#behind closed doors fic
Text
Behind Closed Doors
Part two
Your admiration of his vest leads you to an empty office with his face buried between your thighs—and an urgent Emily demanding your whereabouts.
Warnings: (18+ MDNI) soft!dom spence (are we even surprised), fingering, oral sex (f), semi-public, slight overstimulation, and Emily kind of overhears because she calls Reader in the middle of the deed (oops). 5k words
A/n: I don’t have any excuse for this one, I just wanted to rewrite this scene of him because looking at it is not enough
You heard him before you saw him. It wasn't his voice per se, but the distinct sound of rapid shots cutting through the air. The noise seemed to intensify as you stepped into the control room, almost overbearing, but you'd long since grown used to its piercing sound.
"Is that Reid?" You asked, your polished boots echoing into the confined space. The officer monitoring him through the surveillance camera glanced over at you, and even though her expression didn't betray outright displeasure, you could hear a subtle edge in her voice.
"Agent Y/L/N," she greeted, her eyes darting between the rows of monitors, then to you, and finally settling on the clipboard in her hand. "You're not supposed to be here."
"Actually, I am. It’s Tuesday, my usual training day.”
"Not for another hour."
"I know," you countered, holding up your wrist to check your watch. "But I have some spare time, thought I’d come by early."
“I’m afraid it’s occupied right now. Agent Reid is still in the middle of his test."
This caught your attention. "What test?"
She glanced at you, her expression conflicted. "It's just a routine evaluation."
"He's currently not an active agent," you pointed out. It hadn’t been too long since his release from prison. It didn’t make any sense for him to go through an evaluation, not when he was behind bars for the past few weeks. Then recognition dawned on your face. "He's being evaluated to rejoin the team, isn't he?"
"I... I'm not at liberty to discuss that," she replied. Her gaze faltered momentarily before she nodded slowly, confirming your suspicions. "But yes, it's standard procedure for agents returning from extended leave."
"Oh wow—okay," you responded, absorbing the information. Your eyes flickered towards the monitor. "How's he doing?"
Her lips formed a thoughtful line before she answered, "Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp."
You let out a laugh, finding the comparison amusing. You'd known Spencer for what, three, four years? While he wasn't bad with firearms, comparing him to a historical figure like Wyatt Earp seemed a bit exaggerated. However, as you watched him through the monitors, despite your initial skepticism, you couldn't deny the truth in her words.
You had witnessed him handle a gun countless times, but always in situations where there was a real threat, where you both had to be on high alert. Yet as you observed him now from a different perspective, it was hard to tear your eyes away. It was as if he was in his element, and Spencer Reid in his element never looked so... attractive?
Now that wasn't an exaggeration. Although you had never admitted this to anyone—god forbid what your teammates would say—there was an undeniable charm to the confidence he exuded. While Spencer had always been attractive, there was something different about the way he handled the gun.
You were sure it had something to do with his time in prison. After all, who wouldn't be affected by such a daunting place, especially when you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place? Yet, surprisingly, Spencer seemed to be coping better than you expected. Despite the toll it must have taken on him, it was evident that his experiences had shaped him, perhaps more than he let on.
Although he was still the same sweet, adorable guy you considered one of your closest friends. But you weren't sure your current observation of him fitted the typical definition of friendship… because there was nothing remotely friendly about the thoughts running in your head right now.
Not only was it not friendly, but it wasn't exactly innocent. Because look at him. Look at the way he was gripping the gun, his arms defined beneath his rolled-up sleeves. Look at the way his protective glasses covered his face, the black-rimmed frames accentuating his handsome features. And even though you had seen him wear the uniform vest countless times, somehow it was undeniably distracting the way it hugged his chest.
Yep—there was nothing remotely friendly about how you wanted to climb up the man.
A sudden buzz echoed in the room, snapping you to reality. You glanced up and noticed the officer you were talking to entering the monitor screen and it dawned on you that you had been so distracted by your thoughts that you hadn't realized she had left the control room.
"I'll send the results to the review board this evening," the officer's voice resonated from the screen.
"Did I do okay?" His voice came through.
"Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp," she replied, echoing her earlier assessment. Her gaze shifted to the printed cardboard image of a man, supposedly representing the Unsub, which was shredded right around the face. "Or... Al Capone, maybe."
You observed Spencer's slight nod as she turned and walked out of the screen. Quickly, you exited the control room and met her in the hallway.
"Agent Y/L/N," she called out as she spotted you. "You can have the room in five minutes—"
"I need to reschedule."
Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Reschedule?"
"Uh... yes, something urgent came up," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual.
She regarded you for a moment before nodding. "Alright, just let me know when you want to reschedule."
"I will, thank you," you said quickly. Sensing her lingering gaze, you added, "Oh, I'm just waiting for Reid. I need his help on... something."
A faint smile played on her lips, though she didn't press further. "Of course, I'll leave you to it then."
With a nod, she turned and walked away just as the door at the end of the hallway opened, revealing Spencer emerging from the room. His eyes met yours in confusion, and you could sense his curiosity as he approached you.
"Hey," he greeted. "What are you doing here?"
You cocked your head to the side.
What were you doing here?
You took a moment to gather your thoughts before offering a shrug. "Just passing by, I guess."
His brow furrowed slightly as if he sensed there was more to your answer than you were letting on. "Alright," he said, though his curiosity lingered in his gaze.
You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, suddenly feeling the need to change the subject. "So, how did the evaluation go?"
"So you've heard.”
"Yeah," you confirmed, starting to walk down the hallway as he stepped in pace beside you. "I can't wait for you to be back on the team. Officially, that is."
"If they let me back on the team."
"Of course they will," you reassured him, your hand finding its place on his shoulder, offering support. "You're more than qualified."
He sighed, and you tried not to notice the subtle movement of his vest across his chest, or how it shifted under your touch. "You think so?"
"I know so," you affirmed, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Trust me, they'll definitely bring you back."
He stopped his pace, and so did you, before his eyes flickered towards your hand on his shoulder. He must've sensed something different, considering you weren't exactly the type of person who liked physical contact. Neither of you were, actually. While Spencer was known for his aversion to germs, you simply preferred maintaining a certain level of personal space.
"Seriously," he wondered, his tone laced with curiosity. "What are you doing down here?"
You cleared your throat. "I told you, I was just passing by."
"Really? Is that why you're talking to me instead of going through your usual training?" he pressed on. "It's Tuesday. I'm well aware of your schedule."
Damn him and his eidetic memory. You shifted away from his gaze. "Can't a girl just choose to have a chat with a friend?"
"You chose me over your scheduled routine?” his lips curved into a subtle smile. “Am I that much of a distraction?”
Yes, that damn vest is distracting me.
"Distraction might be a bit strong,” you replied, the lie sounding feeble even to your own ears.
"So you’re admitting I’m slightly distracting?"
"I never said that.”
Spencer leaned in and you felt the heat of his proximity radiating from his body. "But you didn't deny it either.”
You felt a faint blush creep onto your cheeks as you realized the shift in his tone. Dare you say he was... flirting with you? Or was it just your imagination running wild? From the corner of your eye, you caught the subtle way he licked his lips, and without meaning to, your own gaze was drawn to the movement.
It was a habit of his, one you'd observed countless times before whether it was out of concentration or a mere reflex. But seeing it up close now, the way his tongue traced the curve of his bottom lip, was driving you insane.
You swallowed hard. This was not friendly behavior. A friend wouldn't be imagining what it would feel like to have his tongue on your lips instead.
"Y/N?"
Your face felt hot as you met his gaze. "I..."
Before you could respond, the sound of laughter and chatter from down the hallway reached your ears. You heard Penelope's unmistakable giggle with JJ's animated voice, and suddenly your instinct took over. Without a second thought, you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him into an empty office nearby.
The door shut with a soft thud, and you frowned, suddenly feeling embarrassed. You didn't want to be caught in a state of flustered panic like some nervous school girl talking to her crush, but as Spencer stood behind you, you realized you were overreacting. The more you dwelled on it, the more absurd it seemed to hide away when there was no reason to.
With a sigh, you turned to face him. "Sorry about that, I didn't mean to..."
But as your gaze met him, your words faltered because he was standing closer than you expected. Close enough that the color of his eyes seemed to intensify under the soft light filtering through the window—a rich brown, like warm chocolate, with specks of gold that danced in the sunlight.
Your eyes involuntarily traced downwards, from the sharp lines of his nose to the curve of his lips, lingering on the stubble lining his jawline. Your mind wandered, and now you couldn't help but wonder how it would feel having it against your skin. Or how it would feel pressed against your thigh.
Your face grew hotter at the thought.
"Y/N? Are you alright?" he asked, taking a step forward. You squeaked in surprise, an actual high-pitched sound leaving your lips, as you felt the hard surface of his vest pressing against your chest.
"It's just..." You hesitated, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. "You're standing really close..."
He glanced down at you, his eyes resting on your lips. "Do you want me to move?"
"I... uh..."
His eyes flickered back up to meet yours. "I'll take that as a no."
Before you could process his words, his hand reached up, fingers gently gripping your waist. You felt a rush of heat spread through you at his touch, the sensation seeping through your shirt and you found yourself leaning into him, your breath catching in your throat as his face hovered closely above yours.
It was happening. Your heart pounded in your chest as his lips drew closer. You couldn’t believe it, he was going to kiss you—Spencer-fucking-Reid was going to kiss you.
But just as his lips hovered dangerously close against yours, he suddenly stopped.
"Just to make this clear," he began, running a thumb along your side. "I respect you, both as a friend and a colleague. I don't want to force you into anything you're not comfortable with, so if you think this is pushing any boundaries then—"
"Spencer," you cut in. "Just kiss me already."
With a hint of relief and a small smile playing on his lips, he finally closed the gap between you.
You never imagined his lips could be so soft. He had the softest lips that moved against your own with a hint of coffee and something undeniably sweet. Those soft, soft lips parted away from yours for a moment before he leaned back in, more desperate, more needy. And when he swiped your bottom lip with his tongue, seeking entrance, you couldn't help but welcome him with a soft moan of pleasure.
He devoured you then, his tongue pushing eagerly into your mouth, his lips enveloping you with a hunger that left you breathless as he pressed himself against you. Before you could fully grasp what was happening, you were walking backward until your back collided with the solid surface of the desk.
With strength you didn’t know he possessed, he effortlessly lifted you and perched you on top of it, prompting a surprised squeal to escape your lips. He laughed in response but you were too caught up in the moment to worry about whether he found you amusing.
Your hands eagerly roamed over his chest, fingers curling around the strap of his vest as you pulled him closer. He slipped between your parted legs with ease and when he pressed his evident bulge against your core, you both gasped in pleasure.
"We should... we should probably stop, right?" he murmured, his voice muffled against your lips. Despite his words, his actions betrayed his self-control as he began to roll his hips against you.
“We're at work, someone might—” He groaned. “Someone might… hear us..."
He was right, but you found yourself unable to care about anything else but the sensation of his hard cock pressing against your heat.
"We could stop, or..." you found yourself saying without thinking. Your hands moved with a mind of their own, finding their way between you as you started to unbutton your shirt, the fabric slipping away to reveal more of your skin.
"Or..." He prompted, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip yet again, his breath coming out in shallow, ragged bursts.
"Or..." you repeated, pushing the front of your shirt open. "We could be quiet."
"We could be quiet," he agreed all too quickly. "We could definitely be quiet."
You let out an amused laugh. "We’re going to get in trouble if anyone finds us."
“Then you shouldn’t make a sound.”
“Me? What about—oh.”
His lips were already trailing down your body, leaving soft kisses as they lingered on your neck, across your collarbone, and then he moved lower, sucking lightly on the swell of your breasts. A whimper of his name escaped your lips, your fingers entwining in his hair.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes drinking at the sight of your breast pushed up against your bra, a glistening sheen of his saliva coating your skin.
“You are stunning,” he murmured, before leaning back in to place a tender kiss on the spot where your collarbone met your shoulder. “How far do you want to take this?”
You blinked, trying to ground yourself into the moment between the lust fogging your brain. “What do you mean?”
“This,” he muttered as he rutted his hips against yours, drawing a needy moan from you. “How far are you willing to go?”
