#had to stand there for a minute to process what he said

[calaisreno]

Imagine

1024 words / Prompt: Empty

Let’s say it didn’t happen that way. Instead, let’s say John looks up a moment sooner, and sees Sherlock approaching. He has a minute to process what he sees instead of realising it later, when the waiter is rambling on about vintages and stranger’s gazes….

Maybe he’s just had a thought about Sherlock, about how he wouldn’t be sitting here with a ring box if Sherlock hadn’t died. He might be a bit sad, trying to buoy himself up to smile when Mary returns, and he looks up to check whether she’s on the stairs yet— and he sees Sherlock instead.

And Sherlock— let’s say he’s had a giddy thought about pretending to be a waiter, but now he’s seen John’s face and isn’t sure what to do. He’s come through the door, and the headwaiter’s phone is buzzing, and he’s just staring at John. 

Maybe John thinks it’s an hallucination. Maybe he’s seen Sherlock (ghost? Vision? Hallucination?) before now— across a crowded street, disappearing into a Tesco or coming up from the underground. Maybe he’s heard that voice. (Sitting in his chair one evening, a voice drifts up from the street below— he can’t even make out words, but he knows. By the time he’s out the front door, looking around, wild-eyed, there is no Sherlock in sight.)

He listens, always.

He’s not good at deducing things like this, but when he sees Sherlock, he might notice something, a detail he wouldn’t have imagined. He looks tired, thin, sad. Not the way John usually remembers him. 

If John tries to remember him, it’s always with his coat swirling, his collar popped, his hair a bit windblown. It’s the Sherlock who gives him that smile, the one he reserves for John, who has no idea what it means. But he knows that it’s only for him. 

Let’s say that here and now, on the edge of this knife, about to change his whole life, giving it to a woman who has been good to him, saved him from drowning in grief— let’s say that when he sees Sherlock, he realises that he’s not certain. 

Maybe he doesn’t really love her. They could get married and he’d learn to love her. But she might grow tired of him, impatient if he keeps talking about Sherlock, or even silently missing him. He should be over that by now. 

Maybe she isn’t who she seems to be. He wonders what Sherlock would deduce if he got a look at her. 

He wonders if he wants to know.

Let’s say that Sherlock, when he sees John’s awful moustache, realises that it’s too late, that John has moved on. He’s had this thought before, if he’s honest with himself. He got careless in Serbia because he kept thinking two years, two years, too long... 

He’s looking at John and he’s suddenly ashamed. Never ashamed that he loves John, but ashamed that he never said, that it was always something he put off saying because he had calculated the possibility of John loving Sherlock at nil. Even if he once might have been open to that (unattached, like me…), how could John love Sherlock now, when he’s grieved for two years, believing a lie that Sherlock orchestrated? John is alive, and that’s all he wanted. What he wants now, he sees he can’t have, and he’s ashamed. 

His face flushing, he turns back the way he came in, pushes past several people waiting to be seated. He flees the look on John’s face. He’s mortified that he came here, thinking he’d make John laugh, see him smile, and sweep him away, back to Baker Street. 

He’s got on with his life.

Outside, he stands on the pavement, deleting the happy scene he’d imagined. 

Is that sentiment talking?

Everything will be different now from what he’s imagined. He might hail a taxi and go home— 

But it isn’t home now. It’s an empty house, without John. 

Imagine John now, seeing the hallucination turn away, exit the restaurant. He doesn’t think about Mary or the ring or what he’s going to say to her. He stands, stumbles away from the table, then runs towards the door. 

He sees him from the back— a tall man wearing a dark coat, the collar up, curly dark hair. His head is bowed, his shoulders slumped. 

It can’t be. 

But at this moment, before he takes another step into a new life, he’d rather make a fool of himself than dismiss the possibility that it could be him. 

One more miracle, for me.

If anyone could be that clever, fake his own death, and return—

Sherlock raises his head, gathering himself for what’s next. There is no solution. He can’t go back, so he must go forward. He’ll see John at some point, and he’ll apologise. If he’s lucky, John will accept his explanation. But they’re in different timelines now: John moving into the future, Sherlock stuck in the past. 

He raises his hand to hail a cab. 

Imagine: a hand on his back, tentative, trembling.“Sherlock?”

Imagine: the face he always looks for, the voice he still hears. “John?”

Let’s say it happens this way. 

John doesn’t hit Sherlock. He falls into the arms that are already open to receive him. He weeps. He curses. He laughs. And weeps some more. 

Sherlock doesn’t make fun of John’s moustache. He doesn’t make a joke about tuxedos, or say, short version, not dead. Instead, he reaches for John, saying, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… 

John forgets about Mary. He hugs Sherlock.

When Sherlock asks, “Your date?” John hits his forehead, pulls out his phone and sends a text. Something’s come up. I’m sorry. We’ll talk tomorrow.

John forgets about Mary, again. He looks up at Sherlock, who is smiling now, giving him that look, the one that’s only for him. 

Sherlock can’t let go. He’s not sure what comes next, but he’s less afraid now, and maybe he can finally say it. 

John remembers every time he went to Sherlock’s grave, never able to say it. 

“I love you.”

Let’s say it happens like that. 

#mayprompts2024

[rottingcorps3s]

older man!neighbor!price

aaaayyyoo??? my little thing i posted last night kinda popped off. here’s another one before i fall off again (10 whole reblogs?? you guys are so cute).

price is sliiiightly older in this. think like mid to late 40’s. older man, next door neighbor. i envision this in a timeline where he retired early. this is very house-wife, american pie dream kinda deal. what can i say (hawk screech). OBVIOUSLY, some puss eating. what’s the reverse of a munch? not the one who eats, but the one who is eaten? cause that’s me. there’s a decent amount of set up for this one, but its not too long.

-

neighbor!price is the kind of person you see that makes you pick up your phone and call your friends to tell them about the ‘hot ass dilf’ that you just saw leave the house next to yours. you had been in and out of the house all day, cleaning and moving in the smaller pieces of furniture into the previously vacant home.

the sun was just setting when you decided to stop, your clothes slightly damp from the thin coat of sweat that covered your body. you had taken the chance to finally sit down for the first time today, your body giving in as you plopped down onto the wooden steps that lead up to the porch.

you saw a car in the distance slowly approaching, it didn’t catch your attention again until it turned into the driveway adjacent to your home. a few seconds after it parked, an older man stepped out.

“well helllloooo neighbor…” you mumbled to yourself, smirking before deciding to stand up and greet him. just a new neighbor doing their neighborly duties of introducing themselves °_°

he hadn’t been paying attention until he saw your shadow being casted on the ground next to him. he turned his head to look at you.

his eyes locked with yours, boring into your skull the longer you looked at him. his face was covered in blonde and white hair, his beard kept fairly short. he was built too, his biceps practically being the size of your head, his t-shirt leaving little to the imagination.

it had felt like minutes since you approached him, staring into his eyes as he waited for you to say something.

“he-i just moved-next door-neighbor!!” you struggled to get out, your mouth suddenly becoming dry now that you are face-to-face. he gave you a tight lipped smile, nodding his head once before extending his hand out.

“john.” he said simply, “i live next door.” he smirked, his tone dry, but kinda humorous? or maybe he was just making fun of your struggle to introduce yourself. (YEEESSSSS MAKE FUN OF ME MAKE ME FEEL INFERIOR….srry, need to control myself).

you said your goodbyes and didn’t even get through the front door before you were calling your friend.

-

the next few days were exhausting. the movers had finally shown up and you were finally able to sleep in your bed once again. your home was still filled with boxes upon boxes upon boxes but you were determined to finally take a night to relax.

god must’ve had the devil on speed dial that night, because NOTHING went right. what was supposed to be a quiet night in bed with a glass of wine, quickly turned into a disaster when you went to take a shower. you had opted for a bath the last few nights, enjoying the warmth on your achy muscles from unpacking.

you pulled the tab that would usually start the shower head; you didn’t even have time to process what happened before you were drenched in water. you let out a panicked scream, trying to backtrack and shut off the water. the shower head had come clean off and was now spraying water over the entire room.

you were frozen in place, unsure of what to do or who even to call. your body was moving faster than your brain, you were already out the front door and knocking on your neighbors door in a frenzy.

he was old…er. he looked like a dad! he definitely would know what to do!

price was puzzled by the scene in front of him when he opened the door. you were soaked beyond belief, your hair sticking to your forehead, your eyes wide like you were a deer in headlights.

“can you please help me!” you begged, your voice so soft and sweet, your lips pouting out every so slightly. “my-my fucking shower exploded, or something!”

he agreed, following behind you with a small tool bag in his hand. you left a trail of water behind you, your bare feet hitting the concrete of the sidewalk as you walked quickly back to your home. john would never admit it, but he was staring. the shirt you wore was soaked and clung tightly to your body. outlining your figure.

john was able to rectify the situation rather quickly, even teaching you a few things about homeownership whilst he did. he was able to find the water shut off valve in your basement, stopping the water from spraying and almost flooding your bathroom. he also reattached the shower head, making sure it would actually stay out this time.

you thanked him profusely, over and over and over again all the way back to his front door where you followed him. you said your goodbyes, not without saying thank you one more time.

but it just wasn’t enough. that man, your neighbor, a stranger, john. was considerate enough to go out of his way to help you. you had to make it up to him! so you did…

by baking!! obviously!! :)

chocolate chip cookies, of course. everyone likes a good cookie!

once they were done and cooked you wrapped them up in plastic wrap, a small note attached to the top.

a thank you note.

you dropped them off on his doorstep the next morning, leaving them there for him to find.

-

the next few months were pretty consistent. thankfully, no more shower head explosions. you had a few problems here and there, but nothing you couldn’t fix!!…or that john could fix for you…

you paid him in baked goods and hot meals. even going out of your way to find out his favorites. he didn’t mind, he enjoyed it, maybe a little too much.

you had been out of town for a few days, taking an extra long weekend to go out and have fun. john agreed he would keep an eye on your house while you were gone. making sure nothing or nobody messed with it.

he would’ve done it even if you didn’t ask him

when you returned home you made it a priority to make dinner for both yourself and john that night. a quick and yummy thank you.

you packed the food in a small container, sticking a little note to the top just explaining what you made and what was in it. you might’ve drawn a little heart or two on it as well, but i’ll never tell.

you were in a pale yellow sun dress, the bottom of the dress juuuuusst barely covering the top half of your thighs. you knocked on john’s door, box of food in hand with a smile on your face. the door swung open, but it wasn’t john.

it was another man. a black man with sharp features and short hair. “is john home, by chance?” you asked.

the man in front of you smiled widely, a sort of mischievous smile. a ‘i know something you don’t knooooow’.

he wasn’t given a chance to respond before the man was pulled back by his shoulder and john appeared in front of him. john was quick to shut the door, gently coaxing you to walk half way down the path in front of his house, away from the door. he had a look on his face, he seemed annoyed, not at you, but at the situation.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know you had company.” you smiled apologetically, “i just wanted to say thank you.” you said, holding up the container of warm food.

john gave a tight lipped smile back, graciously accepting the food.

“don’t worry about it,” he mumbled, “thank you.”

you went on your merry way, scampering your way back up your steps and into your house. not without a quick wave before the door slammed shut.

john held his head in his hands, letting out a deep breath before turning to head back inside. he could see 3 separate breaks in the blinds from where 3 people were peeking through. the second he noticed it, they were gone. blinds completely back to normal.

he walked back inside, preparing for the comments that would be made by his guests.

“she’s prettier than you described, cap.” said a smug Gaz, Johnny nodding frantically in agreement.

“Might have to snatch her up myself, old man.” Johnny joked. his joke being met with a harsh slap to the back of his head from Ghost.

-

it had been a few days since you had seen john. you were used to having at least one daily encounter with him, but now he seemed like he was avoiding you. you didn’t stress about it too much, just assumed he was busy with…whatever he did in his free time.

you were half a bottle of wine down when you heard a knock on the door. you weren’t expecting any visitors so you had decided to drink a little more than you usually would.

you swung the door open, all precautions to the wind as you didn’t even check who it was.

it was john.

“oh-john,” you smiled sweetly, his name sounded like the texture of honey when you spoke it. he liked it. he liked it a lot.

“can i come in?” he asked bluntly. he didn’t really wait for you to answer, pushing his way in and standing next to you.

so close to you.

“is something wrong?” you asked, a worried expression on your face. your brows furrowed in slight frustration. concern.

he was quiet, his breathing shaky as he thought of what to say. he had no idea of how to beat around the bush, how to say what he wanted to say without it being too forward. but what’s wrong with a little honesty?

“i want you so badly.” he said in a quiet, deep voice. his eyes looking directly into yours, holding eye contact.

you weren’t sure if you heard him right at first, thinking that your mind was playing tricks on you. making you think he said something else but there’s no way he said that…right?

“r-right now?” you asked.

he was surprised by your question, not at all expecting that kind of response.

he nodded.

all it took was a small nod back at him before he jumped your bones. his hands were hot and heavy as they touched and saw new areas of skin. your shirt was bunched up by your collarbones before you knew it, his tongue quickly finding place on your nipples.

gaaaawwwddd, he’d play with them forever if he could. making sure to keep them taut and wet for the rest of eternity. leaving sloppy wet kisses and small bite marks behind.

you had made it to the couch at some point, time was a blur for the moment. your only focus on the way his hands ravished your body.

he would periodically make eye contact with you before doing certain things. making sure that it’s what you wanted and that you were enjoying it. he had started to shimmy your panties down before looking at you again even tho he did just moments ago. you nodded enthusiastically, desperately wanting him to touch you.

he knew once they were off that he wouldn’t be able to control himself. he was on his kees; he had set you on one of the arms on the couch, one leg hanging loosely over his shoulder already while he held the other one in place.

yes his knees were screaming at him for acting like he had the same body he did in his 20’s. no he didn’t really care how much it’ll hurt later.

the second your underwear was off your leg, he was going for it. he used his thumbs to spread you open slightly, admiring it before licking a looooooong, slow stripe up the middle, ending on your clit.

he’d be such a fucking tease. going all in and bringing you right to the top of your peak before pulling away or slowing down. you’d protest, desperation dripping from your words.

he’d get you to a point where all you could say was “please please please please”. he’d finally decide to cave, not stopping this time. it was almost too much for you to handle, your legs trembling and shaking.

he wouldn’t stop after either. you’d pull at his hair, letting out a cry as you tried to pry him off. but you were just sooooo weak from the last one :,( after the 4th or 5th, maybe 6th? you had lost count. he would finally let you go. making sure to give your pussy a small smack, enjoying the small squeal you let out a little too much.

and he’d make sure to fuck you silly too. turning you so that you would hang over the arm of the couch. he had to completely support you weight, which was fine with him. he’d ask for permission before even pulling his dick out; he’d use your own wetness as lube to stroke himself a few times before pushing in.

god he was sooo big, much bigger than any guy your own age.

he would 100000% talk you through your orgasms. you can’t remember a single thing he said, but you remember it being amazing.

once you were both done, he would take care of you. no doubt about it. he’d carry you to bed, bring you water, dress you in a new pair of pajamas and as long as you invited him, he would cuddle up next to you and hold you.

HUGE into pillow talk. would just talk about anything and would listen to whatever you said. nodding along with you.

the next time you cooked for him, it was extra delicious. and he’d be sure to tell you that when returning the container the next morning.

but not without updating you in his new favorite meal.

you.

-

SOMEBODY SEDATE ME. oh my fucking gaaaawwedddd

#call of duty #cod modern warfare #captain john price #modern warefare 2 #john price x reader #john price cod #john price #smut

[literary-motif]

EXTREME DONTIS FLUFFFFFFFF I BEG IM STARVED PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Check Mate

Dontis x Reader

“Check,” Dontis said, moving his black queen to take one of your rooks. 

You raised an eyebrow, looking at him in disbelief. 

The last thing you had expected when Dontis had invited you over to play a game was him presenting you with a chess board, picking up two pawns, and hiding them behind his back to determine which color you would be playing. 

Still, you could never refuse a relaxing game of chess. There was no clock to tick down, which allowed both of you to get lost in your head for as long as you needed to consider your next move. 

Dontis had just spent over ten minutes coming up with that one, offering up his queen to you on a silver platter. There she stood, lonely and isolated, entirely unprotected. 

You chuckled, moving your bishop to take his queen. “I suppose you got so lost in your head, you lost sight of the pieces as they are,” you said, amusement in your voice at his pout. 

“I suppose,” he said, taking a sip of his tea and sighing in annoyance at his stupid mistake. His entire strategy just went up in smoke. “I did not ask before,” Dontis said, looking up at you with warmth in his eyes and the slight upturn of his lips back in place, “would you like to eat something? A snack perhaps? I bought fruits.”

“Sure,” you said, nodding towards the chessboard, “but make your move first.”

He groaned, staring intently at the disarray his pieces were in. You were decidedly more organized, and your pieces were well-secured. There was also the glaringly obvious advantage of your queen standing discreetly behind a wall of pawns while his lay beaten by the side of the board. 

Clicking his tongue, he rested his head on his hands, thinking about different chains of events, trying to tip the odds back in his favor. 

“Sometimes the best answers are the ones right in front of us,” you said cryptically, giving him a smile.

Dontis gazed back with a frown. “I saw your little trap. I am not taking your knight, hunter.”

“Fine,” you muttered, taking a sip of your tea and turning your head to watch the trees gently sway in the wind. 

“I planted them myself,” he muttered, hesitating before touching one of his pawns.

 If he moved it there, what would you do? What game were you playing? He did not want to give you an opening, but he feared it would only be a matter of time until you tightened the knot around the king’s neck and pinned him in place.

You continued gazing at the sturdy trees outside. They were massive, bigger than Dontis’ house, and absolutely breathtaking, especially now during summer, when their leaves were freshly green and appeared to shine in the sunlight. 

“Sometimes I forget how old you are,” you said, watching Dontis move his rook. “Seriously?” You chuckled, stifling your laugh. “No need to get the fruit, I’ll beat you in two.”

“Two?” Dontis asked bewildered, searching the chessboard. “Impossible. You’re lying.”

“Come now,” you feigned hurt, “when have I ever lied to you? Watch” — you moved your rook, taking Dontis’ knight to do the obvious move and beat your now unprotected bishop, then took your queen out of her hiding place and moved her directly in front of his king — “Check Mate.”

He blinked, processing your moves before he sighed, accepting defeat and offering you his hand. “Well played, hunter,” he said.

“You were not so bad yourself,” you said, ducking your head at Dontis’ scoff. “With a bit of practice, I’m sure you can improve greatly.”

“Good thing I have you, then.”

#sakuverse #zsakuva #dontis zsakuva #dontis #dontis x reader

[starsreminisce]

SJM has a specific way of describing females when they meet their mate, often illustrated through the females staring at their mates unabashedly. This was particularly pronounced in the way she differentiated how Elain was when she first met Lucien and Azriel, and how Gwyn was the first time she met Azriel compared to the second time after her shellshock.

In regards to Elain, SJM made sure to show her fear towards the Illyrians, but with Lucien, she only cringed away once before allowing him to hold her while Nesta was under the cauldron and then staring at him when she was taken away from him.

In ACOMAF, Feyre's experience and Rhys's recounting of their initial meeting highlight this dynamic as well. Rhys described an underlying sense of fear and apprehension, yet there was an undeniable connection. This pattern suggests that SJM intentionally creates an initial sense of tension and unspoken attraction between mates.

Gwyn's encounters with Azriel, especially the second time after her shellshock, also emphasize this distinct dynamic. By having the females stare at their mates unabashedly, SJM underscores the unique connections and the deep, instinctual draw mates feel towards each other, showcasing this inexplicit yet powerful bond.

Feyre with Rhys

I stepped out of the shelter of my savior’s arm and turned to thank him. Standing before me was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Everything about the stranger radiated sensual grace and ease. High Fae, no doubt. His short black hair gleamed like a raven’s feathers, offsetting his pale skin and blue eyes so deep they were violet, even in the firelight. They twinkled with amusement as he beheld me. For a moment, we said nothing. Thank you didn’t seem to cover what he’d done for me, but something about the way he stood with absolute stillness, the night seeming to press in closer around him, made me hesitate to speak—made me want to run in the other direction.

Nesta with Cassian

Then, Mother above, Nesta shifted her attention to Cassian, noticing that gleam—what it meant. She snarled softly, “What are you looking at?” Cassian’s brows rose—little amusement to be found now. “Someone who let her youngest sister risk her life every day in the woods while she did nothing. Someone who let a fourteen-year old child go out into that forest, so close to the wall.” My face began heating, and I opened my mouth. To say what, I didn’t know. “Your sister died—died to save my people. She is willing to do so again to protect you from war. So don’t expect me to sit here with my mouth shut while you sneer at her for a choice she did not get to make—and insult my people in the process.” Nesta didn’t bat an eyelash as she studied the handsome features, the muscled torso. Then turned to me. Dismissing him entirely.

Gwyn with Azriel at Sangravah

“The first had just unbuckled his belt when Azriel arrived.” Silent, unending tears streamed down Gwyn’s face. “Azriel slaughtered all of them within moments. He didn’t hesitate. But I could barely move, and when I tried to get up … He gave me his cloak and wrapped me in it. Morrigan arrived a few minutes later, and then Rhysand appeared, and it became clear some of the soldiers had gotten away with the piece of the Cauldron, so Azriel headed after them. Mor healed me as best she could, then brought me to the library. I couldn’t … I couldn’t bear to be at the temple, with the others. To see Catrin’s grave and know I failed her, to see that kitchen every day for the rest of my life.

Gwyn with Azriel two years later

Gwyn had been distracted today—one eye on the other side of the ring. Cassian could only assume she was watching his brother, who had given Gwyn a small smile of greeting upon arrival. Gwyn hadn’t returned it. Cassian cursed himself for a fool. He should have asked her if she’d be comfortable with Azriel here. Perhaps he should have asked all the priestesses about including another male, but especially Gwyn—whom Azriel had found that day in Sangravah. She’d said nothing about it during the lesson. Only glanced every now and then toward Az, who remained dutifully focused on his charges. Cassian couldn’t read the expression on her face.

Elain with Lucien

There was a flare of light, and a scrape, and then Lucien was stalking toward Elain, freed of his restraints. Tamlin remained leashed on the ground, a gag of white, iridescent magic in his mouth now. But his eyes were on Lucien as— As Lucien took off his jacket, kneeling before Elain. She cringed away from the coat, from him—Cassian again stirred—trying to rise, to answer Nesta’s voice as she held my sister and cried her name again and again. .... Water poured forth, Lucien hoisting Elain in his arms and out of the way. The bonds on Tamlin vanished, along with the gag. He was instantly on his feet, snarling at the king. Even the fist on my mind lightened to a mere caress. As if he knew he’d won. ... Nesta slammed into Lucien, grabbing Elain from his arms, and screamed at him as he fell back, “Get off her!” Elain’s feet slipped against the floor, but Nesta gripped her upright, running her hands over Elain’s face, her shoulders, her hair— “Elain, Elain, Elain,” she sobbed. But Elain was staring over Nesta’s shoulder. At Lucien—whose face she had finally taken in. Dark brown eyes met one eye of russet and one of metal. Nesta was still weeping, still raging, still inspecting Elain— Lucien’s hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, “You’re my mate.”

Elain with Azriel

Nesta was waiting at the head of the table, a queen ready to hold court. Elain trembled in the upholstered, carved wood chair to her left. I did them all a favor and took the one to Nesta’s right. Cassian claimed the spot beside Elain, who clenched her fork as if she might wield it against him, and Rhys slid into the seat beside me, Azriel on his other side. A faint smile bloomed upon Azriel’s mouth as he noticed Elain’s fingers whiteknuckled on that fork, but he kept silent, focusing instead, as Cassian was subtly trying to do, on adjusting his wings around a human chair.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #antie/riel #antielriel #gwynriel #pro gwynriel #gwyn x azriel #acotar mating bonds #nessian #feysand

[booboothefoolishclown]

I just had to do a double-take after hearing my dad calling some lettuce "suspect"

#i literally like #had to stand there for a minute to process what he said #“that lettuce has been in the fridge a while now and its a bit suspect” #i dont know if i should be relieved that he didnt say sus or worried what the lettuce is a suspect of #tabs rambles

[trashbaget]

tell me your failed/embarrassing flirting stories to make me feel better, i’ll go first: today i said “get out of my way” forgot to say “i’m kidding” then immediately said “bye”

#it is awful having feelings for someone you know and have an established friendship with #but crushing on someone i barely know is knew to me and i legit feel like an idiot every time i do something stupid like this #i can’t just. talk to the guy #if i say hey and he says sup i say ‘sup indeed’ like what the fuck is that #i can barely even say hello to him #don’t get me wrong i’ve DONE it but most days i’m like #ah fuck there he is #okay you can do it just say hi #just say what’s up #and then he’s already gone #also. like. the setting we’re in is soooo not good for talking or flirting realt because um. it’s work he’s my coworker.. so um. do i fuckin #ask him for his number?? or to hang out??? but like. he’s kind of a stranger to me what do i want to hang out for 🧍 #but like. ​i dont want to do that until i have at least one successful interaction #or like. an actual conversation. #which is gonna be really hard to manage because he doesn’t talk much at all to anyone and i really only talk if someone talks to me first or #i’ll say something absolutely idiotic and ridiculous (and honestly i do that no matter what) #anyway so um. i guess i’m just gonna keep making a fool of myself until i get it right and hopefully i don’t screw it up 🥴 #i lost all my confidence in the last year and i cant do anything chill or smooth anymore (i was never that good in the first place but at #least i could PRETEND i knew what i was doing. like i could sell it. the whole weird and lost bit.) #anyway. i felt better for like 5 minutes when some guy at the gas station flirt failed with me on the way home. but that’s partly my fault #too oops. in his defense he probably could not see that i had headphones on bc upon mirror inspection they were well blended with my hair #but i was waiting to cross the street and this guy tried to like nod and smile and i did not know it was to me until i got to the other side #where the gas station was and and like. tried again and i awkward half smiled and saw his face get all mushy and confused like mine FELT 20 #mins before when i’d flopped so hard trying to flirt and by the time i’d processed WAIT i think he was FLIRTING WITH ME i was already gone 🤡 #but at least it ended better than the poor 14yo who very confidently asked for my number #who. i shit you not. SCREECHED for a solid 44.5 seconds and bolted the other direction when i said sorry im 21 #his friends were standing there like wtf too and one was like i am so sorry about him 🤦 #cheers to being fools universe

[lxnarphase]

BITCH, YOU KNOW I'M SEXY ᯓ★

━━ ❝ I'M NOT YOUR MOMMY, N★GGA! FIND A NEW HOBBY, N★GGA! ❞ wc. 5.4k

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : being toji's roommate, you finally snap after another night of not being able to sleep because of his damn late-night hookups. your house, your rules.

