#I hope it wasn't a rhetorical question | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rynwritesreid · 5 months

Text

Take a ride| Spencer Reid

A/N: First of all, I hope that this is suitable compensation for everyone affected by my last fic. Second, my next non-requested smutty upload will be Sub! Spencer. And lastly, thank you so much for all the love guys, I am slowly working through your requests. Jag älskar dig 🫶🏼

Summary: You love to challenge authority, always knowing when to stop pushing buttons. However, you decide to see how far you can push Spencer before he gets angry enough to do something about it.

Content: Fem!Reader. Smut. Dom!Spencer Sub!Reader. Oral (both f & m receiving). Thigh humping. Fingering. Light bondage. Angry Spencer. Semi humiliation kink. Edging/overstimulation. Bratty reader. Power imbalance kink. 18+

Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation

Spencer knew what he was getting into when he started dating you. You weren’t defiant, per se, you followed the rules but only when you thought necessary. You didn’t mind getting lectured by Hotch, in fact, Spencer thought it was something you enjoyed.

Spencer knew you would not be someone who would easily submit to anyone or anything. He knew you were going to be a challenge, he just underestimated how much of a challenge you were going to be.

It wasn't just your defiance that fascinated him; it was the way you effortlessly challenged authority without ever crossing the line. You had a knack for bending the rules while still managing to stay within their boundaries. It was as if you had an innate understanding of when to push back and when to surrender.

Even though you loved pushing Hotch’s and the FBI buttons, you loved pushing Spencer’s more. Normally you wouldn’t take it too far, just far enough where you knew you were in for a treat later on. Spencer would normally overstimulate you; he loved hearing you beg for forgiveness, saying sorry over and over again until all you could do was moan.

But you wanted to see how far you could take it with Spencer, what he would do. You decided to play it safe to start off with. Every time he spoke, you would roll your eyes. At first, he didn’t seem to acknowledge what you were doing, he would simply carry on talking. Though after about a day of doing this, he would glare at you.

But instead of discouraging you, his glare only fuelled the fire within you. You craved his attention, even if it meant pushing his limits. So, you intensified your defiance, not holding back anymore.

As Spencer continued to talk, you let out an exasperated sigh and crossed your arms, openly displaying your disinterest. The room fell silent, all eyes on you and Spencer. His glare intensified, a mix of frustration and intrigue evident in his eyes.

"Is there something you want to say?" he finally asked, his voice slightly strained.

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "Oh, I'm sorry," you replied sarcastically. "I didn't realize I had to be interested in every little thing you have to say."

Spencer's jaw clenched as he fought to maintain his composure. He wasn't used to being challenged like this, especially not by someone he cared about. He didn’t say another word to you, he just took his eyes away and talked to the rest of your peers.

Once everyone had gone back to their desks, Spencer walked over to you. His eyes never leaving yours. “Roll your eyes one more time at me, and so help me God.” You could feel the tension in the air as Spencer stood before you, his voice low and controlled.

You knew you were starting to get to him, but you knew you could still take it further. “I thought you were an atheist, Spencer. Why are you asking God for help?” Even though your question was rhetorical, you asked it with a level of sincerity.

"Enough, Y/N," he growled, his voice full of warning. "You know exactly what I meant."

You could sense the shift in his demeanour, the underlying intensity that had been simmering beneath the surface. You had pushed him to his breaking point, and yet, you couldn't help but feel a strange surge of exhilaration coursing through your veins.

Spencer took a step closer, his proximity only heightening the charged atmosphere between you. The air crackled with unspoken desire and unyielding defiance. There was a part of you that wanted to relent, to submit to his authority, but another part revelled in the power play that unfolded before you.

"And what if I don't comply?" you challenged, your voice laced with defiance. "What will you do?"

He didn’t answer straightaway, so you answered for him. “Exactly, nothing. Maybe you should go back to your desk and get some work done before Hotch complains.”

Spencer's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and desire as he watched you, the challenge in your voice only serving to further ignite the fire within him. He could feel his control slipping, his usual calm and composed demeanour unravelling at the sheer audacity of your defiance.

With a calculated move, he took another step closer, closing the distance between you. His voice dropped to a low whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "You underestimate me, Y/N," he said, his tone laced with a dangerous edge. "But I assure you, I'm more than capable of making you comply."

He walked back to his desk, not allowing you to have the final word. You could see that you had rattled him, and that only fuelled your determination to push him further. You wanted to see how far he would go, how much control he was willing to relinquish.

For the rest of the day, you played it cool, focusing on your work and pretending as though nothing had happened between you and Spencer. You barely looked up at him, you wanted him to think he had won for now.

But as the hours ticked by, you could feel Spencer's eyes on you, his gaze burning into your skin. You knew he was silently contemplating his next move, strategizing how to regain control over the situation. And you were eager to see what he had in store.

Finally, as the workday drew to a close, Spencer stood up from his desk and walked purposefully towards you. His steps were measured, his expression unreadable. When he reached you, he took hold of your arm firmly but gently, guiding you towards the exit.

"Where are we going?" you asked, feigning innocence even though you had an inkling of what Spencer had in mind.

He didn’t answer, he didn’t even look at you. “Spencer, where are we going? I wanted to go to Rossi’s tonight, he’s teaching us to make homemade linguini, remember?” He still remained silent though.

“Are you ignoring me? How mature Spencer.” Spencer's grip tightened on your arm as he led you outside, away from the prying eyes of your colleagues. The cool night air brushed against your skin, adding a layer of suspense to the already charged atmosphere between you.

"Enough, Y/N," he finally spoke, his voice laced with both frustration and desire. “You’ve being testing me all day. And I think it’s time someone reminded you who’s in charge here.”

“No one’s meant to be in charge in a relationship, but if you want, I can go grab Hotch, I mean he is the one in charge after all.” Spencer’s eyes narrowed, annoyance and irritation flashing across his face. He had reached his breaking point, his patience worn thin by your relentless defiance. Without a word, he grabbed your waist and pulled you into him, his grip firm and possessive.

"Enough games, Y/N," he growled, his voice dripping with authority. "You push me, you challenge me, but do not mistake it for a lack of control."

He leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning across your ear as he whispered, "You want to play? Fine. But just remember, I always win."

“You don’t always win. I mean you haven’t won today. And what about Rossi’s?”

Spencer's gaze bore into yours, his intensity unwavering. "Rossi's can wait," he replied, a hint of mischief in his voice. "Right now, I'm going to remind you who's in charge."

He walked you over to his car, letting go of your arm so he could open your door, a gesture he always did, not matter how angry he was with you.

You slid into the passenger seat, still unable to hide the smirk playing on your lips. Spencer closed your door and made his way to the driver's side, taking a moment to compose himself before he started the engine.

As the car roared to life, the tension inside the vehicle matched the charged atmosphere between you. Spencer's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles turning white as he navigated the streets with a precision that mirrored his meticulous nature.

You decided to break the silence, you wanted to apologies to him, not because you were actually sorry but because you wanted him to think you were. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I was just bored today, and I thought it would be fun seeing how far I could take things. But I now realise that’s something I shouldn’t have done. So, I am truly and utterly sorry.” Your voice calm, but low, so it seemed like a real apology.

He remained silent, his eyes never leaving the road. “Spencer, please respond. I didn’t mean to anger you, I thought you would find it fun.”

“I don’t want to hear excuses, or fake apologies. You obviously need to learn a lesson.” Spencer's voice was cold, devoid of any hint of forgiveness or understanding. The atmosphere in the car became suffocating, the tension thick enough to cut through with a knife. You swallowed hard, feeling a twinge of unease crawl up your spine.

As Spencer continued to drive, the surroundings began to blur into a blur of streetlights and passing buildings. His steely gaze never wavered from the road ahead, his control unyielding and unwavering. It was as if he had transformed into someone else entirely, someone you had never seen before.

You glanced at him cautiously, trying to gauge his reaction. The anger in his eyes was still palpable, but there was something else there too—a hunger that made your breath hitch and your heart race. You could feel the heat between you intensifying, an electrifying current that left you both exhilarated and apprehensive.

"Spencer," you whispered tentatively, reaching out to touch his arm. Your fingers brushed against his skin, feeling the warmth radiating from it. But before you could say anything more, he abruptly pulled his arm away, his gaze still locked on the road ahead.

"Don't touch me," he snapped, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. The sharpness of his tone startled you, causing your hand to retract back to your side.

Once he had pulled up to his apartment, you didn’t wait for him to open your door, and simply jumped out and waited for him. As you stood outside his apartment, you could feel the tension between you and Spencer reach its peak. The air crackled with anticipation, each passing second heightening your desire for him. You knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for, the culmination of your shared lust and pent-up frustration.

Spencer finally emerged from the car, his tall figure casting a shadow over you. He eyed you intently, his gaze burning with a mix of anger and longing. Without saying a word, he walked towards you and grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards the entrance of his building.

He pulled you up the stairs, not even letting go off you to open up his door. Once inside his apartment, Spencer slammed the door shut behind you, his eyes never leaving yours. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows that danced across the walls, amplifying the intensity of the moment.

“Spencer, I said I’m sorry. What else do you want me to do?” Spencer's silence hung heavy in the air as he continued to hold your wrist tightly, his grip unyielding. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in around you, intensifying the sense of anticipation and unease. You watched as his eyes bore into yours, searching for any hint of sincerity in your words.

His voice was low and gravelly as he finally spoke, his tone laced with a mix of frustration and desire. "Sorry isn't enough, Y/N. Words won't be sufficient to teach you the lesson you so desperately need."

He paused for a second, trying to come up with a good enough punishment. “The only way you’re getting off tonight, is my thigh.”

"Are you serious?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The intensity in his eyes was enough to confirm that this was no idle threat. He meant every word.

“I am very serious. Remember, you did this to yourself. If anything, I’m going too easy on you. Maybe I shouldn’t let you cum for the rest of the week, or make sure you struggle to walk for the next few days.”

You gasped, the gravity of his words sinking in. As much as his punishment excited you, it also stirred a deep sense of vulnerability within you.

"Spencer, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling with a mix of desire and apprehension. "I didn't mean to push you this far. I just wanted... I just wanted to feel your control."

A flicker of understanding flashed across his eyes, but he remained resolute. "Control is not something to be taken lightly, Y/N," he said sternly. "It is earned and respected. And tonight, you will learn exactly what it means to surrender."

He led you to the living room, fingers still wrapped tightly around your wrist. The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation, every second stretching out into eternity as you waited for his command.

"Undress," he ordered, his voice firm. A small part of you wanted to tell him that if he wants to see you naked, then he should undress you himself. But you knew then that would be pushing it a little too far.

He stood still, watching you as you unbuttoned your blouse, revealing a light blue lace bra. His eyes scanning your body, his tongue licking his lips. He looked at you as if you were prey. As you moved onto your trousers, his eyes followed. It was almost humiliating. He was staying fully dressed, while watching you undress yourself for him.

Your heart raced as you slid your trousers down your legs, feeling exposed under his unwavering gaze. "You look beautiful," Spencer murmured, his voice low and husky. His eyes continued to roam over your body, taking in every curve and dip, fuelling a fire deep within you. You couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at his words, even though you knew it was merely a precursor to the punishment that awaited you.

“But when I said undress, I meant fully.” His voice had gone back to being cold.

You hesitated for a moment, uncertain of whether you were ready to bare yourself completely. The room grew colder as you stood there, shivering slightly under his gaze. With a deep breath, you reached behind your back and unhooked your bra, letting it slide down your arms and dropping it to the floor.

Spencer's eyes darkened with a mix of desire and dominance as he watched you undress. The air crackled with tension, the anticipation thickening with each passing moment. You kicked off your panties, finally standing before him completely exposed and vulnerable.

You watched as he walked over to his sofa. He sat himself down and open his legs slightly. He patted his thigh, as if he were asking you to sit on it for him.

Taking a step forward, you approached him with a mixture of trepidation and longing. You felt the cool air brush against your bare skin, heightening your senses. With each fleeting moment, the anticipation grew, electrifying the atmosphere.

You positioned yourself in front of Spencer, his thigh invitingly raised and awaiting your compliance. Slowly, you straddled him, feeling the heat of his body radiating through his clothes. The contact sent a wave of electricity coursing through your veins, causing you to inhale sharply.

Spencer's hands found their way to your hips, gripping them firmly as he guided you onto his thigh. The pressure against your core was immediate, eliciting a soft moan from deep within your throat. The friction of his thigh against your sensitive flesh sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body, making it difficult to suppress the moans that threatened to escape your lips.

"Ride my thigh, Y/N," he growled, his voice laced with a raw hunger that sent shivers down your spine. "Show me how badly you want to be controlled."

Spencer's hands tightened their grip on your hips, guiding your movements with precision. Each motion sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, building the tight coil of desire within you. The room filled with the sound of your moans, mingling with Spencer's low groans of pleasure.

As you rode his thigh, the intensity of the moment consumed you. The room fell away, leaving only the two of you entangled in a dance of desire and control. Spencer's hands tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he guided your movements with expert precision.

“Is this all it takes for you to actually listen to me? You just want to cum huh?” He chuckled.

You only seemed to be able to nod your head, the only thing leaving your mouth were moans. “Maybe I should have asked you to grind against my shoes instead, you seem to be enjoying this too much.”

Your body trembled with a mixture of pleasure and desperation as Spencer's words sank in. The thought of grinding against his shoes sent a surge of excitement through you, despite the humiliation it would bring. You were at his mercy, completely under his control, and you craved more.

Spencer's grip on your hips tightened as he felt your body tense with desire. A wicked smile tugged at the corners of his lips, reflecting the dominance that radiated from him. With a sudden surge of confidence, he released your hips and reached down to unbutton his pants. The sound of metal against metal echoed through the room as he unzipped his fly, freeing himself from the confines of his trousers.

You watched with hungry eyes as Spencer's erection sprang free, standing proudly before you. A shiver ran down your spine as desire pooled between your thighs, the ache for release growing stronger by the second. The anticipation was palpable, hanging thickly in the air like an intoxicating fog.

"Get on your knees," Spencer commanded, his voice low and commanding. You obeyed without hesitation, the need to please him overpowering any remnants of resistance. Your knees sank into the plush carpet, bringing you eye level with his throbbing length.

You could feel his gaze burning into you as you took him in your hands, stroking his length firmly. A groan escaped from Spencer's lips; his head tilted back in pleasure. The power dynamic between you had shifted completely, and you revelled in the sense of control you now held.

With every stroke, Spencer grew harder in your grasp, his desire evident in the way he gripped onto the edge of the sofa. You marvelled at the way he responded to your touch, relishing in the way his body reacted to your every movement.

You leaned in closer, flicking your tongue against the sensitive tip of his cock. Spencer's breath hitched, a low growl rumbling from deep within his chest. He tangled his fingers in your hair, guiding you as you took him further into your mouth.

Your lips wrapped around him, the taste of his desire lingering on your tongue. You reveled in the power you held over him, eager to please and satisfy his every need. Your tongue glided along his length, tracing the veins that pulsed with his desire. Spencer's grip on your hair tightened, his hips canting forward, urging you to take him deeper.

The intensity of the moment consumed you as you surrendered completely to him. Each thrust of his hips brought you closer to the edge, your own desire building with every flicker of your tongue against his sensitive flesh. Your senses heightened, the sound of his moans filling the room, mingling with your own pleasure-filled gasps.

Spencer's control wavered as he neared the precipice of release. His grip on your hair became tighter, guiding you with an urgency that matched the rhythm of his thrusts. The powerful waves of pleasure coursed through him, radiating from every inch of his being.

As Spencer's release neared, you could feel the tension in his body intensify. His breaths became ragged and irregular, and you could sense that he was on the verge of losing his grip on control. With a final, desperate thrust, he released himself into your mouth.

You swallowed eagerly, savouring the taste of him as his essence filled your senses. The primal satisfaction that filled the room was overwhelming, leaving you both breathless and intoxicated with desire.

Spencer collapsed back onto the sofa, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. You rose from your knees, licking your lips and savouring the lingering taste of him on your tongue.

Spencer knew he wasn’t done with you yet; he knew this wasn’t a proper punishment. Spencer's eyes burned with a renewed determination as he met your gaze. Despite the intense pleasure that still lingered within you, there was a hunger for more, an unquenchable longing that pulsed through your veins.

"Get on the bed," he commanded, his voice low and commanding. The room seemed to dim around you, shadows dancing against the walls, as you obeyed his command.

The bed beckoned you, its soft sheets invitingly cool against your heated skin. You climbed onto it, positioning yourself on all fours, ready and exposed for whatever Spencer had in mind.

Spencer stood up from the sofa, his eyes fixed on your vulnerable form on the bed. He moved towards you slowly, the anticipation building with each step. As he reached the edge of the bed, he trailed a finger lightly along your spine.

He reached over to the nightstand and retrieved a length of silk rope, his eyes never leaving yours. With a swift motion, he secured your wrists together, binding them tightly but not painfully. You tested the restraints instinctively, feeling the rush of helplessness mingling with arousal.

With your wrists secured, Spencer moved to the foot of the bed, his gaze darkening with a predatory hunger. He wasted no time, his hands trailing up your legs, skimming over the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. A shiver ran through you, anticipation coiling tightly in your core.

His touch was teasing, tormenting, as he neared the apex of your thighs. His fingers danced along the edges of your arousal, but never fully delved into it. It was a maddeningly slow torture that left you trembling with need.

"Please," you whispered, unable to contain the desperation in your voice. The ache within you was unbearable, the longing for release. Spencer's lips curled into a devilish smile, relishing in the power he held over you. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Patience, my love. I deserve patience after the stunts you pulled today.”

His fingers continued their torturous dance along your inner thighs, inching closer to your throbbing core. Every brush of his fingertips ignited a fire within you, intensifying the ache for release. Your body quivered with need, yearning for his touch to finally grant you the satisfaction you craved.

Finally, Spencer's fingers made contact with your slick folds, teasingly skimming against your sensitive entrance. A gasp escaped your lips as he dipped a single finger inside, drawing out a slow, deliberate stroke that had you arching your back in sheer ecstasy. Each movement was precise, calculated to push you closer to the edge without granting you the climax you so desperately sought.

"More," you begged, your voice filled with a desperation that matched the wildfire burning within you. Spencer's eyes gleamed with delight at your plea, relishing in the power he held over your pleasure.

With a wicked smile, he added another finger, curling them inside you expertly, hitting that spot that made your entire body quiver with every stroke. The intensity of the pleasure built rapidly, transcending everything else in the room. Your moans filled the air, mingling with the sound of his fingers slipping in and out of you.

But just as you were on the precipice of release, Spencer pulled his fingers out, leaving you gasping and reaching for something to cling onto. The sudden emptiness made you whimper with frustration. Spencer's eyes held an intoxicating mix of dominance and satisfaction as he watched you squirm on the bed.

"You don't get to come yet," he murmured huskily. "Not until I've had my fill." Spencer's words hung in the air, teasing, and taunting you. Every fibber of your being throbbed with desire, yearning for release. The hunger in his eyes reflected your own as he positioned himself between your spread legs.

Lowering his head, Spencer's hot breath fanned across your sensitive flesh. His lips brushed against your inner thighs, peppering soft kisses along the way, deliberately avoiding the centre of your need. The anticipation was agonizing, a delicious torment that made your body ache for his touch.

Finally, his tongue flicked out and traced a slow circle around your swollen clit. A gasp escaped your lips as pleasure surged through you. He continued to tease, alternating between gentle licks and firm sucks that had you writhing beneath him.

Each flicker of his tongue against your most intimate place intensified the fire within you. Your hips rocked instinctively, seeking more friction, more pleasure. But Spencer held firm control over your pleasure, denying you the release you so desperately craved. He continued his torturous ministrations, never relenting, never granting you the satisfaction of that mind-numbing climax.

Your body trembled with every stroke of his tongue, your need escalating to a maddening frenzy. The room was filled with the symphony of your moans, your pleas mixed with the wet sounds of his mouth on your throbbing core. The tension coiled tighter and tighter within you, threatening to shatter your sanity.

Spencer's hands gripped your hips, holding you firmly in place as he devoured you with an insatiable hunger. You were at his mercy, surrendering yourself completely to his touch. The pulsating waves of pleasure radiated through every fibber of your being, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, when the ache for release became unbearable, Spencer pulled away.

Your whole body cried out in protest at the sudden absence of his touch. You whimpered, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Spencer's dark eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched you, revelling in the control he had over your pleasure.

"Please," you begged, your voice dripping with need. "I need to cum."

Spencer's lips curled into a wicked smile, knowing full well the power he held over your satisfaction. He crawled up the bed, positioning himself over you, his hard length brushing against your thigh. The hunger in his eyes was palpable as he captured your gaze.

"Oh, my love," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "I'm not done with you yet. I want to watch you unravel completely."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, desire pooling between your legs once again. Spencer grasped your wrists, releasing them from their restraints, allowing you to wrap your arms around him.

With a swift motion, Spencer positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you with the head of his throbbing length. The anticipation was maddening, the need for him to fill you overwhelming every inch of your being. You let out a soft whimper, begging him to take you, to quell the ache that consumed you.

But Spencer relished in your desperation, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth with a hunger that matched your own. It was a battle of dominance and surrender as your tongues danced and clashed, melding together in a frenzied embrace.

When he finally pulled away, his lips trailed down your neck, peppering heated kisses along the curve of your throat. His breath was hot against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. As his teeth grazed along the sensitive flesh, a bolt of pleasure shot through you, electrifying every nerve ending.

With agonizing slowness, Spencer entered you, his hard length filling you inch by inch. You gasped at the delicious stretch, the feeling of him stretching you to your limits. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, a mix of pain and ecstasy that had your body arching off the bed in pure bliss.

He began to move within you, his thrusts slow and deliberate. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body, intensifying the ache for release that had been building within you for so long. Your fingers clenched against the silk restraints, the sensation of being bound adding an extra layer of arousal.

Spencer's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. He knew exactly how to push your buttons, hitting that spot deep inside you with every powerful stroke. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, mingling with your moans and gasps.

Your senses were completely consumed by the pleasure, nothing else existing except for the connection between you and Spencer. His gaze locked with yours, his eyes filled with an intensity that matched the blaze within you. Every movement, every thrust, carried you further and further into a state of raw ecstasy. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance of desire.

As Spencer's rhythm became more erratic, your body responded in kind, meeting his every movement with unyielding fervour. The bed rocked beneath you, a symphony of creaks and moans echoing through the room. Sweat glistened on your skin, the scent of desire mingling with the air.

Time lost all meaning as pleasure coiled tightly within you, ready to unravel at any moment. The fire burned within your core, threatening to consume you whole. Spencer's fingers dug into your hips, his grip possessive yet exhilarating.

With one final thrust, the dam broke.

An explosion of sensation ripped through your body as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your nails dug into his skin. He quickly followed you, releasing his seed deep in you.

He pulled out and had a look a triumph plastered across his face. “I think we should probably get ready to leave now, huh?”

~Join my taglist~

~Taglist~

@iluvreid @nomajdetective @drspencieee @katieeeee314 @evvy96 @oliviah-25 @starkid024 @emalynvtgtgfhvgg @krokietino @xohoneybun @spencerreidwifeee @purplepistachi0 @pleasantwitchgarden @bitchassbecky691 @piperb400 @queermaxwooo @gemofthenight @topguncultleader @luvpiercethekaty @matthew-gray-gubler-lover

2K notes · View notes

xbellaxcarolinax · 9 months

Text

Futile Devices

Miguel O'Hara x civilian f!reader

Summary: The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain.

Word Count: 8.2k (A behemoth of a fic, I'm so sorry guys)

Warnings: FWB, language, angst, reader is totally in love with Miguel, Miguel being a bit of an ass, probably a tad toxic? SMUT, p in v (no protection), cum play, low-key breeding kink? Like super low-key. Oral (f receiving). Miguel climbing through windows. Idk why I'm obsessed with that thought lmfao I make him climb through windows every chance I get. Idiots in love. Probably a rushed ending, sorry!

Thanks to @whatthefishh for beta-reading. Partly inspired by this.

Also, this is mega ultra cliche, we all know they're gonna end up together, so just enjoy the ride! It's not the destination, it's the journey 😌 Hope you guys enjoy, and if you do, pls let me know what you think! I love reading your comments!

MDNI pls.

...

It was always a mission getting to Miguel's office.

Headquarters wasn't built to accommodate civilians, the winding pathways and corridors a danger if one wasn't too careful.

You had to be extra careful.

You hurried toward Miguel's office, heels clicking against clean tiled floors as you dodged a fuck ton of spider people and the inescapable attention of one annoying Peter Parker.

"Come on," Peter Parker number two hundred tried his luck again, "just one date. I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go."

"No." You rolled your eyes, swatting him with the manilla folder in your hands like you would a fly.

“Look, all I’m saying is you should give me a shot. I’m funny.”

“So is every other Peter Parker I’ve encountered.”

“I’m different.”

“I doubt it.”

He deflated, keeping up with your quick steps. “Who doesn’t like funny guys?”

“Me.”

“Sure,” he stretched the word out, unconvinced, "so if not funny guys then what? The ones with sticks up their asses, like Miguel?" He snorted with a shake of his head. You knew it was a sort of rhetorical question but you couldn’t help swallowing thickly, your hands gripping the folder a little too tightly.

Yeah. Something like that.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach when Peter Parker two hundred raised his brows at your silence. So maybe he did want an answer.

"Nah, there's no way. I'll try again tomorrow." He smiled, shooting a web out in some random direction and swinging off toward the floor above.

Fuck. That was close.

You breathed a sigh of relief, loosening your fingers over the folder before quickly hurrying toward your destination.

You pressed your watch against the sensor outside of Miguel's office, waiting for the metal door to slide open. It didn't. You tried again. Still nothing. Again. It wouldn't budge.

"Ugh, come on, Miguel!" You banged the door with a tiny fist as if that would make a difference, "open up!"

Lyla appeared suddenly, her sprite-like form circling your head once before she faced you.

