#I will have to get over it very quickly though. You will all see why in a few days
Note
Helloooooo
I'm newer to your page ive been slowly reading your amazing stories.. are you still doing your prompt list stories?? I seen 3 that could work.. 40,42 and 43.. and it made me think or something possibly like this..
Eddie and (maybe plus sized) reader have been together for a while.. she sees a pretty girl/groupie flirting with him after the show (but she doesn't see him walking away from her or telling her that hes taken/not interested.. Reader just gets feral when they get home.. not realizing she's ovulating or something.. and just like gets her frustration out by begging Eddie to claim her fully or something..
sorry my brain has been all over the place.. I just can't get enough of him amd some stories have brought out some sides of me that i didnt know i had haha)
Hope that made sense.. I have a hard time getting what I have in my brain out.. which is why I don't write haha
Hello, lovely! Welcome! Thanks for the request!
Not proofread!
Eddie x fem!shy!plus size!reader
cw: MDNI 18+, smut (p in v), unprotected sex, fingering (f receiving) oral (f receiving), mention of pregnancy
Ever since you and Eddie had gotten together, he had made your relationship his entire personality. He would mention you every chance he got, letting everyone know that he was a taken man and that he was very lucky to have you. Whether it was in an interview, he talking about one of the many songs he had written about you, or introducing you to someone, it didn’t matter. He was so obsessed with you and had to let everyone know just how much he loved you.
Amongst his many nicknames for you, “my girl” was by far his favorite. He used it so often, so much love behind the words that it was clear to everyone that he was head over heels for you. He’d even go as far as singing the song to you while you made breakfast together, spinning you around the kitchen as the lyrics fell from his lips.
“This? Oh, my girl got it for me.”
“The next song is about my girl. I hope you enjoy it.”
“Everyone, I’d like you to meet my girl.”
You were his favorite topic of conversation to the point where it seemed that everyone knew that he was taken just by how much he brought you up in conversation, often unprompted. And anyone who didn’t know or did and flirted with him anyway, he would shut them down so quickly once he realized what was happening. He already had the best thing and wouldn’t have dreamed of ruining it.
You entered the concert venue as everyone was packing things up for the night. Corroded Coffin had just finished a show which you hadn’t been able to get to until after your shift at the bar down the street. You felt horrible for missing it even though Eddie had insisted that it was okay. He just appreciated that you were going to be there at all with your very busy schedule.
You were let in through the back doors and made your way down the hallway to find the all too familiar mop of hair. He was usually waiting right by the door for you, but he wasn’t there. You were starting to panic, but tried to calm yourself down, telling yourself that maybe he was in the bathroom or grabbing his belongings.
You looked all around the building until you spotted him outside his dressing room…talking to a girl. She was beautiful and she was making him laugh. She reached up and touched his hair and instead of stepping in like you knew you should have, you just turned on your heel to leave. You couldn’t watch another second.
What you hadn’t seen when you turned your back was Eddie removing the girls hand from his hair before dropping it. Now he understood what was happening. He took a step back from her until his back almost hit the door.
The thing about Eddie was that sometimes he wasn’t even aware that he was being flirted with. That was something that he still wasn’t used to after years in the industry because of the treatment he had received back home. He just thought they were being friendly until the touches came into play and that was always telltale sign. And then he’d let them down easy, not wanting to hurt their feelings, letting them know that his girl was waiting for him back home.
“Oh,” his eyes widened. “I’m so sorry. I have a girlfriend.” The girls face fell and she almost seemed disgusted by the fact that he was in a relationship.
“Oh,” she pouted. He always felt bad, letting the girls down, but he knew that one of his band mates would be happy to take them off his hands.
“But you know what? I heard that Gareth is looking for someone to take home, if you’re interested,” he winked and her face lit up again.
“Really?”
“Really,” Eddie nodded and opened the dressing room door where the other members of the band were hanging out. “Go get ‘em.”
The girl entered the room and Eddie let out a sigh of relief before turning to his left only to see you turning the corner. He didn’t know where you were going. You always waited for him so he didn’t understand why you were walking away.
He took off, racing after you so he could catch up. He almost tripped a few times, but he got to you, draping an arm over your shoulder as he fell into step with you.
“There’s my girl,” he let out a contented sigh before pressing a kiss to your temple. He tucked you into his side but couldn’t help but notice that you weren’t grabbing a hold of him like you usually did. You always had to be touching him so something was clearly off.
“Nothing to say, hm?” he asked, his lips still pressed to your skin. You weren’t usually talkative after work because you were usually overstimulated, but you would normally at last give him some sort of greeting.
Had he forgotten an important event? Maybe your birthday? No, that had already passed. Maybe your anniversary? No, that wasn’t until next month. Whatever it was, he definitely needed to apologize.
You and Eddie didn’t fight often, but when you did, it didn’t take very long for you both to make up. He was normally the first to apologize, hating to see the angry look on your face. He just wanted to make everything right so you could cuddle up in your bed. He just wanted you to be happy and hated when he was the one to be the cause of your unhappiness.
But he wanted to wait until you brought up what was bothering you. He never wanted to pry and hoped that you knew that he was willing to listen to whatever was going on in your head, no matter how ridiculous it seemed.
So, you spent the whole walk to his van and the whole ride home talking about your nights. He listened to you tell him about what happened at the bar and he told you how great the show went, not leaving out any detail.
It almost seemed like a normal night except for the obvious tension between the two of you. Neither one of you were going to be the first to bring it up, so it sat between you, like a jack in the box and you both were afraid to crank it first, not wanting to see the thing pop up.
Eddie rested his hand on your thigh like he normally did and even thought you were upset with him, you weren’t going to deny his affection. You loved the way his rough skin felt on yours and you felt like you needed him to show you just how much he wanted you.
You wanted him compliment you as he pounded into you, causing you to let out countless moans. You wanted to feel his lips everywhere. Your neck, your tits, your pussy. You just needed his head between your thighs so badly that you were getting wet just thinking about it.
Eddie pulled up to the house that you shared and was quick to help you out of the van, still keeping a hold of your hand as he opened the garage door. You pulled your hand out of his as soon as the door was open and headed inside.
He needed to beg if he wanted to get lucky. Not that it would take much for you to give in. You would have done anything he told you just by him flashing his million dollar smile, his dark brown eyes shining.
Eddie followed you into the house and up the stairs, noticing how loudly you were stomping as you took each step. He usually liked pissing you off just to get the reaction he liked, but never to this level. He had really fucked up and he didn’t even know what he had done.
You got to your shared room and slammed the door once you were inside. Eddie winced at the sound and decided that he finally had enough. He had to get to the bottom of the problem.
“Alright.” He opened the door, not even bothering to close it. He couldn’t go any longer without knowing why you were so pissed at him. “What’s on your mind?”
How could he not know? He was laughing with another girl then acted like it was nothing? Maybe he wasn’t into you as much as you thought. Maybe what you had wasn’t as special as you had assumed. Maybe this was just the beginning of the end.
“Nothing, Eddie. Let’s just go to bed.” You really weren’t in the mood to start another fight with him.
“No, we’re gonna talk about this.” He put his hands on his hips. Wayne always told him to never go to bed angry and he intended on sticking to that advice.
“Fine, you wanna know what’s wrong?” You crossed your arms over your chest.
“Tell me, angel,” he stepped forward. “Please.”
“I saw you with her.” His eyebrows furrowed, trying to figure out who you could have been talking about.
“With who?” He had no idea what you were referring to and just wanted you to come out and say it.
“The groupie outside your dressing room.” Oh. He had completely forgotten about her as soon as she entered the dressing room. He couldn’t believe you were jealous of her. You were always the only girl on his mind.
“You’re jealous,” he chuckled and you just scoffed. You couldn’t believe that he was laughing at your pain.
“So what if am?” He wasn’t expecting you to admit it so easily, but he appreciated the honesty.
“There’s no need to be jealous, honey,” he rested his hands on your shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “You’re the one I love, remember?”
He had always said the word so easily, so matter-of-fact, as if he was telling you the weather forecast.
“You love me.” You crossed your arms over your chest, needing a little more than that to be convinced.
“Of course I do.” He gave your shoulders another squeeze before sliding his hands down to yours, holding them.
“Prove it.” You raised an eyebrow, challenging him. You wanted proof, needed it in fact.
“What?” He let out a scoff at your words. It wasn’t like you to have so much confidence in your words. You were usually so shy and quiet, but he liked seeing this new side of you.
“Prove it,” you repeated and he just let out another chuckle.
“How am I supposed to do that?” He stopped laughing once he saw you weren’t joking. You meant what you said, but he was going to do whatever you asked. He just wanted you to not be upset with him anymore. He needed to see your pretty smile.
“Beg.” Your eyes darkened as you spoke and Eddie’s widened at how authoritative you had become. You were so hot like this.
“Beg?”
“Beg,” you removed one of your hands from his and pointed to the floor. “On your knees.” He didn’t know why he was finding your bossy behavior so hot, but his dick was definitely hardening.
Eddie lowered himself to the floor, your hands still in his. He looked up at you and you loved seeing him from that point of view. He looked so small unlike his usual tall stature.
“I love you so much, angel,” he said, bringing your hands up to his lips. “So so much. You’re my girl and I’d never even think about cheating on you. You have no reason to be jealous, I swear.”
He grabbed a hold of your waist, burying his face into your stomach. Your hands found their way into his hair, giving his scalp a scratch. You figured he had suffered enough, but just needed one more thing.
“I’m so sorry. I wish you had told me how you were feeling sooner so I could reassure you.”
“I know how you could reassure me.” You were trying to sound flirty, but weren’t sure if you were doing it right. Flirting was always Eddie’s thing.
“How?” He asked, pulling back to look up at you.
“I need you.” Eddie was quick to stand up, trying to understand what you mean.
“I’m right here, honey.” He pulled you into his arms, giving you a tight hug. His hand rubbed your back in a comforting manner and normally, you would have taken that, but not tonight. You needed more. You needed to feel his skin against yours. His cock inside you.
“No, Eddie. I need you.” Your eyes darkened again and he was finally catching on to what you were meaning.
“Oh,” he let out a laugh. “That was all you had to say.” He hands wrapped around your waist and he pulled you into a kiss, capturing your bottom lip between his two. He took no time to lick into your mouth while his hands reached for the bottom of your shirt. He pulled it up over your head and let it fall to the floor.
You unbuttoned his shirt and threw it behind you before attaching your lips to his, taking no time to plunge your tongue into his mouth. You backed him up to the bed and pushed him down onto it before straddling his waist.
“You’re so hot,” he breathed as your lips moved down to his neck, giving it a suck before moving back up to his mouth.
“You’re hotter.” Eddie quickly flipped you over so you were the one on the mattress and you let out a gasp at the sudden movement. He straddled your waist and pinned your wrists to the bed before going straight for your shoulder.
“No, baby. You’re the hottest. Your body is fucking killer.” Eddie loved your body. You weren’t skinny by any means, but that just gave him more love on. He loved pressing kisses to every inch of skin he could find, loving to give special attention to your stretch marks. He thought they were cute and that they made you unique.
“You think so?”
“I know so, honey,” he pulled back to look at you. “Want me to show you?” His face lit up as he said the words and it made you even more wet knowing that he was so happy to show you just how much he liked your body.
“Please,” you whined and he kissed his way down to your chest, pressing a kiss right in the center of it, right above the middle of your bra. “Take it off,” you commanded.
He pressed another kiss to the skin and moved his hands behind your back, unhooking it as slowly as he possibly could. He could hear your sighs of frustration and tried to hold back his chuckle. He very slowly undid each hook and removed the bra completely, letting it clatter to the floor beside the bed.
Eddie then pinned you back down to the mattress and looked down at you with a devilish grin. He was always such a fucking tease.
“You’re even hotter than I remember,” he complimented as he stared down at your tits.
“I got hotter just from last night?”
“Sure did. Now hush, honey. I’m about to do my best work.” He moved one of his hands to your nipple, massaging it with the pad of his thumb, just enough for to make it hard before he brought his mouth to it. He licked a stripe across it before giving it a suck.
“Oh,” you let out a moan and he took that as an invitation to bring it between his teeth giving it a little nibble. “Oh, Eddie.”
He did the exact same thing to the other nipple, eliciting more pretty sounds from you and he was eating it up. He loved that only he could get that reaction from you.
Eddie kissed his way down your stomach and stopped once he got to your waist. He pressed a featherlight peck to each of your stretch marks before looking up at you.
“Can I remove-“
“Yes,” you cut him off, getting desperate for him to get it over with.
“Needy,” he chuckled.
“And you’re a tease. I need your mouth on my clit.” You couldn’t take it anymore.
“Whatever the princess wants, the princess gets.” He unbuttoned your pants and pulled them off of you in one quick more before letting them fall to the floor in a messy pile behind him. He then reached for your underwear and slid them off before tossing them behind him. He lowered himself onto his knees then spread your legs and let out a whistle as he got a look at your pussy.
“Already wet for me, hm?” His fingers lightly grazed your cunt and you gave him that look that he knew all too well. You hated when he messed with you like this, but he did it just to see that angry look in your eyes. It never failed to make him hard.
“I think we both know the answer to that.” Eddie liked you best when you were like that, all angry and bothered.
“Wow, doll,” his fingers stayed where they are, moving back and forth so you got a little sensation but not the full thing. Eddie liked it when you begged. “That just might be a record.”
“Stop fucking around.” You usually liked the little games he liked to play, but not tonight.
“Someone’s eager,” he teased with a smirk and you were honestly on the verge of pleasuring yourself since he was taking too long. This was always how it went so you didn’t know why you ever expected anything different.
“Of course I’m eager, I’m-” your words were cut off when Eddie thrusted his fingers into your pussy. “Oh.”
“That’s right, doll.” His fingers pumped in and out, causing you to let out a moan.
“Eddie,” you whined and he just smirked.
“Say my name, honey.” He continued, thrusting them harder and faster as you let out another moan, grasping as the bedding underneath you, needing something to grab onto.
“Need your mouth, Eds,” you mewled and he removed his fingers before draping your legs over his shoulders. He pressed a kiss to each thigh before diving into your pussy and you let out a gasp. He licked a stripe from your slit to your clit before shoving it into your pussy, swirling it around as your hands dug further into the bedding.
You let out a loud moan and Eddie only buried his face further into your cunt, grazing the thing with his teeth and that drove you wild. You almost screamed at the sensation and Eddie did it once more to hear the sound again. Your thighs tightened at the feeling, causing them the press against the side of his head and he spread them, removing himself from your cunt.
You let out a whine at his absence and he ripped off his pants, desperate to be inside you. He moved to his bedside table and reached for his box of condoms, only to find that it was empty.
“I’m okay with it if you are,” you told him, seeing what the issue was. And you were okay with it. You suddenly liked the idea of feeling his bare cock inside of you.
“You’re sure? What about-“
“If I get pregnant, I get pregnant,” you shrugged. The two of you had talked about having a baby and even discussed trying, but he didn’t think it would be so soon. He couldn’t have been more happy, though. He loved the idea of having a baby that was a product of the two of you making love to each other.
“You want to have a baby with me?” His face lit up. Sure, being a rockstar was cool, but he was convinced that being a father and husband were the roles he was convinced he was put on this earth for.
“I’d be honored to have a baby with you, Eds.” You didn’t know why he was asking since you had talked about it at length.
“Well, there’s no time like the present,” he smiled, ripping off his underwear. He lined himself up with your pussy and slowly slid his dick into you. You let out a small noise as the sensation. You never had unprotected sex before so it felt a little odd at first, but you had to admit that you liked the way it felt, that there was no barrier between his cock and your pussy.
Eddie slowly thrusted into you, wanting it to be nice and sweet for once. He wanted this to be a sweet moment between the two of you. Something you’d remember for the rest of your lives.
His hands gripped your hips as he pumped in and out, paying you compliment after compliment, showering you with the sweetest words as he thrusted inside you, assuring you of his love for you.
You let out moan after moan as he pumped into you and you grabbed onto him, pressing your face into his neck. His thrusted a little harder and your fingers dug into his back, but not enough to actually hurt him.
“Taking me so well, honey,” he said, pumping a little faster and harder. He was just testing the waters to see what you liked without the condom.
“Eddie,” was all you were able to say, your words getting slurred as your head leaned back.
“I know, princess,” he brushed some sweaty hair out of your face. “Got one more for me, hon?”
“One more,” you repeated. He gave a couple more thrusts, these ones harder and faster than before and you let out the most pretty moans he had ever heard come from your mouth. He hadn’t thought you’d liked it rough, but he supposed his was wrong.
He pulled out and lowered you to the mattress before cleaning you up and getting you some fresh pajamas from the drawer you had them tucked away in. He helped you change into them then got into his own before getting you both under the covers.
You turned over to face him and you wrapped your arms around each other, tangling your legs together as you did so. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he looked at you, the love of his life. God, he was so fucking lucky.
“I love you,” he smiled, bringing one of his hands up to your face and you smiled as well.
“I love you too.” He pressed a soft kiss to your lips in response.
“You’re going to be a great mom.” His thumb rubbed back and forth along your cheek and you closed your eyes, loving the way it felt. You could tell he meant the words, not only because he never said anything he didn’t mean, but also because of the way he looked when he said it, his eyes all soft and sweet.
“And you’re going to be a great dad.” He felt himself tearing up at your words and yours teared up too. He pulled you in for another kiss and the two of you drifted off to sleep, thinking of nothing but cribs and high chairs and the extra bedroom you had that would have made a perfect nursery. Maybe if things went right, you’d actually be parents.
#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x plus size reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x shy!reader
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[BAD DECISION #10] Blonde
warnings: b is in her bleach era. love that for her!! jaykay is in the chapter for like 1.5 seconds and still manages to be the best thing about it. also if u think wow holly sometimes your chapters end very similarly, uhhh yes. ur right. mainly because my brain is smooth but also because jungkook is a creature of habit! it’s within his character traits! not because im stupid! even if i am!
soundtrack: space - audrey nuna; blonde - maisie peters
wc: 3.5k
bd total wc: 540k (on-going)
minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist
You suppose you really shouldn't be surprised when Seokjin leaves you on read. It happens as soon as he escapes the city, just like it always does.
It's always the same; he'll come back to town for a few days - to visit friends, his family, or maybe for a haircut with the only barber he trusts - then leaves just as quickly as he comes.
The predictability of it all would be funny, you think, but your knees are getting worn out from how many times you fall for it; his charm, his deception, his pretty lips that soothe the burn of his selfish choices.
He'll be radio silent for a while, and then suddenly, as if he's finally changed the batteries in his walkie-talkie, he won't be. It'll most likely be when he's on his way back to town in a few months time.
The saddest part is that you know you'll want to see him when he does. Will have the burning desire to show him just how well you've been; how well you've coped without him.
Most of all? You'll want him to know just how much you don't need him.
Inevitably, he'll end up in your bed, and you'll end up all in your head - again - overthinking and underestimating just how easy it is for him to drop you. Forgetting just how badly he fucked you up, only for him to remind you in the most callous of ways.
When Danbi comes home on Thursday night - three days since Seokjin's last message - she knows exactly what's happened. You've got a special kind of pout reserved for Seokjin-related upsets. It's always a little soft yet incredibly hard to break.
"You gotta stop letting him in," she says over a glass of red. She hates the taste, but loves the soft buzz in the pit of her stomach. Though she's much better suited to Moscato, Danbi will never turn her nose up at free wine.
If she knew why you were drinking it, she might consider rejecting it.
Seokjin's favourite. You'd bought it on the way home from work. Just couldn't help yourself.
Had figured that at least when you hugged yourself to sleep that evening, your lips would taste like his used to do, on the nights when he'd tell you that you're the most delightful thing he's ever laid his eyes upon. Would be all giggly. Wine drunk. Happy. In love.
But it's been a while since he did that. Feels like a lifetime ago, now.
You shrug as you let the ruby red liquid swirl in your glass. Fighting against your feelings feels like swimming against the tide.
Always struggling to breathe. Never winning. Failing. Falling.
"I don't know how to, Dan."
"But you do," she insists.
And she's right. Of course you do.
His number has never been blocked, but a simple restriction of access to you would solve so many of your problems.
Thing is, you kind of like him still being your problem. At least that way, on a technicality, he's still yours. Kind of.
Every time he comes back to the city, it's still your bed that he ends up in.
Never for the night. Just for an hour or two - but for long enough for you to convince yourself that he can't stay away.
The lies you let your mind whisper are insidious. You're irresistible. He's still just as affected by you as you are by him. He can't possibly leave you.
And yet he does, each and every time.
He doesn't ever let you go. Not fully. Whenever you think you're getting over it, he shows up just to get you under him; his thumb, his spell, his body.
You're halfway through the bottle of wine when Danbi tells you once more that you need to get Seokjin out of your hair.
You've reached the end of it by the time you're grabbing your purse and heading for the closest Olive Young.
It's just down the street, by the crossroads that lead into town, and the staff there have seen you in worse states. A little tipsy has nothing on the mascara-stained eyes they used to be greeted with during the worst days of the breakup.
"Sure about this?" Danbi asks just to check before you take the boxes in your hands to the counter.
"Absolutely not - but he always hated me blonde," you grin a little sardonically. The happiness that comes with this change will be temporary, but you have to remind yourself that so was he. "At least even if I can't resist him, he'll resist me."
Peroxide and perhaps a little fried, your blonde hair had caught his attention in the early days - but you had dyed your hair dark in a bid to keep it.
He'd said some bullshit in a conversation amongst friends about his preferences, and how he favoured the 'natural look'. You weren't together at the time, not officially - but everyone there was a friend of his. They all knew you'd be going home with him. It only took two boxes of dye to get him asking to be exclusive. A week later he was introducing you to his friends as his girlfriend.
Funny what a little bit of conformity can do for a man who loves playing by the rules.
You assume his desire to tick the boxes and do what is expected of him is also why he was such a bellend when it came to the glitter you liked to dust yourself in.
Nobody's perfect though, so he was willing to overlook it. Was just one of the flaws he perceived in you. When you love someone, you accept them.
He ultimately never grew to love it, but for a while, you thought he might.
Bleach boxes in one hand, another bottle of wine in the other, you waste no time and head straight for the bathroom. Danbi follows you right in. She's always there to lend a hand or at least provide a Spotify playlist to get you through your woes.
Folding the powder into the developing lotion by the sink, you know your bleach-induced bathroom antics could get you a spot in a Brad Mondo video.
All a little haphazard, you're without a mixing bowl and brush, so are having to use an old takeout container and a plastic spoon, instead.
It's not quite how the instructions suggest you should mix it all up, but no good ever comes from following the rules.
You'd tried for Seokjin, and look where that got you.
Unlike him, trusty Tupperware has never done you dirty before. No reason why it should now.
Danbi sits on the closed toilet seat, legs crossed, a small bottle of bubbles in her hand. The bubbles had been a Christmas party favour from the office job she'd quit four months ago. Rediscovered when she'd been cleaning her room earlier that day, Danbi had taken to blowing pretty little bubble flurries your way all afternoon.
Your reflection is captured in the peacock sheen of the bubbles while you study your rapidly developing hair in the mirror.
You haven't bothered to change out of your shirt. It's not yours. One of Seokjin's. It's navy, and you hope the bleach ruins it.
"I think I've fucked up," you say all rather calmy, talking about your hair and not the shirt. It's not the end of the world if you have. Just hair, you always think.
Danbi shrugs. Has clearly spent too much time in your company, because she echoes exactly what you're thinking: "Just hair, babe. It'll grow."
That's the joy of your friendship; you both encourage each other with the same dumb remarks whenever you feel like you've reached the point of no return.
After all, if you can't go back?
Go forward.
"Plus," she adds, blowing more bubbles instead of taking a breath. "You can just chalk it up to being your hot mess era."
"Been in that for months already," you smile at her in the reflection of the mirror. You prod a little at your roots, and know that you definitely should have waited a little longer to work the bleach up to them. Bollocks.
You've done this enough times to know you'll end up with a gold band haloing around the top of your hair thanks to how easily your roots always lift. Nightmare.
"Exactly, so you may as well look the part," Danbi encourages. Worst influence going, she is. Also the best at times, too. You find comfort in the fact she won't always say what you want to hear, but what you need to hear instead.