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...cw : blk!fem!reader x f. toji, frenemies to lovers, smut, face-sitting + pussy eating, dumbification, degradation, praise kink, dirty talk, playful arguing, hair pulling, size kink, begging, riding, unprotected sex (do not do this in real life omfg), dom-ish reader, sub-ish toji, lots of pet names, toji being an asshole, toji gets called a 'good boy' a few times

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...lunar's notes : toji toji toji, what am i going to do with you...anyways, this was super fun and i love these two so much and i need them to go out on a date properly at some point ! if you want to be tagged for the future posts, comment on the main post here ! enjoy baddies ❤︎

you love sleep. absolutely love and cherish it, even.

every night, you follow the routine you set for yourself without fail: hot shower, slipping into some comfy PJs, in-depth skincare, brushing your teeth, and then pulling your bonnet on.

nothing is better than slipping into bed, soft sheets feeling sooo good on your skin. yes, you absolutely love sleep.

except it seems that your roommate has no respect for your need for rest, considering how many times you've had to hear the high-pitched whining of women paired with the annoying thud of the headboard against the wall.

he better not damage the wall either, because he will be the one paying for it.

you both were...sort of friends, sure, but ever since you both graduated college, toji has been doing his best to get on your nerves. constantly picking on you, teasing you, or doing stupid shit that annoys the fuck out of you. especially whenever he leaves the fucking toilet seat up in the middle of the night.

and every time he hears you squeal late at night in the bathroom before shouting his name, he can't help but laugh.

eventually, it went from him just doing things to inconvenience or mess with you to this. and you were tired.

these nightly...activities of his need to be addressed because you are not letting a man of all things be the reason you can't sleep soundly at night. this is your apartment, after all!

it's a friday night and you just know you need to talk to him before you have to hear some woman fighting for her life of toji does...whatever he does that has all these women coming in and out of your apartment like it's a damn brothel...okay, well, it was the same two women, but still!

so that's how you find yourself, pounding on his door, sleepy, tired, and irritated in your hello kitty pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt, ready to get in bed and actually sleep.

"fushiguro, open this damn door," you command, fluffy slipper tapping on the floor as you wait for him to open his door. after a minute, you hear a groan and the shuffling of sheets before the door swings open.

toji stands in the doorway, only in a pair of sweatpants that hang low on his hips with an eyebrow raised as he looks down at you. you don't care how hot he looks, you want nothing more than to wipe that look off his face, hating how smug he looks.

"whaddya want? 's she here already? told 'er not to come for another 2 hours," he mumbles, scratching at the scar on his lip. you're silent for a moment, processing what he just said. "who......no. nononono. absolutely not, tell whoever you are expecting she is not coming into my apartment."

crossing your arms, you fix him with a tough look. sure, you know you aren't the scariest thing, especially in hello kitty pants and puffy slippers, but it doesn't matter! he is going to respect your wishes or...or else!

"aww, what's wrong, doll? can't sleep," he teases, voice low and sinfully smooth as smirk finds its way onto his face. "guess ya should've invested in those headphone y'keep talkin' about so much. can't help that 'm just that good that the girlies can't keep their mouths shut."

having you in front of his bedroom door like this...it's so fucking adorable to him, you were just so cute and didn't have a single clue, did you? complaining that he and his little playthings were too loud and keeping you up was not what he expected. but, toji won't lie, he's genuinely surprised it took you so long to finally say something.

it seems his little comment struck a cord, his smirk getting bigger when your eyes get just a bit wider in disbelief. man, you were so fucking cute like this, all angry and huffy.

"okay, first of all, those headphones are NOT comfy to sleep with at night. and i'm not dropping almost $400 dollars on something so that i can accommodate for you," you argue, stepping forward and jabbing your finger into his stupidly big chest.

no, seriously, why were his pecs almost bigger than your tits?

"can you please just let me sleep for one night, or are you that sex deprived you can't go a single night without getting your dick wet?"

whatever this new side of you was, he liked it.

"aww, sounds like little princess s' mad no one's fuckin' her right. ya not gettin' fucked good, pipsqueak? haven't seen yer boy-toy around lately anyways.

"god, that's—that's none of your fucking business, fushiguro, shut up!"

"make me."

you blink.

a moment passes...and suddenly, your eyes are sharp.

ah...he might've fucked up with those two simple words.

"...you know what? i will, you annoying fuck."

catching toji off guard, you shove him back, taking advantage of him stumbling to walk inside his room as you slam the door shut behind you. a light chuckle escapes him, eyebrows raises. "so, the little kitten does have claws," he says with a grin.

his little roommate seems to have grown a pair of balls. what is she gonna do? hit him with pillows, curse him out, kick him out? pffft, if you kicked him out he would know you needed sleep, you both have been friends for too long...right?

as toji gets slightly worried he might've genuinely crossed a line (a bit too late to realize that, he realizes), you push him onto his bed, standing between his legs.

oh.

oh, he...he likes you from his angle, looking down at him with a little bit of a pout on those pretty full lips of yours as you try soooo hard to look angry and scary. but how can he be scared when his roommate, the one he's been fucking his hand for, looks so fucking cute?

curly hair a bit frizzy and messy (he's surprised you don't have your bonnet on yet), smelling like cocoa butter and that strawberry shortcake body spray that haunts him at night. and now you're in his fucking room. he'd never be able to escape it now.

fuck, every time you came close to him, he just suddenly couldn't process anything except you...he needed to get a grip.

propping himself up on his elbows, toji locks eyes with you, playing off his surprise. "what's gotten into ya, roomie? so aggressive, might have t' call shiu to come get you," he attempts to playfully poke. the tension in the room grows when you start to massage your temples, trying to calm down.

in.

out.

in.

out.

in-

"well, if lack of sleep is gettin' you all huffed up like this, i gotta couple o' ways t' tire ya out if y'need."

"oh my god, y'talk too fucking much," you grumble.

toji opens his mouth, ready to make another smart comment but he's shocked into silence when you tug your pajama pants off. there's no fucking way this is real. toji knows he has to be dreaming and knowing he'd be waking up with a wet spot in his pants if he didn't wake up soon.

and...are you wearing hello kitty boxer briefs too? god, you're such a fucking dork, it's cute and it's only making him harder in his pants.

but all of that is forgotten when you hook your fingers in the waistband of those stupid looking boxers and drag them down those pretty legs and toji gets a glimpse of your cute, pudgy tummy and...and....

fuck.

he doesn't even get a chance to think, he's so fucking hard. you're fucking half naked in his room right now and he can't tear his eyes away from how soft you look, that little patch of hair (is it shaped like a fucking heart? jesus fucking christ, you were serious about making yourself feel pretty everywhere), god, he's so fucked.

"shit. someone's eager. just couldn' wait to-"

"i'm so sick of you," you cut off, pushing him down onto the bed, crawling up his chest. you give him a look, one that he instantly understands and he smirks, giving you a nod before you continue moving until your hips hover over his face.

the smirk melts off his face when he realizes how real this is. your bare pussy is literally mere inches away from his mouth, so close he can practically taste you.

he's not gonna make it out of this alive, is he?

when you see him about to open his mouth to make another stupid comment, you move, pressing your hips down onto his face, shutting him up. "you wanna use your mouth so much, toj? i'll give you somethin' to use it on."

toji's response is just a muffled groan, his eyes fluttering a little. his hands move up to grip your thighs to steady you and also keep you on his face. he hasn't even tasted you, but shit, you smell so good.

wasting no more time, his tongue hungrily darts out, desperate to taste you. the moment he licks over your folds, he's sighing, melting into the bed. you're so soft, so sweet and he hasn't even gotten a taste from the main source. pulling you down onto his face a bit harder, toji finally swipes through your cunt and he's addicted.

"mmh, fuck," he grunts, burying his face as deep as possible. what the actual fuck are you made of, he thinks to himself. you taste so sweet, he's getting so dizzy as he starts to messily lap up all the slick dripping from your pussy. he barely pulls away from you to breathe, taking just a second to part, his hot breath fanning against the wet mess between your legs before he dives right back in, his low groans resonating against your core so nicely.

toji slurps loudly at your cunt, unable to stop himself from rolling his hips up, the friction of his sweats on his cock a sweet relief. he's so sure this is heaven, thanking whatever god there is for making you snap to this point but then you start talking.

you sigh, hips gently rocking against toji's face as your eyes open to look down your body at him. "mmn, 's better," you purr to yourself, little sweet noises of pleasure escaping you as one of your hands runs through his hair, giving him an encouraging little tug.

"should i just give you my pussy every night so you let me sleep, toj," you coo at him, a smug smile on your face. he didn't even notice his eyes slipped shut, but he opens them, flickering up to meet your lidded gaze and see the pride swirling around your eyes.

has his roommate always been like this? toji doesn't remember you being so fucking sexy like this. sure, you've always been attractive, and he's definitely had a thing for you for a while. but never in his life did he think his sweetheart of a friend would be smushing his face into her soft cunt.

his response is a little nod and an increase in his tongue's movements against your sloppy pussy. his lips move to suck right at your puffy clit, and he swears nearly cums when you gasp his name and whine, pulling him even deeper by his hair.

his train of thought is completely destroyed, he can't think of anything but you, can't feel anything but you, can't see, can't smell, can't taste anything but you.

he'd kill a man if it meant being able to taste you like this every fucking day.

"ohh, tojibaby, y'look s' pretty eating my pussy...poor thing, jus' needed something to shut you up for a bit."

scratch that, he'd kill SEVERAL men if it meant hearing you sing praises like that while you grind against his mouth, practically suffocating him with your thighs.

it's addicting, the way slick is gushing out of you each time he kisses your clit before sucking on it, coating his mouth. toji knows he looks a wreck, but he doesn't care, not when he's got you on him like this.

"d'you wanna make me cum, toj?" you ask it so teasingly, tugging his hair again and making him moan. "you're makin' out with my pussy...such a good boy for me."

those two words are his undoing, a visible shift in his energy. his eyes are sharp, and he almost looks angry as he grips your thighs even harder. "yes, fuck, yeah, mama, i wanna make you cum all over my face," he growls, tongue unrelenting when it slips back inside of your cunt, a nasty wet noise filling the air as you keen. he's fucking you with his tongue so messily, like he'll die if he stops tasting you.

good boy. you called him a good boy.

the compliment made something snap in him, the need to devour you whole the only thing on his mind. he's not just a good boy, no, he's your good boy, and the thought of being yours makes a thick bead of precum to drip out of his cock and stain his sweatpants.

he's brought back when you tug his head back to look at you, that thick tongue of his slipping out of you.

"i don't want you bringing anymore fucking women in my house, fushiguro," you warn, glaring down at him. you're serious. if you see another girl come in here at 11pm, you might actually kill this man in his sleep and not in a way he'd like

"i'm so tired of hearing their annoying moans. if you need a pussy to put your stupid dick in, just ask me, you fuckin' idiot." shit, you usually never talk like this, but toji likes this side of you. the usually sweet and kind roommate he was so used to was no where to be seen, replaced with this commanding and no-nonsense woman who knew what she wanted.

he can't even deny, this side of you is such a massive turn on.

"promise you're gonna let me fuckin' sleep n' i'll cum on your pretty mouth, fushiguro. otherwise, i'm getting up and i'll call shiu and see if he wants a taste."

oh, fuck no. no way in hell is toji letting that smug bastard see you like this, best friend or not.

he desperately nods, just wanting you to let go of his hair so he can dive back into your sweet pussy, licking his lips to taste you again.

"promise, mama, no more bringing other women, jus' you, don't need nobody else but you, y'got my word."

"that's my good boy."

once you let go of his hair, toji dives right back to the task at hand like man possessed. his lips press against your clit, kissing it with little wet smacks before sucking it into his mouth. his tongue doesn't give you a break, flicking over it rapidly. your moans, god, your moans are getting so loud and so pretty, his eyes never leaving your face as he watches you get closer and closer.

"c'mon, doll, please," he begs, a whininess in his voice as he massages your thick thighs, encouraging you to ride his face until you cream all over it. "give it t' me, give me what i wan', cum all over my face, baby girl."

feeling how you start to move your hips, a sweet little 't-toji, 'm gonna cum' falling from your lips, his hands grasp your ass as he seals his mouth over your cunt, sucking and licking desperately.

he needs it.

he needs you.

needs you so fucking bad.

feeling him mutter those words against your cunt makes you gasp and choke out his name, thighs squeezing around his head. "oh, fuck, toji, 'm cummin, baby!" your hands are both in his hair as you desperately hump against his mouth, body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

he doesn't stop, he keeps his mouth on you to make sure not a drop of your sweet cum goes to waste. he can feel it spilling out of his mouth, down his chin and neck. it's so messy, just how he likes it.

he watches you, how could he even think to take his eyes off you? you're so pretty, do you even realize how your hair got puffier and messier from your sweating, how a few of those tiny curls got stuck to your skin?

"g-god, fuck, toj, hoohmygod, your mouth 's so good, nngh!"

shit, you're pretty, so fucking pretty, what the fuck? god, you even cum pretty, toji's so fucked. why didn't he get you on his face like this sooner?

feeling your tremors start to subside, toji slows his tongue, switching to little licks and then to soft kisses against your clit, keeping you grounded as you come down from your high. the fact he didn't paint the inside of his sweatpants white is a miracle, but he knows the front is wet and stained.

when he feels you relax, toji guides you off his face and down to sit on his chest. he can't help the twinkle in his eye, grinning at you proudly. the bottom half of his face is a mess, covered in his spit and your slick. you like this look on him.

"has anyone ever told you that you've got t'most addicting pussy ever?"

you huff a laugh, urging him to move up further on the bed until his back rests against the pillows. he was so annoying, and you hated how attractive it made him. “you’re too awake for my liking," you sarcastically huff, giving him a sweet little pout that makes him feel a bit more things than he probably should.

tugging his sweatpants down, you let out a little noise of surprise.

ah.

it all makes sense now. no wonder those girls sounded like they were dying.

"toji, what the actual hell is wrong with you?!"

"don't get mad at me, ma, i didn't magically make my dick this size! i just got lucky!"

"lucky?! girl, this is a curse, how the fuck did those girls fit this thing in them?!"

"they didn't."

that makes you pause. they couldn't get him all the way inside? glancing down at his cock, heavy in your hand, as he helps to get his pants completely off, you're not surprised. but you could take it, right?

...guess you need to find out.

shifting your hips, you move to swipe his cock through your slick pussy, a smug look on your face when he sharply inhales. "i'm gettin' my revenge, pretty boy, for all the sleep you made me lose. 's late, anyways, yeah? don't we need to sleep soon?"

the head of his cock catches onto your entrance, causing you both to sigh in pleasure. this would be a stretch, but you're determined by pure spite from toji and those women keeping you up at night.

while you're teasing him, toji is a breath away from losing his mind. the sight of you taking charge, hair completely fluffy now from the humidity in the room, has his cock pulsing in your soft hand. he's so sure that you're not gonna be able to take it all in. shit, he's wondering if he should stop you, tell you he's gotta prep you first or else it's gonna hurt, but you use your free hand to grab his face, making him look at you as an evil grin breaks out on your face.

"i'm gonna put you t' sleep with my pussy. uhm, something something, call that pussy nyquil," you giggle, slipping the tip of his cock inside of your wet, tight little cunt.

melting, that's the best way toji can describe the feeling of behind inside you, even if it's just the tip. "jesus," he hisses, his hands coming up to grip your hips. you're so hot inside, your tight walls are so snug around him. there's no way this tight cunt of yours is gonna be able to fit him in, there's not fucking way.

despite that, he finds himself guiding you down onto him, trying his hardest not to buck up into you. but the sensation of your soft, gummy walls squeezing him so perfectly is making it so challenging to stay still.

"fuck, mama...shit," he groans, watching as he is sucked into your warm pussy. once you get halfway, he expects you to stop, and that's usually where they all do. he was fine with that, more than fine, because he's never been inside someone so fucking tight.

but then, you raise your hips until just the tip is inside, and with a devious little giggle, you slam your hips down, gasping when you get him in all the way. damn, you realize it was a stupid idea, the stretch making you feel almost sick, but the reaction you get out of toji is worth it.

his head falls back against the headboard, and he whimpers, eyes rolling back into his skull, his lip pulled between his teeth as he tries to relearn how to think.

“i'm gonna make you cum and ‘m gonna fuck you stupid for not letting me sleep, fushiguro.” giving yourself a bit to get used to his size, you slowly started moving, seeing what angle worked best for you.

meg the stallion, i'm gonna make you proud of me, you think with a little smirk before you steady yourself with your hands on his chest and start to bounce your hips, your cute little threat only making his cock throb inside you.

"'m gonna make you regret bein' an asshole to your pretty roommate, pretty boy."

it doesn't take long for it to get messy, for it to get so fucking sloppy and noisy. each time you bring your hips down, the room is filled with a wet smack. you've really made a mess out of him, your sticky wet coating his fat cock and his lap, thick strands of it connecting you to him with each raise of your hips before you bring them right back down.

toji can't breathe, finally tilting his head back up as his eyes are glued to where his cock slips in and out of you. you're taking him, taking all of him into your sticky cunt and, shit, he thinks he might die like this.

"fuck, fuck, mama, c'mon, don' do this t' me, relax, please, fuckin' strangling my cock, oh my god—"

he's whining, it's so cute. who knew you could get toji fushiguro, mr. tough guy, to crumble under you like this so easily? it's so wet and gushy, the sound of your thick body smacking back down on his only making his insides twist in pleasure. he can feel how fucking wet you are, dripping down his cock, down his balls, it's so unfair.

"tojiii, talk t' me," you coo at him, your sweet voice bringing him back. "don't tell me my pussy's making you dumb already, jus' started."

you did, you're literally fucking him dumb, and he doesn't know what to do or what to say, but hearing you say his name like that in-between moans as you bounce your hips up and down his throbbing shaft has his babbling in an instant.

"god, this cunt 's perfect, baby, s' fucking perfect."

“yeah? y’like my pussy, toj? like my pretty cunt creaming on you?” you roll your hips, a pretty moan leaving you when his tip nudges against that soft spot perfectly. “f-fuck, you really are big...poor thing, no one could get it in all the way? am, mh, am i the first t’ take this fat cock t’ the hilt, tojibaby?”

you lean forward, hands moving from his chest to around his neck as you roll your hips, swiveling them in ways that have him gushing precum all over the insides of your cunt. the squelches your cunt makes with each roll is so fucking sinful and so nasty.

"y-yeah, mama, she feels s' good around me, all tight and warm, milking my cock like it's made just for you."

god, you smell so good...he can still smell your perfume and the sweet blueberry scent of your leave-in. you smell so sweet and taste so sweet too, he's so fucking lucky to have you fucking him like this. toji's hands move from your hips to your ass, helping you fuck yourself on his dick, groaning your name.

"god, you're the first to take it all, y'got me so fucking deep in that sloppy lil' cunt that y'can feel me in your stomach."

you giggle between moans, pressing your forehead against his. "y'so cute, toji, such a good boy f' me, yeah? feels so much better knowin' you can just tell me if you need me to put you to sleep, right?"

he groans, nodding as his eyes flutter closed again. "y-yeah, yes, baby, feels s' much better," he admits, breathless as he starts to get close. he can feel you getting tighter, getting wetter, and he'll be damned if he cums before you do.

"aww, listen t' you," you say with a little whine, your dominant mask starting to ebb away as you start to grow weaker and weaker. it's starting to feel good, really good, to the point where you can't think either, and you don't know how much more of this you can do. "m-my pretty boy, my good boy, f-fuckin' me s...s-so good..."

the moment he picks up the whininess in your voice, toji is alert, looking into your eyes to find that the pleasure is finally catching up to you, too. "yeah? yeah, mama? she's feelin' good? fuck, 'm gonna fuckin' fill you up, baby, gotta cream this pretty pussy so deep that she feels it f' days," he grunts, mouth open as he pants against your lips.

they look so pretty, he wonders if you taste like that lip balm you always carry, if your tongue is as sweet as you are, if your plump lips are as soft as they look. the thought of them pressing against his is what breaks him, and he's so embarrassed at the noise he makes before leaning back against the pillows and planting his feet into the mattress.

"i gotta fuck you, gotta fuck you good, 'm sorry, 'm so sorry, baby, promise i'll let you sleep, promise i'll be good for ya, okay? mm, fuck, c'mon, let toji make it better, gonna kiss your cunt with my cock and make it up t' ya."

toji fucks into your hole desperately, groaning at the loud wet plaps of his hips smacking against yours. your moans, god, your moans, they're so pretty, you're so pretty. he can see your tits bouncing against the fabric of the shirt you have on, and he curses, so fucking mad he didn't have you take it off. but he doesn't care, not right now, not when he sees how gorgeous you look.

he's so fucking prideful when he sees how poofed out your hair is, bouncing with each thrust up into you. "y're so fucking pretty, c'mere."

one of his hands grabs you by the back of the head and smushes his lips against yours, hungry as he licks over them before shoving his stupidly thick tongue inside your mouth. the kiss is just as messy as the rest of you, and the pitiful little moan you give has him reeling.

"i-i'm, 'm gonna cum, toj," you whisper against his mouth, nails biting into his shoulders as you do your best to match his pace. you're gonna cum, he's gonna make you cum, you're about to cum all over his fucking dick, jesus christ.

"fuck, you're so hot, so cute, mama, my pretty girl. need ya t' cum, dolly, can y'do that for me? please, baby, cum on me, make a mess s' i can fill you up an' apologize like i promised," he rambles before kissing you again, biting your lip before running his tongue over it.

it's so close, you can taste it. it's so unfair how big his cock is, how you can feel every vein and throb of it inside of you, how you can feel his hot precum smudging all over your velvety walls.

the realization that he's inside you raw has you moaning so sweetly, and your pussy is gripping him for dear life as you dig your nails into his shoulders even more, head falling forward. "t-toji, 'm, 'm gonna—f-fuck!"

you're cumming, you're cumming on him, and it feels so fucking good. you're creaming all over his lap, and your crying and moaning his name so sweetly he feels like he's gonna pass out. "baby, babyyy, no, lemme see, lemme see you cum," he begs, the hand in your hair tilting your head back up and the view he gets has his hips stuttering inside you.

your eyes are unfocused, long lashes wet from tears as you pant and whimper for him, all for him. and when you make eye contact with him, he feels your gummy walls squeeze him so tight.

"oh, fuck, yes, mama, jus' like that. keep cummin' on me, keep goin', 'm so close, gonna cum, gonna cum in this pretty pussy s' fuckin' deep you feel it in your tummy," toji babbles before he's losing himself too, pressing your head against his chest as he fucks into you, savoring your overstimulated cries for him. "'s gonna go deep, so fuckin' deep an' i'm gonna fuckin' eat it outta you, just like y-you fuckin' deserve��!"

with a pathetic sounding groan of your name, he's giving one, two, three, four hard, deep thrusts, moaning as he pumps his thick load into you, feeling your oversensitive pussy milking him dry. "g-good boy, g'fucking boy, tojiii," you whimper, moving from his chest to pepper kisses all over his face, moaning softly as you feel his hot cum coating your walls.

his mind is so blissfully blank that he doesn't even realize he's shaking a little bit from how hard he just came. cooing happily at him, you cup his cheeks, trying to bring him back down to you. "come back t' me tojiiii, don't die on me, roomie!"

still reeling from his insanely intense orgasm, manages a little chuckle, his hand moving from your ass to under your shirt, stroking your back. "'m here, 'm here, promise...i just...shit. ya fuckin' drained me, girly. what the hell are you?"

you laugh, kissing the corner of his mouth before nestling under his chin to catch your breath. "I'm your damn friend who happens to be the roommate you have been tormenting by not letting me sleep, dumbass."

