#everyone look at this poll right fucking now
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Your wish is my pleasure
Hi guys! The poll which story deserves a sequel came back pretty unambiguous! So, please enjoy more hunky Arab guys in the 3000 follower special: "Your wish is my pleasure"!
In case you want the first part first, here it is:
Greg looked at the lamp in his hand in disbelief. "Was that... because of what I said?"
One of the other guys, Maurice, who had been watching with his mouth open, nodded slowly. "It... seemed that way, bro! You wished for him to be gay and now Catherine is a fucking guy!"
Greg looked at James, and slowly, his disbelief turned into a smug grin that frightened James.
"Is that true, James? Are you gay now? Answer me!"
Again, James was compelled to answer, and so he said truthfully:
"Yes, master! That was your wish."
Greg turned around to the rest of the guys. "Man, can you believe this? We can, like, wish for *anything* now! Unlimited money!"
"Unlimited women!", Maurice chimed in, getting on board.
"I don't know, but what about James?"
It was Kit, formerly Catherine, who spoke for the first time since his transformation into a hunky guy. He seemed rather uneasy about the whole thing.
"Fuck James!" exclaimed Greg. "He's a real life genie now! Think of all the things we can wish for! You, too, Catherine! You've got a dick now as well, wouldn't you want unlimited pussy for it?"
Kit raised his arms.
"Oohkay, first, it's Kit. And second: Ew. I don't want pussy, just the thought alone..." He shuddered. "No, I prefer cock. Lots and lots of big, throbbing cocks."
Kit licked his lips and looked around at the others, who slowly backed away from Kit.
"God, you're really a fag now, aren't you?" Greg said, looking amused. "Okay, so pussy for the rest of us, and cock for Kit. Fine. It's my wish and nobody can say me and the guys don't like homos, right, guys?"
James perked up. There was a... choice. Greg had clearly said 'my wish', but it still sounded a lot like 'I wish' - enough for whatever power that bound James to give him a choice if he wanted to react to it. And James wanted to. Revenge was best served cold.
"And so it shall be, master!" he boomed, and felt the power surge through him once more.
"What? No! I didn't wish for anything!" Greg protested, but the other ones were quicker and just stared at Greg.
A wave of blue smoke emanated from James, the genie, and rolled over everyone, with the notable exclusion of Kit. As Greg breathed in the blue smog, his head was swimming all of a sudden and he had to close his eyes. When he opened them again, he suddenly saw his buddies in another light. He noticed things he never noticed before, like Maurice's cute nose or the way the muscles in his back rippled. Greg looked at his other friends and found that they were all handsome dudes. Kit was the cutest of them all, but that changed quickly. The temperature in the room seemed to rise and Greg, as well as his friends, one by one started pulling their shirts off, showcasing their changing bodies.
Every single one of them became even more handsome. Their chests gaining definition and toned muscles showing in the arms. Greg watched in wonder as his abs formed a six-pack and his hair styled itself into a modern, undeniably gay haircut. Every single one of them appeared to be well-groomed and body-focused now, even though they still had their individual touches.
"I... I'm hot." Greg whispered.
The other boys nodded. "Hell yes."
"And gay."
"Definitely."
Greg only noticed he was almost painfully hard from watching his buddies transform into a bunch of flaming homosexuals, when Maurice came over and groped Greg's cock through his jeans. Greg moaned and looked Maurice into the eyes, easily losing himself in the sight. Almost without him wanting to, their faces came closer to each other until their lips locked and they started making out. Greg moaned into the kiss and pressed his body against his friend.
While Greg and Maurice as well as the other ones were making out, Kit felt a little left out, but as he watched the two men, a certain feeling of arousal was creeping up on him. He looked at James, who was obviously also enjoying the show, judging by his tented underwear. That was a real man. Sure, the other guys were hot, but they were... American hot, but James was pure Arabian beef. And Kit felt bad for him, not able to participate.