The conversation dissolves into empty chatter, gossip about Danbi's dog walking clients, mentions of Taehyung and how he's still trying to talk her into a mates-rates discount despite the fact they aren't actually 'mates'. She asked you about your Bartender That Smiles, and you say he's all good - before you have to insist there's nothing going on there.
"He's got issues with his ex," you explain.
She rolls her eyes. "Don't they all? Boys and their first loves, I swear to God."
"Not sure she was his first," you defend, though you're not sure why. The thought lingers as you rummage around for an old tube of toner that you know you have hiding in the bathroom cabinet somewhere. It's been a while since your hair was pale enough to take toner, so it's been pushed right to the back.
Danbi is shooed from her perch on the toilet seat and into the living room as you let the shower run to heat it a little.
The first crash of water against your skin is lukewarm. Tepid. Unappealing, but necessary.
You hate anything other than boiling-you-alive degrees Celsius, but know you need to be kind to your hair after the torture you've put it through. The water runs cloudy until the bleach is rinsed out, and then it runs purple thanks to your silver shampoo. It pools around your feet and seeps into the drain. Wishful thinking has you hoping memories of Seokjin will do just the same.
It's just to preemptively tone it, but you can't help but worry about the pigment taking too strongly on your roots.
The ash toner you found in the cupboard is in a box by the sink. You plan on putting that over the top of whatever mess your hair is anyway, but it doesn't hurt to get a head start on the process.
The water glistens a deep violet, briefly coating your skin - and for some reason, all you can think about is Jeongguk, and how you'd really like to be downing a Purple Starfucker (or five) with him right now. He really is the perfect distraction.
Still, you have a task at hand. You rinse your hair; ring it out. Sigh as you frown at the mess that greets you in the mirror - lilac roots, a yellow band haloing just like your thought it would, and silver ends. Brilliant.
It's as you're sitting with Danbi in the living room a little while later - body wrapped in a towel that isn't half as fluffy as Jeongguk's favourite, ashy toner smothering your peroxide blonde hair - that you notice your phone flash on the coffee table.
Danbi clocks it first, and stifles a laugh as she reads the screen. "Isn't that the guy from the club?"
You assume she means Jeongguk, and are a little perplexed to see it's Jimin's name on your screen instead.
"Yeah... Jimin. Smooth talker, shit shagger."
"A glowing review."
"Hey, I still let him think he was good," you say as you reach for your phone to read his message out loud to Danbi. "You guys out tomorrow night?"
Sipping on her wine, Danbi raises a brow. Shakes her head in confusion. "He hoping for round two?"
"Fuck knows."
It's just gone midnight, so you consider maybe he's thinking about his desire for a hook-up, and is hoping for a safe bet in the form of you.
And so you don't reply. If he double texts, you'll just lie and say you've fallen asleep.
The scent of your toner is beginning to give you a headache, so you go to rinse it and bid farewell to your final day as a brunette.
Sleep evades you. Doesn't want to let go of who you were, apparently. Wine makes you sleepy, and yet you're wired as if you've just had a triple shot americano.
But then it's three in the morning, and all you can seem to smell is the deep conditioner you bathed your hair in that evening.
Somehow, when you look to the empty space beside you - delicately ruffled, a dent prevailing in the pillow - you convince yourself that you can smell fig leaves and coconut. The notes of his favourite aftershave linger like the ache in your chest. It's hollow, and you can't work out why it hurts quite as much as it does.
If there's nothing there, how can it be so painful?
You sniff back tears that fail to truly form and pull your phone from beneath your pillow. It's hard to move your fingers when they're tangled up in puppet strings that Seokjin is refusing to let go of, but eventually you manage to tap through some Instagram stories in a bid to distract yourself from him.
Inspirational quotes don't do much for you, nor do the engagement pictures of people you haven't given a second thought since graduation. There's an abundance of them. Smiling faces. Diamonds, or maybe just cubic zirconia. Fresh sets of nails, hands that are pink and warm from the heat of whoever's been holding them.
It's a curious thought; what people who haven't spoken to you in years must think of you now.
You were the one who was going to succeed. Going far in life, made for a boardroom, would look incredible in a pantsuit - and yet you're working in a cafe, first-class degree of no more worth than the tissue paper you flush down the toilet.
See, you switched out life goals for glitter. You wear it like armour; protect yourself from the world around you. Who cares about seriousness and success when you're a constant disco? Not you. Could never be you.
Or at least, you hope that's what people think. Hope that no one realises you're covering yourself in artificial shine; like a canvas in acrylic because you were too impatient to watch the oil paint dry.
One day you'll glow. Glow for real.
For a while, you thought you had been with Seokjin.
All you see when you look in the mirror these days is tarnished silver; copper alloy pretending to be much more than what it really is. Your skin will turn green eventually.
There is, however, one person you've managed to fool.
When his story pops up - a repost of tomorrow night's paint party event at Dionysus - you find yourself clicking through to your DM thread without much thought. You know he's at work. Know it's a 50/50 whether or not he'll get back to you before your mind begins to berate you again for how miserable you feel.
It's a simple message - hey - and you're pleased that it's met with an equally simple reply not even a minute later.
JustJK: To what do I owe the pleasure?
You decided that 'I'm about to cry over my shitbag ex so chose to message you instead' probably won't be Jeongguk's favourite thing to hear, so you opt for a little white lie.
You: Just wondering how the kids are <3
Part of you worries he won't understand what the fuck you're on about - but of course, he does. He's Jeongguk. Gets you better than you get yourself, these days.
JustJK: Missing their mother.
JustJK: Perry the Pigeon almost fell earlier.
JustJK: Roger the Robin looks like he has a broken wing.
JustJK: Must be one of yours. Inherited his mother's wonkiness <3
With each message that comes through, your smile grows wider in the midnight darkness of your bedroom.
You: Careful or I'll file for joint custody.
You: Get poor Roger away from his father's cruel remarks </3
There's an ease to how you joke together, both aware of how unserious you are. There's no second-guessing, no worrying about saying the wrong thing. If you do, you'll say sorry and move on. No harm, no foul.
JustJK: Your appeal won't hold up in court, Byeol.
JustJK: You've neglected them ever since you spawned them.
JustJK: Haven't even paid them a visit!!!
Laughter stifles in your throat as your body curls up into a more comfortable position. The audacity of this boy, you think, ignoring the way he manages to get you entirely focused on something that isn't your own despair.
You: You've got full custody!!!
JustJK: And you're still allowed to come for supervised visits!!!!!
JustJK: smh and to think you call yourself their mother.
JustJK: I'm their mother now.
You pout at your screen, and whine a small little 'nooo'.
You: They need me :(
JustJK: Come and see them, then. They miss their mother.
You: Tomorrow?
He reads the messages instantly, but takes a little longer than usual to reply. It worries you slightly. Makes you more aware of your surroundings. The scent of Seokjin's aftershave begins to permeate the air once more.
Until, all rather suddenly, it doesn't anymore.
JustJK: I'm not working tomorrow night, but Jimin's insisting on going to the paint party - you coming?
You: Will Perry the Pigeon be there?
JustJK: If he falls before I leave for the club, then yes.
It's not a bad proposition. One that quite intrigues you. One that has you agreeing, and him telling you to fuck off and go to sleep. He's got work to do, he says.
It's actually quite quiet at the club - Yeonjun just caught him looking at his phone with a dumb smile a few too many times for Jeongguk's liking. Doesn't wanna get caught out again.
Especially doesn't want him catching onto the fact that there's a reason Jeongguk's eyes light up like Disco Balls when he looks at his phone.
Yeonjun doesn't really have friends who are girls, Jeongguk reasons with himself. Won't understand that he's perfectly capable of having a little flirt without it meaning anything more than that - after all, isn't that just what banter is? Friendly flirting? He does it with the boys all the time. Doesn't mean fuck all. Just fun.
Jeongguk's a couple of years older than his cerulean-haired coworker, and has learnt the hard way that you really shouldn't escalate friends above the level of purely platonic. One day Yeonjun will realise this.
For now, though, Yeonjun'll shag anyone who looks at him in the right direction. Has probably already ruined a few good friendships. Doesn't even realise he's done it.
Jeongguk trusts himself not to make the same mistakes he's made in the past with you. Thinks that he's pretty happy with how things are. Has missed the dynamics of friendships with girls. Is looking forward to Monday movie night with you and Danbi again.
And yet when he gets home to find Perry the paper pigeon on his bed, he can't help but smile.
You wake up to a picture of the fallen bird in your DMs - and even though you'll whine and complain about it when you see him that evening, all you can do is smile, too.
JustJK: Looks like we're having a wholesome family trip to Dionysus tonight.
You: Mummy and Daddy reunited at last <33 Perry will be so happy.
JustJK: It's okay, you don't have to lie.
JustJK: I know you're talking about yourself, not Perry.
Jeongguk doesn't send the message where he tells you not to call him Daddy. Knows you'll read into it; tease him about it. It's not like he's got a thing for it, or anything, he just... maybe wouldn't be opposed to it, and so he'd rather not be called it when he's having casual conversations with you. Wouldn't wanna get flustered.
Part of you already knows this. Is precisely why you'd said it. It's not really your style, not the kind of thing that gets you going.
But it is also exactly why you choose to end your next message with, 'See you tonight, Daddy x'.
You're laughing as you send it.
And as he receives it, Jeongguk groans. Buries his head into his pillow. Crumples Perry a little in the process. Whines.
"Don't fuck this up, Jeongguk."
AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT
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Wei Wuxian eats a watermelon. Yep!
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#wei wuxian#nothing out of the ordinary here. Just good fandom fun#Watermelon discourse has been going on and I want to let people know where I stand.#This came about because I wanted to experiment with translating the (traditional) PD-MDZS style to a digital format#and while sitting there thinking of what to draw...my inspiration came to me.#This is the equivalent of sneaking vegetables into the spaghetti sauce but its important to get your gotdamn veggies#I'm not very good at organizing my thoughts (evidence: the tags of every post on this blog).#but please do not look away from this moment in history. One person cannot solve it and no one expects you to.#Even if it is just spending time doing some research on the situation and history. Or boosting posts that are more articulate#Any action helps! ANY action! Everyone has a different level of capacity for this and that's okay. Anything is fine. Dont let it be nothing#Anyhow. did I like doing this digitally? Yes but its mixed. It was faster but also spark the same joy I usually get while drawing#I will have to get over it very quickly though. You will all see why in a few days
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happy wife, happy life — gojo satoru
synopsis. not fawning over his wife may prove to be harder than gojo thought.
contents. fluff, gojo is so whipped for his wife and everyone is tired (whats new), ooc gojo?
notes. this was pure self indulgence. i wanted to slander and coddle gojo all at once and this was it teehee :3
the first thing you hear when you stand up to leave the staff meeting is a wolf whistle.
“looking good,” satoru looks you up and down. you roll your eyes playfully, your husband’s behavior is not foreign to you. he taps your upper thigh, dangerously close to your butt as you take your leave. however, the others in the room don't take kindly to the action.
“highly inappropriate behavior gojo,” utahime mutters under her breath from across the table. beside her, nanami is giving your husband a hard stare.
satoru pays no mind to them though, smiling up at you as you walk out of the room. you shake your head when he continuously blows a series of kisses. he ignores your rejection, opting to mouth crude comments instead.
the moment the door shuts, the strongest sorcerer immediately deflates, disinterested in whatever matters the rest had to discuss about.
“i don’t know how she puts up with you,” utahime takes a long sip out of her cup of tea. beside her, shoko snorts.
“probably for his body.” shoko is not unfamiliar with satoru’s antics, having witnessed it since his rowdy school days. she applauds him for coming far with you, but it was still fun to tease him.
gojo crosses his arms, emitting a disgruntled sound. “and my golden personality?”
nanami sighs, “ieiri’s conclusion is most likely right.”
the limitless user wiggles his finger playfully. “nanamin, how scandalous of you to fantasize about my body! i’m a married man y’know~”
nanami looks like he has eaten something sour. unlike you, nanami’s attitude towards gojo has not softened as the years passed.
“i’m surprised she’s still with you.” utahime snickers. “she’s a sensible woman and you’re–”
satoru frowns at her statement. he’d never thought about how you felt about his behavior. perhaps that was his fatal flaw. gojo satoru had a nasty streak of negligence. and the last time he failed to notice someone dear to him —
“well i’m glad she ended up choosing me, yeah?” his frown is quickly covered up by the wide smirk on his face. he leans back on his chair that’s starting to feel less comfortable by the second. the chair creaks under the weight of his body. honestly, how old are these old wooden things? “as much as i’d like to keep chatting about my lovely wife, i’d like to get this meeting over with so i can see her again.”
the rest of the meeting ensues as usual.
“sensei has been weird… right?” itadori offers his hand after knocking megumi down during a sparring match. the black haired boy grunts as he is pulled up.
“if by weird, you mean normal.” megumi glances back at you and gojo who are watching intently at the first and second years practicing close combat on the training field. it was a bit peculiar to see satoru not throw himself all over you. gojo without pda is like a jigsaw puzzle missing its most essential piece, leaving the overall picture incomplete and lacking the electrifying energy that defines his existence.
“i feel like i should be happy, but it’s unsettling to see him not initiating some misconduct. do you think they’re fighting?” nobara is panting on the grassy floor. she raises her hand in surrender when maki leaps in to take her head off with a spear.
maki retracts her blade, turning back to observe you and gojo, “nah, gojo would fold at her command.”
“salmon.”
from across the training field, you turn to your husband nervously, “why are they staring at us?”
satoru hums, his blindfolded gaze focuses on the field in front of you, “hm, maybe they’re admiring their very beautiful [name] sensei.” the blindfolded man pauses. compliments should still be okay– right? satoru can’t imagine a life without lavishing you with love, yet he will content himself with gently sprinkling you with affection.
you smack his shoulder playfully. to your surprise, your husband doesn’t reciprocate with some form of physical affection. you tilt your head, perplexed.
quickly dismissing it, you yell at your students to continue their training.
you don’t notice the way satoru clenches his fists, keeping his eyes trained anywhere but you.
the next time satoru is tempted by your presence is when he comes back home after a mission. it was a walk in the park, but the heavy stack of paperwork that followed it had depleted his energy. all he wanted was to snuggle in bed with his wife, selfishly keeping you all to himself.
and you’re not making it easier to resist with the way you warmly greet him with a smile in nothing but a small cotton tee and those tiny pajama shorts. eyes up, eyes up, eyes up, satoru mentally chants.
he thinks he might actually die.
“toru!” you abandon the book you had been reading to pay your husband taxes (kisses that satoru demands he must have). “you’re home awfully late.”
“mission… paperwork,” his clipped response is mumbled as he hurries past you and to your shared bathroom, avoiding your touch. satoru silently prays to the heavens that you don’t notice his suspicious efforts as he makes his way to take a much needed ice cold shower.
you stand in your spot in confusion, letting your husband go. slowly, you start to connect the pieces of satoru’s strange behavior from his refusal to touch you to his sudden responsible disposition. gojo satoru never does paperwork– not unless you bribe him with a dozen kisses. speaking of kisses, you don’t even remember the last time he had demanded one. something was definitely wrong.
without missing a beat, you quickly follow your lover’s trail into the bathroom.
to your delight, your husband had failed to lock the door. in the hush of your silence, you can hear the subtle rustle of satoru's garments.
his sky blue eyes go wide when he sees you walk through the door.
“toru… is there something wrong?” your voice is careful.
the white haired man in front of you nervously laughs as he covers his bare chest, “geez, ask me out to dinner first.”
“gojo satoru.”
your husband winces at his full name being used, but he puts on another mask. a faux smile plays on his lips as he shrugs. “i don’t know what you mean, gojo.”
your heart drops at his insistence to shut you out, but you stand your ground. with sheer determination, you walk up to your husband, closing the gap between the two of you. you cup his cheek with a hand while you start to lean closer, your lips nearly brushing.
satoru shuts his eyes, inhaling a deep breath to regain composure. he even sucks in his lips, making him look utterly ridiculous. despite the dangerous allure of your proximity, he resolves to stand firm.
"you won’t even kiss me anymore! satoru, this is absurd. what's happening?" you distance yourself, seeking answers.
despite his towering stature, a snort escapes you as satoru resembles a mere child when mumbling something under his breath.
"come on, use your big boy words."
"i don't want to drive you away," he avoids making eye contact now that his blindfold is off. "i know i can be a bit overwhelming at times."
upon hearing his excuse, you snort loudly, “seriously?”
“seriously.”
“i can’t believe i married such an idiot.” you huff, wrapping your arms around his neck.
satoru pouts, “you’re breaking my heart wifey.”
your lips softly kiss the corner of his mouth. like it was muscle memory, satoru’s lips chase yours even after you pull away. you smile.
“for such a genius, you really are stupid ‘toru.” you flick his forehead. he whines and you know it didn’t hurt, yet you entertain him by leaning up to kiss his injury. “believe it or not, i married you for reasons beyond your pretty face and body.”
“you think i’m pretty?” his eyes shine bright as they lovingly gaze into yours. you take one hand to cup his cheek. he nuzzles his face into it.
“of course you’d say that.” you laugh softly. “but honestly, i’m offended that you thought i would ever be annoyed by your affections. might i remind you that we have been madly in love since our youth? i found myself captivated by your ability to love effortlessly, and the way you hopelessly pined for me for years? i knew i was a goner. that… and your bank accoun–”
satoru kisses you with an intensity that leaves you feeling blissfully lightheaded. lost in the haze of the moment, he showers the rest of your face with tender, wet kisses, and you stand there, surrendering to the sweet assault.
upon withdrawing, satoru wears a broad grin. "i was an idiot today, wasn't i?" you nod, breathless. "how about i make it up to you tonight?" he proposes, drawing you close. you are all too familiar with that feral grin adorning his face.
#kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo fluff#gojou x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojou satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojou satoru x y/n#jjk fluff#jjk x reader
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𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader
Summary: Everyone at HQ was convinced there was something going on between you and Miguel. Just...no one knew what. But one group of spiders were determined to figure it out.
Warnings: None! Just a lot of goofiness and a whole lot of fluff :3
When you have a superhuman with superior senses, they’re bound to be perceptive to their surroundings. Now when you have an entire lobby the size of multiple football fields filled with superhumans with superior senses, very few things will go unnoticed.
It’s why people very quickly realize that you and Miguel have…something between the two of you. It’s just that no one is quite sure what.
Camaraderie? Maybe, you were one of the first spiders to join the society.
Friendship? Perhaps, but it was known that Miguel wasn’t one to do friends. Not with the amount of loss he has gone through.
A relationship? This one seemed the most unplausible. Miguel was, well, Miguel. Stoick, cold and calculating. Meanwhile, you were you.
You had a light that drew people in, kindness that knew no bounds and warmth like a fire on a cold winter’s day.
Everyone knew the saying ‘opposites attract’, but it was like comparing night and day with the two of you. Regardless, a small little group within the society were set on trying to figure the two of you out.
~
“Ain’t no way the two are together, she’s too good for him!” Hobie argues, his legs kicked up on the table in front of him.
“I don’t know, maybe that’s why they work together. Because she makes him better?” Miles says, but his tone of voice failed to hide his skepticism.
“I think you should just leave the two of them be. Besides, what happens if you figure it out or not anyway?” Peter says, feeding Mayday as he does. Immediately a chorus of arguments breaks out from the group.
“OKAY! Okay, forget I asked,” he says with a shake of his head, while Mayday just laughs at the commotion.
They spot the two of you walking into the cafeteria making conversation none of them could make out.
“Look at them,” Gwen says, “have you ever seen the guy happier than he is with her?” she asks, and Hobie snorts.
“C’mon mate, you call that happy? Mans got that frown tattooed on his face, can he even be happy?” he says, but they all continue watching intently.
You glance over to the table they were surrounding, and they all brush off your gaze pretending as though they weren’t just studying the two of you like specimens under a microscope.
You wave your hand, a bright smile on your face while Miguel only glances over for a moment before continuing to walk. You jog to catch up to him, grabbing a tray and picking up things you wanted for lunch.
They watch as they see Miguel pick up the empanada, the last one left. He pauses for a split second, holding it before turning to place it on your tray. Almost as though they were straight out of a cartoon, they freeze at the interaction.
You seem to be slightly surprised as you, saying something to him but he only brushes you off before continuing on.
“Did…that just happen?” Pavitr asks. Everyone at HQ was aware of Miguel’s fondness for the food (even if he did hurl one right at Miles when they first met), there was no way he would give one away so easily for just anyone, right?
“Somebody pinch me,” Gwen says, and Hobie jumps at the request.
“OW!”
~
Miguel never lets anyone help him out when he’s injured. That was just a known fact. He could walk into HQ battered and bruised and wouldn’t even look in the infirmary’s direction once. After depending on himself for so long, he wasn’t going to stop now. Besides, what were First Aid kits for after all?
The only way he was going to the infirmary was if someone dragged his unconscious body there themselves.
Well, unless you were there.
“Miguel O’Hara I swear to god, you better get your ass to the infirmary or so help me I will tie you up and drag you through the halls myself,” you say sternly as you both reemerge in the Lobby. The rest of the Spiders there continued with what they were doing, but their attention was zeroed in on you both.
“I’m fine,” he says, glaring at you as if trying to say ‘Just try’. Had you been anyone else, you would have backed down by now but you didn’t.
“You wanna test me right now? That was a nasty hit, I will not be letting it get infected under my watch,” you retort, and he puffs.
“This is nothing, I’ve dealt with worse,” he scoffs, and in an instant your finger shoots out, making contact with the side that got hit with the anomaly’s flames. Miguel can’t help the sharp intake of breath as the pain from the impact hits him.
Your eyebrow raises, an expression of disbelief on your face before it softens. Murmuring softly, you say something that only he can hear.
For a moment he studies your face before sighing, finally relenting. With a triumphant smile, you place a hand on the man’s broad back, leading him towards the infirmary with a gentle but firm hand.
There, Pavitr is laying in bed recovering from an awry mission of his own. The doctors had ordered bedrest for the next 2 hours at least. Superior healing or not, they were not going to risk it. So there he lay, slinging his golden bangles up and down bored before he hears the two of you come in.
“Mr. O’Hara-" a doctor’s voice can be heard, but he is quickly interrupted.
“She’s got it from here,” he says, Miguel’s tone final. A small “yes, sir” can be heard before footsteps fade away, the doctor’s office door closing once more.
“You know, you should really let the professionals help you,” your voice can be heard.
“You dragged me here, you can deal with the consequences,” he says, and you just laugh fondly before your voices quieten, murmuring too quietly for Pavitr to hear.
Curiosity builds as he recalls the conversation he and his friends had, and before he can stop himself he shifts silently to the side, just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of you both from the small gap between the hospital curtain and the wall.
There, Miguel sat on the bed, a disgruntled expression on his face but his eyes were soft as he watched you fuss over his side.
He only watches for a few seconds before pulling away, this being a clear invasion of privacy, and his boss’ privacy no less.
It wasn’t going to stop him from telling everyone else though.
~
“This is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea,” Miles says, grasping onto the ceiling like his life depended on it.
“It’s only a bad idea if we get caught, so Shut. Up,” Gwen says sharply, hanging from her place on the ceiling as they watched the fight from above.
Gwen had come up with the mighty fine idea of sneaking into a mission between the two of you. It wasn’t often that it happened, Miguel more often than not only went on missions with only Lyla by his side. But when he needed a partner, it was always you.
“Why did you have to bring me with you,” he whispers, “Miguel already doesn’t like me. He doesn’t need more of a reason to.”
“Because I needed backup and you can turn invisible. And let’s be real, Hobie would be laughing his ass off getting us caught, Peter would bring Mayday which would get us caught, and Pavitr is already on a mission, now shhh,” she whispers, turning back to watching the scene below.
You swung from pillar to pillar in the abandoned factory with practiced ease, a carefree laugh escaping your lips as Miguel stands on the ground fiddling with his watch.
“The anomaly’s last known location was here,” Lyla’s voice echoes out, and you let out a sigh.
