#the party ended a week ago and i'm still here

[commander-rahrah]

Talking to the Moon: Part IX

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~2570 Warnings: some borrowed in game dialogue, no use of y/n, canonical warnings apply!

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here part II: here part III: here part IV: here part V: here part VI: here VII: here VIII: here

Summary: Set in the end stages of Act III. The party faces it's biggest threat, yet Astarion can't help but worry about his future with you.

Notes: Hi folks ♡ What a hiatus! But I'm now officially married and loving life with my partner and doggos! This chapter is a bit shorter, but I didn't want to get too nitty gritty with details of the last fights leading up to the netherbrain (cause there is too many scenarios/decisions about who you bring and side with etc. etc.) and also because that's not really what this fic is about so... lol. I just wanted to add in little Astarion POVs and twists here and there for wrapping up the main game/known content so then I can get into the custom/headcannony stuff for the end! I would say there is probably 2 chapters of this left where I can wrap up this little story and give these two little heroes a happily ever after!

Thank you so much for reading! As always, kudos and comments are very very appreciated ♡♡♡

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Astarion’s red eyes couldn’t help but always go to you — visions dancing in them as he envisioned his future life with you.

Like when the group was in Lady Jannith’s house a week ago — ghosts and possessed furniture aside — all he could do was imagine the grand home was both of yours. Lounging on the settee with his head on your lap. Reading a book on one of the high backed chairs in the study. Ravishing you on the large, luxurious four poster bed. In the tub. On the balcony.

He thought his desire for you would be a slow build, a steady incline like the last few months had been. As you had slowly re-wired his mind and soul with your patient, gentle touches. As you showed him what it was supposed to feel like. At first it had been casual touches, then slightly more intimate gentle caresses. Then you kissed him again — gods, he still thought about that kiss on those crumpling ramparts. Then it was more than just his lips you put your mouth on, spreading kisses over parts of him that he had never thought of in that way. And it was like his body was set on fire in a whole different way.

But when you both reached that precipice and jumped off that cliff — when he finally got to have you, again, he was ruined.

You had ruined him. He felt like he could never have enough. Gods, he loved you. And you loved him. You repeated it, continuously to him — the words uttered so often to him that they were beginning to sound like a prayer. You loved him. You said you would love him for the rest of your life.

Your whole life… Just a fraction of his.

You would love him for the rest of your life.

And then he would miss you for all of his.

Save of him suddenly finding a cure for vampirism or you being turned immortal he would lose you one day. A thought that rattled the vampire to the core. Astarion had tried to broach the topic, but you kept brushing it off. To be fair, the entire group was constantly dealing with the looming threat of total annihilation thanks to the Netherbrain — but he couldn’t help but worry. You had finally given him something to hope for, a future to look forward to. Pardon him for being concerned it would be cut prematurely short.

Such worries were flooding through him now, his pale fingers trembling as he looked around the ominous cave. It was dank and dark. It smelled absolutely disgusting, and his boots were wet from having to swim to shore. Yet his red eyes could not stray from you for long, not even as you checked on your friends, grabbing their shoulders and giving them determined nods. He had to force the lump in his throat down into nothing just to keep it together.

He needed to be strong. You needed him to be strong. The vampire needed to put his fears of what the expiration date of "forever" would be for him and his mortal love — if only for long enough to stop the chaos of the Absolute once and for all. No instead he would focus on what he will do once you all won. The celebrations and adventures still to be had. The touches to share, expensive wine to drink and stories to whisper.

His thoughts steadied as you approached, though the smallest line in between your brows caused him worry. "You always pick the most romantic spots." He teased, grabbing onto your waist as you sidled up next to him.

You raised a brow, a smirk tugging on the corners of your lips, "Says the man who brought me to a cemetery."

He barked out a laugh, "Touché."

Your laugh didn't quite reach your eyes, which were instead darting around the cavern nervously.

"Darling," Astarion grabbed onto your chin tenderly, forcing you to look at him. His red eyes flickered back and forth over your features before he finally spoke, "There is no limit to what I would do for you. For us." Your bottom lip trembled at his declaration, silver lining the bottom of your eyes for a moment. "I waited centuries for you. Nothing will stop me from being yours. Not time, or vampire master, or a monstrosity of a brain." His pale thumb brushed the tears away from your eyes, and his lashes blinked his own away, "I love you, my moon."

"I love you, Astarion." You whispered shakily.

He placed his cold lips on yours, more softly than he had ever done before. So soft and tender that he didn’t even realize he was capable of it. Both of his hands cupped the sides of your face, using the momentum to pull your chest flush against his as he deepened his kiss. Before you could react, he pulled away though, letting out a husky breath. "We better survive this. Because I never want to stop doing that."

You blinked yourself out of the stupor he had put you in, looking up at him with shining eyes. "We will."

"Get a room lovebirds!" Karlach's teasing voice echoed from behind. "We gotta brain to kill."

The rest of the group had soft smiles on their face as they looked over you both, before stepping forward with determined nods. 

You straightened your shoulders, standing at full height as you looked over your shoulder to the ominous path ahead, though your fingers still stayed twined in Astarion's. "Shall we then?"

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Gods, were you strong.

Stronger than him undoubtedly — even with his spawn nature and physique.

The concentration in your brow and lip as you held the golden sphere around the group, your hands never faltering as mind flayers and spells and a dragon were hurled at you. Yet your powerful magic kept them all safe, shielded and protected by your will.

The unwavering focus in your eyes as you faced the monstrosity of the Netherbrain. Astarion’s knees had trembled and his dagger would have fallen through the sky if it wasn’t for the enchantment tying it to his palm. But you didn’t falter — though he wasn’t sure if you took a breath the entire time.

Your quick nerve as you and Gale formulated a plan together— the group falling head over heels through the air as you all hurled from the falling Netherbrain and nearing the water below. Your hands steady as they mimicked the wizard’s, casting the spell that defied gravity at the perfect moment.

The conviction in your voice as you said goodbye to some friends — but convinced others to save themselves. Sending Karlach and Wyll off together, bidding Lae’zel farewell for now. Convincing Gale that he himself, as he was, is good and pure and right.

The strength of your mind as you yet again concentrated on a spell — covering you both in magical darkness as Astarion had to flee the sun. The strength of your arms wrapped around his torso as he cried into your chest — already grieving the feeling of the warm light and the new life he had found in it. The strength of your love for him — whispering to him that he would be alright, that it was okay — huddled together in the forgotten alley until with your spell and your soothing voice you were able to coax him from his hiding spot.

Your strength to be vulnerable — to let the mask fall once you, Astarion and Gale were alone. Looking at the empty chairs at the tavern table that once held your friends — now all spread across to different planes of existence in a matter of moments. Your tired, sad smile as you and Gale gave each other comforting hugs, whispering your pride to the other after all of the anguish and turmoil had settled. 

How easily your fingers laced through Astarion’s cool, pale fingers as he dragged you away upstairs to finally be alone. Behind the wooden door, both your masks fully dropped as you embraced each other tightly, faces pressed into each other's necks. “It’s… over. Truly over.” You muttered into his skin, your warm lips eliciting goosebumps on the sensitive skin. 

"Ha," A half-hearted chuckle escaped him, shaking you both slightly. In this moment, it truly sunk in. You were here, you were both here. No tadpoles or mindflayers. No vampire masters or ascendancy to haunt you. You were both yourselves, safe and whole. "It is."

You pulled away to look at him, your eyebrows knitted together, "I thought I would feel more-"

"Relieved?" He finished for you. 

"Yes. I am but... I almost feel more unsettled now than ever before. I can't stop thinking about our friends, our city, the children..."

He grabbed your shoulders tenderly, giving them a squeeze, "No one expects you to have an answer for those things. You've done so much already." 

You flushed, looking down between the two of you. "We have. All of us."

But he lifted your chin with a curled finger, raising your gaze to look back up at him, "Don't sell yourself short. No one would have made it this far without you, my moon. I know I wouldn't have." 

You only sniffled as you blinked away the silver tears that were trying to fall from your eyes. 

"Now, I think the bare minimum the hero of Baldur's Gate deserves is a good night's sleep. Don't you think?"

"Ugh, I feel like I could sleep for a century actually."

"While I don't think I want to part with you for that long, I surely understand the sentiment." He winked, before leading you over to the soft bed in the center of the room. "Sit."

You silently obeyed him, watching him as he kneeled to gracefully untie the laces of your boots before sliding them off. As he worked on helping you change, he could practically see the gears whirling in your head. So he shook his head softly as you finally opened your mouth to speak, "Rest, my love. We can talk about the rest later." 

You nodded in agreement, before reaching across to the other side of the soft mattress and patting it, "Will you lay with me?"

"As long as you will have me."  

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You had hoped for a dreamless night — you had even done a half hearted prayer to Selûne as your head hit the pillow that your mind would find peace after the insanity of the day.

And by her grace or pure luck — or perhaps it truly was from the exhaustion of these past few weeks — you slept. Your mind was clear, and quiet for the first time in months. No dreams, nightmares or visions had come to plague you either. 

As you slowly woke up, you lavished in the sensation of the mattress enveloping you, the soft blankets covering your body. The sensation of Astarion's weight and presence next to you made your heart flutter and stomach warm. When you finally cracked an eyelid open, you found that the vampire's red eyes were already trained on you. He was laying on his side, his head perched on his hand braced on the pillow. His lips quirked up as he realized he had been caught staring.

“Hello, darling.” He whispered affectionately, reaching out to move a stray hair from your face. 

You smiled at the tender touch, before looking around the room quickly. You couldn't tell what time it was — courtesy of both of you 'sunproofing' the room before heading to bed. You suddenly realized the hours you would keep would become very different — not that it bothered you. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Hmm, barely. I thought after everything I would and yet… too much on my mind I suppose.”

"I seem to remember someone giving very specific instructions to get a good night's sleep. Did that not apply to you, starry?" You said with a smirk, stretching your limbs above your head lazily. 

His eyes followed your movements, his lips parting slightly before he spoke again. “I was just thinking of freedom.” He shuffled slightly closer on the bed, “How we're free of the parasite. I'm free of Cazador. How I’ll never be in someone’s power again. And all it cost… was my life in the sun. Now I belong to the shadows. And I can't help but think... now what?" 

Your lips pulled into a sad smile, shifting closer to him as well, “If it’s what you desire, I will help you find a way to walk in the sun again.”

His red eyes went round, “I— do you think it’s possible?”

“I think the last few months have proven that anything is possible.”

A chuckle bubbled out of him, “I guess you’re right. And even if there’s a small chance… plus, it would mean we setting off on another adventure together." He said fondly, before looking back over at you. "Is that what you want? Is this what you want? I would understand if you wanted to go your own way…”

You pressed your fingers to his pink lips, halting his thoughts spiralling down. “This is my own way. With you. Have I not made that clear before Astarion Ancunin?" 

He kissed the pads of your fingertips, before drawing them down to hold to his bare chest. “Good. Because as selfless as I am, I really didn’t want to let you go." He said cheekily, nuzzling closer into you. "We are rather excellent together you know."

"And united there is nothing we can’t do." You said confidently. 

He arched a white brow, "Even making a vampire walk in the sun?" 

"Even that. Though it may not be an exciting adventure at first, it may take some hours in a library completing research first." 

"Ugh, I was hoping you wouldn't say that." He said dramatically, rolling out of your arms to sprawl across the soft mattress. 

You chuckled at him until the sound of a heavy thud outside your door made you both whip your heads forward. With a furrowed brow, you slipped out of the bed and cautiously approached the door. 

It opened with a creak, though no one greeted you on the other side. Looking down, you found several tomes and volumes of books in a neat pile on the floor. Bending low you scooped them up and carried the large stack into the room.

"What in the heavens are those?" Astarion questioned, flopping onto his stomach on the bed as he watched you cross the room. 

You placed them down on the little wooden table next to the bed, before running a finger down the spines with a smile. A Book of Light & Darkness, Curse with Vigor: Casting & Undoing, The Magic of Freedom... 

A folded piece of parchment was placed in between the first two books. Grabbing it, you opened it and instantly recognized the curling cursive inside. 'I hoped you slept better then me. But I had an idea in the middle of the night and made a visit to a friendly wizard's tower. We best get to work.'

You laughed as you handed the note over to the curious Astarion, "It seems Gale had the same idea as us." 

"Well, I guess that means we aren't getting rid of the wizard anytime soon." He said with a fanged grin. "Good, I was just starting to get used to him." 

[mousekink]

*insert that one photo of the lesbians doing makeup*

[half-lightl]

help, I'm still at the restaurant (waiting for that jacob/assad interview)

[hedgehog-moss]

I went to see the transhumance last week and it was an experience! I've lived here for five years and I'd never been to this event despite it being advertised in the library & town hall every year because I thought, it's just cows crossing a town on their way to their summer pastures, it's not that interesting—but I didn't realise that people turned it into a whole party, as people tend to do. When I arrived in town I found that a nearby field had been (temporarily) turned into a car park to accommodate the many, many visitors who came to see the spectacle—and I was like, maybe I've been missing out on something.

The town was festooned with tassels and garlands (some of the cows were also festooned, with big pompons on their horns) (festoon is a really great English word.) When I arrived there was a thriving little market with several cheese stands, because of course people would take this opportunity to sell their cheeses. They also sold bread, fruit, and cow milk-based desserts including ice-cream, so you were covered if you wanted lunch. (Unless you're lactose intolerant. I'm sorry.)

There were also folk dancers, and a contest going on where you had to guess the weight of an absolutely massive bull (see above). (My guess was way off, he weighed 1 200 kg!) There was a stand with a guy selling beautiful, framed photos of his cows. In one photo a cow was whispering something in her friend's ear. Nearby some prize cows were waiting to be paraded around and one of them was wearing a halter with a little heart <3

(I was invited for apéritif at a neighbour's house a few months ago, he's a retired farmer and he had old Kodak photos of his cows from the 1980s and 90s all over his house. He remembered their names and personalities.)

There was also a stand selling a dizzying variety of cow bells, and I've been resisting the temptation to buy a cow bell for five years now because, well, it's such a cliché tourist thing to buy, but I will probably end up buying one someday. It's hard to resist their allure. I'm not sure which of my animals will have to deal with the humiliation of wearing a bell for a few hours and being photographed cosplaying as a cow against his will.

(Definitely Pirlouit.)

I was buying an ice-cream and asking the vendor if the cows were fashionably late when finally, the herds started arriving. One herd would cross the town, with onlookers clapping and cheering (including from their balconies), then people went back to buying cheese and watching the dancers or the brass band, and commenting on the prize cows strutting on the plaza, then another herd would arrive half an hour later and children would run ahead to warn everyone "They're coming!" (kids love being sentinels) and people would eagerly gather again to clap and cheer as they walked past, and it went on like this all day. You'd think you might get tired of eating ice-cream and clapping for cows but no, people were still enthusiastic when the last herd came.

Imagine being a local cow, and every year when your owners take you to your summer pastures in the mountain you cross a town where people are eating cow milk ice-cream and clapping for you gratefully as you walk past, and buying cow merch (like bells) and admiring an exhibit of framed photos of you and your friends, and watching cow supermodels walking the catwalk on the plaza, and just as you think you've reached maximum levels of appreciation you reach the entrance of town and there's a lifesized statue in your honour in the middle of the roundabout. These cows must have such solid self-esteem.

[astraystayyh]

Israel doesn't want to repopulate Gaza, you loveable dummy

Seriously, find one Israeli on this site who'll say otherwise. And no, quoting Ben Gvir doesn't count (assuming you even know who that is) anymore than quoting, say, Rudy Giuliani would count for anything, even though he supposedly spoke for the president of the USA for a time.

Hamas has 136 hostages. Including women, and actual literal babies, assuming they're still alive, that is. This could all have ended weeks ago if they'd fucking returned them. Israeli society would physically march on Benjamin Netanyahu's home and remove him in a coup if the hostages were returned tonight. But as long as they have Israeli people, and are unwilling to negotiate their return, that's an ongoing war crime. Is Israel evil for being a bull in a China shop trying to get back a "mere" 136 innocent civilians? Maybe. But Hamas started this and they can end it, they just don't want to. Please, justify that.

Hello, since you asked for one Israeli, here, I'll give you multiple statements:

Hundreds of activists at an Ashdod gathering in late November called for the reestablishing of Jewish settlements. “Let it be known that you support the appeal to renew Jewish settlement throughout all of the Gaza Strip. The nation is waiting for you”— Yossi Dagan, head of the Samaria Regional Council.

Israel “should fully occupy the Gaza Strip”— Heritage Minister Amichai Eliyahu, of the far-right Otzma Yehudit party.

An Israeli real estate firm pushes to build settlements for Israelis in Gaza. “Wake up, a beach house is not a dream” reads the ad.

Israeli Knesset member Limor Son Har Melech posted a video of herself in a boat with other settlers off the coast of Gaza. “Settlement in every part of the Gaza Strip … A large, extensive settlement without fear, without hesitation, without humiliation. This land is the land that the creator of the world gave to us.”

Israeli Settler, Daniella Weiss says Palestinians who live in Gaza, have no right to stay in Gaza.

An Israeli soldier saying that Israelis should start “investing” in Khan Younis.

Also why would the words of Ben Gvir not count? He is an elected minister, his words hold weight and they expose Israel’s clear intent to make Gaza inhabitable for Palestinians so that Israelis could settle in there— by destroying the infrastructures, making the health system collapse entirely, bombing entire residential neighborhood, Israel is trying to ensure that Palestinians wouldn't be able to return back to their land, because there is nothing livable left there.

And I'm glad you bring up all of this ending if the hostages were returned— Hamas tried to strike up a deal for the return of ALL the hostages, in exchange of the release of all Palestinian prisoners. Israel refused. You know why? Because this has never been about hostages and their safety for Israel.

There is a reason why Israel shot its own hostages when it mistook them for Palestinian civilians, waving a white cloth. There is a reason why the IDF called to shoot indiscriminately on Oct. 7, knowing that it could kill some of the hostages too. Because Israel wants to kill Palestinians, to "thin out its population" (or maybe we shouldn't take into account the says and actions of Netanyahu too ://). This is why it targets schools and mosques and hospitals and ambulances and refugee camps. Israel knows that if it does get all its hostages back, then there would be nothing to “justify” its genocide in Gaza (although, as UN Secretary-General said : "Nothing can justify the collective punishment of the Palestinian people. The humanitarian situation in Gaza is beyond words")

Israel is the only reason why the hostages aren't fred yet. THEY are unwilling to negotiate the return because they don't want to stop this genocide. What good is a five days ceasefire only for the bombings to return? Do you even realize how psychologically traumatizing it is to have a countdown of when your massacre would resume? The only acceptable deal is for Israel to establish a permanent ceasefire, something that it refuses to do. The only one to blame is Israel.

And you say Israelis would instigate a coup to oust Netanyahu, that's nice, then what? Will you return the land to its rightful people? Will you give back Palestinians their rights unequivocally? Will you call for the dismantlement of Israel that was built on massacres? The reason why Israelis are angry at Netanyahu is rooted in the unresolved hostage situation. Just because you don't support Netanyahu doesn't mean that you aren't a zionist who finds the murder of more than twenty thousands Palestinians justifiable. A young girl had her leg amputated with no anesthesia on the kitchen counter of her home and you talk about “Israel being a bull in a China shop”? You consider the targeted attacks on civilians as careless actions by Israel? It actually astonishes me how inhumane some of you can be.

And here is what Dr. Refaat, who was targeted and murdered by the IDF btw, had to say about this matter:

Whether it's Netanyahu or someone else, it does not matter because Israel as a whole is an occupation, one built on the bloodshed of palestinians.

And it is funny how you choose to distort history whichever way you like it, to regard October 7th as an isolated instance that happened out of the blue. Hamas didn't start anything, Hamas was created in response to the indiscriminate and careless shooting of palestinian civilians in the first Intifada, that was decades ago. October 7th was a resistance to an ongoing colonization, Israel started this when it displaced and murdered palestinians on 1948. None of this would've happened if Israel did not colonize Palestine. It has been 100 days of this ongoing genocide, wake up and stop deluding yourself into a reality where Israel is the victim.

[radiant-reid]

Reunion

Summary: JJ never knew you were dating one of her teammates and that you broke up because of her, but seeing him at JJ's wedding years later changes things.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Angst then smutttt)

Content Warning: 18+ Smut (oral- f receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, a little bit of a breeding kink)

Word Count: 2.1k

"So, how's mystery boy?"

After skipping your usual Tuesday night plans twice, thanks to JJ being away on cases, you're finally back in your best friend's living room having a glass of wine and a cheese platter.

It's been an abnormal amount of time to go without seeing each other since you both ended up in DC after moving out of East Allegheny to different colleges. Even with men in the mix now, you both make it a priority to see each other as often as possible. However, her busy schedule and frequent flights to New Orleans have meant you've spent some time apart.

Unknown to her, she knows the so-called mystery boy. Very well, in fact. "He's well." You say slyly, unable not to grin widely.

JJ throws her head back dramatically. "Come on, Y/n! Some detail would be nice."

"It's good." You try again. "He's the sweetest. I'm very happy."

She smirks, letting you know an interesting question is coming your way. "How's the sex?"

It never takes more than a glass of wine for her to be that loose. You don't miss a beat in your answer. "Fabulous."

"Okay, so can I meet him soon?" She pushes like she has been for quite some time.

You wonder what she would think. What would her expression do if you were to say his name out loud right here? Maybe it's not that deep but getting with JJ's closest colleague is dangerous. It was a concern at the start, a reason not to start, but you fell in love with Spencer Reid quicker than you could ever imagine.

"Sure, JJ." You agree, trying to look positively about it. You can only assume she's thinking about the worst possible scenario about your mystery man. He's a criminal or he's far too old for you or he's an ex you promised not to get back with. There are too many options.

She looks triumphant. "Yes!"

You just smile, sending the conversation in a different direction by asking about her boyfriend. He sounds like a great guy and you can tell she's happier than ever before.

Three months ago you met Spencer Reid. It was JJ's birthday and your duty as her best friend to throw her a fun surprise party. That took some coordination with a friend from work. Firstly, that was Penelope, but in order to lure JJ, you needed Spencer Reid. He was a little slow with replying to your texts, but lovely. And after you met him, you were hooked.

Spencer was perfect. Gorgeous, funny, intelligent. His incredible shyness had you confused when he asked you out for dinner the next morning.

Too many espresso martinis provide an explanation for why JJ has no recollection of you flirting with him all night.

You see Spencer as much as you can, but similar to JJ's, his schedule often doesn't allow for consistent visits. So whatever time you do have, you make the most of it. He's still the most amazing boyfriend you've had. Kind, caring, witty, fun, and playful.

He gets whisked away on a case to Miami not long after being home. You didn't know things would be so different the next time you saw him.

He goes quiet on you. You know their cases are intense but you haven't heard from him in an entire week and that's not right.

Can I come over? He finally texts you and you're guessing he's back in DC.

It sounds a little ominous and the message sends a chill down your spine. Sure. I can't wait to see you. There isn't a reply and you sit in limbo in your apartment for almost an hour before he knocks at the door.

You smile when you open it, although you're slightly annoyed there was zero communication or ETA from him. "Hey, Spence, how was it?"

"You knew." He says in a cold, accusatory tone. It's nothing you've ever heard from him.

"Sorry?" You repeat, moving to the side so he can come into your apartment.

He steps in, barely looking at you. "About JJ and Will." He explains.

A little frown takes over your expression. Surely he's not angry that he only just found out. An awkward laugh leaves your lips. "Sorry, Spence. She didn't want anyone knowing."

"I'm your boyfriend!" He exclaims. "You're not supposed to lie to me."

"I didn't." You join the offensive, crossing your arms. You're not enthused about what he's accusing you of. It wasn't even your secret to tell him.

He looks disappointed, face dropping. "Come on." He sighs. "How am I meant to be with you if you don't trust me enough to tell me who our friend is dating?"

"It wasn't my secret to tell." You try to talk some reason into him, pushing down that sick feeling in your stomach telling you that he's breaking up with you.

Spencer shakes his head, his decision- as much as it's killing him- completely made. "I can't do this."

His words make your world come crashing down and you almost can't believe it. You slump to the couch while he makes his way to the door with sad, slow footsteps.

He's looking at you, waiting for you to ask him to say. "Can we not tell JJ?" You ask softly.

"Fine." That's the last thing he tells you before walking out the door, shutting it firmly.

That's it.

The last thing Spencer tells you.

Then he's gone from your life. You talk about him less to JJ and she picks up on what happened and stops asking about him.

You expect to see him when Henry's born, or even at a point in his life. Somehow, you don't. Your schedules never line up and then JJ switches jobs. There's a myriad of reasons but it doesn't happen. You both go on with separate lives.

And then JJ and Will are getting married. You get a frantic call from your best friend's soon-to-be-husband who whispers secret plans to you over the phone. It's perfect, you know JJ will adore the simplicity and elegance of a backyard wedding.

You're there as soon as you can be, helping set up Rossi's backyard so it's gorgeous for the most gorgeous person you know.

You're the maid of honor, of sorts. And you don't get a chance to ask who the best man is before JJ arrives and the ceremony begins.

You strike out as soon as you spot a tall brunette. A tall brunette who made you the happiest you've ever been with a man. And he's still just as handsome.

His eyes bulge when he sees you but he keeps a straight face and clenches his teeth while the ceremony continues. You're mostly focused on how beautiful JJ looks and how sweet their wedding is, but you can't help your mind drifting to Spencer.

You hadn't seen him dressed up like this when you were dating and the tuxedo is a perfect look on him.

"Y/n." He comes up to you when you're getting yourself a glass of champagne.

"Spencer." You reply. His tone doesn't let much about how he's feeling on. All you get is a glimmer of shock.

He stands against the table. "Maid of honor?"

You shrug, a little confused at his question. "You know, I'm surprised I haven't seen you all these years." You admit, letting some honesty slip.

"It was slightly intentional." He offers.

You don't let it offend you. "Best man?"

"I think that means we're supposed to sleep together."

You nearly spit out your sip of wine. There's no way the shy Spencer Reid you once knew just said that.

"We've done that." You reply, trying to keep a straight face after the out-of-pocket comment.

Spencer tilts his head to the side. "You're right."

You really don't know how it happens. Maybe it's a few too many drinks. There's definitely not enough alcohol in your bloodstream to solely blame that. Spencer Reid is as hot as they get. And it's been... longer than you're willing to admit since you've had sex. Even longer since it was good sex.

So there isn't anything telling you to stop when Spencer pushes you up against the door of a room in Rossi's house, lips firmly against yours.

Your dress is hiked up around your waist while his fingers trace up and down your thigh before he even thinks about locking the door. Both of you are far too wrapped up in the moment to think securely.

His hands are quick to the zip of your dress, sliding it down effortlessly and letting it pool at your feet. He takes a moment to look at you and you have to admit, you're a little worried about his reaction. You don't doubt Spencer Reid can pull beautiful women.

"God, you're gorgeous." He says softly, juxtaposing the way he's practically clawing your clothes off you.

"Are you going to compliment me or fuck me like you promised you would?" You ask him, waltzing over to the bed and sitting on the edge.

Spencer smirks at your smart mouth. "You asked for it."

He's kneeling on the floor in front of the bed in seconds, with no regard for his suit pants being wrinkled, just on his knees. There's a sense of urgency that doesn't allow for the time for him to take your panties off so he opts for shifting them to the side.