“If you’re asking whether I want to have sex with you, the answer is a hundred percent yes.”
You could practically feel his smile on your skin as he buried himself in the crook of your neck.
“That’s good to know,” he whispered, causing you to arch your back as your chest pressed against the hard material of his vest. “But I don’t think we can do much considering we’re supposed to be working. Well, you at least.”
You grasped his shoulders, pushing him away to meet his gaze. “I thought we agreed to keep quiet.”
“We can keep quiet,” he assured you, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “But I can’t rush my time with you. Besides, you deserve a much better setting than an unoccupied office full of dust.”
“Sounds like a you problem.”
He chuckled softly, his fingers trailing lightly along your jawline. “Maybe, but it’s more about time, really. I just want to take—” His lips brushed against your cheek. “My time—” A peck on your lips. “With you.”
You melted right there and then. You could’ve sworn you were nothing but a puddle mess. If he wasn’t holding you for support you were sure you could fall right back to the floor.
“Alright then,” you finally said, reaching for the buttons of your shirt with trembling hands only to be stopped as his fingers curled around your wrist.
“What are you doing?”
You shot him a puzzled look. “I thought you didn’t want to have sex right now.”
“I didn’t say anything about stopping,” he replied, releasing your hand before his palms slid up your thighs. “There are plenty of other things we can do.”
You felt the heat rising in your cheeks. “Like what?”
“Well, I guess we'll just have to get creative.”
Your breath hitched when his fingers hovered over the button on your pants. You watched with a mix of excitement and disbelief as he started to undo them, your mind turning into a mushy mess. It was as if every neuron in your brain had decided to stop working.
“Lift your hips for me.”
You met his gaze, trying to summon up your composure but you couldn’t help the nervous twitch of your lips. He smiled at you.
“Come on, pretty girl, we don’t have all day.”
Not only were you melting, but you were practically liquid by now. Your body moved on its own accord—your hands gripping his shoulders as you lifted your hips, synchronizing perfectly with his gentle movements to slide the material over your hips and down your legs.
He placed your pants on the empty space beside you while his eyes never left your body. His gaze lingered on the rise and fall of your chest, and he leaned in, his fingers trailing over your skin before settling on the hem of your panties. His thumb slid to the front, brushing along the delicate material. Your hips bucked as he continued to run his thumb up and down as if he were trying to map out your slick folds over the fabric.
“Look at you dripping,” he mused, his eyes fixated on the way his thumb slid over to your clit. “Are you always this wet?”
Your cheeks heated at the question. He wasn’t even trying to make it come off as dirty talk; he asked it like a normal question, as if he were simply wondering about what you ate for breakfast. But the question alone had your face burning because you did not expect it to come from him.
“I… I guess so.”
“You guess so?” he asked, his tone amused. He hooked his fingers into the material of your panties before pushing it to the side.
“I-I don’t know.” You let out a breathless moan when his fingers grazed your slit. “Whenever I’m turned on, I don’t... I don’t exactly touch myself just to check how wet I am.”
Spencer chuckled softly, angling his hand between your thighs before gently pushing his middle finger into your entrance. You gasped at the sudden stretch, brows furrowing as he pressed further, and your hand instinctively gripped onto his arm.
“Do you often touch yourself?”
Your head fell back as he started to move.
“M-Maybe,” you managed to stutter out.
"What do you think of when you do?" he asked slowly, his own breath starting to grow shallow as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He observed the way your mouth fell open, your tongue slightly slipping out in the corner, and the way your eyes shut closed. He was fascinated by the effect he had on you, on how just a simple touch had you squirming.
“A… a lot of things,” you managed to reply.
“Have you ever thought of me?”
Whoa.
The question caught you off guard, and you blinked, momentarily stunned.
This was dangerous territory, but then again, nothing seemed quite as risky as being fingered by your coworker on a Tuesday afternoon. So what harm could it be if you admitted that yes, in fact, he had crossed your mind when you touched yourself wishing it was his fingers instead?
A lot of harm, actually. One, it seemed like an inappropriate confession given your friendship. Friends don't usually imagine each other in sexual scenarios. And two, you could die of embarrassment.
"No," you replied, hoping your voice sounded more confident than you felt.
He hummed skeptically. “I thought we were past the point of lying between profilers.” With a pause, he added another finger inside you, causing you to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan. “Is this how you imagined it in your fantasies?”
What was the point of lying now? You swallowed hard, trying to think of a witty response to distract from the intense pleasure coursing through your body.
“Uh… This is slightly better.”
“Slightly? I’m hurt.” He pressed his thumb onto your clit. “What else did you think of then?”
Your cheeks flushed even more. “You… well, um, you also used your tongue.”
The airy laugh he let out sent a shiver down your spine. “Really? And how did that fantasy play out?"
Your heart raced as you tried to find the right words. "Let's just say it involved a lot more tongue action and a lot less talking."
His smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against your ear. “Then let’s reenact it.” He gently pulled his fingers out of you. “Lay on your back.”
With a shaky breath, you complied, sprawling out on the desk, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through you. When he reached for the waistband of your panties, you couldn't help but crack a joke. "If I knew this was the direction this day was heading, I would've worn my fanciest underwear."
Spencer shook his head. “Trust me, you don't need fancy underwear to drive me crazy."
He then deftly removed your panties, his movements confident yet tender, like he was unwrapping a precious gift. When the fabric pooled at your ankle, he got down on his knees and parted your legs wider, positioning himself between them.
You watched, anticipation building, as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your inner thigh. Then, with a teasing glance, he pressed his lips to your skin, planting soft kisses along the trail of your inner thigh, inching closer to your core.
You shivered at the sensation and your heart raced with every kiss. His hands roamed over your thighs, tracing delicate patterns while his mouth brushed closer to where you craved him the most. You bit down your bottom lip, unable to contain the moan that escaped as his tongue flicked out, grazing your sensitive flesh.
This was definitely better than your fantasies, the ones you'd harbored in secret, too taboo to admit even to yourself. But here you were, living out those desires in the most deliciously real way possible.
You gasped as his tongue lavished your slit, tasting every inch, mixing your arousal that was beginning to drip from your core with his saliva. Your back arched off the desk, thighs trembling and when they threatened to close, he made sure two heavy palms kept them open long enough for his tongue to drag over your clit.
You couldn’t believe this was happening. Somehow it felt like a dream, but everything was real. His face was right between your thighs; his mouth pressed against your cunt, his tongue lapping through your wet folds. And it wasn’t as simple as tasting you, he was eating you, devouring you, swallowing every drop of your arousal as if he couldn’t get enough of your taste.
You started to lose control of your mind, your body, your actions. Your hips bucked to meet his tongue, your jaw slackening as stifled moans spilled from your lips. And that was when you felt it—a faint vibration against your thigh. At first, you thought it was just the sensation of his touch, but then the loud, unmistakable loud ringtone of your phone shattered the moment.
"Shit!" You squealed, scrambling to grab your phone from your discarded pants. The last thing you needed was for someone to discover you in this compromising position.
"It's Emily—“ You pushed his head away, trying to hide your flushed face as he looked at you with surprise. His lips were glistened with your arousal and his hair seemed messier. God, he looked so pretty.
"Don't answer it."
"It might be important." With a pointed look, you silently urged him to keep quiet as you brought the phone to your ear with trembling fingers. “H-Hey... what's up?"
Emily's voice came through the line, slightly muffled by the sounds of commotion in the background. “Hey, I need you to review the report you submitted yesterday, you left a few details about the Unsub.”
Spencer's lips brushed against your inner thigh, sending a shiver down your spine, and you had to bite back a moan. You shot him a warning glare, mouthing ‘stop’ before turning your attention back to the call.
“Y/N? Are you listening?”
“Yeah,” you breathed out. “So… um, which report?”
"The case in Florida," your boss explained. "You mentioned that the Unsub was targeting women between the ages of 25 and 35…”
You were trying to listen, you really were, but it was hard when you felt his fingers ease into your cunt, your juices dripping out, coating his flesh as he curled them inside. You almost let out a whine as his thumb pressed to your clit, caressing in circular motions.
“…he's also been stalking younger women."
Your eyes screwed shut as he sped up his pace. His touch was driving you crazy, and you could barely register the conversation over the sounds of your own arousal echoing in the room.
“Y/N.”
You snapped your eyes open, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you tried to concentrate on the call. "Uh, yeah, go on," you managed to stammer, hoping she didn't notice your wavering tone.
“Are you okay? You sound... off," Emily's voice cut through the haze of pleasure. You shot Spencer another pleading look, but he simply smiled at you with a hand still between your thighs and the other slipping underneath your bra.
You forced yourself to take a deep breath, fighting against the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. "Uh, yeah, I… I-I’m doing my training.”
You mentally cursed yourself for the terrible excuse. Emily didn't seem entirely convinced. "Training?"
"Yeah, you know, the uh... firearm training? I-It’s Tuesday.”
There was a pause on the other end before she spoke again. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound like you're in pain."
You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan as his fingers curled inside of you. "No, no, I'm fine. Just... a little out of breath from all the… shooting."
Spencer let out an incredulous scoff, and you shot him a pointed glare.
“Are you with someone?”
You hesitated, racking your brain for a believable excuse, but all you could muster was a feeble, "Uh, nope.”
There was a pause on the other end, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken as your body flushed with heat. Meanwhile, Spencer seemed intent on torturing you, never stopping his pace. If anything, it seemed like his movements were increasing. Just when you thought you couldn't feel more exposed, another scoff echoed through your ear, this time from Emily.
“Alright, where are you really?” she pressed, her tone indicating she wasn't buying your flimsy excuse.
“I told you I-I’m doing my training.”
She laughed. “Y/N, we profile people as a job. I can sense your lie even through the phone.”
You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. What was up with these profilers and their knack for sniffing out lies? You were one yourself, but apparently, you were no match for their scrutiny.
“I’m not—“ your words were cut short when he stood up, hovering above you. You looked up at him, smiling at you innocently as his fingers continued to curl deep inside you. You clutched his forearm with your free hand, attempting to steady yourself.
"I'm not lying," you managed to squeak out.
"Mhm," came Emily's voice from the other end. “Just come by my office and grab the report, okay?”
Your breath hitched as his fingertips delved deeper, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight of his hand moving between your legs, coated in your arousal with each thrust. You could feel your orgasm edging closer. Your hips moved in sync with his motions as the pressure built, the tension coiling tighter in your stomach and—
“Y/N!”
“Y-Yes, I’m… I’m coming.” Spencer's low chuckle filled your ears, and you realized what you'd unintentionally implied. Your eyes widened in embarrassment. “I mean, I-I’ll be there soon, okay, bye!”
You quickly slammed your phone down on the desk, ending the call with a thud. But before you could even take a breath, Spencer's fingers were back to their rapid pace, driving you to the edge of sanity. Your body staggered under his touch, your hips moving in sync with his relentless rhythm, the world outside the room fading away into a blur of pleasure.
"A-Ah—w-wait, fuck—"
You barely managed to utter a protest before his hand covered your mouth, muffling your cries of pleasure. Your back arched, your head thrown back as you tightened your grip on his wrist, your body writhing beneath him as your orgasm consumed you.
It lasted longer than you expected and Spencer seemed determined to push you over the edge as he shifted his attention from your cunt to your sensitive clit. His fingers withdrew momentarily, only to return with a renewed intensity, applying just the right amount of pressure.
Your senses were on overload as you moaned into his hand, the sound muffled but still audible. He worked you, over and over, and you didn't even know your body could take so much. Every stroke, every caress sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you, building up to an intensity that bordered on overwhelming.
Your legs shook uncontrollably as the sensations reached a fever pitch. It was all too much, too intense, and in a moment of desperation, you pushed his hand away. When the last tremors of your orgasm finally faded away, you collapsed back onto the desk, panting heavily, your limbs feeling like jelly.
Spencer removed his hand from your mouth, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he watched you catch your breath. “Are you okay?"
You nodded weakly. “Yeah, just… that was intense.”
“Good intense?”
“Really good intense,” you replied with a sheepish grin, which only made him smile. With shaky hands, you pushed yourself up from the desk, feeling a wave of satisfaction wash over you. As you began to dress yourself, you couldn't help but steal a glance at him—or rather, the evident bulge underneath his pants.