“Why can’t villains have easy powers. Maybe a giant blob that is easy to take down? Why do they have to be so complicated? What’s this one again, a freaky shadow monster?” you think out loud.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Miguel retorts, glancing up toward you for a moment before turning back to Lyla. “Do a scan of the place, will you?”
“What do we say~” Lyla responds, and you giggle softly while Miguel huffs.
“Please,” he mutters.
“What was that?”
“Please, Lyla,” he says a little louder now, irritation growing in his voice.
“Already done,” the AI snickers, and he groans out loud as your laughter bounces off of the walls, a fist held out for Lyla to bump.
“The two of you will be the death of me,” he says lowly.
“Oh, don’t be like that, grumps. You’d be too stubborn to die,” you retort before tensing up, the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the familiar feeling of your heightened senses at work. The moment you sling yourself up is the moment a loud thud sounds out from where you once stood.
“Oh, I forgot to mention that the anomaly was in the far right corner,” Lyla says before disappearing.
“I really need to do a rewrite of her code,” Miguel mutters to himself.
In your previous spot emerges a dark figure, plumes of smoke emerging and dissipating from its form and allowing it to disappear into the shadows with ease.
With a simple nod, you get to work. Like a well-oiled machine, you work in practiced synchrony, bounding across the walls and slinging webs.
And just like that the anomaly is captured, the force field around it effectively trapping it for the ride back to HQ so it can be sent back to its own universe.
“That was…kinda lame,” you snicker, pulling off your mask
“Told you so,” Miguel says as he opens up a portal for you both, dragging the anomaly behind him.
“Don’t say that to me,” you pout.
“What, can’t handle the truth?” he retorts, a smirk playing across his lips as your bickering voices fade through the portal.
“…was that a smile,” Gwen asks as she watches the spot where they both had stood.
“Was that what it was?” Miles asks, a shudder racking through his body.
~
It was late at night at the HQ, and at this time everyone else had already gone back to their own universes. The few that lingered were the ones finishing up after a late-night mission.
Or, you were Peter B. Parker frantically searching through the kitchen for a bottle of milk for Mayday after a playdate with a select few spiders that went on for way longer than expected.
Mayday was an easy baby. Always happy and smiling, but that all disappears when she was hungry and you did not want a spider baby on a rampage.
“Alright, alright, give Daddy a few seconds to warm up your milk please?” Peter pleads as Mayday continues to babble angrily, crawling all over him.
She pauses for a moment, attention drawn elsewhere as she hangs off of her father’s back before leaping.
“Hey, lil spider!” You say with a laugh, catching her in your arms. “What are you doing here so late?” you ask.
“Playdate with Miles, Gwen and Hobie. Time really flew and she refused to leave until now,” Peter sighs tiredly, and you pat him on the back before putting her up onto your shoulders. “What are you doing here so late?”
You shrug, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.
“Working late. Like you said, time really flew,” you say, but Peter knew that wasn’t the full truth.
“Working so hard that you need two cups of coffee?” he asks, holding out the bottle for Mayday to take, which is what she does happily as she snuggles up in her father’s arms.
“What can I say, caffeine doesn’t really work on me,” you grin, pouring the coffee from the machine. “Goodnight, Peter, Mayday,” you say, ruffling her red hair fondly.
And as quickly as you appeared, you disappear.
~
People didn’t often disturb the big boss man Miguel when he was working. Not if you wanted to stay on his good side.
It was even less often that someone barges into his room full of screens as he monitors the Archno-Humanoid Polymultiverse, let alone a group of them.
“We heard you talking to someone! And laughing,” Gwen says hesitantly as if she couldn’t even believe it herself. But she was invested in figuring out what the deal was between the two of you now.
“Well, do you see anyone around?” Miguel deadpans, his arms wide and gesturing around broadly. You could barely stifle the giggle as you sat on a beam high up on the ceiling, going unnoticed.
“W-well, no…But!” she says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow which makes Gwen shrink in her spot slightly before recovering. “But we heard you. There was someone here, wasn’t there?”
Hobie, ever the perceptive one tracks his eyes along the ceiling before spotting you swinging your legs with an amused look on your face. It seemed as though no one else had noticed though.
Miguel watches Hobie spot you and his eyes narrow in his direction, as if saying ‘I dare you to say anything’ to which the spider only raises his hands in mock surrender.
“No. There wasn't." He says, his tone final. "If that’s all you’re here for, I have important work to get to. So why don’t you go bother someone else, yeah?”
~
“I give up,” Gwen says, slumping in her chair. “We’re never going to figure it out.”
“Figure what out?” Jess asks, walking up to the group.
“Whether or not there is something going on between those two,” Miles says, nodding towards you and Miguel talking over in the corner of the room.
Jessica only hums, a knowing look in her eyes but she doesn’t say anything. Only asks a simple question.
“What makes you think so?”
“Everyone here knows that there’s something there, even if they want to admit it or not. She’s one of the few people he tolerates, they’re together almost all the time and he actually seems happy around her,” Gwen reasons.
“You could have just asked, you know,” you say, coming up on their conversation with an amused look on your face.
Their expressions range from flustered to simply amused and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up as you make eye contact with Jess.
“And to answer the question,” you reach down your suit, pulling out a simple chain with a ring dangling off of the end.
“We’re actually married.”
The group goes silent for a moment, eyes wide as they stare at the necklace in your hands, trying to process your words.
Then, all hell breaks loose.
A/N: Hehe, I'm quite happy with this one :3 This is my first attempt at writing Miguel, sorry if I butchered him but I am absolutely hyperfixating on him after seeing ATSV in theatres yesterday.
Based on the prompt by @imslightlycreative though slightly changed :)) I hope you all enjoyed <3
Part two out now!! Read it here.
#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara#across the spider verse spoilers#across the spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderman 2099#spiderman#miguel x reader#miguel ohara x reader#spiderverse x reader#miguel o hara#spiderman 2099 x reader#marvel
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“babe. baaaabe. babe!”
“what, satoru?” you ask sharply, looking up from your laptop to where your boyfriend has spread himself across your couch, his legs in shoko’s lap.
he lifts his shades to look at you. “was i your first crush?”
“yes,” you answer quickly.
you immediately return to the report you’re writing, missing the face shoko makes before she says, “that’s not true.”
“ieiri,” you whisper harshly, but it’s too late. your boyfriend’s already jumped off the couch to lean his palms against your desk.
“what? i wasn’t your first?!”
“you were,” you insist, glaring at your friend. “shoko is clearly misremembering things.”
“am i though?”
“you know what, it’s fine,” gojo sighs, slipping his shades back on and rolling the sleeve of his t-shirt up so he can flex. “obviously i’m way cooler than whatever lame schmuck high school you was crushing on.”
behind him, shoko’s scoff is the final nail in your coffin. “nanami is way cooler than you ever were.”
you slap your forehead, bracing yourself for gojo’s inevitable overreaction.
but he doesn’t get the chance, interrupted by a light knock against your doorframe from, you guessed it, nanami kento.
“yaga said you wanted to see me?”
cue overreaction.
“you had a crush on— on him?”
nanami swats gojo’s finger away from his cheek.
“oh my god,” your boyfriend breathes, currently experiencing a quarterlife crisis. “you liked this emo nemo?”
nanami ignores him, sending you a questioning look. “he doesn’t know?”
“what is it now?” satoru asks, slumping back into the couch. “did you guys go on a date or something?”
your lack of answer is enough for him to let his head fall back rather dramatically.
“can you blame her?” shoko asks. “he was sexy back then. in an edgy, mysterious kind of way. meanwhile, you were like…if a string bean made love to a cauliflower.”
even gojo doesn’t have a witty retort prepared for that.
you decide to clear this up once and for all. “it wasn’t just about looks. you were busy after— after riko. you didn’t have time for a relationship or…for me. you wanted to get stronger and i didn’t want to get in your way.”
“you wouldn’t have been—”
“i would have.” you shrug. because you know him, and you know what he was like. “and that’s okay because we were still kids, satoru. and it was only one date! no need to get so torn up about it!”
_____
“what is this?” you ask later that night, when you find satoru hauling a huge box into your apartment.
“it’s a bowflex!” gojo explains proudly, patting the unopened box. “shoko said that i was built like a string bean, so i’m gonna buff up like nanami! and when megumi moves out next year, i’m gonna turn his room into a gym.”
you lean in the doorway, amused. nanami also has a home gym. “is that why you’re also wearing a suit and tie instead of your usual uniform?”
he does a show spin, letting you take it all in. you don’t even want to know how much it must have cost. “do you like it?”
“you do look very handsome.”
“i know,” he winks, cocky as ever. “now watch this.”
he brushes a few strands of hair over his eyes, lowering his voice a few octaves as he says, “taxes. office work. satoru, i respect you so much!”
you walk up to him, brushing the hair back to press a kiss to his forehead. “nanami would never say that last thing, but i do like the effort.”
he loops his arms around your waist, returning the kiss and murmuring against your skin, “did it turn you on though? maybe i should get an office job—”
“satoru,” you whine, resting your forehead against his chest. “it was just a short-lived crush. and it was forever ago! i’m pretty sure you’ve had crushes that weren’t me.”
“nope,” he hums, resting his chin atop your head. “all i’ve ever wanted is you. all i’ve ever needed…is you.”
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TW: yandere, noncon, size/strength difference
gn reader
Thinking about breaking things off with your fuck friend 'cause you feel he's been catching feelings you have no intention of pitching...
“Why.” He asked, and the cross you’d made on your fingers in a wish to avoid the entire conversation untangled with a sigh.
“Please, don’t act dumb.” You groaned, exasperated and slightly irked. “You know why….”
“No. Tell me.” He argued, and you sighed again in regret of your own common decency – wishing you’d taken the entire break-off over text instead, or at the very least taken the time to think about what you would say or do if and when he got this way.
“You...”
You hesitated, taking a second to decide whether or not you really ought to voice it out loud – not because you had any doubts of it being true – but because the man in front of you was still very much a large brawny beefcake with temper issues no matter your sneaking suspicion that he saw you as something more than just a fuck friend.
“You’re getting too...” You continued, still scrambling for better words. Coming up short. “Clingy.”
He paused, his expression going from searching to a mix of offended and scrutinous.
“Clingy?” He repeated, forced disbelief a present factor in his tone. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one who clings to me- screaming my name- begging me to cum inside you and-”
You cut his rant off with yet another sigh accompanied by a shake of your head. “That’s not what I mean by clingy. I’m sorry, I should have said emotional, and your comment just proved that.”
You folded your arms across your chest, watching him reel.
“Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. We’re done.”
You left him on the sofa to go put your shoes back on – admonishing yourself for coming inside in the first place when you could have just as quickly done this on the doorstep and walked away.
“You're not going anywhere until we talk this through.” He followed, his stronger hand latching onto your upper arm in a grip that was unnecessarily harsh.
You didn’t really mind, though – it was his lack of charm that had charmed you to begin with – you only wished he’d remained that same savage he was and not gone all lovey-dovey soft on you.
“There's nothing to discuss.” You felt as though you were repeating yourself, getting more annoyed by the fact. “It was fun; now it isn't.” You underlined, looking back into his eyes, cringing when seeing the gloss of something that you really hoped wouldn’t amount to tears while you were still there.
“I'm gonna need more than that.” He said, the grip on your arm still kept firm with no inclination of letting up.
You didn’t really want things to get more awkward by asking him to let you go – feeling as though maintaining the position of strength was important so he not mistake your resolution.
He had a nasty habit of never taking you seriously.
“You’re being childish.” You stated.
“Childish?!”
His grip tightened with his outburst, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t have your heart jump to your throat.
"Let go of me." Your voice had significantly diminished.
"You think you can tease me like this and then tell me to piss off?” He seethed, your arm aching in the bruising grip he had on it as he pulled you close until your face was an inch from his. “Think again."
Your breath thinned under his glare, and you felt nearly too stiff to do anything except stare back up at him in wait.
“Calm down.” You tried, but it seemed choice words were too little too late to save you.
“I am calm.” He hissed back into your face before pulling you back to the sofa.
Throwing you down on your back – you didn’t even have the time to gasp before he was on top of you.
“Get off me-” You whined, your hands shooting forth – trying with all your might to heave him off, but ultimately amounting to nothing more than a slight annoyance to the much larger man on top.
“It's all about sex with you, right? You want to have fun, right?” He said in a craze, and you cringed while he leaned down to graze your chest with chin-stubble and lips, whispering at your peachfuzz until goosebumps rose. “So let's have some fun.”
“Stop it – I said I don't want to anymore – I’m being serious.” You tried, once again – appealing to his reason.
But it would seem he was beyond reason…
“Oh? You're being serious?” He mocked with a sneer and a laugh. “You don't look it. If you want me to stop so badly, then stop me. Come on~ try a little harder. Show me how serious you are.”
You’re not sure why you took him up on the challenge, as you’d long known of your differences in build – how you posed as much of a threat as a bug in a mason jar...
But even a bug will try to escape still after the lid has been sealed.
“Come on~ you're not even trying~” He grossly crooned, smiling at your pitiful attempt at twisting him off with the useless help of your silly hands – how your much smaller body writhed beneath his weight and tried wriggling free.
Laughing dryly, he took your hands by the wrists and pinned them to the cushion beneath you. Sagging over you, his breath fanned your lips.
“What was I to you, huh?” He asked in a murmur, his face blank but his eyes swirling. “Just a toy?”
You were afraid to breathe, only keeping your gaze terror-wide of what he might do – still grasping to fathom how he’d even felt possessed enough to do this much – confused as to how you’d missed the signs while having not a single clue what more he was capable of.
“Guess now you're my toy, huh...” He muttered coldly.
And you just couldn’t help the whimper that it tore from you – finally understanding exactly what position you were in.
The disorienting knowing of what was soon to happen dawned on you mercilessly – and you completely broke under the hefty weight it had.
“Oh? You’ gonna cry now?” He scoffed before hissing. “That's cute, seeing as I’m the one who’s had his heart stepped on.”
“S-stop it, get off me-” You cried, whole body shaking where you squirmed to no use nor end.
“Not so cold-hearted now, are yah, fuckin' bitch?” Was all he had to say while leaning into where thick streams of tears rapidly ran down your cheeks in stingy streaks. “You scared?” He whispered in licks at your ear. “Gonna start begging, hm?”
You only shook – eyes squeezed tightly to a close.
“Nah…” His tone scraped, similar to how the shaven stubble on his chin scratched lightly against your neck as he started placing small kisses there despite your whines. “'Cause you want this too. I know you do.” He insisted. “You're just scared I'll break your little heart at some point.”
You’re breath hitched as his hands parted with its twin – leaving it to keep your wrists pinned by itself as the other one traveled down between your bodies to undo your zipper.
You wanted to say something, but you were too scared to – listening to him and his lovesick speech – full of so many things you feared could trigger much sicker things.
“But I promise you that no one’s heart is gonna break here.” He vowed, still with his lips pressed wetly against your throat. “Not yours or mine.”
BNHA – Bakugou, Shinso, Kirishima
JJK – Sukuna, Gojo
HQ – Kageyama, Kuro, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins
BLLK – Reo, Isagi
AOT – Eren
#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere smut#yancore#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujustu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere jjk#jjk smut#bnha smut#yandere bnha#mha smut#my hero smut#yandere csm#yandere aot
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Careful - Chapter One
(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader
Chapter One: Over Yet
We can go farther, beyond the end.
Summary:
You and Spencer broke up more than four years ago. Since then, he has tried his best to forget about you. He has pushed all of his feelings down - locked them away into a little box that he never touches.
That is, until he sees your name on a list of potential victims being stalked and killed by a man who kills single mothers. (And he quickly realizes that your son could be his.)
Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst.
Word Count: 5,900
Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist
Please keep in mind - I am not doing a taglist for this series, so please do not ask to be tagged in future parts. I do not do taglists. If you want to be notified when future parts of this fic are posted, you can follow this blog and turn on notifications here - I don't make personal posts on this blog, it is just pure posts of my fanfiction. Or you can subcribe on AO3 to get email notifications when this series is posted. You can also view the posting schedule on the series materlist and check @tenpintsof-sundrop for any information about possible changes to that schedule.
Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.
Warnings: general warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of murder/killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of dead bodies, the underlying misogyny that comes with a man killing women, mentions of children being orphaned due to their mothers being killed (though there is no mentions of other living family members taking care of those children - you can imaging that they still have nice families to take care of them if you want, I didn’t fill in that detail), mentions of children being in proximity of a serial killer; exes to lovers - the reader and Spencer broke up and the reason why will be revealed later; mentions of pregnancy/mentions of the reader having a child; mentions of sex that resulted in a child/pregnancy (there is no detailed sex scenes/detailed smut in this chapter, but there will be in other chapters); mentions of JJ x Will; the reader’s looks are described as vaguely as possible; passing mention of incest (in the context of a historical figure); all statements that Spencer makes toward the end of this chapter were heavily researched and are factual; I think that’s about it?
A/N: The reader and Spencer originally dated around Season 1/Season 2 - I state at some point during the fic that they dated for 3 years before breaking up, so they started dating when he was very early Season 1 baby Spence (or even before Season 1) and they broke up around Season 2. So technically this fic takes place around Season 6 - but because I didn't want to distract from the plot, I didn't mention any of the stuff going on with Emily or any of those major canon plot points, and I am using pictures of later versions of Spencer just because that's who I was picturing in my head while writing this. But that's how the math works out. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the fic!! This chapter is more of an introduction before we really get into the meat of things, but I still hope that you guys like it.
...
The team had been in Portland for three days.
No leads, a confusing, inconsistent profile - huge pieces missing that would likely give them the real answers.
A patient killer with an extended timeline who likely wouldn’t kill again for months - leaving them chasing their tails, looking for answers.
“Okay, so, let’s take a step back.” Hotch sighed. “What do we know so far?”
He leaned against a nearby table, looking at everyone with the hope of reassessing the case from a different angle. The hope of talking it out to get some answers.
Another woman’s body had been found just before they arrived, and that would mean that the UnSub would be out hunting again soon. This was both good and bad.
Good, because the UnSub clearly had to spend a lot of time stalking his victims - he knew a lot of details of their lives, and he had spent a lot of time developing an intimate fantasy of being a part of their family in his mind. So he wouldn’t be killing again the next day. No woman was in immediate danger. It gave the team more time to find viable suspects.
Bad because they had no physical evidence, no good leads. And thus far, the profile was leading them nowhere. It felt incomplete.
They could find no real connections between the victims - their gyms, their banks, their childcare, their grocery stores. Somehow, the victims didn’t seem to have any crossover in their lives. There was no real way to say how the UnSub had met them. And someone like this - he would have interacted with them at least once in order to become obsessed and stalk them to this degree.
“Five women dead within the last three years.” Prentiss announced, starting to round up the facts that the team knew for certain. “All of them mothers, all with children under the age of five. All within the same ten square mile radius of Oregon, around Portland’s suburban neighborhoods.”
She slumped back into her chair with a tired huff, and then continued.
“The UnSub breaks into their homes through a backdoor or a back window, and somehow goes undetected in such an upscale neighborhood.” She sighed. “He kills the mothers, but he leaves their children alive. And then he calls 9-1-1 to report the death as a case of child neglect.”
“So he was likely neglected by his own mother in his childhood.” Morgan easily theorized.
“All of the victims upper-middle class, single mothers to one child with good jobs. All of them are of the same physical type.” Rossi added on. “They’re the same race, they have the hair color, they’re the same body type - all in their late twenties to early thirties. So the UnSub definitely has a type. He’s most definitely recreating a fantasy of some kind - perhaps taking out revenge on his own mother, but protecting himself. Which is why he never hurts the children.”
“Yeah, but the children are different.” Morgan replied. “Sometimes boys, sometimes girls. Some of them are biracial - he doesn’t look for a specific type in the father. He doesn’t necessarily need to see himself in the children.”
Then, as another thought occurred to him, Morgan continued on:
“Plus, the children’s ages vary from barely a year old all the way up to five - if he was looking to seek revenge on his mother, looking to protect a younger version of himself, then he would have locked in on a critical event that he needs to protect himself from. The age of the children would be more consistent, at least, because he would be looking to protect himself as he hits the age that he was most traumatized by a specific event.”
“That’s good.” Hotch nodded. “Then we know that it’s more about the mothers. He hates women at his core. Protecting the children is just a byproduct of his obsession over these women.”
“But we still have no clue how these women could be connected or how they met the UnSub.” Morgan replied, jaw stiff with frustration.
“Focus on what we do know.” Hotch reminded him.
“All of the women were killed via stabbing. They all had over a dozen stab wounds to their stomachs and genital areas.” Rossi replied. “So, he is an aggressive sexual sadist.”
“But if he hates women so much, why spend so much time in the house?” Morgan argued gently. “Every single one of these scenes has evidence that the UnSub spent hours - possibly up to a day in the house before he killed them. He cooked dinner, set the table, and made the women eat it before he killed them. Including a second place setting for a child. Some of the kids even said that ‘the scary man’ tucked them into bed and read them a story.”
He held up one of the crime scene photos that depicted the scene of the family’s place settings - a haunting scene of plates not cleaned up from dinner, with a flower vase sitting in the middle of the table with a few white flowers wilting inside of it.
“He’s right - why bother to show them the kindness of a last meal if he shows so much aggression toward them during the killing?” Prentiss added on.
“It’s a routine.” Hotch said, the thought suddenly occurring to him. “It’s likely that he chooses single mothers because he gets to play the role of the father. With the real father figure absent from the picture, it makes it easier for him to impose himself into that role. At least for a temporary amount of time.”
“It is strange.” Reid added on, clearly swimming in thought. “It’s almost like he’s courting them? Sending them gifts, showing what a good father he could be. Each of the women were sent white carnations sometime in the days before they were killed, and after the killing, he lays the flowers around their head in a halo-like fashion. It is said that carnations represent motherhood, and the white shade could depict an angelic innocence that he’s projecting onto these women.”
“So he views these women as angelic figures, yet he kills them so brutally?” Prentiss scoffed. “It just doesn’t add up.”
“Maybe he views the killing itself as a type of purification.” Reid theorized. “It’s not uncommon for killers to emotionally fetishize dead bodies and consider them more ‘pure’ than their living counterparts.”
Prentiss visibly cringed at this.
“Wait.” JJ said, looking at one of the crime scene photos with a sharp line pulling her brows together.
Everyone looked to her, waiting for her to finish this thought.
“I don’t think that the mothers were the only ones sent gifts.”
She held up the photo, showing a picture of a colorful child’s play mat in the living room. Everyone stared at the photo in confusion, and JJ sighed and began to explain.
“Look at this toy truck in the middle.” She said, pointing at something that almost blended into the background of the photo. The true focus was a large handprint - one that belonged to the killer, but he had worn gloves. “It’s wooden, it’s hand-carved, it’s old fashioned. All the other toys are plastic, brightly coloured. Remember what the UnSub said in the second 9-1-1 call?”
“‘She pretends to have her son’s best interests at heart, but she was going to let him get cancer from sucking on those cheap plastic toys.’” Reid said, repeating it word-for-word, using his impeccable memory.
“Exactly.” JJ confirmed with a nod. “Clearly the UnSub believes that he would be a good father because he can gift his child something hand-made instead of something mass produced.”
“Alright, get the crime scene techs back over there to pick up the truck, maybe he wasn’t wearing gloves when he made it and there is some slim chance he left a print on it.” Hotch said, and JJ left to call the crime scene unit.
This left the team sitting in silence for a few more moments until Reid spoke up again.
“What about preschools?” He said, suddenly coming out of a wave of thought to announce this to the room.
“What?” Prentiss prompted, wondering what on earth he was talking about.
“Preschools.” Spencer confirmed, looking across the table at her.
“We checked already, none of the victims’ children went to the same preschool.” Morgan reminded him. “Two of the kids didn’t even go to preschool.”
“Yeah, but preschools typically have large waitlists.” Spencer argued.
Naturally, all eyes in the room fell on him, waiting for him to explain.
“In the first 9-1-1 call, the UnSub said that the victim ‘shipped her son off to be cared for by strangers half the time’.” He explained, once again perfectly reciting this from memory. “What if the UnSub resents preschools and the schooling system for taking these children away from their mothers, so he’s choosing his victims off of a preschool waitlist? What if that’s where his obsession stems from because that’s where his rage stems from?”