There's also no time to waste as his tongue melds with your folds, tracing patterns. No one has ever come close to giving head like Spencer does. It's truly mindblowing, the pressure of his tongue and the suction method he uses. You're instantly in bliss, head thrown back against the covers as you moan.

You've lost it when his fingers enter you, pushing past with little resistance. "Holy shit, Spencer. You're incredible."

"Sing my praises." He says against your pussy.

You do. Not even possessing the ability to be embarrassed about it.

And you don't stop. You're withering and moaning on the bed, tugging his curls while he continues pleasing you. Eventually, it's too much. His fingers pumping in and out of you combined with his tongue wrapped around your clit have you finishing in no time.

"Still as good as I remember." As if he couldn't get any hotter, he sucks his fingers into his mouth.

Spencer rises from his knees, now much taller than you. You tug your underwear off before unclipping your bra. "Fuck me, Spencer." You reach out for his belt buckle, toying with it. "Please."

Spencer has lost the shy, timid nature he had the first few times you had sex and he quickly takes off his belt and pants. Once his suit jacket is tossed across the room, Spencer pulls your legs to the end of the bed, making sure you wrap your ankles around his waist. His hands rest on either side of your head and you're precisely where you want to be.

"You're so hot." You tell him with a smirk.

He grins, spreading your legs and inching inside you. The look on his face is an instant confidence boost. Clearly, he's a man in bliss, head thrown back and tongue parting his lips.

"Fuck." He pants.

You agree, barely able to speak from how hard he's pounding you and how good it feels. Although it's annoying to admit, you've never had as good sex as with Spencer.

Your hands wrap around his forearms, noticeably bigger than last time. "Spencer." You moan. "Please. So good."

He caresses your chest, paying attention to your boobs like he hadn't before. "Y/n." He groans, not slowing his pace up. His hips snap against yours with each thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room. "Can I?" He asks.

It's unlike you to have even let him start without protection but you're not thinking straight enough. All you know is you need Spencer. "Please."

He finishes as deep inside you as he can get, leaning down to kiss you softly. You're breathless like he is when he flops down next to you.

One of Spencer's palms touches your cheek, forcing you to look at him rather than the ceiling. "Hey, pretty girl." He says softly and it makes your heart flip in a way it shouldn't. "Can I take you on a date, Y/n?"

The smile creeping onto your face can't be helped. "Yes. Please."

[changetyre]

Hope you're doing well, I didn't know your request was open!!

I'm not going to beat around the bush but could you write something like reader tease Oscar P in the shower and he fucks her from behind in front of the mirror??

If you're not comfortable with it, just ignore this request :)

It's so wrong but it feels so right II Oscar Piastri ⒽⓌ

SUMMARY: Oscar tried everything in his power to stay away from his teammate's younger sister despite her constant attempts at getting him to break...key word being tried.

WARNINGS: *18+* Not proofread

A/N: Yay another request and also the first Oscar fic here ;) Enjoy xx

"Yep." Your brother spoke on the phone. He was distracted enough that you knew you could have fun with the guy in front of you.

When Daniel had left the team last year you felt incredibly sad having grown close to the older man who treated you like a younger sister.

When Oscar arrived you saw the way your brother and him didn't truly connect at first like Daniel and him had done but little by little he started opening up.

And you kind of loved the shy and laid-back personality Oscar had so much that it attracted you in a way nothing and no one had ever done before.

The first time you'd tried to make an advance on Oscar he'd completely thought it was you just being overly friendly because you had drunk too much being that it was at a party.

But Oscar truly underestimated you when the following weeks you'd gone far and beyond to get his attention.

It wasn't that Oscar didn't find you attractive, it was the fact that you were his teammate's younger sister. Damn if you had any other last name he sure as hell would've responded to your advances ages ago but he couldn't do this to Lando.

Despite this, you still tried and you weren't going to give up. Oscar flinched, his knee hitting the table as he felt your foot slide from his ankle up to his thigh.

Lando turned to look at him weirdly but Oscar shrugged him off and Lando went back to focus on the call he'd gotten.

Oscar grabbed your heeled foot stopping it just as it approached his crotch. "y/n." He said your name in a warning tone which honestly only spurred you on.

"Ozzie..." you said his name teasingly in the same volume, your bottom lip between your teeth as you leaned forward on the table revealing a little bit more of your cleavage to him.

You saw the way Oscar's breath hitched, his eyes dropping between your breasts as his other hand caressed your leg, letting himself get pulled in by you.

"Okay, I'll be there in 20." Lando hung up snapping Oscar out of his trance.

"What's up?" You innocently asked as if you weren't just trying to get Oscar flustered.

"Something changed with the car settings and we need to go over the race strat again before tomorrow. I have to go." Lando gathered his things. "Oscar, do you mind driving y/n back to the hotel?" Lando asked.

"Uh, sure." Oscar hesitantly replied watching the way your mischievous smile grew.

"Alright, see you later." Lando hugged you not noticing the way you slipped your hotel room key into his back pocket before he went on to say a quick goodbye to Oscar.

Trying to keep control of the situation Oscar quickly asked for the bill after Lando left. He could hear the way you giggled thinking his nervous behavior was hilarious.

"Okay let's go," Oscar said as soon as he'd gotten his receipt.

You got up and quickly linked your arm around Oscar's as he led you both out of the restaurant.

You'd spent the car ride to the hotel making light conversation, Oscar obviously not missing your flirty remarks and the way you tried to bring your hand to Oscar's thigh repeatedly.

In the end, he was only able to stop you by taking your hand in his which you were very much pleased with as you thought he looked sexy driving with one hand while keeping a hold of you with the other.

Finally arriving at the hotel Oscar was more than relieved that this interaction was finally over since he could tell he was starting to lose control, his body felt incredibly hot with how touchy you'd been tonight and he'd constantly just had to remind himself you were his teammate's younger sister.

He led you to the door of your room which was right next to your brothers and consequently a few doors down from Oscar's own room.

"Oh." You faked surprise. "Hmm, I think Lando kept my room key." You commented.

"What?" Oscar panicked. "Are you sure have you checked your pockets?" He had no idea when Lando would get back and he knew he couldn't leave you out here waiting, with his panic he failed to notice the smirk on your lips.

"I don't have pockets Ozzie." you laughed twirling around for him to see your tight-fitting dress which lacked pockets.

Oscar cleared his throat nervously. "Right, uhm." He looked around as if he'd found the solution to his problem floating around somewhere in the hallway.

"Maybe I could just wait in your room?" You innocently suggested but Oscar knew damn well you were anything but innocent.

"Uh yeah." Oscar reluctantly agreed knowing there was truly no other option right now, but he also knew damn well Lando would be getting back to the hotel late...very late.

Walking into his room Oscar tried his best to keep a distance from you. "I'm gonna shower and uhm...you can sit somewhere," he told you as he moved around the room pointlessly trying to look busy.

"Okay, Ozzie." You chirped.

Oscar's head was running wild in the shower. He let the cold water run down his body hoping it would help the situation between his legs that he knew he couldn't walk out of the bathroom with.

But it was useless. Oscar felt like he'd been standing under the cold water for ages and his dick was still as hard as a rock, painful.

"You okay in there Ozzie?" He jumped at hearing your voice. He could see your outline through the frosted glass of the shower.

"What are you doing here?" He asked nervously.

"You were taking a while and my face feels gross so I wanted to wash it out...also my dress was getting uncomfortable." You replied nonchalantly.

The insinuation of this only made Oscar's member ache more. "What-What do you mean?" Oscar shut off the shower.

"Do you have a shirt I can borrow Ozzie?" You moved to the door of the shower.

Oscar's first mistake was turning off the shower, and the second was opening the door to peek outside. He caught sight of your almost naked figure now covered only by a black lace lingerie set that broke Oscar right then and there.

"Fuck you're impossible," Oscar muttered as he lost all self-control rushing out of the shower and immediately wrapping a hand around your throat bringing your face forward and capturing your lips into a sloppy, desperate, and rushed kiss.

"F*ck me Ozzie." You moaned at feeling his large dick slap against the inside of your thigh.

"Is that what you want...Is this what you've been waiting for you little slut." He whispered into your ear as his hand moved down to the lace between your legs running a finger across and noticing how wet you were.

"Yeah...yes Ozzie." Your breath shuttered feeling your body overwhelmed in pleasure at finally having Oscar the way you've wanted him for so long.

"Well, good job...you finally did it." Oscar stuck a finger in you without previous warning making you yelp in pleasure as he began thrusting it in and out of you.

He did this in an attempt to prepare you for him but after feeling the way you dripped down on his fingers he knew you were more than ready.

"Turn around." He turned you around manhandling you and lifted your legs up onto the bathroom counter so you were squatting on your knees, your ass just hanging off the edge wide open for him.

You could see Oscar in the mirror in front of you as he slapped your hole with his dick sliding it up and down your slit a few times to tease you.

"How the tables have turned." Oscar laughed as he felt you rub back against him trying to get him to slide into you.

"Please Ozzie, Please." You cried begging for him to do something already.

"what do you want hmm?" He teased as he pushed the tip in slightly before taking it back out.

"Please just put it in me already, I beg you." You whined to Oscar meeting his gaze through the mirror. "Just this once please." You were so desperate and Oscar loved to have regained control now.

He laughed but he was also desperate to get inside you so without further teasing he thrusted his full length into you. He felt your body trying to jump up at the sudden stretch but he held your hips down so you were unable to move as he began slowly thrusting in and out of you.

"Just this once." Oscar scoffed. "You're insane if you think this is the last time baby," Oscar spoke confidently as he kept slamming into you.

"Ah...fuck...so good." You cried, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you could feel that knot tightening in your stomach.

Oscar undid your bra with one of his hands while his other kept a tight hold of your waist making sure his pace was maintained. He almost came at the sight in the mirror.

Your nipples were pierced.

"Fuck you are a little slut aren't you," Oscar commented as he began playing with the metal on your buds.

This only increased the satisfaction in you. "Ah fuck Ozzie don't stop." You cried.

"Look at me." Oscar panted. "Look at me when you cum." He demanded grabbing your face to look into the mirror.

"Sh*t I'm close." You moaned as you felt your legs start to tremble.

Oscar sped up his pace wanting to join you in your release. "Cum, cum with me."

"Ah cum inside me, please." You cried and that was enough for Oscar to let go. He felt you squeeze around him as he began pumping you full your legs shivering as your orgasm washed over you.

Oscar stayed inside you as you both caught your breaths, you leaned back into Oscar's chest as he caressed your skin gently.

"Fuck that was-" Oscar was about to speak when you were both interrupted by a loud knock at the door.

"Oscar you in there?" You could hear your brother's voice.

You saw the way the color drained from Oscar's face.

"You better come up with something fast Ozzie, wouldn't want him finding out you just spilled inside his sister would you." You giggled.

[bluebeary-jay]

If I could hold you for a minute

Javier Peña x f!Reader

Summary: Javier wants nothing more than to go home to you. And thanks to his partner's generosity, he gets to.

Tags: just pure FLUFF, mayyybe a sprinkle of suggestive humor, established relationship, Steve teases Javi a bunch, Javier is a BIG SIMP (i'm serious)

Warnings: none ♡

Word count: 3.3K

A/N: something different for you guys 🙈 i'm sadly still on semi-hiatus because of my finals, but I managed to finish this little fic as a break from my angsty Joel pieces. i reaaaally hope you all will like it 😌💕 also, it's dedicated to my dumbass in crime @lily-inbloom 🫡😘 luv you babes

This was one of the worst days agent Peña had in a long time, and he wanted nothing more than to go home.

First, two people from Escobar’s inner circle managed to escape the raid on the laboratory in which he and Murphy participated, leaving both of them exhausted and frustrated. Then Melissa gave Javier a bunch of shit because of some documents, and on the way to his desk some asshole bumped into him, making him drop and break his phone. And now they had to stay after hours to wait for Carrillo.

“It’s for you, Peña.”

So yeah. His day was shit so far.

His pity party was cut short when Steve sitting across from him hissed his name again. Javier shot him an irritated look and flipped him off, not in the mood to talk to any informants or their superiors.

“Not now, Murphy,” he grumbled, but his partner still handed him the stationary telephone from their desk, ignoring the hostility radiating from the man.

“Just take it, asshole. She’s worried you’re not answering her calls.”

At that, Javi sat up straight and in a split second took the handset from Steve, pressing it to his ear.

“¿Querida?” he asked quietly, paying no attention to Murphy rolling his eyes and chuckling to himself. There was a sigh of relief on the other end of the line and he furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Hi, Javi,” your voice came through the receiver. “You weren’t picking up.”

Almost instantly the tension was lifted from Javier’s shoulders and he exhaled deeply. You had a talent of putting him at ease, even when you weren’t by his side.

“Lo siento, cariño. Some idiot broke my… you know what, it doesn’t matter. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just wanted to ask when you finish work? I can swing by and we can go grab some food on the way home.”

He sighed tiredly, rubbing his brows. He hated saying no to you and if he could, Javi would give you the world on a silver platter – but some things, he didn’t have any control over.

“No sé, cariño. We have a shitton of papers to read with Steve, and we’re waiting for Carrillo to fill us in on the latest action. I’ve got no idea how long it’s gonna take, sweetheart.”

Steve lifted his head and shot Javier a teasing look, but Peña ignored him, turning his chair to the side.

“Alright, so what do you say I’ll bring you some takeout? You can also ask Steve what he’d want, I’ll be at this place we went to a week ago–”

“No, querida, no,” he sighed, this time with affection. Your voice was a temptation enough to throw everything to hell and run home to you, but to hear the kindness and love in your words, without even seeing your expression… It was heart-clenching. “We don’t need anything, you just go back home safely. I’ll try to get away from here as soon as I can.”

You didn’t answer at first, but then hummed half-heartedly.

“If you say so. But please, eat something.”

Javi smiled absentmindedly, covering his eyes with his fingers. He imagined your concerned expression, the receiver nestled next to your ear, near the spot he so liked to nuzzle with his nose. “How do you know I haven’t already?”

He could hear a trace of a smirk in your voice.

“I know you, Peña.”

“Too well, I think.”

“You love it, though.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe.” He heard you yawn and the smile disappeared from his face. “You’re tired.”

“No, I’m not. I’ll get to bed when you’re back.”

“I won’t be home for at least a couple more hours, sweetheart,” Javi told you softly. “You can go to sleep.”

“I’ll wait for you,” you repeated stubbornly.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, cariño.” There was that sweet, teasing note in your tone, and a grin spread across Javier’s face again. “But that will just give you more reasons to come home quickly.”

“I’ll try,” he just offered in a whisper, resting his forehead on his fist. “Call Steve if anything happens, alright?”

“Okay, okay, I will.” Long since gone were the times you’d argue with him about that. You knew how terrified he was at the thought of losing you. “I love you, baby.”

“También te amo.”

He didn’t immediately hang up, waiting just in case you wanted to add something else. The line went dead, however, and with his lips pressed Javi put the phone back in the center of the desk.

“You have it bad, Peña.”

Of course. Javier should’ve known Steve will start to nag at him again.

He reached into his pocket for a cigarette and put it between his lips. He knew you’d complain about the smell on his hair and clothes when he got home, but he was already too stressed out and in a desperate need of a smoke.

“I’m not in the mood, Murphy,” he muttered, pulling out the lighter.

“I thought a conversation with your sweetheart would brighten up your day?”

Javier looked up and just as he suspected, Steve had that same stupid grin on his face, like every time the topic was brought up.

Ever since your and Javi’s relationship became more serious, Steve was taking every opportunity to tease his partner. If Javi was feeling generous, he could kind of understand where his friend is coming from – after all, he himself didn’t think he’d ever act like a dumb teenage boy in the presence of a woman. But something about you mesmerized him from the very beginning, and, miraculously, here you both were, in a steady and loving relationship Javier Peña was always afraid of hoping for.

But alas, it was not a day to be understanding. He glared at Steve when the fellow agent didn’t take a hint.

“Shut up.”

“I wouldn’t say no to a food delivery, you know,” Steve spoke up with a smirk under his mustache. “I’m quite hungry.”

“I’ll sooner hire Escobar to make you sandwiches than let her do it.”

“You wound me, Javi. And to think I was about to take care of Carrillo and let you go home early.”

Javier looked up in surprise at his friend’s knowing smile. Then he blinked, slowly and tiredly, wondering if he didn’t misheard.

“Really?” he asked suspiciously, to which Steve shrugged.

“Why not? I’m in no rush since Connie and Olivia are in Miami, and as funny as it is to watch you yearn and pine, your brooding gets annoying after a while.” Javi didn’t move from his place, so Steve nodded in the direction of the exit. “Just go home to her, Peña. Before I change my mind.”

The face of the agent broke into a smile before he could collect himself. He stood up so quickly that he bumped his hip against the desk, but it didn’t phase him one bit. With a quick shove across the desktop, he swept all the documents to the folder and took his gun from the drawer, tucking it into his jeans.

Murphy was watching him with a smirk.

“You owe me, Javi.”

“Sure,” his partner replied over his shoulder, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll get you a sandwich tomorrow.”

A quiet laugh followed him when Peña promptly ran out of their office.

*****

After the call with Javi you tried to find yourself an occupation, intending to stay up as long as you could. He was working like crazy lately, sometimes not even coming home for the night, so a chance to finally spend some time with him – even if it would only be for half an hour – was something you didn’t want to miss.

So you wandered around his apartment. You read a little, watched TV, tidied up the cutlery drawer, folded Javi’s shirts, and now you got onto washing the dishes left from your dinner two days ago.

You were humming quietly, that stupid song which seemed to play on every radio as of late, when you heard a small sound from the hall. You paused and turned off the tap, your heart pounding in your chest, and sure enough there was it again – but this time you clearly recognized it as a key turning in the lock.

Before you could think of what to do, the door opened and Javi came in, locking eyes with you immediately. You blinked slowly, rooted to the spot with your hands lifted, still covered in water and soapsuds.

“Javi?” you asked in surprise. “What are you doin–”

Without saying a word, Javier came up to you in two long strides and put his hands around your waist, dipping you back and kissing you deeply. You made a noise in your throat, moving your wet hands aside, but then sighed contentedly as his lips caressed yours.

“I missed you, cariño. So much,” Javier murmured, not moving further away from your lips than two millimeters apart. “Couldn’t wait to get home to you.”

“But what about– Steve, and…” you tried to ask during those brief moments when he gave you a second to take a breath, but was unable (and unwilling) to move away when he was holding you so tightly.

“They’ll be fine,” Javier murmured, moving his hands to your cheeks to cradle them tenderly. “Steve said he’ll handle it.”

He firmly pressed his lips to yours one more time, his eyebrows scrunched with affection. You didn’t ask anything else, instead wrapping your arms around his neck, still careful not to get his clothes wet. After almost a minute of tender kisses and whispered Spanish phrases, Javi rested his forehead against yours with a content sigh. His eyes were closed and he just hummed when you nudged his nose with yours.

“You weren’t supposed to be home for the next few hours,” you said quietly.

“It was a damn torture. I couldn’t wait, hermosa,” he murmured and exhaled heavily. “God, I needed this.”

A bright smile spread across your face at the thought of this man thinking about and longing to see you so much. He sounded so stressed out and tired over the phone, but now it was like all nerves left him for just a moment.

“Do you want me to make you something to eat?” you asked in a whisper, but Javi shook his head.

“No. Just stay here.”

“I have to rinse the dishwashing liquid off my hands, though. And you need to take a shower.”

“Are you saying I smell?”

“A little. But I mostly mean the cigarette smoke on your hair.”

Javi sighed, murmuring something under his breath. You gave him a peck on the lips. “Go on, cariño. I’ll get everything ready and then we can lay down.”

Javier grumbled, displeased, but didn’t argue any further. “You’ll have to make it up to me, sweetheart.”

“If you manage to keep your eyes open.” Your comment made him crack a smile and you mirrored it. “Go shower. And then come back to me.”

Javi sighed but obediently went towards the bathroom, putting down his aviators and the gun on the table on the way there. You watched him fondly, your heart still swelling with love at how relieved he looked to see you. He must’ve felt your attention on him, somehow, because he turned around in the doorway and sent you a smirk.

“If you like the view so much, you can hop into the shower with me,” he teased, and you hummed, pretending to consider it.

“I would, but then it wouldn’t be a ‘quick shower’.” He smiled knowingly, and you scrunched your nose at him. “Javi, the longer you stand here, the less time we’ll have for cuddles.”

“You raise a good point, hermosa.”

With one last look he disappeared in the bathroom and you shook your head at his antics. A few seconds later you heard the sound of rushing water, so you hurried to your shared bedroom to get everything ready.

You pulled down the blinds and flipped the pillows to the colder side, and then swiftly changed into one of Javier’s shirts you liked to sleep in. You also took his gun from the table, knowing he preferred to have it within reach when he was resting with you.

Earlier that day you started to clean the cupboards, so the room was pretty messy. You spent a couple of minutes putting the piles of clothes and various knick knacks in their places, trying to be as quick as possible. Then you heard the water in the bathroom stopping, and it only took Javi two more minutes before he emerged from the bathroom in nothing but his boxers.

His hair was wet and chest bare, and exhaustion was marking his handsome features, painting shadows over his face. Without a second of hesitation Javi went up to you and wrapped his arms around your middle. You wanted to say that you’ll be done in a moment, but didn’t get a chance – he hid his face in the crook of your neck, grumbling tiredly, and started dragging you backwards to the bed. You swat at him with laughter, but those strong arms of his just held onto you tighter.

“Cariño, I still have to finish–”

“Leave it. You don’t have to do anything.”

“Javi…”

“Come lay with me, mi sol.” He softly pressed his lips to the sensitive skin on your neck, making you shiver. You felt him smirking. “Come on. Please.”

You faltered at this word, so rarely used by him. He sighed into your shoulder and swayed you two gently from side to side.

Javi was right. Everything else could wait.

You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles gently, feeling him relax behind your back.

“Alright,” you murmured. “Come here, baby.”

He hummed and kissed your neck again, then your shoulder, sneaking his hands under your – technically his – shirt.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you look in my clothes?” he asked quietly.

“Every time I wear it.” You felt him take a breath, but you beat him to it. “And don’t say they’d look even better on the floor.”

Javi chuckled and hugged you tighter, still slowly moving backwards with you. “Not this time. Just wanna have you in my arms.”

“You mean in your bed?” You couldn’t help but tease him, and yelped when he bit your neck lightly.

“Don’t tempt me.”

When you two reached the bed, Javi stopped and slowly turned you around before sitting down. You took his face in your hands, staring down at him lovingly, while he gently ran his palms up and down your thighs. He did look tired, with the exhaustion and sadness swimming in his beautiful dark eyes. After a moment he exhaled shakily and leaned forward, resting his forehead on your stomach.

“Wanna lie down?” you whispered softly, and he nodded without a word. “Okay. Come here.”

You gently released yourself from his hold and laid down, immediately reaching for Javier and tugging him to lay on top of you.

The moment his head touched your chest, Javi exhaled heavily with relief, closing his eyes. You ran your fingers through his hair, brushing the wet strands aside.

“Do you need anything?” you asked quietly, but he just muttered 'no' with a light shake of his head.

“I’ve got everything I need right here, querida.”

You grinned warmly, though he couldn’t see it. “You’re quite a romantic, Javier Peña.”

He chuckled under his breath, lifting himself slightly to meet your adoring gaze. “I thought you already knew all about it.”

“Did I?” you asked playfully, to which he lifted his head.

“What more can I tell you?” he murmured, leaning over you and smirking when your breath hitched in your throat. His brown irises danced across your face, drinking your features in. “Do you wanna hear how all I think about while working are your lips and the sound of your laugh? How the time spent together isn’t nearly enough for me to fully revel in you? Or…”

“Okay, that’s enough,” you said sheepishly, making Javi grin victoriously. “You’re probably spending that time in the office not thinking about me but of ways to mess with me.”

“Tal vez, mi sol.” He pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth and moved lower, whispering into your skin. “But I do wish I could spend more time with you.”

“I know, cariño.” You brushed his hair to the back with your fingers, scratching his occiput. “But it’s not your fault.”

He hummed without conviction, still busy kissing every inch of your skin he could reach. One of his hands went to your waist, his thumb tracing small circles there, while the other climbed up to your hand, entwining your fingers together.

“Didn’t you want to get some rest?” you asked breathlessly, trying to keep your composure. Your face was hot, and Javi hummed smugly at the pitch of your voice. He lifted his head and brushed your cheek with his knuckles, his hand still holding yours.

“I wanted to spend time con mi hermoso sol.” He touched his forehead to yours lovingly, gazing deeply into your eyes. “I was serious when I said you’re all I need.”

“I think you need some sleep, too.”

Javi grumbled, seemingly giving in, and kissed you sleepily one last time. His eyes were already closing and his mustache scratched your skin lightly.

“No, querida. Just you.”

*****

The next morning, Steve came to work to the sight of Javier trapping you with his arms against his desk. He was leaving soft pecks on your lips every once in a while – so unlike the Peña Murphy had known before – murmuring something to you with a smile, causing you to giggle, too. You tried to slip out of his grasp, but Javier just pulled you closer. The pair was obviously lost in the moment because neither of them noticed Steve, until he threw a pile of files onto his desk.

“Morning, guys,” he said nonchalantly, eyeing your bashful beam and Javi’s crooked smile with a smirk. He noted that his partner looked way better than yesterday. “D’you get any sleep?”

“Actually, I did.” Javier gazed over at you and squeezed your hand with this look of a lovesick puppy that Steve mocked so often. “Don’t remember the last time I’ve slept so well.”

“Happy to hear it, because we have a lot to do today.” He sat down and began organizing the notes from Carrillo’s report yesterday, wanting to fill his partner in as soon as possible. He heard Peña sigh.

“Of course.” He glanced up to see the other man stand up and kiss you lovingly – once, twice – before you lightly shoved him back onto the armchair. Steve rolled his eyes when Javi brought your hand to his lips, leaving one last lingering kiss, and then finally letting go of you.

“I’m gonna be late because of you,” you accused him, but he only smirked.

“Lo siento, cariño. Have a good day.”

You said your goodbyes to Steve and turned back to the exit. Murphy shook his head and met his partner’s dark eyes, sparkling with adoration.

“You really have it bad, Peña.”

He didn’t receive any answer, so he just smiled to himself and got back to arranging his desk.

He didn’t get a second of peace, however, because suddenly a paper bag was dropped on the documents he was just filing. Two – a bit squashed – sandwiches were peeking out from the brown paper.

Steve lifted his head, ready to throw another teasing comment, but Javier’s eyes – still full of that raw love – were focused solely on your figure leaving their office.

*****

querida - dear/darling

lo siento, cariño - I’m sorry, darling/honey

no sé - I don’t know

también te amo - I love you, too

hermosa - beautiful

mi sol - my sun/sunshine

tal vez - maybe

[potterrstar]

do you miss us? ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

sirius black x fem!reader

summary: james wants to ask lily out, but she can't because she's always with y/n, so sirius decides to help him a little, that means spending a little time with his ex girlfriend.

warnings: a lil bit of angst! and then fluff! sirius and reader used to date, and a lot of jily!

word count: 2.5 k

a/n: hi everyone, hope you are doing great, this is literally my first post ever! i'm excited but at the same time i find everything super weird, i'm trying to settle in so i'm sorry for any mistakes, i hope to improve!