“That… that doesn’t look comfortable,” you remarked.
Spencer waved off your worry with a dismissive chuckle. “Don’t worry about me, I can take care of it myself.”
“Here? At work?” Your eyes widened at the implication. “I didn't know you had it in you.”
He cocked his head to the side. “That’s not what I meant. It’ll eventually go away if I ignore—stop staring at it,” he added with a laugh. “You’re not helping.”
Your gaze lingered a moment too long on his bulge. "I can think of another way to help.”
Spencer's breath caught in his throat, his imagination running wild with possibilities, but he quickly regained his composure. "Go," he said, gently nudging you towards the door once you were properly dressed. "Emily's waiting for you."
Your eyes swept over him and a wave of awkwardness suddenly washed over you. What was the protocol after experiencing the most intense orgasm of your life? Shake his hand? Give him a high-five? You couldn't help but stifle a nervous laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
After a brief moment of contemplation, you decided to trust your instincts. With a hint of hesitation, you stepped closer and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. He blinked in surprise, but before he could respond, you were already rushing to the door.
He couldn't help but smile as he watched you leave, a tingling sensation lingering on his cheek where your lips had briefly touched. But as he licked his lips absentmindedly, he couldn't shake the taste of your arousal that lingered there.
Groaning softly, he shifted uncomfortably as his mind filled with vivid images of you squirming under him; your mouth agape, eyes half-closed, your pretty legs spread apart. The memory of your moans echoed in his ears and his cock stirred in his pants.
He sighed, realizing he was in for a long day if he didn't do something about it. With a slight grimace—and the embarrassment gnawing at him for what he was about to do—he let his feet carry him to the nearest bathroom.
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for the summer recs!! written by our lovely mod kay!!
- Anon
[Kay: Thank you so much! I really appreciate it!! 💙]
A heartwrenching start for this series, where Lan Zhan has to deal with the truth regarding his mother's death, and his feelings regarding his family and brother for keeping such information from him, and being responsible for her situation, one way or another.
Personally, Lan Wangji having to deal with the pitfalls of his sect rules, philosophy and behavior is one of my favorite kinds of angst, that can be explored in some many different ways, and I would like to see more.
close the door behind me, i'm leaving
by thelastdboy (@thelastdboyy)
M, 3k, Lan Wangji
Summary: “Wangji,” his uncle began and came over to where Lan Wangji stood. “You have grown up. I am proud of the man you have become,” Lan Qiren said, unusually sentimental – another fact that made alarm bells ring inside Lan Wangji's mind. From the inside of his jacket, his uncle pulled an inconspicuous envelope and handed it to Lan Wangji. “You're old enough to learn the truth about your parents. You mother wrote this letter to you before her death. Your brother wanted me to wait a little a longer until I give this to you, but it is time,” he explained and stepped outside as well.
~*~
The follow up of Lan Wangji's turmoil surrounding his sect, brings him to Yiling, where he finds mysterious and unorthodox Wei Wuxian.
In a masterfully done transposition of the mdzx worldbuilding into a modern setting, Lan Zhan has to battle with his presumptions and prejudices and his continuous desires when it comes to Wei Wuxian ft. Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan with mentions of or favorite yiling siblings Wen Qing and Wei NIng.
An honorable mention for the author's delightful worldbuilding regarding the Burial Mounds and Wei Wuxian, which comes in various of their works and I'm always so excited to see explored.
on my wei
by thelastdboy (@thelastdboyy)
M, 23k, Wangxian & Songxiao
Summary: The driver fell silent for a moment, as if remembering something unpleasant.
“The Yiling Laozu is still driving through this area though. You're a cultivator, right? You dress like one anyway. Then maybe try to reach him. He was one too. Earned his money as a driver though. Died during the earthquake. Now he's haunting the streets. Some say, he messed around with the Burial Mounds and that caused the earthquake! I mean, aren't we unfortunate enough already here in Yiling? What are the chances that a quake hits here of all places?"
(Or: in the aftermath of an earthquake, the Burial Mounds start spreading and the cultivation world turns a blind eye, but Lan Wangji cannot.)
~*~
(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – these stories.)
#May 2024#Wangxian Fic Recs#follower recs#follower rec#mdzs#MDZS#Mo Dao Zu Shi#CQL#Chenqingling#The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation#The Untamed#Wangxian#Mature#close the door behind me i'm leaving#on my wei#thelastdboy#short fic <15k#medium fic 15k-49k#Series
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perceppy doodles, with my usual headcanons of "whatever harry's seeing showing up in the mist" and "whenever harry's not using a sense, it shows up on perception." suddenly trapped in a dark room? pop! you have eyes again! and then some froggy hat coffee tasting :3 i love my senses <3
#disco elysium#disco elysium skills#de skills#de perception#perception#voliart#emoji lookin ass (<- incredibly affectionate its so cute) <3 whoops you got locked in the closet...#react speed [Challenging: Failure] voice Aw shit. The door's completely shut behind you. You couldn't wedge a foot in or anything.#halflit voice BREAK DOWN THE DOOR GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!!!!!!#logic voice Can you wait a second? We didn't even test if we were trapped or not.#nervous perception voice The clicking of lock pins. The jangling of keys. The sound of fading footsteps.#halflit - WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY?! NOW WE'RE GOING TO DIE IN HERE. | Voli - No we aren't. Keep it together.#Composure - Don't panic. | Inland - It feels as though the walls are closing in. | Composure [Failure] - Oh fuck why would you say that.#OKAY THATS ENOUGH STOPPING THIS HERE BEFORE I WRITE A WHOLE FIC LMAO... anyway perception is so fun i love it <3#this was not what i was supposed to work on tonight but uh. oh well perception time :3c
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#you know that thing where you've seen someone act obnoxious and entitled in private#not necessarily anything instablock-worthy egregious like overtly racist fic or bullying#but the kind of weirdly entitled behavior that makes you quietly leave the room when they're around#and it's strange to see friends enthusiastically intereacting with this person when you KNOW. YOU ARE PAINFULLY AWARE.#of how they are. behind closed doors. in dms.#anyhoodle. idk man. feeling weird.#(for the record this is not any of you. literally nobody who follows me or who I follow.#just a tertiary person in the enclosure.#like the offputting guy who sits in a cube on the opposite side of my floor at work. the guy I avoid in the breakroom.)
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by you talking about makima being an abusive mother i assume you're referring to eli's excellent post about CSM's association with motherhood. please do check it out if you haven't, it's been rotting away in my brain for a while and the Chainsaw Man as a birthing device is something i'll bring up in this response.
this is a really intriguing line of inquiry, and an interesting way to think of kishibe; so i'll attempt to assimilate my thoughts on how he's positioned in this answer. this will be quite long so do bear with me:
i've talked about how Family as a concept bleeds into part two from part one. in p1, makima forms for denji a Family, and in p2, denji is handed this motherhood over nayuta.
makima as the Mother is kept and collared by the state. and thinking of chainsaw man in terms of its reproductive power can be extended to its literal reproduction of the narrative. myth and memory form themselves through regurgitation, and the CSM cuts away this chain of reproduction when it eats entire concepts. when it makes people forget. there's an already apparent connection to the Womb (makima // nayuta // denji) but the selectivity in narrative-reproduction is why its central to makima and kishibe's conflict. the war against the mother who exerts control over the child.
because kishibe is the Masculine: he teaches makima and in turn makima entrusts denji and power to him,,, he narratively affirms denji's wondering if he's still able to feel, whether he shouldn't feel sadder at himeno's death by telling us, the audience, that the best devil hunters are those who "have a few screws loose." we're painted this image of denji as a feral incomprehensible Crazy thing, but this isn't true even at this phase of the story. he mourns pochita, he empathises with power's grief at losing meowy. [there's an intriguing line of thought where you compare denji with aki along this vein too, if you think about it].
and that's why the movie date with makima is actually the effective closing of this arc -- her telling denji that he does have a heart subverts kishibe's rhetoric, and what the story tells us denji is. this is makima in her role as mama, the mother, the love that she feels and recieves and creates. incidentally, the chaotic agent that kishibe envisions coincides with makima's idealisation of the chainsaw man, apart from the part where she's expressedly affectionate towards it. and who has she been raised by except these (masculine) institutions? who taught her how and what to want?
aside but "that's a lie." // he sees makima and recognises her machinations at one level but he's never really understood her or her need for love. she tells him that she wants to save people (and this may or may not be true) but he can't really parse that, can he? and kishibe also structures and contextualises so much of the story for us, just like what makima does: what i already said about denji's chaotic self, him narrating reze's past, etc. he's an independent source of information.
because yeah: kishibe is ruthless. and people often bring up kishibe's relationship with quanxi but i don't often see them balance her "ignorance is bliss" vs. kishibe's need to have a few screws loose. we know as the audience about how quanxi actively shuts herself off, but kishibe keeps talking about leaning into this devil hunter nature. and what i think is decipherable from this dynamic is that quanxi, or at least what kishibe sees her as, is kishibe's ideal. tbh she's actually a Symbol for various different ideals, her habitation and display of her sexuality alongside her Ignorance is denji's ultimate form! and kishibe trains denji... [aside but this is why cosmo being her gf is so interesting to me. something something woman who thinks ignorance is bliss x devil who embodies the Horrors of Knowing]
kishibe blindfolding himself after her death is him transposing that ignorance onto himself. he doesn't want to see a thing -- and that's where you see that dissonance. it's not that he's beyond caring, it's how blind he is in how he does this caring.
and kishibe strains against this, he wants to cut away his relationships as contrasted with makima (and even denji) wanting to form them. and this is why makima cutting off kishibe's last tie to quanxi is so interesting because you remember: quanxi didn't accept his deal.
you have kishibe pining after quanxi and yet she's not sexually available to him, so he further isolates himself. and the forming and breaking of relationships comes back here so vividly --
aki's and power's deaths form the CSM out of denji. it's crazy and unpredictable but it doesn't challenge makima, does it? // "attacks don't work against her."
and when all is said and done, denji tells him it's love. loove. denji's the one who explains makima to kishibe. they're sitting at the bench and denji's petting the dogs while nyako, the willingly domesticated animal, twirls itself around kishibe... and kishibe handles the cat with such affection. denji tells him it's love so what does he do except hand nayuta to him??
thank you for the ask, anon!
#kishibe as fatherhood... kishibe as the expected masculine... father figures for denji are dead behind a closed door ->#ignorance is bliss and kishibe is his mentor...#crow.asks#csm#umm. also a fic rec but nerve ape by hassoutoby on ao3 does kishibe's character very well. please read it#csm meta#kishibe#chainsaw man#csm kishibe#makima#denji#quanxi#crow.txt
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Behind Closed Doors Chapter 1: The Invitation
Series: Behind Closed Doors
Fandom: The Royal Romance
Pairings for this chapter: Riley x Max, Liam x Max (he hopes)
Word Count: 916
Rating: R for mature themes
Warnings for this chapter: sex is alluded to
A/N: I teased this one a long while back. Finally had some inspiration for it, so here's the first chapter!
A/N2: This story explores a bit of relationship anarchy. Here's a link if you want to learn more.
Series Premise: Six people come together in a kaleidoscope of shifting boundaries.
My other stuff: Master List.
Riley’s eyes widened as her mouth fell open. “Wait…you want me to go to the palace with you?”
“Yeah,” Max nodded, “I need a wingman, Riley, and you’re really good at it!”
“But—”
Max took in her hesitation and a startling thought occurred to him. “Oh! Is this awkward because we…because of…”
“Oh, good god, no!” Riley threw her head back and laughed. It was a full-throated belly laugh. Her hand landed on his bicep as she leaned forward to catch her breath. “I love you, Max. Truly, deeply, madly, but as friends! You know that!”
“I know.” His fingers scratched at the freshly shorn hairline along the back of his neck as a flush raced across his face. “I just wanted to be sure…after what happened last month…”
Riley stepped closer and traced a finger across his lips. “I don’t regret it if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He shivered as her touch sent a sliver of desire sparking through him and, without much conscious thought, his arm shot out to pull her in even closer. “Does that mean we can do it again sometime?”
She laughed again as she gazed up into the cobalt-blue eyes that were as familiar to her as her own emerald-green orbs. Max had been her best friend since they met in a ridiculously overpriced private kindergarten.
