trying to lick me!”

“That was different.”

“How?”  

“Because you suck,” he says. 

He manages to get his glasses back.  He sticks out his tongue as he puts them on his face. 

You tussle a little more, shuffling around and swiping at each other.  Eventually you get to the middle of the bed with him still straddling your hips.  Your cuffed arm lifts when he grips the headboard with both hands.  He strains for one pitiful push.  His hair bounces but the headboard barely hits the wall. 

You lift an eyebrow. 

“Shut up,” he says.

“I didn’t say anything,” you reply.

“I can hear your ugly face.”

“That’s a you problem.”

He ignores you and braces himself to push on the headboard again.  All the beds are extravagantly woodworked pieces, the headboards dense and heavy.  Despite the proximity to the wall, you are not surprised it takes effort to actually make the bed bounce.  

Seungmin, to his credit, does not give up easily.  He braces his shoulders, but this time when he pushes he rocks with his whole body.  

Unfortunately, this does drag almost all his weight against the toy in your pants.  You are wearing the kind of underwear designed to support a toy, the base of it separated from your clit by only a strip of fabric.  When he rocks against you, it grinds there, and your hands instinctively fly to grab his hips.

It knocks him a bit off balance because your cuffed hand drags his down too.  He puts that hand over yours, cupped around his hip, and glares down at you. 

“What the hell was that?” he asks. 

You let go of his hips immediately. 

“Nothing,” you say.

He looks at you with a scrutinizing eye, then looks down, then up again.   You hold his gaze unflinchingly, at least until he rocks again and a little spark of heat goes off inside you. 

“Can you feel that?” he asks.  He asks it matter-of-factly, peering down at you from behind his big round glasses, sitting comfortably in his stupid pyjamas. 

“Yes,” you speak in as steady a voice as you can, because you will not show weakness first.   “There are only a couple positions where I can feel it strongly.  This… is… one of them.” 

“Wow,” he says.  He looks genuinely reflective for a minute, then he grins one of his evil grins.  “So… you can feel when I do this?”  He puts his free hand on the middle of your chest and leans forward so he grinds against you at a different angle, his own bulge pushing against yours. 

“Ohmyff—”  You grab his hips again, freezing him while he snickers above you.  “Dude.” 

“Just checking,” he says.  He grabs the headboard and pushes again.  The thud is a soft one. 

You clench your jaw, annoyed and wound up.  You grab his waist and roll over in one fluid motion, knocking some wind out of him when you thump him on his back.   His thighs clench instinctively to hold onto your hips, his legs still around your waist when you grab the headboard and shove it several times in a row.  

His cuffed arm is above his head, hand dangling under your grip on the headboard.  His glasses are askew from the flip, his legs still open around yours.  He stares at you, however crookedly through the tilted glasses.  Your breathing is heavy in the quiet room.  He swallows.

You break the silence with a pointed, “Well?”

“Well, what?” he asks just as roughly. 

“Moan or yell or something.  Whatever you normally do in bed.”

“I’m normally quiet.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you say dryly.  “Since that mouth never stops.”  

“Why don’t you moan?” 

“Because I’m in charge of bed pushing.”  To make your point, you rock the bed some more, pushing slightly against him with the motion.  The headboard hits the wall for a few rhythmic thumps. 

He fixes his glasses with his free hand, still frowning at you.  That hand freezes on his glasses when you shrug your coat off your free arm, too hot to keep wearing it.  It will only get caught on the handcuffs if you push it down the other arm so you leave it hanging off your shoulder.  You put your hand back on the headboard, muscles flexing with the next shove.   His eyes go to your arm. 

“Well?” you say.  

He looks at you.  It’s a cold, unfeeling stare, followed by an annoyed puff of a breath. 

Then he makes a sound, a small, rough moan in the back of his throat.   You are certain only you can hear it.   He looks right at you while doing it, legs still accommodating your shape, on his back with an open mouth while glaring at you despite the noises.

It is, in a word, hot.  Hot as fucking hell.  Oh god.  You are not getting turned on by Kim Seungmin.  Absolutely not. 

He moans again, closing his eyes and shifting with the next push, as if he can really feel it.   He cants his hips and falls back again.  He moans one more time.

Ah, you think.  Fuck. 

You stop shoving the bed for a second, breathless and not from exertion. 

You clear your throat.  Seungmin is still staring at you.  You stare back, then your gaze drifts.  The leather jacket starts to slip down your shoulder so you tug it back up.  You gulp. 

“You’re hard,” you say, a very basic observation.  His soft pyjama pants leave little to the imagination.

He drops his legs from around your waist, but you are between his thighs so he can’t quite close them.  He plants his feet on the bed and glares up at you. 

“So are you,” he says.

“Mine’s not real,” you say.  

“Ohh, so now it’s not real?”  He rolls his eyes.  “Sorry, I can’t keep up with Schrodinger’s dick.” 

“You know what I mean, smartass.”  

“If anything yours is more real,” he says.  “Your dick is more deliberate than mine.  I can’t control my hard-on but you put one there on purpose.” 

That logic is a weirdly difficult to argue.  You try to think of a witty comeback but your brain is more than a little fried. 

“So,” is all you say, at a loss. 

He stares up at you for another second, then pushes himself upright.  You let his cuffed hand lead yours, at least until you realize he is bringing his hands to the button of your jeans.  You seize his cuffed hand and tug it away. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks contemptuously.  He even snarls. 

Despite the viciousness, he dives in without waiting for an answer.  He uses his free hand as a guide, but otherwise he leans forward and clamps his teeth around the button.  He works it open quickly, then takes the zipper in his mouth and yanks it down. 

You let go of his hand, surprised.  He uses both hands to fish the toy out of your pants. 

He balks at it. 

“You walked around with this all night?” he asks, looking up at you. 

Fuck.  It is literally right by his face.  It looks obscene.  Your figures twitch with the urge to cup his chin. 

“Yes,” you answer in a low voice.  “It’s my preferred method of, uh, action.”

“Action,” he repeats, smiling like the word is a hilarious punchline.  He even cackles a little.  “Action,” he repeats.  “Not ‘making love?’”  His tone is drole. 

“Not really the making love type,” you say. 

“Wow,” he says.  His eyes flick to your toy dick, just millimeters from his face.  He pushes his glasses up his nose.  He glances up at you with that evil smile.   “Same,” he says. 

Then suddenly he has his mouth wrapped around the end of it, looking up at you as he sucks on it. 

For a second, you think you have gone completely insane, because you swear you can feel it.  Your clit and pussy and every other body part rears to life with sudden, unbidden arousal. 

“Jesus fucking—” you start.

He pops off your dick with a wet sound.   He licks his lips. 