"heh. fair point."

you both stay like this for a bit, just resting a little and trying to catch your breath. except...toji's eyes feel a little heavy, and he feels himself drifting away. "there you goooo," you coo, hand running through his hair. "told ya i'd put you to sleep."

"yeah, yeah, you were right," he grumbles and opens an eye, hand coming up to pinch your cheek. "jus' a lil' nap, okay? we still gotta get you cleaned up. after all, i promised i'd clean my cum outta ya, right?"

"my god, toji, you are nasty."

"but you like ittttt."

you couldn't stop yourself from laughing because, yes, you did. you liked it a lot.

soon, the room falls quiet as toji's breathing falls into rhythm with yours, the rise and fall of his chest steady and slow. his mind is still a bit dazed, and he can't help but get a little flustered as he realizes how badly he's wrapped around your little finger. the thought is only further confirmed when he feels his heart squeeze just a bit when he notices you fell asleep on his chest.

he wraps his arms around you in a gentle embrace, huffing to himself. yeah, so what he was whipped, he finally got you in his arms, so he sees it as a win.

as sleep finally starts to creep up on him, he presses a little kiss to your forehead, leaning back against the pillows and shutting his eyes. just a little nap, and then he'll get you cleaned up and make sure you accept his apology for everything he's put you through.

...he just hopes you won't be too grumpy when you realize you fell asleep without your bonnet on.

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ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...lunar's tags : @satoruwiki @llllllllllllloser @screampied @abcdbleh @vicfuentesfangirl @sakurapeach @ohsuguru @crywolfix @naughtygobbo @aura88967 @jeanine-gt @tananaxx @tojancy @happymangosstuff

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji x black reader #jjk x black reader #black fem reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji fushiguro x black reader #black reader #𖤐 ── lxnarworks. #🔪 ── toji.

[tinyluvs]

imagine dating spencer and you come to visit or something and make him so distracted that he literally can’t info dump on something and the rest of the team is just shocked

yes yes, a hundred times yes 🤭 thank you so much!

catching a glimpse of yourself in the elevator mirror was the last thing you needed right now. you were covered in paint, your dungarees showing up every coloured streak and hand print against the light denim. you're sure there's paint in your hair but you don't have time to dwell on it, you're late

you'd got stressed, painting your boyfriends apartment on your own, lost track of time and then didn't have the time to change before running out of the apartment, just about managing to remember to grab yours and spencer's lunch on the way

"i'm so sorry i'm late," you sigh and frown as you rush through the bullpen to the collection of desks you're oh so familiar with, "please excuse the state of me,"

spencer turns at the sound of your voice, "hi sweetheart," he hums, looking up at you just as you dip to kiss him quickly before pushing the bag of food onto his lap

"hey," you smile softly at your boyfriend before turning to his colleagues, "hey guys, how are we all?" you ask, getting a mixed bunch of replies back

"how's painting?" derek laughs, looking at your appearance and the state of your clothes

you slide onto spencer's desk, pulling your legs up to sit cross legged, "standing six feet up a ladder trying to hold a tray of paint and a brush is hard, i've nearly fallen off twice," you huff,

spencer hands you the sandwich he knows is yours and then seemingly looks at you properly for the first time since you've been there, "hey," he says, almost breathlessly

"hello?" you question, head tilting slightly, "you've already said hi," you say, looking at emily and jj who just snicker and shrug their shoulders but spencer doesn't reply, "oh before i forget!"

your boyfriend watches you carefully as you produce a piece of paper from the tiny pocket on the front of your dungarees, flapping it around to unfold it, your other hand busy clutching your food

"the living room is next, i need to know how much paint to buy," you explain, handing the paper to him, "the cans are one litre or five litres, i can't figure it out"

truth be told you hadn't bothered to try and work it out, knowing spencer would be able to reel off the answer like it's nothing, naturally, he knew the exact measurements of every wall in his house

the boy stares up at you blankly, big brown eyes soft and sparkly. your cheeks heat up under his gaze, your eyebrows raising slightly, "spence?" you nudge him with your knee

he jumps ever so slightly, his head shaking a bit, "hmm?" he asks before only just registering you've handed him something, his eyes scan over it, "oh!" he blushes, turning his chair to face his desk

"what colour are you doing the living room?" jj asks while she stabs at her salad like it's offending her. you'd consulted the girls with all of the decorating developments.

"a light brown i think, we have so much to hang on the walls," you pause to swallow, "so something neutral," you finish with a slight nod

a door opening to your side grabs your attention, aaron coming out of his office with his lunch. he comes down into the bullpen, sitting on the edge of emily's desk, "the paint fighting back?" he asks you, slight smile creeping over his face

you roll your eyes at him, playfully, while the other laugh at your expense, "very funny but i don't see any of you offering to help"

penelope scoffs, "actually, i did" and she was right, however her idea of getting wine drunk and decorating had been quickly shut down by spencer, the only input he's actually offered up in the whole process

giggling, you turn back to your boyfriend who's been far too quiet, "boy wonder?" you say gently, pushing your fingers through his hair, "got an answer for me?"

usually he would have an answer within seconds, his minutes of silence making you frown, he turns to you with the same frown painted across his face, "i don't know," he says

people around you gasp, loudly too, "what do you mean, you don't know?" emily almost chokes on her lunch, sitting forward to gawp at the boy

"i do not know how much paint we need" he confirms

derek scrambles, pulling his phone out of his pocket, "say it again, i need record of this moment" he pleads while garcia smacks him

"well there's a first," david says, wandering over after hearing spencer say i don't know for possibly the first time, ever

your boy stares at the paper in his hand and then up at you, confused, "i have to go and work it out, excuse me" he says, rushed, as he stands and takes off towards circle table room

after a moment of shocked silence you turn to the team who are all staring directly at you, "i'll go check on him, i wonder what's wrong?" you say to no one in particular as you hop off of the desk

"i think i know," jj sing songs and the others hum in agreement as you hop up the stairs and along the walkway into the room.

when you get into the room spencer is stood in front of the biggest whiteboard you've possibly ever seen, marker in hand though the board is still empty of his handwriting

"spence? angel?" you say quietly, staring at his back as he starts to write the measurements of the walls in his living room, "everything alright?"

he hums, not turning to look at you as he continues to work through the problem, "yeah, fine, just can't think properly when you're around," he admits, "not when you look like that," he turns slightly to look at you

"oh, do you want me to leave?" you're sad, its obvious in your voice. nervously you start fiddling with the sleeves of your sweatshirt

your boyfriend gasps, "no, no, honey that's not what i meant!" he says, holding his arm out. you slide into the space, head resting on his shoulder, "you're so beautiful and i love you so much, so so much, my brain just switches off when you’re around"

"really?" you giggle, looking up at him. he hums and nods his head, a light blush rushes up his neck before taking over his cheeks, "i love you too,"

he's taller than you, forcing you onto your tip toes to kiss him, not caring when someone, emily, whoops from the bullpen. gentle hands squeeze at your waist, while you hold his face with one hand, the other resting on his shoulder

"three litres," spencer mumbles against your mouth, you pull away with a sight hum, forgetting what you'd asked of him, "you need three but it's cheaper to just buy five and have left over, now come back" he huffs, his arm wrapping tighter around you to pull you back in for another kiss

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

#❥ my works #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!readr #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #❥ spencer reid #❥ spencer reid drabbles #❥ spencer reid fic rec #❥ my spencer works

[januaryembrs]

YOU WERE LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says- i’m a menace but i ADORED the spencer fic u posted 🥹 UGH THEYRE SO CUTE YOUR HONOURRRR 👹if it’s okay, may i request another fic with the same couple 🙈 perhaps one day reader is not as sweet or chirpy as she usually is, or she gets injured or threatened in the field? much love and lots of kisses xoxo 🫶

Description: Spencer swore he wanted to hate her. She was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. But how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?

Length: 5k (I'm feral for these two)

warnings: post prison reid. Angst. depiction of suicide from the Unsub. gory language used. guns mentioned. mention of $nuff video and other murders. Nothing that hasn't been done on CM already.

authors note: if y'all want to see more with these two just SAY because I am all ears I would die on this ship

There were a lot of times in his time at the BAU that Spencer had wished he could have changed the outcome of their bad guy, surprisingly enough. There was the time they found their UnSub a few minutes too late, and one of the victims fathers decided to take him out then and there with a shotgun to the head. He was just a kid. There was the entire time he was with Tobias Hankel, and he lived in a state of both fear and sympathy for the boy trapped in his own body after years of abuse. There was Nathan Harris, the kid who had stopped him at the subway station and practically begged him for help to stop his urges to murder, only to slit his own wrists before Spencer could get to him because he thought he was tainted. 

He could see how it was easy in their job to get wrapped up in saving the day, in saving everyone they could. He just had hoped, on some stupid grace of a god he didn’t even believe in, that she would have at least remained untouched by the bad luck. 

Spencer had always thought, since the first day he had arrived back into the office after his stint in prison, that she seemed to just waltz through life easier than anyone else. He knew the concept of luck was not quantifiable, that it was just a coincidence that good things happened to some people, and bad things happened to others. He always grouped himself in with the latter, because what was his entire life if not one bad hand of cards after another?

Part of him had been seething with vitriol jealousy when he first met her. He hated how the elevator doors seemed to open without hesitation for her, no waiting required. He hated how her hair never seemed to fall out of place, while his required primping and preening to upkeep. He hated how she was always so happy, whether it had been she’d been given an extra cookie at the bakery for free, or her coffee had just tasted super delicious that morning, or the road works clogging the city had been put on hold the one day she needed to drive into the office. She was one of those people, he had decided, that life just seemed to smile down upon, and she beamed back in that dazzling grin. 

He felt sick to his stomach for ever wishing it gone, especially when she looked like she might never smile again. 

They never liked to say that they had easy cases and hard ones, all of their cases were difficult to process. But this one had been a handful above the rest. 

“UnSub has been killed on site, all units stand down,” Luke said into the radio, and the entire squadron took a sigh of relief, all of them except him. 

Because he saw that look in her eye, the way everything sparkly about her seemed to have vanished.

They had been following Bobbie Wrids for a week. Five bodies in, five men shot between the eyes execution style, almost six by the time they’d arrived on the scene. 

She’d gone with Tara around the front of the abandoned building; Penelope tracked their newest victim, Henry Frond, through his phone pinging off the nearest satellite towers, and it had been straight forward from there. Or at least it should have been. 

Because by the time Spencer and Luke arrived in their own SUV, Penelope had time to access the rest of Henry’s phone, and it was clear to see the victimology behind all six men. 

They were distributing snuff videos of women, some between themselves, some to other usernames on the darkweb, and Bobbie Wrids’ daughter had been one of them.

Bobbie had become somewhat of a vigilante, but he was a grieving father above all. He was a wounded animal chomping at the bit to soothe the ripping pain of his daughter's murder, the same one those men were getting off to. 

Tara and her exchanged a glance as Penelope relayed the information over their headsets, her once serious expression falling into something sombre and sorrowful. How could she arrest a man she couldn’t help but feel sorry for, one she couldn’t help but think wasn’t entirely wrong in his actions. 

“Bobbie Wrids,” Tara’s voice was stern, cutting through the silence of the desolate building. Their footsteps were careful as they made their way through the hallway, down to what had once been a rec-room, or perhaps a staff room, where they knew Bobbie had Henry, “This is the FBI, we’d like to talk,” 

They heard nothing, and she looked up to the older woman hesitantly, her finger hovering over the trigger the way Spencer had taught her. Tara took a minute, knowing she was leading the charge here with the girl being so inexperienced, before she nodded to the door knob and the rookie twisted the handle, pushing the peeling wood open gently. 

Bobbie Wrids stood in the centre of the room, moth eaten couches either side of the damp rug, the ceiling tiles half caved in from wear and tear. Henry Frond was already a pulp in the UnSub’s arms, and yet it was Bobbie that her eyes shot to first, sympathy shooting through every fibre of her being when she saw the distraught look on the father’s face. 

He was grieving. He was grieving his little girl’s death. He was looking for a solution, and this seemed to be his best bet. 

“Bobbie,” Her voice was shaky, her and Tara frozen in the doorway as the man brought the pistol to Henry’s beaten face, cocking it towards his temple before they could even explain themselves. “We’re going to come in, is that okay? We just want to talk, just let us talk-”

They had only edged closer by three paces between them as she was speaking before his knuckles turned white and he squeezed the gun tighter to Henry’s skin, the barrel contorting the flesh, “Don’t come any closer, this pig isn’t worth your mercy,”

“We know,” She said, her and Tara slowly stepping over a fallen ceiling tile, cracking under her boot as she met his desolate gaze for the first time, his head snapping to her. “We know what he did, Bobbie. What they all did.”

His throat bobbed, his bottom lip quivering and the sight of it, a man so broken, forced a frog into her oesophagus, and she willed herself not to cry. 

“They hurt my little girl,” Bobbie choked out, his face turning mauve as the tears began to build behind his eyes, “She was my girl. She was only eighteen.” 

She nodded, his wetted hues seemingly permissive when she stepped closer to where he held Henry hostage. 

“I know, I’m so sorry for what happened to her,” She said, her voice croaky, unstable as she wrenched it into something audible, “I’m so sorry,” 

“He doesn’t deserve mercy, none of them did,” Bobbie spat, his forearm crushing against Henry’s trachea in a vice-like grip. The man floundered, a wheeze coming from his lungs, not that she felt much sympathy for him. 

She sprung into action, flicking her gun onto safety and holstering it, Tara doing the same as she lowered her weapon to her side. He profiled as a vigilante; he had no reason to hurt them. 

“Bobbie, listen, I know they didn’t deserve to walk free, okay?” She said, taking the smallest step towards where the men stood, “But she wouldn’t want this for you, would she?”

The man flinched, his jaw hard as a rock with how he clenched his teeth together, as if holding back a sob. 

“Come on, Bobbie. Let him go, we have enough evidence to get him sentenced. We can get you a plea deal, I know a good lawyer,” She begged, because she wasn’t beneath it, because she knew he was a good man backed into a corner, “Please,”

Maybe it was the way her eyes were soft when she looked at him, or the fact two more agents burst into the room from the hallway, Spencer’s eye immediately falling to where she was stood so close to their UnSub, her gun out of hand. Tara stood by, but that wasn’t good enough for him. He edged with light footsteps until he was behind her, his gaze cautious, never leaving the gun in Bobbie’s hand. 

“Please,” She repeated, and Spencer saw Bobbie’s shoulders drop, every sliver of resolve draining from his body at her gentle tone, a deer approaching a hunter. 

Henry was thrown to the floor, the man practically dead weight as he gasped, almost retching at the feeling of air sucking back into his chest frantically, and Luke and Tara were quick to wrestle him into cuffs, the woman reading him his Miranda rights. 

Spencer almost made a grab for her then, because she was still creeping forward towards the man who had a loaded gun still live in his hand. He didn’t care for one second that the statistics said Bobbie wouldn’t lay a hand on her since she wasn’t part of his list. He didn’t care that every sign pointed to their UnSub being benevolent towards women, especially younger ones, that she fit his daughter’s description. Spencer didn’t care, he wanted her as far away from that gun as possible. 

His heart lurched into his throat when Bobbie did in fact make a lunge for her, just not the way he’d feared. Because she had grabbed him. She’d pulled him into an embrace, a hug, kind and sweet as she always was. 

Spencer cursed her for being so soft. It was going to get her killed. 

“Agent,” His voice was terse, worried if you dug a little deeper than the sharp surface, but she didn’t listen to him. She held Bobbie tight as the man unravelled on her shoulder, falling into heart breaking sobs and it was then Spencer realised she was crying with him. 

“It’s going to be okay, you’re okay,” She was shushing him, the killer, reassuring him he was safe, as if the killing thing wasn’t still between his fingers that clutched at her back with rough hands. 

“They killed my girl, they took her from me, and then they laughed about it,” He wailed, and she nodded, squeezing him even tighter if that was so possible, “No one would listen, the police didn’t listen, I had to do something,”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be sympathising with the criminals. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help the gasping urge to comfort the man who had lost his whole world, “I’m listening. Tell me about her,” 

“She was so beautiful,” Bobbie whimpered, sniffling into her shoulder. Spencer felt his chest twinge at the scene. He hated that she was so soft. “She never hurt a soul,”

She cried with him, though hers were choked down as much as she could get them, her wet cheeks the only proof she had ever let them slip. 

“I’m sorry,” She said again, because no matter how many times she repeated those two little words, it would never bring his daughter back, “I can help you,”

He pulled away from her shoulder, and it was only then that Bobbie Wrids even noticed Spencer, his face taut in anxiety as he watched the man’s hands still holding onto her body as if she was the only thing that kept him upright, which Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if it were true. 

He fished the cuffs out of his back pocket, his finger never leaving the trigger as he stared down at their UnSub cautiously. He knew he may be being cruel, knew that ten years ago he would be just as caring as her. But that Spencer was long gone. And what remained was screaming in terror that she was in the line of danger, that she was holding the danger in her bare hands like she didn’t see the jeopardy she was putting herself in. 

Bobbie pulled away to look at her, the creases around his eyes deep chasms, and even with the smattering of grey hair, the stubble, the cold, empty look of someone with nothing left, she thought he might have been a handsome man once. He looked at her with a ghost of a smile, and one of his callused hands came up to tuck her hair behind her ear as if it had been second nature to him for eighteen years. 

“You’re a sweet girl,” He murmured, and she blinked at him, her chest easing at the way his wails had subsided into something quiet. She could help him, she swore she would help him. He was a good man beneath it all. “But no one can help me anymore, sweet girl,”

And with that he lifted the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.

—

She heard someone scream before she realised it was coming from her own throat, but her ears were ringing and she couldn’t open her eyes. Her face was wet and hot, and for a second she thought it was tears, but she was beyond crying now. She felt arms pulling her back into a strong chest, and someone was murmuring to her, or perhaps they were speaking normally and the sound of the gunshot had knocked her hearing. Either way, it was like someone had pulled a bag over her head as she brought her shaking hands up to her eyes to wipe. 

She managed to crack her lids then when the sludge was gone, only to see the room still a blurry mess. She could make out, in the haze of blobs and crimson tint, Bobbie’s body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle seeping into the rug as those long arms tugged her out of the room. She only then looked down to her hands where she had rubbed her face and she caught the same claret plasma coating her fingers, her white shirt, her pants, her arms. It covered her head to toe. 

It was in her eyes, she realised when she saw the ichor coating her fingertips. It was blocking her vision, turning the world a vivid wine colour, and she thinks she whimpered, or perhaps it was a moan of horror seeing the puddle beneath Bobbie’s body growing larger by the second. 

“I don’t understand,” She said out loud, her head spinning, and she brought her fingertips up to her eyes again, maybe to get the blood out, god there was so much blood on her face, or maybe because she hoped to everything out there that she would clear her sight and find it all a terrible hallucination, the product of one too many nights of sleepless tossing. 

But when she rubbed her lids again, this time seeing the scene a little better, Bobbie was still dead. She had still been too late. 

“You’re in shock, you need to breathe,” A voice instructed her over her shoulder, and it was from the same person who had their hands around her waist, pulling her away from the crime scene, as CSI filed in from behind them. 

She tried pushing the arms off her, weak because she couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t the horror in her stomach, and it took her a second before she listened to their words and realised she was holding a breath in her chest, the way a toddler does when they’re overwhelmed. 

“I don’t-” She gasped, the air rushing through her lungs, so fast it made her cough, “I don’t understand, I was going to help him- I don’t understand- why?”

“I know, just breathe for me, sweetheart,” Spencer. She only just realised it was Spencer speaking, because he had never called her that and the gentle tone he’d taken was nothing like his usual, civil cadence. He had been dropping a few jokes the past few weeks since she’d driven him home, had been more touchy feely with correcting her form when she was at the shooting range, had delicately touched the small of her back when they were navigating a crowd together. He was slowly cracking from his statuesque expression that hadn’t left his face since he’d gotten out of prison, but the softness with which he held her waist was entirely new. 

“Spencer, I don’t- I don’t get it,” She said, her voice bubbling into a sob as she allowed herself to be pulled away with no fight left in her. He took her into the hallway, turning her body from the sight of his hand lifeless on the floor with little to no effort. She was damn near limp in his arms, “Spencer, I don’t under-understand, I was going to h-help him, why would h-he do that-”

“Shhh, you need to breathe,” He murmured into her hair, trying to lead her out the front of the building and far away from where she’d just been front row seats to a messy suicide, “Come on, just breathe for me, baby, and then we can talk,”

But she wasn’t listening, and he wasn’t offended. Spencer knew it was the shock. He knew the symptoms by how her respiratory system had picked up in a matter of seconds and it was like she had gone from zero to a hundred. She let out a long whine, tears collecting the blood on her lash line and her chest seized into action, gulping down air, too short to do anything for her lungs, and her legs began to buckle beneath the two of them. 

Spencer stopped in the hallway, realising she was in more shock than he must have thought. He knew she was sensitive, hell it was one of his favourite things about her. He knew she felt everything so deeply, burned too easily, like a daisy wilting in a dry heat, or candyfloss melting in his mouth. Spencer knew, as awful as watching death up close was for any agent, it would hit her hardest of all of them. 

He moved around to her front, his hands migrating from her waist up to her shoulders, brushing over her upper arms soothingly. But her body felt numb, her head felt heavy, and her eyes were glazed over, down a rabbit hole entirely away from him, even when one of his hands cupped her wetted cheek gently. 

“Just breathe, hey, look at me,” He tried a firmer tone, and she bent to his will too easily. It was a punch in the gut seeing everything shining and pretty leached out of her eyes, as if she had become soulless in a matter of minutes, as if she had lost all hope in the world the second Bobbie pulled that trigger. She looked like hell, blood still fresh on her cheeks, in her hair, smeared around her eye sockets where she had scrubbed so hard to get it off her skin, “You need to calm down, you’re going to faint if you don’t breathe,”

She nodded, or something close to it, her eyes falling down to the floor, and she seemed to wrestle for control over her chest then. But what came after was worse, Spencer thought. Her brows screwed together, her eyes welling up with more of those fat tears, and her lips dropping into a devastated pout, her eyes trailing over the mess on her uniform, on her hands. 

“Spencer, I don’t understand, I tried to help him, I wanted to help him,” She sobbed, sniffling to herself miserably, and he barely even thought about it when he pulled her into his chest, not caring that her skin would dirty his shirt. 

His hand wound into her hair, stroking her sweetly as she buried her wails into his vest. He used his other arm to pull her close to him, which she seemed to have zero qualms about as she clawed at his back to keep him close, as if she didn’t want to face what was going to happen when they left that building. 

Spencer regretted ever thinking her sunshine was too bright for him. 

–

She hadn’t smiled in a whole week. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had given Penny a very forced smile when she had fussed over the younger woman the first day she got back, had said thankyou with downcast eyes and a fragile grin when the blonde presented her with a framed picture of a puppy to keep on her desk ‘incase she needed something nice to think about,’

She hadn’t looked at it once, because they both knew it wouldn’t do anything, no matter how much she pretended for Penelope’s sake that she would put it to good use. 

He had taken her out for coffee on him that first day, but by the time they had got to the front of the queue, he had been doing almost all of the talking, which had become rare nowadays since he had come home from Mexico. Usually, it had been her filling the silences, because he knew in her right mind she hated the sound of static nothingness, she found it awkward and unnecessary when she could talk to anyone without thinking about it too hard. 

They had got to the desk, the barista smiling up at him as he ordered his usual, before he turned to look at her as the woman serving asked her what she would like. But she wasn’t listening, she was watching out the window, nothing particularly invigorating beside a bird cleaning its feathers on top of a stop sign. 

He said her name, putting his hand on her back and her head whipped around, her eyes empty as they looked up at him expectantly, “What do you want to drink?” 

She blinked, waking herself from a stupor, and looked at the barista with an embarrassed expression, “Hot chocolate, please,” 

And that was all she really had to say until lunch rolled around, and she excused herself to head home early. Emily smiled at her reassuringly, her eyes wary as she watched their happy-go-lucky rookie head for the elevators with a desolate look in her eyes. 

Spencer hoped she would come around on her own, or maybe even be brave enough to talk to someone about the thoughts rattling around that head of hers, but she just didn’t. She stayed as silent as possible, only ever speaking when spoken to, asking Emily if she could finish off her reports at home, to which the Prentiss woman never protested. 

But Spencer had had enough. He’d worried himself sick over her, and where all thoughts of how endearing and lovely and charming she was had sat in his head before, now it was all just ways he could think to make her smile again. 

It was the following Tuesday by the time he braved action. She had gone home after their midday briefing, apologising to Emily with tired eyes that seemed to be growing more and more heavy by the day, like she hadn’t slept a wink in a fortnight. Which Spencer thought was entirely possible. 