Neville Van Couer, big for his age and just as disagreeable then as he was now, had yanked Max’s stuffed octopus from his arms and was holding it above his head, taunting him with it.
“Please give back Sir Inks a Lot.” Max’s trembling voice betrayed his fierce determination not to cry. “My mom gave him to me.”
“Oh, are you going to cry, little crybaby? It’s just a stupid toy. I tell you what—”
“Give it back.” A firm, uncompromising voice cut in.
Neville spun to find the interloper. His malicious grin widened when his eyes fell on the slight girl with the wispy brown hair. “And what are you going to do about it if I don’t?”
Without warning or preamble, the girl moved. She darted forward so quickly that Neville had no time to process what was happening. A sharp blow to his stomach sent him pitching forward, grabbing his midsection as the toy was ripped from his grasp.
“Here.” The girl thrust the plushie out to Max.
He wiped the moisture from his tear-streaked cheeks with one hand as he reached out for his beloved Sir Inks a Lot with the other. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She gave him a bright smile that washed all of his sadness away. “My name’s Riley. Want to play with me?”
“We can do it anytime you want.” She assured him. “It’s not like we’re not good at.”
Max smiled at the reference to their romantic and sexual past.
They had lost their virginity to each other in high school and spent six months exploring everything the other had to offer. Then Max had confessed to being bisexual and wanting to explore with other people. Primarily men. His relief when Riley had agreed to break up romantically but remain friends had been overwhelming. She was and remained the closest friend he had.
A month ago, they had gotten drunk and fallen into bed together. It had felt good, comfortable, and familiar. He loved her.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t in love with Liam and that’s why he needed her support at the upcoming Beltane Ball that the palace held every year.
His arms tightened around her. “So to be clear, you know I love you and you’re okay helping me try to get Liam’s attention?”
Her grin widened until her cheeks hurt. “Boy, yes. Did we or did we not discover relationship anarchy at the same time?”
Giddiness crashed through his chest. The idea that you could love people but still remain autonomous was brilliant enough. Add in the deconstruction of things like relationship hierarchy and mono-normativity and, well, it had been paradigm-shifting.
“Okay,” he nodded as relief washed over him. “I would never do anything to hurt you, Riley!”
“I know.” She leaned up and kissed him softly on the lips.
He melted against her for a moment, then drew back. Because he had to know for sure everything was okay between them. “Then why the hesitancy when I asked you to go to the ball with me?”
“Because I’ve never been to the palace, silly!” Her family was insanely wealthy, but not noble.
“Oh, yeah!” Max tended to forget the difference in their social status. Mainly because it didn’t matter to him. People were people and titles like Duke and Count meant nothing when it came to what kind of person someone was. After all, Neville was noble.
“Oh, yeah! I mean…what do I even wear? Do I need to know how to curtsy? What if—”
Max cut her off by jerking her back into his embrace. “Don’t worry, padawan. We have two weeks. I’ll teach you everything you need to know!”
“Great!” Riley bounced on her toes, excitement swirling through her midsection.
The palace! What an exciting adventure!
She threw her arms around him. “We could make a week of it! Go into the city. Shopping, dining, museums, the theater….”
He dipped his head toward her, his lips bare inches from hers. “Can we share a room?”
“Oh, we’re going to share a lot more than a room!” she assured him just before their lips crashed together.
#behind closed doors#trr au#trr fanfic#liam rys#drake walker#hana lee#trr poly#trr#angelasscribbles#the royal romance#choices stories you play#cfwc fics of the week#choices fic writers creations#the royal romance fanfic#choices#maxwell beaumont#riley brooks#leo rys#choices trr#choices the royal romance
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on the outside i think starop is like all cutesy and innocent but i actually think they'd be like the most sexually charged couple in existence.
#starop#throw in megastarop don't even ask what they are doing behind closed doors#writing a couple fics
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Soft
about 250 words; rated m; tagging @today-in-fic
His cheek is pressed against the cushion of her breast, soft and relaxed, tempered and home. His breath brushes against her nipple peaking roughly through the lace of her lingerie. It’s still vaguely wet from where he had sucked it into his mouth earlier, playing her with the dexterity of a maestro; the familiar ache remains but now, rather than arousing, it is comforting. His breath is steady and calm: a peace rarely found in their professional lives. Yet behind closed doors, they have drawn closer and content in their companionship. She gazes down at his head: the soft flops of his hair laying over his forehead blocks his eyes from her view, but she knows they are closed, teetering in between the sleeping and the waking in the weaves of bliss. He is only ever this calm with her this close. She doesn’t mind; he is a soothing balm for her troubled spirit too. But behind closed doors, their disquiet blurs at the edges; they feast themselves on each other's love; their souls entwine in playful laughter and gentle affection. So now, he lies with his cheek against her breast, vulnerable and curled protectively into her side. Gazing up at the ceiling, she feels the weight of his body rise and fall against hers with every breath. Her body follows his rhythm, always in sync. She breathes deeply; it’s the sweet aroma of home.
#hmmm i may write the smut that precursors this and call it behind closed doors#note to self#just a little bit of writing#need to get back into it#hope its not too abstract or repetitive#msr#the x files#xf fanfic#my fic#fox mulder#dana scully#the rolling stones cover#yeah the infamous one#sigh it gives me life#under the covers#oooo myabe i should call it that#anyway i should really sleep now#my writing
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a little sneak peek at the start of chapter 8 of Rivals on track, lovers behind closed doors (15999 words) by rainfeelswet
Pierre Gasly was seemingly the only person in that media pen noticing the looks shared between his best friend, Charles Leclerc, and the Dutch number one driver. What was that? Another few seconds of Charles being completely gone from their conversation, another few seconds during which Pierre’s words hit only the air between them and did not seem to reach Charles. But this time Pierre did notice the thing that seemed to distract the Mon��gasque and Pierre could swear it was Max Verstappen. Maybe- No, it could not be.
#lestappen#Max Verstappen#charles leclerc x max verstappen#arthur leclerc#Pierre Gasly#jos verstappen hate#carlos sainz junior#lestappen fanfiction#lestappen fic#rivals on track#lovers behind closed doors#miami gp 2023#Formula 1#Formula One#formula one fic#formula one fanfiction
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current fic editing position is 'sitting on the kitchen counter with my laptop while watching a freezer defrost' because apparently i'm the most responsible adult in a shared house full of people decades older than me
#the freezer has been leaking since before i moved in#because the drawers are so iced up that the door won't close#and no one has done anything#there is mould on the skirting board behind it#so i snapped and bullied them into letting me do it#they can't even take their stuff out because the drawers are too icy to open#so it's all going in the bin#nettle's thoughts#shared house life ain't it BUT i can at least improve it for myself#by defrosting a freezer like a fucking adult#and getting some fic editing time in while it melts!
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Behind Closed Doors: Jake Kiszka x Reader Fanfiction
Part Two
description: when your best friend asks for a favor, that being having his twin move in with you, you're hesitant. you've never really liked him, but you are struggling to meet your rent, so you oblige. who knew with time that you would become more upset with his presence, or upset with the fact you have underlying feelings for him that you don't want to face?
-the masterlist for this series-
trope: enemies to lovers x roommates au!
warnings for this series: alcohol and tobacco usage, explicit content (18+, minors dni), angst, swearing
word count: 6.4k+
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
You had dialed your work as soon as you shut your door, standing far away from the door as possible.
"Brewology Coffee House, this is Sydney." Your manager said into the phone.
"Hey, Sydney, it's y/n. Was wondering if you guys needed any help today or if I could come in and shadow you?" You ran your fingers over your mouth.
"Hi, y/n! I thought you were taking today off to help your new roommate move in. Everything okay?"
"Yeah, but I've already finished helping him get settled, so the rest of my day is free." You told her.
For a moment, there was silence from the phone.
"Well, we're fully staffed today so unfortunately you won't be needed. You can come in and shadow for me Friday night if that's okay with you!"
"Yeah, that sounds good. Still alright with me coming in tomorrow?"
You had strictly limited yourself to working doubles on four out of the five days you usually worked. Your manager was concerned about overworking you, so you always had to ask and make sure she was alright with it.
You'd recently been promoted to acting manager, as she was leaving the store in a few weeks and would have you replace her and run the place. That would mean more money and responsibility for you, along with taking the weight off your shoulders of working double shifts nearly every day.
"Yeah, but I want you to just come in during the morning. We've got a few trainees showing up tomorrow evening and I already have Justine and Mary lined up to train them. You'll be able to meet them Friday night, though!"
"Alright, yeah, sounds good. Thank you." You pressed your lips together with a nod.
"Of course, have a good night at home!" Your manager said to you and hung up the phone.
You sighed deeply, running your hand over your forehead and sliding your phone into your pocket. You were now left with a full day with Jake. You were given the unfortunate opportunity to interact with him a bit more, rather than staying locked up in your room and ignore your new roommate.
So, with the slightest bit of convincing yourself, you stepped outside of your room to see Jake setting a paper off to the side and dropping the pen.
"Looks like I have work off for the day." You clasped your hands together as you took a few steps forward towards him.
Jake swiveled around on the chair, standing up with a, "Hmph", and grabbing the papers off the island. He made his way over to you and held them in front of you with a blank face.
"That's everything. Can go ahead and give these to the landlord now." He said.
You grabbed the papers. "Thanks. You heard me, right? About having the day off."
"Oh, yeah, I did. But you'll be working tomorrow, right?" He asked you.
"Only in the morning. My manager doesn't want to overwork me - stuff like that."
"Huh," he nodded, "then I guess it's just me and you for the night then." His lips curled into a small smile.
"Unfortunately." You sighed. "But I think I'm going to head down to the landlord's apartment and give her these." You shook the papers in front of his face.
"Don't want me to come meet her? I'm sure she'd-."
"No, I can handle it myself, thanks." You walked past him, throwing on a pair of sandals you left by the door and shooting him a wave.
With these few minutes you took to walk over to the landlord's place, you had to come up with something to keep you and Jake busy, or better yet, you busy. You didn't seem to have much in common with him, so the night was bound to grow awkward as it went on. You ran through different ideas of things in your head to do, but they were minimal and didn't stick.
Your landlord had a small mailbox outside of her apartment, intended for lease papers, bills that were paid by check or cash if needed (she was quite lenient with payment methods) and other things intended for her.
After walking back to your apartment, which was on the first floor, along with the landlord's, you had entered your apartment to see Jake sprawled out on the couch. He was intently focused on his phone, but his mind seemed to be rather blank.
You rummaged through one of your kitchen drawers, finding the spare keys you had in there left from your previous roommate.
You placed them on top of the island. "I left your keys on the counter."
He gave you a short hum in response but didn't acknowledge your presence.
“Icebreakers?” You spat out.
He turned his head over the couch.
“Icebreakers?” He repeated.
“Yeah, so we could get to know each other a bit better considering we now live together.” You huffed a laugh out of nervousness.
You shut the door behind you and slipped off your sandals before making your way to the opposite end of the couch. You sat patiently, waiting for him to say something to you.
He had kept his eyes on you from the moment he turned his head to see you at the door. His phone was flat on the armrest, one arm rested on top of his phone while the other laid above the couch cushion.
“You're not going to leave me alone until I play along, huh?”
You shook your head with a smile, which caused him to sigh.
"Alright, fine." He exhaled. His hands were folded on his lap, and he began to watch his thumbs circle each other.
You sat on the couch, opposite of him and turned to him crisscross on the sofa. The bit of uncomfortable silence had surrounded you and him, and you decided to straighten your posture to release any tension you felt.
"Would you like to go first?" You offered to him.
"Well, you were the one that suggested the game." He threw his hand towards you.
"Okay," you sighed, "what's your favorite color?"
He chuckled. "That's what you want to know about me? My favorite color?" His lips rested into a teasing grin.
"You're the one that wanted me to go first!" You rolled your eyes. "What, do you have a better question?"
He clicked his teeth and took a moment to think of something to ask you. "What's your biggest fear?"
"Starting a bit deep then, huh?"
"Isn't that the point?" He folded his arms. "Answer my question."
"You didn't answer mine." You said in a faux aggravated tone.