Reid jumped up, pointing to the map he had been using to make a geographical profile.
“All of the victims live within the same school district.” He added on. “So they would be applying to the same group of preschools.”
“I’ll call Garcia.” Morgan announced.
A few minutes later, Morgan connected Garcia’s call to the comm on the center of the conference table they were working from.
“Hey, pumpkin pies.” She greeted them sweetly, as usual. “So it turns out, the preschool that Tommy Laird, and Emily Ashton, the third and the fourth victim had in common, does have a waitlist. But none of the other victims’ names were on it.”
“Come on, babygirl. I know you’re holding out on me.” Morgan said, giving a small smirk.
“Oh, my Adonis, if I don’t have your trembling anticipation, I have nothing.” Garcia giggled. “The school’s waitlist, and their applications, are handled by a firm called Gordon & Stanheight. And it turns out, they handle the applications and waitlisting for five other preschools in the area.”
“Which gives the UnSub a perfect way to pick his victims.” Morgan sighed. “The first interaction that gets him hooked might not even be in person-”
“Unless he’s picking them out of the line-up on paper and then waiting to meet them in person?” Prentiss replied. “With this type of guy, the smallest smile, a nod in his direction - that could be consent in his mind to play father to a household that’s missing one.”
“You said they handle forms for five different schools? That just widened the victim pool.” Rossi groaned.
“And the suspect pool.” Garcia added on. “The firm has thirty male employees. And I did a bit more digging - the preschool applications have ten ‘optional’ questions on the bottom that are definitely not marked as such. Questions directed at the parent filling out the form, rather than vital information about the child. Things such as: ‘what’s your favorite food?’, ‘when is your birthday?’, ‘what’s your favorite color?’, ‘do you plan on having more children?’ - typical survey schlock,”
“That would explain why the UnSub served Lisa Laird a birthday cake.” Reid sighed. “He knew it was her birthday two days before he killed her.”
“I have a feeling I’m not gonna like where this is going.” Emily sighed.
“Oh, sugar. You probably won’t.” Penelope easily agreed. “The ‘optional’ part of the forms is sold off to other companies as survey data. And those forms are seen and handled by over a thousand male employees of Gordon & Stanheight’s larger ‘data processing’ sector.”
“Well the UnSub has to be local to Portland. So narrow down the suspect list based on his last known address and go from there.” Hotch said. “Also, it would be someone who has a criminal record. Someone committing this level of violence wouldn’t be a first time offender.”
“Gotcha.” Penelope said. “Penny G, out.”
…
The team ended up raiding Gordon & Stanheight’s Portland based office.
After some pointless conversation, some threats of lawsuits, and some even larger threats of being detained for impeding an FBI investigation, the team was able to get their hands on the preschool applications. Over two-dozen boxes worth, that they would have to sort through.
So this left JJ, Reid, Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss knee deep in paper, looking for anyone who fit the UnSub’s victimology - praying that they would be able to pick out the next victim and get to her before the UnSub did.
“We’re never gonna get through these fast enough, are we?” Prentiss sighed, continuing to sift through the papers.
“We just have to go as fast as we can, and hope the UnSub sticks to his schedule.” Morgan replied. “He has to spend time stalking them, learning their routine. Even if he has chosen his victim by now, he won’t break into the house until he’s fully confident that he won’t be disrupted.”
“And the stalking helps build up the fantasy.” Reid added on. “He romanticizes them from afar, sends them gifts. It adds to his delusions of grandeur and forbidden love. The idea that he’s swooping in to become the perfect father figure for these ‘broken’ families.”
“So we’re hanging all our hopes on the idea that this psychopath needs time to ‘fall in love’ with his next victim before he kills her?” Prentiss groaned.
“Sadly, yes.” Rossi confirmed.
“It helps that most of these applications are from two-parent households.” JJ pointed out. “We can throw out anything with a second applicant on the form, because he’s only targeting single mothers.”
The rest of the conversation easily became quiet in Spencer’s ears when he saw it.
It should have been just another page among the sea of paper in his hands, but when he saw those words on the page - that name - it was like a punch to the gut. It pushed all the air out of him in seconds, it made him dizzy, made him struggle to breathe. Like a reel flashing through his mind, it brought back a flood of memories he thought he had locked away forever.
It was you.
What the hell were you doing applying for preschools?
Spencer rushed to tear this paper away from the others in order to read it more carefully.
Surely enough, the application was filled out in your handwriting. Something that had barely changed over the years. And it was all right there, laid out in front of his eyes, clear as day -
You had a son.
A son named Sebastian, who was three years old. Spencer checked the date on the form, eagerly looking for a birth date for your son. His birthday had just recently passed, actually, so he was four years old now.
And his birth date was… fuck.
He had been born eight and a half months, almost nine months exactly after the two of you had broken up. Your son had been born eight and a half months after the day you had left and Spencer had never seen you again.
One thousand, seven hundred and two days.
Four years, eight months, and two days.
It wasn’t difficult math.
Your son was the perfect age to be Spencer’s child. Was this Spencer’s child?
His hands began to shake at the very thought of it.
Is that why you had disappeared from his life with such haste? Because you knew that you were pregnant and you didn’t want Spencer to be a part of your child’s life?
Had you been keeping this from him intentionally?
He hadn’t thought about you in four long years, he had tried so hard not to. He had spent so long forcing himself not to miss you, and now he was struck with the realization that he might have a child out there with the woman he considered to be his regrettable lost love. A child he didn’t know - a child who he had missed four whole years with.
What the fuck was going on?
There were no pictures included with the application, and suddenly, Spencer found himself dying to see the boy. He wanted to know if there was any physical resemblance to himself, or if he was jumping to conclusions.
Maybe you had cheated on him. Maybe that was why you had left town and never contacted him again. Maybe the kid wasn’t his at all, maybe-
“Reid.” JJ called out gently, getting his attention.
Spencer suddenly realized that he was hyperventilating, staring down at the application with your name on it in his hand, wrinkling the paper as he squeezed it more frantically.
“Did you find something?”
…
All in all, the team found four different women who fit the victim pattern in the files - you being one of them.
So the team split up, ready to knock on each of the womens’ doors, preparing to warn them that if they received any gifts or saw any suspicious men lingering around them in the next few days, they should call. They had to hope that the UnSub wouldn’t move on from this victim pool if he saw the FBI around. But he was overly confident, he had contacted police before.
It could definitely work.
When Hotch found out that Spencer had known you, he said that Spencer should be the one to knock on your door. That you might find it comforting to hear that you and your child could possibly be in danger if it were coming from ‘an old friend’. Spencer stuttered over himself and didn’t have the words to explain that you weren’t just a good friend to him, but a romantic flame. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the team by telling everyone that the break-up had been messy, and sudden, and Spencer still wasn’t even completely sure what had caused it. He didn’t want to rip open his old wounds in front of everyone.
So he simply shut his mouth and got in the car with JJ, and they made their way toward your house.
…
“So…” JJ’s voice broke through the undulating silence of the car ride - filled by nothing but the sound of the car’s motor running and gears grinding inside Spencer’s mind as he tried to figure all of this out. “I do have to ask the obvious question,”
“What is that?” Spencer probed, slightly glad to be relieved of his own thoughts.
He wasn’t so glad when JJ pried those thoughts out of his mind and spilled them to the open air.
“Is the kid yours?” She wondered aloud. “I mean - when did you and Y/N break up?”
JJ had known you as Spencer’s girlfriend.
Come to think of it, she was probably the only person on the current field team who had some kind of a relationship with you back when you and Spencer dated.
Initially, it had been by accident. JJ had driven him home one night after a particularly long and sleepless case, and you had been coming to his apartment to drop off some books he had asked for (shortly after he had given you a key). When JJ saw you, her natural curiosity got the better of her - even more so when you stuck out your hand and introduced yourself as ‘Spencer’s girlfriend’ without hesitation.
The two of you got to talking, and JJ invited you to ‘girls night’. You met Elle and Penelope shortly after. You had become pretty good friends with the three of them before the break-up.
But Spencer had always felt secretive…. well, protective of you. He didn’t want Morgan teasing him about you, or him wanting to have ‘guy talk’ about things that occurred in the bedroom. Not when it might mean talking about intimate moments with you. Spencer had only introduced you to Gideon over coffee about three weeks before the break-up, and that felt like a lifetime ago.
Back then, having you, Elle, and Gideon leave his life all in a matter of a few months felt like hell on earth. It felt like being grabbed by his ankles and shaken for all he was worth. He really wasn’t sure that he was ready to see you again.
It had been four years.
JJ was someone he could lean on right now.
“Four years ago.” He told her, completely honest.
“And how old is the kid?” JJ asked.
“Four - four years old.” Spencer stuttered out, realizing that now as he was speaking about this very real possibility, he might be breathing more life into it.
“Oh my god.” JJ sighed. “Well… could it-? I mean…? Did the two of you?”
It took Spencer a moment to clue into what JJ was talking about. He gave her a sideways glance and she took her eyes off the road for a moment, raising her brows and giving him a pointed look.
“Please tell me you know what does and what doesn’t make a baby,” JJ groaned.
“Oh!” Spencer huffed, a small wave of embarrassment flooding him. “Yes! God, yes. I know.”
There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Spencer felt the need to clarify his answer.
“We - I mean. We…” He trailed off for a moment, clearing his throat. “We didn’t always use… protection. We were together for three years, at the time, it was on the table.”
“Kids were on the table for you back then?” JJ asked, clearly shocked by this. “I could not imagine little twenty-four year old Spence with a baby.”
“Well… it’s something I’ve always wanted.” He mumbled quietly in reply.
It was true. At the time, Spencer easily imagined himself getting married to you, having multiple kids with you. These days, seeing JJ with Henry and Will brought him the occasional underlying pang of jealousy - but since breaking up with you, there hadn’t been anyone else in Spencer’s life that he could have imagined having kids with. He thought that he was going to be alone and childless for the rest of his life. That the dream was long dead for him.
“Hey - then, maybe this is a blessing in disguise?” JJ posed. “If we hadn’t been looking through those forms because of this UnSub, you never would have found Y/N again. You wouldn’t even know this baby exists.”
There was another thing that JJ was dying to ask - something she held back because she felt like it was a touch too personal. (Even if ‘too personal’ was basically how the BAU team lived - knee deep in each other’s business, all the time).
She wanted to know why you had a baby, a baby that Spencer had very likely fathered, and you hadn’t contacted him about it. Spencer seemed entirely clueless about the child’s existence before now, and JJ knew that because of what his own father had been like, he wouldn’t just blow off a kid that was his if he knew that one was out there in the world.
So why hadn’t you told Spencer about the baby?
“What if the kid isn’t yours?” JJ wondered aloud.
Maybe that would unburden him. She knew that either way, Spencer would fight to protect you from the UnSub. But if the kid wasn’t his - he would walk away again, and he wouldn’t have to be hung up on the heartbreak of dealing with his ex just to parent a child together.
“Honestly… I think I’ll be more heartbroken if I find out that he’s not even mine.” Spencer told her, his voice quiet and already lulling with that disappointment.
That was not something JJ had considered. She frowned as she saw the sadness paint across Spencer’s face.
“One thing at a time, alright?”
…
When they pulled into your driveway, Spencer’s mind immediately began churning.
It was a nice house. It was a beautiful, quiet neighborhood. The front yard was clean and trimmed and there was a silver SUV in the driveway with a ‘baby on board’ sticker in the rear window. There was a rocking chair on the porch, but he didn’t see many children’s toys out front on the lawn. He guessed that was a good thing. Letting children play in the front where they could run into the street and potentially get hit by a car was too dangerous. He was glad to already see signs that you were a good mother.
Spencer felt like he was opening up a book halfway, desperately wanting to be filled in on the previous chapters while having missed so much. Still wanting to read ahead and see more.
He had already missed so much of your son’s life. He had missed you. That was something forming the biggest knot in his gut. He had truly missed you. The times he had allowed himself to think of you over these past few years - he had missed you so dearly.
And now the two of you likely had a child together.
Craning his neck to get a better look, desperately trying to take in more information, Spencer’s eyes were wide and hungry as JJ put the car in park by the curb in front of your house. As Spencer reached for the passenger side door handle, JJ’s phone rang.
“I have to take this.” She sighed. “You go ahead.”
She gave Spencer a distinct look that said ‘I know you need a minute alone with Y/N’, and he nodded, stepping out of the vehicle while she greeted whoever was on the other line. He smoothed down his tie - for once in his whole life, he was actually worried about how he looked. Only because he knew that he was going to see you. Perhaps he had only ever felt like this before going on his first date with you.
He had such a strange lashing of emotions going through him as he approached the door. Fear, anxiety, anticipation. Longing.
He truly had tried so hard to lock away his feelings for you when you had left. He had tried to move on. He had considered, briefly, in passing, dating other women. There had been times when someone else caught his eye, and he considered asking her out on a date. Morgan had offered to ‘set him up’. Penelope had offered too, telling him that he deserved to ‘get back out there’.
Whenever she asked about you, his heart freshly cracked open.
At one point, she had advised him to write a long, Shakespearian letter, pouring out his heart to you in an effort to get you back - one which she would mail. (Because of course, she could get your new address in a heartbeat.) But he didn’t want to experience the heartbreak all over again if you ignored him. He didn’t want to sit, waiting by the mailbox every single day like a lost dog, waiting for you to write him back in return.
You had disappeared from his life for a reason. Just like everyone else had. For a long time, Spencer convinced himself that he was simply meant to end up alone.
Perhaps if he had known about your son - a child that could very well be his - then he might have felt differently about getting Penelope to contact you.
But now he was standing at your front door, his fist shaking as he raised his hand to knock.
He let out a sharp breath and steadied himself, giving three swift, firm knocks against the door and then trying to wait patiently. His heart thumped inside of his throat, and it felt like forever.
“Sorry!” Your voice called out from behind the door, muffled. “Sorry, I almost didn’t hear you. I was-”
You cut off your own words as you opened the door - the moment you caught Spencer’s eye and recognized it was him, pure shock fell across your features, and you froze on the spot.
You were just as stunning as ever. You had barely aged at all - your hair was different than the last time he had seen you, of course. And you were dressed casually - wearing a simple hooded sweatshirt with a drawstring and a pair of jeans with some fuzzy slipper boots on. But pale blue looked so good on you.
So much like the pale blue dress you had worn on your first date with him.
You were breath-taking.
“Y/N.” He greeted you, his throat dry already.
You didn’t say anything, simply continuing to stare him down with wide-eyed shock.
Seeing you again, Spencer couldn’t help but to think back to that first date.
The first night that he knew he was in love with you.
…
He had taken you to see the Virginia Symphony Orchestra.
It was Spencer’s idea of a good time - and it ended up being one of the most beautiful, most romantic, most unique first dates that you had ever been on.
It was difficult not to fall for him with the beautiful music in the air and his glossy eyes, so sickeningly thick with affection, staring you down all night.
Afterwards, the two of you stopped to get ice cream at a small shop that was a short walk down from the orchestra. And now you were both enjoying your ice cream as you walked along in the cool night air - enjoying the peace and quiet and the gentle breeze in the darkness.
It was a perfect night.
Spencer could think of no better way to spend it than with you. The yellow bulbs of the street lights practically cast a glow onto your skin, the mulberry lipstick now worn off your lips as you brought the pink spoon to your mouth and licked up your sweet treat.
His stomach was churning with nerves. Joyous nerves.
And as per usual, when he was nervous - he rambled.
“You know, Bach actually married his cousin.” He said, spouting off the first thing that came to mind.
You told him that Bach was one of your favorite composers - it’s why he had thought to bring you to the orchestra on a date in the first place.
“I did not know that.” You giggled. “So what? Was it like a ‘third cousin twice removed’ type situation?”
Spencer found himself grinning at the fact that you actually engaged him in the conversation, rather than staring at him with an odd look for bringing up such a strange topic.
“Not quite.” He replied. “They had the same surname before marriage.”
“Oh, ew.” You chuckled again, giving a shudder at the thought of this.
Spencer knew it was an odd topic to discuss on a date, and if he rambled on too much, it might freak you out - but he couldn’t stop himself. His mouth ran away with him, and he continued.
“He married Maria Barbara Bach, and they had seven children together.” He told you. “His sons, Wilhelm Friedemann and Carl Philipp Emanuel became composers and musicians much like their father, which was actually carrying on a legacy started by Bach’s father himself - who was a seventh generation musician. He was the one who taught Bach the organ from a very young age.”
“Why don’t people play the organ anymore?” You wondered aloud. “Except in churches, I guess. The organ rocks.”
Spencer’s brain began rocketing off at the fact that you had asked him a question. A question he could answer.
“The organ has actually long been associated with divinity.” He replied. “The instrument rose in popularity alongside Catholicism throughout the eighteenth century, and in a sense, that was part of what made Bach a sort of ‘rockstar’ of his time. The religious references in his work, and his mastery of the organ - all of it made him incredibly popular at the time because it caused him to be favored by the church and by royal figures associated with the church.”
Spencer gleamed a large smile, heavily enjoying that he could share these facts with you. He thought for certain that any moment, you would change the subject or imply that he should stop talking. But instead, you engaged the conversation more.
“Religious references?” You questioned, wondering what he meant by this.
“Yes!” Spencer grinned, suddenly very excited by the explanation behind this. “Even in his secular music, Bach would often incorporate the acronym ‘INJ’, a Latin abbreviation that means ‘In Nomine Jesu’, or ‘in the name of Jesus’. It was something he put on all of his manuscripts.”
You grinned back. You found it fascinating that being around Spencer for such short periods of time caused you to learn so many things. It easily made you want to be around him more.
“Interesting.” You replied.
“And his talent on the organ was seen as something that made him ‘divine’ at the time. Divine enough to be worthy of performing for royalty.” Spencer added on. “In 1708, Bach got a position as the court organist in Weimer for Duke Wilhelm. And later when he requested early release from this position, desiring to go work for Prince Leopold of Koethen, the Duke actually had him arrested and put in jail for several weeks in 1716.”
Spencer laughed at this mental image - the composer being put in jail.
“Ooh, harsh.” You sighed. “But I guess Dukes have too much power.”
Spencer let out another bright laugh at this.
“And see, the interesting thing is, Bach later became the conductor of the court orchestra, in which Prince Leopold played.”
“So he got his wish,” You replied with a smile.
“And see-”
Spencer set off on another rant again, and you couldn’t help yourself. You put your spoon into the cup of ice cream and then you used your now free hand to reach out and grab Spencer by his tie - you pulled him toward you before he could get anymore words out, and he let out a shocked, choked-off sound when you pressed your mouth into his.
He sighed gently against your lips, and unconsciously dropped his own melting chocolate cone on the ground by his feet as his limp hands drifted toward your waist. He was dizzy, and now every single fact he had ever known about any composer had vanished from his head. In that moment, standing under a random street lamp on a random sidewalk somewhere - all he knew was the soft, pillowy feeling of your lips and the cool night breeze against his skin.
It was perfect. You were perfect.
You found his intelligence and the enthusiasm with which he spoke to be so utterly irresistible. You had been on so many dates with men before where they had acted like talking about their interests was a chore. Where they had made it seem like the whole thing was simply a routine, waiting for the end of the night so they could get into your pants. And for them, that’s what it probably was.
But Spencer was nothing like that.
He spoke about everything with such intense passion - and you couldn’t resist the urge to try and suck that very passion off his lips.
When you were forced to pull back slightly, your lungs crying out for oxygen, Spencer let out a gentle moan and began puffing out sweet little pants across your chin as he tried to catch his breath. You kept a hold of his tie, wanting to keep him close, and he stayed there, gently pressing his forehead against yours.
“That was… wow.” He sighed.
“I didn’t think I would ever find you at a loss for words, Doctor Reid.” You replied with a giggle.
“Well, I - you - wow.”
It was all he could muster, causing you both to break down into laughter.
Back then - everything had been perfect.
He had no clue where it all went so wrong.
...
Continue reading: Chapter Two - Liar
#sundrop writes#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#dad!spencer reid#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds x you#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic
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Day 6: Dry Hump- James Potter
Summary: James Potter was your best friend, and he was unequivocally in love with Lily Evans. However, he has one secret he trusts only with you: he’s never kissed anyone.
Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, inexperienced James & experienced Reader, friends with benefits vibes, kissing/making out, dry humping, cumming in pants, teasing, nearly caught
Part 2 // Part 3
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James Potter was your best friend. He had many best friends, including the other Marauders and fellow Gryffindors, but he was YOUR best friend and had been since the first year at Hogwarts. James was the one person you always ran to and shared all happy memories with; if you needed cheering up, he’d be the only one who could pull a smile to your lips. It had always been just the two of you until he became infatuated with Lily Evans.
It had been years of hearing about how wonderful Lily was, which you knew anyway as she was your friend. Finally, you convinced her to say yes to one date with James, even though she did wait until everyone was finishing their time at Hogwarts and about to graduate. He’d waited long enough, and you were thrilled to see him getting his dream date.
This was until he casually announced one day, “I’ve never kissed anyone”.
He’d mumbled it to himself under his breath. James had gone from pure exhilarated joy to fear and doubt at the weight he’d put on his shoulders for having to be the perfect date for Lily. You’d taken him to the Shrieking Shack to try and get away from everyone else so that James could blow off some steam, but all he’d done so far was sulk in his armchair and stare into the fire whilst waiting for Sirius and Remus to join after their lesson.
Then, out of the blue, he admitted his secret that he had yet to kiss anyone. A frown dawns on you as you turn away from the book in your hand to inspect the messy-haired Marauder next to you visually. “What?” you asked with a hint of uncertainty as if he was telling the truth, “How have you never kissed anyone before?” Your mind raced to all of the parties in the Gryffindor tower where most people, including yourself, had made out with others, but now that you thought about it, you’d never seen James lip-locked with anyone else.
It was James’ turn to frown as he looked at you blankly, “When would I have had time? I’ve just wanted to be with Lily, and she’s always said no when I’ve asked before. Anyway, I don’t see why you’re saying it in that tone; it’s not like you’ve been kissing loads of people”. You give James a tight-lipped smile to show that he was, in fact, very wrong with that statement. His eyes widen as he realises the truth, “Wait, you have? Since when?”
“James, how can you be shocked? I’ve kissed plenty of people before, especially during those parties with the fire whiskey that Sirius always steals for us. You wander off with the Marauders or fawn over Lily, and what am I supposed to do? Stand on my own? Absolutely not, I go and find some fun”.
Your best friend’s mouth drops open in shock. Still, he quickly covers it up by looking away grumpily, “Great, so I’m the only person in our year who hasn’t kissed anyone, and now, I’m going to take Lily out, and she’s going to refuse to see me again because I don’t know what I’m doing, we’re going to finish school, and I’ll never see her again, and I’ll die alone!”.
You couldn’t help but laugh at his over-the-top rant, shutting the book with a loud snap and facing him completely whilst still in your chair. “James, you need to chill out a bit; I’m sure it’ll be fine. Do you really think Lily’s been going around snogging loads of boys? I’m sure she’s just as inexperienced as you”.
James’ shoulders dropped in relief as he turned back towards you with hope in his hazel eyes, “Do you think so?”
Your face immediately gave it away that you’d been lying as you sighed, “Ok, I might have seen her making out with a Ravenclaw a year ago, but still, I wouldn’t worry about it! You’ll be excellent! You’re James Potter, the Gryffindor King, a founding Marauder and Gryffindor Seeker. You can sure as hell make out with Lily Evans correctly”.
The pretty Marauder smiled thankfully at your dramatic declaration, “That’s true, thanks, Sweetheart”. Relaxing back into your seat, the book returned to your hand, assuming the conversation was officially over. However, only a moment later, James is whining pathetically, “But what if I’m not good? What if I hurt her or lick her wrong or-”.
“Lick? Why are you licking her, James? I thought we were on about kissing?”
“We are! But you know, people use tongues and-”
“James, I don’t know what you want me to say; if you’re that petrified with kissing, why don’t we practice a little so you can stop freaking out”. It took you a couple of long seconds before the offer you’d just given him genuinely dawned on you. You weren’t sure why you had said it, expecting him to say no but wishing for him to calm down and thinking this was the only option.