“Hmm,” he says, eying it thoughtfully.  “Tastes funny.   Could you feel that?”

“Kinda,” you squeak.  “In a way.”

“Got it.” 

Is this even turning him on?  His dick is filling out his pyjama pants so you think so, but he is also approaching the entire thing like it can be hacked through a scientific algorithm.   He studies the toy with a lot of scrutiny, as if he is calculating the mechanics of it. 

“You don’t have to—” you start, but then suddenly his mouth is back on the end of it, his free hand is in the middle of it, and he is pushing it back against you, clearly having figured out you can feel the part against your clit.  He grinds it there, up and down, bobbing his head and staring up at you. 

It is usually fairly difficult to reach orgasm this way but he takes you the edge in an almost terrifying speed run, then abruptly stops.  He takes in a deep breath, a huge wad of spit connecting his lips to the end of the toy.

“Did that do something?” he asks, wiping his mouth. 

Your jacket slips down your arm and catches on the handcuffs.  You stare at him.

“Uhhh…” you say, voice guttural.  “Yes.” 

He grins, looking immensely satisfied with himself. 

“That wasn’t so hard,” he says.  “I thought it would be more complicated.  I’m guessing gravity works in your favour when someone sits on it?” 

Yes, that is your brain spilling out of your ear in a big, mushy goop. 

“Uh, yeah,” you say.  “Yeah.”  What the fuck else are you supposed to say? 

He suddenly narrows his eyes at you, his regard suspicious even while he starts jerking the toy with his free hand. 

“How do I know you’re not lying?” 

You show him the only way that makes sense, leading his cuffed hand to your pants and nudging the toy aside so he can slip his fingers past it.  He freezes completely when he feels how turned on you are, looking up at you as he returns his now wet fingers to himself. 

“Oh,” he says.  He looks at his fingertips.  “I see.” 

Then he grins at you and puts his fingers in his mouth. 

“Right,” you say.  “Got it.” 

You grab him and put him on his back again, reaching immediately for his waistband.  You have barely grasped the material when you are suddenly shoved back, his foot planted squarely in the middle of your chest. 

“Slippers first,” he says.  

He is just being difficult.  You know that, but you indulge the little brat anyway, glaring at him while removing his stupid slipper.  You toss it behind you and he switches feet, shoving his other one in the same spot.  He smiles at you, leaning back on his elbows at tapping his slippered toes against your heart.   You shake your head but remove that one too.  Before he can try any more funny business, you grab him under the knee and push his knees back to his chest.  His glasses slip a little again.  His cuffed hand can’t leave yours, hooked under his knee, so his free hand awkwardly reaches up to fix them. 

“Careful,” he says, like you’ve been the unreasonable one in any way, shape, or form. 

“I’ll try,” you say dryly, then reach for his waistband. 

You get the material barely shuffled past his hips when your jaw falls open. 

“Hold on,” you say, fingers reaching for his twitching dick.   “No way.  No way.” 

Kim Seungmin.  Blazer-and-tie good boy.  Pristine socialite.   Arrogant snob.   High society darling.   Spoiled brat.  Good boy.  Good boy.   Good boy. 

He has a classically beautiful piercing on the head of his dick. 

He opens his mouth to speak, his expression revealing it is about to be some mouthy retort, but it turns into a gasp when you run your thumb up and over, teasing at it, gathering a not-inconsiderable amount of precum and stroking the whole length of him. 

“Aren’t you pretty,” you say, circling the most sensitive cluster of nerves with your thumb.   It makes his thighs twitch and his shoulders shake. 

“S-surprised?” he asks. 

“Honestly, yeah,” you admit. 

He looks very satisfied with that, grinning at you.  That evil smile drives you crazy so you flash a grin of your own then dive down. 

His fake moans were pretty close to his real ones, but his real ones are louder as you expected.  He has to bite his fist to keep the sound down.  You rise, wiping at your mouth and glaring at him. 

“Louder,” you say.  “Remember?”

“Oh, right.”  He drops his hand.  “Your stupid plan.  Okay.  Continue.”  He waves you onward like a prince, thumping his head back on the pillows. 

He is so annoying.  He really does have a pretty dick, though.  Drawing real moans out of him is more fun than arguing over fake ones, and he makes some exceptionally lovely sounds when you put your mouth on him.  He starts gasping when he gets close, his face scrunching up, but he grabs your head and stops before he gets there fully. 

You look at him with a questioning eyebrow lift but move when he nudges you.  He gets on his knees so you are kneeling in front of each other, then he guides your hand back to his dick at the same time he curls his fingers around the base of your toy.  

Your eyes are heavy-lidded and your mouths are close together but not touching.  It feels like another contest, to see who will give in and kiss the other person first, even while your hands are way past that stage. 

Fuck it, you think when he gets a bit whiny, breathing hard against your lips.  You clasp your free hand around his neck and drag him close for a kiss.  It makes him come, his back locking and mouth opening under yours.  He wouldn’t be Seungmin if he didn’t try and turn a kiss into a fight, licking at you with messy intensity.  The rapid back-and-forth of his tongue coupled with his skilled hand takes you over the edge too. 

You get a bit euphorically giggly when you come, smiling against his mouth. 

Seungmin turns unexpectedly clingy, putting his free arm around your neck and burying his face in your shoulder.  He holds so tightly that you fall, flopping onto the bed with him still nestled against you.  

You lay there for a bit, him still hiding, your heavy breathing slowing to a more normal cadence.  Eventually he lifts his head and exhales.  He adjusts his crooked glasses then grins. 

“I won,” he says.

“You can’t win at sex,” you reply.

“Yes you can, and I just did.  Don’t be a sore loser.”

“Oh my god.” 

Your exchange passes with far less animosity than usual.  You still side-eye each other while dealing with your respective dicks.  It’s a little easier for him to pull up his pants one-handed than it is for you to wrestle a toy out of an O-ring, but you do succeed.  You let it roll off the edge of the bed, watching and listening as it thumps onto the floor. 

You look over Seungmin who was watching too.  When you make eye contact, you both start laughing.  It turns the whole scene into an unusually affectionate one.  Figuring you might as well commit, you hold his cuffed hand in your own.  He rolls closer, eying you with those perpetually mischievous eyes.

Then suddenly the bedroom door flies open.  It smashes into the wall, startling both of you. 

Minho walks up to the bed and chucks the keys at you, glares, then turns and leaves the room.  He slams the door shut behind him. 

You and Seungmin look at each other then down at the keys. 

“Told you,” you say. 

“Don’t rub it in.”

“Don’t be a sore loser.”

He licks your cheek unprompted, then unlocks the cuffs while you complain and wipe your face.  It has you so distracted that you are a second too late realizing he has another dastardly plan in mind. 