"You probably shouldn't go in there," she warned, "he's in a…mood."

"He’s always in a mood," your hands were on your hips now, the manilla folder crinkling further in your hand, "I need to report a couple of grievances—"

"Mmmmmm, I'm sure that's the last thing he wants to hear right now, Miss HR." God you hated when they called you that. You rolled your eyes, swatting her away with the folder which did nothing, of course, and pressed your watch against the sensor.

"That's not gonna work, honey."

"So let me in."

"Promise to be nice?"

"To who?" You snorted, "You or Miguel?"

"Me," Lyla grinned, adjusting her heart-shaped glasses, "forget Miguel."

You sighed, cracking a smile, "Lyla, would you please let me into Miguel's office?" The Ai made a noise of approval, comically saluting you before granting you access.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya." She sang, disappearing from your sight.

You sighed. Miguel's shifting moods were nothing new to you—not anymore. Back when you both worked at Alchemax, he was passive and less quick to anger. But that seemed a lifetime ago.

Life progresses. People change.

“Mig?” You called out, peering up toward his solitary platform. You could hear the soft hisses of machinery, the yellow glow of Miguel’s holo screens illuminating the area above like a radiant star.

He didn’t answer.

“Miguel,” you tried again, “we have some things to discuss.” You slapped the manilla folder against your hand as if he’d recognize the sound of formal complaints filed within the last week.

The platform began to descend after a moment, and you breathed a sigh of relief as his figure came into view. His shoulders were stiff, his body rigid as he swiped through the yellow screens.

“I told Lyla not to let anyone in.” His voice was cold, frigid even. He didn’t bother to face you, his eyes pinned to his screens as he leaned forward, the muscles of his back flexing through his suit.

You couldn’t see what he was looking at but you could hear it: the soft giggles of a little girl, the cheers of a soccer game, the chuckles of a man now broken. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard the sounds of Miguel’s past. It probably wouldn’t be the last either.

“I-uh, got some reports to share with you.” You felt foolish. Lyla was right. HR complaints were the last thing on Miguel’s mind.

“Reports of the anomaly on Earth 9811?” Your brows pinched in irritation. He knew those weren’t the reports you had. You were fucking HR, not on active duty, let alone a spider person.

"No, you'd have to ask Jess or Gwen about that, but you need to listen—"

“I don’t want to hear it.” He grunted. You saw his hands form fists at his sides, the same hands that’d fisted your sheets in the throes of pleasure just days ago.

You shook your head. It was not the time for that kind of thought.

You carefully opened the crinkled folder, pulling out the paperwork you’d printed from your antique printer to read aloud from it.

“Peter Parker of Earth 5431-02 has formally filed a complaint,” you began, your eyes scanning the black text before releasing an exasperated sigh, “he’s saying you threw a chair at him?” Miguel grunted, the holo screens shutting off at his (Lyla’s) command.

“He’s an idiot.” Miguel snapped, finally turning to face you, his sharp features shadowed by the lack of light. He regarded you carefully, red eyes tracing your figure. You’ve grown used to the way his eyes lingered over you, especially when you were under him, his body pressed against yours, but sometimes you couldn’t help but squirm under his more severe gaze.

“Well, yeah,” you reluctantly agreed with a tilt of your head, “but a chair, Miguel?”

“It’s not like it hurt him...badly.”

“That's not the point."

“The point is that I got my point across.” Miguel snorted.

"It's the principle. You don't go around throwing fucking chairs at the people who work for you!"

"Mhm."

"You're their boss! What kind of behavior is that?"

"Uh-huh."

You were about ready to strangle him but knew your fingers couldn’t even go around his throat properly. You’ve tried before, under very different circumstances. You settled for pinching the bridge of your nose, as he often did, taking a breath to calm yourself before you completely lost your shit. "Listen to me."

"I'm listening, HR."

"Ugh, look," you pointed a finger up toward him, your brows knitted in obvious irritation, "annoying or not, he's still a member of the Spider Society, therefore, he has every right—”

“—to file a grievance under any circumstance as a result of an injustice, discrimination, or harmful behavior, and is to be given the respect to which every spider person is due as a valued member of the society. I know.” Miguel finished the legal jargon for you, hopping off the platform with an ease that’d always surprised you.

He stepped into your space, his large body casting a long shadow over you as he snatched the crinkled paperwork from your hands.

“I’ll speak with him.” He grunted. You pursed your lips, watching as his eyes scanned over the page.

"Make it right, Mig. Apologize. Formally. Or informally. It doesn’t matter— there’s nothing normal about this place anyway.” You placed your hands on your hips as you leaned forward, aware of how he was suddenly gazing down at you. “Just be nice, okay? Compensate him with, I dunno, a minor mission. He always wants to get involved, so let him.”

Miguel rolled his eyes, heaving a great sigh while running his hand through his hair. “Fine.”

“And no more throwing chairs to make a point.”

“Uh-huh, fine, anything else?” God, you wanted to smack him. You opted for snatching back the paperwork from his hand, smoothing out the wrinkles over your skirt-clad thighs before searching for the proper page.

“Yeah," you brought a finger down on the page, "the spiders are getting bored of the cafeteria food.” That was enough for Miguel's face to pinch in displeasure.

“What’s wrong with empanadas and churros?” He scoffed, waving his hand to dismiss the complaint, “And that stupid blue burger with my face on it?” He paused, eyes squinting for a moment, “You know what? That can go. Get rid of it.”

“Fine. Do I have permission to organize a survey?”

“For food?”

“Yes, for food. They want options.”

“Aye, por Dios,” Miguel grunted, waving his hand again, “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope.” You organized the documents back into the manila folder before handing it over to him.

“You know you could just send this electronically, right?” He looked down at the folder, his eyes tracing your neat cursive in black ink.

“I’m old-fashioned.” You shrugged, turning on your heels. You heard him snort out a laugh, a tiny thing that made you smile. He has a nice laugh.

“One more thing,” Miguel called out, demandingly. You looked over your shoulder at him as he regarded you with heavy eyes.

“What is it?”

He boarded the platform once again, the machinery coming to life and slowly elevating him back to his preferred height. He tossed the folder somewhere over the desk, to be forgotten. It was the least of his worries at that moment.

You watched Miguel ascend above you like some kind of heavenly being, the yellow light of the holo screens illuminating his tan skin till he glowed molten gold. You waited on him with bated breath, his response sinking straight to your core.

“Keep your window unlocked tonight.”

…

He loves it when you ride him.

His large hands were glued to your hips as you bounced on him expertly, your cunt soaking him in your sticky juices.

Most nights began this way—with Miguel's cock buried deep in your pussy after a long day of enduring his insufferable attitude. You'd fuck the stress out of him—fuck the astronomical weight of the multiverse off his shoulders if only for a few short hours.

"Been thinking about this all day." He groaned under you, throwing his head back over your pillow when he felt your walls grip his length viciously, fighting to keep him in.

"Yeah?" You gasped, your hands firmly planted on his bare chest as you made work of your hips, rotating them in delicious circles—the way he liked—your thighs spread wide to accommodate his massive size. "W-wasn't enough to curb that a-attitude though, huh?"

Even amid the utmost pleasure—of Miguel's length hitting a spot that had you trembling—you found the strength to taunt him, your hazy eyes catching a glimpse of the twitch in his brow. That meant trouble.

Within seconds Miguel had you on your back, his imposing body trapping you against your mattress. His cock slipped out for a moment but he had no problem finding his way back into your slippery channel, snapping his hips strategically to reach as deep as he could.

You cried out, your hands scrambling to find purchase over his shoulders, your pretty manicured nails digging into his perfectly golden skin.

"F-fuck! Miguel!"

"Wanna say that again?" He growled, his face hovering mere centimeters from yours, "Go ahead, say it again." You did nothing but whimper as he pounded into you mercilessly, his cock stretching you open.

"That's what I thought." Miguel chuckled smugly, delighting in your little chokes and stutters, egging him to keep pounding you relentlessly. You tried speaking—tried to articulate your words to him, but you couldn't, too cock drunk to focus on anything else but his gorgeous face twisted up in pleasure and his thick cock kissing the secret place within you.

He had you coming soon after, stars exploding behind your lids as you trembled in his arms. Your cunt squeezed him just right and he came, panting in your ear as he filled you to the brim.

His spend stained your sheets when he pulled out, and as always, he watched it dribble out from your swollen cunt with lidded eyes. He wasted no time in taking his fingers and stuffing the mess back in.

“Keep me in there.” He muttered, swiping through your puffy folds one final time before he ripped himself from you. You immediately soured, keeping your gaze on him as he quickly cleaned himself off with a cloth you left for him on your nightstand.

You admired his figure: the ripple of his muscles as he moved, the broadness of his shoulders, the glow of his skin in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

Miguel was gorgeous. You’ve always thought so.

His suit glitched before coming to life, covering his sculpted body in the usual blue and red you've come to know.

“Did…you want to eat before you go?” Dinner was on the stove, cold but still good. You sat up against your headboard, more of his spend leaking out as you fiddled with your fingers over the soiled sheets.

Miguel shook his head, sighing as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“I have to go.” He said, stepping forward, grabbing your hand, and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles. It was the only form of affection he’d allowed himself to give you. He’d never kissed you before. Probably never will. It wasn't part of the deal.

Your heart sunk, your skin searing where his lips had lingered.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Most nights ended this way—with your aching cunt full of his seed and your eyes wet with unshed tears as you watched him leave through your window, disappearing into the night.

…

A few days later, Peter B. Parker landed in your office. Quite literally.

He plopped down on the seat in front of yours from seemingly nowhere, a messily packed diaper bag hanging loosely from his shoulder. He had his daughter snuggly pressed against his chest in her carrier, her chubby arms and legs flailing over his pink robe.

You yelped, dropping the pen in your hand, clutching your chest in freight.

“Jesus! Where the hell did you just come from?!”

“Up there.” Peter pointed up. You followed his line of vision, noting the door to the air vent busted open, barely hanging from its hinges. “Sorry about the vent.” He offered sheepishly, taking a large bite of a slice of pizza he'd pulled from a greased-up brown paper bag.

"You could've just taken the elevator!"

"Takes too long to get to the basement.” He said between a mouthful of pizza, “Why'd Miguel give you an office down here anyway?"

"I'm scared of heights." You reminded him, watching Mayday struggle to release herself from her carrier prison. Peter snorted out a laugh, dropping the diaper bag on the floor while simultaneously taking another bite of his pizza.

“Doesn’t make sense to work in a place like this.”

“It was the deal I made when Miguel asked me to work for him. Chew with your mouth closed.”

“Have you tried the cafeteria pizza?" He asked suddenly, ignoring your demand and speaking with another mouth full of the greasy treat, "It's the new thing. Everyone's going crazy."

You smiled smugly. "I know. You’re welcome."

“Ah, I should've known Miss HR was behind this!” You rolled your eyes at the nickname, rummaging through your drawer before tossing him a few napkins.

“What can I do for you, Peter?”

Mayday whined, crawling out of the carrier and over her father’s thighs. She hopped on your desk, scattering some of your paperwork. You quickly caught her before she tumbled off the edge, cooing at her before placing her in your lap. You squeezed her in your arms and she let out a scream of delight before squirming, reaching out in wonder at the different knick-knacks on your desk.

“Right, almost forgot." Peter took the last bite of his pizza, wiping his face and fingers with the napkins you provided before his face morphed into something serious. "Is this guy bothering you?” He pulled out a yellow holo pad, one presumably given to him by Miguel, revealing a video of you and Peter Parker two hundred from the other day.

You blinked, your eyes tracing the moving image carefully.

”Oh. Not really,” you finally said, ripping your gaze away from the screen, “Nothing I can't handle. Why?”

“Miguel asked me to investigate the situation discreetly.”

"Asked?"

"Well, demanded, you know Miguel," Peter shrugged, reaching down into the diaper bag and procuring a lollipop when Mayday began to whine, “he’s concerned. I figured it’d be easier to just ask you about it.”

You frowned, grasping the sweet when he handed it over to you, pulling off the wrapper and placing it in Mayday's chubby hand, “That’s hardly discreet.”

“I didn’t wanna follow the guy around!”

“He's making you do that?”

“‘Of course he is. Doesn't like the guy. He barely tolerates me!”

You snorted. “Why does Miguel even care?”

"You know him better than any of us do. If anyone would know, it’s you."

Well, that was true.

You knew Miguel before he created the Spider Society, before he was ever Spider-Man. You knew him before his addiction to Rapture, before he experienced fatherhood, before he lost Gabriella.

Back when, to the world, he was just some guy in a white lab coat.

But he was never just some guy to you.

You’ve loved Miguel for years. You’d loved him in your early days at Alchemax, when he was fresh out of college and eager to begin his shaky career, back when you were hanging on to the corporation by a measly thread of an unpaid internship. You were a pair, stuck to each other like glue.

A few years later, when you both decided to take it a step further and mess around, well, that only ignited your feelings further. Miguel was an attentive lover. He knew your needs and fulfilled them, taking you to the heights of pleasure before humbling you just as smoothly with his strict rules about your agreement.

He didn’t have time to cater to someone's feelings—didn’t have time for a romantic relationship when he had too much on his plate. But his sexual appetite demanded attention—and why not with someone he’s called a friend for years?

You were just a friend. And that’s all you’d ever be.

It was just sex. That's all it'd ever be.

“You okay?” Peter ripped you away from your thoughts, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You answered with a sigh, gently resting your chin over Mayday’s soft curls. “Is Miguel worried?”

“You’re the closest thing he has to a friend, of course he’s worried about you. Those were his words, not mine.” Peter shrugged, putting his holo pad away, “so is there a cause for concern?” The thought alone almost made you smile. Almost. Instead, you scoffed, shaking your head.

“I’m usually the one that handles these situations, you know.”

“And who’s supposed to help you?”

“I don’t need help.”

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced. “Miguel doesn't seem to think so. You sure?”

“Very.”

“Alright, I did my part!” He clapped his hands as if he’d successfully completed a mission, “Time to go, Mayday!” He stood, grabbing the babbling baby from you and placing her back in the carrier.

"She's precious." You said, gently pinching Mayday's drool-covered cheek as she teethed over her lollipop.

"Takes after her dad." Peter grinned, snatching up the diaper bag, "Listen, if you ever need any help—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, get outta here, Parker." You shooed him away, quickly organizing your wrinkled paperwork together. You could still feel his eyes on you as you kept your hands busy, and when you finally looked at him he had a silly smile on his face.

"What?"

“You guys are idiots." He was still grinning.

"What?"

"Nothin'," he said, pressing a kiss to Mayday's red curls, "Just do me a favor. Don't mention any of this to Miguel, alright?"

You crossed your arms, leaning back against your swivel chair. "Sure."

...

"So you think I need help?"

Miguel's hands immediately stilled on your hips as you stirred the boiling pasta over your electric stove.

You didn't hear him come in, but you had a feeling he’d show up. It had been a couple of days since he’d fucked you, and there were many stressful days between then and now.

So you’d left your window unlocked just in case.

"What are you talking about?" He muttered, his fingers lightly dancing on your waist before pulling away completely.

"Nothing." You huffed to yourself, cutting off the heat and getting on your toes to reach for the pasta strainer on the shelf above. After a second of watching you struggle, Miguel put a hand on your shoulder to stop you, reaching forward to grab it for you.

"Doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’.” He finally said, observing you strain the pasta over the sink, the steam from the hot water engulfing you both in what felt like a thick cloud of tension. You peered over your shoulder at him, your eyes raking over his solid form.

“You know, Peter Parker two hundred?” You asked, witnessing his face contort from passive to extreme annoyance.

He sucked his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. He leaned back against your counter, looking so out of place in your tiny kitchen, his broad shoulders almost the entire width of your cupboard. “I told Peter to be discreet.”

“He said you’re worried about your only friend.” You continued to tease him, emphasizing the word as you lifted the lid to a pot where a homemade Pomodoro sauce was bubbling.

“I said that?” Miguel muttered, feigning innocence, watching you take a spoon and scoop some of the red sauce for a quick taste. You could feel his gaze on you, his eyes tracing the way your tongue licked off the remnants of sauce.

You hummed in approval before scooping up some more and turning to offer Miguel a taste. You lifted the spoon toward him, and after a moment of contemplation, he hunched forward with arms crossed over his toned chest, mouth opening slightly to allow you to press the spoon past his lips.

His eyes fluttered as he savored the rich taste, humming his own tune of approval.

"Is it good?"

“Mhm.”

You beamed, eyeing how he licked his lips like a satisfied cat, his fangs protruding slightly when he ran his tongue over them. The same fangs you’ve felt over your delicate skin from time to time.

Miguel was a biter. You didn’t mind.

Miguel grunted, using his thumb to wipe off a bit of sauce that lingered near the corner of your lips. You inhaled a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering from the heat of his touch.

"What else did he say?" He murmured, looming over you, his hand now gently cradling the back of your neck, thumb caressing your skin.

"T-that you're worried about me?" You breathed. Miguel pulled you closer suddenly, the faintest noise of surprise escaping you. His suit always felt strange under your fingers, the digitized fabric almost slippery, like fine silk. It was ridiculous how perfect you felt wrapped up in his arms. You sometimes wished he'd show up in civilian clothes. You missed his lazy outfits when he'd throw on an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him in anything other than his suit (and his naked form, of course). It meant he was always on the clock, devoting all his precious time to the multiverse.

It meant that whenever he was alone with you, he considered it work.

And yet, the suit made you feel secure and safe—like nothing in the world could harm you. And there was truth to that, though the only thing harming you these days was Miguel himself. But that was your fault too.

The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain.

You gazed at his full lips. You desperately wanted to taste them, to know how soft and warm they would feel molded against yours. If you were brave enough you might have stolen a taste, might have felt those sharp canines for yourself on your tongue.

Miguel’s thick fingers trailed into your hair, gripping the roots with just a hint of pressure, his lidded eyes taking in every part of your face: your brows, your eyes, the bridge of your nose, and your supple lips—wet and swollen from biting them so damn much.

"Maybe just a little," he finally answered, his shoulders shifting in a slight shrug. You could feel his length press against your hip, hot and throbbing, demanding attention.

It filled you with pride knowing your proximity was enough to get him excited. It shouldn't though. It was only arousal. Basic primal instincts.

You shouldn’t be feeling pride for any of this. You had to remind yourself of that.

You closed your eyes, willing your heartbeat to slow down just a bit. Could you really be this love-sick? So hung up on a man who was emotionally unavailable? If you hadn’t fallen before, then you knew you were plummeting now, so far gone that you’d let Miguel do anything to you.

So when he whisked you away to your bedroom, dinner long forgotten, you didn’t put up a fight.

He fucked you from behind.

It was a tight stretch, your wet cunt fighting him as he tried pressing his swollen tip in with little luck.

"Gotta let me in," he grunted, spreading your cheeks wide to gaze down at your twitching holes, "you're too tight. Let me in."

"I'm trying," you panted, tears in your eyes as you buried your face into the sheets, "i-it's been a while."

"It's okay," his large hands caressed the globes of your ass in comfort, "it's my fault. Haven't been fucking you enough, hm? S'my fault." Miguel rubbed his cock through your soaked folds a few times, the obscene noises of your sopping cunt causing him to grunt.

"Goddamn, so fuckin' wet." He muttered before lining himself up and carefully pushing in again. You cried out, fisting the sheets when he successfully got the tip in. He groaned, the guttural sound masking your tiny mewls as he pushed on, your wet cunt coating him entirely in your sticky essence, easing his entry just a bit.

"Fuck, Miguel, it h-hurts." You whined, the stretch of him both painful and pleasurable as he bullied his way in, his girthy cock plunging through your fluttering walls.

"Shh, I know." He rarely cooed as he did now, reassuring you with gentle noises and tender touches as he eased into you, balls deep in your core, “Look how good you’re doing for me. S’good.” A fresh wave of arousal dripped from you at his praise, your fluttering cunt allowing him to push and pull as he pleased.

He began a steady rhythm, holding your hips tightly to work you over his length, muttering to himself all the while as he watched how your creamy juices clung to his cock and covered his skin.

The pain quickly subsided into blinding pleasure. Miguel had you mewling into your mattress, your eyes rolling and drool slipping past your lips, your back impossibly arched, and your swollen cunt wetter than it’s ever been. The slapslapslap of his hips against your ass was loud in the quiet of your bedroom, your moans even louder when he skillfully hit something inside you that made you see stars every single time.

You loved the feel of him, loved the stretch of his cock, loved how your cunt would ache for days after as if to remember him.

“Coño,” Miguel growled, keeping a large hand on your lower back to keep you steady in your arched position, “you sound so pretty when I fuck you.” He suddenly gripped your hair, pulling you up as he curved over you, continuing to spill filth into your ears.

It was too much.

“M-Miguel, I’m g-gonna—”

“Cum for me.”

That was it. The dam burst within you, your eyes rolling back as you cried out, cunt spasming and gushing all over him.

“That’s it,” he muttered, sloppily thrusting into your tightening core, “good girl.”

“Miguel,” you continued to whine, grinding against him, “Fuuuck, I love you.”

You didn’t even realize what you said until it was too late, so wrapped up in the bliss of it all that your mouth worked faster than your brain could think.

You froze when you felt him still above you. He released your hair, bringing his hand back to your hips before gripping them viciously, chasing his own release. He rammed into you faster, slamming his hips against your ass one final time before letting out a guttural groan deep from within the confines of his chest. You could only imagine how he looked: tan skin glistening, chocolate hair plastered against his brow and head tossed back in pleasure.

Miguel said nothing as he gently removed his cock from your aching sex, letting his seed dribble out from you and soak into the sheets.

As soon as you turned around he was already in his suit, pushing a few buttons on his watch before he brought his wine-colored eyes to you.

"I have to go."

“Mig?” You whispered his name softly, your naked body burning with embarrassment, “I-I’m sorry I—”

"I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was the same thing he always said, but it hurt twice as much. It was as if he were on autopilot, disconnected from what just happened.

You felt your heart plummet into your stomach as you watched Miguel leave through your window with a speed he usually reserved for missions.

His spend caked your thighs. There was so much of it coming out of you, more so than usual, his cum ruining your sheets enough that you’d need to change them before bed.

You sniffled, eyes watering, tears threatening to fall. He didn’t even kiss your hand goodbye.

You ripped yourself away from the soiled sheets, stomping over to your window as his cum leaked down your inner thighs before slamming it closed, locking it for good.

...

“You made this?” Miles exclaimed with a mouth full of spaghetti, clumsily twirling another forkful over his paper plate. You were handing out some of the spiders' leftover Pomodoro pasta from the previous night. You’d lost your appetite. It’d be a shame if you let it all go to waste.

“Yeah, eat up, there’s enough for everyone.” You scooped out more pasta from a Tupperware and onto a paper plate for Gwen. The younger girl’s eyes sparkled as she grabbed the plate, immediately slurping up a bite.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, lips covered in red sauce, “why are you working at the Spider Society when you could be a chef?”

“It’s because Miguel begged her to work here,” Miles quipped, a lone spaghetti hanging from his mouth.

“And who told you that?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Uhh,” his eyes flew over to Peter B., who was waiting patiently for his own plate of pasta to be served. You turned and narrowed your eyes at Peter, who chuckled nervously.

“Listen,” he began, hands thrown up in surrender, “the kid got curious, okay? He was convincing, I mean, look at those eyes.” You huffed, snatching Peter’s plate and loading it up with pasta.

“You guys are annoying,” you muttered with no bite, shifting your gaze toward Hobie, who sat quietly with his legs thrown up on the table, “Hobie, fuck the government and all that, but you need to get your dirty boots off the table if you want some food.”

Hobie sighed dramatically, letting his boots drop to the ground.

“Fine, boss lady.”

Satisfied, you handed him a plate.

“So, let’s talk about you being a chef?” Gwen tried again, scrapping the remaining bits off her plate.

“It’s just pasta,” you shrugged, pulling out a chair and taking a seat, “anyone can make a Pomodoro.”

“My dad can’t.”

“…why?”

“He’s Irish.”

“And a bloody cop,” Hobie interjected, twirling his pasta with a plastic fork, “hate those.”

“Here we go,” Gwen huffed, the beginnings of an argument forming. You chose to ignore them, letting Gwen, Miles, and Hobie bicker between themselves.

You squirmed in your seat, crossing your legs to cure the throbbing within. You could still feel Miguel, the stretch of his cock, and the inevitable ache that lingered afterward. You were still full of him, your cunt wet even hours later, plaguing you with the thought of never feeling him again.

You drummed your fingers over the messy table littered with paper plates and napkins, your body hunched forward, lost in thought.

“So…” Peter began, adjusting the collar of his pink robe, “you gonna tell me what’s going on or am I gonna have to force it outta you?” You whipped your head to look at him, brows furrowed as you regarded him.

“What makes you think something’s going on?” You whispered, hoping the cafeteria was loud enough so the rest of the table wouldn’t hear.

“Something’s going on or you wouldn’t be whispering,” Peter whispered back, his blue eyes pinned to yours as he searched for answers.

“It’s nothing.” You answered quickly, continuing to squirm in your seat, fighting to ignore your achy cunt.

“Did you guys finally smooch?” You froze, your hands gripping the edge of the table with a force that made your knuckles go white.

“Peter, what the fuck are you talking about?” You hissed, watching him happily eat his Pomodoro.

“You think I don’t know?” He challenged, “It might not be obvious to everyone else but I know what’s going on.” He winked at you, dabbing a napkin messily over his mouth.

Your heart was pounding, ready to beat out your chest, but you schooled your features as best you could. You swallowed thickly, crossing your arms over your chest as if to make yourself smaller.

“Okay, fine, you know. What of it?”

“Miguel’s being mopey.”

“Mopey?” You snorted, shaking your head, “He’s always mopey, isn’t he?”

“This is a different kind of mopey,” Peter raised a brow, “it’s actually kind of… frightening.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s got nothing to do with us, for once. Usually one of us pisses him off enough to throw things but he’s on a mission. Said he needed to clear his head. So what happened?” You sighed, shoulders sagging.