He exhaled, looking off to the side before meeting your eyes. "Red. Now-."
"I figured it was black, considering you seem to wear it the most." You remarked.
"Okay..." He trailed off with an odd expression, as if he found it weird you had noticed that about him. "Well, you're wrong. Are you going to answer my question, or are we going to keep talking about colors?"
You pressed your lips together. He was growing upset, and in a guilty way, it satisfied you a bit. With his seemingly careless attitude, he never showed signs of letting things bother him. So, getting under his skin a bit always felt like a win to you, as childish as it may sound.
"My biggest fear is probably dying. Second is spiders." You nodded.
"Have you ever heard the phrase, 'life is short'? Does that scare you?"
"You're annoying, you know that?" You shook your head. "What's your biggest fear then, since you don't seem to be scared of anything?"
"Losing family and friends. It's inevitable, but I'm definitely not looking forward to that day."
"You have a good relationship with your family then, huh?" You resituated yourself, pulling your legs to your chest and wrapping your arms around your knees.
"Yeah, I do. I mean, I've always been super close with Josh. But I guess that just comes from us being twins. We're kind of supposed to be close." He gave you a shrug. "What's your dream job?"
"I'm surprised you're asking a good question." You huffed a laugh through your nose. "I've always wanted to own my own business. A bakery, to be specific. I used to bake all the time with my mom when I was little, and sometimes my work lets me bake some treats for open mic nights on the weekends. But I just haven't had the time to do it in a while."
He hummed. "Why haven't you started your own business then?"
"Too scared of failing, I suppose. Maybe I'll go to school and get a business degree, but it seems unlikely." You shrugged.
"Are you not good at baking? Is that why you're scared of failing?"
"No," you rolled your eyes, "I'm more concerned about not making any profit. Putting myself into a deep hole of debt." You rested your chin on your knees.
"I'd like to be the judge of that - of your baking, I mean."
You quirked your eyebrows in confusion. Whether it was playful banter or not, he seemed to be acting kind towards you. It was foreign territory, but you didn't mind it. Although, it did make you wonder when the arguing would start, or when your face would start to burn out of annoyance. But there was no point in putting your energy into those negative thoughts. Things were going well, and you wanted to keep it that way.
"Are you some sort of food critic?" Your lips curled into a small grin.
"I dunno, maybe. I like cooking - always have, so."
"I would've never guessed." You chuckled. "Is that a hobby of yours?"
"Yeah, I guess. I don't think it counts as a hobby when I do it all the time."
"Does that mean I'll be getting homemade meals from now on?" You widened your eyes.
"Eh, I usually cook for myself. If you start being a bit nicer to me, maybe I'll consider it." He shrugged. He stood up from the couch with his palms pressed flat on his thighs.
"I think me giving you a place to stay is nice enough. A good meal would be a great housewarming gift." You said in a singsong tune.
He turned his head over to you. He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it into a small smile and left you in the living room alone. If all you could get out of him were a few small facts, you considered the small conversation a successful one.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
While Jake stayed locked inside his room, you took the liberty of having your day off to meet Josh for lunch. You debated the idea of whether or not to invite Jake, but keeping the conversations short with him were the only way you figured you two could tolerate each other.
While you sat outside at the small restaurant, sipping on your water cup, you checked your phone. You had left your phone number on the dry erase board that sat on your refrigerator door for Jake in case of any emergencies. You didn't expect him to text you, nor did you expect him to see it while you were out. You were waiting from a response from Josh, who did text you letting you know he was on his way. But that was about 30 minutes ago, and "Josh time" was very different from normal time.
Josh was a bit late, per usual, so you ordered the both of you a house salad and waited patiently for his arrival.
"Sorry for running late. Lost track of time." He said in a rushed tone, taking a seat and immediately grabbing the glass of water that sat in front of him.
"I'm not surprised, but 20 minutes has to be some sort of new record." You giggled.
"I'm always beating my records, what can I say?" He shined a toothy grin. "How's living with Jake so far?"
"Surprisingly, no complaints. It started a bit rocky, but I think we're getting somewhere good. Learned a bit about him, and he was actually acting nice to me. Not really talking about himself like he usually does."
"Dare I say that I told you so?" He wiggled his eyebrows at you.
"Whatever. This is only the beginning to a very long journey." You widened your eyes to emphasize your words.
"Well, what did you learn about him? Anything good?"
"Nothing too interesting, other than that he likes cooking. Never expected that." You shrugged.
"Oh yeah, he's big on cooking. You know, when we were little, he used to stay up all night watching cooking shows?" His eyes lit up as he spoke about his brother, boasting about him and his "hidden" talent. "He's actually very good at it."
"Well, now I'm curious: what other secret factoids about him are there that I don't know about?"
"There's a lot, but I think it's his place to tell you all those things. I think that's kind of the point when you're getting to know someone." He cocked his head to the side. "And besides, I'm sure you'd want to know what he dislikes so you can bother him and drive him out of your apartment."
You laughed. "I'm not that mean. What kind of person would I be if I made him feel miserable, which would cause him to act the same way towards me? If I want to keep on tolerating him, I have to keep our conversations sweet and short."
Josh began to speak, but the waitress came out and brought you both of your salads. He thanked her graciously and picked up his fork.
"He may seem a bit quiet, while I seem like the talkative one. But, once you get to know him a bit better, he holds a pretty good conversation." He stabbed a piece of lettuce with his fork and shoved it into his mouth.
"You seem a bit more excited about the living arrangement than me." You said and began eating.
You two continued to talk over lunch, about any upcoming events in his life and yours. You didn't have much, of course, but you always enjoyed hearing about the various projects Josh was working on. Picking at his brain was always satisfying to you, and while you loved talking, you preferred to listen while he spoke.
He offered to stop by the apartment, but you insisted on him heading home instead of making the short drive over to your place. With the small progress you were making with Jake, you figured keeping him by himself for a short period of time would allow the progression of yours and his's relationship to continue down a path of positive growth.
You entered your apartment to see grocery bags lined up on the counter. Jake was exiting the small pantry you had, going into another bag and not noticing that you had entered or choosing to ignore your presence.
"Restocking my fridge and pantry?" You said.
He didn't respond to you, rather kept his continuous motions of unloading different foods into the fridge.
"I didn't know if you wanted to go out to lunch with me, so sorry for not asking." You spoke again. You tried to keep your tone light, despite how his ignorance began to bother you.
"Did you go out with Josh?" He kept his eyes on a small clear bag of fruit he pulled out of a bag.
"Yeah, it was just a small lunch. We try to meet up once a week, if not twice." You nodded.
"Something going on between you two?" He raised his brow, opening the fridge and placing the assortment of fruits in a small drawer.
"It's not like that - it never was. We're just really good friends."
He shut the fridge door and continued unpacking different foods and spices. "If you say so."
"I'm serious, Jake. We've always just been super close." You said with slight aggravation in your voice.
"How long have you known him for?" He threw away the grocery bags as he talked to you.
"For about a year or so. We met at a concert, actually. Why are you being so curious?"
He nodded with a hum, placing his hand on the island and leaning his full weight onto it. "Just making conversation. You're so defensive." He teased at you with a shrug. "Am I not allowed to get to know you anymore?"
"You're getting to know me and Josh's past. That's a bit different." You pointed at him. "Try asking me questions that pertain to me, not your brother."
"Maybe another time." He tapped his hand on the counter and began to walk away in the opposite direction. "I don't see the point when you're not opening up."
There it was. The stinging sensation that started at your neck and ran to your ears. You were waiting for it to arise; the unfortunate conversation that would tank the seemingly good path you two were on.
"Opening up? I'm making the effort to try and get to know you so living with you isn't unbearable. I'm sorry that I was getting bothered with you trying to make assumptions about me and Josh." You dug your finger into your chest.
He swiveled on his heels to face you. "Then why'd you let me live with you then? It's not even been a day and you've deemed the living arrangement as unbearable because I was just kidding around." He threw his hands up. "Were you that desperate for a roommate?"
You opened your mouth, struggling to speak. Was there a point in continuing this argument and digging the knife deeper into your guys' relationship? Everything began to look hopeless from this point on, and your doubts once again consumed you.
He decided to speak up before giving you a chance to utter anything. "Think you should try and be a bit grateful for the way things turned out instead of regretting your decisions." He grumbled at you with squinted eyes.
He left you in the kitchen and walked into his bedroom. Once the door was shut, you exhaled a deep exaggerated sigh. You circled around the space you stood in with your hand placed on your forehead. Your emotions flamed into your system, gripping tightly at your insides and burning your entire body. You didn't just want to storm into your room and sit in your frustrations, so you chose to allow yourself to run a bath in the connecting bathroom to your bedroom. Hopefully, this would bring you relaxation.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
Wrapping your damp body in a grey towel, you stepped out of your bathtub and began searching through your dresser drawers for some comfortable clothes to wear for the night. The apartment was quiet, and for a moment, you were at peace. As in, you forgot Jake was right next door, and you weren't actually alone. The faintest smell of food cooking hit your nostrils, causing you to perk up. It was around dinner time, and maybe Jake had cooked something for the both of you.
Your door flew open, and you immediately clutched your towel against your figure in case you weren't as covered up as you thought. Your heartbeat rang into your ears, with your body tensing up to see Jake in your doorway.
"Do you ever knock?" You groaned. You shot him a stern look, then began to pull out a pair of sweatpants from your drawer.
"You never listed that as one of your rules, y/n." He leaned against the doorframe with folded arms.
"That's an unspoken one. It's a privacy thing, Jake. I mean, what if I was indecent?" You set the grey-washed pants on top of your dresser.
"Well, you weren't. But it won't happen again." He threw up his hands in defense, then folding them again.
"Alright, now that we have that cleared, can you get out? Please?"
"Fine," he leaned off of the doorframe, "you're a bit angry tonight, aren't you?"
"You scared the shit out of me, so I'm a bit tense. Do you blame me?"
"Did you forget that I live here now?" He stepped into your room.
You watched his movements. He didn't come over to you, but instead decided to wander around your room that he had yet to discover fully. The new environment seemed to intrigue him, but that could be him playing the role in trying to get under your skin once again.
"I tried to. I miss the silence." You turned around to see him holding a picture frame that sat at your bedside. You immediately walked over to him and grabbed it out of his hand to place it back in its rightful spot. "But, if you would please-."
"Is that your family?" He pointed to the picture.
You flicked your eyes down to see you in the middle of your parents in the photograph. You were about sixteen in that photo, with shiny teeth flashing into a smile. Your brother was next to your father, while your little sister was hugging onto your mom. "Yeah, that was during a trip we took to Hawaii." You began to notice the visible tan that you worked on, accompanied by your bright, burned red cheeks from the unforgiving sun. You let yourself remember the moment, surrounding yourself in the tropical background that was captured in the background. It was a memory that you always were fond of.
"How old are your siblings?" He pointed at your brother and sister.
"My brother is 17, and my sister is 13. I'm the oldest." You nodded.
You tore your attention of the photo and met Jake's eyes immediately. Something you quickly learned with him is that if you concentrated hard enough, you would forget you were talking to him, in the sense that you never thought he'd care about someone's life other than his own. Although, now remembering it was him who stood before you, you were filled with that gut feeling of irritation. It was something that you were unable to stop, and you weren't quite sure why you couldn't push it away. But with his body mere inches from yours, you chose to break the proximity and walk to your closet behind him.
"Are we done playing 20 questions? I'd like to change, now."
"Excuse me for trying to take your advice." He turned his body towards you. You flicked through your shirts to find one comfortable enough for the night.
He began to stride out of your room after you kept your silence, but as soon as he reached the door, you spoke up. "Did you cook something?"
He sighed, turning around to you. "Yup. Hungry?"
A faint smile hit your lips. "Made enough for me?"
"Oh, no. Was just wondering if that's why you asked." He smirked at you. He grabbed the door handle, giving you a wave with his fingers and shutting the door softly.
You threw your head back and blinked up to the ceiling for a moment. All that progress for nothing, you thought.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
You shot up from your slumber to the sound of silence filling the air. You checked the time in case you had missed your alarm only to find you were early by 30 minutes. What had woken you up at 7:30 in the morning?