Your wrist is still cuffed.  He takes the now empty half and clasps it around one of the intricate loops in the headboard.   You tug on it then look at him. 

“Kim Seungmin,” you say. 

“Kim Seungmin,” he repeats in that mocking voice, grinning as he climbs up over you. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask, trying not to smile at his wicked grin as he starts kissing under your chin and down your chest.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks.  “I’m winning.”

You decide not to argue for once.   It goes without saying you both won this round. 

[skrrts]

baby blue & silly you (oneshot)

✧ afab!reader x choi san ✧ genre: non idol, slice of life, romance, pure fluff ✧ word count: 4k ✧ warnings: pregnancy, mention of being drunk

When San and you quit your jobs to embark on the road trip of your dreams, you didn't anticipate how quickly things would change. After just a few months, future plans suddenly become the present reality. With the realization that there will be three of you in less than seven months, San is now focused on fulfilling another of his wishes: marrying you before your first child is born.

a/n: after some delay, i finally put out another san oneshot. it's semi inspired by a couple i saw on youtube who lived in a van and traveled the states before they got pregnant & san's live the other day how he would gently ruffle his children's hair. there are no major warnings other than pregnancy but there are no medical details, but please be aware for your own comfort. thanks for reading 🫶

San had his arms curled around your waist, his face gently pressed against the side of your stomach while his hand was gently brushing over your belly, that smile which made his face shine so brightly would not go away. In your hands, you carefully turned around the sonogram picture you received from the hospital.

His fingers were drawing soft circles over your belly: “I’m sure it will be a girl. Not that I’d mind a boy! Both will be great but I just have a feeling.”

You couldn’t hold back the chuckle and lowered the photo: “Is that so? You know it’s far too early to say it, you will have to wait at least another two months for that.” 

San looked up to you, gazes met as you reached out to mess with his messy hair. Ever since the two of you had come back from the hospital, you just relaxed in the van like that, your boyfriend insisting you needed to rest. 

The very least outcome you expected to receive was to be told that your stomachache was not caused by the food at the restaurant you two ate at. After checking how poor the reviews were and several guests complaining about food poisoning, you meant to just be sure when the doctor happily told you that you were pregnant. San and you stared at him, asking many times if he was sure and it needed a bit of explaining that your reactions had nothing to do that this was an unwanted child, not at all.

It was simply around five years too early.

Everything between the two of you grew naturally, you took your time dating, to meet all of your friends and family before moving in after one year. San and you did not want to rush through life, instead took all the time and after college degrees, you decided on a dream together: a road trip along the coast, two years without any worries and to be able to do just that, the two of you worked hard, saved up and then sold all of your furniture. The intention was to think of where you’d like to settle down while you travel, then get a small place of your own, marry, and around the time of becoming thirty, have a little family of your own.

It took two people to manage to get pregnant and when you left the hospital to sit down in the van, there was no question just how the baby would arrive five years early. A few months ago, there was this large celebration at a beach you joined in, the ocean at night, fireworks, maybe a drink or two too many, and lots of passion. 

Your road trip only started about half a year ago and it was both, too short and already too far from home. The shock and reality slowly faded into one and all you could do is try and relax because San shifted immediately. He insisted on driving, fluffed up the pillows of your bed, and now, was admiring a stomach that wasn’t telling about the life growing within just yet.

“I think, we should wait a little longer before we tell anyone. I know we are already at the eleventh week but you know. Ah, my mom will just freak out and tell us to get back right away.” 

There was this part of you that did not want to leave this dream just yet, the doctors said you were healthy and as long as you went to your frequent checkups and looked out for your food, it should be fine to go on for another two months. Comfort was another question but that was your first child, you just would pray it would be thoughtful like it’s dad.

“Mhm, I agree. I know that they would support us but worry, also I kind of like it is our little secret just yet and we surprise them with a big photo. People on social media always do those cool things when they tell their parents they will be grandparents soon.” 

San spoke and finally moved up to kiss you, his hand resting against his cheek: “You know how much I love you, Y/N? I know this is not how we imagined it to go but do not worry, I will take care of the both of you.”

You looked at him before chuckling: “Is that so? I feel like I have to look out for an overly excited to-be-dad now.”

You gave him a quick peck on his lips: “I do appreciate how you volunteer to look out for all of my pregnancy needs, mom had some really disgusting food cravings.”

You slowly sat up and San followed, stretching like a cat: “How handy we can bring you right there. Let’s get a few more pillows, yeah? Just so you are more comfortable, but Y/N...”

Suddenly his face turned serious and you turned around, looking at him. “Hm? What is it? What’s with that face`”

Your boyfriend sighed: “If you feel uncomfortable, let me know, any time! I know you feel like we have to push our trip for as long as we can and as much as I’m looking forward our kid gets to experience the world from the start, we can go back any time. You know my parents gladly let us use that little cabin on their property until we figured out where we go from there.”

You leaned over and gently tapped against his nose: “San, one of the reasons why I love you so much is because I know we can talk about anything. I promise you, it will not change, I’ll tell you. We do have some time left to figure out where we want to go. We should adjust our route a little, focus on what we really wanted to see and then, figure out all else.” 

There was a gentle smile on his lips as he nodded and kissed you again: “Okay, let me get dinner ready then! Yes, you will get more rest, even if you tell me you aren’t sick. You were told to take it slow for the rest of the week, so let’s do that!”

Wooyoung made the strangest noises when he was excited and for a moment, San held his phone off his ear. It had been two weeks since you learned about the pregnancy and now it felt like a good time to start planning.

You agreed to wait telling your parents and San intended to keep it that way but there was something else, a surprise you could not know and for that, he was in need for some assistance.

San always intended to propose to you on this trip and then marry by the time you settled again, now he had less than six months for both because the day your child would come into this world, he wanted both of you to wear his name.

“Will I be the godfather? That word is super boring but I am ready to be the favorite uncle! I will babysit for free, like you two will surely want some free evenings and I can come over and look out for her.”

It was funny how he too just seemed to agree the idea of your child to be a girl was natural

“Sh, slow down! That’s not why I called you, idiot,” San laughed but he was happy how his best friend did not judge or ask what happened to their plans, simply embracing his natural excitement. 

“Okay, okay, I am listening. What exactly do you want me to do?” San lurked over to the van, you were relaxing in one of the chairs you put up whenever you settled on a beach, browsing your phone.

This was supposed to be a surprise so he would work carefully and pray that Wooyoung would manage not to ramble about it by accident because he was too excited.

There was a moment when San considered asking Yeosang instead but thinking on how he was his girlfriend’s best friend, he'd feel too guilty to ask him to keep a secret from you.