James’ head snapped towards you, giving his full attention as he asked, “Wait, you’d do that?” He pushed himself up off the chair's arms, and his eyes were wide and hopeful again.
Lowering the book, you spoke slowly, “Yeah, sure. I mean, it’s just a kiss, and at least we’re friends, so no feelings have to be involved”.
“Yeah, that's a good point! Okay, right, so, um, how do we do this? Do I come over to you, or do we stand?”
Sighing at James, you stood abruptly, dropping the book and strutting to him with arms swinging. The marauder sits up suddenly, taking his feet off the stool he had been resting on as he stares up at you with wide eyes that you can see the whites of his eyes beneath his glasses. “What are you doing?” He questions uncertainly as you straddle his lap without a word, your knees resting on either side of his toned thighs, your fingers slipping around his neck and interlocking at the base of his skull.
“I’m going to kiss you, James. Is that alright with you?” You didn’t mean to sound sassy as you asked with a single raised questioning eyebrow, but you also needed to make sure that he was happy for this to continue.
Those two wide hazel eyes stared at your lips, licking his own to moisten as he slowly nodded, “Uh yeah, just tell me what to do.” A pang of sympathy rushed through your chest at seeing James becoming nervous, which was not usually a sight that you had to see as he was usually such a confident, happy person. You would have spent some time to explain that it was normal to be nervous during your first kiss, but you didn’t want to allow any more time for him to freak out, so loosening your intern locked fingers, you moved them to cup each of her freshly shaved cheeks and pressed your lips delicately against his. You wanted it to be quick enough that he didn’t even have time to tense, even though he did proceed to lock up as you moved back to assess his reaction.
“See, it’s not so scary. You’re supposed to enjoy this, James”. Thankfully, as your face lowered once more, he forced himself to take a steadying breath and relax the tension in his muscles as your lips caressed his.
They were softer than you’d anticipated, plump and smooth like a pillow and instantly, your eyes and his close. However, James surprised you by moving his first. His hand lifted and rested on your hip so gently that you hardly felt it until he gave your body a little squeeze to test the waters of how much he could get into the moment. So you rewarded him by pressing your face harder against his, lips beginning to move and rubbing against each other on instinct.
James even amazed himself with how naturally and quickly he could make out with you. Tilting your head, you deepened the kiss, nose pressing into his cheek so that you could smell his skin that had remnants of his aftershave, which was always spicy and woodsy. As the air became necessary, you pulled back enough to take deep, greedy breaths, now noticing he was doing the same thing but looking up at you with half-lidded eyes.
“So what did you think-”
James didn’t allow your sentence to finish as his other hand cupped along your jaw, pulling your face closer again until the two of you kissed with much more heat with the movements. His mouth opened wider to match how yours was moving against his; your heartbeat quickened as you leaned further into his tall, warm body, melting into his touch and kiss.
Then you wanted to take a risk and licked his bottom lip, which you were ultimately greeted with a praising deep groan of satisfaction that vibrated James’ entire chest and sent tingles straight to your core.
Ok, wow, you thought as James attempted and succeeded with his own lick back against your tongue; you were definitely getting turned on by this. As if he was reading your mind, James pressed harder on your hips, willing you to move down, which you did, your skirt pushing up on your thighs so that when you sat on his crotch, your panty-covered pussy was flush against the material of his trousers.
As one, the two of you pulled away from each other. Mainly because you were now sitting on his very hard erection and also because he knew you could feel his evidence of being aroused. You both stare at each other with wide, unblinking eyes, lips slightly swollen and the taste of his spit still on your tongue.
However, you didn’t want to stop and awkwardly sit back in your seat, and he wasn’t rushing to push you off, either. You were horny, and so was he. Yes, James Potter was your best friend, but that didn’t have to matter; you just wanted him to enjoy the moment and show that it wasn’t as scary as he thought.
Enough time passed, and if he didn’t want to continue, he would have said something by now, so you took the opportunity to lean back in, your thumb attempting to soothe him, stroking across his cheek in timid circles. As your mouths reconnected, your hips ground down on his crotch. You were hoping that he knew enough about anatomy to tell that the warmth from your pussy was a sign of arousal, wanting him to know you were just as turned on as he was.
You do it a few more times, rubbing back and forth with increasing pressure until James makes a pained noise that has you stopping altogether and checking in on him.
He’s looking everywhere but at you, as he apologises, “Sorry, it’s just these trousers are tight and rubbing me painfully”.
“You could just take them off”, you say once again, not thinking before you speak. James looks at you with dramatically wide eyes as he, too, realised what you’d just said. Quickly, you clarified, “I’m not saying that to have sex or anything; I just mean, we could kinda carry on doing what we are doing, but if your trousers are hurting, then just in your boxers”.
You’re surprised by his automatic response of a nod, yes, his arousal blocking all thoughts of Lily as he begins to undo his belt easily. Rising onto your knees to give him room, he pushed the offending material until his thighs were bare and his plaid boxers were on display, barely containing his length. Not wanting him to feel exposed, you lowered yourself once more, and both groaned at the contact, yours at a higher pitch as you could feel the entire outline of his cock against your cunt.
James was bigger than you’d thought and was currently pointing down his left thigh, so you angled your hips in this direction. Tilting your hips forward slightly, your clit grazed along his shaft, causing a hitch in your breath as it caused pleasure to pool in your abdomen, moisture slickening your hole with each movement.
You’re breathing just as heavily as he is, lips still moving against each other, exploring, tasting, needing more. You were kind of proud of him when he moved his face down your jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses and causing more pleasure to pulse through you. You were half tempted to rise onto your knees again to show him the evidence of your arousal that had soaked through your panties and onto his boxers, but you didn’t want it to stop.
As your fingers delved into his messy black hair to hold his face closer, he thrust his hips up against yours to add to his stimulation. He was still apprehensive, so he didn’t push too hard, but he rocked back and forth until his tip was pressed against your clothed folds. The muscular thighs beneath yours tensed with each thrust, the muscles defined from all his years of playing quidditch.
His hands remained in place, one on the opposite side of your jaw to where his mouth still kissed, and the other hand helped to move your hips back and forth in time with his own ruts. You’d never actually gotten off like this with anyone before. Usually, underwear would be removed at this point, and more direct contact could occur, but it was still exciting to have some barriers between you. The lace of your underwear was quite rough against your most sensitive area, especially your engorged throbbing clit. You were sure to be sore afterwards, especially with the amount of pressure you were rubbing against each other; with each passing second, the need to find completion made you both desperate.
As his lips found yours again, his tongue began to delve and explore the hollow of your mouth, along your palate and even over your teeth; your pussy began to clench, fire blooming in your core with the impending release.
Pulling back, your fingers moved to rest on his shoulders to hold on tighter as you quickly moaned, “Please don’t stop; I’m going to cum”.
James moaned huskily, out of breath, but both of his hands were now on your hips, moving both his hips and yours faster to find his orgasm. Resting your forehead on his, you both shared the same area, still tasting the other in your mouths, sweat beginning to coat your faces. You were sure you could feel his own wet patch against your arse cheek from where precum was dribbling from his tip and staining his underwear.
“Ah, fuck- James!” your head tilts back as you finally orgasm, thighs shaking and pussy fluttering around nothing. However, just as you were beginning to come down from your pleasurable high, James suddenly grabbed you painfully, both arms wrapping around your waist as he sat up further on the chair, nearly knocking you off of him if it wasn't for his grip around your midsection. Reassuringly your arms wrapped around his shoulders as his face nuzzled into your chest, his body shivering as thick spurts of cum soaked his boxers.
His moans were like music to your ears and sounded slightly pathetic, making you cling to him more, attempting to run your fingers through his hair to calm the crazy style, but to no avail. Your pussy felt like it was on fire due to the rough stimulation and the untouched orgasm, but it felt so good you savoured the sensation for a few minutes whilst trying to catch your breath.
“There you go, Potter. Not only have you kissed a girl for the first time, but you’ve also made her cum”.
James laughs, loosening his grip slightly to look up at you, but then you both hear the worst noise imaginable: voices from a few floors below, especially those of Sirius and Remus. You scrambled to your feet, straightening your clothes and sitting back in your chair, picking up the book and opening it to a random page as James pulled up his trousers, both of you ignoring the bodily juices completely.
James just about had his feet back on the footstool before Sirius and Remus walked in, but both immediately halted and looked between you and James. It was Sirius who spoke first, eyes squinting in accusation, “Why do you both look so guilty right now? What did you do?”
#james potter#james potter smut#james potter x reader#james potter one shot#harry potter smut#harry potter#mine*#kinktober#kinktober 2023
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pride ☆ mv1
genre: smut, established relationship, stubborn!max, jealous!max, humor, fluff
word count: 3k
After his DNF, Max finds himself losing his temper when you keep insisting that it was his fault. Due to both ends, you find yourself in a constant battle on who can admit defeat first.
nsfw warning under the cut!
18+... gym sex - that's all teheee
req!...super fun to write, thank u, anon for the idea !!
He never liked to be pointed out as the one who did something wrong on track. Then again, he rarely ever made those types of mistakes. Max got along with everyone on the grid, but he was there to win. And he certainly did not need his girlfriend reminding him that he’s human, just like the rest of the drivers.
“Just admit it already, you fucked up this time. You cut him off.”
A DNF was as bad as it could get, his mood quickly deteriorated as he bangs his helmet against the wall. If you weren’t used to his dark behavior, then you would have definitely worried. Instead, you tap your foot impatiently with a deep sigh, eyes rolling with strong annoyance. You didn’t like to see him like this, but it drove you crazy that he could never own up to his wrongdoings.
The Dutch harshly rips off his balaclava, dirty blond hair sticking against his angry face, normally baby blue eyes switching to a devilish color. “You’re such a…” A deep growl. “He cut me off, and that’s what got us both out of the race. What a fucking dick.”
Your brow raises up, pointing at him with accusement. “My thoughts exactly.” Turning on your heel, you spin around and walk out of his driver's room, leaving him to sulk like a manchild. Stupid, Lando.
As soon as the race ends, you sheepishly make your way to the young Brit. “Is he mad?” he asks. You shrug as if you care about what your boyfriend is feeling at this very moment. Max wasn’t the kind to get mad, he got furious.
“He’ll get over it. Though I do suggest you run the opposite way if you spot him.” He laughs, eyes crinkling with agreement. After apologizing on behalf of the grumpy Dutchman, you hurry off to find him. Propped up against the door frame, you nervously play with the hem of your dress as you inch your way closer. You can practically see the color red blooming out of him as he smiles bitterly.
“And where were you?” His voice expands softly, it makes your stomach churn, but you put on a brave face nonetheless, refusing to give in to his ego. It doesn’t matter. He chuckles, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek, head shaking in disapproval. “Aren’t I the one you should be consoling? I don’t see why you had to go see him.”
Your eyebrows narrow down sharply. “Max, you’re being a fucking baby, you caused the crash! Lando was just unlucky and I went to let him know, is that so wrong?”
The Dutch fumes, jaw clenching. “You can go see him, I don’t give a fuck, but stop saying it was my fault. He closed in on me.” You scoff, arms crossed. “This is pure bullshit.”
“Whatever, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m glad you’re alright,” you sourly say, pushing past him to go and retrieve your things, getting ready to leave back to the hotel. His nose twitches, following after you. Neither of you utter a single word, simply packing and strolling out the door. As soon as the media gets involved and Lando walks by with a shy smile and wave, he instinctively grabs your hand, leading you through the tight crowd with a bright smile, despite his crash.
Setting aside your differences, you’re grateful for his sweet gesture, even if it laces with a bit of possessiveness. The drive is tense, only the sound of the blinker being heard. You try adding some music, but as soon as he turns off the radio, you turn to him, hair slapping your flushed face. “Why did you do that?” Your hand slides back up, turning it on. He repeats his same actions, leaving you to burn lasers to the side of his head.
“Your music is complete shit.” Surprised by his cold tone, your right eye twitches like a crazy person before turning your attention back towards the road. He feels bad. He’s not mad at you, not even at his friend. But he wasn’t the biggest fan of letting his team down, and much less, owning up to it.
Pushing the door open, you march in, making your way to the bathroom, ready to shower off the irritation. Max trails after you without a second thought, then you slam the door right on his face. He blinks. He can hear you turning the water on, stripping down. “You’re taking a shower by yourself this time, you dickhead.”
-
The next few races run smoother as he finishes in first place for most of them. All of them, actually. But his wins aren’t worth it in the end. Not with your rigid congratulations, forced kisses as you wait for him along with a puddle of photographers. It shouldn’t strike him as strange; you were still upset. For a second, he considers putting his pride aside and try to fix things, make amends, but when you mumble next to him, he quickly throws that out the window.
“Baby finally got fed his bottle.”
All his pent up emotions came rushing back as you wear an innocent smile. With a sullen glare, he walks out, leaving you to gloat. Two can play that game.
Here’s the thing with yours and Max's relationship; it was amazing. A fucking dream. You loved each other like crazy, but when you both get into an argument, it can drag out for the longest time. Your friends had pointed it out countless times, accusing you two for being freakishly stubborn. Oftentimes, he’d be the first to give up and apologize, and sometimes it was you. Only this time, it looked like a long haul.
It was a weird dynamic. He still kissed you goodbye, reminded you how much he loved you. You still attended his races, glowed with sincere happiness for every podium of his, but apart from that, you two still held on to your end of the rope. And it’s been so long. One month? Maybe two?
“Four fucking months,” Max grunts, large hands fixing his drinking straw that connects to his suit. The Dutch is clearly frustrated, Checo could tell as he warily eyes his teammate. The Mexican driver poured out an amused chuckle. Max curls a dark brow. “What?”
Checo halts. “Nothing, man. You’re just being so…how do I put this nicely?” He clicks his fingers enthusiastically. “You’re acting like a douchebag. Puras pendejadas, lo que estás haciendo.” The blue eyed boy shakes his head.
“I don’t know what you mean by that.” He walks away.
“It means you’re doing stupid shit for absolutely no reason. Take it from me, I’m married! I know what I’m talking about, and as your elder, I suggest apologizing. It’ll fix everything, trust me.” But Max only ignores him, already climbing into his car. As much as he would love to try and make things right with the woman he adores like a complete idiot, there’s always something that ruins it. Whether it’s you witty reminders, or your cruel ignorance.
Though, he feels like he’s going crazy. He can feel his hands itch as they beg to hug you the way they were used to. Or to kiss your plump lips, slightly red from your constant nibbles. You can feel his eyes on you as you cut up a group of vegetables, getting things ready for dinner. Like a tease, you bend down to pick up the bag of carrots that had just fallen. You giggle. “Whoops.”
Abruptly, he stands up. “I’m going to get in a small workout before we eat.” That’s all. Left there with your jaw on the floor, you slam the knife against the cutting board.
You missed him. You’d be insane not to. You missed cuddling with him after a long day. You missed the way he would cradle your face to kiss you eagerly after every win. Now it’s almost as if you’re a couple of strangers with the way he keeps a careful distance. And if he wasn’t going to fix things, then you would force him to.
He hears you before he actually sees you. Not a single word escapes past your lips as you skip closer. His molars grind together when he notices your tiny skirt, paired with a tank top. Perky tits salute him as he holds back a groan. Smiling sweetly, you start to stretch. “Thought I’d join you. Didn’t want to eat without you.”
His heart squeezes, ghostly nodding. Adjusting himself on the bench, he starts his set of overhead presses. Loopy eyes circle his glistening muscles as he pants tiredly, shaky breaths bouncing off of him. You have to physically stop yourself from drooling an entire ocean.
The blue eyed boy leads an impressive set, a thin layer of sweat coating him like a blanket. One you would gladly roll around in. Pursing your lips, your limbs feel extremely weak all of a sudden and decide to settle with laying down and bringing your legs up, skirt sliding down, exposing your soft skin.
“So tight,” you whine when you reach up, muscles tied up in an uncomfortable spot. Intrigued, your boyfriend takes a peek and instantly curses, large hands gripping against the metal bar. He gulps. “Maxie, can you push my legs back for me?”
His breath hitches. “No. I’m sure you can do that yourself.”
Sitting up straight, you squint your beady eyes at him as he distracts himself by adding more weight to his set. You click your tongue, a menacing grin tugging at your pink lips. “Messed up, baby, you are messed up.”
Max curses himself for falling in love with someone as beautiful as you. It seriously messed him up a concerning amount. Suddenly there was no more cold demeanor when it came to you. That simply just belonged to the rest because you were everything to him.
“First, you’re too much of a pussy to admit your mistakes and now you’re too scared to get near me?” You scoff. “It’s all starting to add up.”
Except at this very moment.
“And what exactly is that? If you don’t mind me asking.”
Kneeling down onto the black mat, you stretch your arms out against it, and lay your back flat. You hum. “Oh.” You arch your back, ass angling upwards where his eyes quickly trace to. You smirk. “Nothing.”
If he weren’t so impressed by your bratty act, he would have definitely walked out on you. But you just looked so pretty, rosy, and you were glistening. He wonders what else there was on top of that. The Dutch moves on to a bench press. Huffing, he grits his teeth as he extends his arm before puffing and bringing them back down.
The 26 year old, despite your attempts, was as focused as he could possibly be. The adrenaline was lingering in his entire system as he kept his eyes trained upward. Chest locking tightly, muscles contracting. And then he hears it. Your tiny moans, soft whimpers.
The loud sound of him dropping the weight makes you jump up a bit before looking up. He finds you in your first position you had started with when you first stepped foot into the home gym. He can feel his cock press harshly against his white shorts. “Why are you…” He trails off when your mouth drops open, brows scrunching together. Your thighs beg to be kissed. Slippery arms tug your legs closer to you as you giggle.
“My legs are too tight.” His chest tightens. “Help me get more flexible?” you press innocently as you signal for him to push your legs. “Please, Maxie.”
Sighing, he nods. As soon as he steps close to you, he can feel your pouring lust, fuck me eyes staring back up at his frame. Grabbing the heels of your feet, he pushes back as you groan. “Oh shit.” You laugh, chest vibrating against the mat. “I really needed the extra push.”
He grimaces. A silence lingers between you two before you wiggle your left foot against his palm. He raises a confused brow. I’m going to tuck it to my chest. Just hold the right one. Doing as instructed, you sigh in relief, lashes fluttering. He holds back a much needed grunt. “You’re telling me you couldn’t do this yourself?”
You nip the air. “We’re not all professional athletes, Max. I needed you.”
You can see how hard your implication is hitting him as his gaze darkens. And just as he’s about to reach out for you, you wiggle your brows. Next leg. Snapping out of trance, he eyes the way your skirt rides down your skin. In a swift movement, he lets go and takes a staggered step back. You grin. What’s wrong?
“You’re crazy.”
Standing up, you place both hands on your waist. “Why?”
Max doesn’t even recall when he pins you against the wall, your hair flying from the impactful blow, and yet, you’re smirking. Kissing you harshly, you groan, leaning against your tippy toes as you struggle to breath. He seems to be lost in your lips as he cradles your face, teeth clashing against yours at the filthy action. “You’re so beautiful,” he pants, blues staring back. “So fucking beautiful.”
Whimpering, you reach back out for him, plump lips attacking his thick neck as he sighs. The purple bruises were definitely something he would hound you on tomorrow, but for now that was the least of his worries. Admiring the colorful spot, you lick it slowly. He shudders.
“I can suck something else, you know?”
You almost don’t recognize his growl, for you haven’t heard it in so long, that it catches you by surprise as he spins you around, bending you over the nearest counter, where his wall of protein stands. He hitches your skirt up as you gasp when his fingers slide inside of you. The way he stretches you out makes you see stars as you struggle to keep upward.
“Wore this just for me, right? You knew it would drive me crazy?” His long fingers curl at the perfect angle as you nod. Yes, yes. I wore it just for you. I knew you’d like it. You squeal when he lifts you up, tits pressing against the cold marble, legs dangling like a doll. His doll. He watches the way you swallow his digits. “I fucking love it, baby…”
Then, he’s down on his knees as he wraps his lips around your clit. Moaning loudly, you press your cheek against the cool tiles, saliva dripping out of your mouth at the sensation. In your fucked up state, you still reach out for him as he grabs your hand. “You taste so sweet,” he hums. You’re close to crying when he pulls away, but calm down when he thrusts into you.
The Dutch throws his head back as soon as your velvety walls wrap around his cock, the way you swallow him whole. Makes him hate himself for holding onto his pride for so long. For keeping you away. His heart races when you prop yourself on your elbows as stare back at him with tired, lustful eyes. He grins, slapping your ass as you yelp. You ass tilts up as he watches you struggle to keep up.
Warm hands come up to keep you close to him as you bite down on your lip. “You’re a fucking brat, but God, I hate it because you were right. I pushed him off. I did, I did, I did…” His dirty hair sticks against his face as you bounce forward with every pound. “But he was making you laugh - smile - and I just couldn’t handle that.”
Your heart stops. This was news to you because there was no way the Max you knew so well would break his winning streak all due to a friendly encounter. He pecks your bare shoulder. “I don’t think you understand how much I love you.”
“Then show me.”
WIth that, he holds onto your hips with more grip as his tip brushes repeatedly against your g-spot. You’re a mess, but he’s loving every second of it. As soon as he wraps a large hand around your breast, you’re gone, spluttering white all around him as he follows. With a croaky groan, he slips out as you fall back to your original spot. He chuckles. He fixes your skirt before helping you sit up to face him. Your eyes crinkle.
“You love me,” you say in a sing-song voice as you poke his dimple. I thought I made that clear. You scrunch your nose, pecking his face all over with sloppy kisses. He playfully winces, but accepts nonetheless. “You love me, love me. Why would you ever worry about me and Lando? You know he’s just a friend.”
His smile drops as it's replaced with a scowl. “I wasn’t worried, per se. I don’t like someone else making you laugh. That’s my job.”
Your brows arch. “What are you suggesting? That I just keep mute for the rest of my days, unless I’m with you?”
Max shrugs. “Sounds like a solid plan.”
You smack his chest as he throws his head back with laughter. “No. Not a solid anything. Max, I love you.”
“I know,” he whispers.
“Okay,” you confirm, fixing your posture, lips pursing. “But please never do that again, that’s just plain out dangerous and crazy. A big no-no, Emilian.” He glares and your lips wobble childishly. “You love wins, and I love celebrating them with you. It just works.”
“You know what doesn’t work?” he retorts as he hugs you. You hum, comfortable against his warmness. “Not talking to me for four months, what were you thinking?” You push him away abruptly. We spoke! “But we didn’t fuck, and that’s the same thing.”
Crossing your arms, you roll your eyes as he stares back in awe. “If you keep this up then I’m going to crank it up to eight,” you threaten.
The Dutch nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck before you cave in. “Let’s not do that. You’d be breaking my heart.”
taglist: @myownwritings @d3kstar @crucifiedbitch
*note: i've only tagged those who asked to be included in general. i've kept that apart from the method acting series taglist!! lmk in which you would like to be, just in case!
#max verstappen smut#max verstappen angst#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x female reader#max verstappen blurb#f1 smut#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#formula 1#formula one#f1 x y/n#f1 x female reader#f1 x you#max verstappen f1#max verstappen#mv1#mv1 x reader#mv1 x you#max verstappen drabble
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| luke castellan x fem! daughter of poseidon! reader
౨ৎ warnings ౨ৎ: none i think
౨ৎ summary ౨ৎ: luke and [reader] go on a secret date, only to be caught by annabeth, percy, and grover
౨ৎ PART 2 OUT NOW ౨ৎ
“I thought this place was secret..”
“where’re you going anyways at 10:00 am on a random tuesday??”
percy asked, giving a very confused look, mostly because, you’re never up at 10:00 am or ever putting this much effort into making sure your shirt looks good enough.
“percy, i’m not going anywhere. i just decided to.. put a little more effort in today i guess.”
you said with glowing cheeks, thinking of luke. percy doesn’t seem to convinced and was about to say something else, but you quickly beat him to it, to avoid other integrations.
“are you sure my shirt looks good?” “should i opt for the baggier jeans or keep these flared ones on?”