And then you heard the wailing of a guitar, barely muffled by the thin walls that divided yours and Jake's bedroom. With an aggravated huff, you threw yourself out of your bed and stormed to Jake's room.
You knocked loudly enough for him to hear over his guitar, waiting a few moments for him to answer.
"Come in!" He yelled.
You flung the door open with squinted eyes. The morning sun covered your sight, and you brought the back of your hand to cover the blazing light shined onto your face to see Jake sitting on the edge of his bed.
"Can you keep it down a bit? Especially in the morning? You woke me up before my alarm for work was supposed to go off."
He pulled his pic out from his teeth and placed it in his fingers. "Told you to invest in a pair of earplugs."
"I shouldn't need to wear them to sleep because you decide to turn your amp all the way up for the neighbors to hear." You said. "If you read the papers you were signing, you'd know that quiet hours end at 8 AM, which it is not."
"You're just a ray of sunshine in the morning, aren't you?" He pulled his eyebrows together.
"Turn it down, please." You pressed.
He widened his eyes at you for a moment, then turned the knob on his amp to a lower volume.
"Thank you." You said in your best polite tone. "Why are you up so early playing anyways?"
He sighed, standing up and setting his guitar down into a stand he had set up in the corner of his room. For a moment, his figure covered the sun, and you were able to see his bare back, along with the plaid drawstring pants that hugged at his hips.
He turned to you. "Just woke up early, I guess. I like playing in the mornings to start my day. I've got a gig coming up, so I always like to make sure I'm targeting my weak points and fixing them before I get on stage."
You nodded. "Well, you can play a little bit quieter. Don't they have headphones designed to plug into amps?"
"I don't have a pair." He scratched at his head.
"Well, maybe you should invest in a pair." You lightly mimicked him. "I'm leaving for work in about an hour and a half. So, do what you want with that information."
You shut the door behind you and left to your kitchen to start on breakfast.
You quickly made yourself toast with jam, not quite examining the new products that filled your fridge. You decided to take a look when you got home, but your main priority was to just eat and wash the exhaustion off your body.
With your extra time on hand, you allowed yourself to take a longer shower than normal. Feeling the hot water trickle down your body as you scrubbed your hair with shampoo and conditioner, then turning your back to the showerhead to allow wash it all out. Relaxation overtook your body, and although that was a telltale sign that you weren't helping yourself wake up, you didn't care to dismiss the hot water and make it a bit cooler. The steam coming from the shower and fogging up the mirror in your bathroom was the perfect aroma for you as you washed your body clean and stood for a few moments to soak up just as much time as you could without wasting it under the water.
You made sure to lock your door as soon as you got out of the shower and stepped foot into your bedroom, then began to get dressed. You were thankful with how laid-back your coffee house was, which allowed you to wear a black sleek skirt and a tight white top with nonslip shoes. You went light on your makeup today, only covering up any blemishes on your skin and layering your lashes with mascara.
You checked the time on your phone, and you figured it wouldn't kill you to be early to work. Your hair was blow-dried and up in a tight ponytail, so you considered yourself ready enough and left without saying a word to Jake.
You saw Stacie at the counter, talking to your manager and turning her head over her shoulder to see you.
"We've got a lot to talk about, don't we?" She said with a sweet smile.
"Lots." You widened your eyes.
After you clocked in, greeted your manager and tied your small apron around your waist, you walked to Stacie and grabbed her wrist.
"I don't know how to win with him, Stace. There will be instances where everything is fine, having a good light-hearted conversation. And then, annoyance just builds up in my body and we start to argue. It's not like we're just teasing each other, it's more like siblings fighting over nothing. I just don't get it."
She bit back a grin. "It's only been a day and he's that bad, huh?"
"Well, I mean it's not terrible. Just...hard." You sighed. "But I'm going to stay hopeful and consider the positives over the negatives."
"So, you've made some progress? Well, that's good!" She nodded quickly with a smile.
"Barely." You leaned your hand onto the counter.
"Well, like I said, it's only been a day. I'm sure with time you guys will grow a beautiful friendship." She exaggerated with her hands.
"Ha, ha. We'll see. My hours will get cut as soon as I become manager because I'll be getting paid more to work, so no more avoiding him because I have to be here." You threw up your hand. "But I guess if he's living with me, then I should be able to tolerate him more than I do now."
"Well, what kind of progress did you make with him? Learn anything interesting about him?" She wiggled her brows.
"He likes cooking and he's close with his family. That's pretty much it. Oh, and his favorite color is red."
"How'd you learn that his favorite color was red?" She giggled.
"I asked him to play a game of icebreakers after I took his papers to the landlord. I didn't know what else to ask him, in my defense." You pressed your hand flat on your chest.
"What interests me most is that he's a cook. That makes any man a bit more attractive." She pointed at you.
"His personality cancels anything out that might make him slightly attractive. Josh told me that he was a different person when you're alone with him, and right when I think I can believe that he becomes the same person I've known."
She walked away from you to the coffee grinder. "What about starting over?"
"What?" You turned your body in her direction.
"You know, saying, 'hey, why don't we forget about our past and redo our first impressions?'" She shrugged. "It's not a bad idea, y/n."
"Maybe I should give it a few more days before I tell him he needs to reintroduce himself to me. I'm a firm believer in change, you know."
"You say that, but I think you're quite set on the fact that Jake will never change his ways."
You rolled your eyes. She was right. "So, from now on, I'm changing my mindset on him. Does that sound good to you?"
"Well, it benefits you, so yeah, it sounds like a plan. Try a breathing exercise or something next time he gets on your nerves and keep yourself cool and collected. I'm sure he feeds on your anger."
You scrunched your face at her choice of words. "That's one way to state it. He just reminds me of my little brother, always getting on my nerves."
She turned to you with a cup of coffee, placing it on the counter and pushing it out to a customer who sat at one of the barstools. "Then," she looked to you, "change your viewpoint on him. He's your roommate, not your brother."
You shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose so." You released your words with a sigh.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
You got off of work a little after lunch hour, so you weren't surprised to see Jake sitting at the island in the kitchen with an empty plate.
He lifted his eyes to you. "I was just about to call you."
You gave him a confused look. "Why?"
"Nice sentiment of you to leave your phone number on the fridge by the way," he nodded towards the dry erase board, "but I was thinking about grabbing a cup of coffee."
You set your purse onto the island after slipping off your shoes and walked over to your cabinets. "Promise me you'll never come visit me while I'm working."
He chuckled. "Why not? Are you embarrassed or something?"
You began to fill your glass with water from the fridge. "Because I don't see a point in you coming to my work for coffee when there are a ton of other places you could go to."
"Well, what if I want to visit my roommate hard at work?" He leaned over his plate towards you. "I wouldn't want to miss an opportunity to see you in that little outfit." He pointed at your work clothes.
You tugged your skirt down after setting your cup of water down. "Shut up. Your actions are usually filled with malicious intent."
"What kind of guy do you take me for? I'm harmless." He placed his hand over his heart.
You rolled your eyes. "Sure, but you annoy me. I'd like to have a bit of peace and quiet while I'm at work, since I won't be able to get it in my own home anymore."
He grabbed his plate and walked over to the sink. "Is this about me waking you up? You still hung up on that?"
You pressed your tongue into your cheek. Deep breaths, you thought, be more approachable.
"I would just like an apology, that's all. I guess I overreacted a bit this morning. I'm not much of a morning person."
He chuckled as he placed his plate into the dishwasher. "Nor am I. I like staying up late. Don't usually wake up early." He shrugged. "I'm sorry, though, for waking you up. I'll be a bit more mindful of you next time."
"Good to know you're thinking of others for once." You said with playful sarcasm. "And thanks for apologizing."
"You're so very welcome, sunshine." He said with a coy grin.
You groaned at the nickname. "Don't make that a thing."
"I think it's got a ring to it. And it's a bit ironic considering you're not really a ray of sunshine."
"Oh, and you are?" You picked up your glass.
He pretended to be in thought for a moment, lifting his chin up and pressing his lips together. "Yeah, yeah I think I am. I mean, I'm a bit more enjoyable to be around than you are."
You scoffed a bitter laugh. "You hold yourself on a high horse, you know that?"
"Well, I prefer to be confident in myself than not. Is that so bad?" He looked at you with slight confusion.
"It becomes a bad thing when you appear to be vain." You took a sip from your water and began to leave the room.
"Was that your first impression of me? Vain?" He called.
You exhaled deeply. "Yes."
You continued your steps towards your bedroom, but that didn't stop Jake from talking.
"I remember meeting you. I didn't think you were too bad. Thought you were quite nice, actually."
You turned on your heels with both hands wrapped around your cup. "Do you still think that?"
"No," he said with a grin plastered on his face, "you're aggravating."
"That's because I was annoyed with you boasting about how much of an amazing guy you were. Those kinds of things don't impress me." You nodded your head at him.
"Really? And here I thought you were head over heels for me." He teased at you with squinted eyes.
"You're funny, I'll give you that." You laughed.
He walked from the island, making his way to you with his hands shoved in his pockets. "Are you being nice to me?" He said with playful shock.
"Soak it up, Jake. Me being nice to you is going to be very rare. I still don't like you." You quirked your brows.
"Well, then I guess I'll take your very rare compliment with gratitude." He stopped in front of you. "You'll have to come around someday if you want to make living with me less 'unbearable'."
"On second thought, I think I'll just continue being bitter to you, you know, since you seem to thrive on annoying me." You cocked your head to the side.
"You might be right about that." He smirked. "But I find you somewhat difficult, so pushing you over the edge is entertaining to me."
You rolled your eyes. "And I’m the difficult one?"
"You know you didn't have to agree to this," he motioned between the both of you with his fingers, "but you did. I wasn't eager to live with you either. But I chose to be the bigger person and suck it up because in the long run, it benefits the both of us." He gave you a faint shrug. "Are we done talking about this now?"
You exhaled deeply. You wanted to push back at him, eat him out with all the anger that was built up in your body. But what was the point in being stubborn? What made you more frustrated was how true his words are. You didn't have to let him move in with you, but you did because it would help you out financially and rid you of your constant fatigue. You didn't want to pack up your things and downsize, because after all, you were attached to your apartment. You loved how it was spacious yet felt like a cozy home. And, at the end of the day, Jake was just merely a guy crashing in the room right next to yours.
You didn't need to continue the conversation any longer, so you turned away from him as a silent response and walked into your bedroom.
After shutting the door behind you, you set your water cup on your bedside table and plopped into your firm mattress. It was hard to change your mindset on Jake, despite your optimism. You couldn't force him to be a different person, so you'd have to do the same thing as him to keep yourself sane: suck it up, and let things be the way that they are. If you were unable to see him in a different light, then so be it. But that's no reason for you to act out in immaturity and make him feel miserable in his new home.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
-part three-
series taglist: @jakekiszkasmommy @anythingforjtk @gold-mines-melting @twistedmelodies @ageofhearingloss @classicsneverdie @lmaooharry @raviolilegs @mydarlingdanny @iheartjakekiszka @edtvdf @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @gvf23 @flo-gvf @madneedshelp @carlyfleet @pinkunicornsandbluecows @joshysgirl @jasminesworldd
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#greta van fleet#josh kiszka#danny wagner#jake kiszka#danny gvf#sam kiszka#josh gvf#sammy kiszka#jake gvf#sam gvf#behind closed doors fanfic#behind closed doors#behind closed doors fic#behind closed doors fanfiction#behind closed doors part two#jake kiszka series#jake kiszka fanfic#jake kiszka fic#jake kiszka fanfiction#jake kiszka x reader#jake kiszka x you#jake kiszka x y/n#gvf x reader#greta van fleet x reader#gvf smut#jake kiszka fluff#jake kiszka smut#jake kiszka x enemies to lovers#jacob thomas kiszka#josh kiszka fic
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Behind Closed Doors 2
Part one
You welcome Spencer back to the team with a special gesture of your own—and find yourself falling even harder for him after he opens up to you.
Warnings: (18+ MDNI) sub older spence my beloved, handjob, oral (m), spit kink?, semi-public (they are FREAKY), and idk if we can call this angst but we get to know how he feels about returning to work ~3.9k words
A/n: I didn’t plan for a part two, but rewriting scenes with specific looks of him is growing on me. Also, this happens before Emily tells him to teach seminars on his leave. And tell me what you think!!