He pulled up to the house Penelope had not so discreetly told him was hers, definitely not because he’d asked, and definitely, definitely not breaching any human resource policies about distributing fellow workers information (meaning Spencer had almost certainly not begged Penelope for the address with those puppy eyes of his he knew could bag him anything). 

The peonies in the window bays were wilting but her house was something out of a fairytale. He wasn’t sure why he was really so surprised. It screamed her, everything about it, from the toadstool post box to the little green, cast iron bench that sat in the garden, the metal forged to look like florets of ivy holding the sitter upright. 

He rapped the brass knocker, the metal cold under his long fingers. Brushing invisible dirt off his shirt, he hoped she would answer as the present squirmed at his feet. 

“Just a second,” He hushed, and as if she heard him, the front door swung open to reveal her bare face he hadn’t seen since he’d helped her wipe the blood from her skin in the back of the ambulance. 

She looked at him with furrowed brows, before they quickly shot to the floor, to her cobbled pathway that had clicked under his shoes, and her face washed with a shock. 

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She crouched to her knees, a slobbery lick immediately meeting her cheek as the Spaniel rubbed his wet nose up to her ear, sniffing her unique smell, as if it was a bag of Class A’s, “I never knew you had a dog,” 

“I don’t,” He replied, kneeling with her to ruffle the soft fur behind the canine’s ear, “This is Ace. He retired from the Bomb Unit a month ago and Penelope sent me his handler’s number. They said he’s the happiest dog in the world,” 

 “I would be too if I stopped so many people from blowing up,” She said, but before he could ask what she meant exactly by that, Ace had jumped up and attacked her entire face with kisses as if he too thought that statement was worth silencing. 

And she laughed. She laughed louder than she had in days, weeks, her eyes crinkling in joy as the little pink tongue stole away her sorrow, tickled away the traces of the blood that had tainted her skin. 

Spencer smiled, his eyes watching her face scrunch in a squeal, hands eventually coming up to the elderly dog’s jowls to gently push him down. 

“Oh, you are the sweetest guy,” She said, and the words had him tugging at the leash to lick her all over again, “Yes you are, you’re the sweetest little guy around, huh?” 

She chuckled, scratching down the mutt’s neck, and her eyes flicked back up to Spencer, who watched her with more intent than she’d realised. 

“Petting and receiving affection from pets causes spikes in serotonin in our brain and reduces anxiety, did you know that?” Spencer said, Ace pushing his muzzle into the palm of her hand to prove a point. 

Her smile wavered slightly, and she looked at his hazel hues that seemed to see right through her, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so off lately, I just can’t sleep at the moment-”

 “Don’t apologise,” He cut in, though his tone was kind, and the two of them stood back up to their full height, “What happened was horrifying, even some of the longest serving agents I know would struggle seeing that,” 

She scoffed, unusually pessimistic coming out of her mouth, “You wouldn’t,”

His head tilted, not quite understanding what she meant, because she hadn’t sounded cruel when she said it. Then again, he didn’t think she was actually capable of that emotion. 

She looked at him, a flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, something like that day he’d held her in the hallway; too fast he almost missed it.

“You’re so brave, Spencer, you’re like invincible. I mean, you survived prison and your mom getting kidnapped and you bounced straight back to work like it was nothing. I can’t even watch a murderer die without spiralling out of control,” She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and before he could respond on just how wrong she was, before he could tell her that that was exactly the opposite of what had happened because he had damn near changed every inch of himself in prison to stop himself from breaking, he caught her murmuring and he thought he might just have been punched all over again, “I wish I was like you,”

His jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stepped towards her, and her head shot to him, worried she may have said the wrong thing by mentioning everything that had happened, everything Pen had specifically said was a touchy subject, and she opened her mouth to apologise. 

“Do you know how unbelievably glad I am that you are nothing like me?” Spencer said, his voice bordering on furious and her fumbled for a reply, worried she had truly pissed him off. 

She wouldn’t blame him for hating her. She’d always worried, until perhaps that day they’d gotten into her car and she’d driven him home, that her very essence annoyed him. 

“I’m sorry-” She started, but he shook his head.

“Stop apologising,” He said, his hand reaching up to grab where her fingers tugged together nervously, his hold featherlike, his face softening when he saw her expression, “I don’t want you to be anything like me. I like you just how you are,” 

She sighed, eyes doe like with emotion as she looked at him, “Really?”

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile as she seemed to glow under his words, “Yes, really.” Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the way that the twinkle returned to her expression when he smiled at her with something almost like the old Spencer in him, before he cleared his throat, “We all like you. Everyone on the team likes how you are,”

She paused, nodding to herself as if knocking herself out of a silly daze, and Ace bounced on his hind legs trying to get her attention again. 

“You don’t think I’m too sensitive?” She asked, holding her palm out for the dog to nuzzle at with that wet nose of his. 

Spencer shook his head, “Sensitive is good. It means you feel something. Means you feel the good things deeper too,” 

Her smile was blinding, because she’d never thought of it that way before, and she looked like her old self again. Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to think she was never going to think about Bobbie again, he still thought about that first UnSub he’d tried to save. He still thought about Tobias Hankel. He thought about them all. 

But he was going to make sure she never turned into him. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if she did. He’d protect her sunlight even if it burned him to know he could never have her the way he wanted. Because she was everything good, and he was him. 

She looked down at Ace, the life returning to her as she stood aside for the two of them to enter her house, “Tea?”

Yep. Spencer felt something run hot knowing she would always be out of reach. Didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though. 

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #Post Prison!Spencer Reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #matthew grey gubler x reader

[waitimcomingtoo]

The Script

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Synopsis: you and Peter break up once you find out his secret and he falls apart

Masterlist

“We broke up.”

The words fell out of Peter’s mouth as he pulled his mask from his tear stained face. Ned turned around in his desk chair and pulled his earbuds out of his ears.

“What? No way.” He laughed dismissively at the assumed joke until he noticed the red rim around Peter’s eyes.

“It’s true. She broke up with me. She doesn’t want to be with me anymore.” Peter repeated through a childlike cry.

“But I thought you had a date tonight? Did something happen?”

10 minutes earlier

“Peter?”

Peter froze in the alleyway and stopped looking for his backpack. He turned around slowly and saw you standing there under a harsh street light with his backpack in your arms. The webs he had shot on it to keep it secured against the wall were still hanging off.

“It’s you? You’re the Spiderman?” You asked in a voice barely above a whisper. You were looking at him with a mixture of betrayal and confusion as you clutched his backpack like you were a child with a teddy bear. Peter still had his mask on so he stayed dead silent.

“Say something.” You seethed, a newfound anger in your voice and eyes. Peter gulped and nodded his head, knowing there was no point in lying.

“I am.” He said, making your face crumble when you heard his voice. You held the backpack tighter and stared at him as your face crumbled.

“What are you doing out here? Did you follow me?” Peter asked you.

“No. You never showed up to our date. I called you when I was walking home. Alone. I heard your phone ringing in this alley way. It was in your backpack. Here’s your stupid fucking backpack.” You said through clenched teeth and threw the backpack at him. He caught it with ease and dropped it to the floor.

“There have been Spiderman sightings on Youtube for years. Years. You never told me?” You asked and surveyed every inch of his suit as you saw it up close for the first time.

“Nobody knows.” He said quickly. “I mean, May knows. And Ned. And a handful of people I work with. But that’s it, I swear. I don’t expect you to understand this all right now but please believe that I have to keep my identity a secret for my safety. And your safety too.”

“You don’t expect me to understand?” You laughed and tilted your head to the side as if to ask if he was serious.

“I just mean that I know this is a lot to process right now.”

“It’s not a lot. You’re the Spiderman and you never thought that was something I should know. I had to find out on accident after getting stood up for the hundredth time. But, sure, I’m glad Ned knows.” You nodded and looked up so your tears wouldn’t fall.

“I would’ve have told you eventually. I just needed more time. If people knew who I was, everything would change. I wouldn’t be able to help people there way I do now. I couldn’t tell anyone.”

“Since when am I just “people”and “anyone” to you?” You shook your head. “How could you keep this from me for this long? We’ve been dating for over a year. And I’ve known you since middle school. How much time did you need?“

“I don’t know. It just never felt like the right moment to say it. I wanted to tell you so many times.”

“You just never did.” You shrugged. Peter recognized that the situation was quickly escalating and you were not reacting the way he always imagined you would.

“I don’t understand why you’re getting upset right now.” Peter said calmly. “I thought you’d be happy to understand why I have to miss so many dates and flake all the time.”

“You thought I’d be happy to learn that you’ve been lying to me for our entire relationship?” You laughed again as tears fell down your face.

“I wasn’t lying.” He defended. “I just couldn’t tell you the truth yet.”

“Yet. Right.” You smiled tightly. “We’re over a year in but haven’t gotten to the point where you can be honest with me. I see.”

“I am honest with you. This is the only thing I’ve ever lied to you about. I promise.” He said and tried to step closer to you. You immediately stepped back and hugged yourself.

“I thought you loved me.” You said as you stared at the ground.

“I do love you. How can you even question that?” He laughed in shock. You looked up at him and he saw that your anger had turned to sadness.

“Peter, you stood me up countless times. Tonight included. You let me cry myself to sleep for so many nights. All those times I walked home alone after already getting to the restaurant or watched movie by myself through tears because you couldn’t bother to show up. You knew I was feeling insecure lately about the distance between us but you still decided to say nothing to cue me in as to why it was happening. Do you know how painful it is to feel someone you love pulling away and have them tell you your suspicions are all unfounded? How long would you have let me feel that way if I hadn’t caught you tonight?”

“I…I don’t know. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how this was affecting you.” Peter said quietly.

“Of course you didn’t.”

“Look, I know this is really upsetting now, but I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” Peter said and put his hands on his shoulders. You pushed him off of you and took a step back. Peter gulped and wondered how he was going to make it out of this conversation alive because he had never seen you reject him like this.

“You always say that. And you never do. I have a long list of things I’m still waiting for you to make up for. Why should I believe this time is different?” You asked him and folded your arms.

“It will be different. I promise. I’ll fix this. Stop walking away from me.” Peter pleaded and reached out to touch your face.

“It’ll be different. You promise. You say the same thing every time. And yet, I always end up crying over you. I shouldn’t have to cry over a relationship I’m still in.” You said as you pushed his hand away from you. An anxiety built in Peter’s stomach as he was used to you telling him it was fine every time he had disappointed you in the past. This time was clearly different and he didn’t know what to do. You turned and started to walk away from him so he quickly followed after.

“Where are you going?”

“Home, Peter.” You said without stopping.

“No. You can’t leave now. We have to talk about this. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say. You can take it all out on me. Just don’t go, please.” Peter begged as he stepped in front of you to stop you.

“I don’t want to cry anymore, Peter. I’m done. This is done.” You cried and pushed past him to keep walking. Peter froze when he heard you use that word and felt his blood run cold.

“What? Done? Done with what?”

“With you. With us. With all of it. I’m not doing this anymore. I’m breaking up with you.” You said as you turned around to look at him. Peter felt his stomach drop and could barely hear you over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

“What? We can’t just break up. I love you.” He protested as he got that feeling in his nose that told him he was about to cry.

“That’s not good enough for me.” You shook your head.

“What?”

“You can say you love me as much as you want but until you prove that, I can’t be with you. I won’t be with you. I’m done.” You repeated and turned to walk away again. Peter quickly ran after you and dropped down to his knees in front of you.

“No, no. No. Please. Don’t leave me. Please. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, baby. Just give me one more chance.” He begged as he took both your hands. You looked down at him for a long time as you thought things he wished he could hear.

“Please.” He whispered, barely audible. You looked up again but it was no use to stop your tears from falling.

“Say something.” He pleaded and squeezed your hands.

“I’m saying goodbye.” You said after a beat of silence. Peter made the mistake of letting his hopes build up during that silence. He stayed on his knees as you pulled your hands out of his and walked away. His tears fell rapidly down his face and it wasn’t long before his heartache turned into misplaced anger. He got off his knees and turned in your direction.

“You’re not being fair.” He called down the street. You stopped in your tracks and turned around.

“Excuse me?”

“This isn’t fair. I didn’t ask to be bitten. I didn’t ask for this life and all this responsibility. But it happened to me and I’ll never know why but I do know that I have to do something about it. I wish I could be a normal guy my age and take my girlfriend on dates, but I can’t. I have a duty to this city to protect it. I hate that it’s true but sometimes, I have to chose helping someone in need over spending time with you. You’re acting like I went out of my way to neglect you on purpose.”

“I understand that you didn’t choose this, but you could have told me all of that from the start. Then maybe I would’ve been more sympathetic. But right now, all I can think about is every little lie you told me to keep me in the dark. Oh, I’m sick. Oh, I have homework. Oh, I have to help my boss with something. Tonight, you told me you weren’t gonna make it to our date because your aunt needed help with something. You didn’t even care enough to lie about what she needed help with. But, yet, at least I got a lie tonight. Sometimes you just don’t show up.”

“I had to lie, okay? Do you have any idea how much danger I’d be in if you let it slip who I really was?”

“So is it that you couldn’t tell anyone or you couldn’t trust me not to tell?” You asked as you walked back up to him.

“You know how you are. You tell your friends everything.” He said coldly.

“Are you seriously saying this is my fault?” You raised your eyebrows.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault.” He sighed. “I’m just saying that you’re being kind of selfish right now.“

“I’m being selfish?”

“Yes, you are. It’s selfish to expect me to prioritize you over the safety of-“

“Of who?” You cut him off. “Of literally all of New York? Of the world? Where does your domain of responsibility end? Who do you prioritize me over? Where do I rank? When do I matter to you?”

“That’s not fair.” Was all he could say because he didn’t know the answer to your questions.

“You know what else isn’t fair? Making me have to be the only bad guy here. Because the funny thing is that I would have been proud of you. I would have been honored to be the girlfriend of someone who risked their life and gave their time to protect people they didn’t even know. But you never gave me the opportunity to feel that way. You chose to lie to me. You chose this over me every single time. You never chose me. That’s why we’re breaking up. I would have understood if you needed to prioritize saving lives over dates with me but I cannot understand you lying to my face every single day for years. I spent birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, and countless nights staring at the empty seat I saved for you that you never showed up to. So no, I don’t think I’m being selfish right now. I don’t think it was selfish of me to share my boyfriend with all of New York.”

Peter was quiet again as he processed what you had said. There was no way to undo what he had done and it was clear apologizing wasn’t cutting it this time.

“I don’t know how to be without you. You’re my best friend. None of this matters without you.” Peter said in a small voice. You sighed and felt sympathetic towards him for just a moment.

“Peter, you were and always will be my first love. That’s always going to mean something to me. But now I have to look back at our relationship and never know what was real and what was a lie. If you’re not going to choose me, then I will. I’m done waiting around for you. I’m done.”

“Please, don’t give up on me. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He croaked out.

“But you did.”

“I know. I know I did. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I’ll never stop trying to make things right.” He pleaded and tried to reach for you again.

“Don’t bother, Peter. You need to stay away from me for a while.” You told him in a calm voice.

“What? How long?” He blinked in disbelief.

“I don’t know. A long time.”

“But can we at least be friends? Like we were before?” He asked desperately.

“We can’t be friends.” You shook your head and turned to leave again.

“What? Not even friends?” His voice cracked as he called after you.

“I can’t be your friend. I can’t be in any kind of relationship with you. That’s what I’m trying to say here. I don’t trust you.”

“Ever?” He squeaked out. “We can’t ever find our back to each other?”

You didn’t answer him as you walked home alone. Peter stood on the sidewalk for a long time, unsure of what to do with himself now. He wanted to run after you and get you to see his side, but he knew that would just make things worse. You had said what you needed to say and he had to respect that as much as it pained him to see you walk away. Instead of going after you, he swung to Ned’s house and climbed through his window.

“We broke up.” The words fell out of Peter’s mouth as he pulled his mask from his tear stained face.

Peter let a month pass before he tried to speak to you again. Minus a few texts and voicemails left on particularly miserable nights, he had left you alone for the most part. But after counting down the 31 painfully long and quiet days without you, he went up to you in the hallway on campus one day.

“Hey.” He greeted you with an anxious smile. You stopped walking and looked behind you to make sure you were the one he was talking to.

“Hi.” You said with knit eyebrows of confusion.

“How are you? How have you been?”

“I’m fine.” You said flatly.

“Did you just come from class? Was it okay?”

“Um, I really don’t want to be mean here but why are you talking to me?” You asked him. Peter blinked in surprise at your response and lost all the confidence he had built up.

“Oh, um. I don’t know. We haven’t talked into a month. I was giving you space.”

“Why’d you stop?”

“Stop what?”

“Giving me space.” You replied. “I still don’t want to talk to you.”

“But it’s been a month.” He pointed out and realized how silly he sounded as it came out of his mouth.

“Okay? We ended a year long relationship and years of friendship. We can’t just go back to normal after that.”

“But…but we’re different.” He stammered. “We were different. I thought, I don’t know, maybe…”

“Maybe what? I’ll just forget about the shit you put me through?” You asked when he trailed off. He shut his mouth and went quiet and you couldn’t help but feel bad at the deer in headlights look he had in his eyes.

“Peter, I told you.” You sighed. “We can’t be friends.”

“I know we can’t go right back to how we were but we don’t have to pretend the other doesn’t even exist.” He insisted.

“No, Peter, you’re not understanding. I won’t be your friend. I won’t even fake niceties with you. I’m not trying to be mean but I don’t want you in my life in any capacity. I’m not changing my mind on this.”

“We can’t just never speak again. Our story can’t end like this.” He said quietly and you could tell he was on the verge of tearing up.

“It wasn’t supposed to. But it is. So please, just leave me alone.” You asked calmly so that he wouldn’t break down.

“I can’t. This is killing me. You and I not being together doesn’t make sense to me. Please. I’ll do anything to make this right. I still love you and-“

“Peter. Please. We’re at school.” You cut him off and uncomfortably looked around for who was listening.

“You’re telling me you don’t feel anything for me anymore? Because I don’t believe that. I know you. I know you can’t shake things that easily.”

“I didn’t think so either. But I’ve never been hurt like this.”

“Then can we please go somewhere and talk? I’ll listen this time. I swear.” Peter pleaded and stepped forward to touch your arm. You stared at him for a minute and looked sympathetic so he thought you might say yes.

“I can’t.” You said finally. “I have class. I have to go.”

“Oh, okay.” He nodded in disappointment. “Maybe some other time then. Just please know how sorry I am for hurting you.”

“You don’t need to keep apologizing, Peter.” You sighed. “I’ve moved on. I think you should too.”

“You’ve moved on? Like, with another guy?” Peter blinked a few times to stop the tears he felt threatening to spill out at this new bit of information.

“Not that it would be any of your business if I did, but no.” You amswered. “I just mean that I’d been mourning our relationship before it even ended so I accepted our breakup a long time ago. I’ve moved on now.”

“Were you really that unhappy?” Peter asked in a small voice.

“Well, yeah, Peter.” You admitted. “I loved you when you were around but it felt awful the nights you were gone. I felt completely alone a lot of the time. And even when you were with me, I was never sure you wanted to be there.”

“I always wanted to be with you.” He promised. “If you ever believe something I say again, just know how badly I wished I could have been there with you.”

You chewed your bottom lip and stared into his eyes as you tried to decide if you should believe him or not. You swore never to believe another word out of his mouth but his tired eyes seemed so genuine that you knew there must be truth to his words. But even if he was telling the truth, that didn’t matter to you anymore.

“I can’t talk about this right now. I have class.”You repeated. “Get some sleep tonight, okay? You don’t look so good.”

Another month went by and Peter was starting to feel used to not speaking to you. The thought of it beginning to feel normal to not have you in his life scared him so he called you up one night and listened to your voicemail with tears in his eyes. By month three, he pretty much just felt numb. He was falling to pieces very quickly and you were the only one who could save him. He’d seen you around on campus and sometimes get a pity wave if he stared too long. Every so often, he’d follow you home but keep his distance on rooftops. He swore you knew he was there as sometimes you’d stop and look up. He made no effort to hide but you made no effort to seek him out.

Peter was on his nightly patrol one night when his police radio started going crazy. He heard the words “bus crash” and “pile up” being reported over and over so he picked up his radio to listen for where it was. Once he had a location, he swung to the bridge and landed in the middle of the scene. Peter saw one of the large city buses on its side and twenty some cars piled up behind it. Police officers were already on the scene and helping people but Peters senses were telling him danger was still present.

“How can I help?” Peter asked an officer.

“Usually I don’t like seeing you at crime scenes but you might be able to help us. A bus is about to over the side of the bridge and our extraction guys are having a hard time getting onto the bridge with all the traffic.”

“Which bus?” Peter asked and looked around.

“It’s over there. Bus Q8.” The officer pointed out. There was a bus hanging over the side of the bridge with its nose pointed towards the water. Peter could see people inside trying to stay calm so they didn’t shake the bus.

“Q8? My girlfriend takes that bus.” Peter’s mouth went dry as his head shot back to the bus teetering over the edge of the bridge.

“Then you better hurry.” The officer called after Peter. The bus was on its side so Peter opened up the emergency hatch on the top and climbed inside. He calmed down the people on the bus one by one and assured them that he was there to get them to safety. As he spoke to the passengers, he kept an eye out for you but didn’t see you in any of the seats. You normally took the bus home at this time and Peter found it hard to believe this was the one day you didn’t.

“Was there a girl on this bus with a purple backpack? She was wearing brown converse and a jean jacket today. Did any see her?” He asked the passengers.

“Yeah. She was sitting over there.” Someone answered and pointed to the back of the bus. Peter went to your seat but only found your backpack.

“This is her backpack. Where is she?” He asked and felt his fear rise quickly. He looked around and saw that the back door of the bus was opened. He pushed the door open a little more and the bus wobbled at his movement.

“Did she leave?” Peter asked with his panic evident in his voice.

“She was helping a few people get out of the back until this little boy ran out. She told the mom she’d go find him. I haven’t seen her since.” Someone else informed him.

“Okay. Thank you. I’m gonna get you guys to safety.” Peter promised. He helped people out of the back of the bus one by one after securing the bus to the bridge with his webs. Once he was sure everyone was out safely, he began to search for you. He had an anxiety like nothing he had ever felt as he searched through the crowds for your face. As he looked around the scene, he heard a woman talking to a police officer about a girl falling over into the water. Peter felt his hair stand up and approached them.

“Excuse me? Was the girl who fell into the water wearing brown converse?” He asked and hoped the answer was no.

“I think so.” The woman replied but couldn’t be sure.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He asked.

“This girl helped me get my son after he ran off the bus. He had climbed into an empty car nearby to hide so she climbed in to get him. But the car fell into the water before she could get out herself.” The woman replied as she clutched her son to her chest.

“Did…did the car go under?” Peter asked with a dry mouth. The woman looked pained at his question and he already knew her answer.

“When I looked over the side, I saw it sink under the water. I’m so sorry. There was nothing I could do. Did you know her?” The woman asked and placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. The police officer started asking Peter questions but he couldn’t hear anything. He felt like he was about to pass out and stumbled backwards. He took off running towards the side of the bridge and looked over into the water. The rocky river water looked especially treacherous that night, sending a sick feeling to Peter’s stomach. He wasted no time and dove into the water in search of you. He swam down and eventually found a car in the water but when he pulled the doors open, there was no sign of you. Peter quickly swam up to gasp for air before going back down to look again. He did this five times before he exhausted himself. He dragged himself onto the little patch of grass at the base of the bridge and laid on the ground. He pulled his mask off and let out a guttural sob as he covered his face with his hands. He knew he had to pull himself up and help the people on the bridge but his entire body felt like lead. He rubbed the saltwater out of his eyes and took another minute to recover. As he rolled over to get himself up, he made eye contact with you.

“Peter?” You asked in a shaky voice. You were wet from the river and holding yourself as you slowly walked toward him.

“You’re okay?” Peter asked as he got up off the ground. You were shivering from the cold and he wished desperately that he had something he could cover you with.

“Yeah. I managed to get out through the trunk of the car. I was on the other side of the platform when I heard you crying. Did you go looking for me?” You asked when you realized he was wet too. Peter was still in stunned silence at the sight of you okay after accepting that you had likely drowned.

“You’re okay.” He said and started to get all chocked up again. Peter took a step forward and opened his arms to hug you hit stopped himself. He stepped back and hugged himself instead.

“What are you doing?” You wondered.

“Giving you space.” He said seriously. It made you laugh for some reason which he didn’t understand but he didn’t question it.

“Shut up.” You said when your laughter stopped.

“I didn’t say anything.” Peter said as you threw your arms around him. He stumbled back in surprise but then hugged you back tightly. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and slipped his hands into your hair to hold you closer. It felt like muscle memory to hold you again and the chill in his bones was gone in seconds.

“That was really scary. When the car fell into the water. I couldn’t breathe.” You choked out and he held you tighter.

“I know. Shhh. I know.” He whispered in your ear as you struggled to catch your breath. You pulled away just a little so that you could look at him.