───❃•❃•❃───

Sirius was a bit fed up with James if he was honest, not to be misunderstood, he adores James with all his heart but he just wouldn't shut up about Lily. The worst part was that he wouldn't ask her out, he could talk about her all day but he wouldn't make a single attempt to ask her to Hogsmeade or anything.

"I understand how much you like her, Prongs, I just don't understand why you don't ask her out, it doesn't have to be anything exotic, you know?" Sirius fiddled with his wand, sitting on the couch in the common room.

"Because she's with y/n all the time! Lily's never alone, I can never get to talk to her, you know, alone" James sighed dropping his body into the chair at the table.

Y/n. It was even a little hard for him to think about her, they hadn't ended in the worst possible way, it just didn't work out the way they would have liked it to in the first place. They had only broken up a couple of months ago, sometimes he thought he missed her, the times he didn't miss her it was because he convinced himself that he didn't, but however! They were still friends… Or something like that, at least he hoped so.

"Well, interrupt them, I don't think y/n would mind you stealing Lily away for a bit" Sirius rolled his eyes.

James plopped down at the table, giving an exaggerated sigh "This is it, we're never going to date, or get married, or have kids, or-"

Sirius interrupted him laughing "What are you talking about? Calm down mate, it's not as bad as you think" Sirius got up, sat down next to James and gave him a little pat on his shoulder "Look, at the weekend we're all going to Hogsmeade, there you can buy her a drink or go for a walk, yeah? You're not finished."

───❃•❃•❃───

It was already the weekend! You were extremely excited as you hadn't been out to Hogsmeade for weeks, there had been so much homework and exams lately that there was no time for anything. An outing like this was a huge respite.

"Look, sour popsicles! James used to give me these in first year" Lily showed you the little colourful lollipops. Just now you were in Honeydukes buying sweets out of hand. It was going to be Marlene's birthday soon and you wanted to throw her a big party.

You gave a little chuckle. "Yeah, let's take those too" You thought it was a bit funny how much Lily talked about James, she did, even if it was unconscious, James here, James there! It didn't bother you though, it was nice to see her denying it.

"What are you laughing at?" Lily asked you with a frown.

"Oh! James used to buy me these! He's so cute! I want to marry him!" You mimicked her laughing.

"What are you talking about? I never said that, I don't even talk like that! Pretty bad imitation of you, huh?" Lily was completely offended, which again made you laugh.

"Oh, hi, James!" You said looking behind Lily, as if James was there, which he wasn't. You just liked to tease Lily.

Lily turned around quickly, arranging her hair, nervously. "Where did you see him? I can't find him." Lily searched for James with her eyes.

"Come on, Lily" You said laughing as you gave her an obvious look.

Lily turned to you, noticing your stare. "Oh leave me alone." Lily's gaze dropped a little, which worried you a little.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel bad." You patted her shoulder a little in apology.

You played this way with Lily all the time, it never bothered her, you don't know what her sudden sadness is about.

"Don't worry, it's not that, it's just- I don't know, do you think James likes me? I mean, I know he always jokes about it, but he's never tried to go out with me, we've never even had a conversation alone."

"Lily, are you kidding me? All of Hogwarts knows that James Potter has an absolute and complete crush on Lily Evans" You laughed a little, which caused her to laugh too. "Come on, Li, don't be put off by that! He's probably even around, all of us students came, I don't think he's the exception."

Lily smiled gratefully at you "You're right. Thank you, sweetheart."

Suddenly, James appeared behind Lily, this time in earnest.

"What's up, Potter?" you greeted the brunet, not to mention that your ex-boyfriend was standing next to him.

"Listen, Y/n, I don't think it's funny a second time," Lily demanded.

"A second time of what?" James asked behind Lily, giving her the fright of her life.

"James!" Lily shrieked. "Lily!" James shouted back, imitating her.

As the two of them frolicked around as they always did, you shared a couple of glances with the black-haired boy next to James. You examined him a little better, you hadn't seen him in a couple of days, he was wearing his white shirt with the first few buttons open revealing a bit of his chest, he had half his hair up, a little longer than he had when you were done, his eyes looked greyer than they normally did. He looked good. He always did.

"Hello," you said, giving him an uncomfortable look. It was a little hard to meet those eyes that were once yours.

"Uh, hi…" He responded in kind. He was having a hard time seeing your eyes, which were once his.

You don't know at what point Lily and James ended whatever conversation they were having, but Lily turned to you. "I'm doing some shopping with Y/n, sorry" Lily apologised to James.

"But Y/n doesn't mind, do you?" James said looking at you, you looked back at him wanting to know what the hell he was supposed to be talking about. Maybe, just maybe, you missed a lot in the pale boy in front of you.

"Umm, sorry I- I wasn't listening" you stammered a little looking at them.

"James was just telling me that, if we could go to The Three Broomsticks, but you know we're buying Marlene's birthday stuff and I don't want to leave you alone" Lily said looking at the floor.

You realised that this was the opportunity Lily had been waiting for a long time. "Are you kidding? It's fine, it's perfect, don't worry about me, we don't have much shopping to do anyway." You told them with a smile.

"See? Everything is fine," James looked at Lily.

Lily analysed the situation, it was clear that she wanted to go out with James, but leaving her friend didn't sound like a viable option. "No, James, I'm sorry, I really don't want to leave her alone." Lily said somewhat sadly.

Sirius, on the other hand, also saw the situation. He knew Lily wasn't going to leave her friend shopping for things on her own, and he also knew how depressed James was going to be for the rest of the month if Lily turned him down for the one way out he had risked asking her. He thought about staying with Y/n, not that he wanted to of course, but it was for the greater good, it was definitely for that, he was only going to help his friend, it had nothing to do with him.

"Maybe-" Sirius suddenly spat and everyone looked at him "Maybe I can stay with you" He turned to look at you and you felt your heart skip a beat. Stay with you? Just today was the first time you'd been with him in the same room for more than ten seconds without running out since you broke up. "I mean, to help you finish shopping, after all Marlene our friend right?" Sirius tried not to make it sound like he needed to spend time with his ex-girlfriend, which he kinda did.

Lily and James smiled "Actually, it does sound good" Lily said with a bit of hope and James felt his soul return to his body.

You were paraplegic, saying yes meant spending, Merlin knows how much time alone with your ex-boyfriend who you're probably not over, but it also meant that Lily could finally go on a date with the guy she liked and the truth is that didn't sound bad at all, I mean, you knew how excited she was about that and there's nothing you wouldn't do for your best friend, even go shopping with your ex-boyfriend, why not?

"Sounds good" You gave a genuine smile "I hope you're good at picking out candy" You joked to Sirius.

"I think I am" Sirius gave you a wink. You felt yourself turn a little red.

"Thanks Y/n, I promise I'll make it up to you, I love you!" Lily said as James led her out of the tent. You laughed a little at this and Sirius mimicked you.

"I really hope they get married because I can't stand it anymore" Sirius rolled his eyes and that made you laugh.

"What?" You asked him as you looked at the shelves of candy.

"James!" He expelled as if he was taking a weight off his shoulders "I swear to Merlin that's all he talks about!"

"Is it that bad?" You looked at him, you watched as a couple of strands of hair fell across his forehead, you felt the urge to move them, but you couldn't, not anymore.

Sirius rolled his eyes "You doubt it? The worst thing is that I'm the only one he tells, Remus and Peter are smart enough to ignore it."

You laughed "Poor thing, Sirius. He's just very much in love."

Sirius sighed "Well, I was never like that."

You gave him a somewhat sly look, wondering if Sirius ever talked about you like that with James.

Sirius immediately caught your gaze and stumbled a bit over his words "I mean- Not that I wasn't in love like that- Just that I never bothered him that much about it- Not that it bothered me being in love with you- you know." Sirius cursed inwardly, it was kind of funny, he thought of himself as a confident person, somewhat boastful even but when it came to you, all of that just disappeared.

"Don't worry, I get it" You smiled a little "I think I used to annoy Lily a lot" Remembering when you first liked Sirius.

"Did you?" he asked curiously.

"Quite a lot. I hope she wasn't that bothered" You laughed a little.

Sirius smiled "I don't think so, how could you ever bother anyone?"

You rolled your eyes "Don't do that" You said to Sirius.

"Do what?" he laughed, feigning innocence.

"That thing you do, you're flirting with me, don't do that." You smiled.

"I'm not!" He defended himself offended "I'm just telling the truth, which is different."

"Shut up" You rolled your eyes smiling. For a moment you felt everything like it was before, and for a moment you wished everything was like it was before.

Sirius relaxed his face a little "I mean it, you genuinely are the most interesting person I know, I don't see any way for you to annoy or bore anyone."

You felt a bit of tension in the air so you made a little joke to ease it "I know I'm the best thing you ever had, you don't have to tell me."

Sirius laughed "Hey don't you think that's enough candy?" he said looking at the bag you were carrying, you didn't even realise how much you were carrying from talking to him.

"Oh Merlin, you're right, more than enough, let's go pay."

You and Sirius walked over to pay, so you took out the money you had counted with Lily yesterday, you paid and you walked out of the shop, Sirius helping you with the bags.

There had been a freak snowstorm at Hogwarts a few days ago, even though it was the middle of June. Professor McGonagall at first thought it was a prank by the Marauders, eventually she found out it wasn't them as James told her that they didn't play pranks on that silly level. Then she found out it was a prank by some Hufflepuff second graders, honestly you found it funny, they couldn't reverse the spell so we had to wait a couple of weeks for the snow to stop.

"What should we do? I honestly don't think James and Lily are done." Sirius looked at you.

"Definitely not, I think we should head back to the castle so we can take advantage of Marlene being around and I can hide this well" You smiled at him.

Sirius nodded and took off his coat and placed it on top of both of you so you could get to the castle without getting covered in snow, on the morning you went down to Hogsmeade the storm wasn't this bad.

You grabbed the edge of the coat next to you to cover yourself better and discovered the initial of your name embroidered with red thread that you had made a couple of weeks after you started dating Sirius. A small smile escaped your lips.

This little thing of embroidering your initial on his stuff came about as a silly joke that people would realise he belonged to you, obviously you didn't mean it, but he didn't have a problem with it, so he embroidered a couple himself.

"What's up?" Sirius asked when he saw your smile.

With a small smile you showed him the edge of his coat.

He rolled his eyes with a smile. "Leave it."

"Why didn't you take it off?" you asked curiously.

Sirius frowned "Why should I?"

"I don't know, because we broke up?"

"So?" He turned to look at you. "Just because it's over doesn't mean it wasn't real, you're the realest thing I've ever had."

You stopped walking and looked at him "Sirius, you don't mean that."

"Of course I do" He stopped as well, he picked up his scarf and showed you the corner, where your initial was also and his ring, which on the inside he wore it as well.

" I take you wherever I go." He said to you with a nostalgic smile.

"Do you miss us? Because I feel your absence wherever I go." You asked him directly, feeling your soul leave your body.

Sirius dipped his hand into your neck and you felt your neck crawl.

You smiled "Just to confirm? Will you tell me?"

Sirius moved to your lips and kissed them tenderly "More than you can imagine." He murmured against your lips and kissed them again.

"This is great" You smiled and moved the strands of hair that were in the way of his forehead. "I've wanted to do that since I saw you."

Sirius laughed against your lips. "I have to cut it" Referring to his hair.

You let out a gasp. "Are you mad? You cut your hair and we're done again I swear."

"We're done again?" Sirius repeats. "Does that mean we're boyfriend and girlfriend again?" Sirius asks with a grin.

"Absolutely. Any problem with that?" you smiled back.

"Never" Sirius grabbed the back of your neck and kissed even harder, careful to never let go again.

Though if he did, he'd always take you with him anyway.

[reiderwriter]

Unhappy Holidays

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆

Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors dni, enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).

Prompt Request: #50"You're so fucking obsessed with me.” #82"Really? Because your pussy is saying something different, sweetheart.” #93"Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

A/N: This is my first submission for @imagining-in-the-margins November/December Office Party writing challenge! I'm sorry I've been so busy recently, but the holiday season really does take a lot of effort to get through at work lmao. Hopefully, I'll be able to post more over my vacation! For now, enjoy some very unserious smut~♡ (as if I write any other kind).

Here's a link to my masterlist, where you can find all my work!~☆

Working with the FBI was no walk in the park, which, from your desk at the opposite corner of the bullpen, Spencer Reid sure made it look like.

Working on adjacent teams for the last three years had become gradually infuriating. You were forever in the man's orbit, stuck dealing with the other women on your team sat giggling about him and his many stupid haircuts, and wondering just how far you'd fallen to have to stare at his stupid face 5 days a week.

If you were unlucky. His team did happen to be out on cases a lot more, whereas yours handled correspondence and consulting cases, a cushy and safe job.

It annoyed you to no end that you had multiple field-based qualifications, extensive fire arms training and were top of your class at the academy only to be relegated yo desk duty whilst boy wonder with his doctorates was allowed to trip over his own feet catching actual killers.

Other people wondered where your dislike of the man sprang from, and you could only let out a disgruntled squeak and tell them your horror stories.

A few months into your job, your been fresh faced and bushy tailed or however that saying goes, and overly eager to take any assignment that came your way. Even if the assignment was baby-sitting an injured Doctor Spencer Reid. He'd been shot whilst out on a case whilst trying to talk down an unsub, and you'd jumped at the chance to get to know him.

He was an office legend, of course, though those days it was more for his characteristic lack of social graces rather than the beauty he'd grown into. You'd been so eager to get to pick his brains, find out how he'd managed to score the position on the BAU at such an early age.

Reality had hit you square in the face when he'd spent a week ignoring you, making you run around like a headless chicken searching for hard copies of documents the FBI had digitised a millennia ago, and hadn't so much as spared you a glance.

The straw that broke the camel's back came as you were running back to him triumphant with a document he'd requested eight hours before and had let yourself into Penelope Garcia’s office quietly, only to hear him bad mouthing you.

“She makes me uncomfortable. I've had her out searching for useless files all day because I don't know what to do with her.”

“She's trying to help, Spencer, it's her job right now, cut her some slack.”

“Her job is currently getting in the way of mine. I even tried writing my own doctor's note so I could get rid of her, but Hotch wouldn't allow it.”

You'd dropped the file loudly on the table, watched the two spin around with horrified looks and turned silently and left the room.

He hadn't once tried to find you after that, and you let your apprenticeship under Doctor Reid quietly fizzle out as you got back to your regular work.

Your resentment still burned though.

Each time you'd been caught in the same elevator with him, you'd ignored him to an almost insane degree, enjoying the way he squirmed and tried to make small talk.

You'd been in contact with JJ and his Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner as well, through cases you'd recommended, but always maintained your cold shoulder.

The one place you could not ignore him, however, was a Penelope Garcia party.

After you'd slammed the file down on her desk, Penelope had guiltily sent you a gift basket filled with sweet treats and books, and had hounded you for a week to make sure your feelings weren't too damaged by her friend's stupidity.

You actually liked her, and found at least one silver lining to the storm that was Spencer Reid ripping through your life.

In the three years since the “incident,” you'd found yourself at three parties where Penelope in all of her heartwarming ways had tried her best to force a reconciliation between the two of you, to disastrous results.

The first was a Halloween party, and you'd been incredibly proud of your Princess Laia costume when you'd arrived. Only until you'd gone to the kitchen to top up your drink to hear Spencer Reid boring some guest or the other about how Star Trek was more advanced, and had a richer plot line.

Penelope had stepped into the kitchen just as he'd caught a glimpse of your (rather skimpy) outfit - yes, you'd chosen swimsuit Laia, yes, you were going to own it - and had immediately jumped into introductions, as if you weren't already intimately acquainted.

“Spencer! This is Y/N! She loves Halloween, too, she makes all of her costumes. You guys should talk.” She'd led the other guest away and left you there with Spencer as you'd awkwardly looked upon his own costume.

“Are you the Tenth Doctor?” You asked begrudgingly, noting his pin-striped suit and the shorter hairstyle he'd chosen.

“Are you a fan? I prefer the original show run more than the current stuff, but David Tennant has really been doing a wonderful-”

“I'm sorry, let me stop you there. I don't watch Doctor Who. I guess I prefer something with a… How should I say, richer plot?”

He'd snapped his mouth shut and didn't have chance to open it again before you turned dramatically and walked away from him.

The second party you'd been cornered into was just over a year later.

Having been stuck in the office over Halloween, Penelope was determined to get in one last celebration before Christmas steam-rolled every other holiday, and thus you'd been invited to her single-people-only-friendsgiving-potluck, and you'd found yourself having to navigate knocking on her door with a casserole dish in your hands.

Luckily a large hand had appeared from behind you and knocked on the door for you. Unfortunately, the sudden shock from the silent appearance of a man right behind you startled you so much that the dish fell straight from your hands anyway.

Penelope opened her door upon hearing the crash and you whirled on your would-be attacker.

It was Spencer again, eyes round in shock, hand still curled into a fist.

You took a calming breath as you gathered yourself, trying not to bite his head off. You wanted to scream and shout and rip his head out but you didn't, instead letting the fury drip into your voice as you finally opened your eyes again.

“That dish took me four fucking hours to make.” You huffed in anger once more as Penelope guided you into the apartment and poured you a glass of wine before you moved back to the entry hall to clean it up again.

Needless to say he didn't care to converse with you after that.

A few small parties in between had been blissfully Spencer-less and you'd lulled yourself into a false sense of security. That's when you accepted the Christmas party invitation.

As one of the unlucky few members of the FBI who had to stay out over christmas in case of some emergency or the other, you'd been grounded in Virginia, unable to travel home for the holidays. So Penelope Garcia's singles-only-Christmas-fun-time-Party was your last ditch effort to spend the holidays actually resting and eating good food.

Learning from last time, Penelope reassured you that there was no potluck, that she had prepared all the food herself, and all you'd need were a bottle of wine and a willingness to party.

You'd taken those recommendations as law and had immediately let yourself into a glass of mulled wine as you arrived, and - noticing that the party was Reid-free - had allowed it to raise your Christmas spirits slightly more than you usually would.

By hour two of the event, you were full of yuletide joy and swaying freely along to the tune of Silent Night.

Spencer’s late entrance really would have gone unnoticed by you had you not bumped face first into his chest as you spun yourself around in your dance, his hands quickly falling to your hips to steady you.

The few moments it took you to gather yourself were about as long as you needed to realised that he'd caught you in his arms underneath the mistletoe. And with your mind fogged by mulled-whatever-it-was-Penelope-mixed-into-that-punch, the part of your brain that objected to the very existence of Spencer Reid went silent, and the incredibly tiny and somewhat damaged part of your brain that instead saw him as attractive started shouting loud instructions.

Before your common sense could return, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss the very warm, very close man holding you upright.

“Mistletoe,” you muttered as you clawed his arms off of you and took yourself straight to Penelope's bathroom to throw up.

So yes, your acquaintance with Spencer Reid had never been good, and you were perfectly fine with resenting him from afar, privately.

With three years of bad experiences under your belt, you weren't excited at completing your yearly tradition of horrendous interaction. Which is perhaps why you immediately and loudly protested Penelope’s New Years Eve party invitation.

“Y/N, it's a party. What's the worst that can happen?” She pleaded as she followed you down the corridors of the office building.

“I could see Spencer Reid. I could be forced to converse with Spencer Reid. I could get absolutely wasted and kiss Spencer Reid. There, three options, please accept my resignation from partying.”

“Y/N we both know you don't drink anymore, so at least one of those is unlikely to happen. And Spencer might not even come, he has tickets for an indie theatre from 6pm onwards, they're playing some Russian movie from the 60s that's like 4 hours long or something. So u retire yourself and tell me you'll come?” She had to take three or four steps for each of your own, not that you were so different in height but because you were practically marching in order to avoid the topic.

But you finally stopped and let out a sigh as you turned back to Penelope who stopped just before she ran into you.

“You're sure he won't be there?”

“I'm sure he RSVP’d no.”

“Fine. But I'm not drinking and I will still be expecting the Penelope Garcia virgin punch experience.”

“Bring the party poppers and you have a deal.”

“Done.”

–X–

Over the week since you'd accepted the invitation, you'd made peace with it. For the most part, you did love a Penelope Garcia production. There was something wonderful about your friend and her ability to brighten anyone's mood, an ability that was only heightened at holidays. She was like a glittered goddess gaining power when worshippers used her altar, except the altar was her house and the worship was a range of hallmark-induced holidays.

You arrived at the party at 10pm, and though that was the start time you'd been given, you weren't surprised to see a full house of Penelope’s team mates already in attendance. Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss sat spread across the sofa in the living room area, and you noticed a few techie friends also grabbing drinks and chatting.

“Y/N, I'm so glad you're here! You remember everyone on the team, right?” She pulled you into a hug and then sat you down in the middle of the group, waiting for you to mingle and become comfortable before she ran off to more hostess duties.

“Of course, nice to see you guys.” You grabbed your promised punch and sat back comfortably, striking up a conversation with Emily about how bleak the dating scene had been recently.

“It seems like all the men around me are jackasses,” Emily muttered and you giggled along.

“I'm wounded,” Morgan shot back, a hand pressed to his chest in faux pain.

“Good. You're like a lion out there in the clubs stalking gazelles, it's like watching a nature documentary when you're out there.”

You almost snorted your entire drink up your nose as Emily finished, needing to compose yourself for a second.

“I guess the men on our team aren't great with romance,” JJ laughed and took a swing. “Hotch and Rossi have four divorces between them, and Derek here is a lost cause.”

“Our only hope is young Spencer. May he grow into a respectful young gentleman and break out curse,” Emily toasted.

“Oh that ship has sailed,” your laugh this time was bitter, your mood immediately growing sour with even the smallest mention of Spencer Reid.

“Ah, Penelope mentioned you had a problem with our boy wonder. Care to share?”

You opened your mouth to give your standard non-answer and move the conversation along, but you were interrupted.

“Yes, Y/N, care to share? I am slightly curious about that as well.” You turned around and there he was, and your stomach turned in disgust.

Just one time, just one party. You'd been having fun, and here he was to ruin it.

“What are you doing here?” you gaped up at him, unsurprised to see him still decked out in sweater vest and slacks even in his down time.

“I was invited.”

“You declined, Penelope said you had movie tickets.”

“Ticket, singular. And it was cancelled so here I am. What's your problem with me, Y/N?” His jaw clenched and he grabbed the back of your chair and leaned down. It was supposed to be intimidating, but you rolled your eyes. When he looked that attractive, veins in his arms popping out of the sleeves he'd pulled up, you couldn't see him as intimidating. His arms were distracting yes, but God that was nothing compared to his thighs. His pants were tight, and you thanked whatever Clueless tailor had sewn them, because you now allowed yourself a momentary lapse to enjoy the appearance of his lower body.

You tried to shake the thought of his attractiveness from your mind, reminding yourself where you were and in what company.

“I don't think I need to answer that. I think I'll enjoy holding it over your head instead,” you said, standing up and beginning to gather your things.

“Wait, Y/N, where are you going? New Year isn't for another 30 minutes.” Penelope scrambled over and grabbed your hand, pleading with you to stay.

“I'm sorry Pen, but there's just this very annoying bug buzzing around me, and I think I need to get away from it.” You said your goodbyes and excused yourself from the party, happy to have walked away relatively undamaged.

Fate had other plans, and as you stepped out of the apartment building ready to walk yourself home, a hand caught yours from behind as a voice chased you.

“Y/N, wait. I'll go. You go back inside.”

“And return with my tail tucked between my legs after making a grand exit? I'll pass, thanks boy genius.” You shook yourself from his grasp and made to walk away again, but he quickly matched your pace and stepped into your path, cutting you off.

“I can't let you walk home. It's like 40° out here, and your coat is more style than substance.”

“Get into a car with a stranger? I'm sure you of all people know how stupid that sounds.” You stuck a finger out and poked his chest, but he grabbed your hand and held it in place as he spat out his next words.

“I'm not a stranger, I'm the man you're obsessed with, Y/N. Big difference.” You laughed, mostly in shock at his indignance, but he stared at your face as serious as could be.

“Me? Obsessed with you? I'm not the one who followed a woman they're barely acquainted with out of a party filled with all of my friends. Sounds like you're projecting, Spencer.”

“Am I?” He questioned, stepping closer and grabbing your hip as he continued his questioning. “I wasn't the one who was sat there talking about me with all of my colleagues.”

“Well, I wasn't the one who turned up to a party I'd declined an invitation to.”

He was imperceptibly close now, hand gripping your hip so tight you wondered if it'd leave you with a mark.

“I certainly was not the one who initiated a kiss last year, Y/N. You need to face the facts, you're so fucking obsessed with me.” If his hands had you feeling dizzy, his words were completely knocking the sense out of you. Suddenly you returned to the person you'd been under that Mistletoe, and everything from his closeness to the rough edge to his voice begged you to do it once again.

“Go fuck yourself,” was about all the words you could manage as he finally let his lips fall down and crush into your own.

You should've pushed him away, but instead your traitorous body wanted to prove his point, opening up for him faster than you'd opened up to anyone else before.

His tongue flicked against your lips and you gladly let him explore your mouth, opening up to tangle your tongue with his.

He tasted sweet, like the punch Penelope had handed you earlier, only now you wondered if someone had accidentally laced it with how free you were being with your affections.

He resurfaced for air, but you didn't care if there was nothing in your lungs at all if it meant that his lips would engage your own in battle once again.

“Look how much you want me,” he smirked. “Look how needy you are after a single kiss, chasing my lips like that.”

“You and your big fucking mouth. I wish you'd shut up once in a while.”

“I'll make it my new year’s resolution.” His lips joined your own again, and you clashed hard, exploring as much as you could muster as he pulled you in the direction of his car.

“I'm not driving… home… with you,” you growled between kisses, trying not to put your teeth to his neck and bite down hard. You're not sure if that impulse was a murderous one or a kinky one.

“I'm not putting you in the front seat, Y/N, I'm putting you in the back. You should be familiar with the idea.”

Heat sparked between your legs, and you allowed yourself to be manhandled into the beat-up trash heap of a car.

He'd not taken his hands off you as he got you in, pushing himself in first and then pulling you by the hand that you'd unconsciously gripped hard. You immediately straddled his hips, skirt naturally riding up in the process. He noticed and looked curiously down at you, growling as you pressed your lips against his neck and grabbed you instead by the hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of your head.

“See, you're obsessed with me. Just admit it.” Without breaking eye contact, he dug his fingers into the material of your tights and pulled in opposite directions, leaving your underwear exposed to his wandering eyes.

“I'm not obsessed with you,” your voice needed conviction to land, but it came out as a lusty whisper, especially as he slipped his fingers inside your underwear and finally touched your aching cunt.

“Really? Because your pussy is saying something else, Princess.” He found your clit faster than you'd ever expected, rubbing slow circles into your skin as you began rocking your hips back and forth.

It was becoming hard to disagree with him, with each flick of wrist growing the heat between your legs. You attacked his neck again, hands practically ripping at his top buttons so you could muffle the sounds of your arousal against his neck, collarbone, chest, any stretch of that pale skin available to you.

He forced your hips to a stop with one hand as he slipped a single digit inside of your hole, gathering your arousal as he set a steady pace, thumb keeping your bundle of nerves occupied.