“I am going to send you a few links, could you call them for me and see if they have a free appointment? I … want to ask Y/N to marry me soonand then, well. We have agreed we continue our trip for two more months and then, make our way home. Probably staying with my parents, anyway. I want the wedding to be amazing! Share it with the baby but also still comfortable for her. So I thought in about a month or two latest would be perfect.”

San spent days to find a location on your travel list that permitted the cliche and sappy beach weddings he loved to watch since he was little. The idea of seeing you walking through the sand in your favorite dress while the sun was setting over the ocean just made his heart melt. 

There was a scribbling sound on the other side of the line, and San knew that whenever it mattered, he could count on his best friend, with no hesitation. 

“Gotcha! I know you two have all of your papers on hand since you are the most thoughtful of the two of us. Then, we only need to figure out the date and payment, what’s the limit?”

San was glad that they just had a normal call and Wooyoung could not see his blushing face: “Ah, the budget… it’s a bit small. I always figured I’d have more time to add to my savings after our trip but I did prepare… just in case. I will uhm send it to you. It really is not too much but I know if the weather’s good and I will just prepare a few things myself, I looked at some tutorials, it’s doable.”

Wooyoung hissed: “Hell, you think your friends won’t gather some money for your wedding? You owe us a big cake when you get back here but count on it, I will give them a call and ask, making sure they know it’s a surprise. Don’t worry, I can sell it without the secret.” 

San pushed his hair back: “You really are something, Woo… Thank you.” 

He laughed on the other side of the line and ended the call. San slowly stood up and walked back to you, your eyes met him when he joined you, leaning down to kiss you gently. 

“How’s Woo?” you asked and put your phone aside.

“Mh, I think we no longer have to worry about him to suddenly showing up here with his own van but I think, he will always be a little pouty about how we went on this trip without him.” 

It had been an odd change, from seeing his best friend almost daily up to deciding to go on this trip with you but it was something San really wanted.

“Tch, he will forget about it by the time he learns he will be an uncle. I am almost afraid he will insist on moving in with us to babysit nonstop.” 

San could not hold back his laugh when you said it and your cheeks colored a little red: “What? I am not wrong, you can’t deny it.”

He shook his head, leaning in: “If anything, I just was thinking how accurate it is, almost as if he told me just that. Guess our daughter will be happy, lots of people fighting over who can babysit her.”

Yeah, as much as you playfully rolled your eyes again, San was convinced that it would be a little girl, with her mother’s temper and maybe his silly smile. He couldn’t wait to meet her. 

As you stepped outside of the van, the scene surprised you a little. San was still busy placing down two piles of buckets and differently shaped sand molds, next to small shovels. When he saw you, he smiled and walked over, lifting you for a moment to place a kiss on your lips.

“Good morning most beautiful woman in the world and my daughter,” he rubbed a hand over your belly which was finally starting to show signs of a progressing pregnancy.

“You sneaked out early, I woke up to breakfast but without my man,” you playfully complained and he winked: “That was because I had to prepare this.” San effortlessly carried you over and gently placed you down in the sand.

“I know we wanted to participate in this silly couple sand castle contest but as it seems we will not get the chance to do this, we just have to challenge one another. The store in town had all that we needed and I figured, we would have use for those anyway,” he pointed at everything.

This really was something only San would remember, when you read the article about it and joked it could be fun, it was just a short moment when waiting for the rain to stop but here he was, making sure you always felt appreciated, your wishes remembered.

“I hope you know I am an expert in the field? I was the number one babysitter in my neighborhood, I have first-class experience in setting up sandcastles,” you teased and San laughed as he settled down too.

“I will give my best then. I would say the winner gets to destroy the other’s, that seems fair and Wooyoung and I spent hours building ours just to tear it down at the end when we were young.” 

Of course, they would do this, it was cute to imagine the two best friends all small and then laughing at each other to ruin their own hard work and effort. 

“Sounds like a fair deal, I accept your challenge, should I set a timer?” You suggested and San nodded. Thirty minutes seemed like a good amount of time and you could not deny, it was a good idea to do it so early in the morning. Now that Summer was at its peak, it was not so easy anymore for you to spend all day outside, the heat was often just a little too much. 

The competition was not something important to you but once challenged, you always gave it your all and before you knew it, you were rather invested in the whole act. You started with the main part of the castle before adding little towers and a small water jump around it, with windows to look through and you even found a stick flying around next to you for a flage replacement.

When the timer was up, you could hear San laugh, and your cheeks blushed when you realized just how much effort you put into the details whereas San’s was not ugly but a little simpler.

“Ah, what to do about it, I feel we do not even have to figure out who the winner is between the two of us,” your boyfriend looked rather proud as he stood up and pulled out his phone.

One of the things the two of you did a lot was taking photos. This trip was meant to be an important memory of your life and you wanted to have many pictures you would be able to show to friends and family but now also, the idea to later show your child how it was born in such an import phase of your lives.

You stuck out your tongue and made a heart when San took a photo of you with your little sand castle. 

“A true queen, pretty but cruel, considering she’s about to tear down my kingdom,” he laughed and leaned in to kiss you but there was a small yelp as you simply pulled him down to you, lips meeting properly as you sighed into it, your arm curled around his neck.

“It’s okay because he’s also the queen’s to be consort and he will always have a home with her,” you whispered, ignoring how sappy this was.

San always enjoyed confirmations, he was almost like a cat receiving gentle head scratches as you ruffled his hair and looked fondly at him.

“How about we destroy the castle together?” you offered but he shook his head: “You won this duel truthfully and the to-be consort is honored it’s his queen that tears it down:”

For a moment, you wondered why he was smiling so knowingly but you chuckled and nodded: “Alright then, I shall be gentle.”

You carefully moved over to the castle and gave it a look, kids would love to build castles with San, he was good at doing things while still paying perfect attention to others.

You felt guilty to tear down his hard work and when you made it to his little tower, you stopped when something caught your eye. There was a small hole in the tower and a blue little pouch lurked out. Your fingers gently pulled it out and your curiosity was stronger than looking at him first.

There was a small paper roll held together by a silver band, your heart was beating loudly as you carefully pulled the ring off, looking at it and noticing how there was a very small but delicate stone set into it. Very likely, San must have prepared this before you left because it was a perfect fit, you knew without trying it on because your gaze wandered over the word.

‘Let’s build a sand castle together. One to stay in together forever, watch our children grow and be in even when we are old and crinkly. Marry me exactly today in two months?’

Tch, who made a proposal with a date already set?

Tears were flowing easily now, your emotions really were all over the place but when San was right by your side, laughing but with a hint of worry. 

“Hey, why are you crying my love?” he hugged you and you just hissed and laughed at the same time.