“I might have said something I wasn’t supposed to last night.”

“What?”

“We made a deal,” you explained in a whisper, “no feelings, just…you know,” you wiggled your fingers, hoping it would be enough of an explanation. Peter nodded, urging you to continue, “Well, I messed up.”

“How?”

“ItoldhimIlovehim.” You blurted out, your hands flying over your mouth. Peter blinked with a subtle tilt of his head, before a grin stretched over his lips. You groaned, now covering your eyes, “W-what is that, why are you smiling? Stop it.”

“I mean, one of you had to say it first.”

“Peter, you’re killing me here.” He rolled his eyes, inching close enough till your knees brushed against his.

“You don’t think the big guy feels the same way?”

“No!” You squeaked incredulously, “There’s no way. You should’ve seen him yesterday. He could barely look at me!”

“You caught him off guard.”

“I know that, but he still could’ve said something. Anything.”

“He’s a guy. Guys are stupid.” You groaned, pushing your hair out of your face. You turned to look at the other spiders. You knew they’d been listening given the way they all turned away immediately.

“Someone is stupid,” you muttered to Peter, feeling dejected, “and it’s definitely not him.”

...

You took a deep breath before placing your watch over the sensor.

The door to Miguel’s office didn’t budge, not to your surprise. Lyla must have blocked the systems again.

What were you even doing there?

You hadn’t seen Miguel in about a week. That was ample time to inform you he wanted nothing to do with you. You couldn't blame him but still, it was…unprofessional. He was your boss at the end of the day.

Maybe you shouldn’t have started fucking the head of the Spider Society. Your weak heart wouldn’t be in shambles if you didn’t.

It was a stupid move, you knew, telling someone you love them in the throes of passion when they clearly weren’t on the same page, unprovoked or not. He probably hates you. He must.

You’d given yourself enough time to think it through and given yourself so many pep talks before deciding a professional relationship with Miguel was for the best. No more friends with benefits.

No more keeping your window unlocked.

You took a breath and tried again. No luck.

Did he fire you? That couldn’t be right. You were still in the system and able to enter HQ with your keycard just fine.

“You’re always catching him at a bad time,” Lyla sighed beside you, whipping out her tiny little holographic phone, “he didn’t even want to take a photo! Unbelievable!” The small image on her screen revealed a snarling Miguel, clearly unamused by the bunny filter plastered over his face. It was cute, even if he looked a bit terrifying baring his fangs.

Lyla shifted to face you, hands on her little hips as she looked you up and down.

“You look niiice,” she quickly snapped a photo of you, “no cute filter needed.”

“Uhh, thanks?”

“Now it’s your turn to say something nice to me.” The Ai grinned when you rolled your eyes.

“You look…extra yellow today, Lyla.”

“Thank you! I’m in default mode.”

“Okay, so I’ll just come back later then?” You rushed to leave but Lyla stopped you, zapping in front of you suddenly.

“Nah, I’ll let you in.” You could hear the door to Miguel’s office opening, “Fix him.”

“What? How am I supposed to do that?”

Lyla shrugged, “I dunno, I just know you’re the only one that can.” She waved farewell, disappearing in a glimmer of gold.

You groaned, dropping your head in your hands for a moment to collect your thoughts. Your palms began to sweat—they always did when you were nervous—so you quickly wiped them over your black pencil skirt before facing the office entryway.

It was dark as usual, the only light illuminating the area was Miguel’s bright yellow screens. They hung above him as he sat slouched in his chair, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His head turned lazily to regard you.

“I heard you’ve been mopey.” You began, cracking a smile when he snorted. He shook his head, watching you slowly approach him like one would a wounded animal. He didn’t confirm nor deny the accusation.

“What do you need?”

“To talk to you.” You said, finding the courage to step into his space, leaning back against his desk and blocking one of the yellow screens.

“About?”

“Us.” Miguel hummed, running a hand through his messy hair. He sat up in his chair but said nothing else, allowing you the space to speak freely.

“I-I wanted to apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable,” you began to fumble with your fingers, unable to keep eye contact with him for very long, “I know that what I said was…crossing the line—”

“Did you mean it?” He asked abruptly, the question forcing your eyes away from your fingernails and toward his chiseled face. He looked exhausted, eyes heavy but swimming with curiosity.

“W-well, I mean, it was a moment of—”

“Did you mean it?” He repeated, his tone stern as he awaited a proper answer from you. You bit your lip, slowly nodding your head.

“Yeah. I did. Still do.”

The silence that stretched wasn’t very long but it felt like an eternity. Miguel only stared at you, his jaw tight as he sat forward, his elbows resting on his toned thighs.

You wished you could read his thoughts, take a peek at what ran through his mind. He was always so good at hiding his emotions, never showing an ounce of what he felt. That wasn’t always the case but after Gabriella, he didn’t show much of anything.

“I think it’s best we don’t see each other anymore,” you finally concluded, crossing your arms, “we should stop.”

“What?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed, “What do you mean stop?” He was towering over you in a matter of seconds, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. Your heart was pounding, your hands flying to grip the edge of his desk.

“Mig, we can’t keep doing this.”

“Yes, we can.” He caged you in his arms, bringing his face just a few inches away from yours. He never had much of a problem with eye contact, but you did. You chose to look at his collarbones and the large swoop of his shoulders. It was intimidating and arousing all at once and you weren’t getting anywhere with this speech, were you?

“We can’t. Not when we’re not on the same page.”

“Who says we’re not?” You felt his fingers graze the side of your face, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. You turned away, squeezing your eyes shut, feeling the familiar prick of tears behind your lids.

“Stop playing with me.” You said, pushing him away with little luck. Miguel shifted slightly at your touch, watching you rub at your eyes.

“I’m not.”

“Then why have you not said anything for a week?” You hissed, the frustration threatening to boil over, “You’ve left me agonizing over this for a week, Miguel!” You wiped furiously at your cheeks, catching a few stray tears. “I’m such an idiot.”

Miguel grabbed your wrists in his hands, yanking them away from your face. His concerned eyes met your wet ones, a frown tugging at his lips.

“Stop.” He demanded, taking your flushed face in his hands and wiping the wet streaks away with his thumbs. “Don’t say that about yourself.” You glared, cheeks puffed and swollen from the pressure of fighting away tears.

“Fine,” you snapped, ignoring the way he stroked your cheeks, “you’re the fucking idiot.”

“I am,” Miguel agreed with a sigh, refusing to release you, “I didn’t know what to say. Thought you might have been lying—don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re pissing me off.”

“I know, beba.” The endearment startled you for a moment, your glossy eyes peering up at him as a rush of excitement settled in your stomach. He’d never used endearing words with you before. It had you stumped for a second before you remembered yourself, your brows furrowing in irritation

“Why would you think I was lying? Mig, I’ve loved you for years, you buffoon!” Miguel loomed closer with every word before he kissed you, silencing you effectively. Your eyes fluttered, your lips unresponsive at first until he coaxed you into a gentle rhythm.

Kissing Miguel was so much softer than you imagined.

You thought he’d be all tongue and teeth, desperate to devour his victim. His kisses were syrupy and deliberate, steady and reassuring. He was taking his time learning the shape of your lips, the plumpness, how perfect they felt molded against his.

“I’m sorry, beba,” he said between kisses, letting you snake your arms around his neck to pull him closer, “perdoname. I’m an idiot.” You hummed in agreement, continuing to assault his lips sweetly. You couldn’t stop kissing him if you wanted to, sneaking your tongue past the seam of his lips to taste more of him.

He growled, tightening his hold on you, allowing you to taste at your leisure. He tasted fresh, like the spearmint gum he always had on hand.

“Perdoname,” he repeated, wanting so desperately for you to forgive his transgressions, slotting himself between your legs.

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” you teased, feeling the familiar ache of arousal blooming in your core, “show me how sorry you are.” Another growl ripped from him, animalistic and provoked. He wasted no time, pushing you down so that your back was flat against his desk and your legs were wrapped around his hips.

He pressed a button beside you and suddenly, the platform began to elevate.

“Mig,” you sat up in a panic, but Miguel only pushed you back down, lifting your skirt up till it pooled over your waist, “w-why are we moving up?”

“Privacy,” he grunted, spreading your legs, running his thumb over the soaked patch of your panties. Your hands scrambled to find purchase on something over the desk, your heart hammering in your chest as the ceiling seemed to loom closer.

“Y-you know I’m scared of heights!” You squealed when the platform came to a jutting halt, squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t even want to think about how high up you were.

“It’s okay,” Miguel purred, gently rubbing your clit through the fabric, “you’re safe, you’re with me, beba, no tengas miedo.”

“M-Mig, please,” you didn’t even know what you were begging for at that point, you just needed something, and whatever that was, he gave to you. You felt him push aside your panties, and you finally spared him a glance, almost choking at the sight of him mesmerized by the sweetness between your legs.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he muttered, slipping a finger through your folds, “you dripping all over my desk.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, easily ripping your panties apart before getting on his knees, “smell s’good.” He muttered, licking a stripe up with his fat tongue, scooping whatever mess you made. He moaned at the taste before completely diving in, eyes closed and large hands keeping your trembling thighs spread for him.

As always, you were a whimpering mess for him, mewling with every precise stroke of his tongue. It was the first time he’d done something like this, and god, it was nothing you could have ever dreamed of.

He moaned into your cunt, the gentle vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. You trembled and whined with every loud slurp of his mouth over your clit, his tongue swiping over your precious bud before working his way down to dip inside your hole.

“Fuck, Miguel,” your hands flew to his hair, your fingers weaving through the thick strands to keep his head in place. He skillfully nipped and licked the surface, lifting his face away slightly to spit into your cunt, watching it run through your puffy folds with lidded eyes before devouring you again.

“You taste fucking amazing,” he groaned, sucking your clit between his lips.

You threw your head back, letting out the prettiest moans for him. You forgot about everything, about where you were and how high up you were from the ground. You couldn’t care less as long as Miguel continued to eat from you like a madman.

You could feel the tension in your abdomen, the clear sign that you were close. Miguel continued to drink from you, slurping obscenely at the fresh arousal that dripped into his mouth.

“Close?” He asked, giving you kitten licks, his hands squeezing your thighs encouragingly.

“God y-yes, so close.” You could feel him smiling against your folds before starting up a vicious rhythm again with his eyes closed.

With a loud cry, you came into his waiting mouth, your back arching and body withering over the table from the overstimulation. Miguel licked and sucked every inch of you, determined to catch every drop of your orgasm.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, releasing your grip from his hair and draping an arm over your eyes. Miguel stood, removing your arm and leaning over your fatigued body. He looked down at you with intense red eyes, his mouth and chin completely covered in your slick. You bit your lip when a smile curved at the edges of his lips before he swooped down to kiss you.

You moaned, completely aroused all over again from your own musky taste on his lips. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, allowing you a proper taste.

“Perdoname.” He begged again over your lips before gently brushing the tip of his nose against yours. You giggled, pushing him away slightly so that you could sit up on your elbows.

“Mm, I don’t know,” you teased, “you’re gonna have to try again.” Miguel shook his head, tapping a button on his watch, and allowing his suit to vanish. You gasped at his sudden nakedness, your eyes glued to his throbbing erection. Miguel grinned, fangs bared, tapping his cock over your sensitive cunt.

You closed your eyes as he immediately pushed in, moaning as he worked himself into your tight channel.

In your euphoric state, you barely registered him grabbing your hand and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles, whispering over your skin. Your ears picked up a few words, some naughty and some sweet, but your heart fluttered and your chest tightened when you caught the last two words before he began pounding into you.

“Te amo.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #atsv #across the spiderverse #spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse

2K notes · View notes

actually-safer-to-kiss · 9 months

Text

The Morning After

Summary: Reader and Spencer are waking up after a big fight the night before.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Angst, Comfort

Content warnings: Relationship troubles

Word count: 1k

You woke up not convinced you had slept. Your eyelids sticking together and sore from the stark morning light must indicate otherwise, right? It stings no matter how often you blink. It’s a similar sting to chlorine and your body clears it out. But no matter how many times you blink, the pain remains.

Normally, Spencer’s hogging the bed, his arms pressed against your back like he was in a casket but sideways while you grip the edge and hope you don’t meet the floor with your nose. Stretching your arm out to feel the other side feels unnatural. No hand ready to grab you and smack your knuckles with a kiss. No grinding teeth that you’ve told him is a sign of stress and he should get checked out.

This all felt worse. Even though Spencer was just in the living room, he still felt too far away. But what’s the right way to deal with that? How does one bounce back from such a brutal night?

Well, you don’t bounce back. You take it slow. You pick yourself up from the pillows, your body aching like a hangover. Sitting upright did not help your headache; the pain between your eyes is strong, recovering from scrunching so violently in the midst of sobbing and yelling. You’re both lucky the neighbors didn’t call the cops.

You sway around the bed, left to right like a stiff pendulum. In the doorway, you see your boyfriend. His hair is a moppy mess. He's got a fresh dark roast in his hands, and it takes all his concentration to bring it to his lips. It’s almost precious if you didn’t remember you’re partially responsible for putting him in that state. You watch him sip slowly, the heat hits his skin and he remains unfazed. He pulls it away.

“Morning.” You croak out. You push yourself out of the doorway as you wrap yourself tight in your robe.

His face turns to you as he considers another sip. “Morning.” He puts his cup on the end table. “There’s… uh there’s plenty more. If you want any.”

You nod, crossing your arms close to your chest. Even though you don’t waste time grabbing the hot pot and plenty of creamer, your mind concentrates on the feeling of eyes pressing into your back. The sound of the leather shifting with his weight, maybe he was watching to make sure you weren’t walking out (like you may or may not have threatened to do last night). When you turn around though, he does too, he knows you saw it.

Because you know what to do.

You walk to the couch, taking the side opposite as you take two gulps of your beverage, ignoring the semi-sweet liquid’s heat. You settle in with your cup close by while Spencer occupies himself with his own hands like he’s been called to the principal’s office.

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

A third sip. “Yeah, probably best.” You eventually put your cup down after another eager drink. Your magazines were arranged on the table in front of you, labeled by issue. And not just that, but the books that were once sprawled on the floor were put back neatly on the shelves, in their intended alphabetical order. You pause at the sight. “You… wait, you cleaned up last night?”

Spencer coughed to pretend he wasn't so tired, saying "Yeah. I couldn’t sleep, so I figured, you know, why not?” He equipped the rhetorical question with a shrug.

You rub your face. It all hurts. “I didn’t mean to back into the shelf. I hope you know that.”

“I know.”

“Good, okay.” The silence is thick. Expected, but still daunting. The chest pain that comes with holding your breath so sternly is not something you thought of before. And you wish it would go away. So you start it. “Do you want to go first, or would —”

“I’m sorry.” Spencer interrupts.

“Huh?”

“I’m really sorry. What I said, it was out of line.”

You sigh. The relief of it all (or part of it, the rest will come in time) pours out with one exhale. Your lungs still feel the ache, but again, in due time. “Me too. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have retaliated the way I did.”

Spencer’s lips pull into a smile as his head falls back. “Okay. Good.” He swallowed. “Good.”

You don’t waste time taking up space between you. Your knees touch as you reach out to brush his cheekbones with your knuckles. You move further up and rub the redness around his eyes. They match yours. So you know the area is sensitive. Spencer, however, looks up at the ceiling as you touch it. Soon though, he takes your hand and presses a kiss to the skin. “Not as sloppy as I usually am."

“It’s okay.” Your grip tightens in his. “I think we both need to rehydrate.”

“And sleep more,” Spencer said.

“That sounds nice.” You slip out of Spencer’s hold and comb his hair back with your fingers, clearing them from his face. “Want to go back to bed?”

Spencer’s face scrunches and readjusts in his seat, rubbing his shoulder blade against the couch’s back. “I don’t think I can. It’s not easy to turn comfortably here.”

“You don't have to sleep on the couch.”

Spencer looked back at you. “Really? You sure?”

“You deserve a decent sleep in your own bed.”

Before Spencer has a chance to protest, you’ve picked yourself up from the couch and started pulling him up by the wrists. Despite his weary state, he followed you and stood up himself. You tugged his arm to the bedroom, to the sweet relief of a mattress, pillows, and potential cuddles. Spencer however tugs back, and he brings you into a soft hug. His head on your shoulder, his arms linking together to cage you into the warmth of his body. You gladly (and sleepily) follow by putting your arms around his neck. And you stay there. For a while.

2K notes · View notes

wheeboo · 18 days

Text

big spoon, little spoon | boo seungkwan

SYNOPSIS. in which ask your boyfriend if he wants to be big spoon or little spoon. PAIRING. boo seungkwan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. kissing (in the dark lmao), one curse word, terms of endearment, just boo being rlly affectionate :< WORD COUNT. 1.2k

requested from anon: congrats on 2k lovely!!! ❤️❤️❤️ for ur event may i please req seungkwan + #6 list one? thank u ahhhhh and congrats again - #6: "I don't think I have ever felt safer than in your arms."

notes: thank u my love !! i hope u enjoy <3 i had too much fun writing this pls 😭😭

join the 2k celebration!

"Okay, so big spoon or little spoon tonight?"

Seungkwan just freezes from where he stood in the bathroom doorway, toothbrush still dangling at his lips with bits of foam at the corners of his mouth. You're literally staring at him like you're waiting for him to answer and that it wasn't actually a rhetorical question.

"Are you asking me𑁋okay, wait." He marches back into the bathroom to hastily spit and rinse out his mouth, before coming back out with determination in his step. "Are you asking me if I want to be big spoon or little spoon?"

There's a playful lift to your lips as you sit down on the edge of his bed, and Seungkwan can very much see that slight mischievous look to your features. He can already feel the heat of the moment shoot up towards his ears, and he prays that the room is dark enough to hide it.

"Yeah, I am. Since, you know, we always sorta switch around every day," You say, nodding with a teasing grin. "And, well... I'm being considerate, as your partner and all. I gotta know all your preferences..."

God, Seungkwan feels like he's sinking into quicksand at his feet. Are you really at his place every day? He hardly ever thought about how often you were here, like how these nightly rituals had practically become routine now. He swears his heart does a little happy flip-flop at the thought.

It all started with movie night dates that bled into you two eating breakfast together, dinner dates that turned into you helping wash dishes at three in the morning, and then that particular comfortable silence that settled completely at this point. Every day, there always seems to be another reason for you to stay a little longer, another excuse to linger until the streetlights cast an orange glow through his curtains.

And Seungkwan knows he won't ever get tired of it𑁋he won't ever get tired of having you around. Not now. Not anytime soon. Not ever.

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling whatever embarrassment he had in his chest start to dissipate and replaced by a rush of warmth.

"Okay, well, as your very considerate and caring boyfriend..." He crosses his arms together. "what do you prefer?"

You purse your lips together, as if deep in thought. You didn't mind being either little or big spoon, but the thought of Seungkwan having his arms around you right now𑁋if you could describe it𑁋felt like being wrapped by a warm cloud, a feeling of pure, weightless security that chases away all possible worries.

But it isn't just about the comfort, although it's certainly a big part of it. It was the feeling of being safe and cherished, completely enveloped in his embrace. It was the feeling of home.

A slow smile graces across your face.

"I'll take little spoon," You answer gleefully, already crawling more onto his bed and tucking yourself under the covers with a little wiggle. Whatever façade Seungkwan had been putting up crumbles completely at the sight. A blush creeps up his neck, barely visible in the dim light, but his smile widens.

He chuckles softly as he joins you on the bed, slipping under the covers beside you. After flicking the lampshade off, he carefully maneuvers himself right beside you until he feels your warmth hit his skin. Then he slowly circles his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to his body, with your back meeting his chest. A low, contented hum leaves his lips as he simply holds you.

You wriggle in slightly, and he adjusts his hold, letting an arm curve over your stomach and the other one under your body to pull you even closer, fingers momentarily brushing against the hem of your shirt. You feel your legs entangle together under the blanket, and you swear the world gets smaller, quieter.

Seungkwan thinks you fit perfectly in his arms; it's like you've always belonged there.

"Comfortable?" he asks, voice muffled against you.

Your chest rises up and down with a soft sigh. "Mhm..."

The moments that pass are purely silence as he continues to hold you. You could probably fall asleep at this second, yet you feel the way Seungkwan's hand drifts lower from your waist, tracing gentle circles on the fabric of your shirt above your stomach. It's light, just barely there, but it sends a shiver down your spine nonetheless.

And then you feel him moving around behind you, breath tickling your skin, before his lips press a brief, tender kiss to the nape of your neck.

Maybe you can sense the small smile to his face right afterwards, too.

"You're so soft," he mutters, but there's a bit of tentativeness to his tone.

Your heart squeezes tightly in your chest. "I𑁋Aren't we supposed to be trying to sleep?"

"Sorry," Seungkwan apologises, but you can still hear the smile in his voice. He presses another gentle kiss to your neck, then draws back, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly. "Just like holding you like this."

The giggle that leaves you is shaky, nervous, as if there's a small, timid butterfly trapped in your ribcage struggling to take flight. He can probably hear the way your heart is pounding like a damn drum right now, but he doesn't comment on it. Thank goodness.

A thought crosses your mind, and it takes you a minute to cave into flipping yourself over to face him. A groan escapes him from the sudden change in position, but he quickly settles. The two of you can't really see each other that well since the room was basically suspended in darkness, but you can clearly feel his presence beside you, all comforting and familiar.

"I like being held by you too," You confess quietly, each syllable laced with your own hesitancy. "I... I don't think I have ever felt safer than in your arms, to be honest."

The sound of Seungkwan's breath hitching echoes throughout the room. Are the walls closing in? He's not hallucinating or imagining any of this, right? He wishes he could pinch himself, but he's busy holding you, and you're the only thought filling his mind right now.

He leans in closer, ever so slowly. He can see the faint outline of your face thanks to the sliver of moonlight cutting through the curtains.

But just as his lips are about to meet yours, you feel a sudden contact at the tip of your nose. You flinch a little, scrunching your nose up for a second, and Seungkwan pulls back immediately with a gasp.

"Oh my go𑁋did I just𑁋" He stammers frantically, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, uh..."

"Baby," You call out affirmingly, aimlessly bringing a hand up to cup his face through the darkness. Then you lean in to press a kiss to his lips, or specifically... the corner of his mouth. Close enough, anyway. "There we go."

Seungkwan just blinks, eyelashes batting furiously as he feels you shrink back into his hold. This time, you place your head at the crook of his neck, breathing fanning against his skin and making him shiver in your hold, even though he's supposed to be the big spoon.

"Let's go to sleep," You murmur lowly, and if he wasn't used to how pretty your voice sounds when you're tired by now, he should really get his shit together.

And so, Seungkwan just secures his hold around you, but not before mouthing a set of three words that he knows you can't see in the darkness, but hopes you can feel in his embrace.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziesmei @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit @bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @tanya596carat @starshuas @etherealyoungk

347 notes · View notes

unluckilyimnot · 2 months

Text

A blush and try to hide but B take their before they can

Sae x reader

Fluff

m.list

request are open, take a look at the rules if you're new here :)

I hope you enjoy!

Sae was really talkative for once, not that he rarely talks around you - you literally live together - but it was still something that doesn't happen as often as you prefer to admit. He just got on some new exercises and he felt the need to talk about it to his s/o. Sweet.

Little did he know, you were focusing on something else at the moment, which happened to be another thing he doesn't do much : cooking without his shirt on. Like, you get that it's the middle of the summer, that it's really hot in Japan during this period and that cooking makes you hot even more. On another day, you could easily pass through it and listened to him mindlessly. Today wasn't one of them.

You were a little too busy scanning the way his muscles tense at each move, noticing new ones every once in a while and you kinda were fascinated by it.

But he's not an idiot. He knows you’re the talkative one, so once he noticed your lack of answer he stole a glance behind him, and found you mesmerized by his back.

"Are you even listening to me," he asked rhetorically, not turning around yet.

"I am." your voice is low, you answered in a dreamy way which is enough to know that you weren’t.

"Quote me what I just said ?" Turning around to face you, you don’t look up immediately to answer. Instead you replied with another question.

"More importantly, did you always have that scar on your smaller back ? I've never seen it before..." escaping your zone out state when you realized you weren’t looking at the same thing anymore, you catch his blue eyes piercing throughout your body like she just did. He was leaning on the counter, waiting for you to snapped out.

"I do. I got it from a fight with Rin. Another question ? Or can you answer mine ?" You were left speechless and you mouth opened. Sometimes you forget how handsome he is. By the time you took to answer, he already guessed you won’t answer. Taking a few steps to meet you, both his hands laid on the counter you were sitting on. He tilt his head, his hand a little too close to your thight.

"Next time, ask your question then listen to me. Alright ?" His tone is commanding and you couldn't help but get turned on.

You could feel a hot feeling on her cheeks but wasn't ready to face him or the truth. Turning your face away, ashamed of your body’s reaction,and you nodded. You were quite sure you would get away with it yet you soon felt slander fingers grabbing your chin and turning it right to face him again. His eyes staring deep into your soul making you shiver.

"Understand ?" He asked once again, not breaking eye contact.

"Yes."

"Good." With that, he pecked your lips, moving on and getting back to cook while you were still processing what just happened.