“Listen, Y/N, can you hear that?”

“I can't h-hear anything.” You had to grind your teeth together to get the words out with minimal interruptions of moans bursting from the pit of your stomach.

He leaned in close to your ear, nuzzling your neck and placing chaste kisses up towards your ear, finally pulling away just enough to whisper a single word in your ear.

“Liar.”

His hand stilled and pulled off you quickly and your eyes broke open, hands unconsciously fitting into his shirt as if you were worried he was going to leave you there like this, on the edge of pleasure but still so far away.

“Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

“Jackass. You've only been here for like 20 minutes.”

“You can climb right out of this car if you want to, Y/N.” He tried to keep his tone light, but the death grip he had on your thighs, the very obvious tent pitched in his pants and the way his eyes couldn't go five seconds without undressing you told you you had more power in this interaction than he wanted to give you.

There was no way either of you were letting the other go unused tonight.

You relaxed your grip on his shirt and shifted your weight to one of his thighs. Lithe he may be, but lowering yourself down there was an unexpected strength there. He watched on curiously as you rocked experimentally against him. Back and forth you rocked, trying desperately to keep up his momentum or tempt him to help you out again.

It was time to let your voice back out, and you did, moaning without a care as you hummed his leg like a bitch in heat.

“You're enjoying this lot, huh, Y/N,” he muttered, and you watched as his hand worked his pants zip open, removing one of the barriers in the way between the two of you, as he began palming himself.

“What's that saying? Anything you can do, I can do better?” He growled at that response but didn't stop you. Instead he bought a hand down on your ass as you moved, so hard you jolted at the sudden pain. Your eyes shot open as your hips stilled, but you felt warmth grow between your legs.

“Yes, you definitely enjoyed that. Should I do that again, or do you think we should hurry this up and go back up for the countdown?”

You hesitated only a second before you pushed his hand off his lap, shifting your hips further towards his knees before letting your hand reach for where his had just been.

You didn't let yourself think about how big he was as you pulled his cock free, didn't let yourself wonder how he measured up against anyone you'd been with before. You didn't let yourself waste time thinking about how various office rumours were true, and definitely not a second was wasted feeling jealous about how those rumours were spread in the first place.

Instead you simply slammed your lips back against his, mouth opening to let your tongue engage his as you lifted your hips with his help and lowered yourself down on him.

You didn't have to rid yourself of sinful thoughts after that as he purged every single brain cell from your head, filling you so contently that there was simply no space for anything but him.

You locked up on top of him, clawing at his shoulders as you whimpered at the stretched, falling so he was balls deep inside you. You wanted to move, to use him for your pleasure, but your walls tightened every time you even thought about it as he stroked your hair through it all.

It had been some time since you'd last had a sexual partner, and you needed the few minutes to overcome the first uncomfortable bliss of it all.

“That good?” he whispered, but the harsh tone of earlier was gone, replaced only by unsure humour to break the silence.

“Been a while.” He nodded, kissing you again to distraction as he shifted your positions.

Cradling your neck and securing your legs comfortably around him, he lowered you against the backseat, pulling out slightly as you adjusted to the new angle.

“Better?” You nodded quickly, because it was. There was no more pressure on your legs, and despite the cramped space in the car, you had enough space to lie almost flat.

“Yes… thank you.” Just as his cutting tone had escaped him, you also heard your own tone softening, the sigh of contentment slipping past your lips almost sweet. Almost.

“Are you going to fuck me now, or what?”

He let out a shocked laugh, but lent down to shut you up with a kiss nonetheless. Bracing himself against the car door, his hips softly rocked into you, pace increasing until you were back to the edge of cumming, nails pressed hard into his skin until you were sure he was going to complain.

He didn't though, but kept up his thrusts, until your vision suddenly darkened and stars exploded in them, rolled back in your head as they were.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, where should I…?” He panicked, but you wrapped your legs around him, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down to swallow his moan as he shot his load inside of you.

“Birth control.” You whispered when you finally let him go, gasping for air. “Contraceptive pill. No need to get the car dirty.”

He collapsed on top of you then, forehead resting against your own as you both caught your breaths.

The moment was silent, and you found the synchronicity of your breaths almost calming. Eventually you had to break apart, and he helped you up to a sitting position, but didn't break eye contact as fell back into his lap.

His hands stroked your back, dipping to your ass at times, but he didn't talk. Neither of you did.

The eye contact between the two of you was possibly the most pleasant conversation you'd ever had.

“I'm sorry.” He blurted, just as fireworks erupted into the night sky. Your heart shook, and you weren't sure of it was the shock of the sound, or the way the rainbow of lights illuminated his sincere expression.

“You don't have to apologise for cumming in me, Spencer.”

“Not that. Before. The casserole and the mistletoe, and the Halloween costume.”

“Wow. Um, okay. Apology accepted, I guess, though I'm not entirely sure why you're apologising now.”

He took a deep breath just as another set of fireworks went up.

“I pulled you under the mistletoe. It was Penelope’s idea, she knew how stupid I was being around you and sent me over. I saw it and took the chance.”

“Fuck. Why?”

“Because I was pretty useless at being chivalrous the year before.”

You climbed off his lap in a scramble and sat on the seat beside him, mind racing, trying to figure out where the hell he was going with this.

He turned to you, trying to keep your attention as he stumbled over the words.

“You couldn't knock on the door, so I wanted to help you, but I didn't think I'd scare you so much you'd drop it.”

“You didn't scare me it was a momentary lapse in my observational skills.”

“You shrieked,” a smile threatened to pull his lips up, they twitched as you flushed red.

“And Halloween?” You looked at him again now, trying to figure out what the hell was going on between the two of you.

“You refused to look at me for a year after we stopped working together,” he shrugged quickly running a hand through his hair and expelling a breath. “I don’t really know how to talk to women.”

“You just know how to piss them off?”

“Morgan says it comes naturally.”

“Yeah, well, Morgan is very wise.”

A brief silence stretched between you, or as silent as a night full of cracks, pops, whizzes and bangs could be.

“I don't get it. You tried your best to get rid of me when I was there to help you. I wanted to impress you, and you kept sending me on meaningless errands, and now you're saying what? You wanted my attention?” There was a quiet anger to your voice, but you were surprised to find it diminished and tired.

“I wanted you gone because you were distracting me, Y/N, not because I hated you.”

“Well, what's the difference, Doctor Reid? Please indulge me.” You huffed a little but kept your eyes on him, trying not to seem too desperate for his answer.

“I have an IQ of 187. Emily says when I'm around a pretty girl it's more like 52,” he fidgeted with his pants, forcing the words out.

“You're a pretty girl. We had a case to work and all I could think about was how to get you to like me. Hotch chewed me out like three separate times for being absent minded.”

He was looking anywhere but you, trying his best not to appear like a fool but you were locked onto him.

“Oh my god you're an idiot.”

“When you're around, yes.”

“And that means I'm equally stupid.”

“No, you just jump to conclusions and hold grudges. There wasn't anything really that stupid about your actions, though it could be suggested that not thoroughly thinking through the wording of the conversation you overheard-”

You cut him off with a kiss, pulling him down again mlby his tie.

“Oh my god, shut up,” you whispered as you broke apart.

“Does that mean we can do this again? Because I'd like to do this again?”

“Stop talking, start kissing jackass.”

He finally didn't argue with that, pulling you back into him as you sat under the stars in his car welcoming the new year.

[appocalipse]

see for yourself ⋆ sirius black

summary: after a party, you tell sirius how you ended things with the guy you've been seeing because he was a bit jealous of your friendship with him. sirius shows you that maybe he was right to be.

"You're in a good mood."

Sirius looks at you from his place on the floor and grins, wild and boyish. It makes your stomach do flips that you'd rather not think about too much, lest it leads to things you really shouldn't be thinking about.

"Must be your charming company," he says before looking back up at the ceiling, fingers laced behind his head.

He's laying spreadeagle on the hardwood floor, staring up at the slowly rotating fan and taking occasional swigs from an open bottle of Firewhisky beside him. Everyone but Remus, with whom Sirius shares the flat, had already gone home hours ago, leaving only you and Sirius behind in the living room.

You roll your eyes even though he can't see you doing it, setting your empty cup on the coffee table. You lean back against the sofa and fold one leg up under the other so you can turn to face him fully. "Remind me again why you're not sitting on furniture like a normal person?"

"It's more fun down here." He turns his head enough for you to catch his wolfish grin. "Care to join me?"

"Oh no," you laugh, shaking your head. "I should be getting home anyway. It's late."

Sirius frowns and pushes himself up into a sitting position. The look in his gray eyes is equal parts amusement and disappointment. "On a Friday night? Come on, love, we're barely tipsy. Besides, you still haven't told me what happened between you and that wanker you were seeing."

"There's nothing to tell," you shrug.

He scoffs as he crawls across the floor towards you. You bite the inside of your cheek when Sirius hoists himself onto the sofa beside you and pulls one leg up to his chest. There's a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth that doesn't seem quite as innocent as you'd like it to be.

"He looked pretty pissed off when he left," he says, twirling a long strand of your hair around his index finger. "What'd you say to him?"

"I didn't say anything. And we were together for barely three weeks. I was just...he wasn't the right guy, okay? Now shush."

You make a halfhearted attempt to turn away from him, but Sirius laughs softly and rests his head on your shoulder. "You don't say."

"Sirius."

"What? I'm glad you didn't waste any more time on that tosser. He would never have made you happy."

"How would you know?"

Sirius lifts his head and leans back far enough to look at you. His expression is one of smug self-confidence as he says, "Because I know everything."

"Everything, huh?"

"Everything."

You quirk an eyebrow. "Well then, what am I thinking right now?"

His eyes flick down to your lips for a brief moment before they find yours again, but it's enough for heat to rise in your cheeks. You could swear he starts to move closer before he blinks and turns away with a dry laugh, but by then you're not so sure anymore. "That you're bored of talking about this dolt."

The ache of disappointment in your chest must be almost palpable, because Sirius furrows his brow and asks, "Is everything alright?"

"Yup."

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

Sirius gives you a knowing look and shifts on the sofa to face you more fully. His knee knocks against yours. "Don't tell me you're hung up over that berk."

"Not in the slightest."

"Liar."

"I'm not," you insist. "Really."

"Did he break your heart or something? I'll break his arm."

You laugh, though you doubt Sirius is actually joking. "Nothing happened. He was just jealous. That's all."

He frowns, then narrows his eyes at you. "Jealous of who?"

"Oh, you know, the usual suspects," you say lightly, waving a hand as if to dismiss the topic completely. But when Sirius remains silent, you let out a slow breath and (as you usually do when it comes to him) give in. "You, mostly. He said some stuff, and I didn't take too kindly to it."

A wry smile spreads across Sirius' face. He looks delighted. "What'd he say about me?"

"Seriously?"

"Absolutely."

With a dramatic roll of your eyes, you rest your head back against the cushion behind you and say, "He thinks you, uh...you know, fancy me or something. That we spend too much time together. But I told him that he's crazy, obviously."

"Obviously."

The following silence bothers you.

You turn your head enough to see Sirius' face. He's staring back at you, an unreadable expression on his face. Then, after several moments of more tense silence, he whispers, "What if I do fancy you?"

"Sure you do," you mutter, rolling your eyes again.

Sirius places his palm on top of the hand resting between the two of you and brushes his thumb over your knuckles. "I could show you."

It takes a moment for you to register the offer.

"Did you drink more than I realized?"

"Just enough for the liquid courage to work."

Your tongue feels like sandpaper. "Sirius."

"Mmhm."

"Stop being ridiculous."

"Who says I'm being ridiculous?" he asks, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a light kiss to your skin. "Maybe I'm madly in love with you. Have you considered that?"

You swallow, trying to ignore the way your stomach is doing somersaults. "This isn't funny, Padfoot."

"It's not supposed to be funny."

"But—"

He cuts you off by cupping your cheek and leaning in close enough for you to feel his warm breath on your lips. It smells of Firewhisky and mint. "Kiss me and see for yourself."

"You must be drunk."

"Only tipsy," he reminds you. "Or maybe a little drunk on you."

"You know, you're not half as funny as—mmph!"

He's kissing you. Sirius is kissing you, and dear sweet Merlin, you could swear that the world's tilting beneath you as his hands pull you closer. He hums contentedly when he feels you reciprocating, cradling your face between his palms as if to make sure that you won't go anywhere.

Not that you intend to.

It's the kind of kiss that steals your breath away. The kind of kiss you can lose yourself in without even realizing it, especially when one of his hands slides into your hair, and you moan involuntarily into his mouth.

Sirius laughs breathlessly against your lips as he eases you down onto your back. His fingers dance along your jawline before he curls them under your chin, tilting your head back and kissing his way down your throat.

"I think this went better than expected," he murmurs, pausing long enough to gently bite down on the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder. You gasp.

Sirius sits up suddenly. His hair hangs in front of his face like a dark curtain and his eyes glitter with amusement when he pushes it back. Your pulse jumps when you see the slight redness of his lips and the hint of mischief on his face. "Don't tell me you're getting shy now."

"Shut up."

He leans down and kisses you again, groaning low in his throat as your hands slide up the broad expanse of his back. "I'm starting to think you fancy me, too," he whispers, words ghosting over your mouth.

"Yeah," you admit sheepishly, sliding your hands up and over his shoulders. "I may have been lying earlier. It's not that crazy."

"May have?"

"Fine, I did lie."

"I knew it."

He looks far too smug. Just this once, you don't really mind.

[dollfacefantasy]

greedy ♡

satoru gojo x fem!reader x suguru geto

you and satoru get greedy and break the rules. but suguru's there to teach the both of you that there are limits for a reason.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, overstimulation, daddy kink/ddlg, dacryphilia

a/n: part 1 <3

Quiet. When Suguru hung up the phone, that was all he heard.

The house had been so quiet lately, but to be clear, he was not complaining. After the little lesson he taught you and Satoru a few weeks ago, the two of you had been getting along much better. There was bickering here and there, but he was much more gentle with you and you were less likely to get upset from his teasing. He could actually leave the two of you alone now without the worry of your whines ringing through the house or Satoru's cocky laughter permeating the thin walls.

The two of you were alone right now. He'd gotten a work phone call that unfortunately couldn't wait. It was supposed to take fifteen minutes, but the other party's incessant rambling dragged it out to over an hour. He was done now though, and as soon as he clicked that little red button, he felt relief flow through him. He could return to his two favorite people now.

He's quick to return to the bedroom. On the way there though, he hears some whining. Not the kind that had been filling up the house when you and Satoru were at each other's throats. This was needy and breathless.

Pushing open the double doors, his eyes immediately lock on the two of you. You were on your back, Satoru on top of you and between your legs. His pale body was on full display from behind. His muscles rippled as he thrust into you, soft enough to not make the bed creak. He had your legs pinned up by your sides and his face in the crook of your neck.

Suguru clears his throat. He sees your eyes snap open to meet his. The look on your face told him that you knew you'd been caught red-handed. Satoru doesn't even raise his head to look at the other man. His guilt shuts him up and traps him in a rare moment of silence. His hips reluctantly come to a stop, but they tremble with the need to keep driving into you.

"I can't leave the two of you alone for one hour without you breaking the rules? I expect better," Suguru says, breaking the silence, "I'm happy you're getting along, but that's no excuse to start fucking like little rabbits the second I leave."

That wasn't a lie. Suguru was pleased with the progress between you two. This wasn't about jealousy or some other petty qualm. Had he come back to Satoru eating your pussy or humping your leg, this wouldn't have been an issue. But you both knew the rule. The rule was that Satoru was not allowed to truly fuck you without Suguru being present.

Rules were essential to this dynamic. You and Satoru needed them. Each of you craved them, yearned for Suguru to enforce them on you and keep you in your place. So that was what he was going to do.

"Daddy we didn't mean-" you start timidly, but Suguru cuts you off.

"You didn't mean to? You didn't mean to let Satoru shove his cock inside you? You didn't mean to whine for more?" he taunts, "What about you Satoru? Look at me when I'm talking to you."

You feel the warmth of Satoru's breath leave your neck as he pulls his head up. He drops your legs and rises to his knees so that he can turn his head to face your shared lover.

"We're sorry," he says, sounding more sheepish than you, "I'm sorry. It was my idea. She's just so... she's so soft... and warm... and I'm sorry."

"Oh I'm sure you are," Suguru chuckles as he walks further into the room. He stands at the end of the bed. The tense air in the room makes it seem as though he looms over the two of you. "You're so sorry you didn't even pull out."

Neither of you had a response for that one. Satoru was in fact still buried balls deep in you right now. He couldn't pull out when your velvety walls were still fluttering around him, providing him the most muted form of pleasure.

Suguru knows his words have rendered the both of you temporarily speechless. He shakes his head with a mocking smile on his face before walking a few more paces to the recliner in the corner of the room.

"Well don't let me stop the two of you. I wouldn't want to intrude," he says.

But it's a leading tone. You know it's a trap. It's some crazy reverse psychology shit that you can't figure out fully while full of Satoru's dick.

"Daddy..." you whimper while peering at him around the white-haired man's torso.

"What?" he asks you, "I'm giving both of you want. Go ahead. Enjoy yourselves."

You want to protest more. As good as it felt physically, something wasn't right about this. Satoru doesn't seem to hold the same suspicions as you though because his hips resume the pace they had before Suguru walked in.

He drops back on top of you, his chest flush against yours, smooshing your breasts against his sweaty skin. His head falls back into the space where your neck connects to your shoulder. Your worries are quick to scamper away from your mind to make room for the pure bliss brought on by his thrusts.

Each stroke into your slick embrace brings a grunt out of him and a mewl out of you. Your arms lazily drape around his neck as he rocks you into the mattress.

"So fucking good, baby," he mumbles against your flesh. You can tell he's trying to be quiet, to keep the praise from Suguru's nearby ears.

He continues pumping in and out, back and forth in a rhythm fit to hypnotize you. His pelvis connects with your ass too many times for you to keep track of. All you know is that you never want it to stop.

After a little while, you're getting close. You hadn't been too far away before Suguru walked in. Satoru can feel you tightening up around him, and he's not faring much better. He has his plush, pink lip between his teeth. His pretty blue eyes look up at the ceiling as if thanking whatever higher power there was for bestowing him with you.

His fingers dig into the warm dough of your thighs. You're reaching that peak, but you can feel Suguru's eyes on you. You can feel his dark gaze baring into you and the man on top of you. Whatever his plan was still lingered, like a panther in tall grass waiting to strike.

"Daddy... can I cum?" you whimper and catch his eyes over Satoru's shoulder. You had to prove you were still a good girl. Nothing was right in the world if Suguru was mad at you.

"Do you even need to ask me? You didn't feel the need to ask before you let Satoru spread your legs," he responds. It's short and simple. Cut and dry. You feel the urge to squirm out from under your one boyfriend to rush and plead for forgiveness at the feet of the other.

But you don't because Satoru starts hammering into you harder, chasing the high for both of you.

"Toru," you whimper and cling to him tighter.

"I know, princess. Me too," he mutters.

Only moments later, the both of you are twitching messes of moans and whines. Satoru fucks his cum deep inside of you, and your pussy milks every last drop out him. He doesn't stop moving until he feels he has none left to give.

When he is done, he collapses on top of you. He feels like some kind of weighted blanket, keeping you secure against the smooth sheets and soft pillows. You nuzzle him lazily while he pants in your ear. The situation is so comfortable, it lulls you into a sense of security. You almost forget the fact that you're being closely observed. That is until the one observing you pierces the silence.

"Pull out of her, Satoru," he states simply.

Without a word of protest, he obeys, leaving you empty as he unsheaths himself from your dripping cunt.

"Now, baby girl, I want you to lay on your tummy with your head at the end of the bed," he directs.

You also follow the orders with no resistance. You snake around your lover's lanky limbs and get in the position he wanted. You're facing him now. There's no escape from his watchful eyes.

"Good girl," he says. It's simple though. Not affectionate enough to make your chest swell with the feeling that you did something right. "Satoru. Stick it in her again."

Satoru had already been a bit flushed, but his cheeks tinge an even deeper shade of pink now. "What?" he asks.

"You heard me, baby boy. I want you to slide your cock into her again," he repeats.

Satoru's brilliant eyes blink with confusion. He strokes his cock, still glistening with the remnants of your release, to try and get it half hard. He had good stamina, so it wasn't a huge issue.

"My babies acted out for a reason, right? Not just because you're needy brats I’m sure," he mocks, "I need to make sure the two of you get your fill. We don't want this happening again, do we?"

The both of you shake your heads. Suguru chuckles at the seemingly synchronized motion.

Satoru climbs back on you and mounts you again. You whine as his lengthy shaft fills you up for the second time. He slides it all the way to the hilt with ease. You were still nice and ready from your last round.

He doesn't wait to start thrusting. The tight fit of your cunt around him gets him to full mast in no time. He falls into a similar rhythm as before, his hips bouncing off your backside with timed precision.

You tug his forearms closer so that he's boxing you in. He nuzzles his face into your neck again and keeps in there to muffle some of his whimpering.

Glancing upwards, your gaze meets Suguru's. It's unwavering. He doesn't smile, doesn't coo at you or encourage you. He watches. He waits for you and Satoru to start hitting that peak again.

It's not too long before he gets what he's waiting for. The both of you were still sensitive from the last time you came. Only a handful more strokes and Satoru is draining himself again, filling you up for the second time.

Like last time, you're both breathless and limp, melting into one another. Your skin is sticky with sweat, both his and yours. You squirm a little to signal for him to get off, and he's about to. But then Suguru speaks again.

"Don't even think about pulling out," he says.

You both look at him. It's starting to become clear what he had in mind.

"You don't pull out until I say, and now is not that time. You're gonna wait until you're hard again, and then you're gonna fuck her again."

"But daddy-" you start to whine.

"None of that," he says, his tone sharp as a blade.

It shuts you up in an instant. Even the normally chatty Satoru has nothing to say.

There's a brief pause between everyone for the moment, but then you feel it. You feel the push and pull of Satoru's body starting up again. You whimper and drop your face into the blankets.

He starts slow this time, but Satoru's needy by nature. He can't keep himself from pistoning into you at a certain point. His lower half ricochets off yours while he keeps a bruising grip on your hips. Strangled whines burst from you with each pump while his noises flow in a constant stream.

He ruts into you on the bed until he's cumming again, but Suguru doesn't give him the ok to pull out. He simply signals to go again. And Satoru does. He fucks you again. And again. And again. Until the both of you are absolutely cum drunk.

You'd stopped counting how many times he'd brought you to the height of pleasure. Your pussy was aching now, throbbing with the desire for peace rather than the need for release. You aren't too sure how Satoru's doing considering he's melted down into a whiny mess behind you. He doesn't even need Suguru's direction anymore. He can't stop fucking himself into your cunt.

Tears roll down his glowing cheeks and quiet sobs leak from his lips.

"So good, baby. So so fucking good," he whimpers, "This pussy's all I need."

You whine in response and claw at the blankets beneath you. Tears are building on your own lash line from the white hot overstimulation of your insides. You sniffle. You had the safeword, but you couldn't bring yourself to use it. This was the most pleasurable pain on earth. The sweetest spot between heaven and hell right in your bedroom.

"This is what you get for being greedy babies," Suguru chides. He palms himself while still sitting in the recliner. A bulge had long-since formed in his pants from watching the two of you go at it. But as he made you two give in over and over, he held back.

"We're sorry, daddy," you cry, tears finally spilling on your face, "Shoulda listened to you."

"You're right. You should've," he smirks.

Satoru huffs in your ear, a sign that he was going to cum again soon.

"Too full," you whine and writhe under him, "Can't take anymore, Toru."

He simply whines against you and tightens his grip on you.

"S-sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, fuck baby," he whimpers, "You're a good girl. Such a good girl. Taking my cum. Gonna make it up to you."

He sobs as he shoots inside you again. You don't know how he's not firing blanks at this point. His body shakes with the torturous euphoria in the pit of his belly. It makes him pause and just lay on top of you as he rides it out.

You think this might be it. This has to be the last one. But Suguru still doesn't say anything. You cry into the blankets as Satoru begins to roll his hips on yours again. It's slow and reluctant at first, but soon enough, that needy rutting is back.

"Harder, Satoru," Suguru grunts from the corner.

Satoru's head bobs up and down in a sorry excuse for a nod. Running on fumes, he thrusts into you harder. His tip batters into your abused sweet spots, his balls slapping against your puffy clit.

More sobs and tears pour from you. "Daddy, please," you cry and look up at Suguru with bleary eyes, "I'm sorry. Please daddy. I'm a good girl. I'm sorry."

Suguru's eyes flutter, and he has to tilt his head back to regain his composure and stop himself from cumming in his pants on the spot. Once he's got it under control, his eyes return to you.

"You can be a good girl, babydoll. Keep taking Toru's cock. You're almost done. I promise," he says.

"Noooo," you sob and your face falls again. You reach out as if Suguru could save you, as if he wasn't the driving force behind Satoru, "Daddy, please!"

You continue wailing into the blankets, and Satoru's eyes roll back. He's panting like a dog, tongue hanging out of his mouth and all. Whines echo from him as if on a loop. His eyes screw shut, and he slams into you particularly hard before he loses some consistency and grows more erratic.

"Sugu- fuck- Daddy," he corrects himself, "C-can't go anymore. Hurts."

"It does hurt when you don't listen to daddy," Suguru agrees, "Keep going."

He whines and drops back down on you. He shoves his face against your skin and takes a deep breath. His long arms snake around you and hold you to him like a toy. His hips jackhammer into you with the hope that this was the last time.

You're pretty sure you black out with your next orgasm. You feel the spark of ecstasy between your legs, and then you see stars. Literally. Your vision goes white and then your eyelids shut to a dizzying burst of colors.

You can vaguely hear Satoru losing it in your ear. You sort of feel him drooling on your shoulder. You don't remember feeling if he cums or not. You feel him limp on top of you and then hear Suguru speaking distantly.

The next thing you know, a hand is sweeping over your forehead.

"You with me, sweet girl? Are you ok?" Suguru's voice coos in your ear.

Your eyelids are heavy, but you manage to crack them open. The first thing you see is Satoru passed out next to you. Above him is Suguru. The only response you can make for him is a whiny babble. You extend your arms for him, and he indulges you this time. He scoops you up and brings you to rest at the top of the bed. He gives Satoru the same treatment next.

Finally, he climbs into bed, letting the both of you curl up to his sides. Satoru's cheek is squished on his pectoral muscle while you rest on Suguru’s bicep. His eyes look just as fucked out as you imagine yours to be.

"There's my babies. All tuckered out like they should be," he coos and rubs the both of your backs.

"Daddy..." you mumble.

"That's right. Daddy's got you. Daddy's got the both of you," he murmurs.

A kiss lands on the top of your head and then Satoru's.

"Both of you babies are gonna take a nap and then we'll get you cleaned up, ok?" he says, "I think the both of you learned your lesson."

You can almost hear the smirk in his tone, but it’s of no matter to you as you’re already slipping into the comforting thralls of sleep.

[hornychristianprincess]

wasted (leehan x fem reader) pt 3

paring: leehan x fem reader genre: smut, fluff, angst, fuckboy!leehan word count: 15k bc i'm a slut for this man SRFKLHSDLK summary: everything in your life is affected as your relationship with leehan progresses. warnings: explicit sex scenes, oral (male and female receiving), expressions of insecurity and self-esteem issues should you wish to read on ao3, click HERE.