“You are so silly, proposing to me like that.” Your reaction seemed to ease his worries and he smiled: “Just needed to make sure it’s something memorable.”

It truly was, you finally got yourself together but allowed for him to gentle brush your tears from your cheeks. 

“Then you better hurry and put on that ring yourself,” you whispered. San looked at you, most fondly, full of love.

“I gladly will do that,” he whispered, kissing your forehead, before looking at your hand, the ring perfectly slipped on your ring finger and he lifted it, kissing it just as gently.

“I promise, I’ll forever look out for you, Y/N. No matter where we go and life carries us, I’m by your side.”

Your gazes met and you pushed yourself up a little, your hands resting on both of his cheeks before you kissed him deeply. 

“So will I,” you whispered, the ocean water gently playing with the rocks in the sea, quiet witnesses to your love confessions. 

“If I didn’t know it better, I’d say you are nervous,” Wooyoung grinned and San tried to rub the red off his cheek. Was he nervous? Of course! How often did you marry the perfect person and mother of your first child? 

Time flew by and before hew knew it, the two months were over. You two made the most out of it and there were little regrets. Now, tickets were booked to fly back to your city in two days, so his wife-to-be could settle down comfortably and enjoy the last part of pregnancy without worry . You found a service that agreed to take the van back to the city for a fee together with new cars. 

Yeosang and Wooyoung didn’t share their plans on coming here, they just showed up yesterday and now, San was thankful for, having two best men for the ceremony, it would make this memory even more meaningful. 

“Am I? Well, my best friend planned half of my wedding, how good I trust him completely,” San joked and grinned when Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

“Well, you look great. Let’s go then, we do not want the bride to arrive before the groom.”

He wore a loose suit jacket with comfortable white pants and matching shoes, something that matched well with the beach, his hair undone since he knew you loved it more naturally. San fixed it a last time before exhaling, nodding to his best friend to indicate he was ready or well, he hoped he was. 

Thanks to the budget Wooyoung collected, San was also able to prepare a very small private dinner, your best friends to join for a little before it would only be the two of you. The set up at the beach was simple, with the sunset drawing close, there were lamps lightened up and a simple table with flower. San already talked everything through with the woman who held the wedding ceremony and the papers were signed beforehand.

“Are you ready Mister Choi,” she asked with a smile and he nodded. Wooyoung gave him a small pat on the shoulder, grinning but he also seemed somewhat excited. San was playing with his fingers as the three waited and then there you were.

Since it was only your two best friends, Yeosang was taking the role of your father, holding your arm comfortably. It really was quite the TV wedding with that floaty white dress, your belly now very visible with your child growing well and healthy. Instead of a bouquet, you decided you’d rather have a loose flower crown. 

You chuckled and San was just smiling like a fool as he watched you barefoot walking down the beach and he fixed his posture a little to stand proud and tall. When you arrived, Yeosang winked at San before letting go and stepping at your side, San reaching out to take your hand.

The ceremony was short because you did not feel as if you needed big words, instead, San was all lost looking at you, the way your eyes shined brightly, the wind playing with your loose hair, and that smile he fell for back in the day he ran into you at the bakery. 

When the question of all questions was asked, San freed one of his hands, placing it on your belly and he looked at the woman, nodding:

“Yes.”

The second ring was slipped right on the same finger, you insisted you wanted to wear both. The rings were simple but that was okay, neither of you needed anything fancy. It suited you.

His hand was a little shaky when you put the ring on his finger and before anything could be said, you pulled him closer and into a kiss.

Wooyoung was whistling when Yeosang just laughed and clapped his hand. 

“Are you happy now, Mister Choi?” you teased, whispering and he looked at you, kissing your forehead. “Very much, Miss Choi. Now, hold on.”

Your arms curled around his neck and he lifted you up again, still no sign of struggle as he carried you over to the small table set up, your best friends followed, chatting a little. 

For San, it was just you and him right now, the sound of the sea and the wind being guests to remember this day together with the both of you.

“Time for the cake then,” Yeosang kept it inside of the car in a cooling box to keep it fresh. It was small but pretty. You designed it and San could tell so because it looked like a little sand castle and a king and queen sitting on top. 

“Now the most important part, who will be the leading hand in this marriage,” Wooyoung joked with a grin and San loved how you never lacked confidence.

“Is that even a question?” San would lay the world to your feet as much as he could but the two of you were equally stubborn.

“I will take photos,” Wooyoung called out and moved over, preparing the camera, Yeosang stood next to him. 

“Ready?” you asked, the grin a little too mischievously. If he did not know it better, he would say you were up to something but then, it was hard to tell just what it was.

His hand gently placed on yours and he gave you a gentle nod: “Let’s do this.” 

The cake was small but firm, as you two carefully cut out a slice. You handed him a plate and San carefully placed it on a plate, picking up a fork. It was the moment he intended take a bit to offer it to you that his mind started to work.

The filling of the cake was pink. It was the very opposite color to baby blue and he felt silly that it literally took him so long to get it.

He proposed to you with a little sand castle and he thought this simply was why it looked like it but this was you revealing something to him.

There was proof of how Wooyoung’s minds proved to work the same.

The screaming sound of the two best friends happened at about the same moment when Yeosang and you laughed.

“I TOLD YOU IT’S A GIRL!”

[spencerified]

Hiii, well, English is not my first language, sorry for that. I'm not a writer, but a big reader, so welcome to the community ^^

I was thinking about a reader who works in BAU, gets kidnapped, and for some reason the su-des was filming, and the reader is forced to confess that she like Spencer, (The whole team saw it).

As if the su-des were playing a game like truth or dare, and ended up reluctantly confessing that, the reader having a lot of confidence. If you read this and do it I would be very grateful, ily^^♡

(Can be fem!reader or g!reader, it doesn't matter, I repeat, if you read it and do it I will thank you for the rest of my life)

hiii!!! first of all thank you so much for trusting me with your request 🫶 this came out a little (a lot) longer than I thought it would but i hope it's still what you expected and that you enjoy it!! any other requests are very welcome ♡ lots of hugs for everyone

✿

"Stop."

You're relieved that your weak attempt, your last resort at trying to get the Unsub to show you mercy, makes him stop in his tracks. You still feel the ghost of the edge of a knife itching against your skin, when it was unclear if he really wanted to hurt you or if it was just an attempt at getting you to break. To get you to spill your most deepest, darkest secrets, the ones hidden within the depths of your heart. 

Hidden even from Spencer, who looks at you from (presumably) miles away, through a sketchy live transmission sent to Garcia. Untraceable, of course. He desperately wishes he could just snap his fingers and make it all go away. Every tear, every ache, every whisper of pain. Wants to build a world where you won’t know suffering ever again.