“I thought of you.” You admitted. “When I was trying to find my way back to the surface. I was so tired and my lungs felt like they were going to explode but I just kept thinking that I needed to see you again. That’s what kept me going.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner. I should’ve been here.”

“It’s okay. You’re here now.” You smiled sadly and touched his face. Peter returned the sad smile, the kind the made his eyes crinkle. But as he stared into your eyes, he couldn’t help but think of the things you had said the night you broke up.

“I should’ve been there for you a lot more than I ever had been.” He began. “You didn’t deserve to spend all those nights alone wondering where I was. I should’ve been a better boyfriend to you. I should have just told you the truth. I don’t even know who I was protecting in the end. I told myself it was you but that’s not true because you still got hurt and I was the one who hurt you. And I’m so sorry for that. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry for all of it.”

“Peter, you don’t have to do this right now.” You assured him.

“I do. Because I don’t know when you’re gonna talk to me again and I have so much I have to tell you. So I need you to know that I’m sorry for all the times you got dressed up for me and just never showed. I’m sorry I let you think the distance between us was all in your head even though I felt it too. I’m sorry for all the calls and texts after we broke up because I could never stay away from you. And for following you home everyday because you looking up when you thought to was around was the closest to an encounter that we had most days. And I’m sorry that I clearly didn’t love you hard enough if you were able to move on so quickly. I guess the absence of my love wasn’t much worse than the presence of it. Or maybe the presence of it already felt like an absence. I know I was barely there in the end. I know you deserve better. And I hope you get better. You were always the best part of me and now I’m just the loser who got really lucky that a cool girl liked him and found a way to fuck it all up.”

“You didn’t fuck it all up.” You smiled sadly. “We had a lot of good times too. We were happy.”

“Not enough for you to stay. Which I don’t blame you for. I wish it didn’t take losing you to realize how much I needed to change but it did. So I don’t blame you for being fine without me. You’ll always be fine. You’re better off now without me in your life and I’m just falling to pieces. I guess when a heart breaks, it doesn’t break even.”

You started at him for a moment as your eyebrows came together. You let out a short laugh and expected him to do the same but he just looked confused.

“That’s that song.” You said finally.

“What?”Peter frowned. “What song? I’m pouring my heart out here.”

“I’m falling to pieces, yeah. I’m falling to piece, yeah. Cause when a heartbreak no it don’t break even.” You sang quietly and Peters eyes went up in surprise.

“Oh shit. It is that song.” Peter realized. “Damn it. I thought I made that up. I’ve been listening to The Script a lot lately. Especially the one that’s like “cause if one day you wake up and find that you’re missing me and your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be.” I’ve been blasting that one so much that May had to take my speakers away. So then I started scream-singing it and she threatened to kick me out.”

“It’s so like you to accidentally quote a popular song and think you made it up yourself.” You laughed softly. “You said I so confidently that I genuinely believe for a second that those were your own words. But no. It was just the musical stylings of the popular early 2000s band The Script.”

“The Script are the only people that understand me right now.” Peter mumbled, making you laugh again.

“You laugh but they make the best music for yearning.” Peter continued just to make you laugh again. He smiled at the sight of you laughing at something he had said after so many months of silence between you. When your laughter died down, you looked at him for a moment the way that you used to.

“I don’t want you to yearn anymore.” You told him and gave his hand a squeeze. Peter understood what you were getting at and nodded his head.

“Do you think we could try again?” He asked in a soft voice. You smiled a little and took a step closer to him to rest your hands on his chest.

“I think so.” You answered.

“I swear, everything will be different this time.” He insisted. “I won’t leave you lonely anymore. And we can take it at any pace you need. Just tell me what I can do to earn back your trust.”

“I don’t know. I think maybe I can trust a guy who dives into the Hudson River for me.” You said with a coy smile as you nodded towards the water.

“I really hate to do this right now but that’s actually the East River of-“

“I don’t care.” You laughed and pulled him into a kiss to shut him up.

Tag List 🏷️

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker whump #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n

[rafeandonlyrafe]

executive orders

words: 3.8k

warnings: 18+ only, ceo!rafe, assistant!reader, mean!rafe but equally mean!reader lol, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pretend marriage (like fake dating but fake marriage hehe)

“so…” the woman says, heels clicking down the pristine hallway as you quickly follow. “as you were told in the interview process, mr. cameron is a very particular man. as his personal assistant, your focus is more on his well-being than the business.”

“okay, i understand.” you nod. you find the whole thing odd. the interview process where you didn't actually meet the man you'd be the personal assistant to. his semi nondescript job. ceo. of some company named after him, but you don't know the specifics on what his role actually includes.

“just know…” she pauses outside of the large door leading into the room. “this isn't going to be an easy job. it's why you're making a lot of money.”

“okay.” you say again. the more you learn, the more concerned you are, but you're willing to try, even if just for one day.

“and you're paid for through the cfo. mr. cameron does not have firing rights no matter what he says.”

you're not sure what she means, but it becomes very apparent when the moment you step through the door, the man you presume to be mr. cameron let's out a growl.

“serena, i told you i don't need a fucking babysitter!” you turn around, but the door has already been shut behind you. you can hear serenas heels clicking quickly down the hallway. you had completely forgotten her name in the stress of your first day, but you commit it to memory before turning to the ceo.

“hello, sir.” you say quietly. “im y/n.”

“i don't need you.” he grunts out before focusing on his computer, typing rather angry and aggressively. you stand frozen, waiting.

“i said i don't need you. leave. you're fired.” mr. cameron says.

“i um… i don't think you can fire me. sorry, sir.”

his fingers pause as he looks up at you, seeming to finally really see you as his eyes move down then back up your body. you weren't sure what to wear so you're dressed in a black work dress with long sleeves and a pair of flats. under his watchful eye, you wish you would have worn something less form fitting.

“i hate being called sir.” he says.

“okay, mr. cameron then.” you take a few shuffling steps forward.

“rafe.” he shakes his head. “just rafe. mr. cameron is my fucking dad and he's dead.”

your instinct is to say sorry for his loss, but you can't find the words, which ultimately seems to be the right thing as rafe hums then turns back to his computer screen.

you watch him work for a few minutes, occasionally looking around the sparsely decorated office. you swear every time you look away, rafes eyes move up to look at you, but by the time your gaze travels back to him, he's back typing on his computer.

“goddamn it.” he groans out. “don't just stand there all day. if you're gonna be here and i can't fire you, you might as well sit down.”

“oh!” it takes you a minute to realize he's talking to you as his eyes don't stray away from the screen, but then you're quickly moving to sit on the chair positioned on the other side of his desk.

you sit again, watching rafe, watching the clock, watching the view out the window. “what would you like for lunch, si-rafe?”

“whatever.” he waves his hand. “it's not your job to get it. someone will bring lunch to us.”

“oh.” you nod, becoming increasingly more aware that you're not really sure what your job is.

just like rafe said, someone brings in lunch at exactly 12:30, one tray for you and one for rafe.

when he closes his computer, you think that now will finally be the time to talk, but he eats in silence. “so-”

“no small talk.” rafe says. “i hate that shit.”

“well, what is it you'd like me to do then? just sit here? at least give me a task.”

“fine.” rafe grunts out. “when you're finished eating you can read through this report.” he tosses a thick three ringed binder onto the desk in front of you.

“fine.” you argue back, quickly scarfing down your food before grabbing the binder. 

you read through the report. you have no clue what the numbers mean, but you do find a couple punctuation mistakes and highlight them. rafe seems surprised you have any notes at all, his eyebrows raising when you grab the marker from his desk.

“there.” you place the binder down once you reach the last page. its tedious work, but at least it's something other than utter silence.

“great.” rafe takes the binder and tosses it into the trash can. 

“hey!”

“those were numbers from four years ago.” you can see the smirk on rafes features, his amusement at getting you to do something completely pointless.

“you're a real dick, you know?” you say, blurting the words out before you can think of the consequences, it's not like you want to keep the job anyways.

rafe sits silently, but his eyes are on you, hands frozen as you continue on.

“you should hear the way people talk about you. everyone is afraid of you, which you may think makes you a macho boss, but it just makes you a shitty guy to work for. no wonder you have to pay everyone two times more than any other company around here, they need that for putting up with your rudeness.” you rant, suddenly sucking in air as your words come to an end.

“it's 5pm. done for the day. ill walk you out.” rafe stands, but you move quicker, pushing the doors open and leaving him to walk behind.

you stop when you see serena and the cfo quietly chatting. you open your mouth to say you quit when rafe speaks from behind you.

“i like this one. make sure she's here tomorrow by 9am.”

you turn and look to him, but he's already walking away.

--

you weren't planning on showing back up, but serena is a convincing woman.

“good morning, rafe.” you place a drink carrier down onto the corner of his desk, plucking out your mocha before schooching the rest towards him. “i didn't know what you like. i got a hot black coffee, a caramel frappe and the a cappuccino.”

rafe stares at the drinks before picking up the frappe. you smile, you should have predicted that despite his hard exterior, rafe liked a sweet drink.

serena gave you the company card, saying to use it for any and all expenses, even grocery's or home decor, she didn't care, as long as you entered the building by 9 am tomorrow.

“i know you hate small talk, but you'll have to get over it. what does this company even do?” you take a sip of your mocha, the taste chocolatey on your tongue.

“we are a development company. real estate all across the world. we also manage construction.”

“oh.” you frown. “that's more boring than i thought.”

rafe let's out a soft chuckle, pleasant sounding to your ears.

“everything just seems so secretive.” you shrug.

“i think they didn't want you to know a lot in case you turned down the job. you're the longest an assistant has lasted.”

“and what…” you lean in, ignoring that it's only your second day. “exactly am i supposed to do?”

“just… keep me in check.” rafe shrugs. “i have a tendency to get angry. bad news will get passed through you. you're here to be a sounding board, where i can vent and bounce ideas off of.”

“i make 100k a year for that?” you scoff.

“i think 50 of that is just for dealing with me.” 

you laugh along with rafe. maybe you'll end up lasting an entire week.

-- two months later --

“are you free this weekend?” rafe asks.

“uh, yeah, why?” you question. you've learned rafe likes when you stand up to him, speak your mind and not let him push you around like he does everyone else. he's come to respect you for it, and it's made work much easier.

“im needed in new york city. id like for you to come with me. as my assistant.”

“sure, ill start looking for hotels.” you open up your laptop.

“spare no cost. i want somewhere nice.”

you roll your eyes dramatically. “of course you do.”

you already knew to look only at 5 star hotels, the most expensive of the lot. despite the short notice, you find two connecting suites that will work for you and rafe.

“and how are we getting there?” you ask. “want me to talk to jeffery about taking the private jet?”

“yup, i want to fly into laguardia, not jfk.”

“got it.” you nod, finding the correct number in your phone before stepping out to talk. you confirm all the details, jotting down times in the notes app on your phone.

you stop by after the phone call to update serena of your plans, learning she's a secretary of sort for the whole company, really the number two right behind rafe.

“hey girl.” you smile. “heading to nyc with mr. cameron for the weekend.”

“oh, good.” she sighs happily. “he's been needing to go out there.”

“yeah.” you shrug. “if you say so!” you keep yourself firmly out of the business side, just like she told you your first day here.

“make sure you do something fun while you're there too. while he's in meetings you could see times square, or check out central park.”

“i definitely will! i want to see the cherry blossoms if they're still in bloom.”

“sounds fun.” serena nods before her desk phone begins to read. “sorry, gotta get this.”

“see ya.” you wave as you walk back to rafes office.

“all good?” he questions.

“laguardia, just as you want.” you smile, sitting back at your upgraded chair.

“don't know what id do without ya.” rafe says.

“don't be nice to me.” you scrunch your name up. “it's weird.”

--

“how were the cherry blossoms?” rafe asks.

“most of them still in bloom, actually.” you say with a soft smile. you ended up taking a lot of pictures along with exploring the rest of the park.

“nice.” he hums. “did you bring an evening dress?”

“no. and you didn't tell me i was supposed to.” you say.

“well… i would appreciate it if you joined me at dinner tonight. it's with a very important client who um… may be under the impression that im traveling with my wife.”

“your- your wife?” your eyes widen. “you want me to lie about being your wife?”

“just for tonight. id really appreciate it.” rafe looks at you with a softness in his eyes. “please.”

“okay… but i don't have an evening gown… or anything fancy.” 

“let me take you shopping then.” rafe pulls out his phone. “there's got to be a nice store near us.”

you place your hand on top of rafes phone. “ill find a place.”

you end up finding a formal store only a couple blocks away. you decide to walk, rafe keeping close to you, glaring at anyone who even glances at you for too long.

you make it to the store without any interruptions, and rafe quickly points out the kinds of dresses that will fit the restaurant before standing back to let you choose.

“you wanna watch me try them on, husband?” you ask rafe, following the associate with an armful of dresses back towards the private changing rooms.

“of course.” rafe follows behind you, eyes glancing down your figure. he can't wait to see you in a gorgeous fitted dress.

when you step out in the first dress, rafe swears he feels his heart skip a beat. “you're getting that one.”

“you sure?” you look in the mirror, twirling around to look at the dropped back. “i don't know if this color looks good on me.”

“it looks good on you.” rafe says. “but by all means, try on more. ill buy you multiple.”

rafe ends up buying you every single dress you try on except for one that's too loose and doesn't fit well. you insist you only need one, but you're not going to argue with your boss wanting to spend money on you.

you end up choosing the first one you tried on to go to the dinner with rafe. your hands shake slightly, not sure what to expect. rafe sees it, hesitating before wrapping your hand in his.

“it'll be fine. you can just… just be quiet for the most part. ill do all the talking.”

“okay.” you squeeze his hand back, not used to the physical contact with rafe, but finding it surprisingly comfortable.

you follow him into the restaurant, everyone else dressed to the nines, perfect hair and makeup on the women, the men with the shiniest shoes. “it's really beautiful in here.” you whisper.

“wait till you taste the food… wifey.” rafe says, making you both laugh.

“ah, mr. and mrs. cameron.” the man says in a slightly accented voice as you both shake his hand, as well as the associate next to him. “so glad to meet the both of you. we appreciate getting into business with a true family man.”

“of course.” you smile, putting on your best acting performance. “we are so excited to start our family soon.”

“we must see the wedding photos. my wife-” the man puts a proud hand on his chest. “is a wedding dress designer.”

“oh.” you frown. “i would love to show you, but we haven't gotten them back yet.” you smile at rafe. “we’re newlyweds.”

“ah, cheers to the beginning of a lovely marriage then.” he raises his glass to clink with the others at the table.

“please, kiss! you must after a toast.” the associate says.

you turn to rafe, glancing down to look at his lips. it would totally give you away to refuse, so you take a deep breath and lean into in, pressing your lips together in a quick kiss. it lasts only a moment, but you swear you feel a spark, a tug to continue kissing him.

rafe doesn't bring it up until later, as your riding the elevator back up to your hotel room. “you did great. im sorry about the kiss.”

“it wasn't bad.” you giggle softly, slightly drunk on the wine that was served.

“im glad you think that.” rafe smiles softly. “you'll make a wonderful wife to a very lucky man someday.”

“maybe we could…” you swallow harshly, the alcohol encouraging your words you know you shouldn't say. “maybe we could keep pretending. just for tonight. and then when we get back to the office things can be back to normal.”

“and what does continuing to pretend to be husband and wife entail?” rafe questions, taking a step closer to you.

“more kissing. more… more.”

rafes lips are against yours suddenly, ignoring the elevator doors sliding open in favor of his mouth pushing against yours, lips gliding harshly over each others. the kiss is the exact opposite of the restaurant, whereas it was quick and innocent, this kiss is full of fire and passion.

the elevators slide shut and begin to head back down to the lobby. “shit.” rafe groans against your lips, jamming the button towards your floor. “sorry baby.”

“just… keep kissing me until someone gets in.” rafe listens to your pleas, kissing you until the elevator comes to a halt. even then, he doesn't move far away, keeping himself stood possessively over you, your back against the elevator wall.

you smile awkwardly at the three men who enter before turning your face into rafes chest, focused on the hand that has slipped around your waist. 

the elevator stops and the three men get off. the second it's moving again, rafe is back kissing you, stumbling out when your doors open as to not make the same mistake as last time.

“shit.” rafe groans, having to fumble in his pocket to get the key card for the door.

you let out a soft giggle, pressing kisses to his neck and jaw until the door swings open and you're able to step in the room.

“are you sure?” rafe asks, closing and locking the door behind you.

“im sure.” you nod. “this is just… pretend. let's do what husbands and wives do.”

rafe moves you towards the bed, backing you up until you sit down on the plush spread, decorated exactly like yours in the connecting room, but this bedding still smells like rafe from the night before.

he sinks to his knees, such a strong, dominant man on the floor for you as he takes off your heels, carefully slipping them off your soles before setting them to the side.

“thank you.” you say softly. rafe looks up at you before leaning forward, pushing the slit of your dress open to press kisses to your knees, and then thighs, moving up until the dress no longer allows him to.

“i need you to take this off.” he says roughly.

you nod, shifting yourself to stand as rafe also rises. you turn your back to him, his hands moving to your waist before moving up until he's cupping your chest over the shiny material.

“rafe-” you gasp out as he squeezes, his large palms enveloping your entire breast.

rafe holds his hands there for a moment longer before moving them to your back, unzipping your dress and watching it fall to the floor. you're in just a small pair of lingerie, having bought it for yourself yesterday in a boutique.

“shit.” rafe curses again. “you're… you're so beautiful.”

you turn around to kiss him again, his hands now against your bare skin as he explores, moving all along your sides and back.

your own hands get busy as well, fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt until you can push it off his shoulders. you pull away to see his muscles, hints of which you've seen when he's rolled up his sleeves or wore a tighter than normal shirt, but now you can finally really see and appreciate them.

“lay down, please.” rafe says.

you move to lay on his bed, head resting against the pillows as rafe crawls over your body. his mouth finds yours again as his hand delves under your back to unhook your bra. he pulls it away from your body as his lips leave yours.

he's only off your skin for a moment before his mouth is wrapped around your nipple, tongue swirling around in circles as his hand holds your other breast.

“oh, shit.” it's your turn to curse as your eyes squeeze closed, hand coming to the back of rafes head, feeling his short hair as he sucks on your nipple before kissing all over the swell of your breast. he switches sides, wanting to taste all of you.

you lift your hips when his hand grabs onto your underwear, allowing him to pull it all the way down until you kick it off the bed. rafe pulls away to look between your legs, letting out a soft moan when you part your thighs and he can see how wet you already are.

“beautiful.” he says, eyes closing like it's too much to look at you as his hand skirts down your stomach before finding your wetness, finger circling around your entrance before gently pushing in.

“kiss me, please.” you take rafes face in your hands, guiding your mouths back together as his finger carefully thrusts in and out. he slowly increases the speed until you're whining against his lips for more.

rafe twists his hand so his thumb can rub over your clit as you let out a moan, hips pressing up, seeking more.

“i need you.” rafe pulls his hand away. “i need you so bad.”

you nod quickly, giving him one more quick kiss before he pulls away to take off his pants and underwear. you bite your lip once hes completely nude, his cock standing tall and hard away from his body. you want to taste him, want to see what it feels like to have his cock sit heavy on your tongue, but you need him inside of you more.

“i have a condom somewhere…” he looks around.

“you don't need to wear one. I'm on birth control.” you can feel your cheeks blush just at the suggestion. “it's… it's not what a husband and wife would do.”

“okay.” rafe doesn't need any more convincing, crawling back over your body. “do you want me like this?”

you flip over quickly so you're on top, rafes back now pressed into the mattress. you grab onto his cock, giving him a few quick strokes before you line him up with your cunt, sinking down with a synchronous moan.

you keep your eyes on rafes face as you begin to move, hips grinding up and then back, your hands sat firmly on his chest to help you move.

you're able to grind your clit down against his skin every time you sink fully down, just adding to the pleasure. he's stretching you out in the most pleasurable way, just enough to feel it without being painful.

“so fucking beautiful.” rafe says, reaching up to hold onto your tits as they bounce with your body.

you put all your energy into riding him, knowing this might be your only chance to, but hoping it's not, hoping you can feel him inside of you again.

“i- baby.” rafe grunts out, hands moving down to your hips. he helps you move as your legs quickly tire, not used to this position.

“you feel so good.” you whine out eyes sliding shut as rafes hips begin to push up, lifting you with every thrust, spearing his cock even further into you.

“im-im close.” you admit with a gasp, his cock hitting your sweet spot every time.

“cum for me baby, please.” rafe moves one of his hands to your lower stomach, thumb reaching down to rub over your clit.

you cry out, back arching as you instantly cum, not needing any more stimulation as your body shakes before flopping forward, falling against rafes chest.

he gives you a minute, as long as he can hold back before flipping you onto your back. it takes him only a few thrusts to cum inside of you, filling you up to the brim.

rafe flops down next to you, both breathing heavily, skin sheened in sweat.

you wait for a moment. to see if he's going to say anything. when he doesn't, you scooch closer to him, placing your hand on his cheek and bringing him in for a kiss, not yet done pretending.

-- four years later --

“you remember the first time we came here?” rafe asks, stepping into the restaurant with his hand wrapped around yours. it's redecorated some, but is still familiar.

“how could i forget.” you smile at him. “where i first pretended to be your wife.”

“well, at least you don't have to pretend anymore,” rafe says, swiping his thumb over the diamond ring on your finger “mrs. cameron.”

#rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x oc #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe imagine #rafe blurb #rafe drabble #rafe one shot #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble

[tteokdoroki]

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — KATSUKU BAKUGOU. setting powder.

about. whilst getting ready to meet your new boyfriend’s extended family — you learn that he knows a thing or two about doing makeup.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, characters aged up to 20s, enemies to lovers, meeting the family, new relationships, brief mention of injury and hospitals, reader wears makeup and dresses, pro hero!bakugou, nurse/doctor!reader.

“we’re gonna be late, sweetheart.”

leaning against the door frame, bakugou crosses his arms over his chest — his perfect lips pulled into a suave smirk as he watches you finish your makeup for tonight.

“wha…huh? you said i had twenty minutes?” you’re still half dressed, your boyfriend’s baggy hoodie from an old merch collection draped over your sweet little dress to protect it from your foundation, your hair is tied back and away from your face so it doesn’t get in the way and though you’re still trying to blend your cream blush in with one of those sponge things — katsuki thinks you’re the most adorable thing in the entire world.

pushing himself off the door frame, he sits behind you on the bed — still watching you work at the vanity whilst he fixes the cuffs of his dress shirt. “that was twenty minutes ago,” the blonde rasps affectionately and grasps your at your jewellery laid out on the bed. the rough pad of his thumb traces over the ‘K’ on the silver heart locket he’d gotten you for your birthday before he undoes the clasp and places the chain around your neck — being mindful of your hair in the process. “y’said you’d be done by then.”

you catch your boyfriend’s vermillion stare in the reflection of your mirror — his subtle smile when he sees his initials dangling from your neck. it feels you with warmth to know that no matter what, katsuki will always find you beautiful and will always love you. even with how chaotic your makeup looks when half done. “i think i spent too long in the shower ‘n underestimated how long this look would take,” you sigh, reaching for your lip gloss next. you’ll have to put it in your purse, do your lips in the car. “do you think they’ll mind if we’re any later than this?”

“my parents won’t. neither will inko. deku — i mean — izuku will, but he’ll pretend he ain’t bothered,” bakugou prattles down the list, making a note of tonight’s attendees. it was tradition that the bakugous and the midoriyas had a monthly dinner together, it had been going on since the two pro heroes were children. only now, their partners were invited since they were family too. family included you.

you hadn’t gone to U.A and you certainly didn’t know katsuki until he became an up and coming pro hero. the first time he’d saved you, by the sidewalk of the hospital you worked at, you thought he was brutish and stuck up. you’d hated him and he’d hated you. but over time, and more frequent trips to A&E after saving civilians or sometimes after being wounded in villain attacks — you’d come to appreciate bakugou’s brooding personality and observant nature.

he’d come to like you too. how much you cared for others and wanted to make the world a better place. you reminded him a little bit of izuku, in a strange way.

so one night when you were on call, katsuki brought you flowers instead of a stomach wound that needed stitches and you’d given him a kiss instead of berating him about being careful, over vanilla and chocolate pudding cups from the hospital cafeteria.

signing impatiently, you bring katsuki back to present day. “i wanted to make a good impression on your aunty and on your best friend,” rubbing your arm nervously, you cast your gaze over the mess on your vanity — expensive products splayed across them in organised chaos.

“you will. they’re gonna love you. they already do,” bakugou stands behind you now, rough palms smoothing over your shoulders. “izuku says you’ve made me less bitchy at work. whatever the fuck that means.”

you giggle, eyes sparkling in delight as you look at the blonde in the mirror. “really?”