At the library on a Saturday night, you, Leehan, Riwoo, and Giselle sit at the same table, studying for your approaching midterms. 

“Y/N,” says Leehan. “Can you send me the pdf file you found for the English textbook?”

You nod, quickly finding the file on your phone and airdropping it to Leehan the Lion . “Just sent it.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, before returning to writing notes on his laptop. 

This is about as exciting as your interactions get with Leehan when you’re among your group of friends, studying or going to the caf or finding some event on campus to go to. 

It was the ultimate whiplash, then, to experience Leehan when you were alone. 

Because in the month or so that’s passed since the night of the lunar eclipse, every few days you could look forward to the what are you doing? text that usually led up to some of the most satisfying, passionate sex of your life.

The friends-with-benefits arrangement the two of you were in had quickly become the center of your life. It felt like you were always in limbo as you awaited his latest text, and when you got it, it didnt’t matter what you were doing – you were always ready to surrender to him, to surrender to pleasure that was beginning to feel like the only thing that made you excited to wake up some days.

You had sex sometimes three, sometimes five times a week. Where it happened didn’t really matter to either of you — in the bathroom at a party, the confines of your dorm room, in the backseat of his car. 

Everything in your life had been shrunken to make space for what was now your top priority. 

And whatever negative impacts were to come of such decision-making were yet to be seen when it felt like the high you received from his attention was blinding everything else.

It was always weird to have to face him in settings like this the next day, to hear him speak to you so casually as if his face wasn’t buried between your legs less than 24 hours ago. Still, you kept up your end of this unspoken bargain to pretend as if you weren’t anything but acquaintances.

“I have midterms for every class. I’m feel like I’m gonna die of stress,” said Giselle, throwing her long brown hair over her shoulders. Giselle was one of the people who rode with Jaehyun during the lunar eclipse, and although you didn’t get much time to speak with her then, you’ve since gotten close by hanging out more. 

“That’s why you need to find the right vice. Food…drugs… orgasms, ” replies Leehan playfully, quirking a teasing eyebrow in her direction. He chuckles as Giselle rolls her eyes at him, and as much as you hate yourself for it, you can’t help but notice how his eyes linger on her even as she returns to her textbook.

Occasionally, you’ll observe the fact that the sense of humor and charm that made you fall for Leehan in the first place is not something that he reserves for only you, and it makes you just the tiniest bit sad. 

It’s nice to feel, even if it’s not true, like the moments you share alone in your bedroom are ones where he feels safe to show you things no one else gets to see. Like you hold the key to pieces of Leehan that no one else can access. 

So in times like these where you’re presented with evidence that says otherwise, it makes you feel like there is nothing special or significant about how you and Leehan got to where you were. Perhaps it was just a case of right place right time, like he could’ve met anyone – Giselle, even –  and done the same things he’s done with you.

Then again, the interaction you just observed could’ve been completely innocent and it’s you that’s overthinking it.

At the end of the day, if you were keeping score, the fact that you’re the first person with whom Leehan has offered up his body to on a regular basis feels like more than enough evidence that what you share is special.

In fact, you’re pretty sure he’s gonna fuck you after this.

You know because in the hour or so later when the library is about to close and you’re wrapping up your study session, he says, “Y/N, you live near the mail center, right? I’ll walk with you; I need to drop something off before I head home.”

It takes every bit of self control you have to not break out into a smirk – he knows exactly where you live, and it’s because you fuck there almost every time. “Sure,” you reply, in the most neutral voice you can possible muster.

“See you guys later,” you’re saying to Riwoo and Giselle as you pack up your things and head out. 

It’s past midnight and almost completely dark outside by the time you and Leehan leave, save for the few street lights that illuminate the sidewalk. For no reason in particular, it’s silent between the two of you. You might’ve found such an atmosphere to be awkward if it weren’t for the fact that your dorm was only a 5 minute walk away. And, when it comes to Leehan, you can never be too presumptuous in trying to interpret his moods; being the person that he is, something you’d usually interpret as disinterest could actually mean a plethora of non-threatning things for him.

On the way there, you approach what’s essentially an alleyway, a narrow space between two dorms that is deserted and dark. You don’t think anything of it until suddenly, you’re tugged inside of it and everything in your line of sight goes dark.

And before you can ask questions or react, your senses are flooded by the feeling of Leehan’s lips pressed against yours.

It’s amazing how your body adapts to the sudden gesture before your mind does. While it takes you a moment to internally acknowledge that you’re not in danger, your skin ignites with electricity the moment his lips touch yours. 

If a bystander were to observe the passionate, needy, almost desperate way he’s kissing you, they’d think that you’re someone he hasn’t seen in years, someone who he’s eager to make up lost time with. 

He doesn’t stop at just dominating your mouth with his tongue. His hands, like calloused vines, wrap themselves around your body, setting fire to whatever pieces of exposed skin he can find. And when you whimper against him, he adds to the sound with a groan of his own.

But no, this isn’t a kiss of two lovers who have been separated by time, or location. Leehan is just a person who is steadfast in his commitment to doing everything in his life earnestly. And it’s one of the many reasons why you are enamored by him.

When he pulls away to look at you, you can see even in the dark the expression of relief on his face. It’s as if kissing you was an urge he has been suppressing until now, and having gotten his fix, he’s left in a state of contentment.

“What was that for?” you ask, adrenaline and arousal running through your veins in such an fiery combination that you find your voice comes out weaker than usual.

“Just had to get it out my system,” is what he says indifferently in reply, and with his lips curling into a smirk, he heads out of the alleyway and continues on the path to your dorm. You follow him, feeling like the arousal you had been suppressing the entire time you were at the library with your friends has now doubled in a way that makes your knees wobbly as you walk.

It’s silent between the two of again as you approach the building to your dorm, although now you feel confident in assuming that it had always been searing sexual tension that was keeping him from being his usual talkative, bubbly self. 

It could be confusing to someone else, then, why — even as you’re locking the door to your room with him inside of it – you still aren’t all over each other in the way your earlier interactions might’ve preluded. 

But it’s because you just have one more confirmation you need to make before you can truly let go of your inhibitions, and that’s the question of, “Is your roommate here?”

Your roommate, lovely girl, would usually be here in the dorm at this time. But already having a feeling what you’d be getting up to tonight, you transparently informed her through text that im so so sorry but i’m out with you know who and i could reallllyyy use some dick tonight. buy you food to make up for it? just before you left the library.

“No. She’s out studying,” you tell Leehan. 

When you meet each other’s gazes, Leehan’s eyes sparkling as if he’s just been told he’s won the lottery, you can sense the exact moment when the both of you realize there’s no longer a need to wait. And so, like animals excitedly tearing up freshly-killed prey, it’s in a messy, rushed flurry of movements that you both take each other’s clothes off. 

Before Leehan, you don’t think you ever experienced an attraction for someone so intense that it caused you to push furniture over in the process of trying to get to the bedroom. But with him, the sound of a glass vase breaking doesn’t feel so concerning when you’re too busy trying to make it to the bed, take off his clothes, and not break your kiss all at once. 

There’s something so humorous about your shared vigor, causing you to both smile into the kisses you share, remaining playful even among such intensity. 

“You’re roommate’s a lovely person, isn’t she?” he remarks as he backs you up into your bedroom doorframe, throwing the jacket you had been wearing on your rug in the process. “I’ve gotta apologize to her one day. Poor girl’s had to hear so many things.”

You hate how much his words ring true, because truthfully, tonight was one out of several rare occasions in which you’ve been given enough foresight to warn your roommate before Leehan comes over. Other times, things between you two have blossomed too spontaneously for a warning, or, your phone died while you were out together, giving you no means to let her know he was arriving. 

“ Ew . Don’t talk about her like that. It’ll make me think you have a thing for her,” you reply in reference to the lovely person and poor girl attributions, and although you’re mostly joking, the insecurity from before about his interest in other women still remains present in the forefront of your mind.

And it’s not at all helped when, even jokingly, he makes remarks like, “Hey — I’d never say no to inviting someone else into our activities.”

At this point, you’re standing in nothing but a bra and panties in front of him, preparing to give your body up for his pleasure, which is why you think it’s fairly reasonable that you reach out to swat him in response to such cheekiness. 

But he seizes your wrists before you can make contact, laughing at your reaction in that way that, as annoying as it is to acknowledge right now, makes him look so, so sexy. “I’m kidding, baby,” he chides apologetically. “I’d never share you. Want you too fucking badly to even think about it.”

It’s in moments like these that you can’t help but get butterflies from Leehan, especially when he leans in to kiss you languidly right after. This habit he’s taken of calling you all sorts of pet names, from princess to baby to sweet girl, is something that has made your attraction to him increase tenfold. 

How could you help it, when his deep voice by itself is like a weapon specifically designed to torture you?

“Are you needy, baby?” asks Leehan teasingly, as his hand is now stuffed in your underwear, and his forehead is pressed against yours as he pushes you against the hard surface of your dresser and fingers you expertly. “Was what we did two days ago not enough? Did I not fuck you good enough?”

It’s actually because the sex from two days ago – and the day before that and the day before that and the days since you met him – was too good that you find yourself needing little stimulation to get wet at the thought of fucking him again. But of course, you don’t admit this, not needing his ego to get any larger than it is. “Shut up and fuck me.”

But Leehan doesn’t pay your cheek any mind, reacting only with a scoff as he busies himself with getting on his knees in front of you. Pressing his face against the skin of your bare stomach, he remarks, “You smell like me. It’s so fucking sexy.”

Leehan is the most wayward person you’ve ever met. But you can surely count on him in moments like these to make your entire body feel like it’s on fire, knowing exactly what buttons to push and places to touch to get a rise out of you. All he does is leave chaste, delicate kisses along the skin from your sternum to your belly button, but the fact that he maintains eye contact as he does it, and the implication that he makes when he says, “And I bet you taste like heaven, too,” makes you feel like you’re experiencing something so ethereal it’s as if you’re out of your own body.

You’re looking down at him as he kisses at the spot just above your pussy, and it’s at that moment that you decide you want him too badly to wait any longer. Fingers that had once laced themselves in his hair now tug on the strands, pulling him up and off of you. “Leehan. Inside of me. Now.”

You watch as his eyes scan your face to tell if you’re being serious or not, and if you could see yourself through his gaze, you know you’d be convincingly earnest in your desire to have him. Once he confirms this for himself, he pops up from his previous position kneeling on the ground, and looks at you with his head cocked to the side in a expression of challenge. Pushing you up onto the dresser, he quirks an eyebrow to say, “Have I ever told you that I find you sexiest when you’re telling me what to do?”

At this, you smile, playing into his confession by commanding, “Kiss me,” before leaning in to meet his lips. And when his hand travels between your legs, you know it’s not to touch you, but to reach into the top drawer of your dresser where you’ve allowed him to stash some condoms. It’s with excitment that you hear him tear open the package, sliding the latex onto his hardened cock.

There’s a moment just before he lines his cock up with your slit where he pulls away from your lips, reaching a hand out to hold your jaw in place so that your eyelines are level. And when he simply just stares at you silently, allowing his eyes to graze your features with an awe-stricken expression on his face, you can’t help but look away as the intensity of his admiration becomes overwhelming.

He chuckles at your obvious shyness, hand never leaving your jaw as he continues to view you like you’re a delicate statue he’s entranced by. “Don’t you think it’s too late to be shy after everything we’ve done together?” he says jokingly, and even though you feign disagreement with a roll of your eyes, you make no effort to suppress the smile that appears on your face as you bask in his teasing of you.

“I can’t help it,” you reply, comfortably meeting his gaze now. “You’re just really fucking handsome.”

You’re sure he’s heard these words hundreds of times in hundreds of ways, and yet you can see his eyes-widening as if you’ve said something sincerely touching. Perhaps the words hit differently when heard spontaneously, genuinely, without any pretense behind them.

It’s without any warning that Leehan pushes himself inside of you. Caught off guard by the feeling of his cock entering you inch by pleasurable inch, you can only make a mental note to apologize to him later as your fingernails dig into the skin of his back. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to mind, too focused on leaning his forehead against yours and watching with greedy eyes as his cock enters your pussy and leaves it with a creamy sheen. 

“Jesus fucking christ, Y/N,” he remarks in awe, managing the words through a shaky exhale as he moves to hook his arms underneath your thighs. He pulls your body closer to the edge of the dresser, bringing his cock even deeper inside of you. He hasn’t even started fucking you properly yet, and still you let out a series of elongated sighs and moans, wrapping your arms around his neck for a sense of comfort.

It’s when you’re completely pressed together in a skin-to-skin embrace that he finally begins to thrust inside of you at a pace that you’re used to. As clumsy and unsure as he can sometimes be, Leehan never fucks you erratically. It’s always with a controlled, focused pace that he pistons his hips into yours, knowing your body so well that you never have to tell him when to slow up or go faster. 

When you first met Leehan, you couldn’t understand the concept of kissing being considered an intimate act between two lovers. 

But now, as he leans in to press his mouth against yours, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth, it’s with suprsing clarity that you realize why some people like to refrain from kissing entirely when they hook up with someone. 

You’re at your most smitten when being passionately tongue-kissed through an unforgiving onslaught of thrusts, a part of you wishing that this sex could become a permanent fixture in your life and not just a transactional, temporary high.  

It’s only when he slots a hand between your bodies to tweak at your clit that it becomes impossible for you to meet his kiss, feeling too much pleasure to hold back your open-mouthed cries. Leehan then moves to kissing your neck, and it’s some of the most sensual affection you've ever received as he allows his tongue to drag across your skin, suctioning his lips on sections of your shoulder where you’re sure he’s leaving hickies. 

He goes up your body in this sequence until he reaches your ear, mumbling, “You take care of my cock so well,” as he licks at the shell of your ear and sinks his teeth onto your earlobe. “It’s why I’m never coming off of you. It’s too fucking good for me to stop.”

Transfixed by the sound of his voice, the feel of his cock, and the stimulation you receive on your clit, you can feel that it’s only a matter of time before your pleasure reaches it’s crescending point. “Leehan,” you mumble out, grabbing onto fistfuls of his long hair as if it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth. “Come with me.”

He denies this request with a click of his tongue, mumbling the words, “You first,” into your ear as his thrusts increase in impact. It’s in a sad attempt at a kiss that you press your mouth against his, feeling his intensity and passion just as the same even as you devolve into just grazing your tongue against his mouth. 

Your orgasm hits you in a feeling that’s akin to a bunch of puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together at once; the combination of his cock, his closeness, and his endless circling of your clit leaves your body seizing with what is surely one of the most pleasurable feelings of your life. 

And as you feel his movements becoming rapid and untethered, knowing that the feeling of your tighetning cunt will soon become too pleasurable for him to bear, it’s with satisfied foreboding that you watch him give you his last, hard thrust. 

There are a least of couple minutes that pass where neither of you move, the only sounds being your successive heavy breathing as you both come down from intense highs. Leehan makes the first move by carrying you your bed, where he plops you down on your back and makes a very sexy whimpering sound as he’s forced to pull out of you. 

Even once you’re separated, he still plops down on the bed to rest next to you. A forearm’s length apart, you long for him to touch you, even if just for a moment.

“Shit,” he mutters, an outburst that has you confused until you notice his eyes and their fixation with your bedside alarm clock. “I didn’t realize how late it is. I really don’t want to drive back to my apartment at this time.”

Then stay, is what you think to yourself, but these are words that you would never dare to actually vocalize. 

There was truthfully one instance just a month or so prior when you suggested he might leave a bookbag in your room so he didn’t have to walk home with it in the rain. Not too soon will you forget the way a usually upbeat Leehan turned cold on you within seconds, neglecting to say more than a see you later as he almost sprinted to leave your apartment.

You’d be lying if you said his eagerness to leave after the sex is finished wasn’t at least the slightest bit dismaying. 

The delusional part of you wishes he could at least pretend like he didn’t just come here to fuck you and nothing more. 

It would be nice to believe that the sheer enjoyment of your company would be enough to make him want to stay afterwards.  

And what’s worse is that every time, he comes up with some way to express how much he probably should stay. Like just now, how he mentioned how late it was. It frustrates you more than anything. 

Because no matter how much he says he doesn’t want to leave, he always does. 

And at this point, you wish he would just do it decisively instead of trying to soften the blow. 

“Did you hear about the party we’re having this weekend?” you hear him ask suddenly, his body in a sitting position as he gets up to put on his clothes. “Ha. We . Well, really Jaehyun.”

Though you find it difficult to have casual conversation with him when your mind is elsewhere, you indulge him with a truthful shake of your head. “No. What’s it for?”

“Halloween. He’s asking everyone to dress up,” says Leehan, having already made it to the other side of your room. If you were in more of a spirited mood, you might laugh at how he mentions dressing up for Halloween as if it’s something that’s beneath him. “Don’t worry that he didn’t tell you. He just came up with the idea yesterday. 

The fact that Jaehyun hadn’t mentioned the party to you wasn’t even a thought that occurred in your mind. You were more so concerned with the logistics of deciding to throw a party during midterms. Stressed beyond relief with your own course load, you couldn’t imagine deciding to attend anything extracurricular at this time of year.

But then, the idea of making such plans seems a lot more plausible when Leehan says, “Are you coming, pretty? I think it would be cute if we went with with matching costumes.”

It’s because of moments like these that your feelings for Leehan can be so conflicting. At the beginning of your day today, he sat around you with your other friends and acted as if you were nothing more than acquaintances. Followed you to your dorm and fucked you as sensually and passionately as a boyfriend would. Is getting dressed and preparing to leave within minutes of reaching his climax. And now, he calls you pet names in a non-sexual context and tells you he wants to wear a couple’s costume with you. Constantly affronted with gestures that are both hot and cold, you can never be too sure whether it’s you that’s delusional or him that’s sending mixed messages.

Nonetheless, you cannot help yourself from replying, “Sounds fun. I’ll be there,” even though you know you that you shouldn’t. Even though you know you have far too much on your plate academically to be going to a party on a school night. Even though you know your actions should not be so predated on his. Knowing all of this, you still find yourself not the least bit concerned, only excited, as you think about attending the party together.

“See you then, gorgeous. Have sweet, x-rated dreams about me,” is what he says as he finishes putting on his discarded clothes, standing in your bedroom doorway as he prepares to leave. His silhouette casts a shadow over your dimly lit room, covering your naked, vulnerable body. 

“Shut up,” you mumble weakly as you move to throw a pillow at him, a part of you wishing that all of your interactions felt as sweet as this one did.  

>you: hey i’m at the halloween store picking out costumes, what were you thinking?

Five minutes before you were planning to head out to Jaehyun’s party, you reread this text from two days ago over and over, the delivered in the corner almost taunting you. Just 13 words took you at least an half an hour to send because you couldn’t stop wondering if it was too vague or too forward or if you shouldn’t have even said anything all. 

And now, as you sit on the cold bench outside of your dorm waiting for your Uber to the party, wearing a cheap angel costume, you realize now what a mistake it was to send that text. 

You suppose the misunderstanding you’ve found yourself in started with your assumption – based on Leehan’s last words to you as he left your dorm just a few days ago – that you’d be shopping together to find matching costumes for Jaehyun’s party. 

But when the party was inching closer and he had yet to reach out, you ventured to a PartyCity on your own. It was then that you sent the text after much internal laboring, ultimatley thinking that maybe he was busy with midterms and would be grateful that you had taken the initiative on both your behalf's to buy the costumes.

Even as you were halfway through the checkout line and still nothing from Leehan, you bought a matching devil costume for him anyway, plastic red horns to match your sparkly halo. Maybe, when he was less busy, he’d eventually reach back out, still interested in going to the party with you and grateful you saved him the trouble of picking out a costume. 

In your mind, there were a billion rational possibilities for why he wasn’t responding that would still ultimately end in your original plans to attend the party and dress together.

It wasn’t until an hour before the party and still no response from Leehan that you were forced to accept you’d be going to this party yourself. A billion questions arose in your mind. Was something wrong, explaining why he had been M.I.A after making plans with you? Had he forgotten about the party entireley? 

Did he just…no longer want to go with you anymore?

As you stood up to enter your approaching Uber, you try to remind yourself that the party was being thrown at Leehan’s apartment – there was no way that he was oblivious to what today was. If he hadn’t responded to your text, it didn’t necessarily have to be for malicious reasons. Maybe he just genuinely forgot, or was one of the many people who went offline during midterm season.

Either way, you were beginning to think that you were worrying too much for no reason. After all, it isn’t the end of the world that you aren’t arriving together in matching costumes.

Or, maybe it’s the couple of shots you took while getting ready finally kicking in and causing your rationality to dissipate.

Arriving at Jaehyun’s apartment, you already knew that knocking on the door would be futile; without entering, you could hear the loud sounds of bass burning through a speaker that you could guess would make any outside noise intelligible. Instead, you took your chances at twisting the doorknob, and sure enough, it was unlocked. It seemed dangerous to you, but you walked in anyway to find a cacophony of purple, green, and orange strobe lights, illuminating the sizeable crowd of people filling the space. 

Decorations of cobwebs and skulls adored almost every surface, and as you walked further inside, you noticed the array of drink bowls spread out against a long table. 

You observe impressively that Jaehyun went as far as hiring a DJ, a guy dressed in a vampire costume who jerks his upper body back and forth to the rhythm of the music. 

It’s almost like a scene in a coming-of-age-film come to life, mountains of young adult bodies bouncing in a hypnotic fervor while drinks in red solo cups are sloshed up and down in the process.

Making your way through the crowd, you spot several of your newfound friends, plus others Jaehyun introduced you to at the lunar eclipse. You wave particularly to Riwoo, Giselle, and Sungho – dressed as an elf, cat, and fireman respectively – but really , who you’re looking for is Leehan. 

In the first five minutes or so of your search, you have no luck in finding him. You do, however, run into Jaehyun, whose sleeveless jean vest with no shirt underneath immediately gives away his costume as Ken from the Barbie movie. You giggle at the realization, taken aback even more when Jaehyun drapes an arm clumsily over your shoulder, bringing you in closer.

“I’m so glad you could make it, Y/N!” he shouts, competing with the loud music, and just barely – you almost want to drag him somewhere quieter, away from the DJ booth, but the longer you look at Jaehyun, taking in his wobbly, red-faced disposition, you realize he must be drunk. Trying to force him into any extended movement in his current condition would be futile.

“Thanks. Hey, have you seen Leehan?” you ask, skipping any pleasantries. You want to get an answer from his as quickly as possible before he becomes incoherent.

To your dismay, he shakes his head no. “He’s not coming. Told me he had a study date he was going to.”

You hope the absence of light outside from the shitty strobes obscures the expression of disappointment that is surely on your face right now, or even better that Jaehyun is too drunk to remember you asking this at all tomorrow morning. 

“You’re not still interested in him, are you?” asks Jaehyun, the smallest glimmer of rationality breaking through his drunken fervor as he seems to be sincere in asking. You force a smile, wanting to get away from him as quickly as possible before he’s able to notice the difference.

“No, of course not,” you dismiss with a small laugh. You give Jaehyun a friendly pat on the arm before identifying where the drinks are so you can head there next. “Thanks for having me.”

Beelining for the punch table, you fill a red solo cup with a mixture of liquids from all three bowls and throw it down without investigating what you’ve just ingested. To your dismay, rather than dulling your emotions, the alcohol brings out your festering resentment. Towards Leehan, towards this entire situation.

Truthfully, with your own midterms looming and a mountain of late assignments you’ve allowed to pile up over the last few months as you prirotized sex with Leehan, it was against your every best interest to show up tonight. 

You had checked your assignment-board this morning to discover that two essays worth 40% of your grade were due at 11:59 tonight. 

A class you were already failing with a 60 was requiring you to submit revisions for a paper tonight, too.

And yet, you made the decision to come out tonight – promising yourself you’d make it home at a decent enough hour so that you could at least submit something – because of Leehan. 

You were encouraged to wake up this morning and the morning before this morning because of your excitement at the notion of coming to this party with him by your side, wearing matching costumes and sharing drinks and hopefully spit by the end of the night, too.

If you were being completely honest, all of your days were beginning to feel like that — like the only thing you had to continuously look forward to was seeing or experiencing Leehan in some way shape or form.

Experiencing his laugh and his weird habit of bringing up the most random topics at the drop of a dime. Seeing his dimples pop out when he smiles at you and feeling like it’s the cutest thing in the world.

It’s becoming clear to you now that his absence has just as big — no, a bigger emotional impact that his presence does.

You’re angry because you know you didn’t create this excitement out of nowhere: he told you he wanted you to come to this party. You went solely because he said he was going to. If he didn’t want to come tonight, if he had plans, he could have warned you.

You’re angry at yourself for believing him. 

Worst of all, you’re angry because he’s on a date and it confirms all of your biggest insecurities about you not being enough for him.

And it’s at this point that you acknowledge how woefully unequipped you were to say yes to the proposition he gave you the night of the lunar eclipse. Because if it means having to experience the profoundly soul-crushing reality of his disinterest in anything having to do with you other than quick, indulgent sex, you’d rather die a million times. 

You feel your phone buzzing and reach into your bag to grab it unfeelingly. It’s a notification from Leehan. And as if you needed one more reason to feel like shit tonight, the nofication reads, Leehan questioned your message: hey i’m at the halloween store picking out costumes, what were you thinking?

You’re so tired of trying to analyze Leehan’s every action and gesture in an effort to convince yourself that maybe there’s some large reasoning behind his indifference. Instead of searching for any additional explanation behind in the question mark, you simply decide that he’s an asshole who had no intention of going out with you tonight.

And it’s with that steely acknowledgement that suddenly, you feel like you’re about to throw up all of the liquor you’ve just consumed. Taking a deep breath to stop yourself from spilling your guts right then and there, you decide it’s time to go home.

In your haste to leave the party, you don’t bother to try and yell excuse me to the 20 or so people blocking your way to the exit. You simply squeeze past who you can and push past who you can’t, not even caring to look back at those you shoulder check until you’re turned around by a pull against your forearm.

Face-to-chest with a figure you don’t immediately recognize, you body seizes up in fear, a condition that’s only slightly alleviated when you recognize the person’s voice as they exclaim in a deep voice, “ Whoa, whoa whoa . Hey, Y/N.” 

It’s in slight annoyance that you look up to meet Leehan’s gaze, finding him staring down at you softly. It appears that he’s just walked into the party. In a space  full of people dressed as mythical creatures, he looks out of place in his leather jacket and jeans, but also oh so attractive. His hair gathers in front of his face messily, the dark brown locks in a rare state of curliness. He doesn’t have to wear plastic horns to look devilish. 

“Are you okay?” you hear him ask loudly over the sound of the music, his hand now resting on the apex of your arm. Feeling both defiant and embarrassed to tell him the true answer to his question – that no , you’re not okay because you foolishly thought you could count on him to be there for you when he said he would – you don’t answer. 

And in a move that only contributes to the growing feeling that all Leehan truly cares about when it comes to you is sex, he doesn’t even allow you the time to answer, even if you wanted to. “You look pretty, angel ,” he says only seconds after his last remark, using both of his hands to smoothe down pieces of your hair messed up by your headband. 