I'M CRAZY ABOUT THIS MAN YOU DON'T GET IT. ask anything I'll do it. Pls request stuff or hc about bllk

#blue lock x reader #blue lock #blue lock headcanons #blue lock hc #bllk x reader #bllk hc #bllk #bllk fluff #sae x reader #sae fluff #sae hc #sae itoshi

301 notes · View notes

lust444men · 1 month

Text

forever 'n' ever.

we don't have enough soft rafe in this fandom. (cuz he hardly exists, but I be changing that I fear.) the song i imagined during this is Present by Lloyd Vaan, and I recommend you listen (don't have to ofc) for the experience! js fluff fr, insecure reader?, weed mentions, yall r high ig. my own work got me emotional ngl guys

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

you were led with Rafe, his room dark, the only light emitting was from his tv, which was playing a slow, mellow song. unusual from rafes usual taste - but he preferred these songs when he was high. your hazy eyes stayed trained on the ceiling, lost in your own thoughts as your chest rose and fell with soft breaths, the weed making your body heavy.

he offered you the blunt, noticing your lack of presence, even though you were right there, with him. where he felt you belonged the most. he put out the blunt, putting it in the ashtray before turning on his side, caressing your face gently. "what're you thinking 'bout, baby?" his voice so soft, stripped of its usual harshness. only you saw him like this. heard him like this. he has that trust with you, knowing you won't judge him.

you hum softly before you shook your head, not looking at him as you pushed all your attention to the ceiling. "nothin'." you whispered, taking in a deep breath, and letting it out slowly through your nose as your mind ran a million thoughts. Does he even like me? Am I more than a body to him? Is it just sex?

"Liar," he mumbled, gently sliding his finger down your nose, much like you would to a baby, before going over your cheeks, just under your eyes. He had always found your eyes the most beautiful thing about you, his favourite part of your face being your lips; a close second to eyes.

He continued, "You have too much of an expressive face for nothing to be going on in that head of yours." oh how well he knew you. every inch of you, and your mind. you loved and hated it, wishing for one second he wouldn't notice everything, but thankful for every minute he spent analysing you.

you still didn't look at him, staring up at the ceiling solemnly, with a hint of sadness. how worried you were that this was just fun to rafe. and it wasn't as serious to him as it is to you. that he didn't love you as hard as you loved him.

"It's...not important." you whispered, biting the inside of your cheek. something you didn't do often — he knew that. "cmon. s'important to you, means it's important to me." he spoke softly, his finger trailing along your jawline with the gentlest of touches. he loved your face, your freckles, the slight scarring from childhood falls, god. he wished he could always stare at you.

"Are..you serious about me?" you whispered, not able to bring yourself to look at him, you knew it'd hurt — no, devastate you if you saw any sign of hesitation. "What am I to you?" you added in a soft voice, licking your bottom lip before biting it, the slow song only a distant sound as your heartbeat drummed its own song in your ears.

"Everything." fell from him before he could even properly register the question. he stared at you, wondering how you could ask that. he wasn't mad — not at all. we all have our doubts. but did you not see the way he looked at you? felt the way he touched you?

he gently grabbed your chin, pulling your face to him, seeing how your eyes are glassy, and judging by how the tip of your nose is pinking, it's not from the weed. "you — you are everything to me, baby. I'm more serious 'bout you than I've ever been with anything." he spoke in a low voice, as if anyone was going to hear him.

"do you mean that? what if you could find better?" you asked, attempting to look away, hoping your body wouldn't betray you and let him see you cry. "why would I leave something so perfect, so — so amazing, just for the impossibility of better?" he asked, clearly rhetorical. you sniffled, and he brought his thumb to your cheek, wiping away a tear.

"cmere." He whispered, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his chest, where his heart was beating quickly. "y'feel that?" "mhm." "it's because of you. everytime I'm around you, or — or even see a picture of you, my heart races like a fuckin' boyscout seeing a bear." he smiled once he heard your tear filled giggle, your hand drifting up to around his neck, pulling him closer to so you can rest your head on his chest. his arms immediately wrapped around your waist, pulling you tight against him.

"I love you, rafe." you whispered, smoothing a hand over the nape of his neck.

"I love you more, baby."

282 notes · View notes

prettynice8 · 5 months

Text

Kinkmas Day 1: Rimming

Paring: Kakashi Hatake x male reader

This guy

Warnings: Rimming DUH, anal fingering, teasing, slight begging, little bottom twinky fuck me daddy feminine male reader, no actual sex, enemies to lovers? I think that's it

Word Count: 1,307

Fuck him. Fuck his pretty silver hair that I just want to run my hands through while he eats my ass, his muscular form that must have been crafted by the sage of six paths himself, his beautiful attention catching eye, his mysterious mask, his (what I hope is) insanely large dick. Just fuck the whole thing (I wish).

Of course, the only person you could be thinking of is the one and only Kakashi Hatake, copy ninja of the leaf, and the hottest mother fucker to ever exist. Oh god did you have an obsession with him. Having wet dream after wet dream about him, screaming his name while masturbating, and it doesn't help that you catch him staring at you all the time almost as much as he catches you staring at him.

This whole obsession started a month ago when you saw him reading one of his goddamn sex books in the middle of the street. You walked over to him and asked why he was reading erotica in a VERY public place, and he just looked at you "Because it's hot." he stated matter-of-factly. The nerve of some people, from then on you two would see each other walking around, say hi, go your respective ways. It's been that way ever since; stolen glances and fuck me eyes since.

Until now. You were done with man after man not fulfilling you like you think he may be able to, maybe, it's a complete guess but he just gives off the vibe. Anyway, you saw him reading his demented sex shit again when you decided to make your fantasies a reality once and for all. You walk behind the bench he was sitting on and read the words on the page and HOLY SHIT IT'S GAY RIMMING. You mentally scream into the pillow like a 15-year-old girl who just found out her crush is available, which is kind of like what's going on.

"Uhm, can I help you?" Kakashi questions in his horny inducing voice, with a little annoyance sprinkled in through all the underwear wetting.

"Oh sorry, am I disturbing a public jack off sesh." You coldly state with a smirk on your face, hand doing a little masturbation gesture.

"Do you mind." he says rhetorically, the twinge of annoyance from earlier much more noticeable now.

"If you didn't want someone to talk to you then why are you reading 'that' on a public bench in the middle of the street again?" you sassily question.

"Because I wanted to read outside, privately." He answers, you look at him like he's the dumbest man in the whole world.

"Then why, in the absolute fuck, are you reading in the street you attention whore." you rhetorically ask, the previous sass now developed into genuine frustration as you walk around the bench to be right in front of him.

"That's cute coming from you." he chuckles.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" you ask.

"Don't act dumb, you have been trying to get into my pants for weeks now." he exclaims, you start to blush, ensuring that what he said is true.

"Don't act so high and mighty with me. I've seen you look at me too bitch." you state. He stands up, his large frame completely dwarfing you, his eyes almost angry. You do a cartoonish and audible gulp, the fear enhancing the horniness.

It's quiet for a while until he leans down,

"And what of it" he whispers in your ear and grabs you ass tightly, not caring if anyone sees. You let out a soft yelp at the sudden sign of attraction. You're completely stunned, not knowing what to do. He realizes this and before you can think any more, he holds you close and grabs your ass tighter and whispers,

"My place." It wasn't even a question or a request, it was a demand. One that even given the choice you wouldn't say no to.

Before you know it you're already on your way to Kakashi's place. He's giving you a piggyback ride to save time, and because he wants that juicy cake as quickly as possible, his mind is going crazy with your legs wrapping around him.

Finally, you make it to his place and immediately you both rush into his room. Right when you both enter you get off his back and onto the bed. Your legs spread as he takes off both your pants and underwear and tosses them both to the side.

"Now, turn around and bend over." already making demands and he hasn't even bought you dinner yet, not that you care because without a single moment of hesitation you are already on your hands and knees.

Without warning he immediately put his long skilled digit into your readily awaiting hole. He moves slowly as he starts to open you up. All the while you let out quiet moans.

"Your little moans are so cute." he said. Suddenly you feel a second finger enter you. He stays at the same excruciatingly slow pace. While he's pumping his fingers, he starts to feel the rest of your ass, rubbing it sensually and squeezing at the sensitive skin.

He puts in the third finger and his speed starts to pick up. Now your moans start to get louder as his three fingers stay at a steady and quick speed. He pumps them in and out over and over with precise repetition.

his fingers start to curl inside you, twisting and turning inside you perfectly. It's at this point that you are officially a moaning mess. The all too familiar feeling churns into your stomach. His fingers start turning and hitting your sweet spot consistently.

Then the feeling of relief washes over you as his fingers twist and hit your spot for the final time. You let out a loud moan and crash into the bed, cumming without even him putting his dick in you.

But he wasn't satisfied with just feeling inside you as he picked you up and brought you to your hands and knees again.

"Not yet sweetheart." he says as he starts to rub and massage your ass cheeks, caressing them to his desire. He gives you a quick and sharp spank, you cry out in pleasure from the surprise as he watches you ass jiggle in awe.

He puts his mask down and licks your ass, putting small and harmless love bites from time to time. Each lick and bite getting closer and closer to your hole. You start begging him to just devour you already. "Please, god I've fantasized about this please." you cry out, wanting, no, craving for his tongue.

"Well since you asked so nicely." he calmly states, though you can tell the excitement in his voice, aware that he wants this too. He licks lines on your cheek until FINALLY taking small licks on your entrance. Your spine chills in anticipation and pleasure and your breathing becomes shaky.

He licks languid circles on your entrance slowly. His hands are still caressing the rest of your ass. Your legs are shaking due to the stimulation and your cock is as hard as can be. He stops his simple licking and finally puts his tongue in your ass.

It starts off slowly but develops quickly into a fast pace, his tongue going in and out of you. You are now officially a moaning mess as his tongue is assaulting your hole. He continues this and then starts to put his fingers back in your hole while his mouth is still doing its job.

The familiar feeling in your stomach starts to build up again as his talented hands and mouth works on your asshole. Your moans crescendo until finally you climax for the second time of the night.

And you're not done yet.

THE END

#naruto #naruto x reader smut #naruto x reader #naruto x male reader #naruto x male reader smut #x reader #x male reader #anime x reader #x male reader smut #x reader smut #anime x reader smut #anime x male reader smut #kakashi #kakashi smut #kakashi x reader #kakashi x male reader smut #kakashi x male reader #kakashi x reader smut

221 notes · View notes

rafesapologist · 10 months

Text

the set up — rafe cameron; part four

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you've been one of the pogues since childhood, and your loyalty has always lied within your friend group, who is practically your family. when a threat by the name of rafe cameron begins to threaten the pogue's plans, they assign you to gain the trust of the dubious kook and keep an eye on what he's up to. however, now it's been six months since your friends set you up to spy on the kook prince himself, but what you didn't anticipate was to fall head over heels for the boy. your relationship had soon become inviolable shortly after your guys' first exchanges, much to your friends' dismay, and you two became practically inseperable. that was, until rafe discovers the truth.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴(𝘀): cussing, mentions of violence, kind of fluff, lil bit of angst but not much.

author's note: so so sorry for this taking a few days to upload! i've been out of town all weekend and was getting ready for the eras tour concert i went to! i tried to write while i was at the hotel but it just wasn't happening (alcohol might've taken a part in that but anyways), regardless we're back and i'm excited to write for u guys again :)

It was Friday night and your heart was racing. Although you weren't entirely sure why you felt so queasy, you boiled it down to the fact that you were going to be spending the night surrounded by a bunch of Kooks. You realized ahead of time that you were going to feel completely out of place amongst the upper class clique, a group of people totally different than you. Truth was, you were a Pogue through and through. You resided on the south side of the island, also known as The Cut. A majority of the time you were with your friends at the chateau, hanging on the hammock with JJ, taking bikes to see the ocean, and maybe even at the boneyard, but in no ways was any aspect of your life as opulent as a Kooks', or even close to it.

Your first impression even matched your identity, a dead giveaway that you were undeniably a Pogue. In any other circumstance you would have embraced what position you were born into, but if you wanted to win over Rafe Cameron's heart, and trust, you were going to have to put in some substantial amount of effort to get to that point. Therefore, when the opportunity to go on a 'date' with Rafe was finally proposed, you went straight to Sarah to lend you the most full Kook outfit she had in her closet.

Despite hating the identity you were trying to hide behind, you had to admit that Sarah's sense of fashion was impeccable. Lucky for you, she dressed you in a sage green square neck gingham mini dress, with a small slit up the thigh that you knew would be observed by Rafe's wondering eyes. You needed this to work at all costs, even if it meant that you were losing part of your dignity by dressing up like a braggart.

"Are you excited?" Sarah asked through the speaker of your phone, her question clearly rhetorical and rather needling.

"I just want to get this over with." You admitted with a whine.

"Well, JJ and Pope are going to be there so it won't be so bad." Your cheerful blond friend encouraged you with a hopeful smile, which had the right intention but seemed to fail at getting you through the circumstances at stake.

"Yeah, that makes it even worse." You grumbled, fumbling with the hooks on your sandals hurriedly.

"C'mon, I know it's Rafe we're talking about but he seems to have some sort of interest in you, so you should be fine." Sarah inspirited your optimism against the obvious signs of uneasiness you had been exhibiting for an hour over the phone.

You sighed, figuring that Sarah truly did have a point. Rafe seemed to have grown some kind of absorption with you since you had started working at the golf course, which essentially was a part of the plan, but you never expected him to grow so fond of you so quickly. Who knew all it took was a short skirt and batting your eyelashes to get Rafe Cameron to fawn over you. Go figure.

"Yeah well- Shit." You were interrupted abruptly by the sound of knocking at your front door. The noise alone was enough to make your stomach turn, as if it wasn't already before. Your body temperature rose once it had settled in your mind that it was more than likely Rafe at the front door, probably waiting impatiently in that damn polo he always wears. In that moment you wanted nothing more than to sneak out your bedroom window and run far away, but that wasn't an option and this date was crucial in order to convince Rafe you were something special.

"What? Is he there?" Sarah asked with confusion at the sound of urgency in your voice.

"Yeah he's at the front door, I think. I gotta go, text you later." You waved off your friend in a hurry before ending the call. You began to scurry around your room in search for your most sweetly-scented perfume, hoping to advance your level of allurement with an aroma that would likely inveigle the nescient boy. You planned on getting him right in the palms of your hands, so you decided on a fragrance of vanilla with hints of gourmand notes.

You felt satisfied with your appearance once you got a glimpse of yourself in your bedroom mirror before you exited the room, thinking to yourself that Rafe was definitely going to have his eyes on you all night, and the thought alone had a fire lighting up in your stomach.

You opened the front door and was immediately met with the sight of the dirty blond Kook, a visual you were slowly starting to become oddly familiar with. Your first reaction was to take in the view as you surveyed his clean-cut appearance, but as your eyes trailed his tall stature, you realized he had been doing just the same back to you. The only difference was that his stare was much more intense with a hint of longing beneath it, and it made you feel small under his gaze as he inspected every inch of your body - especially the exposed portions of it.

"You look beautiful." Rafe acknowledged your graceful presence, silently admiring the way your dress adorned your figure remarkably.

You smiled in return, "You don't look bad yourself, Cameron."

Your comment earned a small smile from the boy, noticing that his cheeks began to blush at the same time.

"Just for you, princess." He teased in response, a remark that sent heat coursing through your entire body. Rafe was notably always making suggestive comments and phrases towards you at any chance he could get, but for some reason, the way his nickname for you rolled off his tongue made you feel like you could melt right then and there.

You followed closely behind him on the way to his car that had been parked in your driveway after quickly saying your goodbye's to your parents, only to be put into a state of shock when you had realized Rafe had opened the passenger door for you to get in. Your heart seemed to flutter once again at his gesture, an act of chivalry that you had never experienced before.

"Thank you." You expressed your gratitude for his actions with a feeble voice as you hopped into the sumptuous-looking car.

"No need to thank me, angel." Rafe expressed much to the liking of the butterflies floating in your stomach.

You watched as the broad blond entered the driver's side door and started the car engine, finding yourself fixated on the prominent veins in his arms and hands as he did so. You had thought to yourself that in that moment, despite all the chaos that surrounded Rafe Cameron, maybe he wasn't as awful to be around as you initially anticipated. Sure he was a bit tempermental at times, but never towards you. Matter of fact, you were quite sure that Rafe wouldn't raise a hand at you, one being because he was gentle with you in every interaction you two had, and two because he wouldn't dare take away his time to fawn over you. He didn't want to be the one to rip that smile off your face that captivated him so much.

You enjoyed the scenic view of the coastal town and all of its serenity, watching out the window as you peered up at the clear night sky above you as the moon lit up all that surrounded you. Perhaps you became a little too entranced in the view, a state of ambedo, since all of the sudden you were brought back into reality by the feeling of a warm hand gently placing itself on the top of your exposed thigh. Your eyes shot down to where the warmth was coming from, your eyes then trailing up from the hand on your leg all the way to Rafe's side profile. It seemed as though Rafe could sense your stare as he instinctively glanced over at you for a brief second, catching your gaze.

"Is this okay?" Rafe asked tenderly, motioning to his hand placement. The innocent gesture creating a moment of kairosclerosis for you, and even a little appreciation towards him. You swore to yourself that if you had told the other Pogues what had just happened within the previous ten minutes, none of them would have believed you. But it was all real, and you were there, experiencing the extent of Rafe's affinity that no one could imagine he had.

"Yeah it's okay." You flashed a small, yet accepting smile at him. Rafe seemed to take note of your assurance as you noticed the tension in his body language relaxed, his fingers sliding further into your inner thigh yet remaining in a place that wasn't too high up for you. It was clear Rafe had an awareness of your boundaries and didn't want to cross them, which you were thankful for.

"So, how does a girl like you end up with people like John B and JJ Maybank? I mean, I know you're a 'Pogue' and all, but those guys are total losers." Rafe inquired, causing you to frown subtly.

"They're still my friends," you defended, "and they've been there for me more than my actual family has." You admitted, your voice falling more quietly as you confessed.

"What do you mean by that?" Rafe questioned as he looked over at you with furrowed brows, contemplating the severity of the situation you were talking about.

"My parents don't care what I'm doing or where I'm at. I basically live at John B's house and the hardly notice when I'm gone," you scoffed to yourself quietly, "I'm in no better position than JJ or John B. Half the time it's like they're the only family I have."

Rafe frowned as you spoke, becoming evident that he was taking in your every word by the way his jaw clenched as you told him about your family situation. You had also noticed that his thumb began to rub against your skin in a soothing manner that sent cold chills throughout your body.

"I'm sorry. I know what it's like to have a kind of fucked up home life." Rafe joked dryly as he eyes stayed glued to the road ahead, his expression turning somber.

"How?" You asked, confused as to how someone as wealthy and affluent as Rafe Cameron could even began to understand the detriments of living in a bad home.

"My dad is a control freak who plays favorites. He always chooses Sarah, everything is always Sarah, Sarah, Sarah. She could run him dry and he'd still treat her like a fucking angel. Me, however, he could care less about unless he wants something done." Rafe groused while his grip on the steering wheel became tighter. You realized the subject of his father struck a nerve somewhere in Rafe, which was a cause for concern. If Ward had been that careless with his son, what was he willing to make him do for him?

You wanted to calm down the ill-tempered boy before you were going to arrive at your destination, mostly because you knew that if he showed up in such a state and spotted one of your friends, you would be screwed.

"Well it's any consolation, at least you have me to understand having a fucked up family." You quipped in the effort to try and make the atmosphere in the car light-hearted again. It seemed to have worked out though, because Rafe started to laugh back at you.

"That's right, at least I'm not a Pogue either." Rafe jested in return.

Your jaw dropped flippantly, pretending as if you were offended by his comment. "Oh, fuck off." You shoved his shoulder lightly.

"Just sayin'." He shrugged, still unapologetically chuckling at his own joke. What an ass. You thought.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The two of you had finally arrived to the park in which the movie was set to play at. You realized upon arrival that practically everyone on the island was there, causing your heart to sink. If there was anything you hated, it was large crowds of people. Your breathing began to fasten as you observed the large quantities of individuals entering the place and taking their seats on the grass in front of the large projector screen. You fiddled with your hands and began picking at your fingernails in order to distract yourself from the anxiety that was brewing within you.

"You okay?" The sound of Rafe's baritoned voice breaking you out of your disassociation.

"Yeah," you replied mousily, "just hate big crowds."

"Well, you'll be with me and if anyone says anything to you I'll handle it myself." Rafe affirmed, lending you a hand to hold as you stepped out of the vehicle.

"Is your first instinct always violence?" You asked.

"Only if someone is messing with you." He smirked, taking your hand gently as he guided you over to the area in which his group of friends were sat.

You watched from behind Rafe as he greeted each one of his fellow Kook friends with handshakes and by dapping them up. The longer you stood and waited for him to introduce you to the rest of them, you could feel the awkwardness killing you internally. The thought of having to meet new people made you went to throw up already, let alone a group of stuck up Kooks who were seemingly intoxicated.

"This is y/n," Rafe finally turned around to acknowledge you, throwing his arms over your shoulders as he held you by his side proudly, "she's one of Sarah's friends."

"Didn't know you were banging your sister's friends now." One of the boys retorted, causing the entire group to snicker in return.

"Yeah yeah, fuck off, Ryan. You were fucking Kelce's sister for like a month." Rafe riposted at the snarky brunette Kook who quickly became quiet and practically mute following the comment.

"You did what?" Kelce asked furiously, glaring over at the other Kook who had his head hung low in order to avoid eye contact, and likely a bigger confrontation.

"Anyways, she's hanging with us tonight so don't be a bunch of dicks." Rafe asserted amongst the group, causing their full attention to advert to him. You were left in shock as you noticed they all obeyed to his demand without further question. You took it as a sign that Rafe was likely the ring-leader type of friend amongst his group of company. You had to admit though, the sight of all those Kooks taking orders from Rafe was humorous.

Eventually, you were able to take a seat next to Rafe on the set of lawn chairs that were scattered across the park. Quite honestly, you weren't paying attention to the movie that had just begun what-so-ever, too caught up in the way you were surrounded by a group of men that you barely knew at all. You tried your best to remain calm and collected in the given situation, trying to keep your attention on the screen in front of you, but your brain simply wouldn't retain any of what was happening on it. Rafe wasn't much help either, as he was too engaged in a conversation with Topper and Kelce to notice your boredom.

Until you heard the sound of someone behind you trying to gain your attention.

"Psst, y/n! Psst, over here!" You heard a familiar voice call out to you in an obnoxiously loud whisper. You quickly turned your head around as your eyes wandered the premise, seeing no sign of where the noise was coming from.

"Y/n, over here!" The voice half- whispeed, half-shouted again. This time guiding you to where exactly the sound was and who it was coming from. JJ.

"What the hell, JJ?" You mouthed in bewilderment, motioning your head over to Rafe who was merely 5 inches apart from you.

"Check your phone!" JJ mouthed back as he pointed down to the phone in his hands. You did as told and seen you had unread messages from your blond friend in your notifications.

*JAY-J <3: had to make sure you were safe from all those damn kooks*

You rolled your eyes at JJ's message, letting out a half-hearted laugh as you looked down at your phone. You had completely forgot who was sitting right next to you until you were caught off-guard by the sound of Rafe's voice interrupting you.

"Everything okay?" Rafe whispered to you as he looked at you with concern, mistaking the noise you made as a sigh instead of a laugh.

"Oh yeah, just breathing." You lied in an attempt to brush Rafe off, but you failed miserably at getting his attention off of you.

"Do you want something to drink? I can go get you anything if you want." He offered, which set off a light bulb in your head and a perfect escape plan to come into mind.

"Actually, I'll go get it," you smiled," I need to stretch my legs anyways, been sitting all day."

"Okay, I'll save your seat for when you get back." Rafe smiled as he watched you stand up from your seat. Part of you felt guilty for lying to the boy, but you needed to see your friend desperately and if you were surrounded by Kooks for any longer, you might have lost your mind.

*Y/N: meet me at the concession stand. i bought some time to get away from rafe for like 10 mins* You texted JJ in a hurry while you hastened over to the concession line. You stood off to the side of the building with your arms cross, standing up on your tip-toes occassionally to try and spot your friends among the sizeable crowd full on Pogues, Kooks, and Tourons.

You were taken by surprise once you felt a pair of hands grab you by the waist from behind, spinning you around to come face-to-face with sight of a blond boy who was a relief to see in that moment.

"JJ!" You squealed once you realized it was none other than your best friend with Pope accompanied beside him. JJ smiled in reaction to your excitement, taking you in once again and spinning you around in the air swiftly. You felt giddy as you felt JJ's hands hold your hips steadily, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck once he had placed you back on the ground.

"Alright guys, enough with the rom-com fest here. Rafe could find us at any moment." Pope interrupted your and JJ's moment of jubilation with his typical panic. You rolled your eyes at his pessimism, although he did have a point. If Rafe were to have spotted your Pogue friends, he might just kill them both.

"Good point." You agreed, taking a step back from JJ's embrace and looking at the two boys standing in front of you as they awaited your response, "I just needed to get away from all those Kooks for a minute. If I had to listen to them talk about Midsummers any longer I was going to drive my head through a wall." You griped.

"Wait, Midsummers?" Pope repeated back at you as though the topic sparked an idea in his mind.

"Yeah, that thing where a bunch of Kooks get together and play dress up." You stated, still in a state of confusion as to what was brewing in Pope's brain, considering he's always coming up with something.

"You should go with Rafe."

"What?" You and JJ both shouted in unison at Pope's absurd request.

"I mean, you wanna gain Rafe's trust right? It would be the perfect opportunity to do so. Meet his family, live like a Kook with him for a night. Plus, you won't even be alone. JJ and I are gonna be working there that night, and Kie and Sarah are still considered as Kooks so you know they're going, too. I don't think it's a bad idea." Pope explained.

"Pope, there's no way in hell she's going to-"

"I'll do it." You cut off JJ just before he could reject Pope's suggestion, causing both of the boys to look at you in disbelief.

"Y/n, what? Do you realize what you'd be getting yourself into?" JJ apprised much against his friend's idea. You knew it was just JJ being his normal stubborn self, but you didn't have time to pay any mind to it. You knew that Pope's idea was the best bet in order for you to work your way into Rafe's life with ease, and so you knew what you'd have to do.

"JJ, I know you're worried and all, but this is our only chance at getting one step closer into whatever fucked up plan Rafe and his dad are conspiring against us. It's either I do this, or we're done for." You pleaded up at the distressed blond who looked down at you with an earnest look in his eyes.

"JJ, she'll be fine. We're all going to be there so you know she won't be alone." Pope added.