Hotch's voice when he first trained you for what Penelope called 'The Non-Fun Parts of The Job' resonates in your hazy mind. Be aware your surroundings, he said, and you wonder if he might be disappointed on the other side of the camera haphazardly propped up a few feet in front of you, it's red light mocking you with each blink.

"Why are you doing this?" You say, emitting now only a pitiful vestige of your voice which is usually never afraid to speak on anything. It seems amusing to him because seconds later, a cheshire grin blossoms in his face, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand. 

"Oh, you have no idea who I am, do you?" He says. You've never thought a person could inflict so much fear with only a look and a few words. "I don't remember you either, so no hard feelings. But the BAU has... humiliated me. Took everything I love away from me. My family, my job, my friends..." His voice grows low to the point that if you weren't so on edge, you would have to strain your ears to hear him. "They may think getting away for years feels like a reward to me, but they don't live what I live. 

Watching the TV waiting for the next time the BAU finally remembers me over the rest of the cases they have to push away to the… dusty corners of their file room because of their incompetency and decides to spread my picture all over the news once again... it's no way to live." 

The man's voice is so calm you constantly wait for the other shoe to drop. Like when you're so scared on a rollercoaster and your only option is to close your eyes and wait for the inevitable drop. It doesn't come. It seems like years of inflicting pain on others, and then years of hiding away from the consequences are an upstanding process on how to numb a person.

Spencer sees it too. He sees that this Unsub just won't lose control, and that scares him. Because someone this put together – in a rather bizarre way, wouldn't even bat an eye were he to decide on hurting you. And Spencer would have to watch it all, powerless, scribbling over and over again over his wide map spread out on the conference room's table. 

"I'm sorry..." You lie through your teeth. "That you have to live that way."

Fake empathy towards him, Hotch echoes on your head again. You must be reliving his instructions in your head as a way to keep your cool. You bite your lip so hard you fear it might bleed when you realize you're doing it. He's delusional, you reason. He thinks the BAU wanting to catch him for murdering at least 7 couples in public parks is somehow a way to wrong him. 

"Well, thank you," he says, a bitter tone bleeding into his words. "But it's not enough. Luckily for you, you know just what to do that will be." 

"I don't have any secrets," you confess. Outside of the BAU, you don't have a very interesting life. Go home, say hi to the neighbors in your building, sometimes smile at someone while shopping groceries. No burning, forbidden love affair – mostly because the only candidate you want is endearingly oblivious –, no superhero side quests that would make for an interesting conversation at lunch break with your coworkers. No skeletons in your closet, no secret vices or scandalous secrets that would obliterate your pristine reputation amongst your coworkers. Not even one involving the most important one of them. Of course not. 

"I'm sure you do. Everyone does," he circles your chair. You want to sob when you lose sight of him and feel his presence looming on the back of the chair. Not knowing when your life could potentially be taken away from you is jarring. 

"I don't," you say. You don't need to use the word 'please' for him to know that you're begging for your life. "I really don't." 

Pull yourself together, you think. This is not how a BAU agent must react when faced with a threat. But then again, you've only been here for less than a year, and maybe you just don't have it in you to keep your cool the way the rest of your team would. You take a harsh deep breath. 

Spencer has a rather uncanny ability to tune the world out. When he's engrossed in his job, his books, his facts, it's easy to lose himself on them. Specially when the only person who usually listens to him when he externalizes them is away. 

Not away, he thinks. That makes it seem like you're taking a vacation. A small voice in the back of his head wonders where would you go if you were given the chance to. Then, he remembers he might never find out if he doesn't figure this out soon. The case has the team's complete and utter attention, and he knows these are some of the best minds in the Bureau. But he still feels like it's his responsibility to figure it out; he can't help but think that it's what it's expected of him. He wonders if that expectation stems from being a prodigy, or because he's so close to you that it only makes sense it would be him. 

He feels a rush flowing through his veins when he feels like he's close to figuring it out. Then, he's harshly brought back to the reality where he hogs the conference room's table with his map and the team scatters over the rest of the room, working on who-knows-what, by a series of worrying hurried breaths of yours. 

"Okay, okay!" You say, when he roughly yanks you by the hair to keep you still. The knife you thought was previously discarded hovers over your ear. 

"One clean slash, and you'll be out like a light."

You don't find it in yourself to want to test the veracity of that theory out. 

So you realize your only shot at getting out of here might be giving him what he wants. You can't stall anymore, and one side of your brain tells you that it's your team, they'll get here in time, and the other asks itself if that might be a thing that just happens in unrealistic crime shows. 

"I..." You start. You wonder if Spencer is watching this. You would rather have every agent in the FBI hear this, all 35,000 of them, instead of him. You whimper when the knife inches closer to your skin. You can't die. Not here. Is keeping your perception of dignity worth losing your life? "I like my coworker." 

It doesn't satisfy the Unsub. "Which one?" 

You want to refuse to answer, to curl into a ball and cry until you recover the false sense of confidence you walk around with that has now been shattered. You'll get it back, eventually. Not if you die. So you toughen it up, and breathe deep. "Spencer." 

It sounds so stupid. A mere speck in the grand scheme of things, of problems and situations anyone would expect an FBI agent to have. But it's the hardest thing you've ever had to say.

And it's the hardest thing he's ever had to hear. If it were in any other situation, he wouldn't have put it past him to jump in glee. You, with your head always held high, never one to shy away from showing who you were to the world, with your gentle soul that lured him in even when he tried to keep his heart safe from rejection... You liked him. But that's not his focus right now. Even if every single train of thought in his brain has come to a catastrophic halt, he has to focus, because he can't take one more second of seeing you trying to keep calm with a knife to your throat. 

A picture of Hannah Davis, one of the victims from the original case, hung up on the wall behind you ends up giving the Unsub's whole act away. Still, it doesn't make a lot of sense for Hannah to have hung up a picture of herself in her own house, so the team splits to cover both the boyfriend's house and Hannah's. 

It's just a precautionary measure. Spencer knows exactly where you are.

"Oh, Dr. Reid. Idiots interrogated me about once or twice as a witness and he was a real boom with the ladies at the precinct back then. Let me tell you, if I had his charm, I wouldn't have had to resort to killing couples to get off." 

The Unsub lets go of your hair with no warning and your head hangs down as if you were a rag doll. You find it in yourself to hum uninterestedly at his sick attempt of joking. 

You don't think you've ever felt your heart beating as hard as it is right now. And when you tune out the sound of the man talking and rambling about God knows what, you realize that the thumping you hear in your ears isn't your heart. That maybe the creaking on the stairs isn't a product of your delirious mind conjuring up a sequence where you magically get saved from the bad guy.