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it was a sunny day for camp half blood. perfect for a picnic or maybe even a secret date..
as you exited your cabin, ready to spend some much needed time with your favorite boy ever, you were stopped by annabeth. don’t get me wrong, you love annabeth. but right now, you wanted some alone time with luke.
“hey y/n! i wanted to ask if you could help me work on some new sparring skills? i was going to ask luke but i can’t seem to find him anywhere.” annabeth asked with a hopeful look in her eyes.
you hesitated in saying it, but you couldn’t ever turn down helping someone. “sure annie. why not” you said with a bit of a forced smile.
as she showed you the moves she’s been working on, you correct her on her form and where she would be exposed to the enemy. this goes on for about 20 minutes until grover walks by and starts talking to annabeth about something.
you use this opportunity to quietly slip away to finally see luke. all you wanted to do was kiss him and hug him and do everything affectionate with him because you felt like you haven’t seen him in forever (you haven’t seen him for like a day).
as you brush through the sharp pine needles and itchy bushes, you finally catch a glimpse of the boy you fell in love with when you were 14.
you see him laying down on a blanket, with his elbows propping him up. you sneak up behind him and put your hands over his eyes.
“guess who!” you say lightly laughing as he guesses stupid answers like “Chiron” or “Percy”.
as you remove your hands from his eyes he gets up and immediately kiss you all over your cheeks, nose, forehead, and finally your lips.
“hey, i’ve missed you so much.” luke says with love laced in his eyes.
“not as much as i’ve missed you.” “i have to tell you all about the morning i’ve had just to get here!” you exclaimed with a smile as you both sit down, hand in hand.
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some time has passed. about an hour or so. your head is on luke’s shoulder as he’s telling you all about how his week has been and how much he’s missed you (even though you two saw each other literally the day before).
in the middle of talking, you decided to just kiss him because well, you love him and this is one of the only times you got to spend time with him alone. as you’re both ahem.. making out, you hear footsteps, but you don’t think much of it.
until you hear a percy yelling “WHY ARE YOU MAKING OUT WITH MY HALF-SISTER?!?!!” as grover catches up with percy, panting. and annabeth removes her hat, “percy! you ruined our cover you seaweed brain.”
“well sorry that i’m freaked out that luke is making out with my sister!! we’re lucky we didn’t get here later..”
as both you and luke just sit there dumbfounded, you finally decide to speak up. “ok why are you all here??” percy replies back very sassily “oh missy that’s the least of your problems.”
you roll your eyes as one of the more mature ones respond (annabeth) “well after grover finished talking to me, i saw that you weren’t with me anymore and also judging how luke wasn’t where he usually is either, i got a little fishy. so i grabbed percy and grover and went off.”
percy is just glaring at luke. like staring daggers into him. luke is just sheepishly smiling as he lays his head on your shoulder kissing it. as you both hear percy lecturing you on how it’s not ok to sneak around and such, annabeth and grover just sit there laughing as you and luke just keep playfully rolling your eyes and being dramatic with your responses like “oh i’m so sorry percy! i won’t ever do this again!”
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as you walk back to your cabin, percy in the middle of you and luke, you’re thinking all about how much you’ve fallen for luke and how excited you are to build your future with him (oop).
and as all three of you walk toward the poseidon cabin, you mouth to luke “stay outside for a minute”. you and percy walk inside and you make up some excuse to go back out there.
you go back outside where luke still is and you hug him around his waist. “that date was fun.. until.. yknow” you said laughing.
he rests his chin on the top of your head, and laughs. “yea. i always love spending time with my sunshine.” he says as he kisses the top of your head and pulls away.
you smile and look at his left eye, his lips, then to his right eye (triangle method lol). you lean in and kiss his soft lips as his arms find their way to your waist and yours to his neck. as you both pull away, foreheads touching, luke whispers with a smile,
“my cabin. 10:30 pm. make sure percy’s asleep.” you lightly laugh and pull away going into your cabin. as luke is about to walk to his counselor duties, he sees percy in the window giving him the death glare. he flinches and he awkwardly smiles and walks backwards until percy walks away from the window.
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౨ৎ a/n ౨ৎ-(PT2??) first imagine done! i really hope u liked this one. pls request some!! i love writing for our fav evil boyfriend lol. and give me feedback! i’m new to this whole “imagines” thing haha <3 (btw idk how to put my requests thing on so just pm me with them🫶🏻🫶🏻)
-jules🎀
#lukecastellan#percy jackson and the olympians#pjo#percyjackson#percy jackson x reader#pjo x reader#pjoverse#pjo series#annabeth#grover#luke castellan x reader#x reader#percy jackson and the heroes of olympus#pjo tv show#charlie bushnell#siblings#protective brother#poseidon#luke castellan#child of hermes#hermes#child of poseidon
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hi! i just remembered a scene from friends where chandler says to monica it's ok she's high maintenance cause he likes maintaining her and i think this is soooo spencer and bombshell!reader coded. you're ok with writing this as a request? love u jadey
ty (ily)!! fem!reader
Spencer’s feet ache dully with each step he takes, but you have your hand in his, and you’re pulling him along with a smile. Your smile could cure anything, he thinks stupidly. It’s completely outside of his beliefs, goes against every book on medicine he’s ever read.
“Why are you frowning?” you ask, swinging his hand as you turn the corner together.
“I’m not.”
You step closer, arm stuck to his arm, nearly one body walking together against the summer breeze. “You’re frowning, Spence. You have a very obvious pout. It is so so cute.” You lean in to kiss him quickly, his heart turning to a pitter-patter under his ribs.
“I’m tired,” he explains, not wanting you to think his bad mood has anything to do with you.
“You’ve had a long day, that’s why. When we get back to your place I’ll give you an incredible foot massage and everything will be okay again.”
“I don’t want a foot massage. My feet don’t even hurt,” he lies.
“Don’t bother.” You untangle your fingers from his and wave him away. “I know all your tells, baby boy,” —he laughs through a wrinkled nose— “nothing gets past me.”
“Why’d you choose a dry cleaners so far from your apartment?” he asks. You could’ve picked the one beside work, which has a yellow pages worth of fantastic reviews. The one second closest to his place is new but raved about at length. This dry cleaners is nearly twenty-five blocks away.
“They do things exactly how I like it, I guess. I never have to worry about it when I give them my best clothes, and it’s kind of expensive if they were to accidentally ruin something, right?” You have expensive taste; you like things sturdy, fitted, and fashionable.
“Do you think I should get someone to do my laundry?” he asks.
“You can afford it. But maybe not. There’s nothing wrong with your own washing machine and a steamer.” You side eye him carefully. “Maybe I’m over the top.”
“You’re high maintenance,” he agrees. “Is it expensive, getting your clothes dry cleaned all the time? I could pay for that.”
“What? Why would you pay for it?”
“‘Cos we’re together?” He’s more worried than dry about it. “I’d like to pay for your manicures and your hair, too, but I didn’t think you’d let me.”
“And I won’t… s’kind of nice you want to though. Really nice, um.” You’re blinking funny. “I think that’s more of a husband thing. You really want to pay for me to get manicures?”
Spencer pays for lots of your stuff because he loves you. Good food mostly, but treats, clothes, anything he might think you’re interested in, actually. He likes to spoil you. You tend to spoil him back, if not with money then affection. “I like maintaining you.”
You curl your arm through his. “That’s a funny way to say it.”
He laughs at your obvious delight. “I like taking care of you,” he admits. “You like being high maintenance, it makes you happy, and I like making you happy.”
“Thank you very much,” you say, softer now as your hand works up his neck and you turn his face to you, the sidewalk and the streetlines melting away under your warm touch. “You make me happier than you know.”
His cheeks turn pink. He doesn’t need to see himself to confirm. It’s a high statistical probability.
“Kiss?” you ask, voice still soft.
Spencer walks you back nearer to the side of a building and out of the way, his hands at your neck and waist as he leans down just a touch to close your gap. He acts selfishly, perhaps, taking your hand from his face in order to hold yours in both of his without anything in the way of it. He kisses, he breathes you in, his head tilting more heavily to the side as the kiss lengthens, lingers. You’re like a flower in his hand, blooming slowly under the effects of a little heat.
“What if you pay for my dry cleaning,” you begin, a smile evident in your voice though Spencer keeps his eyes closed. Tracing the hill of your cheek with his fingers just a moment longer. “And I pay for yours?”
Spencer thumbs along your jaw. “I don’t want anything from you, just you.”
“Well, what if I treat us to some Indian takeout tonight?” you ask. “Would you eat that? Or am I enough to sustain you, my love?”
He could enjoy being taken care of in turn, he thinks.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
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Remember Me?
Pairing: ExNerd!Miguel O’Hara X AFAB!civillainreader
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Praise, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it), , Oral, Cowgirl, Missionary. You and Miguel make a mess...
Summary: Miguel has changed a lot since high school, but one thing remains the same...how he feels about you.
A/N: I have been trying to write about Miguel for weeks now! Every time I get close to finishing something for him I reread it and hate it! So I am posting this before I can change my mind! I hope you all enjoy I tried my best!
Word Count: 6,823
“Pfft…I can't believe this is real; this can’t be real!” Gwen keeps repeating to herself, trying to stifle back her laughter.
“I know! I couldn’t believe my eyes when Peter showed me but here it is!” Miles agrees; Pav quickly slings his arm around Miles for a better look.
“Take a look at the specks on him. Did you know he needed glasses?”
“Flip to the club photo. Now, that will shock you all.”
At Hobies request the teens quickly start flipping through pages. The sound of flipping pages and then the sudden bursting of laughter from the small huddle was something Miguel could no longer ignore. Miguel wasn’t sure why the teens and Peter were in his office. But since the events with the spot and some well-deserved apologies, Miguel, in the teen's words, “Chilled out,” and now they seem to hang out around him more. Meaning they are often now in his office… Miguel, of course, tried to appear as indifferent as possible to this change of pace, though He had to admit it was somewhat nice to have the cheerful ambiance that came with them... Hell, sometimes they could make him chuckle; Miles was actually pretty funny. But, of course, he keeps these things to himself.
Miguel makes his way to the huddle to see what could possibly be so enthralling. When he sees what's causing their uproar, his blood runs cold, freezing him dead in his tracks.
Is….that…his….yearbook…
It was turned to his picture and plan as the day under his unrecognizable photo was his name. So there was no getting out of this saying it wasn’t him…
“Miguel, is this really you?” Miles questions pointing to the picture.
“Must be his name right there,” Pav teases, making Miguel groan. This was an actual nightmare.
Looking over them, Miguel sees the picture they are all questioning; the difference is pretty night and day. A young 17-year-old Miguel was way scrawnier compared to his now bulking physique. His dark brown eyes were hidden behind his thick black-rimmed glasses, the only ones his mother could afford at the time. Miguel's thick, wavy brown hair looks untamed as it hangs down his forehead, threatening to cover his eyes if not for his glasses, the rest hanging loosely down to the nape of his neck. Poor kid was desperate for a haircut. Their cheekbones and jaw were still chiseled, and his face was not yet littered with lines of stress, sleepless nights, and age.
Hobie quickly grabs the yearbook, vigorously flipping through the pages until he stops on a picture of a young Miguel holding up a mathlete trophy, awkward smile and all. “This is my favorite picture. Do you still smile like that, bruv?”
“How did you all get this?” Miguel asks in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that will somehow stop his building anger and embarrassment.
Very aware of the sight of Miguel about to rage out, the young spiders quickly part, pointing the blame to a laughing Peter. Who finally quits his laughing fit as now he is staring into the eyes of a very irritated Miguel, waiting for an explanation.
Peter nervously clears his throat before speaking, “Wel, uh…do you remember a couple of days ago when you told me to drop off that equipment at your apartment? Well…I happened to see this on your living room bookshelf and thought I would look at it. Then I saw how much you had changed… I figured the kiddos would get a kick out of it…”
Miguel's eyes narrow, and his talons pop out, ready to bounce, but that is quickly escalated by Gwen taking back the yearbook, prepared to negotiate peace.
“Okay, okay, no need to rip his head off; we will return your book.” Miguel's body relaxes as he sighs of relief, holding out his hand for the book, but Gwen smirks, holding the book back out of his reach, “But, you have to show us your old crush first.”
Miguel’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, freezing at the terms of the agreement, and everyone else, including Layla, starts oohing. Making Miguel pitch the bridge of his nose again, muttering under his breath, “Esto tiene que ser una pesadilla…” (this has to be a nightmare…)
Then, to make things worse, they start chanting, “Show us….Show us…Show us! Show us!!”
The chatting became too much, and he snapped, holding out his hand irritatedly for the book. “Fine! I will show you; just shut up!”
A yay fills the room as Miguel starts irritatedly flipping through the book as soon as it’s laid in his hand. Everyone waits in bated breath until finally landing on the correct page. It's the page he spent the summer before college staring at, the picture he had agonized over. Miguel pauses, taking in the picture, and he feels those familiar feelings rushing up and swelling in his chest…Those high school crushes do hit you hard…
Even after all these years, he still remembers you so vividly; seeing the picture always solidifies for himself as confirmation as to why he had liked you so much. Beautiful and popular, everyone would only have positive things to say, even if your friend group wasn’t as nice. Miguel remembers that sweetness fondly. Though, behind that sweet smile, there was a mischievous side of you; he recalls hearing it hidden in your cooing voice when you would say that pet name during chemistry class…
“Miggy~”
The memory warms Miguel's cheeks, but he quickly dismisses the feeling. “There, that's her.”
The teens quickly grab the book back, climbing over each other to marvel at the picture of the girl the oh-so-scary Spider-Man 2099 had a crush on when he was their age.
“Wow, she's stunning!” Gwen complements
Miguel hums in agreement, “Yeah… the prettiest girl in my grade…prom queen, part of the student council, incredibly sweet…, and we took chemistry together…”
Pav and Hobie shoot Miguel a smirk, and he quickly huffs, folding his arms over his chest.
“Ever work up the nerve to confess?” Pav questions, ever the romantic.
The group watches as Miguel closes his eyes, thinking that the blush from earlier is slowly rising to his tan cheeks, making them all gasp in excitement.
“You did!” They all scream, but Miguel is quick to correct them.
“Well…technically…I didn’t”
“What do you mean technically?” Miles prys
Miguel can’t believe he admitted this much, but since he's already down the rabbit hole, he might as well give some more context: “At graduation…I kinda did, then I…ran away…”
A look of shock and confusion fills the teenager's face, but Peter is all grins and is going to give Miguel a high five: “Ah, the mysterious type. Nice.”
Gwen quickly swats him on the shoulder, earning a whine from the man.
“Not nice! That is so confusing! You just ran? Did you ever talk to her again?”
Miguel takes a second to avoid eye contact, stoically starting to the side, before letting out a quiet, “No…”
There is a collective groan, and Miguel rolls his eyes, trying to contain his high school embarrassment.
“Can we stop talking about this and return to work now?”
“Have you seen her since?” Miles questions,
“No,” Miguel answers sharply, irritation coming back up.
“Wha-what! How will you ever win her love if you don’t clear up the misunderstanding and confess your true feelings!” Pav laments, making everyone look at him with a raised brow.
“Pav, mate…you know how long it's been since he's seen her?” Hobie chides
Pav shrugs slightly, muttering, “Maybe it could be like a romantic thing…”
“So wait, You have all the resources and never thought to at least search her out? Aren't you curious?” Gwen prods
“No, I never thought about stalking my old crush. Now, can we please-”
“She lives in the city!” Miles' voice calls out, making Miguel whip around.
Miles and Layla stand on Miguel's platform with your picture, info, and social media pulled up on his halo screens. Everyone is quick to web over, including Miguel. Miguel quickly pushes away a beaming Miles as he takes in all your information. He sees where you went to college, where you work, and…
“Ooohhh! She's still single!” Pav beams, looking at Miguel expectancy.
Miguel rolls his eyes as he keeps looking at you, still as perfect as he remembered. Somehow, you seem more confident in yourself, you seem…sexier…
Feelings start rising back to Miguel's chest. He hasn’t seen you in so long, and even your pictures still stir something within him.
“Wow! This is awesome!” Miles beams, pointing to one of the screens
Miguel, being too lost in your pictures, hasn’t realized what the teens are yammering about until they all start shaking him back and forth in excitement. Then he finally hears it.
“You can see her at your High School reunion! It's coming up in a couple of weeks!”
Miguel turns his head to the invitation Layla had pulled up. “You got this a month ago but didn’t think you would be interested…. It looks like you will be attending now, though!”
Before he can protest, she is RSVPing, and all the teens are hollering in laughter and giving high-fives. Everything is happening so fast that all Miguel can do is stand there in something akin to a trance. That's until Pav comes up to him with a giddy smile,
“It’s like density!”
Miguel groans…he wants everyone to get back to work…
They really got him here….How the hell did he let them convince him to come here? They even managed to get him to dress up…
Hair in its usually slick back style, slate gray button down that did little to hide his bulk, and black trousers that he thought appeared too tight but Layla had insisted upon.
Miguel stands uncomfortably off to the side as people he used to know all gather together, chit-chatting about their lives and reminiscing on the good old days… All while Miguel stays sulking in the corner…Maybe things from high school haven’t changed that much. Well, despite the whole genetic splicing that made him a superhero… Instead of still being the captain of the Mathletes team, he's now the CEO of Aleamax. However, one thing remains the same: When he is in a room filled with all these people from school, his eyes still roam around, trying to find you…
High school had not been kind to a nerd like him. He was 9 inches shorter, and the most important things to him were keeping all A’s, getting into his dream college, keeping up with his favorite comic series, avoiding bullying, and wanting so badly to kiss his crush.
Miguel vividly recalls all those times in chemistry when you two worked so closely together. Miguel shyly mutters the mixing process while you lean in with stars in your eyes, taking it all in. Miguel never knew if you were interested in what he was saying or if you were trying to get a good grade, but he didn’t care. You still made his cheeks flush and heart race all the same.
“Then…When-when you add fluid B to A, you will get a fizzing reaction…”
A shaking Younger Miguel tries to steadily pour in the fluids while you watch, leaning in so close he could smell your sweet perfume and look at your glittery glossed lips.
“Wow! Miggy, you’re so smart.” Your voice would be like sweet honey praising him, and the mere closeness of you to him would make his body feel like it was going to melt.
“I keep telling my friends I have the best lab partner…” Miguel feels his throat dry as your hand slowly curls over his forearm. Then the bell rings, and Miguel is flustered, packing his things as you smile sweetly and wave goodbye.
God, you must have been just messing with him, toying with him, knowing he was like a love-sick puppy for you. The worst part, if this was the case, he would have let you…Miguel would have let you toy and bat away at his heart until you felt content with it fully unraveling to you. Pathic…is that what you thought? Well, if it wasn’t what you thought of him before, it must be what you thought after his pitiful confession…
Miguel thinks back to that night when he last saw you…that all too familiar warmth threatens to take him over, so as he stares down at his drink, he slips back to that moment…
The ceremony had ended, everyone had exited the stadium, and Miguel was taking a second to calm himself in the dark hallway. High school was over, and his life was beginning. He was thinking back on all his decisions for this new chapter. Miguel fidgets with his graduation cap and feels about what awaits him. Then he thinks about the things he missed out on…
Then your face comes to mind…he had vowed to confess; even if you laughed and rejected him, he wanted to get his feelings off his chest. But when it came down to it, he let his shyness get the better of him and let you slip through his fingers without telling you. This was high school? He was sure to like other girls…but why was this eating away at him so much? Why did he feel so sick to his stomach for not doing this…
The sound of clicking heels fills the corridor, and like fate, you are walking through the hallway back toward him. Miguel adjusts his glasses, unsure if this is some kind of halustion brought on by self-pity, but no… it was you…
As soon as your eyes locked to his, your lips curled to that all too familiar smile, the one that was so sweet. Then your voice rang that teasing nickname you graciously bestowed upon him.
“Miggy, what are you doing, silly? Hanging out in the dark…Don’t you want to go celebrate?”
“Oh…... I didn’t plan to go to any parties… just going to go home and get started on some summer reading…”
The smile that curled on your lips was additive as you stepped closer to his slouching form, “hm…Miggy…always so prepared… I’m going to miss seeing you around so much. I’m sure you're the only reason I passed chem!”
“No…I am sure you will have more interesting people to talk to than a nerd like me…”
“Maybe I like talking to nerds like you.”
The statement made Miguel look up to see you so close to him mischive filling your eyes. Leaning in so close to him, he feels like he can’t breathe when he looks at you so close like this…
“You don’t mean that…” he chuckles softly.
Then your index finger lifts his chin, and you look at him with sweet eyes, but your tone is stern, “Don’t tell me what I mean…”
Miguel feels his heartbeat quicken, and his palms begin to sweat. Before he can return to rational thought, he leans into you.
He so gently cups your cheek with his nervous hands. Brushing his nose against yours, his shaky breath fanning over your sparkly glossed lips. Then, when your lips finally meet, he isn’t sure who fills the gap.
The kiss was so sweet, and he held you so gently, but he knew you could feel the shaking of his hands and the heat rushing to his face. Everything around you two seemed to fade.
Eyes shut tightly from falling into the depths of the kiss, he pulls away to breathe. Peeking open his eyes, Miguels sees you are breathless, and your face is burning with a deep blush. You look so surprised... and he doesn't know what to say or how to explain.
“I’m sorry…I just had to do that once…”
Then he ran off… leaving you alone in that dark hallway, scared of what you would say next…
“Miggy!”
“Miggy!”
“Miguel?”
Lost in his thoughts, Miguel failed to notice that one of his ex-classmates had been trying to get his attention. One of them must have finally recognized him. Looking up from his cup, Miguel expects to see one of his old mathlete teammates, but as he finally meets their eyes, he feels his heart stop at the sight.
Looking up at him with that same sweet smile, you look just like he remembers: completely radiant. Your pictures showed you were still beautiful, but in person, you are the thing he remembers most about you: breathtaking.
“Miguel, that's gotta be you… Do you remember me?” -How could he not remember you?
Miguel feels himself staring at his thoughts, running everywhere; what does he say? What does he do?
“I…I, of course, remember m-my lab partner.” -Okay, a little shaky…But with your face seeming to light up when he says he remembers and your eyes roaming over him, he can’t chastise himself too much for stuttering now. Miguel feels his hands starting to become clammy, and his stomach feels full of butterflies…shit…this feels like high school all over again.
“I can not believe how different you look!”
“Yeah, late growth spurt and I uh… I started going…to the gym a lot….You though! You still look so beati- uh nice…good you look outstanding…” His mind is running a mile a minute, and he can’t believe how he is acting right now! He's Spider-Man, and he’s acting so nervous?
Smirking, you look as if you could read his mind about how nervous he is, though to anyone with working eyes, it was obvious.
“You think I look good?” you ask, playful, making Miguel's eyes take in just how tight your dress is. “I was hoping for beautiful…” you smile, giving him a wink. His blood rushes in his veins, and he swallows his suddenly dry throat.
You could eat him alive…and he would let you…
“Beautiful then, you - uh… you have always looked beautiful…”
“Thank you, Miguel, you look very handsome.” Miguel feels his heart racing as you step closer. Your eyes stay on his confident smile on your glossy lips. It teeters on cocky, and Miguel can’t bring himself to hate it…he loves it…
“Though Miguel, I do have to say…I miss the glasses; they were really cute.”
“I still have some that I wear sometimes,” he says a bit too eagerly.
Your smirk widens, “Really? Does your girlfriend like them?”
“Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend.”
The smirk on your lips borders on sinful “Good…” You purr
Miguel feels a wave of electricity shakes through him. Are you flirting? Miguel can’t help the smile and blush that's now reached to the tips of his ears. Miguel came here thinking that you wouldn’t be here, and if you were, you would be avoiding him, but he didn’t expect this. Do you even remember it? Well, of course, you would! Who forgets getting kissed, and then the person runs? He needs to apologize before he never sees you again.
“So Umm…I am glad I got to see you, well other than it’s just nice seeing you…but I want to apologize…”
“You’re talking about graduation.” Your cheerful voice cuts him off and utterly confuses him. Furrowing his brow, he’s lost and hoping you can explain.