“really,” he nods sheepishly. the way you look at him makes him feel so loved. it’s new to him. nice to him. “now, whaddya need help with s’we can hurry up ‘n hit the road.”

you begin to ramble on, perking up at the idea of katsuki helping with the rest of your routine.“well… i’ve done my lashes, my eyes, my base and blush… i can do lips in the car. aside from putting on earrings and fixing my hair all i need is to set my face with—“

“settin’ powder,” bakugou grabs the little pot from your vanity as if he knew where it was all along, picking up a little face cushion as well as he prepares to get to work. “got it.” he dips the cushion into the translucent powder, rubbing the excess off on the back of his hand before leaning in real close to dab at the areas he thinks you need it. like your t-zone.

your boyfriend’s touch is like magic on your face, perfectly setting your makeup while making you feel like a pampered princess. “who taught you how to do this?” comes your shy mumble, his proximity to your face causing you to grow flustered and squirm in your seat. “h-how are you so good at it?”

“keep still, i’ll be finished faster if y’stop squirmin’ sweetheart. don’t wanna mess up what you’ve done already,” pausing his actions, katsuki gives you a toothy smirk — revelling in how bashful you’ve become under his touch while he helps you with your makeup. “…grew up behind the scenes of fashion shows ‘n shoots. so i picked up a thing or two i wanted to make sure i could still do it so i watched a couple of videos on it too. ‘n i noticed…you always put so much time ‘n effort into your makeup. wanted to help make the process easier for you.”

you feel as though you could melt at katsuki’s kind words and gesture as he dabs at your face a little more — tongue caught between the toes of his pew rlly white teeth as he sticks it out in concentration. he’s so cute it makes you want to scream. “you’re sweet,” you coo appreciatively, stilling yourself to let him finish before he pulls back — satisfied with his work. “i love you.”

it’s not the first time you’ve said it to one another, but the three words are still new to the both of you. “i uh…i love you more,” a pink, rosey hue rises on the surface of bakugou’s tanned skin and his red, loving eyes dart away from your face bashfully. “‘m gonna get your shoes ‘n jacket ready by the door while that sits. don’t forget your settin’ spray after you brush that shit off — oh ‘n don’t take my hoodie off until you’ve done that. don’t wanna ruin your dress, kay?”

“okay,” you respond fondly, hiding your smile at his very specific instructions. “i’ll be down in a minute.”

katsuki nods hesitantly, standing up as he gathers your belongings and outerwear — ready to load them up in the car, when he suddenly pauses in place. “you look beautiful tonight, sweetness. you always do.” he adds as one last parting message, before disappearing down the hall.

leaving you wondering how you ever lucked out with such a man. one who’s not only kind and gentle and loving, but a pro hero and a makeup artist at that.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

#tteokdoroki #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou drabble #bakugou fluff #bakugou x you #bakugo fluff #bakugou imagines #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha imagines #mha x reader #mha fluff #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 2

in which fem!reader is feeling insecure about how inexperienced she is around spencer's friends and seeks his expertise to amend the problem

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, oral f receiving, (MUNCH!SPENCE RETURNS), fingering, (very) insecure reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, nipple stuff, kinda sorta implied age gap, god i'm probably forgetting things pls lmk if i missed something important a/n: i've been laboring at this bad boy every day for so long i had to immediately post once it was completed lol. there will be a part three ... maybe i already started it ..... anyway i love u guys and i hope this is a satisfactory part two!! PLS lmk if you liked it!! hearing from u makes my day :')

When Spencer dropped you off at Penelope’s apartment for your first girl’s night—the hostess had promised you, JJ, and Emily lots of gossip sans 'icky men'—you had been ecstatic. You wouldn’t stop rambling to him about how excited you were. 

When he picks you up two and a half hours later, he can hardly get a word out of you. 

It’s not his fault, of course—well, not really, anyway. It’s just that all the girls had wanted to talk about was sex. A topic on which you held very little expertise and had essentially nothing to contribute. Out of the four, you were the only non-FBI agent, the youngest, and undoubtedly the least experienced. It was like high school all over again, except you actually desperately wanted to impress Spencer’s friends. All in all, you weaseled your way out of sharing without giving away that you were still very much a virgin. Sure, you could have said ‘we did hand stuff two weeks ago’, but you had a feeling these women wouldn’t consider that very impressive. 

But you can’t easily relay that information to Spencer—even when he immediately picks up on your sullen mood. He asks you what’s wrong as you make your way down the echoey staircase, but you hold back, muttering something along the lines of we’ll talk about it later. 

Later doesn’t come on the sidewalk outside. It doesn’t come in the car, or at any point during the twenty minute drive, but you feel it rapidly approaching as you climb the stairs to Spencer’s apartment. He unlocks the door and holds it open for you, doesn’t speak as you kick off your shoes and wander aimlessly into the living room.

“Did you eat?” He finally asks, hanging his keys on a hook by the door and glancing over to where you linger in the center of the room like a ghost. 

“Not hungry.”

You both know that wasn’t the question, but he lets it go. 

“Alright... well, I was thinking—“

“Why haven’t we had sex?”

The question flies from your mouth before you can stop it. It tastes like metal and you wish you could take it back as you stand there, cheeks hot and awaiting a reply. It seems you’ve thoroughly astonished Spencer as he gapes at you like a fish out of water for several silent moments, eventually opting to shove his hands in his pockets and shake his head at the wall as he processes the question. 

“I… I don’t know. We just haven’t. Does that bother you?”

Suddenly your whole body feels intolerably warm. Your fingers twitch against your thighs. Of course it bothers you. 

“Do you just not want to? You aren’t attracted to me like that?”

God, you despise how fragile your voice sounds—how much you obviously care, how insecure you clearly are. Spencer picks up on it, despite your most fervent wishing that he wouldn’t, and approaches, stopping a few feet away. You stare at the span of oriental design on the floor between your feet. 

“That’s not at all what I said, angel. I wish you wouldn’t put words in my mouth.”

“Well, then… say something else,” you plead quietly, childishly, still unable to meet his eyes. Prove me wrong. 

He sighs, which does not bode well for you. You wonder if you accidentally triggered the early demise of your relationship and christ do you wish you could rewind. When he steps closer, when his hands find your arms, you’re not sure where to look. But the low, sweet tone of his voice entices you to finally meet his gaze, charmed like a snake as his eyes dart between yours. 

“You know that’s not how I feel.”

You shake your head earnestly, looking up at him with wide eyes as he slowly rubs your arms. 

“No. No, I don’t know that.”

Spencer frowns, glancing at your lips as he speaks. It’s impossible to not do the same when he’s standing so close. 

“But I’ve told you. I don’t understand how you couldn’t know how far from the truth that is.”

You think back to two weeks ago—the first and only time he’d ever done anything more than kiss you. A different kind of flush replaces the shameful one in your cheeks as you try to make your case and not get distracted by the memories of his hands all over you.

“So why won’t you prove it?”

It’d been intended to come out cool, but instead you sound a little desperate, a little out of breath as you realize you and Spencer somehow ended up so close to each other you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. 

“Is that what you need from me? More proof?”

He speaks so lowly, his fingers press into the flesh of your arms portentously, and you think maybe you’ve poked the bear one too many times. But you won’t back down now—not when you think you might actually get what you want. 

So you look up at him and nod, throat too dry to speak. His eyes are deceptively soft, but you don’t miss the big bad something lurking just beneath the surface of the placid hazel. 

“And how do you think I should prove it?”

“I told you what I want,” you whisper, speaking above your pounding heart. 

“Not tonight, honey. Choose something else.”

“Well—that’s not fair,” you stammer, “the whole point is for you to want to have sex with me.”

Spencer smiles a little, tucking hair behind your ear. “I do want that. I promise you I do. But there are other things I want us to do first.”

“Then I want to do that, too! I just—I don’t know what I’m doing, and you do, and I’m already out on a limb by asking for this much. I know this is what I want but I need you to take the lead here. I trust you, Spencer.” You top off the monologue with an imploring gaze—hoping it delivers even a fraction of the impact that his puppy-dog eyes always have on you. 

He seems to study every square inch of your face as you wait in suspense for him to say something. At long last, his lips part—to no avail for several more seconds as he regards you. 

When the words finally do come, they’re an immense relief of pressure. 

“You’re going to promise me that you’ll communicate honestly. That means telling me if we need to slow down or stop, or if you don’t like something—”

“I promise,” you say, perhaps over-eagerly, offering him your extended little finger. 

An incredulous smile narrows his eyes. 

“Is this a pinky-promise?”

“It is.” You wiggle the finger in emphasis, and he shakes his head, smiling wider as you link pinkies. 

“I left you with Garcia for far too long.”

You shush him, disentangling your hands to cup his jaw and press your lips to his. It’s sweet and smiley until it isn’t—until everything slows down like sticky molasses and his hand is ghosting over your cheek, your neck, the curve of your waist, finally substantiating itself on your hip—the other encouraging you to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss and you feel yourself melting under the heat of his touch. 

The pressure of his body against yours builds until you’re forced to take a step back, and then another, and another. Without question you allow yourself to be herded toward the bedroom, walked slowly backward as he keeps kissing you and blindly trusting he’ll make sure you don’t run in to anything. The bedroom door clicks shut behind him, and it is in all practicality a pointless gesture—but you find it incredibly comforting nonetheless.  

It’s too warm beneath your sweater and his hands are cool as they slip under the hem, sliding against the curve of your hip. Spencer’s never seen you without a shirt, you realize, as he pulls away from the kiss by only centimeters.  

“Off?” he mutters, thumbing at the knit fabric. And while you’re far from confident, you’ve certainly been making progress in this area. You help him tug it over your head without a word, noting a distinct and surprising lack of terror within yourself as you watch for his reaction to you. Hands glide slowly up your waist and you find yourself enchanted by the slight furrow of his brow, the parting of his lips. He traces down the lacy edge of your bra, skimming sensitive skin as he goes. 

“Pretty,” he murmurs. “You’re… so pretty.”

It seems you’ve rendered him uncharacteristically prosaic. The reaction might be underwhelming if it were anyone else—but Spencer Reid is a man who probably knows every synonym for pretty in the English language. Looking at you, he can’t think of a single one. In an odd way, it’s the highest compliment he could pay you. Your cheeks heat and your stomach flips as he drags a knuckle up the center of the cup, and you can feel it through the layers of lace and fabric. He leans forward, ghosting his lips over yours and continuing to run his fingers over the sensitive spot. “Do you know how pretty you are?”

This is one argument you will not be winning—one he’ll keep bringing up at the most inopportune times until he gets his way. 

“Spencer…”

“Don’t Spencer me. I’m asking you a question.”

The words don’t seem nearly as harsh as they really are when they’re delivered velvet-soft, with his lips and hands on you—when he’s so deftly popping the button on your jeans and dragging the zipper down with all the quickness of a slight-of-hand. It makes it hard to focus, even harder to speak. 

“We have… we have differing views on this matter.”

Generous handfuls of your hips and ass are taken as he helps you tug down your jeans before you kick them off, now left just in your underwear. 

“I thought I argued my point fairly well last time you were here. You didn’t learn anything from that?”

“Mm… maybe you just need to remind me.”

“Oh, I think I have to,” he agrees through a smile you can only hear. Gentle fingers skim up your back and tap the clasp of your bra. “How about this? Can we take this off?”

Any confidence from earlier crumbles and you loose a nervous hum—which is not the enthusiastic yes you’re sure Spencer will be seeking all evening. He pulls away, features etched with the beginnings of concern and a searching gaze. Asking would be unnecessary; the words simply come tumbling out of you. 

“What if you don’t like how I look?”

Spencer doesn’t even blink.

“That’s not going to happen.”

How you wish you could have the same assuredness in yourself that he seems to. 

“But what if… what if you’ve been with other girls who are more, like—I don’t know, just—better? Prettier?”

“Honey, you’re—” a sigh, a pause as he searches for the words—his eyes dart up and down your form, assessing, and when he looks back up at you, they’ve cleared and softened. He pulls you a little closer, rubbing circles into your back with his thumb. “I’m not thinking about anyone else right now. I’m not interested in anyone else right now. I already think you’re perfect, and I’m going to keep thinking that regardless of how you look. When I look at you, I’m not looking for things to critique. Do you understand me?”

As far as sentiments go, it’s a nice one. But the pressure of being seen still feels like an impossible burden. You whine, leaning your head against Spencer’s chest. He accepts your weight and runs his hand over your back as you look up at him. 

“But what if I’m hideously deformed?”

His eyebrows raise. 

“You’re not.”

“But what if I am?”

“Okay. It seems like you don’t feel ready yet, which is completely fine, we just won’t—”

“No!” you protest. “I am ready. I am. But… you have to promise to be nice to me no matter what. Or break up with me if you don’t like what you see so I don't have to wonder.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, kissing you, “and the only thing I’m willing to promise is that I’ll think you’re perfect. Me being nice will come as a natural byproduct of that which is very different than being nice by artifice. Take it or leave it.”

A moment of hesitance—but it’s short-lived. This is more important than your insecurities. Spencer is more important. 

“Take it,” you mumble against his lips. His fingers trace up the smooth skin of your back, all the way to the fabric and metal hooks on your bra. 

“Thank you.”

You wouldn’t have thought Spencer’s genius would manifest in being really good at undoing the clasp of a bra, but you can truly say you’re impressed by the ease with which he does it. It falls to the floor, leaving you completely shirtless for the first time in front of him. 

“Well?” you murmur, arms crossed defensively underneath your chest, because you understand overtop would sort of ruin the whole thing. “What’s the verdict?”

“You,” Spencer manages after a moment—you literally watch him memorizing every square inch of your body— “are ridiculously beautiful.”

The way his voice gets quieter makes your stomach flip. It sounds genuine. Too genuine to be faked. 

“So… no breakup?”

It seems that the more vulnerable you feel, the less likely you are to take a compliment. Spencer, who is always seeking patterns, probably recognizes this one, and doesn’t push you so hard this time. After a silent moment, he sighs and cradles your face in his hands. 

“You’re gorgeous. I hate how incapable you are of seeing that. We’re going to talk about this.”

“Yeah, but not right now, right?” you murmur, standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him. 

“Not right now,” he agrees. 

His lips are so soft and gentle against your own it feels like love, it feels like being talked down from the ledge of your own insanity. Somehow the way he strokes your hip feels more nurturing than sexual. It’s like he has sex and chaste affection on tap, able to turn them on and off at will. You’re happy to drown in either. Ideally, both.

After a while, his hands begin roaming farther, become bolder in their excursions over your flesh. Up, down, over your waist and ribs. Clearly Spencer had been trying to ease you into it, but you still can’t hide your sharp inhalation when his thumbs graze the sensitive skin of your breasts. He pulls his lips from yours, hands splayed over your sides. 

“Sit down.”

It’s much too gentle to be a command, but you frown. 

“Without you?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles, lightly squeezing your waist. “Just sit. Utilize patience.”

You sit on the edge of the bed with an atypical reticence—you’re just a little too nervous for a snippy comeback. Spencer picks up on this, features softening sympathetically as he undoes his tie with nimble fingers. It lands somewhere on the bed and he leans over you, resting his weight on his fists and offering you a quick kiss. His voice is soft and designed to soothe as he speaks, mere inches away from your face, and so quiet it could only be heard at this range. 

“Are you nervous?” Cloth from the duvet pinches between your fingers. For a moment you don’t reply, dropping your head to watch when Spencer runs his hand over your thigh. “It’s okay if you’re feeling anxious, baby. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

You expel a frustrated huff. 

“I want to. Just because I’m nervous doesn’t mean I don’t want this. I can handle a little bit of anxiety.”

He hums, dropping to a crouch and inserting himself directly in your line of sight. 

“I know you can. But you don’t always have to push yourself so hard.”

“I’m fine pushing myself a little. I pinky-promised I would tell you if I wanted to stop, remember?”

“Oh, how could I forget a pinky-promise?” he smiles. 

How could you forget anything, you think, becoming flushed and silently insolent at his dulcet teasing. 

“Please, do something.” It’s a whisper, brushing his lips as you lean down until you’re nose to nose. His hands are on the back of your legs. 

“I’m working on it.”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“You’re smart, angel. Tell me why I've got you naked on my bed and I’m kneeling in front of you. Where could I possibly be taking this?”

Oh, you have a pretty strong inkling—but you’re scared to voice it and be wrong. Instead of risking it you shake your head slowly, shyly. What you’re not expecting is for Spencer to duck his head down, slide his hands up the side of your thighs and press kisses to the delicate skin there. It feels good—better than you’d have thought. 

“You don’t know?” he asks, looking up at you through burnished gold-rimmed pupils. “No guesses?”

“No guesses,” you agree breathlessly, hotter than you were when you had your clothes on and all the energy in your body condensed into one point between your legs. Spencer hums like he’s considering your answer, smoothing his thumbs over the soft skin of your thighs so gently it feels like burning. 

“I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful. Lie back, sweetheart.”

You do as you’re told, scooting up on the mattress and falling back on your elbows. Spencer wastes no time in climbing over you, leaving you in much the same position as the last time you’d been in his bed. The sheets feel cool against your bare skin, but he is exceptionally warm and solid over you. 

“I’m being honest.” Lie. “I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

Lips find the most sensitive spot of your neck, dancing over it torturously. The front of his shirt brushes your chest. Your thighs clamp together. 

“I don't like being lied to. Just say it, baby. I know you know.”

“Spencer,” you whine, fists bunching the excess fabric around his waist. Warm breath condensates on the skin of your neck as he chuckles. 

“You don’t like being teased, huh?”

“Please, Spence,” you whisper. You notice the pattern of his breathing pause momentarily before it all comes rushing out at once—and you catalogue that particular plea for later usage. 

“I can’t say no when you ask me like that.”

You push your fingers into his soft hair. 

“I know.”

It was a lucky guess. 

He’s still for a moment, relishing the feeling of your hands in his hair, before darting up to kiss you. 

“I’m going to use my mouth this time,” he murmurs against your lips. Though you knew that was what he intended, your heart stumbles in its perpetual march. “Is that okay?”

“What if I…”

You trail off. This is a very intimate situation which you’re not quite sure you have delicate enough language for. Or maybe you’re just stalling. Either way, Spencer is eternally patient with you. 

“You need to stop worrying so much, pretty girl. I’d love to do this for you. But it’s your call.”

“Love is a pretty strong word.”

“Sometimes I think not strong enough.”

The way he’s looking down at you so tenderly, brushing hair from your face, makes you think maybe he’s not just talking about how much he would love to go down on you. Regardless, it fortifies your trust in him. Spencer is the kindest person you know. He’s so clearly an enthusiastic giver. Why not allow him to give you this? 

“Okay,” you breathe. “You can—yeah.”

As usual, you’re impressively awkward, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, you think he not-so-secretly delights in being the one to fluster instead of the other way around. Rarely has he mentioned his past romantic and sexual exploits, but gathering bits and pieces, you assume he was a fairly late bloomer. He probably knows what it’s like to be nervous and so deeply unsure of yourself. 

“Do you remember what you promised me?” he whispers, pressing butterfly-light kisses to your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut as his lips traverse down your neck, teeth skimming over the delicate skin while your breath catches. 

“Mhm.”

“You’re not gonna break that promise, are you?”

His voice, soft and muffled by your skin, is the most exhilarating and disorienting high. Your entire body buzzes with anticipation, satisfied only where his lips soothe and his body presses against yours. It takes a moment for you to remember to reply. 

“No.”

Reward comes in the form of his thumb brushing over the peak of your breast at the same time as he murmurs, “good girl.”

Your stomach flips at the endearment—you squeak and arch into him slightly. Spencer’s hand slides down your ribs as he chuckles, lips pressed just above your collarbone. 

“You’ve never called me that before,” you shudder as he continues kissing over your neck. 

“It’s not appropriate in most conversational contexts. But I can tell you’ve always been good.”

“Really? How?”

Spencer pauses, pushing himself up to regard you with searching eyes. The places he’d kissed feel cold without him. 

“I just can. You’re thinking too much, baby. I need your focus on me.”

“It is on you,” you huff. 

You watch his expression shift minutely. He loves games. Of course he’d love playing with you. That knowledge is why you’re only partially surprised when his thumb catches on your nipple again. 

“Is it? You’re only thinking about how it feels when I touch you here?”

A stammering nod. 

He toys with the sensitive flesh only a second more, amusement lighting his eyes, before dragging his hand down, down, down until it’s between your legs. Fingers trail over your clothed core, skimming the most sensitive part of you while your breath hitches.  

“Tell me how it feels when I touch you here.”

“Really good,” you admit, a heavy exhale escaping parted lips as he pins you with his gaze. 

“Really good, right. I can make it feel even better. Do you want me to make it feel better?”

Your thighs drop fully open and he adds just a bit more pressure until you’re pushing against his hand in search of more friction. 

“Yes please.”

“Then no more questions. I need you to trust me.”

Your answer is a breathy, dreamy sigh—you’d do anything, say anything for him. 

“Okay.”

Spencer kisses you, absorbing your noises of protest as his hand ceases between your legs and settles on your hip. But you’re trusting him. No whiny complaining. No unnecessary questions. 

Things go much quicker once you’re not interrupting him every twenty seconds to say something. His lips reattach to your neck, retracing their path (albeit quicker) until he’s below your collarbone. You watch in rapt fascination, twisted brows and parted lips as he peppers kisses down over your breast before dragging his tongue over your nipple. A jolted little moan spills out because you hadn’t been prepared to hold one in. Waves of hair fall over Spencer’s face, obscuring him from your vision, but you don’t think to push it away—your body is too busy processing the sensation to be much use on any other front. He darts his tongue over the peaked flesh, eliciting more little open-mouthed exhalations of pleasure from you. Earlier you hadn’t really thought it necessary for your bra to come off—you had no idea this could actually feel so good. A moment later he begins toying with the other nipple and you gasp as a bolt of heat goes straight to your core. 

You curse, further words catching in your throat as he suddenly switches, mouthing at your other breast and letting the cold air chill the other until you have goosebumps. It feels a little like hypnosis—you’re unable to move or speak as his tongue laves over you. Soon he’s replacing his mouth with a thumb again, sucking a mark onto your tit just above your nipple. You whimper a little at the pleasant brutality of it, hoping as he releases that it won’t soon fade. Spencer swipes over the stinging skin and presses a tender kiss to it, almost like an apology—but you sincerely doubt he’s actually sorry. 

Then he resumes his descent, leaving soft kisses down between your breasts, over your ribcage and stomach—when he reaches your hips, he doesn’t pull off your underwear all at once. Rather, he slides the fabric down centimeter by centimeter, kissing the revealed skin like it’s precious. 

This time you don’t need to be told to lift your hips. He helps you slip the final piece of clothing down and off of your legs, flinging it somewhere blindly before getting comfortable between your thighs once more. Your heart pounds with arousal and anxiety as his arms wrap around your thighs and his hands rub up and down the tops of them slowly. 

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, loosening his hold on one leg to thumb at your folds. They glisten in the dim light of his bedroom as he gently reveals your clit. A soft whine escapes you when he nudges at the aching bud, slipping over it a few times and alleviating a bit of the pressure that’s been building. “Shh, baby. I know. I’m gonna take care of it. You’re being so good for me.”

Fuck. The way he talks to you makes your brain turn to mush—you’re utterly incapable of forming an intelligent thought. Spencer has rendered you a complete idiot, and you’re not upset about it in the slightest. 

He presses more gentle kisses to the creases between your thighs, just above your clit—everywhere except for where you need him most. Everything aches for him in the best way and at least you’re too turned on to be very insecure anymore. All you want is relief. But you’re trusting him. 

Thankfully, he delivers. 

The tip of his tongue grazes so lightly over your clit that if you weren’t this worked up you may not have felt it at all. In your current state, however, the stimulation echoes through every atom of your being. Every muscle is tense, frozen in place—you can’t even breathe for a second. He does it again, a little flatter, with a little more pressure, and you whimper. It’s a delicate thing, almost pained and definitely overwhelmed as he gently begins working his tongue against you. Your head cranes up to watch, your jaw drops. Approximations of curse words try to form, but come out only as, “f-fu—oh,” so whiny and soft it doesn’t even sound like you. He hums sympathetically, but you suspect it morphs into a chuckle as you continue to gasp and mewl. 

There are times where you can hold back sounds of pleasure. When you’re by yourself, it’s typically not a problem. Two weeks ago when Spencer was knuckle deep in you for the first time, it had certainly been a challenge, and you’d pretty much given up. But this—this is something else entirely. It feels like religion. It feels like compulsion. Even if you had the slightest modicum of control over yourself, which you currently don’t, you wouldn’t want to keep quiet. You want him to know what he’s doing to you. 

So you let every cry, every whine and whimper drag from your lungs, unbidden and unshaped. You’re new at this, after all—every broad lick feels so good that you have no fucking idea what do to with your hands or how to stop rolling your hips or how to censor your sounds. 

“Spencer,” you keen in one of the moments you remember to breathe. He moans against you, taking you into his mouth and sucking lightly. Your hips buck. “Oh, my—fuck!”

The hand that’s still around your thigh rubs soothing lines up and down. The one that’s spreading you open pulls your folds apart a little bit further, granting him more access to your clit. He flicks his tongue and you almost come then and there, vision going gray for a split second. 

“Wait, wait, Spence—“ you squeak, writhing and trying not to squeeze your thighs together for fear of hurting him. He pulls back and looks up at you, lips shining with your slick and eyes glazed with lust. Fuckfuckfuck he looks so fucking good. “Please, just… slow down, or I’m gonna… or it’s gonna be over.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he rubs circles into your inner thigh. 