JJ sighed in defeat, the realization that you weren't going to back down washing over him. He grazed his hands through his shaggy blond hair as he placed a hand on his hip, "If any of this goes wrong, I'll kill him." He warned.

"Everything is going to be fine, Jay." You reassured, stepping forward to place a quick kiss onto the apple of his cheek. His body seemed to relax some at the gesture, his hands falling to your hips again as he peered down at you.

"I'm serious, y/n. I've already got enough reason to punch that asshole right in his face, let alone if he does something to you."

"He won't. You need to trust me on that, yeah? I can assure you it'll all be fine." You convinced once again, looking over at Pope in hopes he would help the situation, but instead he looked back at the two of you with judgement.

"You guys are strange." Pope added, scoffing at your guys' obvious shared displays of affection. It wasn't abnormal for you and JJ to be so hands-on, especially in a time where JJ was in a state of worry. None of the other Pogues seemed to understand the relationship you and JJ had going on, but they chose not to question to because more than likely, you two barely even knew what was going on.

"Well, who do we have here?"

taglist (if i missed any of u i apologize, pls let me know if u need or want to be added!!): @ellesalazar, @champomiel, @vadinaleme, @kys4-20, @gills-lounge, @allsmilesreally7, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @sp00ky-spr1te, @bibliophilewednesday, @haroldpotterson, @i-love-rafe, @ellesalazar, @calmoistorm (if i forgot to add you, please let me know!)

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe angst #outer banks #obx #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron smut #obx fic #jj maybank #rafe cameron imagine

549 notes · View notes

slowburningechoes · 1 year

Note

I was wondering if you could do something with like, maybe write a smut about Professor Reid x Female Student. Thanks <3

uhm, yes!!! professor reid makes me swoon cw: smut (18+, minor dni), brat!reader, unethical relationship (title ix is important babes), age gap (15 years), fantasization, mutual masturbation, oral (f!recieving), office sex, makeshift gag usage, exhibitionism, unprotected sex (pls wrap it up), breeding word count: 3.1k

secrets demand silence

Spencer knew this wasn't right - thinking of you, his top pupil, as he palmed the bulge growing in his slacks. It was an unethical and immoral concept at its core. After all, he couldn't have you and thinking of you this way just made his yearning even more unbearable.

He leaned back in his leather desk chair and tried to get the thoughts and images of you out of his mind, but the erection in his pants grew nonetheless. He couldn't help but think about the way you always sat at the front of the class wearing the cutest blouses and the shortest skirts. How you were always the first to chime in to answer his questions, rhetorical or otherwise. You had always done the reading and studied well for exams, but if you had to cram some last minute you would always come to class early with your hair pulled back with a claw clip and strands caressing the sides of your face as you stared intently at your textbook. There were so many times he wanted to bend you over the lectern right there and take you at the front of the empty lecture hall. Sometimes while he lectured, he would notice you biting down on your pencil and crossing your legs tightly and perversely, he hoped it was because you were soaking wet and thinking of him in the same inappropriate ways he thought of you. Spencer often wondered if you ever dashed to the bathroom or to your apartment to satisfy yourself from the tension those thoughts caused, just like he was doing now and like he had so many times before.

He tried to stop thinking of you, he really did - but it just didn't work. His cock was so enlarged that it was barely contained by the dark material - so, he decided to give in to temptation... once again.

Spencer knew the details of you from memory, but a little reference couldn't hurt. Thank god the institution didn't have access to his private browser history, he already had your social media pages pulled up from previous times he let his lustful thoughts control him. He had even decided his favorite picture of you: you were at some cozy little bookstore in between two aisles of shelves wearing a cream button down with a khaki v-cut sweater vest over top and a light brown plaid skirt that was just long enough to barely hit the middle of your thighs, your hair was wispy and pulled back by a matte cream claw clip and you were wearing the wide wire frame glasses that always made him take a second look. You weren't just standing there in the picture, though, you had your back plastered against one of the shelves, with your foot kicked up against the bottom and your eyes buried in a book. You looked so intelligent and beautiful, like you were in your natural habitat.

The last time he had touched himself to the thought of you was the first time he found that photo and he couldn't help dreaming about pinning you against that shelf and kissing you so deeply that the book fell from your hand and you were begging for him to touch you. That was a wonderful fantasy and one of his favorites, but after today's class Spencer's mind had created a new one.

He had started discussing a case that the BAU had worked in rural Alaska towards the end of lecture after one of your peers had asked about the places he had traveled during his work with the FBI. The conversation only scratched the surface, but it brought back the memory of the intimate homey inn and how there were limited rooms, so everyone else had to double up except him.

Now, so many years in the future, Spencer was wondering what it would be like to have to share a room like that with you. The inescapable proximity and the fact that you would be on the other side of the bathroom door with water dripping down your body as you dried off. How small the bed was and how close you would have to be because of it.

His imagination began to run wild as he freed his throbbing cock and wrapped his fist around it. He started to wonder what you wore to bed usually and how the fabric would feel when it inevitably brushed against his skin. He imagined waking up with the most strained morning wood imaginable and you making the softest whimpers in your sleep. He wondered if you would let him wake you up with a deep kiss and you would take him by surprise and straddle him.

Spencer was embarrassed that even the thought of kissing you made his dick twitch in his hand as he pumped it, but it did so desperately.

His need only increased as his imagination kept going, his eyes shut tight as he began to establish a rhythm. Spencer started to think about you grinding your core against his erection, moaning into his mouth and the wetness pooling on the area revealing that you slept without panties on. He would lift your sleep shirt to put your perfect tits on display for him before bringing one into his mouth as he bucked himself into you.

His fantasy hadn't even let him inside of you yet when his orgasm began to creep upon him at an increasing rate. Spencer's eyes were closed and his mouth was gaping as he increased the speed of his hand.

He couldn't help but let hushed mumblings of your name slip out as he worked himself with anticipation... what he didn't expect, though, was that you heard them.

You had just entered his office to see the shocking and glorious sight of Dr. Reid pleasuring himself. You hadn't knocked since he'd always said he had an "open door policy", but now you thought he may need to reconsider that. You had thought about what his cock might look like, but the reality of it was more than you could've ever dreamed of. He was lengthy, which was expected, but he was also impressively girthy. He would fill you up and stretch you out, the thought of which made your core begin to ache with a need that grew with every stroke he made down his member.

Before you could think consciously about your decision, you found yourself locking the door of his office behind you. Dr. Reid was so immersed in his self-gratification that he didn't notice the light "click" the lock had made.

The only thing that broke his trance was when you finally broke the tense heated air with a hesitant, "Doctor Reid?"

"F-fuck! Y/n?" his eyes shot open and he immediately began to panic, trying to maneuver himself back inside his pants and close out his browser before you made it around to his side of the desk - but to no avail. "W-what are you doing? Shit..."

You let your heart and sexual desire lead over your head as you came to the edge of his desk and propped your ass on top of him. Looking to your right, you saw your profile pulled up on his monitor. When you glanced down at him, his eyes were wide with shock, his cheeks flushed pink from embarrassment, and his cock still swollen and twitching with need.

"What am I doing? What are you doing, professor?" you inquire suggestively, spreading your legs open in the process, your skirt leaving little to the imagination.

"I-I," he attempted to begin his justification.

You flipped the bottom of your skirt upwards to reveal a pair of lacy black panties, which you began to rub your fingers down gently. Spencer couldn't help but suck in a tight breath and stare as you teased the outside of your need.

"Because it looks like you were jerking off to the thought of me," you hum, smirking down at him and pulling your panties to the side you reveal your bare pussy.

A hushed groan escaped him and his dick slapped against his stomach firmly. "I-I'm sorry, y/n."

"Don't be, professor... it's so hot," you dipped your middle finger between your folds and moaned softly for him, trying not to be too loud.

"Y/n..." he whimpered with a shaky voice, watching you intently. "T-this is wrong."

"Mmmm, but it feels so right," you sigh, pushing two fingers deeper inside you and moaning again. "Doesn't it?"

"Y-yes," he responded, beginning to palm his erection again.

"Don't be shy, Dr. Reid - I already saw your little show," you reassured, opening your eyes to smile at him devilishly. You circled your clit before choking out his name again with purpose and need, "Dr. Reid, please."

"Fuck, oh-okay," Spencer muttered before wrapping his fist around his length once again, pumping at a growing rhythm.

The sight of him stroking himself again made your wetness grow, your fingers motion in it eliciting the most delicious noises. The combination of those noises in combination with your moans made Spencer absolutely feral. Touching himself and watching you wasn't enough. Suddenly, he lunged forward towards you, spreading your thighs open with his hands.

"Professor!" you gasp, surprised by the contact and the strength of his grip.

"Can I taste you?" he blurts, his breath hot against your inner thighs.

You nod adamantly and begin to scoot your underwear down your legs to assist him. "Yes, please."

He hooked his fingers around the fabric and pulled them down the rest of the way before planting wet kisses along your inner thighs and up to your core. The feeling was like ecstasy, your mind was blank except for thoughts of pleasure and your body became tingly with anticipation. You were relieved when Spencer licked a stripe up your slit, dipping his tongue into you and gathering your arousal on his tongue. Just as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked gently, your legs snapped around either side of his head. He begin to switch between lapping at your center and taking the sensitive nub between his lips. It was excruciatingly satisfying, so much so that you gripped onto his locks firmly and subconsciously bucked your hips up into his mouth, demanding more as the pressure in your abdomen grew.

"Dr. Reid - I'm going cum," you whimpered, pressing his head against your core firmly. "Keep going, I'm begging you."

You feel him nod in agreement and moan into you as he continued to use his tongue strategically to motivate your climax. He began to devour you in a nearly animalistic manner, still methodic with his movements but with a desperation that made your thighs begin to quiver around his face. It only took him sucking gently on your clit one last time for you to fall apart, coming uncontrollably all over his face, grinding into it. You stifle your moans by biting down on your knuckle as he continues to lap at your pussy until you became numb from the excessive stimulation.

When he pulled his face from between your legs, his lips, chin, and the bottom bit of his button nose were soaked with your arousal. Plastered across his face was a mischievous smirk as he licked the arousal from his lips.

"You taste so... so fucking good, y/n," Spencer complimented, before leaning up to kiss you so that you could taste it as well.

You tried to respond as he moved away from your lips, but he was already working to remove your blouse. "I-is this okay?" he paused to ask when it was about halfway up your torso.

"You don't need to ask, professor. Anything you want to do is more than alright with me," you assure, peeling off your top to prove it to him.

Spencer stood there for a moment, staring at your breasts cupped by your beautiful black bra that matched your lacy underwear he had peeled off earlier. He reached around to your back to unsnap your bra, which he did so with ease. The fabric slipped from your shoulders and dropped from your chest, the cool air brushing against your bare skin causing your nipples to perk up and become hard.

"They're even more perfect than I imagined," he whispered, cupping them in his hands and bringing his thumb to caress your nipples.

"You've thought about them, hm, professor?" you tease, raising an eyebrow up at him. "Not a very appropriate way to think about your students, is it?"

Spencer cuts you a look of exasperation and snaps back, "Be quiet."

His demanding tone made your body writhe with warmth, "Oh, yes, sir."

"You act like you don't like me thinking of you like this, touching you like this - when you're the one who came over and put yourself on display for me," he growled.

"You were the one stroking your cock with a picture of me pulled up for reference," you responded with a sassy tone.

Your face was suddenly snatched between his hands, his thumb and fingers pushing your cheeks together. "And that made you so so wet. You know... after all the times I've fantasized about you, I never imagined you'd be such a brat."

You give him a smug look before biting you bottom lip and bringing him down for a deep passionate kiss. "Are you going to keep blabbing or are you going to fuck me?"

A loud huff came from Spencer as he leaned down to pick your panties up from the ground, stuffing them in your mouth. You gag around them slightly as they fill your mouth, muffling your teasing words.

"Since you're quiet now, I will," he whispered in your ear, sucking on your neck by your collarbone.

You moan in satisfaction, the sound barely vibrating through the fabric, your desperation making your professor chuckle smuggly. "That's much better. Can't have your loud mouth getting us caught, can we?" He spreads your legs back open, sliding the pads of his fingers in between your folds.

You shake your head "no" insistently, wanting to be good for him so that he would enter you. Your obedience worked, Spencer dropped his slacks and underwear to the floor and lined his tip up at your entrance. His dick brushing against your throbbing folds made you whine and grip onto the edge of the desk.

"I'm not even inside of you yet, beautiful," he hummed, enjoying your desperation.

He didn't wait an extra second to fill you, though, pushing his cock fully inside of you with one good stroke. You are stunned by the sudden force, his girth stretching you out with a stinging pleasure just as you had expected it would. He was much bigger than any other man you had been with and he knew exactly where to place his thrusts for maximum satisfaction for both of you. As he began to establish a pattern of his thrusts and their intensity, your walls began to squeeze around him for more. You wrap your arm around his back and scrape your nails down it with intense urgency, your simultaneous moans stifled by the makeshift gag in your mouth.

"You feel a-amazing, y/n - holy shit," Spencer struggled with his words, separated by quiet groans motivated by your pussy clenching around him. "So-so much tighter than I could've dreamt."

You smiled at his comment and looked up at his head thrown back and mouth gaping open as he fucked up into you harder. His left hand dug into your hip and the other came to tangle his fingers into the hair at the base of your head.

The deeper he pushed into you, the closer you became to reaching your second orgasm. The rhythm of his thrusts made your clit numb with pleasure, satisfying the nerves so much that you did not need external stimulation for your climax to rock into you. The grunts flowing from Spencer's lips in combination with the satisfaction made it come upon you quickly, your knees attempting to buckle together and your breaths becoming sharper. Your tightness increased, causing the cum to suddenly rush to the tip of Spencer's cock, causing his orgasm to rush into him as well.

The euphoria came crashing into both of you simultaneously, resulting in the most sloppy and melodic hushed noises you had ever heard. Your orgasm finished before his, your body tingling with satisfaction and your senses heightened.

"Y-y/n, baby - I'm going to cum in you," he muttered in between his struggled breaths.

All you could do was silently beg through the panties stuffed in your mouth, you wanted every drop of him inside of you. Thankfully, Spencer must have felt your body agree, your pussy opening deeply for his seed to spill inside. Within seconds, he was grunting lowly and coating your walls with his cum. The feeling of him flooding you was the greatest satisfaction you had felt before, warm and full.

As he came down from his own high, he looped his fingers into the lace embedded in your mouth, pulling it out slowly.

"How do you feel, beautiful?" he asks in a gentler comforting tone.

You latch onto his neck and pull him down to you for a sensual open-mouthed kiss. "Absolutely wonderful... I think I'll have to come by office hours more often."

"I think I'm going to have to change that open door policy, hm?" he suggests. "Only for you."

"Oh, you don't do this with all your students?"

Spencer responds with an eye roll and his thumb brushing down your bottom lip. "No, y/n... only you."

"What about outside of here, hm? You have some girls you meet up with when you get lonely?" you tease again, trying to gauge where this relationship was headed.

He lets out a sigh of annoyance, "Y/n. Only you - you're all I think about."

"You're all I think about, too," you blurt out in agreement.

"Mmm, so no hot college hook ups for you?" he decides to play your game.

"No... I-I've been waiting for you," you respond, tracing your fingers down his chest.

"I'm yours, if you'll have me, y/n. Let me make you dinner at my apartment," Spencer whispered, kissing your lips softly. "We - we have to keep this on the down low, but I can't go another day without you."

You smile at him and nod, "I'd love to have dinner with you, Dr. Reid. I'm yours, as well... don't worry, I graduate in May, but I'm good at keeping secrets regardless."

requests are open!

1K notes · View notes

obriengf · 4 months

Text

Forbidden Cloth || Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: Stiles uncovers a strong disdain for Ugly Christmas Sweaters. Words: 1k Warnings: just stiles being cute af so don't read if you're not into that Notes: guys i rambled so much in this

hope he's bringing me love this christmas cause i deserve you here ✩

"Do you like my sweater?" Your voice carried such sweetness; an innocence that made a young man's heart swell with an overwhelming warmth. With that tone, you could get away with whatever you wanted and he would be right behind you, following every move, your cheerleader for life. You stood in his kitchen doorway, arms stretched between the dark wooden arches, a sense of 'ta-da' shown on the high upturn of your smile and showman's stance. And Stiles would have happily played along - singing your praises, throwing compliments - if it wasn't for the hideous fabric gracing your frame. His face dropped; speechlessness weighing down his tongue, brows furrowed and head tilted as he was truly lost with what to say. Your sweater soon absorbed every ounce of his focus and Stiles hated it. Truly, absolutely hated it. His jaw moved as words gathered yet remained unspoken, until, in candid Stiles' fashion, he let his mouth run before he could think it through, "What the hell is that?" Your brows furrowed, only mildly taken aback by his outright and unfiltered way of finally speaking. You hummed, "What are you on about?" Your question was rhetorical, to you at least, knowing full well that the itchy and bright bundle of fabric that you wore was anything but appealing. But you couldn't help yourself - messing around with the awkward mess that was your boyfriend was something that never failed to put a smile on your face. With pursed lips, you gazed down at your sweater, trying your hardest to not visibly cringe at the exaggerated embellishments. You hummed once more as faux naiveness contorted your features, "You don't like my sweater, baby?"

"I-I..." Stiles mumbled, trepidation sneaking inside his thoughts, trying to convince him to avoid offence. But the thing about Stiles Stilinski, even though he is the epitome of support and determination, he also has a bad habit of forgetting to filter his opinions before they escape his busy mind. "Like it? But it's so... so ugly."

It was quick when you saw his eyes widen; large warm irises of brown complementing his raised brows and ajar jaw. It was as if the mere second the words left his lips, Stiles realised what he said, and how much trouble he could be in. A deer caught in headlights, frozen and unmoving despite the rapid racing of his heart as it reverberated in his chest. He was potentially, and utterly, screwed.

"Wait, you think it's ugly?" You repeated his words, shot them straight back with a delicate timbre as your hands ran down the sides of the mismatched patterned wool. Stiles was looking worried now, and your capacity for games was wearing thin when you could see how he was beginning to pale. You managed a chuckle, filled with light and sincerity, as you began making your way toward him, "Good thing that was the whole point."

He watched you snort, his face dumbfounded, amusement breaking at the seams as his brows rose and the corners of his lips lifted in absolute puzzlement. His body was tense as he had braced himself for the blowback of how his unfiltered words could have caused harm, how they could have made you sad and insecure. He would never hurt you, not intentionally, and the guilt was hasty when it seeped deep into his bones and set every alert and emotion alight.

But now he was staring at you and that beautiful smile that was burnt in the back of his mind - living there rent-free, happily, most likely for the rest of his life. And by god, did it make him smile back with just as much joviality.

"I-I don't... baby, if you don't like it, why are you wearing it?" His words laughed but remained quiet as you got closer. It took everything for him to not come face to face with the bright and retched cloth in front of him as he opted to instead stand, eventually towering over your shorter frame, his hands large and delicate as they cupped your cheeks so habitually. Thumbs rubbed tentatively against skin; the touch was barely felt, but it was enough to provoke a red blush to gather where Stiles trailed.

You went to speak but froze in place - his childish gaze making you melt into the backdrop of your Christmas-covered apartment, always so mesmerised after all this time spent together. He had an effect on you, and he seemed to know it by the way his eyes had a mischievous glint that complemented well with his bitten lip.

"It's a thing, wearing ugly sweaters for Christmas." You breathed as your hands pressed to his chest, maintaining some sort of stability as he continued to courteously invade your space. His head tilted as he once did before, curiosity in the form of large puppy eyes and relaxed brows now contorting his features. It made you laugh within your word's undertones, "I've seen people do it on social media and it's cute, you know? Couples wearing matching sweaters -"

"You got me one too?" Stiles intercepted, but you could hear the hesitation in his voice. He loved you, so much, probably too much, but just the idea of wearing something as off-putting as your own sweater was something that made him cringe. "There's no way that you're gonna get me in one of those, sweetheart. I'd burn down the world for you, hell, I'd help you bury a body, but I'm not doing this ugly sweater thing."

He put his metaphorical foot down, but you saw no harm. If there was one thing that you admired so incredibly much about Stiles Stilinski, it would be his outright honesty - sometimes confused for an unfiltered mess, but you loved it regardless. You smiled up at him and he smiled back, unspoken understanding building the foundation of your relationship and it made the man lean down and press a gentle peck to your forehead.

His lips dragged down to your cheeks, your lips, under your ear before he whispered against your sensitive skin, "Alright, now go take that hideous thing off, and that cute little skirt while you're at it."

#dylan o'brien x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #dylan o'brien #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fic #stiles stilinski imagine #teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #dylan o'brien fic #dylan o'brien imagine #teen wolf fic #teen wolf imagine #obriengfchristmas

204 notes · View notes

eyesthatroll · 1 year

Text

five more minutes | luke hughes

pairing; lh43 x fem!reader

warning(s); none really, fluff i guess, kinda edited not really

word count; 0.5k (blurb?)

yawning, you peeled your eyes open, squinting at the sunlight that seeped through the open black curtain.

glancing to your left, you reach out and grab your phone from the bedside table.

5:04 am.

luke's head rests on your lower stomach, his legs twisted around yours under the white duvet.

you were hot, thirsty, and needed to get out of your sweat ridden night clothes. it was the dead of summer, and your ac was broken, again.

you try move to your left, hoping you can slide out from under luke without him waking up, but the moment you move, he's pulling you closer to him.

huffing to yourself, you untangle your legs from his, and attempt to roll him over.

"what're you doing?" he murmurs, wrapping his legs around yours again.

"need to get up." you groan.

"what time is it?" his voice is breaking, raspy from sleep, and lack of water this morning.

"five."

"it's early, don't get up." he begs.

"lu, it's too hot. i feel disgusting."

luke twists his head to look up at you, tired eyes pleading you to give in. he uses his feet to kick of the duvet, leaving just you and him on top of the sheet. "better?"

you shake your head. "you're hot luke, i need you to get off me."

"just five more minutes."

"luke, i'm serious."

"please, baby."

you let out an exasperated sigh, your head leaning back into the pillow in frustration. "five minutes." you warned.

and it was five minutes, you were counting down the seconds.

"times up, babyboy." you announce, your hand giving a slight tug to his curls.

luke tightens his hold on you, now playing with the drawstring on your skimpy night shorts.

"it hasn't been five minutes." he whines.

"it literally has. i was literally counting." you deadpan.

luke groans. it's almost comical at this point.

"why do you hate me?"

you burst in laughter at his over exaggerated question. "because you're clingy in the mornings, you always eat my good yogurt, you take to long to-"

you're teasing.

"enoughhhhhh!"

"so it was a rhetorical question?"

"i wasn't seriously asking, i was joking. making a joke." the sassiness comes through in his tone.

"so was i." you slide out of his grasp, leaving him limp on your side of the bad. "you should be laughing, because i'm a funny person."

luke hughes was not a morning person, and you just loved to rile him up.

"you're not funny, you're annoying." he huffs.

"my name's not annoying, it's y/n."

luke sends you a dirty look, not appreciating another one of your jokes.

you lean down, and kiss his forehead. you're pulling away, when luke pulls you back down by the shirt.

his lips meet yours in quick fashion, morning breath forgotten. you feel his teeth graze your bottom lip, an attempt to open you up, but you pull away, pushing him on the forehead with your palm.

he falls back to the pillow, his lips formed into a pout.

"'i'm gonna shower. will you be up when i get out, or are you going back to sleep?"

luke gives you a pointed look, as if you didn't already know the answer. "close the blinds on the way out, please."

/end

mari speaks! not much to say about this one, i'm sure it could use a few more details here and there, but it's 4am and i'm tired of looking at it. hopefully it's not too terrible. also, random, but i just bought a qh43 funk pop! didn't even know they made those, (and it was so cheap!! 15$ waaa??) anyways, that's it.

#luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #nj devils #hockey

951 notes · View notes

wonwoosthetic · 5 months

Note

AHHH I love the Joel x reader series, the way their relationship unfolds is chef kiss! Can we have a fic on how they met, the process they went getting to know each other specially after Sarah’s mom left him must not be easy for Joel to fall in love again so it will be nice to read how reader broke his walls down

Have a nice day 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

series masterlist

warnings - men (only stupid words, no name-calling, etc.), alcohol, cursing

word count - 11k

a/n: I didn't plan for this to become a two-parter, but I guess that's just how it goes sometimes haha. Also: this is SO long overdue, I'm so sorry, I took a break from this series, but I'm back! And there are more requests to come ˙ᵕ˙ thank you so so much for the request and your sweet and kind words🥺, I really hope you like this, and then the 2nd part that will include much more Joel x Reader content🤭 and I hope you have a wonderful day/night🤍🤍

You're Lonely. I Can Fix That. Pt. 1

1999

"Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit!" A familiar deep voice from behind you called out, catching you off guard. "If it isn't sweet lil' Y/N." With a forced smile, you turned to the left. Right away, your eyes found the one and only Tommy Miller. The infamous dark locks were still unruled on top of his head. He wore his hair slightly longer than you remembered. The cheeky grin, the entire town had come to know, was still as evident as ever plastered on his face.

He had just made his way to the bar, where you had been occupying a barstool for the past hour.

You welcomed him with a tight smile, "Hey, Tommy." Surprising you, the older man threw an arm around your shoulder to pull you into a side hug that you reciprocated slightly awkwardly. He had caught you off-guard.

"How the hell they're lettin' you in here?" With a smirk, he took a seat right next to you, his palms brushing over the dark oak of the bartop. He definitely felt comfortable.

You held onto the drink you had been nursing ever since you got there. "I just know the right people," you teased him with a smile, making him chuckle.

"Wow, breakin' the law now too? What happened to you?" His fake gasp almost sounded too real. You joined him, giggling at his comment. "How have ya been?" He added before you could add a snarky remark to his rhetorical question.

You nodded, "Good. Busy."

"You in college now?" Tommy asked. You wondered if his Southern Accent had gotten even stronger. After not seeing you for a good two years, the younger Miller brother wasn't yet caught on to your current life.