“Miguel, I like the kiss…I wish you wouldn’t have run away…”
Miguel is sure he’s died, and there is no possible way you're saying this to him. Sweet, perfect you, like when he kissed you. Nerdy awkward him? Gently, Miguel feels your hands touching his chest, slowly dancing your fingertips over his muscles. Miguel hopes you can’t feel the way his heartbeat is racing right now.
“You know, now that I really think about it…you owe me an apology or something. It was very rude of you to kiss me suddenly and then run away like that, teasing me. Then, when I went to reach out to you, you didn't have any socials. That's not very nice to do, you know…”
Your hand slightly grazes his jaw, and he feels like he could melt. Rising to your tiptoes, you try to whisper in his ear as you lean into his chest, your chest rubbing against him. Miguel can feel himself starting to break a sweat.
“I thought you were sweet…”
Miguel feels you start to pull away, and in a moment of bravery or desperation, he carefully places his hands on your waist. Leaning down, he whispers back to you.
“Could I make it up to you somehow?”
“I have an idea…if you're up for it?”
Gathering his confidence, when he sees your smile, he squeezes your sides slightly, “Anything you want.”
Without any hesitation, you grab his large hand from your waist and pull him along with you to slip out of the reception room into a dark hallway. The irony is not lost on either of you as you grin and pull each other close. Your lips are so close to his as you lean into his chest.
“You're not going to run away this time. I want you to do this properly this time…”
Part of Miguel feels like he could be dreaming; your arms are wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair, smiling at him so sweetly. Your eyes are one of pure hunger, and your voice is so transparent with your want. It’s perfect.
Miguel brushes his thumb over your tempting lips, slightly dragging the bottom down while he tries to archer himself back to reality. Moving his hand to your neck as he leans in and kisses you. Your lips are soft and perfectly guiding against his. Miguel's hands fall to your hips; he digs his fingers into the plush of your skin, making you gasp into his mouth with a moan. It’s been a long time since he’s kissed you, and he wants to make sure you know how much he wants you… trying his hardest to impress you.
The fingers in his hair tighten to a fist as you guide him to part his plush lips, then slip in your tongue to get a taste of him. It’s gentle at first but quickly heats up from your eager influence. Then you start straddling his thick thighs, grinding slightly against him. Both your bodies feel like you’ve been set on fire in a blazing flame of want.
“Miggy, I always like you…just-”
Before you can finish your words, Miguel drives his tongue back into your mouth, eager to taste those words he had always wanted to hear. His hands cup your ass as he drives his knee deeper between your legs, letting you use him more. Breaking the kiss, you let out the most perfect moans as your body tingles and shivers. Miguel hasn’t had enough of you yet as he keeps his mouth kissing against your flushed skin. His tongue rolls over your rapid pulse as you keep grinding and mewing for more.
“Fuck, miggy~”
Miguel licks a long strip up your neck before grunting in your ear, “I… I only came here… to see you…t-talk to you…”
His rough words make you grind against him more, and right as Miguel starts to feel your slick soaking through his pants, you pull his hair, successfully pulling a whimper from him, which is quickly cut off by your soft lips to his again. Then, as you pull away, you bite his bottom lip, which makes him shiver.
“Can…can I take you home…” Miguel asks breathlessly, his hands still squeezing your ass.
A small giggle leaves your kiss-bitten lips as you take a second to fix his now-disheveled hair, thanks to you.
“Take me to your place, Miggy; you still owe me…”
Miguel feels a rush of excitement run through him, making his length throb at your words. You really are going to eat him alive…
It's the perfect sight he’s only ever dreamed of seeing, you sitting on his large bed completely naked, a sweet smile on your face, soft legs crossed over each other, waiting patiently for him. Miguel adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose…you had insisted, and he’s finding he can’t deny you…
Miguel slips off his underwear, kicking them away. Your eyes widen as you see his massive length slap against his abdomen, then hanging heavily. Your eyes rake over his immaculate form; the sight of you licking your licks isn’t lost on him.
“Strip for me, Miggy,” you taunted as you dropped your dress with little effort, waiting for him to follow. Of course, he did. He would follow anything your sweet voice commands. Just please…let him touch you…
Running his hand through his hair, Miguel approaches you, but your sweet voice turns to him in disapproval, and he pauses.
“No walking, I want you to crawl on your hands and knees…please? Miggy~”
Every time you use that old nickname, he feels his cock twitch. Keeping his now blazing eyes on you as he slowly sinks to his knees and begins to crawl to you obediently. The action is meant to make him look submissive, but you find that even now, he looks like a predator getting ready to devour its prey… The shiver that shoots down your spine goes right to your sex, making you drip down on his sheets.
As Miguel crawls closer, you unfold your legs, stretching one out slowly toward him. His large hand immediately catches your ankle. Hungry eyes look up at you, blazing with want, as his hand slowly creases up your leg. Miguel's lips kiss softly against your calf while he whispers faint words under his breath after every kiss. His eyes watch you as he slowly raises your legs, the back of your thighs being pressed against his broad shoulders.
Miguel's hands grab your hips, making you slip a moan. His eyes turn softer as he hears you moan, his lips coming away from the fresh mark he's left on your inner thigh. Miguel's lips part to apologize, but you're quick to interrupt before he can.
Leaning forward, you push his glasses back into their proper place and crease his cheek. “You're doing so well for me, Miguel…though…It does feel like you're trying to make me beg… Are you trying to tease me?”
Miguel's lips curl into a smile as he lowers his face to lick his tongue against your clit. You throw your head back at the hot contact, Miguel groaning at the sweet taste of your cyprine.
“I wouldn’t dream of teasing you…” Miguel's lips lower down to your clit before he gives it a quick lick.
Unable to help yourself, you grab a fist full of his hair, making him let out a soft groan, “Then devore me, Miggy; you still owe me, remember? And I-Ah!~”
Before you can finish your taunting, Miguel is driving his face into your wet sex to selfishly devore more of you. Long slow licks of his warm tongue send waves of pleasure to flood your body as your toes curl from every push of his nose to your clit.
His breaths for air huffing against your quivering sex, the tip of his tongue darting back to lick against your soft folds, making you whine. Looking down at him, his glasses crooked and hazy and his groans continue to vibrate through your pussy. Then the sensation of his tongue probing you open makes you close your thighs against his head and grab this thick hair, pulling hard enough for a grunt to slip through his chest. Getting the message, Miguel moves his tongue to lick your sensitive clit as his finger slips into you. Your grip on his hair gets tighter as you squirm, grinding your hips against his face, mouth hanging open as your chest heaves moan after moan. Your body starts shaking at the addition of another finger, making you feel jolts of pleasure that make you need to roll your hips onto his face more.
Miguel could carless at the apparent use of his face for your pleasure; it's all he craves right now, your cum to dip all over his eager tongue. For your hips grind onto his face for hours. He would stay on his knees worshiping you like this until you're calling out from too much pleasure, and even then, he doesn’t know how he could pull himself away from your delicious taste.
You feel him groan into you, the vibrations rushing through you to cause you to gasp and shiver as his tongue keeps sliding in and out of you, desperate for your sweetness. You want more, need more, you crave it with every roll of your hips; you want him in you deeply. Unclenching your thighs from his head, you pull his hair, forcing his face from you with a wet pop.
Miguel's eyes are blown as he keeps them steady on yours, his full lips parted and panting. The sight of his face glistening with a mix of his saliva and your arousal is sinful and complete perfection. His poor glasses are resting on his face, still lopsided from his ravenous pursuit to taste your cunt. Leaving forward, you keep a smile as you hold his cheek; he immediately melts into it. Grabbing his glasses from his head, you toss them to his nightstand; before he can say anything to you, you're leaning forward to bring him into a kiss. His lips and tongue are laced with you, and you can’t help but want to giggle as he groans and leans his whole body onto you, so needy for more.
With a gentle push to his massive chest, you can change the positions as you now straddle his hips effortlessly. You are slowly running your hands up and down his chest and abdomen, feeling his hair decorating his skin, making your mouth water. As you shift yourself up, you feel his swollen length hanging heavily as you nudge against it. The tip is hot and already pebbling with glistening pre-cum, straining for you to envelope around him. Reaching down, you flick your eyes from his eyes to his length.
Miguel sure has changed over the years, but his face is so breathless and furrowing with every strained pleasure as you slide your thumb over his cocks slit. Whining so softly, sounding like the sweet nerd you remember. On the other hand, Miguel is witnessing you in a way only his mind had fantasized about. Your smile is no longer so sweet but devious; He wants to push his cock into you so deeply and have you shudder and scream while you gush all over him, But this teasing and taunting… it's mouth-watering.
Touching his length, you feel the sheer heat of it as you carefully trace over the soft skin, feeling every vein. Tracing over the red weeping tip, you feel him shudder and mumble something under his breath as you grasp him to hold against you, seeing that he measures to your stomach. You can't help but bite your lip in anticipation of the stretch.
Your eyes flick back to Miguels, “Think it will fit?” you tease.
“I will make it fit…” his rough voice sends a shiver down your spine.
Lifting to your knees, you line up his tip to brush on your clit, making you gasp as you slip him through your folds. Then finally, you slip him in slowly, feeling his cock stretch your fluttering hole; the stretch is intense and makes you roll your eyes as your back arches. Miguel grabs your ass tightly, bucking his hips to sink in a bit faster; he pants a sorry as you let out a moan and squeeze your hands on his chest for support. Looking down at his beautifully blushing face, you only smile as you sink deeper.
“So eager, Miggy~”
All Miguel can manage is a smile as he works hard to keep himself from bottoming out immediately. He so badly just wants to shove it in deeply and rut into you like a damn animal. A groan builds in his throat as he tries to keep himself from whimpering as you continue to sink so slowly. His cock throbbing and stretching your walls as it heats your insides. Before he can manage a whine, you sink all the way down, taking every inch; before either of you can moan, you lean down to catch his lips in a needy kiss, taking control you guide him, your tongue pushes past his lips to taste his groans. While his tongue eagerly does the same. Pulling away from the kiss, you grind against him, relishing in the feeling of his cock pushing in deeper and his trimmed hairs tickling your sensitive skin; you can’t help but bite his bottom lip to compensate for the mind-numbing feeling.
Miguel's hands squeeze harder, making you release his lip as your cunt to clenchs on him, the moan of his name dropping from your lips as your hips start to grind on him at a slow pace. Using your hands, you slightly push yourself up and rock your hips back and forth, letting his cock slide to bully your gummy insides, brushing your cervix with every nudge. Miguels is mesmerized as he roams his hands over your body, worshiping every inch of your skin with his careful fingertips brushing and rubbing you so tenderly. His hands come to your breast, where he takes a minute to squeeze and pinch your nipples, your whimper in response, and grind harder against his cock, pushing him to rub harder against your cervix.
“You look s-so fucking beautiful…your body, your…tatse…I’ve never stopped thi-thinking of you…” Miguel mutters through pants of hot breaths.
The words spur you on, and you start to pick up your pace, making him moan out and guide your hips to rock back and forth faster, “Always so sweet…” you coo to him…the words are less taunting but just true; he has always been sweet to you…
“Only for you…” he muses, and you can’t help but smile,
“Good…”
You feel yourself starting to sip from having a clear head that's now blurring in a haze of lust as you continue to pursue your pleasure on his girth. Pushing in and out on him quicker. Your hands grab onto him tighter as you ravish your tight pussy with his throbbing cock. Begging for both his and your release. Fucking so deep in you, now your jaw falls slack as his cock keeps pushing against your velvety sweet spot, making jolts of pleasure pulse through your body with every bounce.
The sweat that has built on your bodies works hard to try and cool your fevered states, but with every push into your cunt and with every clench around his length rousing him to go deeper makes it all in vain. There is no cooling as you two approach your white hot release, bodies only growing more hot and sensitive with every whine and every mind-numbing push. So close to tipping the other to ecstasy…
With a couple of aided thrust from Miguel fucking up into you, your muscles tenase and your mouth falls open in a pitched scream of his name as your danm burst making you clench and shudder on his cock, coming undone on top of him. You're quivering on his length as he carefully grinds you through your drenching pleasure, the feeling of his cock slipping deeper as you eagerly ride him through your high.
With the way you clench so tightly and grind faster, Miguel couldn't help but feel himself throb and spurt right into your cervix. The feeling of it spurting so thickly, his cock pulsing inside of you, feeling so heavy in you with each twitch. This cum is hot and fills you so that it's leaking down mixing with your arousal, creating a sticky mess. You can't help yourself when you side on more and more feeling your cunt want to stick to his skin.
Haze starting to clear you fall forward on him, you try to catch your breath in between placing frantic kisses to Miguel's chest and neck. Your orgasm leaves you utterly satisfied, but Miguels is not done…
With a quick turning over your body, you're lying on your back now as Miguel situates himself between your legs. He takes time to look over your flushed form, his massive hands dragging over your sensitive body, and you shiver and buck your hips up. Miguel takes your legs, pushing them up to your chest, making your mew from his touch, your pussy completely exposed to him. Miguel feels his breath catch as his cum leaks out of your trembling puffy cunt in milky drops. Miguel releases one of your legs to fall to his shoulder so he can plam his cock, still erect and ready for more. His red eyes flick back to your blisted-out face, and though you're at the point of overstimulation, you still ache for more.
“M-Miggy…” you're the one to tremble shyly for him now, and the switch of the roles makes him fold. He’s helpless for you…
Leaning down carefully, Miguel cages you between his massive arms as he places a gentle, sweet kiss on your begging lips. Breaking the kiss, he whispers in your ear so softly, “More? Can you give me more? Perfect girl…let me feel you again…please…”
Wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his damp skin, you buck your hips up in your whine of, “More, Please, Miggy ah—I need more of you, always. You are so good to me.”
He catches your hips in a quick grip as he lifts them up, smiling; it's everything he has ever wanted to hear from your sweet lips. And he is always eager to satisfy you.
Miguel slips his cock into you with a groan; you're already so sensitive as he pushes down to the base, filling you so quickly that your body already starts quivering around him. Pressing soft kisses to your sweaty skin, he rolls his hips slow and deep. He is taking his time with you. Every thrust is hot and tingling, and you feel that familiar tense starting to build up again from the consistent pace he's set. Managing to open your eyes through moans and rolls, you see Miguel with beautifully flushed cheeks, eyes filled with want as he softly pants and whimpers with each clench of your wet cunt.
As his pace quickens, you feel him throb, giving you new resolve to meet your hips with each thrust, and your core starts to burn deliciously. Your nails find their place, digging into his broad back. Every slap of his balls to your overly sensitive skin makes you moan and throw your head back. Miguel takes the opportunity to kiss and lick against your neck, his hot breath rushing over you. With a final clench and strained moan, you feel that white-hot wave of pleasure burn through you; his body shudders at the feeling of your cunt, so desperate to cum against him to milk him dry again. His groan borders on a whine as his hips are still, and you feel that familiar throbbing against your cervix as his thick cum fills you up. Looking up at him, you watch his face contort to be in complete pleasure; the sight of it is completely addicting.
Staying in you till you are both down from your highs, he slowly pulls out his softening cock. The pooling of both of your cum completely ruins the sheets underneath you, but Miguel doesn’t worry about that. He brushes stray hairs from your face and whispers he will be right back. You're too exhausted to move, and you can only twitch slightly as you feel a cool cloth cleaning you up so gently.
After cleaning you up, you feel the bed sink beside you and the feeling of an arm around you, bringing you closer to his warm body, his other hand brushing through your hair so carefully. You gather your energy to curl into Miguel with a broad smile. You two lay there, slowly drifting away in each other's comfort.
Clearing his throat, Miguel tries to be as unawkward as possible, and it only manages to make you smile more; you two just had amazing sex, and he’s still nervous; some things die hard, you guess. Looking up at him, you see he’s trying to gather up the best way to approach his next words; this night has been everything he hoped, and he doesn’t want to blow it now, but he needs to know the answer to his question,
“Can-can I…take you out on a date?”
His face is completely sincere and flushed; you have to bite back your giggle before you answer.
“Miggy, about time you asked…”
You two set the date up for the next night; Miguel, of course, wore his glasses…
#across the spiderverse#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara#spiderman 2099#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x fem!reader#miguel 2099#miguel smut#miguel ohara smut#miguel x reader#miguel spiderverse#miguel fanfic#miguel ohara#miguel o hara#miguel spiderman#atsv smut#miguel atsv#atsv#atsv fanfiction#spiderman atsv#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel ohara x reader#miguel x you#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x afab!reader#spiderman across the verse
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— 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞.
✦ in need of a kiss? well, feel free to pick an experience from our finest collection! perhaps you’ll find one suited perfectly to your tastes?
(or, in other words, the types of kisses they give, and what it’s like to kiss them.)
✦ featuring: aventurine, dr. ratio, jing yuan.
✦ warnings: very kiss focused, not proofread.
✦ notes: these characters with this concept were particularly inspiring today, so i jotted down a little something really quick (might add more characters later in a pt. 2 later? idk)
also forgive me for any characterization errors please i'm still studying them
aventurine.
his kisses are greedy.
he’s greedy, far too greedy, and selfish to boot— he wants everything you have to give, all for himself. he tastes like a burst of citrus on your tongue, always, always keeping you on your toes, his lips sneakily capturing everything they can, right down to the slightest sound that leaves your lips.
he wants as much of you as he can possibly get, and he’s perfectly capable of drawing it all out from you, bit by bit. he just needs the right bargaining chip, and he has it already, doesn’t he?
a kiss, for a kiss.
a fair trade, wouldn’t you say?
(he doesn’t make deals that don’t pay off, after all. and this thing he’s doing with you? well, it sure is raking in the profits.)
veritas ratio.
dr. ratio doesn’t do things in half measures. when he kisses you, it’s all or nothing; he will put his all into it.
he doesn’t confine himself to your lips, either. the philosophy is simple: what kind of learning would one hope to achieve by limiting themselves?
his hands travel all over, learning the wheres, the whens and the hows, almost as if he’s trying to see how you tick, while his lips embark on a journey of their own across the skin of your face, your jaw and your neck.
he kisses with diligence and precision and passion, meticulous and methodical, quickly adapting his methods to even the slightest of hints you send his way. every action he does is intentional and deliberate, so why should this be any different?
oh, but make no mistake, for all his versatility and straightforwardness, he will not make it easy for you to keep up with him.
but you can take a challenge, can’t you?
jing yuan.
he is gentle, he is soft, he is slow— he kisses in the way that honey flows; lazy, languid, almost hypnotizing, like he has all the time in the world. he savors you the same way he savors the tea that lends his lips the subtle bitterness they carry, but they taste sweet all the same.
when he pulls away, a smile graces his face, one that lights up his eyes with adoration. soft as they are, they still command your undivided attention with the way you cannot seem to tear your gaze away from him. his hands still remain on your person though, holding you impossibly close.
and when he tenderly cradles your face in his palms, worries evaporate into air, thoughts slip away to spaces unknown, and moments stretch into lifetimes.
#—🖋#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#aventurine x reader#aventurine x you#dr. ratio x reader#dr. ratio x you#dr ratio x reader#veritas ratio x reader#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan x you
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I Don't Share - Jeon Jungkook
Synopsis: Jungkook was the one that proposed you should be friends with benefits. You both were single and had desires. Falling in love wasn't a part of the plan though.
Pairing: Idol!Jeon Jungkook x Back up Dancer!fem reader
Genre: Smuttttt! Jealous, posessive Jungkook, friends with benefits - Minors DNI
Contains: public sex, mentions of eating out (f. receiving), light spanking (f. receiving), no protection vaginal sex, slight degradation, creampie, hair pulling
Word Count: 2.6k
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You were given the opportunity of a lifetime. What started as a way to kill time during the pandemic quickly turned into you flying to South Korea to join BTS in their rehearsals for their Permission To Dance shows. A little over a year later, you were in rehearsals again for Jungkook's solo promotions with the release of his debut album, Golden. You didn't think your life could get better than this.
Never before would you think that your dance studio closing to meet shutdown requirements would grant you the opportunity of a lifetime. Or that you would meet the guy of your dreams.
Jungkook was around your age, so it was easy for you two to get along. You often would spend late nights going over and over the dance routine for performances and the filming of upcoming music videos. His manager would often ask if he wanted a ride home, but Jungkook would always come up with an excuse.
"No, I'm ok. I want to make sure my hyungs are proud of me when they can finally see this!" Which often made the staff smile that he wanted to make his members proud.
Another one often was along the lines of - "No, thank you though. I am just stuck on this one part of the choreography and I think I'm finally getting it down. I will call security to make sure I get home." He promised every single time to use the resources at the company, but he never did.
He always opted to take Uber rides with you. At first, it was because Jungkook liked being able to talk to someone around his age. He had a solid group of friends, but you were new. Coming from the United States, he wanted to know what it was like to be a 20-something-year-old making it work.
The two of you often shared after practices drinks and meals. "You know, we have to nourish our bodies well. Jin-hyung taught me that well."
Quickly though, his hunger turned into something else. Getting to know you, getting to watch how your hips moved with ease, he began to grow hungry for your pussy. Jungkook was a very competitive guy, and he was determined to be the best at fucking you until you see the stars. He wanted to make you cum and scream until you forgot your name, until you questioned your ability to walk after.
Meals quickly turned into eating you out at your apartment. To be fair, it was his favorite meal of the day. He loved getting down on his knees for you, spreading them wide, and exposing you to him. Only or him. He often liked to blow cool air on your pussy to watch you squirm underneath his touch.
Jungkook thrived on knowing the reaction he could pull out of you. He liked knowing you whimpered and begged for him to lick your pussy, to suck on your clit as if his life depended on it. And if you begged well, he would reward you by sliding two of his fingers into your pussy.
Dance practices weren't the only reason why he would come over. If a recording session didn't go well, you offered comfort by letting him bend you and pound into your pussy. Afterwards, you would always talk about how he was feeling but you quickly learned that Jungkook preferred letting his frustrations out physically rather than verbally at first.
There were just a few more performances left for the group. Everyone knew that Jungkook would be enlisting soon, so nobody was taking it for granted. Every dance, every member of the crew, and Jungkook himself were basically putting their all into every dance practice, dress rehearsal, and performance.
You were currently sitting criss-cross on the dance practice floor, your water bottle resting in your lap. Your thumb moved your TikTok FYP up every once in a while. There was a 30 minute break, allowing some people to go grab lunch while others were taking a minute to just relax.
"So, y/n, did you know someone here in Korea before you moved?"
There was often conversation floating among the dancers. Down time and hanging outside of practice were opportunities to get to know one another, and do a little networking. With the days narrowing down on this contract, you were beginning to consider your options. Part of you wanted to go back home, to reunite with family, but you also were having the time of your life here.
Hearing your name, you locked your phone and set it on the floor. There were a few others who joined you on the floor, in their own worlds until the current conversation started. You felt all eyes on you as the question was directed to you.
"No, I actually didn't," You laughed. A year ago, you never would have had the courage to move across the world by yourself. Being here now, you knew it was the best decision.
"So a good dancer, a risk taker, beautiful," one of the male dancers began to list.
You blushed at the compliment. One thing that has changed is your struggle to accept compliments. You knew he meant well, but it didn't stop you feeling as if your face had gotten incredibly hot.
"You've got to have a partner, right? Meet someone here in Korea? I mean, Korean men know how to treat you right," he winked.
You heard one of the female dancers scuff. She rolled her eyes at his words, shaking her head towards the two of you. "Don't listen to him. Stay away from Korean men," she warned before going back to eat her salad.
"You're just upset still about your breakup," he muttered. Quickly, that was followed by a loud smack and laughter from the other members. You watched the one male rub his tender arm, apologizing to the woman to his right. Satisfied, she nodded in acknowledgement before going back to her lunch.
The male looked back at you, smiling sheepishly. "Anyways, are you single?" He asked. "You've never met up with us after practice for a quick drink."
Yeah, I normally can't go out because I'm getting railed by Jungkook after practice.
"Maybe she has a boyfriend back home?"
Decided to speak to yourself, you laughed as a way to break the conversation. Eager eyes were on you, wanting to know more about their American colleague.
"That's my bad for not showing face after practice. I normally get tired and want to go home. Sometimes I'm even here practicing a bit more just to make sure I'm as good as you all. I mean, you guys are professionals."