“It’s over when you say it’s over. You don’t have a refractory period. We don’t have to stop at one.”

“Oh—you don’t—you don’t have to do that,” you stammer. 

“I know I don’t have to. But if you want me to, I want to. You taste so good, angel girl.”

Well, shit. 

He looks absurdly sexy between your legs like this. You have no idea how you got so lucky, but you don’t plan on taking it for granted. Your fingers tangle in his hair. 

“I don’t know if I can do more than one,” you admit shyly, slightly embarrassed by how little you know about yourself and in general compared to Spencer. Hazel eyes sparkle in the warm light. 

“How about we start with one and see how it feels?”

Your voice is breathy when you respond, “okay,” already impatient for him to get back to it. Spencer seems just as eager, immediately kissing between your legs with a passion that makes your lips jealous. 

The flat of his tongue presses circles against you and your hips buck, already ramping up to that point you’d been at before calling a time-out. Slowly his fingers find their way to your entrance and he teases you with them, dipping in to the first knuckle before withdrawing again. If you could form words, you’d beg him to just do it already, but all you can manage is an affronted whine as you tilt your hips down, hoping he catches the meaning. 

Of course he does—pushing two fingers inside you at once. The intrusive stretch adds a sharp edge to the pleasure, makes it more interesting, as your brain short-circuits and you choke out a moan. It only takes a few slow pumps of his fingers in tandem with the pressure of his tongue until your hips are writhing and you’re and mewling desperately, more overwhelmed with pleasure than you’ve ever been. You push his hair back, able to see him for the first time, and fully appreciate the hollow of his cheeks, the way he looks up at you with perfect, glassy half-lidded eyes, the rhythm of his hand and tongue—he takes your clit between his lips once more, sucking lightly, and you’re done for. A pornographic sob escapes from deep within you as you come, but he doesn’t stop. The orgasm lasts longer than you knew one could—although, it’s only your second time, so you don’t exactly have a lot of data to go off of. Your entire body feels warm and floaty, and what he’s doing feels so good you want him even deeper—but you know he won’t give you that yet. Instead you focus on the slow burn of your orgasm, allowing him to carry on for a while until you begin slowly drifting back to earth and it becomes a bit too much. He recognizes the barely-there whine for what it is and pulls his fingers from you carefully, pressing one final kiss to your clit that makes your legs twitch and summons a weak little moan. 

Spencer’s lips find other avenues, over the delicate skin of your thighs and hips and stomach as he slowly drags himself up again. By the time you’re face to face again you’re still breathing hard. You sort of feel like prey underneath his weight, studied so scrupulously, known far more intimately by him than anyone has ever known you before. But there is so much light and kindness in the way he looks at you that you almost can’t make sense of it. 

Maybe it’s possible to be known and still wanted. The possibility spins like a coin on its edge in your mind. An idea you spent so much time trying to nurture and is only just now beginning to sprout. Maybe someone could see you at your most vulnerable, and still find you worthy of kindness. Appreciation. Affection. 

Spencer certainly could, it seems, as he ducks down to kiss you. You dodge it, turning your head demurely. He nudges his head against yours, speaking so, so softly, utterly cloying as he teases, “what? You’re not gonna kiss me now? Is that how it is?”

“No!” you balk, equally as quiet and especially bashful. “Not when you… no.”

“Let me kiss you,” he pleads, so earnestly you turn your head back to face him. His big eyes are hazy, reflecting all the warmth and dizziness you feel. “Let me kiss you. Please.”

You whine.

“I don’t wanna… taste… myself.”

Spencer doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Hm. We’ll need to work on that. Because one day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.”

Something flickers in your core. 

Suddenly you’re not so squeamish. You really want him to kiss you now. But it seems he’s going to have his fun, first. 

“Open.” Without even thinking about it, your lips part. He really ought to be careful with what he tells you to do—you’re all too compliant. Even as his fingers slip between your lips, you’re obediently hollowing your cheeks around them, watching him with big eyes as his own mouth falls slightly open. “Oh, baby,” he croons. “What are we gonna do with you?”

That flicker has returned to a full-fledged throbbing once you open your mouth again, slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen. 

“Can you make me come again right now?” you whisper, grasping lightly at his shirt. He grins like he loves the idea—and you let him have his way, accepting his lips on yours with no complaint. After a few moments, (the taste is surprisingly unobtrusive), he pulls away.

“I would love to.”

-

part three

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut

[kookslastbutton]

what love feels like ༓ myg (m)

✑ Summary: Being a mother to a beautiful baby girl and wife to an adoring husband is the most rewarding feeling in the world. But you also work a full-time job, are overtired most of the time, stressed, don't have any alone time, look very different than eight years ago, and sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs on you until one day, all of your deepest insecurities rear their ugly head–that your husband might not love you as much anymore and someone could take him away from you.

Pairing: husband!yoongi x reader

AU/genre: angst, fluff, smut, marriage au

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 6.7k+

Warnings: swearing, both Yoongi and oc are in their 30s, mom and full-time worker!oc, reserved!dad!yoongi, lack of intimacy, mentions of body insecurities post-pregnancy, mentions of fear of abandonment, mentions of jealousy. irrational worries, built-up stress, light fighting, silent treatment, stubbornness, lots of reassurance, nightmares, cute backstory of how they met, a lot of ily, Yoongi and oc being good parents 🥹, Yoongi calls oc doll, and explicit sexual content

sexual warnings: swearing, kissing, neck kisses, pleading, banter, dirty talk, doll petname, asking for consent, b**b squeezing & sucking, hair threading, penetration, f*ngering, big d*ck!yoongi, growling, missi*nary, eye contact, tearing up, c*ming together

Now Playing: Breathing by Anne Marie

a/n: Okay this was for Yoon's bday. Based on the poll, husband!Yoon won. Was intended to be a Drabble but well...heh 😅 Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this fic and Yoon is just such a good hubby for responding well to these very relatable insecurities. (Low-key love this couple...) I'm sorry for any typos or warnings i missed! I checked and double checked but a few might have slipped. Enjoy! Anyway please enjoy! 🥰

“So, you're Jia's father, huh? I don’t think I've seen you here before, and I’m sure I would have recognized you.”

With his back straight and arms folded, Yoongi gives the woman in front of him a quick once-over. Mid-40s, freshly single, and definitely in need of some companionship. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out; she’s been talking his ear off for the past twenty minutes like he’s some kind of remedy to all her problems.

Honestly, he just swung by to pick up his four-year-old from daycare after another grueling day at work. But the moment he walked in, it was as if all the single moms latched onto him like a flock of hungry geese. This one’s name is Sandra in particular.

It reminds him of his college basketball days, how the cheerleaders all too eagerly swarmed around him after sinking the winning shot at the championship game. Shame he was too busy eyeing the girl in the stands to care, her face buried behind a book twice as big as her head. Who reads an 800-page novel during the playoffs anyway?

Fate, as one may call it, intervened about a week later when his best friend became said girl’s lab partner. Yoongi didn’t make any sudden moves at first, but well, he did make her his wife three years later.

“It’s just so nice to finally meet the father of such a sweet child. Especially considering how many dads tend to take a backseat in their child's early years.” Is she still going on? Yoongi does his best to stay present, though it’s proving unsuccessful. “And Jia truly is an angel! It’s clear you’re doing a wonderful job raising her, even with a full-time job and all.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows knit together at the somewhat odd choice of words. “Thanks,” he drawls out, noticing her pupils dilating with every breath. “Most of the credit goes to my wife though. She’s a great mom to Jia.”

“Jia’s m-mom?” Sandra stutters, her mouth slightly agape. Yoongi senses the gears turning in her head as she struggles to process the unexpected presence of his wife. Tempting as it is, he holds down a smirk. Of course, he’s a happily married man–for nearly eight years now.

“Yeah,” he replies simply. “She’s usually the one to pick up our daughter from daycare, but she’s been working a lot of overtime lately. I thought I'd come instead so she can get some rest."

“Oh, well that’s very–“

“Daddy! Daddy, you’re here!” The sound of a familiar high-pitched voice, along with a light pattering of feet, diverts both adult’s attention.

“Hey kid.” Yoongi effortlessly lifts the small child once in front of him, securing her in his arms. “Have fun today?”

Jia gives an enthusiastic nod, bright red ribbons in her hair bouncing cutely as she does. Proudly, she shows him the drawing she made.

“See? It’s me, you, and mommy!” She makes sure to point to each part of the picture with her pointer finger.

Yoongi gently takes the artwork from his daughter’s hand and lets out a soft chuckle. “Now this is what I call a masterpiece! Mommy’s gonna love hanging this one on the fridge. How about I hold onto this and you go grab your backpack, okay?”

As soon as Jia’s feet touch the carpeted floor again, she races off to her cubby in the far corner of the room. Yoongi shoots Sandra a final glance before slowly following behind. “We got to get going, but nice meeting you.”

“You…too.” Sandra’s response is more than disappointed as she watches the father-daughter duo make their way out of the building. Evidently, Min Yoongi isn’t the single dad she originally assumed. Funny, she swore there wasn’t a wedding band in sight. Maybe she missed it.

“No, I’m sorry but I’m certain we haven’t used any of your services in the last six months. My husband canceled it in late October.”

With one hand, you grip your cell phone up to an ear while the other pops open the dishwasher. You’ve been on the phone with the cable company for half an hour, trying to make sense of an unexpected charge that appeared on your bank account this morning. You consider yourself more patient than most, yet after working all day, a pile of laundry waiting to be washed, and dinner threatening to burn on the stove, the last thing you have time for is arguing with your old service provider.

“I understand, ma’am, and I apologize for any confusion. I’m taking a look at my records and they’re all showing me that—oh wait a second.”

The young man on the opposite end of the line interrupts his own thought, piquing your concern in the process.

“What did you say your last name is?”

You answer and in an instant, you’re met with a thousand rushed apologies; something about getting the account names mixed up in their system. It’s difficult to decipher everything you hear with the front door being thrust open that very moment.

“Mommy, where are you? We’re home!” Your daughter not so subtly announces her presence from the foyer. She kicks off her shoes, hangs her backpack on the designated wall hook, and then rushes to the kitchen upon catching a brief glimpse of your shirt.

“It’s alright, these mistakes happen.” You hang up the call and turn around to find Jia only steps away, a big goofy grin on her face. Infectious, you break out into a smile yourself and swoop her up.

“Hey honey, I missed you so much!” You kiss the side of your daughter’s head as she wraps her small arms around your neck. “You look so pretty with all these ribbons in your hair! Daddy did a good job, didn’t he?”

Being that you were called into work earlier than usual this morning, Yoongi was the one who got Jia dressed and ready for daycare. You’re delightfully surprised by the results.

“Mmhm,” Jia nods, twirling a couple of strands of hair between her thumb and forefinger. “But Daddy pulls too much!”

“Maybe if someone had listened and stopped fussing when I told her, I wouldn’t have accidentally yanked on her hair when I was reaching for her favorite Hello Kitty scrunchie.” Yoongi joins you both in the kitchen, walking over to press a quick peck on your lips while tenderly caressing the small of your back. The gesture soothes you of your earlier frustrations. “Who was that on the phone? Cable company?”

“Yeah, they canceled the charge. Wrong account.” As you reiterate the entire mix-up, your eyes wander all over your husband. He’s especially handsome tonight, given his perfectly tousled black hair and navy blue blazer flowing over his body. It’s tastefully oversized with a clean, white top paired underneath. You, on the other hand, are sporting a raggedy old t-shirt and stained sweatpants.

There was a time when you used to put a shit ton more effort into your appearance. It was before you got pregnant with Jia, back when you and Yoongi were going out on weekly dates. Neither of you has that kind of time anymore, or energy for that matter. You didn’t believe the other moms when they told you the romance takes a nose dive after you have your first kid. Yet here you are, proven wrong again.

Being parents to a beautiful baby girl is likely the most rewarding feeling in the world for you and Yoongi. You don’t remember the last time the two of you got real quality alone time though. And sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs more on you with each passing day to be honest. Sure, you’re not the same person you used to be eight years ago, but shouldn’t you and Yoongi still make time for at least a little intimacy?

“How was picking up Jia by the way?” You look at Yoongi who merely shrugs nonchalantly in response.

“It was fine. Nothing too out of the ordinary,” Yoong gives you another peck before heading up the stairs to your bedroom. “I’m gonna go get changed. Why don’t you show Mommy the drawing you did Jia?”

“A drawing?” You shift your attention to your daughter whose eyes sparkle like diamonds upon mention. “We should put it up on the fridge then. Let’s take a look hmm?”

“It’s in my backpack! My new friend and I were drawing together. Her name is Mi-Sun.” Jia continues telling you all about her friend Mi-Sun as you make your way to the front door where her backpack hangs. You’re fully engaged until the very end. “Daddy made a new friend too!” she joyously claps her hands together, not realizing the depth of her remark.

“Oh, who’s Daddy’s new friend honey?” You ask, staying as calm as possible.

“Ms. Cho! They were talking for a really long time today.”

Ms. Cho? You think back to all the moms you’ve met at daycare. Somehow you can’t recall ever hearing or meeting a Ms. Cho. She must be a single mom, you deduce. Was she new? What did she look like? And why didn’t Yoongi mention her when you asked?

This has to be nothing but a little small talk, an acquaintance at most. Besides, the moms at Jia’s daycare are quite a chatty bunch and Yoongi wouldn’t dare overstep any boundaries.

“Do you know what they were talking about?” You don’t enjoy asking your child for details about your husband, yet you can’t seem to help it this time.

“I dunno,” she shrugs her shoulders. "Daddy was laughing a lot."

Suddenly, the self-assurance you gave yourself earlier slips away; seemingly useless given the queasy feeling building in the pit of your stomach.

For the remainder of the night, you purposely dodge every attempt your husband makes to kiss, touch, and hold you. You’ve even begun responding to his questions in one-word answers and at times, with nothing at all.

Yes, you’re being petty; more than usual. The silent treatment frustrates Yoongi to no end and it isn’t very mature of you, but neither is refusing to tell your wife that some single mom was flirting with you in front of your kid! Okay, so maybe that's an exaggeration. Maybe it all sums up to a harmless conversation, but it’s not like you know either way with Yoongi being as reserved as he is. It brings you back to your early dating days when he wouldn’t think to tell you about various aspects of his day; who he ate breakfast with that morning or the one classmate of his that wouldn’t leave him alone for two semesters.

Truth be told, you're simply hoping that your husband will bring up the topic first, without having to be the classic nagging wife. You’re a jealous person by nature so it’s not a simple task. Even now as you fold the first batch of laundry on your shared bed, him on the other side doing the same, you struggle to keep from blurting everything out.

“So,” Yoongi fluffs up a clean pillowcase before sliding it onto one of the bed pillows. “How was work?”

What a basic question, you grumble internally. Is that all he’s got? “Was okay,” you reply. “The usual.”

“You must be tired from the day. Did you get to lie down at all?” Yoongi picks up another pillowcase, repeating the process as before. When he glances your way, it’s clear something’s on your mind. You’ve started pairing Jia’s socks far more aggressively than normal and you’re holding back your responses. “Did you hear me, doll? Or am I going deaf here?” The sarcastic chuckle distracts you from your task, forcing your attention.

You’re about to respond when your eyes briefly flicker down to his hands, his left one in particular. Where's his wedding ring? Yoongi always wears it no matter what. The same sick feeling from before returns tenfold. No wonder that Ms. Cho was all over him–she must have thought he was single.

“No, I didn’t get to lie down Yoongi. I worked all day, came home and made dinner, called the cable guy to get that stupid bill figured out, and now I’m doing the second load of laundry. I’m really just not in the mood to chat.” It comes out a blur as you snatch the empty laundry basket and head for your washer and dryer, your eyes welling up with tears.

“__, wait.” Yoongi tosses the last pillow near the headboard and stops you in your tracks, his hand firmly gripping one end of the laundry basket. The intensity of his stare softens as he speaks. “I'm sorry if it seems like I'm forcing you to talk. I know you've been losing a lot of sleep recently between work, Jia, and upkeeping the house. We just don't get a lot of time to see each other anymore and I miss you…I miss talking to you."

With every ounce of self-control remaining, you hold back any tears that risk spilling out. You don't know why you're acting like this, why you're crying over something that seems so small and insignificant to the rest of the world. Yoongi loves you. He's said it a million times and proven it to you over and over again, for eight years now. He wouldn’t cheat on you, yet you still get so worked up about the idea that someone could take him away from you. Someone half your age, more attractive, or hell even the opposite sex if it means fewer dark circles under their eyes.

"Why- why aren't you wearing your ring?" Your naturally confident voice dwindles to the whisper of a mouse. It's completely out of character, nevertheless, here you are.

"I..." Your husband's voice wavers. His gaze flickers to his left hand, where his ring should be, but isn't. "Shit...I took it off in the shower this morning," he confesses, frustrated by his forgetfulness. "I was in such a rush to get Jia to daycare, and me to work, that it completely slipped my mind. I'm sorry—I fully intended to put it back on." He pauses, then perks up. "It's still in the bathroom. I'll be right back, okay?"

You watch as he makes a beeline for the master bathroom, eager to rectify the situation as soon as possible. You should have kept silent what you say next, but you don't.

"No wonder the moms at Jia's daycare were so drawn to you."

"What?" Yoongi stops in his tracks. The dumbfounded expression on his face tells you that you've caught him off guard again.

"Jia told me about someone named Ms. Cho," you reluctantly continue. "The two of you were laughing and talking and–"

"Baby, don't worry about that." Seizing his chance, your husband walks back over to you and sneakily pulls the laundry basket from under your arm. He sets it on the ground after, then reaches to take your hand in his, but stubbornly you cross your arms.

"Her name's Sandra," he starts explaining. "She's a new mom at the daycare and she didn't know anyone, so she started talking to me. I got the sense she was a little overly friendly but it was all small talk, nothing more."

Still largely unsatisfied, you remain unmoved. "If it wasn't a big deal then why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Because nothing serious happened. The majority of the conversation was her venting about her ex-husband and me wishing you were right there next to me. Please believe me. All I could think about was finally being able to come home to you after a long week with Jia in our arms."

"Really?" Well, now you're feeling guilty for avoiding him in nearly every way tonight. Guilty for believing such wild assumptions that he'd leave you for someone else over one measly conversation. Guilty for letting yourself get so worked up over a situation you, quite frankly, knew few details about.

"I mean it doll." This time, when he reaches out to grasp your wrist, he succeeds. He intertwines his fingers with yours and leads you to the edge of your bed, gently pulling you down to sit on his lap. "Do you really think I could look at anyone else the way I look at you? Or think about you the way I have for the last eight-plus years we've been married and known each other?"

You hesitate your answer, averting his eye contact. "I know but…"

"No, don't finish that. Look at me," he intercepts. "You and our daughter are the only women on my mind–24/7. I can't get either of you out of my head and I don't want to. I'm so sorry I forgot to put my wedding band back on this morning, and again tonight. I feel awful about it and I'll be more careful from now on. And another thing, when Sandra and I were talking I mentioned you multiple times. So, it's clear to her that I'm a happily married man."

The last bit of information manages to perk your ears. "You talked about me?" Your eyes widen as you finally shift your full attention to him. Yoongi eyes widen with you, amused by your sudden change of heart to look at him.

"I said my wife is an amazing mother, works too hard for her own good, and needed to rest today. Give or take a few words."

That's all? You huff to yourself. Would it been nice if your husband also thrown in that you were beautiful or stunning in that mix of compliments? Yes, yes it would have–again, you're pettiness clouds your better judgment. You're not as pissed off as before, but rather semi-irritated.

"Okay…well I guess it's fine then. I'm sorry for being short with you earlier. I shouldn't have made those rash conclusions about the ring and that woman from the daycare. It wasn't reasonable of me." You get up from his lap, yet Yoongi isn't entirely convinced that you're okay.

"There's still something you're not telling me. I can tell."

"No, there's nothing else." You waive him off, placing your hand on your bedroom doorknob "You told her you had a wife so it's fine. I need to switch the second load of laundry.”

"Come on, doll. Let's not leave things unsaid now."

Sighing at his plead, you find yourself giving into all your repressed thoughts and emotions. It swallows you up, like a tidal wave you can't stop. "Look at me Yoon. I'm sweaty, I have dark circles under my eyes, stretch marks, love handles, my hair's a mess, and all I wear are old sweats covered in stains. I'm nothing like I used to be! No wonder we aren't intimate anymore."

Yoongi rises from the bed at once, offended by the sudden digression. "Is that what this is all about? It’s not even about that single mom from daycare is it?" The truth of the matter sinks in as he speaks.

"I guess maybe so…though I'm still annoyed about that too." Great, you're back to square one again.

"Come with me, I need to show you something." Your husband gestures you to follow him, which you slowly concede to.

"What are you doing Yoon?" You both walk into the master bathroom, stopping in front of the large mirror above the sink.

"I'm showing you the woman I'm in love with and have been in love with for nearly eight years now. Sweats and all." Yoongi makes you face the mirror directly, hands around your shoulders. You have trouble stomaching the sight.

"Yoongi please, I can't. The laundry ringing off." You avoid looking into the mirror and make a move to leave the bathroom.

"Just stay with me a minute, please?" Your husband refuses to loosen his hold on you, turning your body so you're looking eye to eye. "No, you're not the same person as you were and neither am I. We're parents to a beautiful daughter now, who we love and adore. We're also overtired 90% of the time, juggling a million things at once. But there's one thing you can count on to always stay the same–my loyalty to you. I'll always be in love with you __, no matter what age you are or however way you look. There's nothing you can do to change that, so why fight it?"

Dammit. A single tear rolls down your cheek as you take in his heart-melting speech. It's not his words alone, it's the sincerity behind them. How he's repeated similar countless times before throughout your entire relationship.

"I love you, Yoon..." you choke out the words, composure fleeting.

"I love you so much, doll." He wipes the wetness of your tear with his thumb. "As far as us not being as intimate anymore, that's my fault. I don't ever want you to feel like I don't desire you every day. Why don't we send the kid to my parents this weekend and let me start making things right hmm?"

"I don't know if we can this weekend. Jia has a playdate on Saturday."

"So, I'll ask Mom to take her. She'll be happy to, trust me. We can finally watch that movie you've been dying to show me since what? December?"

"You're serious?" Your eyes light up at the mention of what is essentially a movie date. The show Yoongi's referring to is one you've been craving to see for months, yet neither of you has found the time to watch. "I've been talking about it for so long, Yoon."

"I know you have, it's why I suggested it. I've been wanting to watch it too with all the trailers you keep sending me. Plus, I'll be able to keep my beautiful wife in my arms for over two hours. That's a lot for us, especially with you being such a busy bee. I can never get you to light in one place! What's up with that, huh?"

Feeling your natural self re-emerging, you throw a playful swat to his arm and scowl at his teasing comment. "You're one to talk! You're basically a workaholic! Besides, you knew who you were marrying when you met me."

Yoongi chuckles and brings both hands to cup your cheeks, squishing them slightly. "A cutie who reads 800-page novels at a basketball game?"

"Stop babying me!" You pull his hands off your cheeks and rub them, trying to regain some composure. "I don't regret my choices, I like books. It's why I'm such a boss at work!"

"Okay, boss," he laughs. "What about what I suggested before then? I can call Mom tomorrow and ask her if she could watch Jia for the day. She'll take her to her playdate, then they can spend the rest of the day together."

It does sound nice, having the whole day with your husband.

"Okay," you agree. "Let's try."

"Good." Yoongi slides his hands down to your hips and pulls you flush against his chest. "How about we seal it with a kiss now?" You nod and he leans his head down, pressing an amazing, tender kiss to your lips. It makes you both giddy on queue.

"Read one more story, Daddy!" Jia leaps off her small, twin bed and bounds for her bookshelf. She lets out a series of giggles when a large pair of hands catch her, lifting her high into the air.

"I already read you three books kid," Yoongi says, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Bedtime." He then tucks her into her fluffy comforter, plugs in her teddy bear nightlight, and closes her bedroom door.

The next second, Jia comes running out of her room, latching onto his right leg. "I don't wanna go to bed. I wanna play!" Figures she'd be hyper at this hour.

Yoongi sighs and picks her up. "Daddy told you to go to sleep, it's not playtime. You'll have lots of time for that tomorrow when you get to see your friend." He then carries her into her room, yet she fusses in his arms; thumping her tiny fists into his chest.

"No, no, no, Daddy. I want to play!"

Sighing, Yoongi looks at his child with sharp eyes. "Jia–"

"Hey," you interrupt, entering your daughter's bedroom upon hearing the commotion down the hall. "What's going on?"

"Kid doesn't want to go to bed."

You give an empathetic look and saunter over to the pair, gently taking Jia into your arms. Yoongi places his hands on his hips as he watches you reason with your daughter.

"Jia, you know tomorrow's a big day right? You and Sana are going to go to the playground together." The child nods. "You don't want to be tired when you're playing do you?"

"No..." She shakes her head. "I want to be awake!"