A compliment that would usually cause sparks to fly throughout your stomach now only annoys you, especially as you catch a whiff of fruity, feminine perfume on his body. 

“You smell like someone else,” you tell him plainly, too drunk to hide what it is you’re thinking. And you can see that the remark and the resentful tone in which you say it takes him aback, even as he chuckles in an attempt to remain composed. 

“Because I was driving for Uber, tonight, pretty,” he says, and before you have a chance to question his excuse, he continues by asking, “How much have you had to drink?”

“Why does that matter?” you retort with a scoff, convinced he’s about to try and spin this on you by suggesting your valid anger is a result of your drinking. 

But then he puts on that signature smirk of his, those wretched dimples of his coming out as he leans down into your ear to say, “Because when I ask If I can take you to my room in about five minutes, I want to make sure I’m not taking advantage of you.”

Yout hate that those words and the implication of sex have you immediately aroused and pliant, even as you grapple with the feeling of being just a physical object to him. 

Because as much as you dislike him right now for what he’s put you through emotionally, his renewed attention feels like the perfect solvent to your wounds.

“You wouldn’t be,” you reply softly, your voice coming out small and weak as you maintain unbroken eye contact with him.

“Yeah?” he replies almost mockingly, bringing a hand up to stroke your cheek. “Why do I get the feeling that you want me to take advantage of you?”

It feels like your mind and heart are on two different accords as your face remains passive and unaffected yet what comes out of your mouth is, “Take me to your room and find out.”

It’s less a feeling of shame but more like acceptance that comes over you as you follow Leehan back into the throes of the party, his hand leading you through the crowd of people and towards his bedroom. 

Deep down, you know that the excuse he gave you earlier about his whereabouts was bullshit. Never once before has Leehan mentioned driving for Uber, and even if he did, it still wouldn’t justify his complete lack of regard for the plans you made and his lack of regard for you , refusing to notify you in advance that he wouldn’t be available.

But when faced with the proposition of sex, it seems foolish to deny it so that you can… what ? Continue to stew in feelings that will just leave you feeling empty, hurt, and worthless? Question him about being on a date when you know you have no right to?

Having sex will at least guarantee you a few moments of mind-numbing bliss, even if only a temporary high. Better that than have to face the reality of your own complicated nest of delusion.

As you’re let into Leehan’s room, hearing the sound of him closing the door shut behind you, you’re hit with the sudden realization that in the three months or so you’ve known him, you’ve never been in here before. 

His room has all the markers of a college boy’s sense of taste – dark colored furniture and bedsheets, posters scattered on the wall with no real order, random piles of mess occupying corners of the room. 

In a space that is otherwise unremarkable, your attention is piqued by a square, rectangular tank on top of his dresser.

“You have fish ,” you remark in a tone that is both matter-a-fact and questioning, something about your drunken state making you more curious than ever about the tank and it’s inhabitants. 

Throwing his jacket onto a random chair, Leehan comes up next to you and lets out a chuckle as he takes in your awe-stricken expression. “For some reason, I forgot you haven’t been in here before,” he observes, and when he watches you just continue to stand still, eyes transfixed on the fish but still remaining a few feet away from the tank, he gestures for you to follow him to it. “C’mon. Sit.”

You can’t help the way that your limbs move eagerly and excitedly towards the tank, where Leehan pulls up two extra chairs for you both to sit and view it together. 

Fish of all different sizes and shapes swim around in vibrant blurs of pink, orange and beige. You watch it all in awe, not sure if it’s because you’re tipsy or simply curious, and as Leehan explains what each type of fish is called, you hang onto every word.

“...this one is called a corydoras catfish. The rest of them are shrimp,” he explains, pressing his finger up against the tank as he points out each fish and the attributes that differentiate them from one another. 

In one corner of the tank, a group of fish swim frantically around each other, as if fighting.

“Usually they come right up against the tank when I sit in front of them like this. I think they’re mad because I haven’t given them any fish food.”

“Don’t you need to feed them?” you ask in genuine concern, turning to look at Leehan who only smirks.

“Are you trying to imply that I’m a negligent father, Y/N?” he retorts dramatically, his body tensing in mock offense before he relaxes and explains, “Don’t worry. They’re supposed to eat the algae on the rock. For some reason, they’re just being hesitant.”

“Maybe the algae isn’t what they want,” you chime in with a reasoning tilt to your quiet, contemplative voice.

“Just because the fish food is what they want doesn’t mean I should give it to them,” Leehan retorts simply, and maybe it’s the drunk, cynical part of you that thinks he’s making reference to your relationship. That you’re the fish who just can’t help but want something it can’t have, and he’s the sensible overseer that remains in control of what you will receive. 

But if Leehan is making some sort of larger, metaphorical reference to your relationship, he surely moves on from it quickly, becoming wistful and contemplative as he says, “I’ve been raising fishes all my life. Sometimes when I’m stressed I’ll just sit in front of the tank and talk to them.”

He presses his hand flat against the tank, his lips twitching into a prideful, paternal smile. “Because I know that unlike humans, they’ll never judge me.”

You find that your eyes never stray from the side of Leehan’s face as he talks, feeling almost like you’re a purveyor to this private, intimate moment he’s having. It feels like a privilege to be able to observe Leehan in moments like this where you’re given a genuine glimpse into his inner personhood.

But you’re pushed out just as quickly as you’re let in, watching as he promptly gets up from his seat by the tank and makes his way over to the bed. You turn your body in your chair to face him, and find that he’s now staring at you lustfully, gesturing for you to join him.

And as dismaying as it is to see him abandon the brief moment of emotional vulnerability just as quickly as it began, you stand up anyway, making your way to him.

Your movements toward him are slow, shy almost, and you can tell it pleases Leehan as you stand between his legs and are brought forward by his hands pushing at your lower back. He looks up at you, communicating wordlessly with just his sensual gaze how much he wants you. Your lingering anger from before stops you from making the first move, but even so, you don’t resist when he leans in to press a soft, steady kiss against your lips. Finding something almost apologetic about the innocent gesture, you put aside all of your inhibitions and decide to deepen the kiss, leaning your body fully into his and relishing in the groans he makes against your mouth. 

Passion quickly bleeds into the both of your movements until you’re kissing in a crazed, frantic manner. His hands that previously only looped your hips now wander across the expanse of your back, and with one forceful tug, your zipper comes down your dress. You’ve only just allowed the fabric to slide down your shoulders before he’s pulling the dress down himself, exposing your nipples to the cold air before covering them with his hot mouth. Tongue swirling around your hardened nubs, you nuzzle a hand in his hair and throw your head back in contentment. 

It’s with a wet pop that he pulls off of you, leaning upward to lock your lips once more. But because you're both incredibly and overwhelming horny, the kiss lasts for barely a few seconds before he’s pulling away to voice his plans for your body. 

“Want you to sit on my face,” he mumbles, voice gruff and deep and dripping with desire. “Wanna put that pretty pussy of yours in my mouth.”

Smirking in reply, you rest your head against his, eyes closed as you weather the currents of several shocks of arousal that travel up your body and make your legs feel like jelly. “I want that, too,” you confess, your voice sounding wispy as your body loses the strength to be assertive. “Also kinda want your dick in my mouth.”

His eyes light up at this, and with a hand on your chin that brings your face level with his, he says, “How about this: You hop on my face, and I’ll let you suck my cock. Sound good?”

Something about Leehan’s enduring leadership has the effect of making you feel intimidated, so much so that all you manage is a shy nod in response to his words, which he luckily accepts without any further prompting. You’re better at speaking with your actions, anyway, knowing that there’s a wordless understanding in the way that you kiss him hard and passionately while your hands push him onto his back.  

It’s with greedy, fast-moving hands that you strip him of his clothes, desperate for the instant bliss that is his mouth against your clit, the instant satisfaction that is his cum shooting down your throat. Once you have him fully naked, the fuzzy halo headband you’ve long forgotten about the only shared item of clothing between the two of you, you begin to adjust so that you may assume the required position. 

But your movements are suddenly halted when Leehan sits up suddenly, muttering the word “Wait,” as he maneuvers the both of your bodies so that you now lay on the complete opposite side of the bed. 

“That’s better,” he mumbles contentedly.

“What?”

“Just don’t want the fish to see what I’m about to do to you,” he replies, an answer so baffling that all you can do is laugh in reply. Your reaction barely phases him as he moves to drag your body onto his, and just like that, his kookiness is forgotten and your focus becomes tethered to the feeling of his breath against your awaiting pussy. 

He blows a few teasing, cool breaths against your dripping core, and before he has the chance to make you succumb to the pleasure of his mouth, you reach out to begin your own enjoyment of his heavy, hard cock. 

His member is veiny and substantial in your hands, reddened tip dripping with beads of precum that you lick away without thought of how it will impact Leehan. You feel his body seize with a jolt of pleasure from the direct contact with his most sensitive body part. 

And as if trying to get payback, he begins his assault on your pussy by sucking your clit into his warm, wet mouth.

From there, it becomes a competition of wills, a battle to see who can be least distracted by the pleasure they’re receiving in order to make the other fold, or at the very least, reach their climax. 

It’s a war you feel yourself pitifully losing as your drunken fervor somehow makes every casually overwhelming sensation feel 10x more heightened. You feel yourself inching closer and closer to release with each blissful flick of his tongue against your clit. 

Still, not forgetting about Leehan and his pleasure, you fight through the mental haze of your own gratification and concentrate on making slow, purposeful pumps of his cock within the ring of your hand. 

Sucking Leehan off is an activity you’ve gotten more than enough experience in to know what it takes to make him come. You gather all of the moisture in your mouth and wet his shaft with your spit. You press teasing, chaste kisses on his sensitive tip. You swirl your tongue in circles and continue stroking him with your hand. 

And then, when you can feel his thighs tensing as he grows tired of your teasing, you offer him relief in the form of taking him fully in your warm mouth.

Leehan’s self control is impeccable, even as you’re bobbing your head up and down his cock. He drags his tongue through your folds and finds himself at your hole, licking up the arousal there and fucking you open with his tongue. The only sign he shows of his own impending release are in the groans that he lets out against your mound. You can feel something overwhelming begining to build in your stomach, and though your body tries to squirm away from it, he holds you against his face.

You pitifully moan with his cock fully lodged in your mouth, and with a few final thrusts of his tongue, the knot in your stomach comes undone. As your orgasm overwhelms you, it’s difficult to continue moving your head. 

But Leehan’s too close to let his climax slip away from him, so it’s in desperation that he begins bucking his hips into your mouth at the same time he’s licking you through your orgasm. You just relax your jaw and let out restrained whimpers as Leehan fucks your mouth, not stopping until he finishes with a groan.

“My god, Y/N,” Leehan mutters breathily, turning you both on your sides, unraveling his limbs from yours until you’re no longer skin to skin. “We should do that position more often.”

You nod lazily in agreement, and with the little strength left in your limbs, you sit up to meet Leehan in the middle of the bed for a wet kiss. 

The position is slightly awkward, the two of you laying in opposite directions, twisting your bodies unnaturally, but kissing each other is a habit so addictive that even as you’re pulling away, he pulls at your hair to bring you back in for just a few seconds longer.

It’s comforting to fall back down onto the bed and feel Leehan’s fingers gently caressing the skin of your ankle. In your sleepy, post-orgasm haze, you’re filled with a sudden surge of contement in regards to your decision to come here tonight. 

You feel the fabric of a blanket kissing the sides of your body, and when you look over to find Leehan getting comfy in bed, it’s with satisfaction that you begin to do the same.

But then, the blanket you were just about to pull onto your body is snatched off of your skin, and when you look over at Leehan, you see him tucking himself in with a sleepy, content smile on his face. It’s just as you’re sitting up that he flutters his eyes closed, and with a sleepy tilt to his voice he says, “Hey, if you see Jaehyun on your way out, can you ask him to call me? I wanna know what time he plans on ending this.”

There’s a second after those words hit your ears where you’re not sure if you misheard him, slow to move from where you are in his bed. But as the implications of the statement hit you horrifically and all at once, it’s with a heavy feeling of shame weighing down your body that you reply, “Sure,” going to gather your discarded things from the floor.

The humiliating act of putting on your clothes after being dismissed so casually is almost instantaneously sobering. You catch a view of yourself in the display of your phone and notice that your plastic halo headband has been bent 90 degrees, likely from how rough you were. Your hair is strewn in every direction. Your mascara is smeared and ruined, running down your cheeks in squiggly, broken lines. 

You’re a mess. He made you a mess for the sake of his pleasure. And instead of cleaning you up, Leehan has essentially just kicked you out onto the street.

Only Leehan could cause such a dramatic shift between feeling like you were safe and desired to feeling like you’re just a worthless speck of nothing attached to the bottom of his shoe.

It’s just as you’re about to open the door to leave that you hear him call your name, and with your back turned to him, a hopeful part of you thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’ll say he changed his mind and wants you to stay.

But instead, as if to turn the knife in more, when you turn around, you find him staring boredly at his phone. 

Instead of regret on his face, you see neutrality. 

And instead of asking you to stay, he just says, “Thanks so much by the way. For the sex and the favor.”

It’s with a forced, robotic sense of calmness that you’re replying. “No problem, Leehan.”

And then you leave his room, never feeling so profoundly insignificant than you do in this moment.

There’s nothing quite worse than waking up with a terrible hangover, a panging feeling of emotional emptiness, and then having to send a string of desperate emails to your professors asking for deadline extensions. But that’s exactly what you do in the aftermath of the Halloween party, and by the grace of all things holy, you’re granted an extra few days to get your assignments in.

So grateful for the chance to resuscitate your failing GPA, you focus your efforts on finishing your assignments and almost forget about the cause of such misfortune, until you’re reminded when your phone suddenly buzzes with a text.

>leehan: what are you doing?

Messages of this sort usually have the effect of leaving you excited and giddy in anticipation of Leehan’s inevitable arrival to your doorstep. But now, all you feel is annoyance as you read the text and plague yourself over what to say. 

You type and delete several versions of a response that ultimately boils down to i’m too busy trying not to fail all of my classes which i wouldn’t be failing if it weren’t for all of the time i spend either thinking about you or fucking you , but in the end, you resolutely decide not to respond at all. 

In fact, in a move surely colored by the resentment you’ve allowed to grow for far too long now, you turn on read receipts so he knows you chose to disregard him on purpose.

You then continue typing away at one of the three essays that are past due, hoping you can forget about Leehan and return to the focus you had before receiving the message and being reminded of the past week’s events. You’re pleased when you look up after a few moments to see that an hour has passed and your attention hasn’t lingered. 

Just as you open a new tab to begin the reading for your second essay, the indistinguishable sound of a knock at your door stirs your attention otherwise.

You look around your shared dorm space. Your roommate went home for break already and hasn’t been here for the past few days. Assuming she communicated that to her friends, you know whoever’s on the other side of the door shouldn’t be for her. 

It could be an RA, though you couldn’t imagine why. 

Deciding to confront your curiosity head on, you get up to open the door and feel your eyes widen when it’s Leehan leaning against the doorframe.

Dressed comfortably in a hoodie and cargo pants, he looks up to greet you, smirking at the sight of your looming silhouette. “Hello,” he says casually, as if his sudden appearance was known to you before now.

There’s a strange mixture of excitement and dread that swirls inside of you the moment you see him. Because on one hand, just a look from him is something that gives you uncontrollable butterflies. You truly do like being around Leehan. But you feel like you have no control over the fact that you will let him in, even though you have every reason not to. 

He’ll fuck you, give you some of the best pleasure of your life, and will leave right afterwards, making you feel shitty. 

You’ll exerience the greatest high followed by the greatest low. 

And already in anticipation of how terrible you’ll feel in the aftermath of this inevitable scenario, it’s as if you’re body is already making space for the knife that will surely tear through your heart when this ends.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, though you already have a strong feeling what the answer will be. 

He’ll play coy, changing the subject by asking another question in response to your question.

“Aren’t you gonna let me in?” he says next, even though you both know the true reason why he’s come.

And because you like to feel like you have even the smallest semblance of control over the situation, you don’t give in to him easily, making a face of mock contemplation before replying, “Not if you don’t answer the question first.”

“Did you know that peppermint dwarf angelfish require a very specific type of fish food?” he asks, and because you’re so used to these divertive, weird diatribes he’s always so inclined to go on, all you can do is try and follow along. “I had to come all the way up here to find the only shop in Korea that sells it. And while I was already up here, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to stop by your dorm and say hi.”

You tilt your head as you stare at him, considering bitterly whether he could be telling the truth or not. 

But of course, his serious expression quickly melts into a smirk as he explains himself. “I’m kidding, Y/N. Not about the fishes, but about why I’m here. I wanted to see you, so I came.”

There’s something that’s really disgustingly cocky and self-centered about him just showing up to your door without warning with the unsaid though obvious expectation of sex. 

And yet, would he be wrong to have that expectation, when so many times before you’ve let him for that exact purpose?

He must be able to see the conflicting thoughts you’re having reflected on your expression, because from behind his back, he reveals a bouquet of flowers. You don’t know how you didn’t notice he was holding them until now, a colorful array of peonies and roses with, upon further inspection, a bunch of cardboard fishes placed among the petals. 

You can’t help but smile as you take them from him.

“I brought flowers?” he says, his voice titled in an expression of this being an olive branch, his way of expressing apology, though for what you don’t know. For showing up here unannounced? For putting you through so much obvious emotional turmoil? You’re not sure. 

There is something at least a little romantic about him boldly showing up at your doorstep instead of waiting for you to respond to his text. Though, through another, more cynical lens, you could also call it kind of creepy. Should you go with the latter interpretation, you know you would be sending the worse kind of message by letting him in anyway. You’d essentially be confirming to him that this relationship is on his terms, that he can show up to your place whenever he wants to get his dick wet, regardless of if you’re busy like you are now.

But isn’t that what this has always been between the two of you? Once again, you feel helpless in the face of the unbounding energy his presence causes. You can only watch the rest of the nights events play out like a bad movie you’ve seen far too many times, like you’re a witness from outside your own body and life.

You walk away from Leehan, leaving your door open so he knows he can come in. You place the flowers neatly on the table next to the entrance. It’s when you face the kitchenette of your dorm that you realize just how cluttered the place is; too stressed about your schoolwork, you haven’t put any thought into keeping it clean.

“Sorry,” you mutter sheepishly under your breath as you hear Leehan come in and close the door behind him. “It’s kind of a mess in here.”

He chuckles, as if to agree without having to say it plainly and hurt your feelings. You turn to face him and find that he’s already looking at you, a penetrating expression on his face as he asks, “Are you okay?”

You’ve never found that question as hard to answer as it is right now, especially when it’s his voice doing the questioning. 

Should you say that you’re on the verge of failing all of your classes, a circumstance you’ve never once had to worry about until he came into your life, causing a whirwhild of uncontainable emotions to take over your life? 

That you’ve been questioning everything when it comes to your own self-esteem and worthiness because it feels like you’re nothing if you’re not validated by the fleeting yet addicting warmth of his gaze and attention?

In the time that it takes you to think, you realize that Leehan has come closer, his body in front of you so that now you can’t escape from the kitchen counter against your back that blocks you in completely. Dazed by the proximity of him, you forget what you were asked, and are grateful when he doesn’t press you for an answer. It’s better for both of you if you don’t respond, anyway, because your honesty would surely kill the mood.

“You know what might make you feel better?” he asks, and you fight back a cynical giggle at the fact that he doesn’t even have to hear you say it to know that you need to be made better. “Fucking the shit out of me.”

As always, his moments of sudden candor simultaneously make you laugh and cringe because of how ill-fitting they are to the persona he occupies in your mind. You’ve always liked how awkward and strange Leehan is, which is why his fuckboy tendencies have always landed uneasily for you. 

It becomes too easy, then, to tease him by pretending you didn’t hear his outward expression of desire. “I don’t like the way you look at people,” you say, trying your hand at his usual divertive tactics. “It’s like you can see through them.”

You can always appreciate how even when you sidestep his advances, Leehan always plays into your banter, never pressuring you into action. “It’s because I can. BOO!” he exclaims, mouth open in an o shape as he childishly expresses fright. You muster a laugh at his playfulness.

After that, you’re both silent, and you know it’s because you’re both tired of playing games. You’re at the point now where it becomes obvious in both of your piercing gazes that you want to fuck, and now it’s just about who will make the move first. 

Suddenly conscious of Leehan’s long hair and how it hangs over the sides of his face, you reach your arms up to take pieces of it into your hands. There’s a rubber band on your wrist that you use to try and put it in a ponytail so you can see his features better, but before you can finish, he takes the opportunity of your increased closness to kiss you. 

The intensity of his kiss knocks the air out of your lungs, and you let go of his hair before you can finish tying it up. Because of your close proximity, it falls over the sides of your own face, obscuring the rest of the world from you so that it’s just him in your vision. 

His hands rest on the apex of your hips, and he pushes you slightly so that you’re completely backed up against the kitchen counter. You’d thought you’d feel more urgent, but your movements are leisurely as you bring your hands to his hoodie and begin to pull at the buttons holding it together. As the fabric begins to sag off his arms, he starts kissing at your neck, and you tilt your head to the side to accommodate him.

Once his shirt has fallen to the ground, you then work to release his cock from the confines of his pants, pushing at the thankfully loose waistband until it springs out against his naked stomach. You jerk him slowly and leisurely but it causes him to groan into your mouth just the same, and soon he’s moving to unbutton your own t-shirt until you’re both naked from the waist up.

“Leehan,” you whimper, as he cups your tits with both hands, “Bed.”

“Which one? I take it your roommate’s is empty?” he replies jokingly, and when you stare at him scathingly, he chuckles. “I’m kidding. Don’t look at me like that or I’ll come in my pants.”

You have no chance to scold Leehan for his teasing any further before he’s picking you up off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist and hands around his neck as he walks habitually to your bedroom. He’s still on top of you even as you feel yourself being lowered onto your bed, mouth on yours in a sloppy kiss while his hands rush to get your pants off. He sits up to kick his own off, and now the two of you are left completely naked. 

This would usually be the point where the two of you would become like animals and rush to fuck as soon as possible. But while standing above your body, you watch as Leehan just stares at your still figure on the bed, taking in every detail with his penetrative, admiring eyes.

“I find you so beautiful,” he softly confesses, caressing the skin on your hip before looking up to meet your shy gaze. “Do you know that?”

It’s unclear whether he’s asking if you know that you’re beautiful, or if you know that he finds you beautiful. Either way, it’s in a moment of sincere honesty that you reply, “Only sometimes.”

Because there are days when you look in the mirror or put on your clothes on your way to campus and feel like your body is less of a home, but a prison that you’re forever doomed to occupy.

And with the emotional rollercoaster that is having sex with Leehan only for him to completely ignore you afterward, you’ve naturally found yourself wondering if the only alluring thing about you is that you’ll let him fuck you with no questions asked. That in a school full of beautiful girls with actual self-esteem, he’s settled for you so long as you continue to provide him with pussy.

Leehan furrows his eyebrows at your response, and with a corrective tone of voice replies, “ Always .” In movements that are slow and gentle, he leans down to lay a chaste kiss on your forehead. Another on the top of your cheek. Another on your ear. And then on every single part of your face that you’d normally consider insignificant. And then slowly down your rising and falling torso. 

“Everything about you. I couldn’t pick a favorite thing because I love every single part of you,” he confesses in a whisper-like tone against your skin. Finally reaching your pussy, he places one last gentle kiss at the top of your mound, something about the gesture making your pussy clench, espeically as he says, “You’re my favorite girl.”

To be affirmed by Leehan in this way is something that causes both your heart to swell and your body to pulse with arousal. But it’s also with a surge of sadness that you wish these words didn’t affect you so monumentally. 

A part of you wants him to stop making remarks of this sort to you during sex because you can never be sure that he truly means them.

But if that’s the case, then why do they feel and sound so genuine?

It’s with shaky resoluteness in your voice that you sit up to look at Leehan, replying, “Then show me.”

And, as if spurred on by the challenge, you can see Leehan’s expression changing even with half of his face obscured by your pussy. “How?” he asks, leaning in to lick teasingly against your clit. “Like this?” 

When he doesn’t wait for your answer and continues sucking and licking against your clit, you throw your head back as you enjoy the physical manifestations of Leehan’s attraction to you. 

If there is any time when you feel most desired and liked by him, it’s when he’s in between your legs, devouring you whole like a man starved. 

He uses his mouth not to tell you sweet-nothings, but to give you some of the best pleasure of your life. And it’s in gestures like these where you can wordlessly understand his devotion to you. 

It’s in your desperation to reach your peak that you begin to buck your hips into his mouth, wanting more of him, but he stops it with both hands that snake up your body and press down on your boobs. He tweaks at your nipples in a way that makes your back arch, but in a gesture that surprises you, he also just rests his hand over your chest, right where your heart is. You wonder if he can feel the fluctuations of your pulse, how it speeds up when his tongue does. Dreamily, the thought of him being so in sync with you that he can feel the intimate beatings of your inner organ sends you into a spiral of heightened satisfaction.

“Leehan, I’m gonna come.”

Even with your eyes closed, you can almost hear the smirk in his voice as he says, “My favorite four words in the world. Go ahead, baby. I’ve got you.”

Somehow, you think your body needed that permission, because it’s only moments later that your orgasm takes over your body. 

Your eyelids are covered with dancing spirals, your spine bends as you arch up into the air, and your body vibrates with a feeling so pleasurable it’s like an addiction, something you’d endure the greatest emotional lows to receive on a regular basis.

As you still, Leehan gets up to sit on his knees, looking over at your bedside dresser. “Still have the condoms where I left them?”

“Top drawer,” you confirm.

“Good girl,” he praises with a smile, reaching over you to rummage through the drawer and coming out of it with a silver packet between his fingers. 

It’s just as he’s finished putting it on and is about to slide in that you raise a hand to stop him, saying, “Leehan wait. I wanna ride you.”

His eyebrows raise at this, but he nonetheless maneuvers so that he’s in a criss-cross position, saying with a grin, “Woah. I feel lucky. You never get on top. Make me do all the work.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, making your way over to him and holding onto his shoulders as you hover over his hardened cock. But before you can take him, he roughly grabs your chin, squeezing your face in his hold in a way that forces your eyes on his.

“Make me,” he asserts, staring at you so intensely that it makes your stomach swoop. Reaching between your bodies, you grab hold of his pulsing erection and line it up with your hole, sinking down on him and loving the way it makes both of your mouths instantly open on impact.

It feels like you’re being split open in the most pleasurable way as you sit down fully on Leehan’s cock and allow the satisfcation of being filled by him to consume you. Driven by the pursuit of your own pleasure, you bounce, swivel, and thrust yourself against him. And when Leehan throws his head back, beautiful neck on display as he growls, “You’re so tight, Y/N,” you’re motivated to go even harder.

Sex with Leehan has never felt more intimate than it does now, when you’re above him and able to catch every small distortion in his gorgeous expression as he gets taken away by the gratification of this sex. Mantaining eye contact with him is nothing new to you now, but even so, you find yourself feeling like his eyes are admiring your soul more than they are your body or face as you bounce up and down for his viewing pleasure.

With your arms wrapped around his neck, you’re skin to skin, heart to heart, and in a way you almost feel like the closeness grants you the telepathic ability to know what he’s feeling and thinking. If there were to be a physical manifestation of the word yearning , it would be this exact moment between the two of you. 