The group smiled wide at your kind words. You weren't sure how you'd fit in as an outsider, especially if you weren't sure if you were going to be staying or not. At the start of this job, you placed a huge amount of pressure to do well especially as you knew that so many people would do anything to be in your position. You wanted the company to be satisfied that they chose the right person.
"Well, now that it's known that we want you here. You are coming out with us tomorrow night."
"Yes, you have to! We'll have to show you around the best parts of Seoul."
"And hopefully get you with the best guy."
"Or at least go home with the best guy."
Your cheeks turned pink again, which caused all the whole group to smile. How could life get any better?
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The sun had already set by the time you got done with practice. Most of the group had left for the evening whereas you were packing up your duffle bag with all your belongings. While you were very much looking forward to tomorrow night, you always loved a night-in to yourself.
You couldn't help but wonder if Jungkook would want to come over.
"You know, you really should be leaving here by yourself," a voice called out to you.
Startled, you looked over your shoulder to see Jungkook leaning against the practice room door. Speak of the devil. You placed one hand over your chest as your racing heart began to settle, very slowly that is.
"God, you fucking scared me."
He let out a laugh before coming into the room. You only could tell how he was moving by the sound of his laughter growing louder. "Sorry, doll, I couldn't help myself," he apologized. You hummed in amusement as you had your back turned towards him, trying to get the rest of your belongings together so you could leave. Because if he was ready to go, that meant that you were to.
You felt his hand ghost over your hip. Zipping up the duffle bag, you slowly stood up straighter to feel him right behind you. His lips hovered over the shell of your ear, feeling his hot breath against it. You shivered from the effect and with excitement.
"You seem to really be finding your place here," he said.
His voice was very smooth. He knew the effect he had on you, how you were basically wrapped around his finger. And he used it to his advantage. You were a bit confused as to where this was coming from.
"I mean, I overheard you making plans with the other dancers. I think that's good for you." His hand gently caressed your hip, the touch light as a feather. You were almost in a trance from it all. Just feeling his body heat radiate into your back sent a wave of warmth throughout you.
"But there is one thing I do not like." You were about to look over at him, but were cut off when his grip on you tightened. He yanked you back so you could feel his boner right up against his ass. You gasped in surprise which caused him to chuckle lightly. The laugh sending shivers done your spine. "I don't like sharing, angel."
Everything happened so suddenly. One minute, you were getting your duffle bag, the next you were being pinned against the mirrors of the dance studio. Jungkook's grip was tight enough to inform you he was in charge here, but loose enough to slip out if you felt uncomfortable. Yet, his gaze locked on you told you to stay put.
His breathing was a bit rigid, sensing emotions were coursing through his body. What was on his mind? You noticed his jaw was a bit clenched, almost as if he was contemplating what he was doing or his next move.
"Let me make it clear. You are not going home with anyone else besides me. You'll always come back to me."
Oh god, he overheard your conversation earlier. It was starting to make sense.
"I'll have to remind you if that's an issue."
"Then mark me up and make me yours."
Jungkook's breathing hitched hearing you. He wasn't expecting such a response from you but it made him so damn weak. God, you were the death of him.
Not one to back down, he accepted your challenge.
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Smack.
You whimpered loudly at the feeling of Jungkook's hand meeting your left asscheek. It was like an electric jolt. A bit painful, considering he has spanked you repeatedly throughout the evening, but also pleasurable because it made you feel alive. It honestly made you feel powerful.
Jungkook had you on your hands and knees. You were at the dance studio. You knew everyone had left but the thrill of someone potentially catching the two of you turned you on.
With one hand staying on your hip, Jungkook's other hand ran up your spine gently. His touch was still a stark contrast to the feeling of his thick cock sliding in and out of your soaking pussy. Each smack against your ass caused your walls to squeeze around his cock, sending the two of you into a chorus of moans.
His hips rammed into you from behind. It created a rhythmic sound of skin slapping, the two of you moaning, and how wet you were. The last sound caused your cheeks to heat up, much to Jungkook's satisfaction.
The hand on your spine gathered your hair. You were grateful you put it in a low ponytail during practice earlier. Jungkook pulled your head, causing you to hiss in response. The sweet sting of your hair being pulled made you crave more. The sudden movement also caused your eyes to become a bit glossy. Your head tilted back as you met his in the reflection of the mirror.
"Look at you," Jungkook asked. His mouth was curled into a sinister smirk. "You're crying over my cock. Is it not enough for you, hmm? Is that why you wanna go out to meet other guys?"
"No, Jungkook, fuck," he panted out. "You're all I want, all I need."
"Oh yeah? Prove it. Cum on my cock. Show me that I really am the only one that can make you feel so damn good."
If it were possible, Jungkook increased his pace. You cried out in pleasure as the intensity of his brutal thrusting caused your arms to give out. You upper half of your body rested against the cool wood floor, causing your ass to move a bit up. Jungkook groaned in appreciation for the change. He couldn't help himself. Smack.
Your mind was hazy. You couldn't comprehend anything besides Jungkook's cock filling and stretching you out. Your vision was getting blurry from the tears beginning to fall as you felt that familiar tingling, warm sensation in your stomach.
In a matter of moments, your vision went white and your toes curled. You screamed out his name. His grip on your hips could be burned into your skin. You never wanted him to stop touching you. Jungkook groaned as his thrusts got harder, determined to meet you at your high. The world around you seemed to stand still while your head was in the clouds.
After a few more thrusts, Jungkook let out a loud groan. You could feel his cum filling your pussy, which sent you into a whimpering mess at the feeling. You felt so content. He also felt content seeing some of his cum spilling out of your pussy once he began to pull out.
He swore you've never looked more beautiful. All his.
Lips were being pressed against your spine. You didn't even register that your body had sprawled out onto the wooden surface until Jungkook gently moved you. Your head rested on his chest, your back on the floor. His hand ran up and down your lower back. His other hand reached up to wipe away any of your remaining tears.
You were bringing brought down to reality. You could register the sound of you two heavy breathing, the slight tremors of your body starting to subside. With your head pressed into Jungkook's chest, you could hear his once racing heart beat begin to steady itself.
"You won't forget about me, right?"
"How could I ever forget about you?"
There was a pause. Jungkook was the type to usually have a response, or do something in response to what was said to him. Not this time.
You looked up at him, concerned as you knew something was bothering him. Unfortunately, you got confirmation when you were met with his own glossy eyes.
"Look, I know a lot is going to change over 18 months. I don't care if you stay here in Korea or you go back home. I don't like sharing, y/n, so just promise not to forget about me because I'll come back to you. Every single damn time."
"I could never forget about you, Jeon Jungkook. I'll be waiting for you, regardless of what happens next."
#jeon jungkook#jungkook x you#jeon jungkook smut#jungkook x y/n#jeon jungkoooook#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook imagine#bts jk#jungkook#bts jungkook#bangtan#jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#jungkook bts#jeon jungkook x you#bts#bts army#atinystraynstay#kpop#fanfic#bts smut#bts fanfic#bts imagines#jk
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞! ** 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
summary: modern au; ellie moves to a big city to escape the past. she goes to her first lesbian bar, where she meets you.
cw: porn with…a whisper of plot; alcohol use, fingering (e!receiving), strap-on sex, bottom!ellie, slightly sub!ellie, she’s whiny here
Ellie’s never been to a lesbian bar.
It’s surreal - banners of colorful pride flags are strung across the room, some of which she can’t even identify. Distressed and faded posters are plastered on the stone walls, advertising drag shows and queer punk bands with names like The Cranky Dykes and T-Girl Social. Nearly every patron is tatted or pierced, and there’s more platform boots and fishnet clothing than Ellie’s ever seen in one place before. Before she’d moved to the city, Ellie had lit up with excitement at the thought of visiting a lesbian bar. But now, in her worn Harley Davidson tee and a pair of jeans with unintentional rips at the knees, she feels very much out of her depth.
Steeling her nerves, she internally reminds herself that this is exactly why she’d moved in the first place - she needed new experiences. She needed unfamiliarity. What she’d left back in Texas was her normal, and she planned to build a new normal here. One that was the antithesis of everything she’d known before.
The bar isn’t completely packed, but she does need to push past dancing, sweaty bodies, girls sucking on each other’s faces, and chatting cliques to get to the edge of the bar, where more clusters of people are calling out drink orders and thrusting wads of cash tips at the bartenders. By some miracle, an empty barstool presents itself after a drunken patron with a mohawk stumbles out of it, and Ellie swoops in to snatch it before someone else does. She sits there for a good few minutes, trying to capture a bartender’s attention, until someone shuffles up beside her and sticks a hand out to wave one over. And, of course, they notice immediately, heading over with a towel slung over their shoulder. Ellie sinks lower into her seat, cheeks burning.
“I’ll have a spicy marg,” the woman beside Ellie says, voice projecting loud enough to hear over the clamor of music and chatter. The bartender nods, then goes to step away, but the woman next to Ellie stops her, speaking with that attention-commanding voice.
“What are you having?”
The bartender’s gaze shifts to Ellie, still hunched over and beet-red in the face. She flushes impossibly redder when she looks up at the woman who’d just ordered, realizing that the question had been directed at her.
“Oh,” she blurts, posture straightening. She glances at the woman, anxiety flaring, then back at the bartender. “Um, an old fashioned. Please. Thanks.”
Just as quickly as they’d come, the bartender disappears again, off to pour precisely-measured shots and mix cocktails in shiny silver shakers. Ellie’s hands are in her lap, fiddling restlessly, when she finally forces herself to look up at the woman who’d practically had to order for her.
You smile at her when she meets your gaze. Though she’s trying to be subtle about it, you can feel the way Ellie drinks in your every feature, eyes flickering over your face, then your body. It’s obvious that she likes what she sees, because she has a hard time looking you in the eye again.
“Thanks,” she says. “I’ve been trying to order for a while.”
“So I saw,” you respond, but not unkindly. You take a moment to look her over, although you’d already done plenty of that before you’d even approached her - you had seen her from across the bar, looking forlorn, her leg bouncing beneath the edge of the bar as she tried (and failed) to order herself a drink. Her lack of confidence is what piqued your interest; it was hard to believe that someone that gorgeous wasn’t oozing arrogance and self-importance. She’s all lean muscles and shaggy hair, her forearm decorated with a sprawling fern tattoo. You could already imagine yourself running your hands through that hair, kissing the length of her sharp jawline, pulling those narrow hips up against your own.
At a lesbian bar, a hot girl who couldn’t carry herself with confidence usually meant one of two things: she’s fresh out of a breakup, or she’d never been somewhere like this. You’re determined to find out which of the two applies to her.
“What’s your name? I haven’t seen you here before.” You angle your body to face Ellie, popping your hip out as subtly as you can.
Ellie, determined to keep her eyes on your face and not the curve of your hip or the delicious sliver of cleavage peeking out of your square-neck top, peers up at you from behind her bangs. “Uh, yeah, I’ve never been. I just moved here. I’m Ellie - what’s your name?”
You tell her your name and she repeats it slowly, like she’s tasting every syllable. “Pretty.”
Your drinks arrive before you can fumble for a response.
“Spicy marg, old fashioned,” the bartender lists as they slide your drinks over the smooth wood of the bar. Ellie murmurs her thanks and you nod at the bartender before they disappear, your hand curling around the glass.
“Cheers?” You tip your drink towards Ellie. She clinks her own glass against yours and the two of you take your first sips, the bitterness of the alcohol burning its way down your throat. You feel it settle in your stomach, warm and satisfying.
“So,” you begin, licking jalapeño and lime-tinged tequila from your lips. Ellie’s eyes follow the movement for a moment before she catches herself and looks away. “Where’d you move from?”
Ellie smiles shyly. You watch her index finger trace the rim of her glass. “Texas.”
“Oh?” One of your brows lifts. “And what made you want to move here, Texas?”
“For one, I’m gay.”
“Thank you for stating the obvious.”
She lets out a little laugh, and the sound makes you want to grin - you take a sip of your margarita instead.
“I just… Couldn’t be there anymore,” she elaborates. “It wasn’t right for me. I needed to start fresh.”
You don’t say anything for a moment, letting Ellie’s words sink in. Clearly, something severe enough had happened to make her want to shed her life in Texas like an old skin. And this lesbian bar, filled with every unique kind of queer this city had to offer, was part of this new version of Ellie - the version she’d chosen to build from the ground up. You’re struck by how brave Ellie must be for that. And yeah, maybe she’d struggled to order a drink for herself, but that didn’t take away from her bravery - not when she’d willfully chosen to uproot her life, a decision most people could never follow through with.
“I’m impressed,” you say honestly. “And I hope the city gives you what you’re looking for.”
The corners of Ellie’s lips twitch, and that pretty blush fights its way onto her cheeks again. You’re about to say something when you hear the first notes of one of your favorite songs thumping through the speakers, a few other bargoers cheering to express their own excitement.
“Dance with me,” you say to Ellie, reaching forward with your free hand to grab her forearm. She looks up at you like a deer in headlights.
“I can’t dance.”
“Doesn’t matter, just follow my lead. C’mon.”
“I don’t know if—”
“Didn’t you come here to try new things?” You curl your fingers around Ellie’s wrist, and she lets you pull her to her feet. You’ve made a good point, and she doesn’t argue again - just follows you to the dancefloor, where dozens of others are already moving to the beat of the music, hips rolling, heads nodding. The lights pulsate in the vibrant colors of the rainbow, the crowd painted shades of sunset orange, hot pink, deep indigo. You sip your drink and start to dance, turning to face Ellie; she’s gaping at you, unmoving.
“Come here,” you say, having to shout over the music. Ellie steps closer to you as you move to the rhythm, hips swishing. You’re wearing a pair of flared pants that makes your ass look incredible, and after Ellie finally starts to dance along with you, you turn around to bring your backside closer to her. As if by instinct, Ellie’s arm loops around your waist - she presses her palm into the front of your pelvis, rolls her hips against your ass. You grin, wide and self-satisfied, as you lift your drink to your lips again - only to realize it’s almost gone. You make a mental note to head back to the bar after this song, but for now, you enjoy the last few drops of your margarita, revelling in the feeling of Ellie’s hand, strong on your hip, as she presses ever-closer into you from behind.
Ellie’s in awe of you.
The way you’d strolled up beside her at the bar, posture proud, buying Ellie a drink and flirting with her like it was easy, natural. The way you’d let your eyes wander over her figure, not shy at all about the lust in your gaze. The way you’d dragged her to the dancefloor and ground your ass back against her, smelling like lime and tequila and something headier, something distinctly you.
Now, after two strong drinks and several songs-worth of dancing with you, Ellie’s so turned on she feels like a live wire, sparks erupting from her every nerve.
On the dancefloor, Ellie had looped her arm around your hips, leaning in so close she could smell the liquor on your breath. You’d needed to fight down every urge to kiss her first - you weren’t even sure if she’d ever kissed another woman before, and you’d already done enough to pull her out of her shell for the night. But Ellie had leaned her forehead against yours, noses brushing, eyes fluttering shut… And your mouths had crashed together in the sort of kiss you’re going to have a very hard time forgetting.
After making out in the crowd like that for god knows how long, you’d invited Ellie back to your apartment. Which brings you to your current predicament: Ellie’s backed up against the front door, your hand under her shirt, fingers dancing over every inch of her deliciously solid abdomen. If Ellie’s inexperienced, she’s doing a fabulous job of pretending she isn’t. But you’re not sure just how innocent she is now, as she moans unabashedly into your mouth, your hand squeezing her tits over her sports bra.
“Hey,” you breathe, pulling back from the heated kiss you’d been sharing.
“Mm?” Ellie blinks at you, dazed. You want to ruin her.
“Is this okay?” You peck at her lips, then her cheek. “We don’t have to… Do anything. Not if you don’t want to.”
Ellie’s bangs are gorgeously tousled, and she looks at you like a kicked puppy - all round eyes and furrowed brows, worried you’re taking something from her. “But I… I want to.”
“You sure?”
Ellie nods.
“Have you ever been with another woman before?” Your stomach twists at the directness of your own question, but you really want to know. Need to know. A bar hookup might not be the best way for her to pop her cherry - or, at least, her gay cherry.
Then again, it’s not exactly unheard of in the community.
“Yeah. I have,” Ellie says, her hand reaching out to grab your hip.
You find yourself wanting to pry, dig deeper for more information, but there’s no real reason for it. She’s not entirely new to this. She wants you. That’s all that really matters, right?
So you take her to your bedroom, let her undress you with shaky, calloused hands, kiss her slow and sweet while she unbuttons her jeans and kicks them aside. You help each other undress until you’re both naked, and then you’re stumbling into bed, your legs straddling Ellie’s hips as you kiss down her neck, stopping to suck pretty purple bruises into the sensitive skin. Ellie makes a noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper, sending another white-hot jolt of arousal through you. Your cunt is spread over her pelvis, and you grind down against her like that, letting out a pleased sound of your own.
“God, you’re so hot,” Ellie mutters, watching you roll your hips as you kiss down to her chest. She reaches for your tits, squeezes them in her palms.
“Yeah?” You smile, sharp and wolfish, down at Ellie. She looks at you like she can’t believe this is happening - like she can’t believe you’re real. “Gonna let me fuck you, Ellie?”
She moans at the obscenity of the question, nodding quickly. “Yes, god, please fuck me.”
“Mm,” you hum, “need to get you ready first, baby.”
Ellie’s breathing is ragged, her hips lifting, seeking friction. You climb down her body until you’re settled between her legs, pulling her knees apart to give yourself access to her center. She’s fucking soaked - you bite your lip at the sight of her, clit swollen and puffy, labia shining with arousal.
You start with one finger, dipping into the wetness pooled at her entrance and spreading it up to her clit, drawing sharp breaths and staggering moans from Ellie’s kiss-bitten lips. Every sound she makes has you yearning to hear more, more. You slide your middle finger into her clenching hole and groan when you feel her walls open up smoothly around the digit. She pulses around you, hot and slick. When you begin pumping your finger in and out of that tight heat, Ellie’s noises become even more drawn-out, even more frantic - you look up at her and find her eyes already on you, dark with lust, a desperate, pleading expression etched onto her face.
“You’re so fucking pretty, baby,” you coo at her, revelling in the way her pussy tightens at your words.
“I–nngh, fuck–I need…” She trails off, jaw clenching.
You fake-pout at her, puff out your lower lip in faux sympathy. “What is it? What do you need?”
“Need more,” Ellie pants out.
“I can give you more, sweetheart,” you reassure her, “all you had to do was ask.”
So, you give her more. You slip another finger inside of her, press the heel of your hand against the sensitive nub of her clit; your fingers curl upwards in the warmth of her cunt, finding that spongy, sensitive spot that’ll make her see stars. She whines - actually fucking whines, high-pitched and desperate, as if to say yes, right there.
“Shit, oh my god…” Ellie’s hands are clutching the sheets, knuckles blanched. “‘M so close.”
You don’t let up, and it only takes a few more moments of your careful ministrations before Ellie’s falling apart, a mess of jolting hips, strangled gasps, and a rush of wetness. You watch her come undone, wishing you could committ the sight to memory. After, you lick your fingers clean.
While Ellie’s spent and recovering from the height of her orgasm, you shuffle to the side of the bed to reach for your nightstand. You roll open the drawer, rummage around, and return to Ellie’s side with a tiny bottle of lube and your strap, the harness made of powder pink fabric. The brunette sighs contentedly when you lean over to kiss her, swiping her sweat-damp bangs away from her forehead.
“You taste so good, did you know that?” You press another kiss to the corner of Ellie’s lips, feeling the way they twitch into a smile.
“I really doubt it,” Ellie says.
You scoff. “Don’t doubt my taste.”
“Mm, okay. Fine. I believe you.”
Fighting your own smile, you move back to sit on your heels, cheeks heating when you notice Ellie’s eyes roaming over your naked body.
“Need something?”
Ellie nods, then sits up and pulls you in for another kiss, her hand on the back of your neck. “I want you to really fuck me now.”
“Oh yeah?” You grin at her, your hands making their way to her tits and smoothing over her pebbled nipples. “Think you should learn some manners, Ellie. How about please?”
Her expression goes soft - eyes rounding, mouth pursing.
“Please,” she says, and her voice is so sweet, it might rot your teeth. “Please fuck me.”
And who are you to deny her what she needs?
As it turns out, Ellie’s pussy was made to take strap. She’s leaned over, face down in one of your pillows, her ass propped up perfectly to give you access to her cunt. Still soaked from her last orgasm, she hardly needs any lube, the strap pushing into her all the way to the hilt without any resistance; she keens when you’re fully seated inside of her, a sound that makes your own pussy throb with need. Every noise she makes is pure heaven - you wish you could record them all, listen to them when you’re in bed at night with your hand between your thighs.
“Fuuuuck,” Ellie cries out when you hit that sweet spot with the tip of the strap, her head shifting to lean on one side, allowing you to see the look on her face - the roll of her eyes, the way her lips part to let out each of her gasps and moans.
“How’s that feel, princess?” You ask as you pound into her from behind; you admire the way her back arches deeper, like she’s encouraging you to fuck into her further and further.
“S-so good,” Ellie stutters weakly.
“Yeah? Doing so good for me, baby,” you pant. Every slam of your hips against Ellie’s ass makes her grunt, a pleased little sound, short and needy.
That tiny grunt turns into an impatient whine when you pull out of her entirely, a lewd, wet noise accompanying the motion.
“Why’d you stop?” Ellie asks, voice small. She cranes her neck to look back at you and the expression on her face is absolutely pathetic.
You give her ass a playful smack, admiring the way it recoils from the contact of your palm. “Want you to flip over. I need to see you come again, you looked so pretty the first time.”
She does as instructed - she’s already so good at following directions, you’ve learned. When Ellie’s on her back, her face, neck, and chest tinged red with equal parts arousal and exertion, you lean in and whisper praises to her, lining the strap up to her entrance and pushing into her again.
“Hold your legs up, sweetheart,” you instruct, pushing her thighs up until they’re folded against her body. She nods, panting, and lifts her hands up to hold her legs in place. You slip deeper into her like this; Ellie goes cross-eyed, lips pursed into a pretty “o” shape as you fuck her senseless. It doesn’t take much longer for her to get close again, and when her legs begin to shake with the effort of holding them up for you, you tell her to relax.
“Play with your clit, hm? I want you to come.”
Ellie nods. “Y-yeah, I can do that. For you.”
“Just for me?” You grin.
“Mm, just for you.”
Her hand shakes as she brings it between her legs, drawing sloppy circles over her clit with her fingers. You keep fucking her, hips snapping restlessly, every lewd squelch of her cunt making you gush wetter and wetter. But as desperate as you are to come, you’re more focused on Ellie - the way she bites her lip, her entire body tense with her impending orgasm. She warns you before she finally tips over the edge: an endless chant of right there, I’m gonna come, you’re gonna make me come, oh my god…
You’re not sure how long you lie there on top of Ellie, still buried inside her, before her breathing finally rights itself again. You spend that time kissing all over her face and running your hands through her auburn hair, untangling a few knotted locks in the process. You’re both covered in a thin layer of sweat, bodies glistening, but neither of you seems to mind. Content to lie there together, you rest until Ellie pulls you in for a kiss - one that turns needy and sloppy not long after.
“Can I taste you?” Ellie asks between kisses, her lips shiny with saliva. She says it with such hope, like she’s not sure what you’ll say. But you’re still drenched between your legs, inner thighs sticky with it.
“There’s nothing I want more right now,” you confess.
So Ellie finds a place between your legs, mouth latching to your clit like it’s muscle memory. You curl a fist into her hair and guide her every move, murmuring instructions, which she follows like the good girl she is. The night continues that way - all whispered pleas and tremoring orgasms, tangled limbs and slick-coated fingers, until the two of you finally doze off, wrapped in each other’s warmth.
And Ellie thinks she’s made a good decision, moving here. Trying something new.
#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams smut#ellie x reader#ellie smut#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams#ellie tlou2#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie williams tlou#ellie fanfic#ellie the last of us#ellie tlou#ellie x you#ellie x y/n#ellie x fem reader#ellie x reader smut#ellie x reader fic#ellie williams x you#ellie williams x y/n#tlou fanfic#tlou2 fanfic#kira writes#wlw#lesbian#sapphic
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