Another nod from you, to which he smiled. "Smart girl. What 'bout your sister? How's she?" The corners of your lips curled into a smile. You just waited for that question to finally drop. Her name had to enter the conversation at some point.

"Still not interested in you." You sent him a wide grin.

He shook his head with a chuckle. "Why you gotta hurt me like that, sweetheart?" You rolled your eyes at his love for nicknames - just like you always did - minus the fake gag you used to do behind his back.

Ever since you could remember, Tommy Miller, one of town's biggest troubles and flirts, had been ogling after your older sister. She was probably the only girl who had never given in to his charming personality. At one point, you had stopped counting the calm afternoons you were sitting in your parents' restaurant, either helping out or doing your homework, getting interrupted by the distracting loud voices of Tommy and his friend group. They always chose to sit at the same booth - the one with the perfect view through the slit window into the kitchen.

After a few months, you were convinced that they weren't visiting for the food or drinks. You had caught onto their actions. Tommy was after your sister. And knowing where to find her after school was for his benefit. Only problem: she was interested in anything, and everything, but the youngest Miller brother. It still never failed to amuse you how dedicated the boy was to get her attention in any way possible - even if it was for all the wrong reasons and probably just wanted to tick her off his list of 'girls in town I've slept with'.

And even now, years after she had left your Southern hometown, he was still thinking about her. It almost made you 'awe'.

"Where's she? I haven't seen her in forever." He interrupted your train of thought.

"Do you really wanna know?" You asked him teasingly. "I'm about to break your heart." He had to know at some point.

Over exaggerating, he placed his hand on top of his chest, holding onto the wrong side, idiot, and lowered his head. "Please do it quick."

No matter how annoying he was in the past, he was entertaining. You had to give him that. Your slight amusement was hard to conceal. "She's in New York."

Tommy looked back up at you right after those words left your lips, scrunching his eyebrows. "New York? Damn... going big, huh? What's she doin' over there?"

"Marrying a lawyer," you simply answered, leaving him with his mouth hung open as you took a sip from your drink. You almost choked on the liquid once you saw his face.

"Wow," he breathed out dramatically. "She really thinks a lawyer's gonna be better than me?" Both of you knew the answer to his question should stay muted.

You chuckled. "I convinced her that a lawyer would be better than you."

Getting a laugh from him in return. "You little-" He reached out, ready to destroy your hairstyle with his fingers, when the two of you got interrupted.

"This man's troubling you, Y/N?" The sudden voice of your friend behind the bar caught your attention. After serving the people on the other end, she had gotten back to you, expecting to continue your conversation from before, when the man next to you caught her eye.

"Oh, this is trouble in person," you told her with a smile.

Tommy sat up straight right away, a proud grin plastered on his face. He seemed to be very proud of the title you had given him.

"That would be me." He reached out his right hand over the countertop. "Tommy," introducing himself to your friend and bartender for the night.

"Maria," she accepted his hand, shaking it briefly, locking eyes with him for a second too long. You immediately noticed the change in her gaze, making your smile drop within a split second.

She was quick to turn on her work persona, asking him for his order and turning around to snatch the two beers he had asked for out of the fridge. Of course, not without sending you an amused grin. You had to hold back the shake of your head tickling you.

While Tommy still had his ass planted onto the seat next to you, you caught a glimpse of a group of men in a booth right behind the younger Miller brother. Their stares were too hard to miss. The faces seemed familiar.

You cleared your throat. "Your friends seem nervous."

Your comment caught Tommy's attention. With a swift look behind him, he sent them a nod before turning back to you. "Eh," he brushed it off, "They'll be alright. Probably just jealous it's me sitting here with a pretty girl instead of one of them." No. Just no.

"Tommy," you warned him, turning your head to look right into his eyes, a teasing smile threatening to expose you. "No." Just as quick as he had looked up, the little glimpse of almost hope evaporated, replaced by humour as he threw his head back in laughter.

"Oh well," he slapped the countertop, "I tried." You shook your head with a soft chuckle.

Maria was back, in her hand the two cold dark bottles filled with the liquid you couldn't even smell without gagging. She put them down right in front of the Miller brother. A grin that showed her dimple, splashed on her face. You leaned back to watch.

Tommy gave her a nod with a grin, reaching back into his jeans pocket, only to be stopped by your friend.

"It's on the house."

He held still mid-move. "Oh no. No, no, I can't accept that."

Maria held out her hand. "Don't worry 'bout it."

"Nah, I can't just let a drink go on the house. I've been here way too much," Tommy argued, that shit-eating cocky grin still on his lips.

"Never when I was here." The woman behind the bar smirked. You could've sworn she was damn close to winking at him. "So, trust me, it's fine."

With a defeated sigh, the man dropped his head, shaking it with a soft chuckle as he reached for the glass bottles. "I appreciate it, thank you, sweetheart." He stood up, only to turn towards you before officially leaving you alone at the bar again. "Y/N," he called out, getting your attention, "How about joining us for the night?" He nodded towards the table, where the rest of his group was still eyeing you with clear interest. "And Maria, I don't know how long you're working today, but we won't be leavin' anytime soon, so feel free to come too."

Before she could answer, you cut into it. "Thanks, Tommy. We're good, though."

With extended arms to each side, he sent you one last grin. "The offer's open. I ain't takin' it back."

When he finally turned around to join the other three men, you sighed, pushing your barstool straight to lean forward against the countertop. You were met with the crossed arms of your friend and neighbour. A conversation was about to start.

"What?" You wondered, going back to nursing on your drink, that she had made extra sweet just for you.

"'What?'" Maria mocked you, snatching a wet towel to wipe over the wood. "A hot dude just asked you to spend some time with his extremely good-looking group of friends, and you turned him down? What the hell is wrong with you?"

You dropped the straw back into the glass to gasp at her. "I came here to spend some time with you, not to sit around with some weird ass dudes. I know about them. I'm not a fan of them."

Maria didn't grow up around the area. She didn't know about Tommy's reputation just yet. She came to Texas for college after most of them in Boston had rejected her.

After transferring from one college in Kansas to one in your hometown, you had looked for people searching for roommates in the area, when you found Maria's flyer on the campus blackboard. One coffee date later, the two of you knew it was a match made in heaven. You had become almost inseparable ever since.

Back to her trying to set you up for no good.

She chuckled at your comment, switching to drying off some glasses her co-worker had left freshly washed on the counter. "Oh yeah, you're right. They're neither forty-plus nor one of our professors. How dare I even think you could possibly find any of them attractive?"

With an open mouth, you glared at her. "Are you judging me?" Getting only a grin and a shrug in return.

You leaned forward. "I have to pay for every single one of my drinks every time I'm here."

"Well," she put down the glass she had been cleaning, leaning in closer to your face. "You're not a hot country guy with a Southern accent." She really was that easy, huh?

You let yourself fall back slightly, arms crossed in front of your chest as you dared to take a quick glance over to the table, coincidently catching the eyes of one of Tommy's friends as he winked at you, making you almost shiver. And not in a good way.

With a shake of your head, you turned back to Maria, who had caught the quick interaction that made her chuckle.

"You know them?"

"Their faces. I know Tommy, kinda... but I have no idea who his friends are. I only know they're loud and... disgusting." After finishing your drink, you slid it over to her, with a wide smile asking her for another refill, which she accepted with a slight sigh.

"And how do you know him?" She continued interrogating you as she moved around the space to mix the alcohol and fruit juices to make your cocktail.

You raked your fingers through your hair, hoping to style it just the way you had managed to do, only hours ago when you had gotten ready in your bathroom. "He used to have the biggest crush on my sister. I mean," you stopped for a second. "Either that or she was one of the girls on his list."

"His list?" She took a quick look up at you before directing her attention back to the glass in front of her.

"His 'every girl in my year I still need to fuck' list."

Just as she passed you back your now freshly filled glass, Maria gave you an unamused glace along with it, making you chuckle.

"What? I'm serious."

"That was the name of his list?"

"Listen, maybe... maybe not. But I'm sure there was a list. I just couldn't care less what the actual title of it was." You took a quick sip. "So, don't you even dare." You pointed a strict finger at her.

"Don't I even dare what?" She wondered, teasing you because both of you knew where you were going with your thread.

"Give into his disgusting fake charisma!"

"Maybe it's real!" She fought back with a smile, earning herself a straight and monotone facial expression from you. Maria scoffed, "Oh, I'm sorry for being attracted to guys my age." You knew telling her about your crush on the humanity studies professor the two of you shared, would bite you in the ass someday. And now, she won't let it go. Ever.

"Look, at least we won't ever have to fight over a guy." You stated with a grin.

Your friend joined you with a bright smile as she pointed her finger at you, "Amen."

You raised your glass.

With a swift move, Maria threw a fresh washcloth over her shoulder. Her gaze was fixed on the table by the wall a few feet behind you. The one Tommy and his buddies had claimed. Their loud voices were echoing through the entire bar - hollers and shouts that could not be ignored. Maria chuckled.

"You should accept his invitation."

You had to roll your eyes. "I don't want to, thank you very much."

"What about that New Year's resolution of yours? 'Meeting new people', was it?" She teased you. Fuck, you cursed to yourself. She wasn't wrong. The new year was only about a month in, but Maria had already achieved 50% of her resolution, while you were still stuck on yours with 0%. After coming back to your hometown, you remembered most of your old friends from school (not that there had been many) had moved away just about the time you did. And no one had the nerve to come back. So, you were stuck. Stuck with having to meet new people to connect with. But that was a shadow you would have to learn to jump over. And that brings us to your New Year's resolution.

"But-" you groaned, but Maria was ready to interrupt you.

"No buts-" she pointed a strict finger at you. "And they're not even completely 'new' to you. You already know Tommy, that's a start. And that will make getting to know the other ones even easier." Her hands went back to cleaning the bar area.

"I don't even wanna get to know 'the other ones'," you mumbled under your breath, hiding your lips behind the rim of your glass.

Maria looked up. "What was that?"

"Nothing," you quickly added before ending the conversation with a sip.

You took a deep breath. You had two options to choose from. Either you continue your evening alone by the bar, sipping one cocktail after the other, with your best friend by your side whenever she wasn't focused on drunks stumbling over to the counter, lulling about which drink they'd want next. OR you could go after your resolution and try to have a good night with the random idiots you used to curse at back in your school days. You could've hit yourself over the head for even just taking the second option into consideration, but something lured you in.

With a shake of your head, unbelieving of what your body was telling you to do, you pushed yourself away from the counter. The barstool you had been occupying scraped over the wooden floor. Before you turned around, you got a hold of your cocktail - if you were going to do this, you would not be doing it without more alcohol.

By rolling your eyes, and your attention still on the grin Maria sent you along the way, you didn't see the man you were about to run into. Strong hands on your shoulders stopped you. You definitely felt like you had just stepped on someone's toes too.

"Oh, sh-" you whipped your head around. "Sorry." Glancing up, you already found the possible softest brown eyes looking down at you.

"Sorry," the man immediately spoke up too, taking his hands off you as if your skin had burnt him.

"S-Sorry about that," you couldn't help the stutter. God, those eyes were almost bronze, you thought, Jesus, and his curls too...

"All good," he cleared his throat, "just gotta make sure you ain't runnin' someone over with a force like that." His voice was just as warm as his looks.

You almost let an awkward chuckle escape if it hadn't been for Tommy's loud voice echoing through the rumbling background noises of the bar.

"Yo, Joel! Don't forget our beers! You can flirt later!"

Joel. The man didn't even hesitate to turn around. "How about you go get your beers yourselves?" He got a round of groans in return, only for the Miller brother to stand up and jog over to the two of you. You had to catch yourself back into the present again, daydreaming about the man standing in front of you can wait.

With a sheepish grin, Tommy stopped by your side and threw an arm around your shoulder. "Y/N, is this man bothering you?"

"I should ask her that about you, don't you think?" Joel's eyes fell to his brother's hand that had pulled you in close to the side of his chest. Tommy dropped it quickly.

"You're no fun," he hissed at the man in front of you before turning around to lean against the dark wood that was separating him from the bar area.

A weird silence spread between the two of you as your eyes lost focus on the Southern man now behind you.

"I'm sorry 'bout him," the soft voice apologised. Joel's voice.

You eyed him a little closer.

His shirt was somewhat tight, yet loose enough. It seemed to have a relaxed fit, but his arms and chest were definitely worked out enough to test the stretchiness of the material. It looked comfortable. With his lazy set of dark curls, this man radiated comfort. Even his beard, which he had decided to keep at a length that made it look well-kept, but not too neat, but not completely rugged, added to the softness of his entire appearance.

With a chuckle, you ran a hand through your hair. "It's alright, I- that's how I know him. So it's- you know..."

"You know my brother?"

Brother? Joel? Joel Miller. Tommy Miller's brother. How Tommy having a brother never crossed you, was beyond you. But then again, you literally only knew about the younger Miller brother because of your sister, so no surprise that you had never heard of an older Miller brother before.

"I- well, I wouldn't say 'know'-" you started, but the familiar voice interrupted you once again.

"Oh, come on, Y/N! Don't hurt me like that!"

You swiftly turned your head around to glance at him. "Tommy- we don't know each other that well." Unless you could count the multiple times he had asked you about your sister's well-being in the past, and now present. Or the times he had caught up with you on the street and bombarded you with questions about her.

With a kiss of his tongue, he brushed off your comment. "Don't be like that." He turned his attention to Joel. "You remember Izzy? Back in my High School days. The chick from the restaurant two streets down from our school?"

"Oh, God," the older Miller shook his head as he mumbled. His fingers pressed the bridge of his nose.

"Y/N's her sister," Tommy laughed, mostly to himself. "What are the odds of us meeting here tonight, huh?" He asked into the room, turning back around to the bar, happy about the next round of alcohol. "Joel," the younger Miller nodded towards him. "These are on you." He held up the four beer bottles he carried between his fingers. Not even waiting for an answer, he walked away, getting an annoyed sigh from his brother in return, who switched places with his brother.

Tommy bumped your shoulder. "And you're coming with us. Come on."

After daring to take a quick look behind you, finding Joel handing over the money to Maria and accepting a beer for himself, you followed his brother. The table with his friends seemed to already have been waiting for you as they welcomed you, and the beers, with loud cheers. You joined Tommy on his side of the booth, as the current situation was too uncomfortable for you to sit next to one of his friends. Especially if it was the one that had winked at you before.

"Alright, guys," Tommy's voice brought you back. "This is Y/N," he introduced you before moving on to tell you the name of each man on the table. "And the man of the evening!" He called out, his arm reaching out to the figure that was coming closer to your table. "My brother, the one and only Joel Miller." Looking up, you found him already looking at you again. You quickly diverted your eyes to the dark wood underneath your hands.

"The man of the evening when he didn't even want to be here in the first place?" One of Tommy's friends commented with a scoff. Mike? Yeah, it was Mike.

Joel slit into the other side of the booth, directly opposite of you. You noticed yourself sitting up a little straighter.

"Well, not all of us are thirty and have nothing better to do than to get drunk in the middle of the week," the older Miller replied. He casually sat back, taking a sip from his beer.

Mike chuckled. "Not all of us can't ever leave the house because they had a kid when they were a teenager."

Joel put the beer, taking a deep breath. The sudden change in atmosphere was evident to everyone at the table. Even to you. Well, this was already going great.

Tommy was quick to react. "Hey," he stopped the conversation, "I thought we agreed on no fighting today? Please, guys, come on. Get yourself together."

With your eyes on the oldest Miller brother, you could see his lips moving, mumbling something under his breath that you didn't catch, due to the loud background noises.

"Yeah, no fighting!" Trevor, you thought his name was, called out, raising the already half-empty bottle of beer in his grip. "To Tommy! Welcome home, brother."

Welcome home? Confused, you joined the table, everyone raising their glasses, clinking them all together in the middle.

Once you noticed the other side of the table had fallen into a conversation, you leaned into Tommy on your left.

"Where were you?" Your voice was too low for any of his friends to catch it, but loud enough to get the attention of the older Miller across from you too.

"Because of the 'welcome home'?" The man next to you wondered. You nodded, letting him continue. With a smirk, he put his bottle down. "Your sister didn't tell you?"

You rolled your eyes. "Tommy, she doesn't even know where you are right now, nor does she care. I can guarantee that." A chuckle from ahead of you made your head turn. You could see the smallest glimpse of a grin playing on Joel's lips as he tried to hide it by taking a sip of his beer.

"Wow," Tommy huffed out. "You're really just gonna put more and more salt into that wound, huh?" You ignored his overly dramatic comment, choosing to just continue glancing at him with a somewhat smile on your face, waiting for him to continue. He brushed a hand through his hair before giving you an answer to your question. "I was stationed in Iraq. As of last week, I'm a free man again."

You found your mouth agape. "Oh... oh shit, I had no idea." Your reaction made him chuckle. "Congrats?" Your reaction turned more into a question as you were unsure about what exactly to say to him.

"Thanks, girly," he smiled at you. "Although I am a bit offended that you didn't even notice I've been since graduation."

"Oh, please," you chuckled with a shake of your head. "But," you started again, getting a raise of his brows in return. "Now that I think about it, my mom did ask about you once."

"Really?" His eyes lit up. His reaction reminded you of a little boy being granted three wishes. You almost giggled. "What did she say?"

"Where's Danny Zuko and his entourage?" You smirked up at him. "It was around the time Izzy moved away. That's when she noticed how quiet it was without you guys."

"She called me Danny Zuko?" Tommy smiled to himself, raising one eyebrow as he glanced at you. You could already feel the greasy hand coming up to glide over his hair even before he actually did it.

From across the table, the warm yet rough voice spoke up, "Don't let it get to your head, Tommy." Joel was looking at his brother in slight amusement. You could tell he wanted to shake his head at his actions.

The younger Miller scoffed. "Don't be jealous just 'cause no one's callin' you the hottest man of the seventies." That's because Joel Miller might just be the hottest man of the century.

"Fictional man, though," you corrected him.

He gave you a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. "You bein' a smartass now?" Getting a sarcastic grin from you as an answer.

The conversation with Tommy moved more naturally than you had expected. You had been scared of awkward silences and pauses, but they had yet to happen, and you prayed they wouldn't even get an appearance this evening.

"So," a voice from the other end of the table caught your attention. "what do you do, Y/N? You lookin' a lil' young." Some of the other guys chuckled at his comment. Unessecary, but okay.

Before you could even open your mouth, Tommy spoke. "She ain't that much younger than us, Mike." Just clearing the air - you were thankful for that.

You cleared your throat, your fingers nervously intertwining underneath the table. "I'm in college."

"What are you studyin'?"

"Mathematic."

A scoff erupted from your side of the table, but on the other end, making it impossible for you to see exactly who it was from. "Mathematic? How the hell you gonna pay them bills? Doing fractions?" His rhetorical question got a round of laughter from almost the entire table. The guys continued joking about what you had just told them.

"Subtracting and adding, why the fuck would there even be a course for that?" Well, I bet you can't even calculate the tip you should give waiters.

"Everyone with a degree in math can't be anywhere else but in an office. What a life." A life where they earn more money than you, most likely.

"You also had those smartass kids at school that were good at math for no reason? Always hated them. So annoying, I swear to God." At least I was never crying at the dinner table with my dad trying to explain my homework to me.

You decided to stay quiet and let yourself fall back into the leather cushions behind your back. With a soft sigh, you brought your glass up to your lips, taking two sips of your cocktail. You didn't have the energy nor the need to speak up against them. You didn't know what their occupation was. And neither did you care. You're focused on yourself. You had to listen to far too many joking comments about your choice of degree to give a flying fuck about them anymore.

Your eyes wandered around the room before Joel's voice suddenly brought you back.

"What do you wanna do with that degree?" His question surprised you. Your eyes stopped at his face. Even in the dimlit bar, you could still make out his soft features. His coarse voice sent a chill through your entire body - a good chill though. The kind of chill you get after putting the first foot into a hot bath. That was Joel Miller's voice. Warmth. Pure warmth.

You put your glass down, pressing your lips together for a quick second. Looking up at him, his gaze was already on you, patiently waiting for your answer.

"I- ehm," you wiped your hands down your jeans. They weren't wet, you were just nervous, apparently. "I'm not sure yet. If possible, I would really like to get a Master's in STEM too, but..." you trailed off, not about to spill your entire life story to a, technically, stranger. "We'll see."

Joel nodded. His gaze never left you, following each word that fell from your lips. "And," he continued, "what could you do with a Mathematic degree?"

"Oh, a lot," you spoke up. You could feel yourself sitting up straighter, your hands back on top of the table. "A lot of people become financial advisors for companies. Or statisticians... ehm... I could also obviously become just a Math professor," you shrugged. "Most things are office jobs, though."

Joel had a soft smile on his lips, that only made you feel the heat in your cheeks spreading with each second. You hoped the lack of light in the room hid it well.

While you had added that last comment as a validation of most people's thoughts of the jobs you had mentioned being 'boring', you were surprised by his reply.

"So you'll have an easy life, at least. While also making quite a good amount of money. That's the smartest way to live if you ask me." Exactly.

The older Miller surprised you. He seemed to have taken in everything you had told him, giving you fitting answers. All while the men next to you had moved on to the degree they had claimed as 'useless' - Engish Literature.

"Very smart of you," he added at last. You almost caught yourself giggling as the corners of your lips curled up, your hands still stuck together.

"Thanks," you could only mumble. Get yourself together. Not wanting the conversation to end, you brushed some hair that had fallen into your sight away from your face. "And what do you do? Work wise."

Joel had started picking at the label of his beer bottle, snatching his fingers off it as soon as your question hit his ear.

"I'm a contractor," he told you. Impressive.

You nodded along. "Wow... that's- you know, not an easy job."

He smiled at your comment, ducking his head slightly. You found it almost endearing in a way. "Well," his hand came up to hold onto his neck. "Much easier than studying math, I can tell ya that much."

"No," an awkward chuckle escaped your lips as you crossed your arms on top of the table. "I meant like physically."

To that he tilted his head, nodding slightly in agreement, his hand wrapped perfectly around the beer bottle again. "Guess you're right about that, yeah. I already started praying for my back and knees." He took a sip to end his statement.

You wanted to ask about the kid they had mentioned. God, you were so curious. Something about him seemed so intriguing and you had already figured out that you were most definitely captivated by his warmth. The attention he had praised you with, whether it was out of politeness or not, had only added to your fascination with the man in front of you.

Tommy's loud holler right next to you made your head snap as you found the guys cheering on one of their friends as he held two beer bottles to his lips and tilted his head back to down it all in one go. What an achievement.

In your mind, you shook your head. That New Year's resolution can wait, you decided.

Just as you were about to take another sip of your glass, you noticed the lightness of it, looking down to find it empty already. You couldn't recall ever finishing it, which was already probably not a good sign. Without a word, you got up from your seat, your glass in your grip. You made your way back to the bar, the seat you had occupied earlier was already waiting for you.

Out of the corner of her eye, Maria caught your form coming closer, making her turn towards you, a glass of beer in her hands that she was about to give a waiting guest.

"You want a refill?" She wondered as soon as you had leaned against the counter, sitting yourself down on the wooden barstool.

You shook your head. "No, I'm good for tonight."

"What?" She called out in shock, stopping right in front of you as she took your glass. "Already? Are you okay?" You only nodded. For a second, she let her eyes wander across your face, choosing to refill the cup with water and slide it over back to you. "Drink that, you'll need it."

"Thanks," you mumbled. "But I'm fine, really. Just... tired."

Maria obviously didn't believe you. The time you had spent together let her get to know you better than you had wanted.

"Really just tired?"

You wanted to respond to her and had already opened your mouth, but a deep voice from the backroom that was only accessible from behind the bar called out.

"Maria, get you-!"

"Not now, Steven!" She shouted back, her eyebrows scrunched together in annoyance. You chuckled. Steven... one of the newbies of the bar's staff, but because of his apparently previous work experience as a barista he thought of himself much higher than most of the employees - at least that's what Maria had ranted about after each shift she had with him. With angry steps, he busted through the door, his eyes immediately on your best friend.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" His voice was filled with rage, making you sit up just a bit straighter.

But Maria wasn't that easily intimidated, especially not by a man the same height as her and two years younger.

"Helping a customer, you idiot. We're here together, so do your goddamn job and stop hiding in the backroom," she snarled back at him. With a huff and a shake of his head, he turned around towards the two girls who had been waiting by the bar.

"I'm telling you, I'm gonna get fired soon," she mumbled under her breath, but clear enough for you to hear her.

You shook your head in amusement. "You're not gonna quit?"

"I won't have the patience to do that. They'll fire me because I swear to God, I'm so close to fucking beat him up." With a deep breath, she collected herself again and leaned forward, her hands on the bar top. "Now," she looked up at you. "You're tired? Of?" Of course, she knew you weren't actually physically tired.

"Drunk unfunny men," you told her as your eyes followed your fingertips that were tracing each line of the wood underneath your palms.

A whistle sound from somewhere next to you caught both of your attention.

Maria rolled her eyes. "Yeah, tell me about it," before having to leave you to serve the man who had called after her. He was already waiting for her with a smirk on his lips.

You accepted the glass of water she had left with you and downed the entire content of it quickly. Before you could even stand up to finally leave, a figure suddenly appeared to your left and blocked your way. Just as you were about to complain, not in the mood for yet another stupid comment dropping from a man's mouth, you looked up.

Joel again. He noticed your movement.

"Oh- sorry, did you wanna go back?" He motioned with his hand past him and took a step back, but only a small one because of the barstool behind him.

You shook your head with a smile. "Eh- no, no... I-"

"Another one for you?" Maria suddenly appeared again. She pointed at the empty beer bottle Joel had put down. Her eyes quickly raked over both of your faces.

He motioned a polite no to her. "Thank you, but... that's gonna be it for tonight."

"You too?" She wondered, her head nodding towards you. "What's going on with you two? Why so boring today?" A soft smirk had made its way onto her face.

With a confused facial expression, you stared at her.