He looked good in pink.
That was an understatement, the man looked good in pretty much anything. But today? Something was different. Something looked different. His whole appearance seemed to be on point than usual. You noticed his typically tousled hair was styled and swept back, which was a very rare sight, and it was hard for you to look away.
“…as you have obviously heard, Dr. Spencer Reid has been fully reinstated,” Emily announced, snapping you back to reality. “Welcome back, Spence.”
“Whoo-hoo! Yes!” Penelope cheered, only to be met by Emily’s pointed look. “That’s not the end, is it?”
Your boss shook your head and then proceeded to continue with another announcement. You stole a glance towards him again.
Maybe it was just really his shirt that made him look good? It wasn't even overly tight, but snug enough to accentuate the lines of his broad shoulders. Has his shoulders always been that wide? Now that you think about it, he did seem to be putting on a little weight. Not that it was a bad thing, and not that you didn't like how he looked before, but you couldn't help noticing how he filled out his shirt, and for some reason, it was doing something to you.
Probably more than something because now you wondered what other places he filled out.
A sudden round of applause filled the room, and you joined in, tearing your gaze away from him only to find Matt Simmons grinning at you. You looked away and followed everyone as they shuffled around the room, making sure to sit as far away from Spencer as possible, although luck wasn't on your side when Matt settled into the seat beside you.
"You don't seem too thrilled about me joining the team," he murmured, leaning in close.
“What do you mean? I’m always open to new faces around here.”
“Not as excited as having an old member back, though,” Matt remarked, prompting you to snap your head at him, a slight frown forming on your face. He winked teasingly, and you groaned, shoving his shoulder away.
“Ugh, do not wink at me.”
His laughter filled the air, but it quickly faded as the atmosphere in the room turned serious. Penelope began briefing everyone on the new case, and you did your best to mask your grimace every time a gruesome picture flashed on the screen. By the time Emily called out, “Wheels up in thirty,” you rose from your seat.
To talk to him or not talk to him?
You weighed the pros and cons, sneaking a quick glance at Spencer, who was deeply absorbed in studying the case files. The logical part of your brain told you it wasn't the best time to strike up a conversation, especially with only thirty minutes left until you had to leave. But there was something about him, it felt almost instinctual, like you were naturally drawn to him, and like a magnetic force, you couldn't resist.
Oh, fuck it—you decided to approach him.
Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you made your way over to where he was sitting, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in your stomach.
"Hi.”
"Hey," he greeted, looking up with a small smile at the corners of his lips. "What's up?"
“Can I talk to you for a moment?”
"Sure," Spencer replied, his expression curious yet amused. He set aside the files he had been studying and turned his attention fully to you.
“In private?”
There was a brief pause, and you swore you could practically cut the tension with a knife. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he rose from his seat, his gaze never wavering from yours. You tilted your head back to look at him as his presence seemed to fill the room,and you couldn't help but hold your breath as you waited for his response.
“Of course,” he finally agreed, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer before he turned, leading the way to a more secluded spot, past the bullpen, past the glass doors, and down the hallway.
Once you were both out of earshot, he leaned in. “How private are we talking about?”
You nudged his side before guiding him towards the nearest office. As you stepped inside, your heart pounded in your chest, and you quickly glanced around the room to make sure it was empty. When you confirmed it was unoccupied, you turned back to see Spencer closing the door behind him.
Then everything snapped.
You weren't sure who made the first move, whether it was you or both of you acting on instinct, but before you could process it, his lips were on yours, his arms pulling you close, tongue colliding with your own. You gasped at his eagerness and wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you pressed yourself against him.
With a boldness you didn’t know you possessed, you pushed him against the nearest wall, your hands tangling in his hair as his hands found their way to your ass, squeezing lightly. A soft moan escaped your lips and he responded by deepening the kiss further. It felt like time stood still as you lost yourself in the heat of his mouth against yours, until you finally pulled back, your lips brushing against his jaw.
“What…” He gasped when your mouth trailed lower. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I don’t know,” you groaned into his neck, his scent filling your senses. Why did he have to smell so good? “I think it’s your hair.”
“My… hair?”
You pulled back slightly, your fingers tracing along the collar of his shirt, your eyes roaming over the exposed skin of his chest where the top buttons were left undone. “Or maybe it’s the shirt.”
“My shirt?”
“Yes!” You half-exclaimed, half-whispered, trying to keep your voice down. “I think I’m ovulating and you’re not helping.”
Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, a flush creeping up his neck as he processed your words. "Oh," he managed to say. “I didn't expect that.”
"Sorry," you apologized, feeling your cheeks warm with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to—”
But before you could say anything else, his expression softened, and his grip on your hips tightened. "Hey, it's okay," he reassured you. “It’s common for women to experience changes in their hormones during ovulation. It's completely natural and nothing to be embarrassed about."
You looked up at him, your hands sliding down his chest. “Yeah?”
He nodded. “Yes, it’s just your body doing its thing,” he said reassuringly. "And honestly, it's kind of flattering to know that... I have that effect on you."
A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as your palms drifted lower. “What else do you know about this stuff?”
“Well, around the time of ovulation, a woman's body produces more estrogen, which can increase libido—”
His breath hitched when his eyes fell on your hand resting over his pants.
“What?” you prompted, a playful glint in your eye. “Why did you stop?”
Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly as he met your gaze. "I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I was just going to mention that… increased estrogen levels during ovulation can also lead to heightened sensitivity in erogenous zones—”
But his words trailed off into a sigh as you palmed his arousal over his pants, feeling the hardness beneath your touch. He was undeniably aroused, and the way he responded to your touch only fueled you even more. With a mischievous grin, you ran your palm up and down his length, feeling him throb in response before letting out a playful giggle.
You didn’t realize it would be this fun to be the one doing the teasing.
“Tell me more, Spence.”
He swallowed hard before managing to speak. "W-Well,” he stammered. "Increased estrogen levels can also... enhance blood flow to certain areas, leading to heightened sensitivity and... uh, increased pleasure—”
But before he could finish his sentence, you applied a little more pressure, causing him to let out a low groan of pleasure. His words faltered, his focus shifting entirely to the delicious sensation of your hand stroking him. Your eyes traveled down, watching the way his cock pressed against the fabric of his pants, noting how thick and hard he was.
But as your gaze lingered, you caught sight of the time on your watch, and reality came crashing back in. You reluctantly pulled your hand away from him, and Spencer blinked at your sudden withdrawal, his desire-clouded mind trying to focus on you.
“What's wrong?” He whispered. “Why did you stop?”
“I… I kind of got carried away, I’m sorry," you noted. "We should probably get back before they start to wonder where we are."
He went still, and so did you. The room’s air conditioner hummed softly, filling the silence as you both simply stared at each other. When he didn’t respond, you slowly backed away and moved toward the door, but his grip on your arm stopped you. You turned towards him, eyebrows raised while he seemed to hesitate to say the next words.
After a moment, he sighed, his gaze softening as he finally found the words he was looking for.
“The other day, after we… you know,” he emphasized, and you nodded, urging him to continue. “I had to deal with this myself.”
His eyes flicked over the bulge in his pants and you stifled a laugh, amused at his sudden fluster. “Yeah, you said you were going to ignore it.”
“I didn’t,” he replied. “I couldn’t.”
“And?”
“And…” he hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a moment before meeting yours again.
There was a moment of silence until you realized what he was implying. You gasped, the hand he wasn’t holding covering your mouth in shock. “Here?” you asked in disbelief. “At work?”
His cheeks flushed, but he nodded sheepishly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “In the bathroom.”
“Spencer,” you exclaimed in a hushed tone, “That’s...”
“I know, I know,” he cut in, his tone self-deprecating. “But in my defense, it was all your fault.”
You giggled. “Me? I barely touched you!”
"Exactly, but it was enough to drive me crazy,” he said, and when he saw you laughing, he gave you a deadpanned look. “It’s not funny.”
“Oh come on, it kind of is.” You shook your head in amusement. “Why are you telling me this?”
He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “Because I don’t want to leave this room and deal with it by myself again.”
Your eyebrows shot up. “Is this your way of asking me to touch you?”
His eyes widened almost cartoonishly wide, the flush creeping up his cheeks contrasting against the paleness of his skin, making his reaction all the more apparent.
“Please?”
You couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at your lips. “Spencer, we only have…” You glanced over your watch. “Fifteen minutes left.”
“I can probably finish in five.”
You bit your bottom lip. How did you end up in this predicament all over again? Although this time, you felt like you had the upper hand, and somehow, it was strangely exciting to see him so affected, to have him practically begging for your touch when you were supposed to be in a hurry.
He looked at you expectantly. How could you say no when his eyes were wide and pleading?
“You know what?” You turned to him fully, taking a step forward. “I think you deserve it. It’s your first day back, after all.”
Before you could second guess yourself, you reached for him again. His breath hitched slightly as you undid his belt and slowly lowered the zipper of his pants. His arousal strained against the fabric and you briefly met his gaze. Without a word, you slid your hand inside his pants, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.
He felt full in your hand and painfully hard. When his response was nothing but his ragged breathing, you reached for the waistband of his briefs with your other hand, pulling down slightly until his cock was freed from its confines.
“Spence, you’re so…” Your voice trailed off, eyes fixated on him. The tip was thick and bulbous, a deeper shade than the shaft where pulsing veins ran up the long length. You were mesmerized by his size; it wasn’t too big nor too small, just perfect.
“You’re so pretty.”
His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he looked back at you. “You think so?”
You nodded, feeling the heat and the weight of him in your grasp. A droplet of wetness glistened on the tip, and unable to resist, your thumb brushed along it, earning a sharp intake of breath from him as his hips instinctively bucked against your touch. With a newfound confidence, you wrapped your hand around him, feeling his hardness pulsating against your palm.
The skin was soft as you’d expected, warm to the touch, but his length was stiff and throbbing when you squeezed. If you stayed still, you were sure you could count his heartbeat. As your hand moved up and down tentatively, trying to take in every detail of his member, you couldn’t believe you were finally feeling each vein that bulged up his shaft.
“Do you mind if I spit on it?”
He let out a low groan, his head falling back against the wall. “No.”
“Really? Coming from someone who’s germaphobic?” You smiled amusedly. "I thought you'd be more concerned about hygiene."
"I'll make an exception for this."
You couldn't help but laugh at his response. Trusting your instincts, you craned your neck down and let the liquid spill from your mouth, coating his tip in a steady flow. Your saliva glistened in the light, slowly trickling down the length of his cock. Then you began to stroke him gently, you felt him respond eagerly, his breaths growing heavier and his hips rocking gently against your hand.
His head fell back against the wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “God, that feels…”
Feeling a surge of pride at his reaction, you couldn’t resist teasing him further. “Is this how you touched yourself in the bathroom?”
He swallowed hard, his breath hitching as he met your gaze.
“Were you thinking of me?” You pressed on. “Did you imagine me touching you like this?”
His response was barely a whisper, but you caught it. “Yes…”
His breath was warm against your face, and you looked up, taking in the way he was looking at you through half-lidded eyes, lips parted as soft moans slipped out of his mouth. Who would’ve thought he made the prettiest sounds? You knew he was trying to keep his voice down, but the sight of him struggling to suppress his pleasure only made it more thrilling.
“Or did you imagine me getting on my knees, taking you in my mouth?” you teased, your voice low and sultry as you traced your tongue along your bottom lip. “Did you picture yourself deep inside of me, how tight and wet I would be?”
His forehead dipped until it was resting against yours, breaking the self-control he was desperately trying to maintain. “Oh god—I-I can’t hold it any longer.”
Your response was simply to increase your speed, your fist moving in fast short strokes up his leaking cock. He was slick with arousal, and you focused your attention on the sensitive tip, prompting even louder sounds of pleasure from him.
“Wait—" he gripped your wrist, forcing you to stop. “I’m so close.”
You frowned, watching the conflict play out in his expression. "I thought you wanted this?"
“I know, it’s just—“ His brows furrowed, a hint of desperation in his eyes as he struggled to maintain control. Then, with a defeated sigh, he admitted, “I don’t want to make a mess.”