You sigh when the man behind you yanks you back again. This time, you feel the need to put on a facade. Make it look like you’ve come to terms with it; if this is how you go, then so be it. The knife on your throat makes your heart rate pick back up, but you don't whimper. You wonder if you're trying to keep it together for yourself or because you are ashamed of the image your team will have of you after this if you don't.  

You hear Morgan kick the door down. Usually, you're on the other side of this. You help talk an Unsub down, and then make fun of Morgan after for kicking the door instead of opening it like a civilized FBI agent. Talking them down doesn't always work. Sometimes, you end up with another casualty added to the case. In the worst outcome, you end up with two more. You're not as unafraid as you thought. Please, God, you think. This cannot be the end. 

Morgan screaming at the Unsub to put the knife down falls in deaf ears. It's only white noise to you now, and maybe that stems from the fact that you have been held hostage for what felt like days with no food, no water, no sun, and you feel so close to it being over. Soon, you'll be on a hospital bed, eating food that only the thought of makes you feel nauseated but even that is better than this. Maybe Spencer will sneak you a treat. Or maybe that's wishful thinking. 

As you're dwelling on what the consequences of him potentially hearing your confession might be, you hear a gun go off. You don't even react when the pressure exerted on the right side of your neck, the weight of the arm holding you in place suddenly fades away as your head falls forward. 

You hear the thud of a body hit the ground. Maybe we can still be friends, you try to reason. Spencer drops his smoking gun to a side as Morgan tries to untie your hands behind your back. Maybe he'll reciprocate, or is that too much of a delusion to have even in your incoherent state? Spencer holds you in his arms when you have nothing pushing you back against the chair anymore. 

"I'm sorry," you sob into his shoulder, not an ounce of strength remaining in your body. You were not made for this. Not made for withstanding this kind of torment. If you mean the torment of being kidnapped, or the torment that awaits you once you're not hysterically sobbing in front of the man you're not ready to admit you love, you're not sure. "I'm so sorry." 

"Hey," he says, tenderly. You don't know how much time it's gone by since the last time you saw him. The only thing you know is that this kind of gentleness is now unfamiliar after harsh hands engraved themselves all over you. "Hey, it's okay. What are you sorry for?" 

"I'm sorry," you say, worn out, the words echoing around your head like a DVD screensaver. You then register his question. "For saying that." 

You don't specify what. It's not necessary; it never has been with Spencer. Somehow, you both know exactly what the other means, with just a glance, a brush of an arm when somehow you find yourself trapped in his orbit once again. 

"It's alright," is it? Part of him wonders if being with you might have become even more unattainable now than it was before. If you'll push him away because the memory of the circumstances of your confession is too painful to bear. His hand hovers in the air before he finds a moment where he feels like you won't get up and run away from him if he touches you. You shudder, but ultimately stay right where you are. "Don't cry. You're okay." 

Are we okay? You have to ask. But maybe right now is not the moment. Maybe right now all you want is to be held before everything goes down the drain. You've hit rock bottom, and everyone probably sees it too. Spencer just wishes you find it in your heart to let him be the one to help you out of there. You don't need to yell for help if you have him – the most minuscule mutter of your burdens will be enough to have him snapping into action. He knows what it's like to give every sign that you could ever think of and still have them ignored. He isn't about to let you go through that. 

"We're going to go home now, yeah?" You nod. When you come to it, your fingers ache from holding onto his shirt so hard you want to apologize to him in case you had hurt him. You don't find the words. The rise and fall of his chest had lulled you into the deepest, calmest sleep you have managed to get in a while, even before the kidnapping happened at all, and in this moment, you almost swear that it'll all be okay. 

When you wake up, there's a steady hold in your hand as the ambulance rocks back and forth. 

"God, they need to get that street fixed," you say. You don't recognize your voice, the rasp in your throat being the only thing to confirm that it is indeed you speaking. It takes you a moment to realize that the hand that holds yours firmly is Spencer's. 

You'd be lying if you said you weren't scared to look at him. What would his expression be like? Disgust? Perhaps Morgan made him ride with you until they got to the ambulance. Perhaps he offered to do so because he wanted to do something nice for you before he completely tore your heart to shreds by saying he doesn't like you back. Perhaps-

"We're almost there." The way his voice manages to shut every deprecating thought in your head should be studied. As a reflex, you turn your head to look at him. You wish you hadn't, because the way he looks at you like you're a masterpiece – a rather flawed one, even if he doesn't think so, isn't helping the ache in your chest. Your first thought is that it's awe, but then you think you might want to get that get that checked out when you get to the hospital. 

You barely notice his hand shifting around yours, until it holds your wrist, his thumb pressed softly but firm against your pulse point. He can probably feel the way your heart quickens when he leans in to take a look at your face. 

"Does the light hurt your eyes?" You nod, sluggishly. He turns over to look at the paramedic who sits next to you. You feel a little bit of relief at the fact that no one's hovering over you. It means you're okay. It's all minor. And mostly psychological. Spencer starts listing studies and tests they apparently need to run on you, and while you love the way he rambles, you don't think you can keep up with him without getting a stroke in the process right now.

You doze off again. God, you needed that. You hadn't closed your eyes for more than a couple of seconds during all of your stay in that house. Stay. You don't know what else to call it. 

Emily stayed with you while they checked you out and in her words, it was like you were moving on autopilot. It was unnerving, but the doctors had informed her that there was nothing wrong besides a couple of nasty bruises you would have to spend extra concealer on. 

Spencer offered to stay overnight. One can only imagine how unsettling it was for him to lift his head from his book to see you sitting up like a spring at 2:45 am. 

"Hi," he says, his voice a hushed breath as he sits on the edge of your bed, smiling awkwardly at you. There's no one else in the room, but it's like if any of you speaks louder than a whisper, the bubble you're in will burst. Your chest heaves with hurried breaths, and you rub your eyes.

"Hey." You're already dreading this conversation. Is there any way to go back to before you were kidnapped and forced to confess you're in love with your best friend/coworker? Anyhow, you don't want to stay in the dark anymore and hurry to speak directly to the point. "I don't want things to be weird between us." 

"We haven't even talked for a minute, what do you mean?" 

You let out a short, humorless laugh, which could be easily just interpreted as a hum. You scramble over the clutter that is your mind right now to find a topic that will help you evade the awkwardness. "... Why are you still awake?" 

He didn't expect you to ask that, if the way his gaze drifts to the side is anything to go by. 

"The book was very... interesting, to say the least," he blatantly lies. You don't know if he's a bad liar or if you're just an expert in the Spencer Reid sciences. 

"I'm sure it was." 

You don't speak for a minute. A minute and 33 seconds, he counts, and you're heading strong for a second one when his voice breaks the uncomfortable atmosphere. 