The older Miller chuckled, "'m sorry. But ehm... I got a lil' girl at home. Promised her not to stay out for too long, so I gotta get back."

Maria took the empty bottle off the counter. "A good dad, I see. I respect that," she nodded.

While she was occupied with some new dirty glasses Steven had placed in front of her, Jeol turned his attention back to you.

"Sorry, what were about to say?" He asked you. "You're gonna go back?" You shook your head again, nervously you had also subconsciously started playing with your fingers again.

"No, I... I think that was enough of Tommy Miller and his friends for me."

"Yeah," he sighed, letting himself sit down on the barstool next to you. "I-" he started again but stopped himself, the tips of his fingers tapping on the wood. His hands were beautiful, you noticed. Strong. Thick-

Maybe it was the three glasses of alcohol you had in your system but you could've sworn Joel Miller was glowing in the dim light of the bar. His skin was radiating gold specs and even his hair seemed to be more than just plain brown. It was deep, auburn and soft. And his curls, good God...

Your heart rate had slightly picked up now that it was only the two of you.

Joel nodded. "I get that. They can be a bit much sometimes. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," you chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, thinking about what to say next.

The silence took over the both of you for a good few seconds. Both pairs of eyes fixed on anything but each other. You took a deep breath, followed by Joel doing the same. Silence can be so unbearable sometimes...

"So," he started again. "You're gonna stay here?"

You gulped. "Y-Yeah, yeah... I... I'm just gonna wait for Maria, we live to-"

"Oh no, girl," your best friend suddenly jumped in. "Tonight's gonna be late. With Steven here, I don't know when I'll be done." She turned to Joel. "My co-worker's an asshole that doesn't know how to do his job, so...," she shrugged.

The oldest Miller chuckled and nodded, amused at her choice of words.

"It's fine, I'll just... wait," you argued, but she was having none of it, waving her hand in front of your face.

"No, no, you should get home. You said you're leaving?" She asked the man next to you, catching him off-guard with her question.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm gonna go now."

"Well, that's convenient. Would you mind... maybe, taking her with you?" Your best friend nudged her head towards you.

"Maria!" You shout-whispered.

But Joel just casually nodded. "Sure." And stood up immediately.

"No," you stopped him. "It's fine, really-"

"Y/N," she interrupted you again, "you really should get home." Maria raised her eyebrows at you. "You got that thing tomorrow."

"What thing?" You asked her with a tight smile on her lips.

"You know... the thing. That you need to be well-rested for."

"Maria-"

"Can I trust that you get her home safe?" She ignored you, turning to Joel. A big grin and awaiting eyes on her face.

He nodded politely. "Yes, ma'am, I promise."

"Ma'am?" She gasped with a smile, "Oh, I trust you a lot." After exchanging looks with the Miller brother, she turned back to you, slapping your hands off the counter with the washcloth she had been holding. "Now get your ass out of the bar."

Your eyes kept following her as she continued to take a step back. Followed by another step. Her hands motioned for you to leave once again, making you shake your head and Joel next to you chuckle.

With a soft sigh, you stood up.

"You good to go?" He asked you, making you look up at him with a somewhat forced smile.

"Yeah."

He opened his palm, letting you walk ahead first. After thanking your best friend for the drinks, he joined your steps but kept walking behind you. You only came to a halt as you passed Tommy's table and only because Joel spoke up. If it had been just you, you would've continued to just pass them, they wouldn't have noticed it anyway.

"We're gonna head out," he told the table, his hand tightly on his brother's shoulder.

"We?" Tommy asked, turning his body just a bit to find you a few steps next to Joel. "You're goin' together?"

"I'm gonna get her home," he nodded.

A round of hollers erupted from the rest of the guys, taking you by surprise. "GET IT, MILLER!"

"Shut the fuck up, Mike," the older Miller was quick to argue back, clearly annoyed by their reaction.

Tommy laughed, "Don't mind him, brother, he's just jealous. Right, Mike?" The rest of the group joined in, starting by teasing and poking their friend, who was the same guy that had raked his eyes up and down your body back when you were still sitting by the bar. Wonderful...

Joel only rolled his eyes. "Anyways, we're goin' now." That made his younger brother suddenly stand up and walk over to you, his arms opened wide. Before you could react, you were engulfed in a tight hug. You were only able to awkwardly pat his back with one hand.

"It was great seeing you again, sweetheart," he let you know, freeing you again, and taking a step back. "Maybe we'll see each other again."

"Yeah," you could only let out an awkward smile, "maybe." With one last pat on your upper arm, he turned to his brother, doing the same thing to his arm before joining the rest of his friend group at the table again.

With no last words, Joel continued his walk straight ahead, coming to another stop right by the door, where the hooks that had been drilled into the walls were holding the outerwear of each visitor.

"You left a coat here or somethin'?" He asked you.

You nodded and pointed. "The beige one on the right."

He got it off the hook for you and opened it for you. Slightly taken aback by his kind gesture, you thanked him with a surprised tone and turned around to get your right arm into the coat first. He helped you with your left arm as well and only turned back to the hangers to get his own jacket. You waited patiently for him before walking over towards the door, pushing it open and holding it, making sure he got through it as well. As soon as the wind of the cold January air outside hit you, you pulled your coat tighter around you, cursing at yourself for not taking a scarf with you as well.

Joel walked past you, putting on his jacket just then. You noticed he was walking towards a specific direction, clearly to where he had parked his car, but you wanted to stop him. So you did.

"You know, you really don't have to." Your voice made him turn around. "I don't know what the hell Maria was talking about. A-And you don't me that well- and I obviously don't know you either. And I totally understand if you just want to get home quickly. You really don't have to bring me home too. I'm fine with just taking the bus-"

Joel couldn't help but be amused at your sudden rambling. He chuckled at you. "The last bus probably already left. And I really don't mind." With a few steps, he came closer, stopping to keep a comfortable distance between the two of you. "Plus," he looked around for a second before locking gazes with you again, "I promised Maria that I'd get you home, so... can't break that, you know?"

For a second you just looked at him. You noticed you were wrong. It wasn't just the dim lighting in the bar. Even with the almost freezing, for Texas, temperatures outside, he still managed to look incredible. His hair still looked as soft as before and his skin was still glistening golden. You knew exactly what Maria had tried to do. She knew it. Joel was the embodiment of your type.

He drove a truck. Of course he did. It fit him perfectly.

The car ride turned out to be less awkward than you had imagined it would be. Thank God. Joel had turned on the radio, giving the entire situation a calming background sound while the two of you talked about your days. He had started it.

Joel asked you about what you were doing in the bar in the first place and how you had known Maria, commenting on your relationship with, 'You two seem very close'. So your story about how you had moved away for college and came back only a few months ago started. He continued to listen to you attentively, nodding along to each word you spoke, giving you a comment here and there, but choosing to stay quiet for most of the time and let you tell your story. After you were finished, another moment of silence washed over you. So you decided to change the subject.

"You said you got a little girl at home?" You remembered the stupid comment one of Tommy's friends had dropped - you had already forgotten his name. And his answer to Maria's question hadn't left your mind ever since it came from his lips.

With your eyes on his side profile, you could see the slight curl of his lips.

"Yeah... I- I got a daughter," he took a deep breath. "Sarah."

You nodded. It warmed your heart the way he started speaking oh so softly.

"How old is she?" You wanted to continue the conversation, noticing the fond look on his face while he was concentrating on the street after you had given him your address, and he told you he knew the way since he had been in that area for work before.

"9. Her birthday‘s in August." You almost chuckled at his added comment, to let you know that her birthday was in the Summer. It was small but sweet.

There was another question burning the tip of your tongue, begging to be let out, but you knew that it was in no way your business to be asking that question. Yet, you were still intrigued about... her mother? As if he could read your mind, Joel continued.

"And I told her I wouldn't stay out too long. It's a school night, so I gotta get her out of bed early in the morning." So...? Single father? No, maybe his partner is on a business trip, who knows...

"Understandable," you nodded, swallowing down the other question and ignoring the voice repeating it inside your head. You couldn't help it. As much as you would've wanted to keep your thoughts sane, it was close to impossible when the man next to you was as attractive as Joel Miller. You had only met him a mere hours ago, yet he was able to captivate you in such a short period. Damn his looks and kind attention when you're speaking.

The rest of the relatively short car ride the two of you spent in mostly silence. Neither one of you wanted to come off as too strong and ask too many questions that might suddenly feel too personal. So you decided to stay quiet. Even though several questions were bubbling up deep inside you - it wasn't much different for Joel.

He brought the car to a halt right in front of your block. You glanced at him.

"Thank you." He was already smiling at you. "You- you really didn't have to, but... thanks."

He nodded, "My pleasure. Better stepping into the car of a stranger than taking a taxi, right?"

"Right," you chuckled, reaching out for the handle to push the door open. With one foot out in the cold again, you turned towards him for one last time. "Good night, Joel."

"Night, Y/N." He copied your sweet goodbye wave after you had closed the door and headed over to the entrance door. Only when you had gotten safe inside the building, Joel started to drive away.

"Stepping into the car of a stranger and a taxi is the same fucking thing, you idiot," he mumbled to himself, shaking his head in disappointment at his own misery. But at least it made you laugh.

You were finished with taking off your make-up and your skincare routine and had switched out your outside clothing for some comfortable pyjama pants and an old shirt you had kept from the musical production your High School had put up. The entire time you had spent in the bathroom, your mind had been anywhere but in the same room as you. You couldn't stop thinking about him. His voice. His side-profile. His lips. His hair- God... his curls. You shouldn't. You knew you shouldn't think of him that much. For fuck's sake, you had only met the man a few hours ago and suddenly he was occupying your mind more than what was then playing on the TV in front of you.

Your eyes switched to the clock Maria had put up on the wall to your left. It didn't fit the rest of the furniture even a bit. But she had found it at a garden sale and got it 'for a good deal', you remember her saying. The place needed a clock though and in that moment, you were thankful that you had one.

11:30 pm here, so 00:30 in the morning in New York.

Knowing your sister, she was probably still up and wouldn't go to sleep until closer to 2, or even past that - that girl needed to figure out her sleep schedule, but that was her worry and not yours. You only benefited from it.

With a big deep breath in, you pushed yourself off the couch and stumped over into the hallway to fish your phone out of your coat's pocket. Maybe she was actually still awake.

You clicked through your address list until your eyes fell on Izzy's number and you pressed to call her. Your feet took your back into the living room, letting you fall onto the cushion again.

It only took a few rings before you heard her voice.

"Hello? Are you okay?"

You chuckled. "Yeah, I am. Hi"

"Hey, how are you?"

After you had gotten through the casual formalities and explained to her what you were doing right now and why you had to call her, you were finally able to drop your first question.

"You remember Tommy Miller?"

A groan from the other line made you giggle. "Oh God... yes, why?"

"Did you know he has a brother?" You wondered.

"Ye-" she gasped, "YES, I do know! Omg yes, of course. Joel, I think his name was."

"Yeah, it is."

"Mm," Izzy hummed. You could hear the smile on her lips through her voice. "He was... Jesus Christ, he was handsome."

You laughed at her reaction. "He still is, to be honest."

"IS HE?!" She almost shouted into the speaker before remembering to keep her voice down as her husband was sleeping only a few rooms away from her.

"Yup, I met him today," you told her.

Another giggle came from her. "Ooooh, how?"

"Tommy was in the bar Maria works at, and he asked me to join him and his friends at a table, and his brother joined in too."

"Aah, okay okay," she nodded her head even though you couldn't see her. "And?"

You sighed, standing up to walk over into the kitchen. "And now I wanted to call you and ask you what you know about him." Your fingers brushed over the counter that desperately needed to be cleaned - you made a mental note.

"To be honest, not that much. He was neither a jock or a nerd or something like that, you know? Just... a guy... a really attractive one though. And he was... I don't know, like... two... three years above me, I think?" You listened to her talk while your eyes raked over the pantry, hoping to find something to snack on before you'd go to bed.

"OH-" She suddenly raised her voice, making you have to pull your phone away from your ear. "He was also a singer." Well, that caught your attention.

"A singer?"

"Yeah," she giggled. "Like a really good one, actually. That's why a lot of girls liked him. He played something on his guitar during one of our musicals. I don't remember which one, though." A singer...

"Interesting," you smirked to yourself at the new information. Plus the fact that you had found the last bits of your favourite chips package in the very back of the pantry.

She hummed in agreement. You could hear shuffling in the background but ignored it. "And," Izzy started again. "There was a rumour about him, but... I don't know if that's true."

"What rumour?"

"Apparently," she made sure to use a different tone with the first word, letting you know that it truly was only a rumour she had been confronted with. "Later in college, he got his high school sweetheart pregnant. When they were like 19 or 20. And that's why she dropped out. But I don't know how true that is."

'Not all of us can't ever leave the house because they had a kid when they were a teenager', you remembered the comment that came from one of Tommy's friends.

If he was two or three years older than your sister... and his daughter is 9...

A rumour... possibly not so much.

"Yeah, I don't think that's a rumour."

"What?!" She gasped. "Seriously?!"

Back on the sofa, you put your hand into the pack of chips and took one out to put into your mouth. "He told me about his daughter. She's nine, so that would work if he had her around 20."

"I don't know, that's too much math for me, but if you say so, I believe you," she rambled before taking a deep breath again. "Wow... I never believed that. He didn't seem like the guy something like that would happen to... especially not in Texas, Jesus... But wait..."

"What?" You wondered with a full mouth after deciding that instead of one, five chips at once sounded much better.

"So, did he really leave his girlfriend, though?"

"Huh?" You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion.

"Some people back then said that they broke up after finding out she was pregnant. Is that true?"

You waited for a second. "Ehm... I don't know, maybe. But the daughter's with him."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah," you swallowed down the content in your mouth before taking two chips again. "He said he'll have to wake her up in the morning because of school."

"Aww," Izzy giggled, "That's cute. Didn't think he'd keep her. Where's the mom then?"

"You know, I originally wanted to ask you all of those questions," you chuckled at the situation, your sister joining in.

"Sorry, I don't remember much else. Like I said, he was older than us, so... yeah." A moment of silence divided you two, only shuffling on her side and crunches from your side filled the phone line. Izzy was the first to break it. "But... do you remember Abigail? I think she had like History with him... I could ask her if you want."

"No," you brushed off her question, "it's not THAT important. I just... wanted to see what you'd know about him."

"Mm," a somewhat sad hum came from her. "A bit nosey, are you?"

You chuckled, "I mean," feeling your cheeks getting slightly warmer than before, "he IS really handsome. And he was really... attentive at the bar."

"You don't care about the age?" She wondered.

You scrunched your eyebrows, deciding you had enough of the chips you remembered to be much better than they actually were. "He's only like 31. That's not that much older."

"Maybe not in your eyes."

"And why would I care about anyone else's?" You asked her, throwing the colourful package onto the coffee table in front of you. "And even- I just- I only wanted to know a few things about him. I don't even know if I, you know... want something from him. Maybe he's got a new girlfriend right now, who knows."

"Okay, but I'm not saying you should throw yourself at him, you idiot," your sister chuckled. "Just... kinda like tiptoe towards him and see where things go. You're pretty, he's handsome, from what I can remember, so it can't hurt."

"Yeah... we'll see... It's very unlikely that I'll ever see him again even-" you stopped yourself for a second before mumbling, "Maybe in the bar again, actually... I don't know."

The next words of your sister went past your attention span as the front door opened. You shot up from your spot in the living room and walked over into the hallway, an already smirking Maria glancing right at you.

"Y/N?" Izzy's voice repeated your name a second time before you caught it.

"Yeah? Sorry, what did you say?" you apologised, motioning frantically for your best friend to take off her shoes and sit down on the couch.

Your sister chortled softly on the other end of the line. "It's alright. I just said I gotta go. I gotta get up earlier than usual tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," you pulled your friend by her arm just as she tried to escape into her room. "Thank you for the info, and I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"Alright, bye," she sang into the phone.

"Bye," you quickly ended the call, flipping your phone closed and throwing it onto one of the cushions.

Maria fell onto the couch with a giggle.

"What the fuck was that?" You snapped at her. "Yeah, it's really late, Maria, you were right."You looked down at your imaginary watch on your wrist before staring at her with raised eyebrows. "It was very necessary that Joel drove me home."

"You are very welcome," she leaned back into the backrest with a smug smile on her lips. "How was the drive?"

"How was-?! How do you think it was?!" You continued to stand right in front of her, arms crossed in front of your chest.

"Honestly," she started with a deep breath, taking the pack of chips from the coffee table into her grip, "going off of the looks you two gave each other, I'm gonna be very surprised if you tell you you didn't do it on the backseat of his car."

You closed your eyes for a moment and pressed your lips together, trying to hold back a burst of laughter that was about to spill. After finding her gaze again, you answered her. "We didn't do it on the backseat of his car."

"What?!" She shouted out. "Are you kiddin' me?! That's disappointing." And shook her head before popping a chip into her mouth.

With a shake of your own head, you made yourself comfortable on one of the single chairs you had placed right next to the sofa.

"I swear to God, that man was eye-fucking you."

"Jesus," you chuckled, a hand brushing over your face and rubbing your eyes.

"No, really. I mean, he was doing it respectfully, which kinda confused me, not gonna lie. But he still looked at you a little too hot and bothered. And girl," her smirk only grew when she eyed you closely, "I thought you were about to lick his skin the way you were looking at him."

You couldn't hold back your laughter any longer. With a loud chortle, you leaned forward, hiding your face behind your hands. Maria joined you.

"I'm serious!" She laughed out loud.

You looked up at her. Your face now clear red as you realised you got caught, "I mean... I wanted to."

"I knew it!" She jumped up, throwing the package of chips into your lap. "I knew it! You ain't sly, girly!"

For a few moments longer, the two of you shared rounds of giggles before you could catch yourself again and sat back down normally.

"Yeah, well..." you shrugged, brushing some hair out of your face.

Maria snatched the chips package back again. "Then why not in his car?"

"Ths situation wasn't like that. We... we talked. I honestly didn't think that he was even looking at me the way you just described it," chuckling again at the memory of the words she had chosen.

"Yeah, well... I've seen enough men at bars and how they look at women, so... yeah," she shook her head slightly. "He did it exactly like that, just, like I said, with... a little bit more respect- I don't know how to explain it."

"It's okay," you giggled, stopping her by showing her the palm of your hand.

After she finished the rest of the chips, she threw the now empty package next to her onto the sofa, the thought of the last bits of crumbles possibly falling between the seat cushions made you shiver.

"So, how was the drive? Seriously."

You shrugged. "It was good. We had a nice conversation. I talked about college, he talked about his daughter-"

"Listen, I'm not one for dads. But..."

"Hot." You ended the sentence for her.

"So hot," she agreed with you, biting down on her lip. "He really is quite attractive."

You nodded along with her before speaking up again, "I called my sister just now," nudging your head towards the flip phone you had thrown onto the couch. "And asked her about him because they went to school together-"

"And?"

"Not much else. She doesn't really know a lot about him. Just that he used to sing apparently, and... he's a young dad."

"What about the mother of the kid?"

You could only shrug again. "No clue. Izzy said that the rumour is- or, there was a rumour that he left the girl that he got pregnant in college. BUT... he said that he needs to get up early because of her school tomorrow... so, I'm confused."

"Maybe... he got another kid? So not the kid from the pregnant High School girl, but from someone a little later?" She wondered out loud.

No, you had done the math correctly. "Very unlikely. Because Izzy's 27 now. And she said Joel was about two or three years above her, which would make him around 30 now. And in the car, he told me that his daughter is turning 10 this year. If we're going just by estimations, it would work that he had her around 20 and not going to college because of it. I doubt that he left his high school sweetheart that he got pregnant at 20, only to keep the kid he got from another woman when he was 21. I mean- everything's possible, but I doubt it."

Maria blinked at you. Twice. "You're confusing me with your calculations, but damn... you really thought a lot about that, huh?"

You let your head fall back with a chuckle. "I had some time, yeah." Then a groan echoed through the room. "Ugh, but I don't even know if or when I'd be able to see him again."

"But you know Tommy, maybe he can help," Maria tried to explain, but you glared at her with an unamused facial expression.

"I'm not gonna ask him to tell me where his brother is or to give me his number, Maria."

She looked at you with a somewhat surprised look, before standing up and raising her hands in defence. "I'm just trying to help you here, okay?"

"Yeah I know, but he could also be in a relationship for all we know."

"Not with the way-"

"He was looking at me, I know, I know, blah blah blah-" A sudden cushion that was thrown at your face made you shut your mouth. You were about to argue back, but Maria beat you to it, pointing a strict finger at you, while her other hand had made a ball out of the chips package.

"Don't 'blah blah blah' me."

You chuckled at her reaction. She scoffed as she turned towards the kitchen.

Just as you thought the conversation was over and she was on her way out, she stopped to take a quick look at you.

"I think that if he was a real gentleman and if the looks he gave you were real, he'll find a way to contact you. It's a small town, it can't be that hard." With her last statement, she exited the room, leaving you sunken into the armchair.

If, if, if...

What if you could find a way to contact him?

Part 2

joel taglist: @corvusmorte @aniia-x3

pedro taglist: @leslieelainetrask

#Joel miller x reader #Joel miller #hbo!joel miller #tlou #the last of us #Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal!joe miller #x reader #fluff #finding something to fight for #Tommy miller #hbo!tlou #Pedro pascal x reader #pre!outbreak joel

147 notes · View notes

minzis · 6 months

Text

I’ll Crawl Home To Her

✦❘༻Summary: Keegan’s finally back from one of the longest deployments he’s had since you’ve been together. Since the last time you spoke the gap between you was only furthering by the day.

✦❘༻Tags: Angst turned to comfort? 1.3k words.

✦❘༻A/N: This fic is based off ‘Work Song,’ by Hozier :3

•┈୨♡୧┈•

His loud footsteps followed the slam of the front door. You rose in excitement rushing towards the door. "Keegan?" You called his name out with a bright smile on your face. It had been months since you've seen each other. A long aching 6 month deployment, you stood a few feet in-front of him as he stayed near the doorway. He wasn't smiling with his usual wide grin. He wasn't scooping you up in his arms kissing at you like his life depended on it.

He was standing there bags on the floor with a grim look on his face. What was worse then it all something told you that the sadness in his face was meant for you. As if you had done him wrong and tore him apart mercilessly. Your hand clung at your chest, shirt wrinkling between your fingers as if it would sooth the sudden pangs in your heart.

It was hurting in a way you weren’t sure you could fix, racing erratically. The pounding in your chest that was almost deafening. You weren’t sure if you should reach for him asking what had happened? What you must’ve done so damning or was this it?

He’s finally going to say it wasn’t he? You stiffened under his gaze as you broke apart, praying the the words would never come. ‘I want to break up,’ you knew it was coming the signs were continuous. Your heart couldn’t take it, you were going to say no. Beg him to stay, beg him too love you one more time. Your eyes watered at the thought of him leaving of that door and never coming back and it only furthered the pain.

You bit down on your lip harshly the taste of metallic coating your tongue as you remembered the last time you two were face to face. You yelled, he yelled, a screaming match between who could be the loudest. It was a stupid fucking argument hell you couldn’t even remember why you were ever mad at him in the first damn place.

The thought of pleading, even begging for forgiveness of the words you hardly remember saying during the argument. You knew you didn’t mean them. A lump formed in your throat as you choked back a sob. He stared at you with an expression you’ve never seen him make. You blinked back the tears that threatened to fall at any moment choosing to speak before he could.

“Don’t leave me.”

“Why didn’t you reply to my letters?”

Your voices lapped over each other both looking up at the same time surprised by the other. Both sounding like desperate pleads. “Letters?” it was a one worded question as you looked over him stepping closer. “I wrote you every week? And you never replied!?” He was shaking, his voice sounded pained as he spoke. Letters? There were letters, “you wrote me?” It was a question but one for yourself as you tried to understand the situation. Nearly feeling sick as you replayed every scenario over in your head.

“Keegan what letters?” Another question this time for him, he looked confused as if you were simply trying to joke. You shook your head almost silently confirming his thoughts, “Y/n do you know how many times I wrote you?” He was tapping at his chest almost laced with anger but it never reached you like he was angry with himself. “I poured every ounce of my being into those letters and you never replied?” Rhetorical, spoken in hints of disbelief. Desperation, his hands clinging and pulling at his own hair.

You felt a sense of relief wash over you one that hoped he was still your Keegan. Yet it was quickly formed into a panic, there were letters you never received. Days upon weeks he sat in a stillness that you were ignoring him. He never called cause he was writing instead, his assumptions that he was losing you. Just as you felt you were losing him.

“I never received any letters, I-I thought you-,” your voice crumbled once more, the thought he didn’t love you itching at your brain. The sinking feeling in your chest that never went away as you used to think over the years you’ve spent together. Laughter echoing in the memories of what us used to feel like. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” you choked out looking over his confused eyes.

“You never got any letters?” He questioned in seriousness grabbing at your hands, he looked relieved? Despite the months of pain and anguish at the aching thoughts of coming home to an empty house. A cold house without you to keep it warm. Levels of fear he had only know when it came to the thought of losing you. He let out a chuckle hoping it’d sooth his own pains. You shook your head at his question clinging your arms at his waist.

“I’m telling you I never got any letters,” you clawed at him hoping for all the things he’s heard you say he’d believe this one. That he would understand you would never purposely put him through what must’ve felt like hell. How many times he asked if he had any mail, an answer that always remained the same further crushing his beliefs of being happy with you.

“I don’t know wether to be relieved or upset,” he laughed weakly as you rested your head on his chest. The restlessness left your body as you felt a sense that you and him were going to be fine. “I thought I lost you and that you didn’t want-,” he didn’t even allow you to finish the sentence cutting you off his hands moving too your face.