Your expression melts into a smirk as you continue to ride him, and you feel almost motivated to giggle as the pleasure you’re experiencing makes you feel deliriously satisfied and happy. Leehan, with his hands leisurely rested at his sides, scans your face as if trying to memorize every detail, saying, “You make the prettiest expressions when my dick is inside of you. I truly can’t – nphhh – get enough.”

It’s as you begin to set a pace that has the tip of his cock kissing your g-spot with every bounce that you yearn for him to touch you, to light your skin on fire with the warmth of his touch. Anywhere. Everywhere. “Leehan, touch me .”

And it’s because he’s come to know your body so well, know exactly what makes you tick and what places to touch that have you crying in pleasure, he brings his hand to your clit and starts rubbing incoherent shapes into your swelling bud. Your body feels like it’s on fire, so much so that you begin to lose strength in your trembling thighs, something Leehan picks up on as he says almost desperately, “Faster, Y/N. Take it.”

You have to fight through the strain in your legs and the building tension in your stomach in order to begin bouncing on Leehan so hard it’s as if your life depends on it. And though it feels like it’s taking all of the energy in your body, you do it because you want to make him feel good. 

You do it because you want him to continue thinking of you as his favorite girl, even though that statement in itself implies the existence of other girls. 

Even though it feels like every morsel of your self-esteem is shattered in the process, you do it because his attention means so much to you that it blurs everything else.

“ Fuck , I’m gonna come,” you cry out as the pleasure becomes too much, as it begins to feels like everything else in your vision is obscured except for Leehan.

“Open your mouth,” you hear him say, and although your sex-crazed mind can barely comprehend why he’s asking you that, you comply anyways and feel your arousal growing stronger when, to your surpise, he tips your head back with a hand on your jaw and spits into your mouth.

The gesture is dirty and lewd and yet a moan rips out of you just the same, and the closer that your orgasm inches, the less you feel like you’re in control of your body or your reactions. Every thought and will in your brain has been diluted so that your only objective is to reach your peak.

“You like that, pretty?” he asks teasingly, his own orgasm approaching in a way that causes his voice to come out strained and tight. “Let me see what a dirty girl you are. Come all over my cock.”

Whimpers of his name leave your mouth in broken succession, the robustness of your orgasm milking you until your body quite literally collapses against his. And it’s after giving everything that your body could give, your legs trembling and your body screaming out in exhaustion, that Leehan takes over by thrusting wildly up into you. In search of his own climax, you can only whimper weakly into the skin of his neck and allow him to manhandle your limp body up and down his cock.

“I know, I know,” he coos apolgetically in your ear, fucking up into you hard and firmly. “I”m close. Gonna come inside your pretty little pussy.”

With a last thrust so impactful that it resonates throughout your entire body, Leehan releases into his condom, twisting his hips inside of you before pulling out with a groan. You collapse onto the bed together, and even though you can barely feel anything in the bottom half of your body, even though you have the foreboding inclination that it’ll be hard to walk later, you still can’t help the foolish smile that appears automatically on your face. There is no greater high than basking in your post-orgasm haze.

The stillness of the moments you share after sex is something you cling onto every time, wishing that the universe would mercifully turn those seconds of blissful and intimate silence between the two of you into minutes. But like the distant sound of thunder that lets you know that it’s going to rain, you feel the bed dip with the weight of Leehan sitting up, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before he sees himself out.

“You made a mess,” you hear him say as he picks at the fabric of your sheets where, sure enough, the white sheets have been soiled grey. The comment gives you slight butterflies, and as you manage a weak smile, about to reply with something snarky, he says, “Want me to stay behind? Do your laundry?”

If only for a few seconds, you allow yourself to consider the possibility that he’s being serious. That for the first time since you met him, he’s actually going to stay behind and take care of you instead of leaving you wet and limp and naked and sad. You hate how good those few seconds of belief feel. That just the idea of how doing something as simple as your laundry could make you feel so fulfilled and wanted.

At first you’re not sure what to think when he leans down to gently caress the hair on top of your head. But then, with an almost pitying expression on his face, he replies, “I’m just joking. If I hang around for too long, how would you miss me?”

There have been lots of times when Leehan has shown his lack of regard for you in his actions, but never in his words.

So to hear him plainly confirm to you that this is all a game to him, that it’s always been his intention to leave you strung out and wanting more, that he knows the emotional impact his absence causes, hits you like a slap in the face.

He doesn’t have to hide how little he cares about you because he knows that no matter how he treats you, you’ll always come back.

Haven’t you proven that exact notion to him time and time again?

“See you later, Y/N,” he says as he’s leaving your bedroom, a statement that he can make with confidence because you’ve shown him time and time again that he can walk all over you and still be guaranteed access to your body, mind and soul.

And as the reality of the situation that you’ve found yourself in hits you all at once, it’s at the sound of your front door closing that you begin to cry on impact.

Tears that feel endless begin to pour out onto your cheeks until you’re open-mouthed sobbing, and because you’ve spent so long holding these emotions back, they wreck your body until you have no energy left and devolve into soundless heaves.

You fall asleep like this, so emotionally wrecked and confused that you forgot about the three essays you were supposed to submit. 

You’re on the verge of tears as you enter your advisor’s office, sitting down across from the older woman whose passive expression tells you everything you need to know about the sort of news she’s about to deliver to you. But it’s with surprising clarity that you react to her saying, “Y/N, you’ve failed almost every single one of your classes this term.”

You stare blankly at her, processing the emotions that come over you at this news. It’s suprsing to say that the immediate feeling that comes over you is relief, but you owe it to the fact that you’ve been struggling this entire semester, plagued with anxiety as to whether or not you’d fail. And so, to have it finally confirmed after months of stressing about it feels similarly to being in the eye of a storm. 

After struggling for so long, you’re at a vantage point where it feels more comforting to be able to say that all that’s left is for you to fight your way out of the storm entirely. 

“Typically, when students have such large and sudden drops in performance like this, it’s because of some significant life event,” she explains, tilting her head as she looks at you pitifully. “Given that you’re a transfer student, I’m wondering if the transition from your old school to this one had an impact on your performance. Are you finding the academic rigor here harder?”

“No, maam,” you say, shaking your head. Academically, this school has been everything you had been hoping for and more since deciding to transfer. You couldn’t have expected to meet someone who so greatly turned your life around within a matter of months. 

Not sure how to explain the unique set of circumstances leading up to this moment, you vaguely answer, “I’ve just…transparently had a lot going on this semester in my personal life. So I haven’t been as great at prioritizing my classes.”

Humming in understanding, your advisor moves to face her computer. “Well, I’m afraid the next steps are to put you on academic probation for the rest of this semester. Are you aware of what that all entails?”

You shake your head no. Your advisor goes on to explain it to you. “You’ll need to maintain at least a 2.5 grade point average moving forward. Additionally, you’ll be given a tutor – another student who you’ll be mandated to meet with at least once a week to get your grades up.”

There a few telltale clicking sounds from her computer before she’s speaking up again to say, “It looks like the only available tutor for this semester is a student named Han Taesan. Do you know him?”

Admittedly only familiar with the few people who Jaehyun’s introduced you to, you shake your head no. You then have to try and push off the dread that builds inside of you at the thought of having to meet with a stranger once a week for the next two or so months until the semester ends.

You perk up as you watch your advisor’s eyebrows lift in surprise at something on her computer “It looks like he actually has office hours open right now until three. So, after this, I recommend you go see him and introduce yourself. It’s important that you get started right away so that you can begin correcting this situation. The last thing we’d want is for your financial aid to be affected, which – I should mention – will happen if you fail your classes again, Y/N.”

It’s at this warning that the reality of the situation finally hits you. 

As stupid as it now sounds, all of the times when you allowed Leehan to take up so much of your time in lieu of submitting your assignments were aided by a blind faith on your part that everything would work out in the end. 

But it’s in grave realization that you see how much you were gambling with your future by making such poor decisions. 

And with that feeling of shame and embarrassment weighing down on you so heavily, you leave your advisor's office a few short moments later, heading to the library to meet Taesan. 

As you’re leaving, you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket and unlock it to read a text that could not be more ill timed:

>leehan: what are you doing?

There couldn’t be any worse moment now than to receive such a message, after you’ve just been told that you could potentially lose your scholarship over your mindless decision making in regards to this man. And for perhaps the first time since you’ve met Leehan, you decide to let go of this manic-pixie-dream-girl image you’ve created for yourself, typing out a message that relays the completely honesty of your current situation.

>you: leehan, i failed my midterms. They’re putting me on academic probation and i might lose my scholarship. I don’t know that i’ll have much time for our “arrangement” anymore.

You stuff your phone back in your pocket right after sending it, caring little to know what Leehan will say in response. 

It’s in realization that you finally decide that making Leehan’s every thought, feeling and desire a priority in your life is a luxury you can no longer afford.

Arriving at the library a few minutes later, you wa;lw inside and observe how empty the place is. You suppose it makes sense given that most students have left for their fall break by now, not beholden to stay behind because of failing grades like you are. There’s a boy sitting by himself at one of the many tables in the library, a laptop and a few books surrounding him. You decide he’s the most likely to be the person you’re looking for and go up to approach him.

“Excuse me, are you Han Taesan?”

The boy, whose hair is uniquely marked by a streak of blonde in the back of it, looks up at you and nods.

“I’m not sure if you got the notification,” you say, pulling at your fingernails nervously. “But I’ve been assigned a tutor and you’re it. My advisor told me to meet with you today.”

Understanding finally dawning on the boy’s face, he puts down the screen of his laptop so he can fully pay attention to you and your presence. “Okay. What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, and even though everything from his voice and manners should have you inclined to feel less nervous, there’s something about his facial features that have you feeling intimidated. 

He’s quite good looking, but in a way that makes him seem unapproachable. 

“If you’ve been assigned to meet with me, that means you’re on academic probation, correct?”

Something about hearing those words, the assignment of your name next to the phrase academic probation , feels like a knife to the stomach. Still, the only thing you can do is nod grimly, and without intending it, you launch defensively into an explanation. “It’s not something I’m in the habit of, if that’s what you’re wondering. This is my first time, truly, and it’s just because I had a lot going on this semester.”

You expect Taesan to appear annoyed with you, just as you are with yourself when you hear those words leave your mouth. But you’re surprised when instead, he smiles. And when he does, it’s like the intimidating persona you built of him in your head immediately shatters and in place of it, you’re introduced to someone that seems really sweet.

“Listen, I know you’re probably feeling like a total failure right now. I know cause I’ve been there. But you don’t have to explain yourself to me, Y/N. The last thing I want to do is make you feel judged for something that so many students go through,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders to further communicate how little of an issue this is for him. 

“Most of the time, the people I tutor don’t even need me. They’re not dumb, they just were going through something that made them deprioritize their classes. We’ve all been there before. I’m just here to be an accountability partner and help you manage the stress.”

Fighting against all the parts of you that have been feeling shame in response to today’s development, you allow Taesan’s reassurance to wash over you like a cold drink on a swelteringly hot day. 

“You’re…really nice, Taesan,” you reply, thinking of no better way to express your gratitude. “I really needed to hear that.”

“No problem. If you’re free, we can go somewhere else and begin working on those late assignments. I don’t really like staying at the library because we’ll be forced to whisper like this the whole time.”

It’s only at his observation that you become conscious of the fact that you have been indeed whispering this entire time, and it is in fact, very burdensome. “Yeah, you’re totally right. Are you cool with coming to my dorm? I live on campus, in Commons.”

Grabbing his things, he gets up to follow you, and it’s at that moment that you realize just how tall Taesan is. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

Just as you’re about to leave with Taesan, you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket once more. And because you completely forgot about your earlier exchange with Leehan, you don’t even consider that the message could be from him until a picture that you’re immediately swiping out of lights up your phone screen.

>leehan: he misses you :((((( [img_6785]

The image in question is a dick pic, a full frontal image with Leehan’s smartly masked face just barely peeking out at the top as he angles his phone downward. 

You go from surprised to disgusted as you remember what the picture is in response to – a candid expression of anxiety about your academic probabtion – and suddenly, you couldn’t be more sure of the negative impact that Leehan has had on your life.

More sure that if you never heard from him after today, it would be the universe's greatest gift.

“Are you okay?” asks Taesan from beside you, and it’s with great gratitude that you observe his reaction is not that of someone who accidentally saw a dick pic on someone elses phone. Steeling yourself from the shock of the unexpected message, you hum an affirmative sounding noise in reply, and with that, you exit the library. 

You walk together to your dorm that’s only 5 minutes away from the library, and as you walk, you discuss a variety of things. How and why Taesan became a tutor, the circumstances which led to you transferring from your old school, and observations on how empty campus seems to be right now. Taesan, a music major, became a tutor once he learned he could get paid for what he already liked to do, which was teach people. The more you talk to him, the more assured you feel about this arraignment and your situation at large. 

More importantly, Taesan has the ability to do something you thought no man or object could be capable of – he takes your mind off of Leehan, and moreover the picture you just received from him.

Arriving at your front door, you can feel Taesan’s eyes on you as he says, “When I started my day today, I would’ve never guessed it would lead me to a girl’s dorm room.” You giggle at the genuinely funny joke, and now, you’re looking up at Taesan as if you’re fully seeing him for the first time. 

In just a short amount of time, you’re learned that Taesan is handsome, smart, nice, and funny. 

Perhaps something other than good grades could come of this time you’re about to spend together. 

In the time that you spend looking at Taesan, still smiling in the aftermath of his joke as you let him into your dorm room, you don’t notice the fact that Leehan is waiting for you down the hallway, armed once more with a bouquet of flowers. 

After last time, he figured surprise visits would be his thing now, especially since he knew your roommate wouldn’t be there to stop him. 

He wasn’t expecting, though, that there would be someone else who would act as a barrier between the two of you. 

Someone who causes unexplainable anger and resentment to blossom unusually in his chest. 

It’s in a blur of confusion – both at himself for reacting this way and at you for being with someone other than him – that Leehan turns around and rushes for the building’s exit before either of you can see him.

part 4 can be found HERE

taglist: @lailols @papichulomacy @0310s @softiwoon @gardenforwon @cherrytaesan @mryuyux @saintriots @lonelylandofan @cyber-tiny @keyywrld @isabellah29 @amarecerasus @cadidupped

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[jlheon]

୨ৎ — sunny day (sjy)

pairing. fake bf & best friend! sim jaeyun x fem! reader genre. angst wc. 1380 notes. i'm sorry jake sucks here it's jover guys library.

🗯️ etxra peng note. hai this is for @okwonyo's celestial ballet event! guys i don't think this is my best work but i love jake & bea so i had to pick this song!! this might just be word vomit ヽ(´ー｀)

synopsis. you’re sick of the lines of jake and your fake relationship are too blurred

last night you had yet another fight with jake.

jake is your boyfriend, to everyone around you. but behind closed doors, he is nothing but your fake boyfriend. 

he asked you to do him a favor, you owed him after he helped you pass your physics final, but you didn’t think it would involve being dragged along to parties his rich parents hosted.

you both were just now graduating high school and would go your separate ways for college. which in theory sounds good for your lie, the fake relationship could end due to ‘long distance’, but it was not good for your heart.

in the past semester, you fell hard for sim jaeyun.

there was no turning back, you were in too deep. 

he was so sweet to you, in front of others, and behind closed doors. 

though, obviously you both respected each other's boundaries since your relationship wasn’t real. that was until a couple weeks ago.

jake had kissed you when he was drunk and so were you. it was a pretty heated kiss but it didn’t go any further.

unfortunately for you, you still woke up next to him in his room the morning after. 

“you’re awake,” jake breaks the silence, sitting up against his headboard. 

“i am,” you sit up next to him, rubbing your eyes. “did something happen last night?”

“um,” jake clears his throat. “jay said we kissed.”

“what?” you look at him with wide eyes. “like a lot?”

“apparently…” jake says, looking at the photo of sunghoon with you two in the background. it’s barely visible but you can see jake caging you against the wall.

“well, that’s the first and the last time,” you brush it off, stepping onto the floor.

“yup,” jake scratches the back of his neck. “let's go get breakfast.”

that wasn’t the last time. not at all.

since then you have kissed jake a total of ten times. yes, you counted. having taken note of each one and writing about what it felt like in a locked note. 

it was weird to kiss jake, but not in a weird way like you opposed it. admittedly still weird since there was no need for you to kiss. it wasn’t like the cliché movies where your friends would pressure you to kiss to prove your relationship. you even kissed when it was just you and him. 

it was rather pointless but you couldn’t help but wish he would do it every time you were together. which he did up until a couple of weeks ago.

when you two were casually sitting around you got fed up with how the lines of your strictly fake relationship were blurring. it’s not like you didn’t want to be physically affectionate with him you’ve done it all your life, but the kissing was way too much. going way over the walls of your friendship and confusing you. 

when you brought it up to him, asking what you two were even doing anymore, he lashed out. saying that he’s sorry for making you confused but something along the lines of ‘kissing you makes me less stressed’. 

then why doesn’t he just get a real girlfriend then?

though you knew if he were to stage the fake break up with you and move onto another girl you would rip your hair out at the sight. 

it was not the last time you two got into an argument.

you laid your heart out in front of jake. telling him that kissing and physical affection aren’t a what fake couples do. you were basically a real couple at this point.

he did not like it when you brought it up.

“it’s all fake ____,” he told you with his sickeningly sweet honey voice. “stop letting it get to your head.” he ruffled your hair.

at the end of each argument, you always end up in his arms. 

no matter how confusing and short-tempered jake is he never wants to be the reason you’re upset. 

today was different though.

“get out,” you tell him, eyes glued to the floor. 

“excuse me?” jake scoffs.

“you heard me,” you raise your head and attempt to smoothen your voice. “i said get out, jake.”

“you’re being ridiculous ____,” jake shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“i’m not,” you retort, crossing your arms. “i’m sick of this. whatever we have going on.”

“you’re just going to throw away our ten years of friendship?” he seethes.

“i don’t think is just a friendship anymore, jae!” you yell in frustration, walking towards your bedroom window, and opening it to let the fresh air in. 

“how could it not be? nothing between us has changed!” jake argues, grabbing his hoodie and throwing it over his shoulders. 

“everything is different!-”

“nothing is different because this is all fake-”

“fuck off jae, you’re the one who kissed me,” you face the window and let the cool night air hit your cheeks. hoping the tears forming in your eyes would disappear. 

“it was a mistake ____,”  

“then why didn’t it stop after the first time?” you whisper, mostly to yourself but you hope he hears it too over the soft patter of the pouring rain. “just get out.”

you hear the rummaging around behind you of jake putting on his shoes. his shoulder harshly bumped against yours, as he exits through the window and into the dark and rainy summer night.

you don’t sleep at all.

in the morning you are mad at yourself. maybe he’s right, you’re too sensitive. he just kissed you, not confess his love for you. 

for the next day, you stay in your room under the covers. millions of notifications from your phone, all from none other than jake sim. 

you can’t deal with him right now, not today. maybe tomorrow, we’re okay.

while scrolling through your chats you’ve noticed that he only ever texts you at night. call in the morning when you wake. you can’t just give in to him easily no matter how bad you want to be back in his arms even if he acts like your lover one day and like he doesn’t need you the next.

he’s all you know, the only person you can one-hundred percent find comfort in. 

when you finally reach for your phone, sick of the constant vibrations, you press his contact. 

“____?” he answers in his softest voice, you break.

“i’m sorry for yesterday,” you speak, voice up an octave higher than normal. “don’t be mad at me please.” 

“i’m not mad at you,” jake pauses between his sentence and hesitates before his next word. “pretty.” that’s a new nickname.

the call abruptly ended. the shuffling from his side of the line subsided by the sounds of him ending the call. you’re so lazy to call him back, no energy to do anything but lay in your bed.

like clockwork jake’s familiar head of fluffy brown hair appears at your window. sliding it open as gently as possible and letting himself inside. 

you notice the bright sky behind him. the pretty wash of blue that differs from the storm the previous day. a sunny day.

neither of you speak as jake shakes off his sweater and shoes.

he approaches you on the bed, lifting your duvet and sliding into the vacant spot next to you, his spot. 

jake reaches out for you, arms wrapping around your waist as he moves you to settle atop his chest. resting your head in the crook of his neck and his hands in your hair. with your skin on mine again.

“you know i don’t mean it,” jake breaks the silence. “right?”

“mean what?” 

“when i kiss you,” he clarifies. “i didn’t mean for you to take it the wrong way. you’re a great girl ____, i just don’t think we’re right for each other. 

“that’s okay. i can’t imagine losing you because of a breakup,” you lie. you would take all the risks to be with jake sim for real if it meant being with him but that isn’t what your future holds. 

“so we’re good?” jake asks nervously.

“always,” you say, a smile on your face even though you know you should shut this down for your sanity. 

it’s easy if i pretend.

[joostsblog]

i loved to be desired sm omg. Could i request a joost x reader where reader is partying with joost and friends. they meet ski aggu and are chilling and they tell ski that they are super into joost but joost isnt into them and they are sad about it. The ski aggu makes it his mission to make joost jealous to get them together and there is a lil angst but reader and joost end up together and making out.

loved writing this request!! i love shy!joost in this, hope you enjoy!!❣️❣️

is this as good as it gets? ~ joost klein one shot

My masterlist here ✨💌

Pairing: Joost Klein x female!reader (also Ski Aggu x reader if you squint ig)

Description: When you almost lose all your hope getting with Joost, Aggu proposes an interesting idea to get the two of you together.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: title and also vibe inspired by as good as it gets by fizz so i highly rec giving that song a listen! again, you can still send in requests 💌

Warnings: consumption of alcohol and cigarettes, not proofread

You should write Mel a thank you note, really. For one because she always lets you crash at her place whenever you visit Berlin (which happens to be very frequently, actually) but also for tagging along to her party nights with her Berlin friends which also include the famous German rapper Ski Aggu and his dutch friend Joost who you couldn't seem to keep your eyes from. Ever since you first met last time you were in Berlin (which was only three weeks ago) you were crushing on the man - hard. And suddenly you were pretending you knew more about music than you actually did just so you could try to hold a conversation with Joost. And you stepped out one time too many to smoke a cigarette with him when you usually smoked maybe two cigarettes within one year. And overthinking whatever you should wear to go out with Mel and all her friends without even knowing if Joost was gonna be there that evening as well.

And when you decided to visit Mel again just three weeks after having been the last time ("Already?"), maybe Joost was a deciding factor as well. You didn't even know if he was gonna be in Berlin around the same time as well but you were in luck when you and Mel walked into the bar and you could see Joost's figure sitting beside Aggu. You tried to play it cool as you greeted everyone and finally got to Joost.

"So nice to see you again," you said earnestly as you both hugged.

"Likewise," Joost said and gently rubbed your back. You hoped that he wasn't just being polite and actually remembered you.

You were also in luck when there was a free spot beside Joost which you could take as you tried to casually open a conversation with him, talking about whatever the two of you had been up to in the last few weeks. You talked about his hometown, your hometown, why you were visiting Berlin so often and how you were thinking of moving here. You could tell that Joost was taking interest in the conversation and by extension you, but it wasn't enough for you. You knew that you wanted Joost in other ways and you wondered how and if you could persuade him of you.

"I'm getting a new drink," you announced. "Does anybody want anything?" you asked and hoped Joost would say something or offer to come with you to the bar.

"Actually, I'll go with you," Ski Aggu offered instead.

"Alright," you smiled and you two headed off to the bar.

The bar was incredibly crowded and you could already tell that you would have to wait a while until the bartender would get around to take your orders. You leaned against the counter.

"So, does Joost visit here often?" you asked and immediately regretted it as it came out way too obsessively as you had intended to. Aggu laughed.

"Why do you want to know?" he asked amused.

"I don't know, just because I don't live here as well," you tried to casually explain.

"Yeah, well, he's working on new music currently, so he comes here a lot," Aggu said and paused as he seemed to contemplate for a moment. "Joost is cute, right?" he tested you. Blood rushed to your head.

"I suppose," you shrugged nonchalantly.

"Nah, come on, he's very cute, we can agree on that," Aggu pushed jokingly.

"I imagine most girls would agree," you said.

"Maybe, but I'm talking about you," Aggu said and poked your shoulder as he said the last word. "Do you think he's cute?" he asked again. "Or sexy or dreamy or whatever?"

"Yeah, I think Joost is very cute," you blushed. "Is it obvious?" you asked.

"Well, I think Mel mentioned how you're not a smoker when we first met and suddenly Joost is here and all of a sudden you're out with him for a smoke every hour or so," he teased and you hid your face behind your hands in embarrassment.

"Oh god," you groaned.

"Nah, come on, it doesn't matter," Aggu said. "Nothing to be embarrassed about," he insisted and removed your hands from in front of your face.

"Yeah, but Joost definitely doesn't like me," you explained with a saddened expression on your face. Aggu raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know that?" he inquired.

"I don't know, I just feel like he's deliberately treating me like a friend, you know, in a very platonic way only," you tried to explain. "Like he's very persistent about me just being a friend - if that," you said. Aggu looked sceptical.

"Listen, I don't know if Joost likes you back but I do know that he's a little awkward about flirting and expressing his feelings and whatever," he said. "He might need a little help to push him along," Aggu said with a knowing smile. You looked at him with a confused expression on your face. "You can say no to this if you want, but I have an idea for us," Aggu said and you nodded, indicating for him to keep going. "What if we both do a little thing to make Joost jealous?" Aggu proposed and your heart started racing.

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"Let's just try for tonight to spend a lot of time together, laughing a lot, sitting very close to each other, touching, flirting and just rubbing it in Joost's face that you're having a great time with me?" Aggu explained. "In fact, I saw Joost looking over at us standing here a few times already," Aggu pointed out and you looked over to the table where all your friends were sitting and as your gaze crossed Joost's eyes he immediately averted the gaze and looked in another direction. "We've got nothing to lose, either way the outcome, we'll just have a fun evening together," Aggu concluded.

You contemplated Aggu's idea for a second before you decided that he was right - you had nothing to lose. Aggu obviously was a nice and handsome guy so you wouldn't mind having a fun evening with him as well.

"Alright, it's a deal," you said with a smile and extended your hand before Aggu took it for a handshake.

"Alright, let's start with me buying you a drink," Aggu grinned and moved to stand closer to you. You casually rested your hand on Aggus bicep as you kept talking until the bartender finally took both of your orders.

"Is this okay?" Aggu asked as his arm wrapped around your waist to hold you.

"Yes," you said and you wondered whether Joost could see you right now, what he would feel at the sight of you two being so close to one another. "Thanks for the drink," you said and cheered your cup to Aggu's after you got your drinks.

"Scoot over," Aggu directed Joost as you got back to your table. You could read a confused expression on Joost's face for just a second before he darted his eyes back and forth between you and Aggu quickly. As Joost moved over from his spot Aggu could now sit beside him and you could take your seat beside Aggu.

As you were talking with Aggu you made an effort to seem careless and laugh at every joke he made, softly grazing his arm if the chance occurred or bite your lips as you watched his face. It took everything in you to look to the left of Aggu to check on Joost. You were so desperate to see whether he was fazed by your spiel. But you knew you needed to ignore him for the time being. Aggu took the biggest leap so far when he casually wrapped his arm around your shoulders to bring you closer to him as you giggled.