"Listen, I..." 

"I know you heard it." Everyone probably did. And it'll be less humiliating if you act like you don't wish you could just crawl out of your skin and hide. "I'm sorry. I just didn't want to die." 

"I'm glad you said it." 

You don't know if he's glad you said it because otherwise you would have probably bled out before they even got to the house or because the fog that used to sit atop of whatever weird tension you both seemed to develop whenever you were the last ones in the conference room, paired to interview a witness, or sharing the big couch on the jet, is finally cleared up. 

You can't lie and say you're not relieved you did, too.

"I'm glad too," you say, mostly to yourself. Where do you go from here? Spencer knows a lot of things, none of which seem useful at the moment. He's almost tempted to bring Morgan in for moral support; otherwise, he's about to perform the worst ridicule he's ever had the pleasure to star in. 

You wait for him to speak. He doesn't, and instead stares at the bedsheets that look like their sole existence is an offense by the way his brow creases. 

"You look like something's bothering you," you say, tentatively testing the waters. Can you already joke with him, or is it too soon to pretend like everything's okay? "Is it not a nice pattern?" 

He smiles for a split second. You didn't realize the air had been lacking from your lungs until this very second. "The pattern is geometrically off. If you look at it closely, you'll see that the diamonds aren't quite aligned properly. It seems minor, yet it's still evident enough to unconsciously make the pattern less appealing to the eyes. I suppose that's what you get with mass-produced and machine-made products nowadays."

You smile warmly at him. Only then it's that your chest tightens as the realization of just how much you missed just hearing him talk about things that would have never even crossed your mind in a thousand years, dawns upon you.

"Sorry. I forgot my magnifying glass at home." 

"I see you didn't left the wit back there." You smile at him. It feels foreign. Just a second ago you were avoiding looking at him like the mere action of doing so would make you burst into flames on the spot. Your smile is like fuel for the burning courage consuming his insides as he opens his mouth again. "I... I think- No, sorry. I mean, I am certain that..." Okay, Spencer. Great way to start. He tries to gather his thoughts, which proves to be a much harder challenge when they're all a jumbled mess. 

"You like your coworker too?" 

"Yeah," he says. His lips curl into a warm, genuine smile that does wonders at speaking of the deep affection that harbors in the depths of his soul. One only reserved for you. He's quick to repress it because he doesn't want to seem stupid. 

You don't let him throw you off your feet. "Dr. Reid, can you wait until I don't feel and look like a bus just ran over me to confess your unconditional and undying love for me?" 

He wouldn't have expected a different answer from you. The confidence you wear on the outside is a mask for the way he makes you melt like a bar of chocolate in warm weather on the inside. You don't need him to answer to that. He touches your hair, and you turn to look at the bag of skittles placed on the bedside table, and you know he'll gladly wait until you don't feel like you've been stripped of all your defenses. Until you feel like yourself again. 

[ox-imagines]

Tokyo Debunker as Romance Tropes

Feel free to ask me to write a longer imagine/oneshot for any of these!

Pt. 6 | Mortkranken

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 | Pt. 7

Yuri - Academic Rivals

No one makes your blood boil like Isami Yuri does. He’s your only peer who can match and outdo you, your only peer as dedicated to his work as you are to yours, and he always looks gorgeous doing it. He absolutely infuriates you. He knows he infuriates you, and he enjoys it. That cold, insidious glint in his eyes and his victorious, slightly manic smirk every time he gets under your skin just makes it worse; you hate feeling like you’re losing control of your temper in front of him, giving him more ammo, but you can’t help it when he stares you down like that. The tension between the two of you every time you interact is almost palpable. Then, the end of the semester rolls around and come to find out the two of you have no classes together. Your life and studies can return to normal and you can exist in peace. Except… it’s actually boring. There’s no one to catch any flaws in your work and call you out on it, no one to challenge you to do your best, you’re simply at the top of your classes with no one to threaten that position. It makes it seem a whole lot less worthwhile. You find yourself subconsciously seeking him out, searching for the scheming glitter of his sea-colored eyes, the gleam of his aqua hair, in the hallways and the dining hall and the parking lot. Without him, there’s no motivation to be at the top of your game, without him there’s no point. You don’t end up seeing him around, but one day, he finds you instead. You feel someone grab you from behind, dragging you around a corner, and you turn to find Yuri with his hair a bit tousled and his eyes crazed, but in a different way than usual. Like he’s the bothered one now rather than how you’re used to him enjoying your suffering. He’s agitated in a way you’ve never seen him, backing you against the wall, and while you still felt the usual tension between the two of you, this time it felt different somehow. As if the tension was actually a good thing.

“Everyone here is pitiful. Everyone but you. I can’t even begin to say how much I hate admitting this, but I need you.”

Jiro - Lab Partners

You don’t know Jiro well when you’re partnered in lab. It happens simply by coincidence. Neither of you knew anyone in the class, and you each took a seat at opposite sides of an empty table. No one else sat there, therefore, the two of you got partnered. Jiro isn’t exactly the easiest person to get to know either, letting you know quite bluntly that he feels your questions are too personal (even if it’s just small talk about his interests or hobbies). He’s also a bit off-putting: he’s very tall, and very quiet, and just a bit awkward. Despite that, despite knowing nothing about what he enjoys or is like outside of class, you only grow more curious, and each lab assignment has you feeling a bit closer to him. Then again, you have to be quite physically close to him to dissect a pig fetus together, for example. His arm pressed against yours is surprisingly a bit warmer than you’d expected, and over the scent of formaldehyde you can make out tones of a crisp, subtle cologne on him. He really looks quite nice up close like this, the slope of his nose giving him a pretty profile and his usually tired eyes focused intently on his incisions; his eyelashes were enviously long and dark, too. You swear you feel him staring at you the same way sometimes when you aren’t looking, but you suppose you can’t be sure. One afternoon, the two of you meet in the lab outside of class hours to collect time-sensitive data on some bacteria cultures you were working with. You realize it’s the first time the two of you have been truly alone together, let alone with the only light in the room coming through the windows as the sun begins to sink and from the opened sample fridge throwing an incandescent glow. As he retrieves your samples, the obnoxious fridge lighting seems to cast a pallor over his generally wearied expression, but as he pulls back and closes the door the sun hits the side of his face, dappled through the leaves outside but making him seem to glow, lighting up his crimson eye that it touched and making it gleam as if it were on fire. From the sunlight in your eye and the way he was looking at you, you could guess he was experiencing a similar phenomenon to yours.

“The sun’s in my eye. I’m gonna collect the data and then we should get out of here before it’s dark out. I haven’t eaten yet, have you?”