"Then you need to listen to Daddy and go to sleep. That way you'll be full of energy tomorrow when you and Sana go on the swings or slide down all the big slides." You smile as Jia starts rubbing her drowsy eyes, yawning in the process.

"But I...okay," she slowly concedes, eyes fluttering shut as she gives into her sleepy state. Unsurprising to you and Yoongi, she was tired all along. But like most kids, hated going to bed.

"See?" You lay Jia in her bed and pull the covers up near her chin, giving her a light kiss on the side of her head. Yoongi bends down and does the same after you. "You just gotta talk to her a little, she'll typically fall asleep on her own."

"But I read her three of her favorite books." Yoongi shuts off the overhead light, along with the door to Jia's room, and follows you to your bedroom.

"That's different Yoon," you argue back. "Books excite her."

"She takes after you that way then." Yoongi pulls his t-shirt off, leaving him bare-chested, and climbs onto his side of the bed. You join him shortly after with your head resting on his chest and an arm thrown around his waist.

"I'm so exhausted," you yawn.

"Go to sleep, baby. I'm right here." Your husband places a hand over your wrapped arm, sending you off into a deep slumber.

Well this is just ironic. Almost 2 A.M. and you're wide awake.

What initially started as a nice, relaxing dream quickly turned into a terrible nightmare. In the dream, you woke up alone. Yoongi was gone. Jia was gone too. You can't exactly make sense of it, except for a vague memory of Jia calling another woman 'Mom'. You couldn't see her face very well, so it could've been anyone. You couldn't speak either, so even when you tried approaching the three, they couldn't hear you. You've had nightmares plenty of times, but this one is new. It's a clear projection of all the underlying concerns upheaved from earlier; insecurities, abandonment, loss, and it has you unsettled.

You glance over to your husband's side of the bed. He's fast asleep, no longer cuddling you due to you both flip-flopping in your sleep. You decide to slide closer to him, needing to watch him for a while. It might sound weird, but you love watching him sleep. He's so handsome and you feel a great deal of comfort doing so. Maybe if he was awake, you'd tell him about what you dreamt. Then again...maybe not.

"I love you Yoon," you whisper as quietly as you can, tracing his every facial feature with your eyes.

"'m, I love you too."

Is he-was he awake? As if caught red-handed, you quickly flit your face away in favor of the blank ceiling above. You weren't expecting him to answer at all, and in such a hoarse voice too. You're a little turned on by it to be honest.

"Can't sleep?" he speaks up again, eyes still closed.

"No, I''ll be okay though. You can go back to sleep. Don't worry."

He grunts, a tad unhappy with your dismissal of him. "Do you want to talk about it? Your dream?"

You whip your head in his direction. "How–" You pause, seeing his eyes blink open.

"I didn't meet you just yesterday, doll. I know they keep you up. Just know, I'm always here okay? Always." He reaches for you with delicate fingers as he continues. "Now, come here. Seems we got separated in our sleep."

You accept the offer and cuddle into him again. This time your noses nearly touch and his arm wraps around your lower waist. You feel the growing urge to kiss him, wanting to forget your nightmare entirely. But perhaps silly, you ask permission first, seeing as he's close to drifting off again.

"Yoon?"

"Mm."

"Can we kiss?" Your cheeks flush a little at the request. Why are you acting like this? You've been married for years.

"Sure, 'm tired but I could go for a make-out right now." A small smirk graces his lips as he teases you. You give him a classic 'Yoongi!' in reply. "I'm kidding. You don't ever have to ask me that," he finishes.

"Hmm, maybe I don't want a kiss anymore." You feign stubbornness, just to see his response. And a response he gives you, more than you're prepared for.

"You're ridiculous," he grumbles, capturing your lips in one fell swoop. He moves his lips against yours as the hand on your waist grips tighter. The tiniest of moans escapes your lips.

You attempt to break the kiss first, thinking it will only last for a few seconds. Yet Yoongi slips a hand behind your neck to bring you into another kiss. One that's deeper than the last. You feel your breath being taken away little by little, especially when his tongue licks into your mouth. God, you haven't kissed like this in an eternity. A wetness soon gathers between your thighs.

"'m, Yoon," you gasp when his cool fingers sneakily make their way under your shirt, tickling your bare skin. They travel the expanse of your waist, stomach, and up along your back. "So cold."

Yoongi pulls away from the kiss and retracts his fingers. He then lazily moves his body until his chest hovers over your own, rolling you on your back in the process. He's a bit of a blur due to the dimness of the room, yet you can see the whites of his eyes a bit better than before.

"Help me warm them then," he says, folding his hands on top of yours from where they rest on your stomach. "You're really burning up, doll."

His observation is right. Ever since you woke up, you're body's been hotter than normal. The stress is clear and it's only increasing due to the unexpected turn of tonight's events; your husband seemingly wanting to make love to you in the middle of the night.

"So I am," you reply, staring straight into his eyes. "Must be because of all the sudden surprises today. My body's finally responding to it all."

Yoongi nods, following your implication. "Well let's do something to calm it down, shall we?" He waits for your final go before making any abrupt movements.

"But...you haven't seen me–"

"Naked in a while?" he predicts your next words, unfazed. "I've seen it all, each time better than the last because I love you. You're beautiful to me, no matter what. Let me love you __. I've missed you. I've missed us."

"Okay...please," you sigh, desperately needing his touch. "It's been so long since we've been this close."

Neither of you has it in you to delay another second as you dive into another fiery kiss, your hands wandering up and down each other's bodies. You love his hair the most, so you run your fingers through it repeatedly. Your husband's soft grunts remind you that it's as pleasurable for him as it is for you, and as if to counter, he latches his lips to the curve of your neck.

"Yoon," you moan, shivering at the feeling of being peppered in open-mouth kisses. Your eyes automatically roll up as well.

Yoongi nips at your jaw next, featherlike, yet deadly to you nevertheless. He doesn't allow himself to linger more than a second, though, preferring to keep you on your toes. So with careful fingers, he begins lifting the bottom of your shirt.

"Can I?"

You hum in approval and lean forward for him to remove it.

With your nipples now exposed to the brisk air, stiffening due to arousal, Yoongi brings both his hands up to caress your boobs. He's incredibly gentle, telling you how beautiful you are once again until his thumbs start circling your peaked nipples. A rush of sensation shoots up your spine as he rolls them harder, flicking them once in a while.

"Fuck," you swear.

"Feeling good?"

All you do is nod fervently in response, which Yoongi takes as his signal to lower his head to your chest. He squeezes both breasts in his hand before wrapping his mouth around a nipple, licking and sucking relentlessly. He repeats the same to the other.

"Yoongi, I need you. Please." You're core tightens, thighs struggling not to rub together, as you plead with your husband to relieve you. You are so wet and getting wetter.

"I'm here, doll, I got you. Fingers first hm?"

He pushes part of the comforter towards the foot of the bed, then gestures for you to raise your butt. Any shred of mystery of how worked up he's gotten you slip away as he pulls your underwear and pants down your legs. They both get tossed on the floor, per usual.

Bare pussy exposed, Yoongi guides your legs further apart and brings a hand down to your entrance. One of his long, slender fingers traces up your folds so smoothly that you buck your hips upon the touch. He smiles lightly at the subtle response, pleased that you're finally enjoying yourself; too often you put your needs last. His finger slowly sinks into your well-lubricated pussy, velvety walls clenching around it.

"Oh, g-god," you give a shaky moan as his finger pumps and curls in you, stimulating your g-spot. "Need you now, Yoon, so bad."

"Mm not yet, we need to stretch you out. You haven't taken me for a good three or four weeks," he smirks at your eagerness, sliding a second finger next to the first. "This pussy is drenched but not enough. I need you to come. Can you do that for me?"

Fast, quick movements follow suit as your husband works you up to an orgasm. Oh fuck, oh fuck, you chant in near whines. Your pussy is spasming around him, walls tightening with each push and pull. You know when he draws his hand out that it's covered with your come. Messy, sex is messy and both of you are too far gone to care; the pleasure sweeping over you.

Finally, in what feels like an endless tease, you have your first orgasm of the night. You feel your body relaxing into the mattress again, yet your breath remains short. Yoongi, on the other hand, groans seeing your release dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. For a split second, there's a slight darkening in his eyes while he takes in your post-orgasmic form. The two fingers that had been inside you are sensually brought to his lips, slipping between the seam before being cleaned off.

You're taken aback by the action, though you've witnessed it before. Something about watching your husband willingly follow through with a gesture so lewd makes your head spin–you want him to fuck you right this instant. He must share the same feeling because you don't even need to sound the words due to his hands already making quick work of his pants.

"You drive me mad, you know that? Can never get a break with how sweet you taste. Your lips, your come. All of it makes me go mad." His full length comes in view, hard and tip leaking with pre-cum. You try not to let yourself stare at the thickness but hell, you must've forgotten the extent of your husband's size. You don't remember it being this big before.

"Well," you gulp. "You're not making it easy on me either, looking like this."

Yoongi climbs over to you again, settling into a straddled position, and looks deep into your eyes. "Who's fault do you think that is?"

"It's your fault." You bend your legs and wrap them around his mid-section. You can feel the tip of his cock tease at your entrance. The anticipation is beyond grueling.

"No," he says, aligning himself up to your weeping hole. "it's yours." He then thrusts his hips forward, his length sinking into you so perfectly it has you completely satisfied.

"Y-Yours," you whimper out, unable to form a steady sentence.

"Fine." He picks up his pace. "Let's just agree we both fuck each other up on a daily---ah fuck!" Yoongi growls and gives you a suspicious look when he feels your pussy suddenly clench around his length.

"I didn't do it on purpose this time! You're fucking me too good is all."

"Really? You're not just teasing me?"

Yoongi is slow to believe since you've purposefully clenched countless times before, simply out of playfulness. Tonight is different than those nights though because you're telling the truth–he's truly fucking you so good.

"What the hell," he concedes. "You feel so fucking fantastic, I don't even care." He continues his movements, thrusting into you with deep groans and labored breaths. His fingers grip the mattress harder with the veins in his neck bulging out.

Both your bodies move in sync as the familiar sound of skin slapping on skin echoes off the walls of your bedroom. You do your best to keep your moans low, not wanting to risk waking up your daughter.

"Yoon, fuck! I need to come, it's gonna-fuck-happen soon," you swear, pussy throbbing at the feeling of being so full after weeks of abstinence. You can tell you're reaching your high with the bundle of nerves in your core threatening to snap at any given moment.

Of course, you're wet too, extremely wet.

"I'm. Nearly. There." He barely sounds the words out, jaw clenching. "Just another minute, and we can finish together."

Your eyes, which haven't left his since he entered you, begin to glass over with tears. It's overwhelming; his love for you. No matter the doubts that tell you the opposite, you can't give in to their ugly lies. You'll continue to struggle, naturally, but you won't ever let them win. Yoongi's never once given up on you, and neither should you.

"I love you, Yoon...I love you with all my soul," you choke the words, falling apart all at once. "I'm sorry for today. How jealous and irrational I got."

"Don't apologize, doll. I shouldn't have let it go so far, our lack of intimacy and alone time. I promise we're going to make it all right okay?"

Giving you one last thrust, you both have your release at the same time. Yoongi helps ride your orgasm out by lazily continuing to grind into you. Yeah, you might need to shower and switch out the sheets after tonight, but you don't regret it one bit.

"In all seriousness baby," Yoongi speaks up, guiding your legs back on the soft mattress until you’re comfortable. "Don't feel like you have to apologize for everything. I understand your feelings and where you were coming from. I will say, the silent treatment kills me though. I'd rather you yell at me than not talk to me at all."

"It's not easy for me to raise my voice like that, Yoon." You throw your arms around his neck and sigh softly. "But I can try talking to you more, or at least tell you I need some time to process before I'm ready to have a conversation. I don't know, am I making sense?"

"Plenty of sense. I'll share more about my day with you and who I'm talking to as well. We'll also carve out time to have together. I love our daughter, but I don't see the harm in reaching out to our friends and family to babysit once in a while."

"Well, this sounds good to me," you hum.

"Me too." Yoongi smiles wide and goes in for another warm kiss. Your eyes flutter shut in unison.

This is what love feels like.

a/n: LMK what you think 🥰

Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts imagine #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts au #fic:whatlovefeelslike #kookslastbutton

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Ex-husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley Drabble

Hi lovelies! Lia here again, I've been quite busy with school so I hope you guys can be a little patient with content since I've been stuck on a slump and there's a lot of things I'm currently busy with at the moment because of school despite posting so much last week. Here's the weekly content and I hope you all enjoy :)

Also how do you all feel if I write works inspired by old gacha songs? And yes I used to be a gacha girly, it was some wild phase AHAHAHA

My CoD Masterlist

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thesnowurzikdjinn @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000

Brainrot, Ex-husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley who decided he wanted to get a divorce with you because things weren't working out between the both of you, so you had to share custody of your daughter.

You managed to get yourself together, having no time to grieve that part of you that he took with him because you had a little one depending on you. You loved that girl for all she was, however she brings you and Simon together.

Not that you resent her for it, god no, it wasn't her fault you and your husband couldn't see eye to eye.. that he refused to retire after everything, maybe it was just your paranoia getting to you. You couldn't stand the fear anymore, the fear of one day he's not the one you'll see when you open the front door but Price.

You forgot how difficult it was doing this on your own until now, you could barely get up, your head was actually killing you. You pushed through, making your daughter breakfast.

You felt like you were about to throw up, ears started to ring and everything else felt numb. The next thing you know was your eyes rolling back and everything going black, the last thing you heard was your toddler panicking, calling you over and over on the verge of crying.

All while you were unconscious, your little one runs to your room to look for your phone to call her dad.

"Listen I know we—" Simon said expecting you on the phone before getting cut off by his daughter..

"Dada! Momma's dead, dada. Momma's not breathing!" In a panic, she cried it out like a mantra. Simon was in a panic, he got up from where he was and was speeding towards what used to be your shared home.

The next thing you know, you were hearing the beeps of a heart monitor. All your senses were working, all except sight.. you didn't have enough energy to open them, in the coldness of your whole body from the well ventilated room, you felt warmth on your hand.

It was all too familiar, calloused but so gentle and warm. Simon.. it was Simon. All while processing this situation, all that's going through Simon's head are the what ifs.

"Fucking hell, help her.. My wife, she's been unconscious for thirty minutes. She's breathing but it's faint and she's burning" Simon almost yelled in a full panic, he was doing his best not to snap at the hospital staff but how couldn't he? Hadn't even realized that he called you something you weren't anymore, the title he took with him.

Your little one holding her dad's hand in the waiting room, she was observant, an emotionally intelligent little girl who holds her dad's hand. Simon keeps reminding himself to calm down, how much his bumblebee must be terrified, far more than he was so he takes her in his arms.

Sooner or later they were allowed to enter, doctor said you were stabilized and only collapsed from a horrid fever and so much fatigue. Thinking of losing you, just like that with no warning would be the second time Simon would lose you.

Now watching you unconscious, IV tube connected to you because of course you haven't been eating well either. It made him rethink everything, was it a mistake to give you those papers? Was it worth it losing the one person in his life who he would give his life for with no hesitation?

All he could do for now was sit next to you, no matter how long it takes for you to wake up because he doesn't have the strength to leave, maybe in a day or two but not now..

Part 2 anyone?

#cod x reader #aethelwyne lia writes #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod headcanons #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x plus size reader #simon riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x you #ghost x plus size reader #ghost x female reader #ghost x y/n

[buckyalpine]

Soft subby reader jealous stroking bucky

CEO Bucky x Jealous Secretary reader - slutty thot - making dom Bucky a needy slut for you.

Imagine being the soft, quiet little secretary of the very handsome James Barnes. What started off as a professional relationship quickly turned into something else once the sun had set and everyone left the office. No one know about the way he love the toy with your body to his liking, about how well you responded to him once the doors were locked.

James Barnes who had to stuff his tie in your mouth to keep your moans quiet, shoving his fingers deep down your throat while he railed you with his cock. His warm tongue would lick up your tears while you milked him dry with your needy, tight cunt. No one would ever guess such a shy little quiet thing would be a cockdrunk bunny on the inside, practically humping yourself on his thigh once his meetings were over, drooling and nursing off his cock under his desk when he was on calls.

****

You took another long sip from your drink, watching a red head trace a long, sharp manicured nail up Bucky's chest, giving him a flirty smile which he smirked back to. She was a prospective investor, one of the few people on the VIP list in attendance for the yearly company gala. Bucky threw her a charming laugh, clinking his glass with hers to something she said, the red head now resting her hand higher, stroking the expensive fabric of his suit.

This was the James Barnes who would pick you up from your desk and throw you over his shoulder when things didn't go his way, fucking his frustrations out with his hand slapped over your mouth, jaw clenched with his heavy balls slapping your clit with each thrust. James Barnes who would fill you up with so much cum, it would drip and make a mess on your skirt, making it impossible to stand up once he plopped you back onto your chair. James Barnes who loves what a secret little slut his secretary is. Such a quiet, sweet kitten who was too innocent for her own good.

The very James Barnes everyone wants and he damn well knows it.

And loves it.

So here he was, biting his lip and cocking his brow suggestively while the woman stood tall with poise, leaning over to whisper in his ear, making your cheeks grow hotter with each passing minute. You weren't aware making business deals with new partners involved wanting to eye fuck them in the process.

You downed another glass of bitter liquid, no longer able to ignore the surges of jealously that pulsed through you. You had no business being jealous or possessive but you couldn't help it, seeing him pull the same charm he used with you, even if the context was different. You missed the way his eyes glanced over to you each time you looked away; he grinned on the inside with the soft flare of your nostrils and the clench of your jaw.

The last straw for you was when he whispered something in her ear, her eyes growing wide in response, a crimson flush covering her face.

"Sir" You strode over, rolling your shoulders back, ignoring the woman, only keeping your eyes on him, "There's a call for you in the office, its urgent"

It was clearly a lie, he knew it, as did you but you didn't care. Bucky smirked at you, cocking his head to the side curiously while you continued to stare at him, waiting for him to follow you. The woman coughed, hoping to break the tension between you both, unamused at the way Bucky's attention was completely on you.

"Aren't you the secretary, shouldn't you cover the calls-

You didn't bother letting her finish, slipping your hand into Bucky's and pulling him away towards the large elevators, the brunette letting you take him wherever you so well pleased, curious about what you'd do. You were just a soft little bunny.

"What is it kitten" Bucky smirked at the scowl that tugged your lips.

"I didn't know your business ventures required flirting with new partners" you kept your voice steady, fighting against the alcohol that was coursing through your body.

"Are you jealous" he smirked, letting you drag him away from the crowd, shoving him into the elevator.

"What's there to be jealous of" you shot back, the fire in your belly growing stronger the more he taunted you. Bucky's cock grew harder and the change of your demeanor, your possessiveness making his tip weep.

"No need to be angry bunny, look at you acting so needy" Bucky tsked while the elevator doors opened to the top floor. The grip you had on his hand tightened as you both went into his large office which overlooked New York. You clicked, while he leaned against the doors with a cocky smile, arms crossed against his chest. His cockiness took a hit when you glanced down at the way his length strained against the fabric of his pants, just as needy as you were, if not more.

"You were acting like a whore, sir" You shrugged while letting your finger trace over the outline of his erection, pressing where the tip leaked through his slacks.

"Don't tease m-

"Please" You caught him off guard, grabbing his tie and tightening it around his neck just enough to make his breaths heavier, "Now tell me what you want"

"Play with my cock" Bucky swallowed thickly, his control slipping when you unbuckled his pants, his cock springing free, begging to be touched. You took a step back, humming at the sight of him; not a single wrinkle on his pristine suit, not a hair out of place, his beard trimmed, lustful eyes boring back at you. He looked so pretty with his cock out, waiting for you to do something, his dominant side faltering in confusion.

"Why don't you ask her to play with it, sir" you cocked your head to the side like he did, waiting for him to answer, his cheeks flushing. "Hm?"

"Want you to play with it" His voice was a whisper pushing his hips forward, showing you exactly where he needed you.

"You want me to play with your cock baby, it that it?" You cooed, tapping the tip with your index finger and pulling away slowly, letting the string of precum stretch before popping your finger into your mouth. "You're so wet" You hummed at his taste, stating the words he'd always throw at you before tracing circles onto his sensitive head again, smearing his arousal around without actually stroking him.

"Fuck" Bucky hissed, nearly slumping again the door while you teased him, biting back the moans that were lodged in the back of his throat. You wrapped your hand around his thick length without actually moving, squeezing the base of his cock.

"What is it kitten" you sneered, mimicking his words from earlier, smirking at the way his cock throbbed in your hand in response. "Look at you" you whispered, "Oh sweet boy" You cooed again, this time moving your hand to cup his full, heavy balls, rolling them in your palm, "They've so heavy, does it hurt?"

"Hurts so bad" He moaned when you tugged them and squeezed them while nipping his neck. You lazily wrapped around his length again, giving him long languid strokes, watching his face twist with desperation for more. Bucky felt like a teenage boy, thrusting into your hand, struggling not to blow while you continued to jerk his cock, his hips rolling to fuck your fist. He felt like he'd never been touched before, this being the first time someone had ever taken control over him and it was something else, especially when it was you.

"Mmmph" He whined, confused and aroused at the same time, desperate for more of your delicious torture, his dom side slipping even more. He tried to regain his bearings, standing straight up again, sucking in a breath, "So jealous-

"So desperate" You tutted, smacking his cheek for opening his mouth while rubbing and stroking his shaft, ignoring his tip completely.

"C'mon bunny, touch me" He was breathless, chasing your hand each time he got close to getting the tip into your palm, groaning when you moved away.

"I am touching you, aren't' I?"

God, he loved you like this.

"The tip- please, need you there, c'mon, please"

A wicked idea sparked in your mind, pulling him by his tie to stand in front of the floor to ceiling high windows that overlooked the city. The same windows he'd fucked you against countless of times, letting the world see you fall apart. Now it was your turn.

Bucky could feel his heart hammer against his chest standing in front of the window, the city twinkling below him while you stood behind him, your hand coming around his waist to grasp his cock. Bucky's hands flew to the window, splayed wide to hold himself up, fucking his cock into your hand, hardly in control of his movements.

He pulled back enough so the head of his cock would rub against your palm before pushing forward again, chasing his orgasm, unable to take his eyes off the way his fat cock slipped in and out of you smaller hand.

"S'good to me bunny, need you ta' squeeze my cock harder, c'mon, need you bunny, I need you" He practically whimpered for you, balling his hands into fists when you complied with a hum, moving your hand with his movement, adding more pressure, feeling his cock grow harder.

"Gonn'a c-cum" Bucky stuttered out while you kissed his neck, letting him continue to fuck your hand, his tip nearly touching the cool glass with how fast he was moving. "Oh God-"

"Such a pretty, fat cock, you're making a mess baby, are you gonna cum in front of everyone and show everyone who you really belong to?" You whispered, only getting a slutty, guttural moan back in response. "Go a head baby, make yourself cum, show everyone you're mine"

"OH FUCKKKK" Your words tossed him over the edge, a pornographic moan slipped past his pink lips as he started to paint the windows with thick spurts of his cum. His body trembled, shivers running down his spine as his balls seized against his body, still feeling full as ever.

"Oh god, I can't stop" Bucky wrapped his hand on top of yours, jerking himself off faster, working up to a second orgasm, angling his hips to shoot at the window again, his head thrown back, nearly falling onto his knees. "C'mon, make me cum again, pleaseplease-

You pushed him back onto his large chair, pulling your dress up and panties to the side, impaling yourself onto his overstimulated cock, crying out when he gripped your hips and started to thrust up, not giving you any control. You clung onto him while he drilled up into you, dribbles of cum still pouring from the tip.

"You're mine sir, mine"

"M'all yours bunny, all fuckin' yours, use me, oh fuck, use me" You grasped onto his shoulders, riding him till tears streaked his face, taking everything you gave him while you pulled a third orgasm from him. And a fourth.

"I-I can't cum anymore, please, cock hurts bunny, I can't-

He was begging but he didn't want you to stop, his hips continuing to thrust up while he slammed your ass down on him sloppily, eyes rolled back while chasing your peaked nipples. He pulled you forward so he could suckle onto them while

"Your cock hurts baby boy?" you stroked his cheek, the new term of endearment making him hard all over again, a sob escaping him.

"It hurts so much, make it go away, m'still so hard, why's your pussy so good bunny"

"One more baby boy?"

"O-one more bunny"

By the end of the night, he was milked dry, holding onto you while you were tucked into his chest, his soft cock still buried deep in your pussy. His neck was littered with dark bruises you marked him with, trailing down to his chest. He cuddled you for a few more minutes before you both had to make your way back down, his hand not leaving yours.

"How was the call - oh-" the red head's eyes grew wide seeing the red and purple hues that peaked under Bucky's collar a proud smirk on his face while he put his arm around your waist.

"It went well. Closed a new deal, if you must know" He stated before pressing a kiss onto your cheek, grinning at the way you melted into him, his soft little bunny.

sorry, this was longer than i intended.

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