"Alright, I'm going for a smoke," Joost announced almost immediately after. Aggu's arm dropped from your shoulder as you both had to move over to let Joost out of the booth. After Joost got out he stood there for a moment looking down at you with a blank expression. Did he wait for you to join him for a cigarette as you always had in the past? Surely not, you thought before Joost turned around to get outside alone.

~

Joost leaned against the wall outside as his cigarette was slowly nearing its end. Usually, you would be leaning against the wall beside him as well and he would intently listen to whatever story you were telling him, always grateful that you were so good at making conversation. If it weren't for that fact you might as well would have never talked to each other. And although Joost tended to be a little quieter around you, he was hanging onto every word you said. The truth is, Joost was a little shy around you because you mattered to him. Because he liked you, he was way too afraid to mess something up. So he stood back instead.

But now he was cursing himself for doing so. Because apparently now you had enough of him and instead you were attached at the hip with Aggu. And the situation was made worse by the fact that Aggu was Joost's friend. He was annoyed at Aggu for snatching you away from him but he knew he shouldn't feel angry and instead be happy for his friend.

Joost flicked his cigarette to the ground and stumped it out before he decided to get back inside. As he looked over to the table where you and your friends sat he caught your gaze. You were sitting on Aggu's lap, your arm wrapped around his shoulders. Joost stood still, the sight really making him not want to sit back down beside you. Aggu leaned into you and whispered something into your ear as you were still looking over at Joost who couldn't hide the sad expression on his face.

Joost felt uncomfortable and looked down at his phone before he decided to step out again instead of sitting back down at the table. Time for another cigarette or just maybe go back home already. As Joost lit the cigarette in his hand, the door to the bar opened again and you stepped out into the cold.

"Hey," you said softly.

"Hey," Joost replied with a nod. "Want one?" he asked and held out his hand with his pack of cigarettes. Your arms were crossed in front of your body because of the temperature. You looked down at his offer before you declined.

"You know I usually don't smoke," you admitted.

"Really?" Joost asked with a raise of an eyebrow. "That's news to me," Joost said although it really shouldn't come as a surprise to him as he noticed that you never carried your own pack of cigarettes.  

"I know," you laughed. "Are you having a good evening?" you asked.

"Not really," Joost admitted honestly.

"How come?" you asked and Joost didn't answer. Instead, he just shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. You could feel an aura of sadness radiating from him and you suddenly felt really bad for the spiel you and Aggu had been doing tonight. Although you still didn't know how Joost felt about you, you wondered if you had somehow contributed to his bad mood tonight.

"How long are you staying in Berlin for?" Joost asked after he released a puff of smoke.

"Another two days," you said. "You?" you asked in return.

"'M leaving next week," Joost said. "You should come back soon," Joost tried nonchalantly, giving you a sign that he cared about you in some way.

"You think?" you said with a smile.

"Yeah, you're fun to have around," Joost said.

"Well, I'm sorry if I haven't been around you tonight a lot," you said earnestly.

"It's fine," Joost said. If he had the confidence of Aggu, Joost would only have to take one step forward to engulf you in a kiss. "Can't blame Aggu," he said and immediately realised the implication of his words. He looked up at you again and saw a smirk on your face.

"You know me and Aggu aren't actually-," you tried to explain. "We're just friends," you said and Joost could feel a blush creeping on his face.

"Oh?" Joost said.

"Yeah, I'm interested in someone else actually," you said.

"Oh," Joost stated.

"If only he would notice already," you said and looked Joost deeply in the eyes.

"Maybe he's too shy," Joost offered.

"He doesn't have to be," you said and stepped towards Joost. You reached out for his hand and took the cigarette before you put it to your mouth to take a drag. As you let it fall to the floor Joost slowly and carefully reached out his arm to your hip without actually laying his hand on there. You stepped just a little closer until his hand touched your hip and you were standing so close you had to look up to him. "He could just kiss me," you said and it wasn't long before Joost leaned down, his hand finding the back of your neck, and his lips attached to yours.

You approvingly hummed into the kiss. Joost's lips tasted of beer and smoke but it was a divine taste to you as your lips started moving against each other in sync. You rested your hands on Joost's chest where you could feel his calm breathing. Joost's hands tangled in your hair as your lips parted to taste each other on your tongue. Your head was spinning, heart racing as you finally got what you had been looking for since the night you first met Joost.

As you pulled back from the kiss Joost cupped your face and looked down at you with a sheepish grin on his face.

"We should've done this way sooner," he stated.

"That's what I've been saying!" you laughed before you leaned back in for another kiss.

[httpsserene]

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝟑: 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: your boyfriend has to make an appearance at some sponsor event. he's gone ahead and bought you an alluring outfit, but he failed to mention how seductive he looks in the new fitted suit his team got him. you two won't be staying long, but you increase the pace by riling him up, mostly unintentionally. so it's your fault that he makes you ruin his loaned mclaren. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. squirting. car sex. semi-public sex. ooc (out-of-character) oscar. overstimulation. mild possessive behavior. mild jealousy. vaginal fingering. vaginal sex. condom usage. the audacity of men. lando norris’ savior complex /jk. author’s overuse of italics and run-on sentences. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: water • tyla

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: what can i say, y'all. back at it with the unhinged thirst. every time i do one of these, they've been getting shorter and shorter. don't be afraid, for #4 (dr/mv) i'll be back on my game, they deserve it. yes gremlin lando appearance. also, i cannot imagine oscar ever acting this way, that's why i put the ooc tag? it's definitely a fun read tho (i think), along with the smut! thank you, loves, for the support on this event!

want to be added to my general taglist? or my f1 kinktober taglist? send me an ask!

thank you to my betas! @biancathecool for helping with my grammer and @barnestatic for her wonderful spoiled brat idea :))))

cross-posted on my ao3, httpsss

if you want to look at what i'm planning for ktober, or catch up on previous uploads here's my f1 kinktober masterlist and my general masterlist for all of my works!

oscar is known for his unfazed, composed and collected demeanor. he’s aware that some people say he has no personality–but, he’s just an introvert at the end of the day. oscar’s a man of few words: that’s what people who aren’t well acquainted with him would say. if you’ve had the pleasure of sticking around oscar long enough for him to become comfortable with you, you’ll learn that oscar has an incredibly complex personality. he’s overly sarcastic, has a niche sense of humor, and can ramble endlessly at you. but, he’s still a fairly calm and quiet individual. which is why the way oscar is about to scream at the top of his lungs in the middle of this mclaren event, would be considered uncharacteristic of him.

he originally invited you to join him tonight thinking that having you by his side would eliminate the social exhaustion he experiences at these types of sponsor events. however, the aussie failed to realize that you may introduce a…different problem, to tonight’s business party. when oscar asked you to join him two weeks ago, he was prepared for all of your objections–you’re both chronic homebodies, and you both hate partaking in small talk with balding, later-aged, cologne-drenched, white men who don’t know when to let a conversation die. he chose the perfect time to ask you (after you emerged from the bathroom post-self-care bath), and addressed all of your grievances. 

oh, you don’t have anything to wear? he already bought you an outfit, had it altered to perfectly fit your measurements, and bought you a pair of heels and a purse to match. oh, you won’t be able to get your hair done in time? he already scheduled an appointment with your usual hairstylist the day before the event, paid all of her fees, and tipped her very nicely. oh, your nails aren’t done?  he booked you a spot at your preferred nail salon for a premium mani-pedi, and has a few nail inspiration photos picked out if you can’t decide. if you need your lashes done or need to get waxed, he can make the call right now; he has them on standby to fit you in.

knowing the amount of phone calls oscar had to partake in to arrange all of this causes you to fold and agree to join him. there’s nothing more the two of you hate than making phone calls–well, besides the pr events.

oscar had chosen an alluring burnt-orange mesh corset and matching ruched ankle-length skirt that looks beautiful against your warm, soft and shining brown skin. your hair is silk-pressed, length reaching your mid-back and your edges are laid in a minimal manner, matching the simplicity of your makeup look. simple gold rings are spread across a few fingers, ears accessorized with a pair of small good hoops oscar gifted you, and his initials rest in the dip between your clavicles attached to a thin gold chain. objectively, you're considerably modestly dressed, the only skin you're showing is on your arms, shoulders, a smidge of your decolletage, and the tops of your feet in the low-heeled strappy sandals. 

this is the start of what oscar failed to account for. he didn’t expect the outfit to hug your curves like plastic wrap. the whole night he’s had to forcefully deny himself the opportunity to stare at your ass, but that doesn’t mean the other men at the event have the same courtesy. he’s taken to burning holes with his eyes into anybody who lets their gaze linger over your form for a second too long. on a regular day, oscar is generally unaffected by anyone who appreciates your body (they can look, but the second they try to touch–you let them know exactly how they had you fucked up), but if he catches one more mclaren engineer undressing you with their eyes–he will make zac fire all of them; he’ll plan his own race strategy and do his goddamn pitstop by himself.

oscar also didn’t account for how your timid and sweet attitude would have everyone enamored with you; at first, watching everyone eagerly attune to your shy words was amusing to him, but it quickly became a nuisance. he was originally leading you around the room, doing his rounds at any important figures’ tables, and everything was fine. and then, oscar had made the obvious mistake of making you laugh–a pleasant stream of giggles spilling from your lips, dimples deepening, and smile widening at whatever small joke he made. he’s always thrilled to see how you throw your head back in amusement, how your hands clap together gleefully, and how your eyes squint in from the force of your laughter. as he shakes himself out of your dazzling trance, he attempts to rejoin the conversation–but every single person at the table remains entranced and wide-eyed at you. 

this would be completely fine, of course, if it was a one-off occasion; but it’s not. 

suddenly, every person oscar tries to thank for supporting mclaren, starts ignoring him and paying more attention to you. he’s literally the pilot of the car that these people are spending an absurd amount of money on, but they can’t even bother to try and pretend to listen to him. men and women alike are finding any excuse to prolong conversations with you, and even lean within your personal space with the excuse that ‘they can’t hear you very well because you’re so soft spoken.’ nobody can invade your personal space, but oscar. he has no choice but to do the very thing he hates–pda. you continue to circle around the room, his hand constantly resting on the small of your back or the dip of your waist. when you’re in the middle of listening to some completely unnecessary story a man is telling you, oscar constantly adjusts your hair, plays with your rings, and smooths down your skirt if he feels like they’re trying too hard. you banish oscar to getting you a glass of water when he begins to interject in conversations in a passive-aggressive manner.

his third strike off the night, might actually be an overall win in his books. when you saw oscar in his new fitted suit, you stared him dead in the eye and told him to ‘get naked and rail you’. it’s this beautiful deep cream color that pairs perfectly with the dark orange tone of your outfit, but the vest underneath the suit jacket highlights his tiny waist so clearly that it makes you want to scream. in between socializing, you overwhelm oscar with compliments, unable to stop telling him how handsome he looks. you surgically attach yourself to his side and hug his arm; taking an occasional squeeze of his bicep, playing with his cufflinks, and tracing the veins on the back of his hand. oscar practically runs to get you a refill of water because he’d be unable to stop himself from getting fully hard if you touched him any longer–the trousers hide nothing.

he can feel your burning gaze from across the room, and turns back to watch you after asking a waiter for water, and catches your eyes roaming the length of his body. in high-definition, he sees your tongue wetting your lips before you bite at your bottom lip–and then, your attention is stolen away from some random man who’s introducing himself to you and the group of ladies you found yourself accosted by as soon as oscar left your side.

and, that’s it for oscar. he thinks he may have heard his last-fucking-button being pressed inside his head, and seethes. he goes to push off from his leaned stance against the counter and makes to start his warpath, but a hand grasps at his shoulder. oscar turns around snappily, biting out an irritated and sarcastic, “can i help you?”

“woah! calm down now, mate. thought you were going to bite my head off for a second,” it’s lando, “if i were anybody else i’m sure there would be an unfortunate tabloid of ‘how oscar piastri is the most rude f1 driver on the grid’” lando jokes teasingly, yet a hint of seriousness leaks into his tone. 

oscar nods, understanding the underlying warning within the brit’s teasing. he apologizes softly to lando, before glancing back over at you, and can infer that you charmingly informed the man that you have a boyfriend—based on the way you point in his direction. oscar watches the polite smile fade from your face as the man continues to bother you, and the murderous look rises to his face again.

“OKAY”, lando claps abruptly, startling not only oscar, but everyone in a 10 foot radius. lando waves everyone else’s eyes away, smiling like he didn’t do anything, and speaks underneath his breath, “go. i’ll cover for you.”

oscar’s mouth drops open, baffled, “what?”

“leave—get your girlfriend and go,” lando says matter-of-factly, his smile becoming genuine, “zac probably won’t like to hear that you looked particularly murderous, and he definitely won’t like hearing that you slaughtered our sponsors, and that i let it happen.”

oscar snorts before he thanks lando sincerely, and the brit dismisses him, “i’m just looking out for my rookie teammate as the senior driver for our team. i can’t let your horny teenage mindset become common knowledge to our esteemed guests.”

“first of all,” oscar says dryly, his grateful mood dissipating at the mocking, “i didn’t even know you knew the word ‘esteemed' existed,” lando scoffs, “and secondly, you are literally only two years older than me.”

lando looks at oscar with a blank stare and deadpans, “do you want to leave or not?”

oscar daps up his teammate in farewell, and makes his way over to you as quickly as he can without seeming desperate, your glass of water left behind on the counter. your back is facing him as he approaches and you're still unwillingly participating in conversation with the man who can’t take no for an answer. as he gets closer, he can piece together the conversation; the dude doesn’t believe you have a boyfriend and you must be lying to him, and you’re adamant that your boyfriend is very real.

“look, bro. even if i was lying about having a boyfriend, why would i give you my number now? like, i’m just supposed to forget how you’ve been harassing me—“

oscar rests his hand on your side, and when you turn your head to see who’s touching you, he leans down and kisses you. it’s a kiss deep enough to let everyone know who you’re leaving with tonight, but not deep enough to be salacious (he can hear lando’s cackle from the other side of the room).

you melt into his kiss before he pulls away, leaving you dazed and disoriented, stumbling into him. oscar drapes his left arm around your shoulder, guiding you to tuck into his side, while he offers his right hand to the offending man for a handshake. “it seems i haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet. i’m oscar, i drive for mclaren,” he introduces himself, sounding overly pleased.

the man angers, ignoring oscar’s extended hand and cockily states, “you should already know who i am. my family nicely lent you the mclaren you drove here tonight!”

“ah,” oscar smiles viciously, “if ‘your family’ kindly lent me the car, that would explain why i only remember your father’s name–and not his arrogant, disrespectful, and narcissistic trust-fund son’s name.”

the man stomps his foot in rage, like a spoiled brat, and questions, “who do you think you’re talking too?!”

oscar smirks, “nobody important, apparently,” (one of the ladies listening whispers a quiet ‘damn, that’s crazy’), oscar continues, “don’t worry, mate–i’ll make sure your father’s car returns home to him safely. should i bill you for any cleaning, in case i make a mess of it?”

the guy stumbles over a response before he scoffs and stomps away. oscar shrugs uncaring, before addressing the group of ladies who were cliqued to the side watching the whole interaction, “well. if you all don’t mind, i’m just going to steal her away from you ladies, if that’s okay?” (like there’s an option). the ladies fawn over oscar’s protectiveness before they let the two of you go, and then he starts herding you towards the exit.

it’s torture. in every five steps the two of you take, you're interrupted by various guests trying to catch you one last time. oscar feels like they’re all intentionally aggravating him; patting you on the arm, commenting on how eye-catching you look, and using the fact that the two of you are leaving to press a kiss to your hand in goodbye. you two burst out of the main doors and sigh in relief, for different reasons–for you, it’s because oscar didn’t give one of his sponsors brain damage, and for oscar, it’s because he’s one step closer to getting you in his bed.

you grasp at oscar’s hand, and he starts to lead you down the steps towards the valet, and as you fall into step at his side, you speak softly under your breath, “i can understand why you kissed me like that inside because the dude was being an asshole–even though you were marking your territory like some kind of dog–but, please; don’t tear this poor man’s throat out for helping me into the car.”

the australian remains quiet, properly chastised and works on releasing the pent up effect of the annoyances from inside the venue. everything is going well; the valet asks oscar for his parking ticket, and he goes to grab the keys, but stops just before he makes to start heading to the car, and turns back to you two and says, “i don’t know if i told you when you walked in but–you look incredibly beautiful tonight, miss. you could be a model, seriously. like, you should feel so lucky to have a woman like her–”

all attempts of oscar finding his peace are thrown out of the window. he interrupts the dude’s rambling, and bites out, “hey man, y’know what. i can just take the keys to the car. we can walk to it.”

the valet stutters, confused, “a-are you sure, i mean it’s like pretty far in the back. i can run and get it no pro–”

“it’s FINE! i mean, it’s cool, we can use the extra steps, y’know. enjoy the breeze and everything,” oscar says, slightly maniacal. there’s no breeze, it’s warm. the valet’s and your eyes meet for a second and a shared thought of “he’s trippin” is passed telepathically.

the valet concedes, not wanting to upset the f1 driver any farther and tosses him the keys. as the two of you are passing by, oscar hands the man a bill that’s probably too big based on the man’s astonished gasp. you call out to the man, continuing to walk further in the lot, “sorry about him! he just gets a little touchy about strangers driving his car, y’know?” oscar grumbles lowly next to you, and you smack him on the arm, “what did you want me to say? ‘oh sorry, my boyfriend just wants to fuck me really badly to soothe his needless jealousy?’”

“as long as he knows who’s the one who gets to take you home and fuck you.”

“oscar!” you squeak, “we both know we’d die of embarrassment if you said that. i can’t even imagine those words coming out of your mouth, in that order.”

you guys eventually puzzle out where the car is after several remote beeps of the car’s horn, and find that it’s literally tucked away in the last row, far corner with no surrounding cars for two rows.

oscar doesn’t open your door like he usually does, and leads you around to the driver's side. he opens the door, pushes the seat back as far as it goes, and sits down. without saying anything, he loosens his tie and goes to unbuckle his belt before you reach down and grab at his hand, bewildered, “oscar jack! what the fuck are you doing?”

he blinks, “i’m fucking you, right now. it’s too long of a drive back—i’m going to crash the car if you keep sitting next to me in that goddamn outfit. i was going to take you to the bathroom inside, but i figured you’d at least prefer the car. you can be a little louder here.”

your mouth dries, “you said they loaned you an incredibly rare, vintage mclaren, babe. i’m not gonna-“

oscar wrestles his way out of his suit jacket, spreads it underneath him on the leather seat, and pats his lap. “problem solved.”

shifting your weight, you glance around nervously. oscar is right, you would prefer the car over the bathroom. all those people inside who could overhear, gossip, and spread the news of how rookie mclaren, f1 driver, oscar piastri, had you yelling his name in the middle of an event. you’d pass.

“oh, c’mon now, babe. you didn’t think i saw the way you were eating me alive with your eyes inside,” your boyfriend teases, “i know you‘ve at least gotten a little wet for me already, haven’t you?”

that’s all it takes; the australian acting possessive and feening to get inside you is more than enough to have you straddling his lap and pulling the car door shut with a slam.

oscar tugs you into dirty make out, and you get lost in his pink lips, tugging teeth, and explorative tongue. the last of your breath tapers out in a reedy moan, and you break the kiss to pant against his lips, and oscar laughs. his laughter spreads through your chest, and it has your hips rolling against the bulge you feel underneath you. his amusement is cut off, and his hands fly to grip at your hips. he starts tugging you against him in a filthy grind, and choked off moans from the two of you start to fill the car.

you press kisses to oscar’s jaw line, paving a path down to his wide strong neck with your tongue. you suck on small patches of skin, not using enough suction to leave a mark, but enough for oscar to become aware of the fantasization that you could. the aussie gasps at every random suckle of your lips as he scrambles to pull the skirt up your legs. you shift your hips up to make it easier for him, as your hands feel down his torso to his belt. it unbuckles fairly easily, and you shove it out of the way, to unzip the slacks and pull his cock out.

oscar moans, throwing his head back at the feel of your hand on his length, and you get entranced in the trap that his pale thick neck is, again. you hum against his neck, introducing teeth alongside the ache of the suction of your mouth, and bully the collar of his shirt out of the way to find a space to leave a few marks. oscar’s breath freezes at the first hickey he feels you leave, but the rapid inhale he takes next clears his mind enough to have his right hand pull your panties to the side, and move to caress your heat.

you shudder on top of him, your breathy sigh amplified within the car. oscar sinks two fingers inside of you, and a much louder moan is tugged out. your hands fly up to grasp onto his shoulder, and your head tilts backward away from his neck in pleasure. his fingers thrust into you gently for a few beats slowly working to open you up for him and once he feels your cunt starting to relax, his thumb reaches to press at your clit. whines fill the air, as you lean all the way back, resting your back on the steering wheel allowing oscar all the space he needs to stretch you out. his fingers start curling as they drag out of you, and you can feel the pads of his fingers rubbing over a soft spot on the front of your walls. 

oscar’s eyes were stuck marveling over the overwhelmed expression on your face, but once he starts feeling wetness dripping down his arm he glances down, and curses out a rough, “fuck, baby—you’re dripping all over me.” your cheeks burn hot, and you can’t tell if that’s out of humiliation or the effect of his awe-filled voice. your right hand releases his shoulder, and bats at his arm, before tugging at his wrist to pull his fingers out, “that’s enough, mmm, just get in me already.”

oscar eagerly draws away; he uses his clean hand to tug his wallet out of his back pocket, and tugs a condom out with a smidge of struggle before handing it to you. you snatch it out of his hand, biting it open and rolling it over his cock, and once it’s on, you tease, “jeez, osc. you really were planning on jumping me in the middle of the event tonight—grabbing a condom and everything; you think i’m that easy?”

he chuckles, satisfied, his hand drenched in your wetness rubbing over his cock to get him slick, and teases back, “you’re about to ride my cock in the parking lot of said event, pretending to be worried about ruining the seats of this vintage car. i’m not calling you easy, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, does it?”

your cheeks are definitely burning from humiliation this time around, but you huff, ignoring him checking you. you tug his hand away, raising your hips, and guide him to your entrance with your own hand, before slowly sinking down. 

twin sets of moans fill the air as he bottoms out; one of his hands reaches to palm at your ass (it’s sticky, so it must be the one he fingered you with), and the other grips at your waist tightly. you squirm on top of him, knees barely managing to find enough room to prop on the seat to give you a stable base. once you feel stable in your cramped position, you give a testing grind of your hips, and from there, it’s lights out.

oscar lets you set the pace for a few thrusts, suffering in the languid rock of your hips; you’re torturously tight around him, and he can only groan at the feeling of you wrapped around him. his chest heaves, before he brings both hands to halt your hips, and starts fucking up into you rough and quick. a scream jostles out of your throat at the unexpected change of speed, but you just take it with no complaints, allowing yourself to go limp against the wheel of the car to hold your body upright. he moves your body for you, pulling you downwards to meet his upward thrusts; and you feel him constantly applying pressure against that one tender spot right under your navel.

your boyfriend revels in the sound of the moans he’s punching out of your throat, admiring the way your head is thrown back—mouth open wide, eyes scrunched tight, lips bruised and bitten to hell. it’s a lewd picture, painted by himself. the car rocks along to his frantic rhythm, windows fogging, and sweat begins to form on both of your skin. the aussie’s core tightens; he won’t last much longer, you’ve had him half-hard the whole night.

a frustrated grunt escapes oscar, and you hum questionably about to ask what’s wrong–but his right hand leaves your waist to furiously start circling your clit, and an ear piercing shriek leaves you. “c’mon now, babe. ah-be good and come f’me yeah? im so close, baby–please,” he babbles, the last shred of sanity leaving him. his hips don’t falter once–to you it feels like they’re moving quicker, every sensitive spot receiving attention from the sharp snaps of them.

you cry out, it’s all too much; your hand reaches down to press against his navel in a feeble attempt to stop him from stroking so deep and roughly, and incoherent pleads try and tumble out of your mouth, “mm! osc–no! ah–too much, baby! it’s too much–hngh–feels weird–s-slow down!” it’s like his ears are filled with cotton; he can hear you begging down at him but can’t make out what your saying over the blood rushing in his ears. he’s trapped staring at your pretty cunt, watching the obscene amount of wetness coming out of you–the suit jacket underneath him is completely ruined, and he off-handedly thinks it won’t be saving the leather upholstery.

your legs start quivering and trembling–it damn near looks like you're freezing to death, even though the car has become as humid as a sauna. your own orgasm shocks you, and your eyes roll back erotically–unable to give oscar any warning. and in your last moment of awareness, you realize that something feels different, but it’s too late.

you choke on your scream of, “oscar, fuck!” as fluid gushes out of your cunt, and the first wave is enough to completely drench oscar’s pants, and oscar finally returns to the moment in amazement. he eagerly brushes his hand against your clit, and shortens his strokes to quick little jabs to force more of your juices out, and you can only ride along. you try to slam your legs shut, to jostle oscar’s hand away, but it’s futile with his torso propping you open for him. you’re sobbing messily, as he forces more liquid to spray from your cunt–and he moans out his own orgasm, ripped from him in surprise. the australian halts his stimulation this time around when you frantically tug his wrist away when the pleasure melds to pain, and allows himself to get a few more jerks of his hips in.

you fall forward, collapsing into his chest–the squelch of your thighs meeting his pant-covered ones has him humming and grinding his hips into you as gently as he can. the two of you shake against each other, hearts rabbiting as you catch your breath. oscar’s hands rise to rub at your back, bringing you down from the aftershocks still trembling over your body. 

“i-i’ve never squirted before,” you whisper into his neck.

your boyfriend hums softly, “did you like it?”

he feels you nod against him shyly.

“then, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he comforts, knowing if he seems approving of it, you’ll be quicker to accept it as something good, “how i’m going to explain the ruined suit and car seat to mclaren on the other hand…”

a shaky laugh from you causes oscar to smile, “i told you you shouldn’t fuck me in the car.”

“how was i supposed to know that tonight would be the night i’d made you gush all over me?! i was hoping that when the time came we’d at least be on a couch,” he whines.

“shut the fuck up,” you joke, “i want a live play by play when you explain the cleaning bill to zac.”

the aussie pauses, faking thoughtfulness, “maybe i should send the bill to the trust-fund baby. zac would back me up–he’s american, he’d probably find it hilarious.”

oscar gently shifts you over to the passenger seat, and you tug your skirt all the way down, and he fights his way out of his slacks that stuck to his thighs with your wetness. he manages to wrangle them off and kicks them to the side of the car floor along with the soiled suit jacket, after fishing the keys out of them, sitting out in his boxers, and glances over to see you adjusting your appearance as best as you possibly can.

“you want a mcflurry?” the aussie offers.

“as long as we can get a fry with it,” you smile at the random shift in conversation, allowing him to hide his embarrassment.

oscar turns the keys in the ignition, and the engine rolls into life with a deep, vibrating hum. he catches your legs pressing together tightly, and you squirm at the purr of the engine under your seat.

“well,” oscar starts nonchalantly as he reverses out of the spot, “you have the time that it takes to get from the drive-through to the flat to finish eating–because as soon as we get home, i’m taking you to bed and learning how to make you squirt, consistently. i don’t care how long it takes, or how many orgasms you have–i’ll keep going ‘til you come dry, babe.”

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