You scanned the room, your mind racing for a solution. The office offered no privacy, and there was nothing around to help clean up the mess he would definitely make, so you needed a different approach.
Without hesitation, you got down on your knees.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing?”
“You’re gonna—” he gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. “I can’t let you do that.”
“Shh,” you hushed, lightly hitting his thigh. “Just help me hold my hair up.”
He hesitated for a moment, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable. Slowly, he reached out, gathering your hair in his hands. You felt the warmth of his fingers against your scalp, his touch gentle yet firm. You leaned in, your mouth hovering just inches from his swollen tip as you glanced up, meeting his eyes one last time before you took him into your mouth.
The taste of him was intoxicating, and you could feel every twitch and throb as you wrapped your lips around him. His grip on your hair tightened, a guttural moan escaping his lips, your tongue swirling around his tip, tasting the salty bead of arousal that had formed there. His hips bucked involuntarily, and you took him deeper, jaw stretching wide as you struggled to get every inch of him inside your mouth while wrapping your hand around what was left.
You moved slowly at first, getting used to the feel of him in your mouth. It didn’t take long until your mouth was working in tandem with your hand, creating a rhythm that had his body shaking. The room was quickly filled with the sounds of his ragged breathing and soft moans, and you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. There you were, hiding behind an empty office with the potential of getting caught.
But you didn’t care, nor did Spencer, as he held your hair and bucked his hips into your mouth. You could feel the tension building in him, his breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. He was so, so close, and you wanted to push him over the edge. You quickened your pace, your mouth moving up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks to create a tighter seal.
His moans grew louder, and you could tell he was struggling to keep quiet. “Please,” he whined, his voice strained. “I-I’m gonna…”
A choked gasp cut off his words as he reached his climax, his release hitting the back of your throat in hot, pulsing waves. You swallowed him down, savoring the taste of him, the warmth spreading through you as you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. His expression was one of pure ecstasy, mixed with a hint of disbelief and awe.
As he slowly came down from his high, his grip on your hair loosened, and he gently helped you to your feet. "That was..." he trailed off, still catching his breath. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to. Besides, I think you deserved it,” you said before pointing a finger at him. “But we can’t keep doing this at work.”
He looked at you, amusement and disbelief dancing in his eyes as he adjusted his clothes. You could almost read his thoughts: you were the one who initiated this, not once, but twice. The first time might have been out of panic, but this time, it was all you.
“I’m serious,” you said, crossing your arms to emphasize your point. “Now that you’re back, we should keep a certain distance between us. No more sneaking around.”
He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile curling at the corners of his mouth. But then you watched as his expression suddenly shifted, as if he remembered something and his smile turned into a frown followed by the furrow of his eyebrows.
“What? What’s wrong?”
He glanced at you, his hands sinking into the front pockets of his slacks. “I haven’t told this to anyone but… there’s a condition to my reinstatement.”
“What do you mean?”
He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “For every hundred days that I spend on the field, I’m required to take thirty days off.”
You blinked, processing the information. “Wait, what? So you’re not fully back?”
“Technically I am, just not how I want it to be.”
You watched as his shoulders slightly fell. “You’re not happy about this, are you?”
“What am I supposed to do on my days off? A whole month of sitting around in my apartment doing nothing?”
You took a step closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “You’re not going to be sitting around doing nothing. Think of it as an opportunity. You can catch up on your reading, maybe even take a trip somewhere.”
He shook his head. “That’s not the same. I want to be out there, doing my job, helping people. It’s what I’m good at.”
“I know,” you said softly. “But you can’t give your best if you’re burnt out. These breaks could help you recharge, keep you sharp.”
He sighed, looking down at the floor. “I just feel like I’m being benched, like they don’t trust me fully.”
You tugged his arm, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Hey, they trust you. This is about keeping you safe. After everything you went through… Spence, you deserve this break. They just want to make sure you’re at your best every time you’re back in the field.”
When he didn’t seem to fully absorb your words, you pressed on.
“Think about it, you have so many options. You could pick up a new hobby, spend more time with your mom... or finally visit those places you’ve always talked about. Like that museum you mentioned before, what was it called again?”
His gaze softened as he listened to your suggestions. "The Smithsonian," he replied after a moment, a small smile playing on his lips. “I've always wanted to spend a whole day there without rushing.”
"Exactly! Now you'll have the time to do that."
He nodded slowly, the tension easing from his shoulders. "I guess you're right.”
“See? It’s all about perspective.”
His lips curved into a smile as you both fell into silence. Then, he studied you, his eyes scanning your features as if trying to decipher the thoughts swirling in your mind through the subtle shifts of your expression.
“Will you come with me?”
Your heart skipped a beat, and your breath caught in your throat at the unexpected question.
“You want me to come with you to the museum?”
"Yeah," he murmured, his voice soft, almost quiet. "Will you?"
It was a simple question, but it held a weight that you couldn't ignore. You had spent plenty of time together, grabbing lunch, chatting at the coffee shop down the road. But this felt… different. More personal. More intimate.
And suddenly it came crashing to you. You were so absorbed in what was happening between you, the stolen kisses, the physical attraction, that you didn’t realize your friendship was never going to be the same again.
On one hand, the idea of spending more time alone with him was undeniably tempting, but the rational part of you wasn’t sure if it was the wisest thing to do. He was your friend, a good one at that, and getting emotionally involved with friends could either strengthen or strain the relationship.
You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you searched for the right words. But before you could answer him, both of your phones vibrated with a notification. You both looked at your own devices and read the message.
“We’re leaving now,” Spencer announced, shoving back his phone in his pocket. “We should go.”
You nodded slowly, your gaze lingering on the door for a moment longer before you turned towards him. “You know what? You should head out first. I need some time to myself.”
He furrowed his brows slightly. You could tell he wanted to ask more questions, but he didn’t press on. “You sure?”
“Yes,” you replied. “Just give me a minute and I’ll follow behind.”
His eyes lingered on you for another second before he nodded, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “Sure, I’ll save a seat for you.”
You returned his smile, though it felt more like a grimace as you watched him exit the room. The click of the door closing behind him seemed to echo in the sudden silence, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts as the rush of emotions flooded over you. It felt as if you were standing at the edge of a precipice, unsure whether to leap or retreat.
With a deep breath, you pressed a hand to your chest, trying to calm the fluttering inside. But the truth was undeniable—you were falling for him, and you were falling fast.
#behind closed doors#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x female reader#spencer reid x fanfiction#spencerreid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid fluff#Fanfiction#gifwriting
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Happy Borth my Child Agent Eight! Here is the preview for Part 9, Behind Closed Doors, "Found."
RELEASING ON JULY 16th, 2023 on my ao3.
It took time to find more answers. She wanted to figure out her whole story. She wanted to know what Tartar said about her. But whatever he did to her mentally blocked her memory. Anything she found that was attached to her past she would stare at, get lost, and let her hand do the talking. She knew the summary of what happened. But there were still gaps—lost memories—ones not too significant but important nonetheless. It might be useful.
But alas. Nothing much was uncovered. It was frustrating. With a sigh, she took a break and headed to the kitchen.
It was 4:34 now and Brook(Agent Three) was off at her Aunts and Uncles place. She did eat lunch and took a nap but she had a weird dream, kind of spooky.
She saw silhouettes of other octolings: voices yelling and her body moving to follow their words. It was all muffled. She just spectated. The setting was in a hallway, then went to an open space. There were more octolings running around frantically—in a hurry. She was even running around, panting. Someone yelled at her and she ran to another location. She stopped and typed something into a keyboard and looked at a screen.
Eight didn’t see clearly but something was moving and her body yelled back anxiously as she reached for her octo shot, grabbing something, and looked around the room—now in a lab—in alert. Everyone else left. The door for escape locked along with everyone else in its safety on the other side. Eight knew something was coming. Yelling again from the other side of the locked door. All she could manage was “your own,” and felt tears running down her face. She felt… fear. Felt her breath pick up—shaking. Her thoughts raced, only managing to hear “shoot, die, help” in a panic.
Footsteps. Not like octoling boots. Eight ran to the other doorway option, knowing it was just empty space and a dead end. She looked behind her shoulder and saw someone—someone familiar but their form a shadow with glowing headphones and tinted orange tentacles, standing in the doorway from the other side. They aim to shoot at her, moving through the hallway with haste to catch her.
[🎨@herosplatling-replica]
But she soon reached that dead end. She knew she was done for. She had nowhere to run—nowhere to hide; no other escape routes except for the one she came from that was now locked and blocked. But that thing is chasing her. Her finger pressed the trigger and the two danced around each other for what seemed like ages. It was long; painful. The attacker started to grow more impatient and used specials.
She didn’t make it on the third splashdown. Eight only managed to tap the intruder's shoulder before she heard something fall; a little clanging noise as it hit the ground. That was the end.
#splatoon#splatoon 2#my fic#my writing#my fanfic#agent 3#brook#agent 8#willow#update#behind closed doors#commissioned art#preview
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Behind Closed Doors
Fallen Angel
Sunsets and Shadows
Paint My Heart
Fe!!! Thank you SSSOOO much for the multiple asks! 😍 I love you!
Because I tend to go a little overboard with these, I'm going to break them up into their own post so this ask isn't HUGE 😅 But I will link them below once they are posted!
Behind Closed Doors (Rhett Abbott)
Fallen Angel (Miles Miller)
Sunsets and Shadows (Vampire!Rick Flag as part of the "Eternally Yours" series)
Paint My Heart (Robert "Bob" Floyd)
send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it
#thanks!#friend ask#ask game#made up fic title game#behind closed doors#rhett abbott#fallen angel#miles miller#sunsets and shadows#rick flag#vampire!rick flag#paint my heart#bob#robert bob floyd
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Do u think drag race Stan’s from Twitter are gonna migrate here or stick to IG and tiktok… bc if they come here what if there’s ficgate 3.0
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following up as a sequel to my hot take of i don't think the mxtx boys from other series would ever really be friends I don't think any of the tops in these books would ever get along outside of mutual tolerance.
For one I don't think Lan Zhan could stand Luo Binghe for more than five minutes at a time because Luo Binghe is everything he can't stand amped to 12. Lan Zhan is someone who values emotional independence and freedom and automony in his SO and Binghe... is Binghe. A 20s wreck who by the end of the book realizes he needs to really work on his extreme emotional dependence and trust issues and also is more than willing to be manipulative to get what he wants. He's a mess and I love him. Also... like I feel fandom constantly forgets that Lan Zhan post 13 years is almost 40 and a thing you realize as you age is that it becomes harder and harder to deal with people that much younger than you. I'm not even 35 yet but I can't stand 20 year olds half the time. They annoy me greatly. Luo Binghe himself would never have anything of interest to say to them to. Luo Binghe would not put in the effort to understand or connect with Lan Zhan unless he has to because that's the kind person Luo Binghe is. Luo Binghe is extremely transactional in how he processes relationships for the most part. He's just not going to make that connection.
Meanwhile with Hua Cheng and Binghe i just don't think they have literally anything to talk about with each other despite being the most similar in terms of personality and such. I feel Hua Cheng would see himself in Binghe but in the 'oh gross looking at middle school pictures of myself' manner. They would tolerate each other have respect but that's it. Binghe at best is asking for advice form Hua Cheng. And Ghost Mc Sugar daddy never contacts him otherwise.
Meanwhile I think Lan Zhan and Hua Cheng are on good terms and get along. They can have a conversation and be amicable but I can't see why they would ever bother without an outside reason. Like them being neighbors who both hate the HOA or just 'hey can we enter your domain to kill a ghost?' sort of thing. Lan Zhan himself would never seek out Hua Cheng on his own and this isn't because i think Lan Zhan is incapable of friends. It's the opposite. I think Wangji actually has a decent number of actual friends (even if he doesn't actively say they're friends and it's just these are the people he sees often and is on good terms with) but you have to approach him or make him interested or he just doesn't care or bother most the time. Hua Cheng himself doesn't seem like the kind of guy to bother.
#mxtx#mxtx svsss#mdzs#tgcf#meta#lan wangji#luo binghe#hua chang#what i want people to take away from these posts is that i think it be great to write fics where they are all petty neighbors#and all they do is gossip about each other behind closed doors#svsss#mo dao zu shi#scum villian self saving system
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