The warmth of his hands soaking through as they always used too. How they always should be, “Y/n, l’ve never love someone as much as I love you." His voice paused as it seemed he was choking back his own cries. “You are who I live and breath for, the person who keeps my heart beating so don’t you ever dare think that I could ever stop loving you,” you sniffled in repose unable to stop the tears any longer. His hands pulled at yours placing it over his heart. “You feel that? It’s yours, all yours and it will only ever be yours. I will never be capable of loving someone that isn’t you.” His heart raced underneath your palm as your cries turned into sobs.

“I love you more than words will ever describe,” your voice cracked and splintered as the words poured out from you. “And it frightens me Keegan,” your heart whispered sitting open on a platter coated in prays he wouldn’t drop it. Wishes that he’d only ever love you and you alone for the rest of your lives.

The man who you wanted to grow old with, each grey hairs showing the years you’ve spent together. How could you ever dare to think he didn’t love you? As if he’d ever give up on being with you. He kissed the top of your forehead, his fingers wiping at your tears. He was trembling as he held you, his chin resting up on top of your head. Scared is what he had been all them months, scared of loosing the last thing he’d ever care for more than himself.

“I love you,” he repeated once more to make sure you heard, that you knew. You could only cry harder with this shaking feeling it was suddenly going to up and disappear. “Promise, I need you to promise me you’ll always come back through that door,” your fingers dug at the edges of his jacket in fear he’d still change his mind. “Always and forever,” he whispered.

#keegan p russ #keegan russ x reader #cod keegan #keegan x reader #keegan angst #angst with a happy ending #cod x reader #call of duty keegan #angst to comfort #bruh my head hurts literally send help #minzis suga

226 notes · View notes

messedupfan · 2 months

Text

Chapter 14

Summary: It's the new year! There's a new development in Reader and Wanda's friendship. Jean and Anna have a very important question for reader. And Rachel witnesses something special.

A/n: Hellllloooooo!! I hope y'all are having a good day. Anyone watch Love is Blind? Every season upsets me more than the last. Anyway, comment, like, reblog, and enjoy!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist | All Chapters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time you stopped staying with Wanda, the pillow wall ceased to exist. The pair of you were comfortable enough to share the space together on the bed and not overthink it. At least that's what you told each other to be able to hold one another at night. On the Sunday that Vision was meant to come for the boys, he called Wanda early in the morning. You were confused and exhausted when you accidentally picked up the phone. Your eyes went wide when you realized that you answered the wrong phone. You quickly put it on mute and woke Wanda up. She had to put on a fake voice to try and match yours. It was a hilarious attempt and she had to hit you to get you to laugh quietly. You just climbed out of bed to use the restroom.

When you came back, Wanda had her face in her hands. You rejoined her on the bed and she leaned against you once you were settled in. “Vision extended his trip. He said he'll pick them up next Sunday. Which, I'm okay with having them longer. Of course. I love them and I mean, they love you and Rachel so I'm sure that a part of them will be okay with it. But,” she shut her eyes and shook her head as you put your arm around her. “They're going to be so disappointed. I don't even know what I can say? What do you say to a kid when their dad would rather spend the holidays with his new family?”

You frowned as you rubbed her arm. Even though you knew the question was rhetorical, you felt inclined to answer because you've been that kid before. “My mom wouldn't tell me. She wouldn't even make an excuse on his behalf. She would just distract me with so much fun that I wouldn't even know how long it was until I finally did see my dad.”

“Do you think that will work?” She rubbed her finger under her nose. You laughed lightly as you shook your head.

“No, definitely not. Those kids are too smart for that. But, I think I do know something that might work,” you began to remind her of the night before when the boys were bummed by the idea that they had to go with their father because they wanted to stay and have fun with Rachel. “Just say that you asked Vision to let you have the boys a little bit longer and he agreed to let them stay until school starts again.”

And she took your advice, while you were in the shower, she went to the boys room and told them exactly what you suggested. They were so happy and they hugged her so tight she almost felt guilty lying to them. One of the hardest lessons she learned about being a parent was accepting that she did in fact have to lie to her children on occasion. She already had to tell them that she asked to have Christmas with them and they accepted that because Rachel was still in the hospital at the time and they knew their dad wouldn't take them to visit her. They were confused when they spent time with their dad's side of the family and he wasn't there but they had so much fun with their uncle Tony that it didn't matter. He chased them around and wrestled with them when Vision would have yelled at them for running and he would have punished them for playing around so much.

The twins loved their dad but they didn't miss him.

Wanda hosted a New Year’s Eve party that included her mom, the Starks, her brother and his family, plus her friends. You got to invite your friends, Steve and his partner Peggy, the new guy on the job site Thor, and Darcy. A girl you met on a dating app one time and the two of you decided to be friends after. It was rare for her to be in town because she is a political science major who is interning for doctor Jane Foster while she worked on getting her own doctorate. The internship had her traveling a lot. She brought Jane with her because she claimed that the woman was a shut-in. But with the way she almost instantly gravitated to Thor, you couldn't tell.

You also invited Bucky, another work friend, and he brought a girl he'd started seeing a couple of months prior. A woman named Natasha. When she entered the house she appeared to be on edge. So did Wanda at first, you figured you'd have to ask her about it when you got the chance. After a bit, they both relaxed.

Of course, Anna and Jean were in attendance as well. They kept wanting to tease you about co-hosting but with so many of your co-workers and your boss being there, they let it slide. You acted as a guest and the kids knew not to mention the living arrangement.

“So, who are you kissing at midnight?” Darcy asks as she joins you outside on the patio. You needed a break from the party and it was a nice night despite the low temperature. “Me or the hostess?” She smirks then takes a sip from her blue disposable cup.

You shake your head as you drink from your cup. “I’m not kissing anyone at midnight.” The kids were all in the boys room and you’d hate for them to run down the stairs and confuse them because you and Wanda kissed. They were already confused because one of the nights, Billy came running in from having a nightmare and caught you in the bed. Up until then, you and Wanda were telling them that you were sleeping on the couch. You got away with telling Billy that you also had a nightmare and he seemed to have bought the excuse as he climbed in and created space between you and Wanda so that he could snuggle with his mom.

“Oh come on, that’s no fun,” Darcy nudges you. “Tell you what, I’ll kiss Agatha so you’ll have to kiss Wanda.”

You narrow your eyes, “You just want to kiss Agatha.”

She made a face as she laughed, “No, I just want you to kiss Wanda.”

“How much money is involved,” you ask, knowing the people that are inside. Darcy tries to deny that there’s a bet circulating around the party and eventually gives up. You look inside of the house through the windows on the doors and watch Wanda laugh as something her sister-in-law says. Things weren’t complicated with her but you were constantly afraid that they would become complicated. “I’m not kissing her so that you and whoever else is involved can win a bet.”

“Pietro was the one who started it so,” she takes another drink, “do you really want your boss to lose.” The look she gives you confirms your unspoken question of which side of the bet Pietro was on. You couldn’t believe that he bet that you would kiss his sister at midnight. You shake your head again and finish what’s left in your cup.

“I need another drink,” you say as you get up from your seat and walk inside. Instead of refilling your cup, you toss it into the trash. Your eyes keep finding Wanda in the small crowd as you move about the gathering talking with the different people there. You liked getting to know Tony Stark but her laugh kept grabbing your attention. One of the times she catches your gaze and mouths a hello with a cute smile. You smile back and mouth, “Hey.”

As it got closer to the countdown to midnight, you walked upstairs to check on the kids. All of them had made themselves comfortable either on a bed or on the floor. Luna and Rachel have taken the beds, the twins and Agatha’s son are on the floor. The tv was left playing a movie and you carefully turn it off since all of them are asleep. You put blankets over the three boys and tuck the girls into the beds a bit more. You don’t realize that Wanda is watching you until you look up to leave the room. You smile as you stand in the room of sleeping children and strategically step around them to avoid waking them up.

You leave the door open a crack once you step out into the hallway, “I can move the girls out of the room in a little bit.” You whisper as you step closer to her. “I’m buzzed right now and would hate to drop any of them,” the truth is, you’d hate to wake any of them right now.

Wanda looks at you with admiration as she continues to smile, “It’s okay. I think they’ll be fine for the night. I um, I actually wanted to warn you about something.”

“There’s a bet on whether or not we’ll kiss tonight?” Wanda nods to confirm that’s what she was going to talk to you about. “What do you think about it?”

She shrugs, “I think if we do, it wouldn’t be a big deal. It’s not like we haven’t before.” You nod.

“But?” You anticipate.

“But, I don’t want my brother to win,” she says mischievously. “Have you heard what side he’s on?” She asks and this might be the only time in your life that you don’t regret lying when you shake your head. The two of you walk down the stairs as you hear everyone counting down.

“How are the kiddos?” Pietro asks as the countdown continues.

“They’re all knocked out,” you inform him. He nods and is pulled in closer by his wife as they get to ten. You look around to find Jane and Thor gazing at one another, nine. Tony and his fiance, Pepper are holding each other close, eight. Agatha and Darcy each have an arm around each other's necks as they both face the television, seven. Mrs. Maximoff is sitting on the sofa with a big grin as she counts down, six. Howard is next to her with his head tilted back as he snores loudly and his wife Maria is next to him counting with a martini glass in her hand, five. Carol is kissing Val each second that is announced, four. Natasha is sitting on Bucky’s lap while he sits on the recliner with her arm around his neck and his around her waist, three. Jean and Anna pull each other closer as they prepare to end the count down, two. That leaves you standing close to Wanda, one.

“Happy New Year!” Everyone cheers as the countdown on the television concludes and they each exchange a kiss with their partners. You keep your hands yourself as you give Wanda an innocent chaste kiss on the lips. It’s quick, you’re not sure if anyone caught it. She smiles as she moves closer to her mom and kisses her on the cheek as she wishes her a happy new year.

“Awe boo!” Darcy says as she digs for cash out of her pockets. The others that bet on you and Wanda sharing a kiss toss their money in the decorative bowl at the center of the coffee table. You wink at Wanda as Pietro shakes his head and puts money in the bowl. Wanda’s eyes widen ever so slightly before she continues to play dumb about the bet. The both of you fake being upset and make it clear that whatever is between the two of you is purely platonic.

From the top of the stairs, Rachel hobbles back to Tommy and Billy’s room to hide the fact that she saw the whole thing.

When Sunday comes back around, you get up early to get packed. School starts again on Monday so that meant you and Rachel didn’t need to stay with Wanda anymore. It sucks because you wish that you could have an excuse to be here longer but seeing as none of the kids will be in the house in the upcoming week, there isn’t a reason for you to stay.

You hug the boys and thank them for being so helpful with Rachel as you say goodbye. They each give you a tight hug before running off to get ready for their dad to pick them up. Wanda called him early to confirm that he will be here for them in the afternoon. He sounded annoyed and convinced her to drop them off at his house since he was recovering from his trip.

Wanda pulls you into a warm embrace to say goodbye for the time being. You’ve had to resist kissing her the entire week. You wished that you hadn’t done it on New Year’s Eve. She didn’t make it easy either. Too many times the two of you ended up too close to each other. Wanda was getting frustrated that you weren’t getting the signals that she wanted something more from you.

When the pair of you pull back from this hug, you and Wanda hold eye contact for a moment. Both of you are considering leaning towards each other. That is, until Tommy and Billy start shouting at each other. Wanda sighs and steps out of your arms. “I’ll text you later,” you say as you grab your bag to take to the car. Rachel and her bags are already in your truck.

You help your daughter out of the truck when you arrive at her mom's house and you only take one of her bags inside since you need to keep the rest at your apartment. Jean and Anna give you weird looks when you're inside and you're curious as to why but you don't question it. “I'll see you guys next Sunday,” you say as you're about to leave.

“Hold on,” Anna says as she grabs your arm to stop you. “Can you um…” her words seem to fail her.

“Do you mind staying for tea,” Jean finishes for her. You look between the two of them and notice that something is up with them. You fear that they're about to tell you that their marriage is over so you nod and allow Jean to drag you over to the living room. “So, we wanted to thank you for giving us some extra time to ourselves.”

“Okay,” you drag out as you eye her carefully. “What's going on?”

Jean gives you a nervous smile, “Just wait for the tea. Okay?” You nod and sit quietly. There's an awkward tension looming in the atmosphere. You were worried about what they're going to tell you and they are nervous to ask you something very important to them.

Anna comes in with a tray of three steaming mugs a few minutes later. “You haven't asked them yet, right?” Jean shakes her head as she waits for her wife to get settled. You accept your cup of tea with a close mouth smile and nod.

“Okay,” Jean starts as she sets her mug down. “Anna and I were wondering if you'd consider making another baby,” you’re about to laugh considering you just went through a break up, “with me?” She concludes. You spit your tea out at the absurd question. “I should have waited for you to swallow,” Jean says as she gets up to grab a dish towel to clean up the mess but Anna pulls her back down.

“Are you crazy?” You ask as you set the tea back onto the tray. “You tell me that you can barely afford Rachel and you want to add a newborn to your expenses?” You shout in a whisper. You don't want Rachel to get curious and walk in and get excited about having another sibling.

“Listen, we talked about that. With the budgets the three of us have come up with-”

“And the GoFundMe!” Anna chimes in.

“Yes, and the GoFundMe that we set-up for the medical bills, I think we'll be able to get that covered. And it takes nine months to make the baby. Anna and I can get to a better place financially in nine months,” Jean explains.

“Can you?” You nearly shout out loud. “Look, it's not just nine months of you growing a person. It's doctors appointments, it's prenatal vitamins, it's baby clothes and toys and furniture. We got rid of all that stuff a long time ago. It's not like you have hand-me-downs.” With your pointer finger, you tap the fingers on your other hand as you list the reasons. “Not to mention how expensive IVF can be.”

Jean and Anna share a look, “We weren't thinking about doing this through IVF. It's safer and more cost efficient to go the more natural route.” Anna is the one to suggest this.

You stick your neck out and slowly blink as you widen your eyes. You cannot believe what you're hearing. “You really just suggested that I fuck your wife?”

“You don't have to be so crude about it,” Anna chides. “I plan on being present and it wouldn't be wrong for you to fornicate with my wife. It's purely for reproductive purposes.” You cringe at the medical terms she uses to describe the act she is asking of you. It makes you want to throw up. “I don't understand what is so difficult about it, you've done it with her before.”

You slowly close your hands into fists, not because you intend to use them but because air was the only thing you could grasp without hurting yourself. “I was in love, we were in love. Rachel was created from love.”

“And this baby would be too,” Jean argues. “We care deeply about each other, Y/n.” She tries to take one of your hands in hers but you recoil, disgusted by the touch you once found comforting.

You shake your head, “That's not the same and you know it.” You take a few breaths to calm down before you get too worked up and as your mind clears from the shock, you are able to come up with a reasonable argument. “You two might be ready to have another kid, but I'm not ready. I can't take that on financially or even emotionally right now. Besides, there is so much that happens during their first few developing years that I wouldn't want to miss when passing them back and forth.” They share another look and you already know they've thought about a crazy solution to that. You're starting to think you should just leave.

“Well, we were thinking that you don't have any parental rights to this one. So that we can have a kid that's ours full time. We really want a baby that we can raise together that's just ours and we chose you to help us with that.” You scowl at this, they're actually asking you to not be present in the life of a child that you're supposed to help bring into this world. You couldn't believe it. “If you think about it, we can't have kids on our own and I really want Rachel to have a sibling that comes from both of us. You've said it yourself, half siblings aren't the sa-”

“Don’t even. I was a kid when I said that! I would never say that now. I love Kate,” you interrupt. “She is my sister.”

“Okay, fine, whatever. You still felt that way at one point,” Jean snaps, annoyed by your lack of support. “You can go off and have as many kids as you want with whoever you want. We only have so much time to do this and we used to talk about having another kid.” Jean tries hard to convince you that this is a good idea but it only sounds more and more bizarre.

“When we were together,” you remind her as if she was an idiot. At this point, you're starting to wonder. “Those plans disappeared the second we signed the divorce papers.” You look between the women that you have tried again and again to support and defend. When Jean introduced Anna to her parents, they weren't accepting of the relationship at all. It took you the better part of a year to get her parents to tolerate the relationship. They still held out hope that you and their daughter would reunite at some point. They knew a few couples that split up only to marry each other again a few years later. Then came the wedding last February, Jean's family didn't want to attend because they didn't want to believe it was happening. You made sure they came.

Now here they are, asking more out of you. With what return? What do you get out of this other than a few traumatic nights and a child you won't be allowed to raise but know is part of you? Then you think about Rachel and how when she would play with her baby dolls, they weren't ever her children. They were her siblings. You've had many talks with her in the past about why she doesn't have any siblings and she has expressed how she doesn't want to be an only child. You put your face in your hands as you realize that she's already ten and she'll be eleven soon enough. You had thought your eight year age gap between you and Kate was pretty big, and when you thought about having kids you always saw yourself having kids with small age gaps. That was until you had Rachel at seventeen.

“We're not expecting an answer now,” Jean finally says. “Just please, consider it before you say no.”

You sigh as you can't believe that you're actually going to think this over. “Okay,” you rise and walk out of the house. You drive to the nearest liquor store, the one you met Wanda at and buy a couple of bottles of the vodka she had suggested. As soon as you got home, you drank until you passed out to forget about the asinine request.

You overworked yourself all week, being the first one on site and the last one to leave. Someone needs to be focused on paying off those medical bills and not trying to rack up more of them. The work keeps you from thinking about what Jean and Anna asked. You couldn't believe that is a real idea they discussed and thought was okay to run by you. When you got home, you had a bottle of vodka with a side of instant noodles.

On Friday, your coworkers, Bucky and Thor, ask that you join them on a night out and you accept. You invite Steve as well because Bucky took a liking to him but wasn't sure if he could invite the guy himself. You thought it was funny that he was being weird about it but you didn't catch how flustered he was when you informed him that Steve accepted the invite. Then Thor requested that you invite Darcy and her friend. He tried to play coy but you know that he really liked Jane. He was just the idiot that forgot to call her the next day. He claimed that he waited too long and now he needed your help. You didn't mind extending it, he was a decent guy from what you've gathered.

A couple of hours later and you're drunk enough to start spilling your guts. Starting with how much you miss Daisy before getting into the real problem. Jean and Anna's request. Shocking everyone at the booth. The guys all agree that you shouldn't do it but Darcy plays devil's advocate and says that she knows someone that could help at no cost at all because they owed her a favor. “It's not just the sex that's the problem, Darcy,” you try to explain. “I can't just pretend it's not my kid. If I were someone that didn't mind that kind of thing, sure, I'd do it. But I'm not that person, I would want involvement.”

She puts her hand on your back and rubs soothing circles. It would be comforting if it wasn't her touch. You begin to yearn for Wanda’s touch again. You didn't realize how much you missed it. There is a loud group of people that are being disruptive and it puts you in a bad mood as you start to miss the Hub being your go to. You doubt Phil would let you step into that building ever again.

“Anyone want more? I'll get the next round,” you stand up even though you barely can and Darcy takes notice as she quickly joins you. Buck and Steve have engrossed themselves in a separate conversation. Jane and Thor were practically eating each other's faces. She gave him the cold shoulder when she arrived but he was able to crash through her walls pretty quickly.

While you wait at the bar for the drinks, someone falls against Darcy and she complains about her arm hurting. That triggers something protective in you and you grab the person to try and get them to apologize. They spit in your face and you shove them. Your friends are quick to escort you out of the bar before you get into something you'll regret.

“Give me your phone,” Darcy says as she digs through your pockets.

“Hey, that's my phone,” you try to grab it but you're really out of it. Bucky and Steve are both holding you up, they didn't realize that you had drank so much. They exchanged worried glances as they held onto you. Thor and Jane were busy trying to calm the person you pushed.

Wanda’s week was quite uneventful. She worked quietly on the project she was assigned. With the spare time she has in her day, she worked on her passion project. The dream house she one day hoped to build on a land she's trying to buy now. She doesn't want to continue to be limited by this house. The house that's so full of nightmares. There were good memories here, like the boys learning how to crawl and eventually walk, but it wasn't enough to erase the negative energy that has embedded itself within the walls like black mold.

She was planning on inviting her girls over on Friday but she really only wanted to be hanging out with you. Because of that feeling, she invited someone to sleep with instead. She needed to get you out of her head. You were starting to consume her every thought. Even when she worked on the plans for her dream house. Would Y/n like this much natural light if I add this wall of windows? Wouldn't they like a woodworking space, like my father had? Maybe Rachel needs a room… she dropped her pencil and scrapped the paper. She didn't need to be thinking about that.

Wanda was kicking the girl, Jessica, that she had over when her phone started ringing. Her heart jumped at the goofy picture of you with the caller ID that you had set, covering her screen. “Hey you,” she greets as she shuts the door. “What's up?”

“Wanda, keep it in your pants.” Wanda moves the phone from her face as she doesn't recognize the voice. It was still your contact information. “This is Darcy. We met last week,” she says with an urgency. This gets Wanda’s heart to race with worry.

“What's wrong with Y/n? Why are you calling me from their phone?” She asks as she searches for her keys. Ready to be driving to the hospital.

“They're fine for the most part. I think.” She goes quiet for a second. “Look, they're really wasted and I was wondering if you could pick them up?” Darcy asks nervously. “No stop! Hey! Y/n, don't do that! Steve, Bucky, get them!” Darcy shouts away from the phone but Wanda can hear everything she says. Wanda shakes her head. So far she hadn't known you to be the drunk type. She'd seen you have a few drinks and get a buzz but she hasn't seen you in such a state that your friends have had to parent you.

Wanda sighs, “Text me the location. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay, thank you,” Darcy sounds distracted. “Damnit, Y/n, why do you have a flask! Stop drinking!” Is the last thing Wanda hears before the call drops. She sits in her car for a few minutes before she receives the text of the location. It was a bar close to her house and she was there in no time at all. She doesn't even have to get out of the car to help you inside because Steve and Bucky shove you into the front seat.

“Wanda!” You say happily as you realize whose car you've been dumped into. Your eyes are closed but you recognize the scent you had been wrapped up in for two weeks. “Where's Wanda? I want to say hi,” you mutter as you start to get sleepy.

“Here's their phone,” Darcy says as she stands at Wanda's side of the car. “Don't let them call or text anyone. They're going through something with the ex and you have to make sure that they don't say something they'll regret.”

Wanda is confused, “What happened between Y/n and Daisy?”

“Oh no, honey,” Darcy smiles, “Not that ex. This is baby momma drama. You'll have to ask Y/n about that one in the morning. It's not my place to go into the details.”

Wanda nods in acknowledgement. “Thank you for calling me. Does anyone else need a ride, I'd be happy to -”

“Nope, we're good. Just focus on Y/n. Maybe try to get some water in them.” Darcy taps the car. “Good luck,” she waves as she rejoins the group on the sidewalk. Wanda drives you back to her house and helps get you inside. She didn't realize how heavy you could be when you're not holding your weight yourself. But she manages.

“I’m sorry I drank too much, Wanda,” you mutter as you lean against her on the sofa. She was trying to get you to drink some water before she attempted to move you up the stairs.

“That's okay, just drink this now,” she says as she puts the plastic cup against your lips. You take a sip and nearly spit it out as you show your disgust.

“Poison,” you exclaim. “Gah, what is that? It's awful,” you say as you lean away from it.

“It's water,” she leans closer to you. “Drink it!” She demands.

You make a face and take the cup and chug the whole thing. “I think my body is rejecting it. I need to chase it down with something. Do you have any vodka?” You complain and Wanda shakes her head.

“What did Jean do to you?” Wanda asks herself and you laugh maniacally when you catch her name.

“She wants my baby,” you answer. And Wanda is concerned that there is going to be some sort of custody battle. She can't think of why there would be. Unless Jean has a better job opportunity somewhere else.

“She can't take Rachel from you,” Wanda says as she gets up to refill the cup.

“Not that baby!” You shout. “My other baby. Er. A new one. She wants a new one and she doesn't want me to have it.” Wanda relaxes a bit, still confused but at least it's not something that will necessarily disrupt Rachel’s life. She walks over and claims the cup of water is vodka. You drink it as if it was the first drink you’d ever had in your life. “That’s the good stuff right there, what’s that brand?”

She is standing in front of you as she waits for you to finish the beverage. “I’ll tell you in the morning so that you don’t forget.” When you’re don’t she reaches for the cup and instead of handing it over, you grab her by the wrist and pull her to land on top of you. She tries to push herself up but you catch her lips in a sloppy kiss. “What are you doing?” She whispers as she pulls away.

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” you reply.

She shakes her head, “You’re drunk.”

“So?” You ask as you try to kiss her again. This time she is able to slip out of your grasp.

“So, this isn’t happening,” Wanda doesn’t go into how she’d be taking advantage of you since you’re so wasted and she hasn’t had a drop of alcohol all week. She doesn’t remind you of why you rejected her before or mention that she refuses to be a rebound for you. “Let's get you to bed,” she says as she lifts you up by your arm. You shake your head, disappointed by the rejection but comply.

You're a little wobbly as you walk up the stairs. Wanda is closely behind you to ensure your safe ascent. You stop in front of her open bedroom door. Uncertain if she wants you to stay with her. But you decide that it's not her decision to make. So you move to the guest room. Wanda doesn't argue as she collects a bottle of painkillers and fills the cup again. She leaves the items on the nightstand beside you. You fell asleep the second your head hit the pillow. You snored softly and Wanda was surprised because you never snored during the time you stayed with her.

“I'll see you in the morning,” she says while she flips the light switch off and shuts the bedroom door. Wanda grabs the pillow that smells like you out of her closet and sets it on her bed before she gets in her pajamas. She crawls into bed and clutches the pillow to her chest as she inhales your scent in order to fall asleep.

Chapter 15

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @thatshyboy1998 @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiofthemultifandom @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon @raven-ss @canyonyodeler @sokovianbaby @alexawynters @bittysworld @hopeless-romantic17177 @spongebobtentacles

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff au #wonderstruck #wonderstruck series #messedupfan #wanda fanfic #wanda marvel #darcy lewis #jane foster #thor odinson #jean grey #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #peggy carter #tony stark #pepper potts #pietro maximoff

76 notes · View notes