Suddenly, he had an idea. It took a bit of strength to separate Greg from Maurice, but due to his new muscular frame, Kit managed.
"Hey, Greg, you're really hot that way. But you know what would be even hotter?"
Greg's cock was throbbing in his pants and had already formed a wet spot from his pre on the front. That was still more modest than what was going on in the background, where groins were gyrated against each other, and the first pair of jeans was being removed.
"No, what?" Greg moaned as Maurice continued to knead his groin.
"Look at James and how beefy he looks! Wouldn't you want this to be an all-Arabian orgy, instead?"
"Oh, God, Kit, that's such a hot idea." He looked at the lamp he was still holding in his hands.
"Genie, I wish that everyone here is a piece of Arab beef like you and that we all have some fun together, do you hear me? That includes you!"
This time, James was all too eager to grant the wish. With another "And so shall it be!", blue smoke emanated from his body and enveloped the room.
The changes were way more noticeable this time. Immediately, Greg felt his toned chest expand with each breath he took, but not receding as much as it expanded before. That way, his pecs solidified into two solid slabs of muscular meat, each easily the size of a plate. At the same time, his stomach also grew, but only as much as it needed to accommodate the new amount of muscle mass, forming a six pack and a delicious V-line.
At the same time, the skin covering this magnificent torso darkened into a healthy tan that was further visually darkened by the copious amount of body hair that also grew in, starting from his pecs and leading down his midsection, until it finally disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans.
Meanwhile, his back broadened to accommodate his massive, muscular shoulders, and his biceps swelled up in turn. The changes rippled down his arms, making his forearms, biceps and triceps swell until he looked like a bodybuilder.
But Greg was still standing, and his legs needed attention, too. His thighs became thicker, and his calves and shins swelled in turn, making his jeans uncomfortably tight and constricting. Moaning from the ecstasy of change, he fiddled with his jeans buttons until he finally opened them. At the same time, his shoes were torn apart from the swelling feet and fell to the ground, allowing his toes to spread out in all their glory.
Once Greg had managed to peel off his constricting pants and shook off the remains of his shoes, he could see his body changing in almost full glory. The only garment still on his body was his underwear, but that was tented to the breaking point now. His cock was throbbing like mad, coating his underwear with copious amounts of pre-cum, and with each throb, the magnificent manly rod grew even bigger. It was almost as big as James' cock already and wasn't finished yet.
At the same time, the rest of his body was continuing to bulk up. His backside was expanding, with his butt cheeks bulging out and filling the behind of his boxer shorts to the breaking point as well. All over his limbs, dark and curly hair was sprouting, adding an animalistic appeal. Especially his now enormous armpits filled out with hair and sweat, adding to the quickly evolving smell of manly musk and sexual urges in the room.
When Greg looked up, he saw that the same was happening to his other friends. Their bodies were expanding in size, gaining more muscle and more body hair. Their chests were filling out, their nipples becoming hard, dark nubs in the middle of a sea of hair. Before long, the small shop was filled with a group of hairy Arabs, and their combined smell and urges. It was getting harder and harder for Greg to restrain himself. He didn't recognize any of his friends anymore, and the blue smoke was the only thing setting James apart, who was licking his lips now. Even Kit had changed again and was now one of the similar looking but not identical Arabs in the room. His cock throbbed and Greg felt the testosterone surging in him. Fuck this. He *needed* to breed!
He growled and ripped off the underwear, and his cock finally sprang free, bouncing a little before resting, proud and hard, pointing up at the ceiling. It was the biggest and thickest cock Greg had seen in his life, and his balls, swinging below were heavy weight of their own. Still, in this room, the massive tool was about average. Everyone was more than well-endowed, and Greg couldn't wait to sink his cock into one of the beefy asses available or feel one of his friends' rods up his own. The situation grew tenser by the second, and he could already see one of the men make out with James, the genie. That must be Kit! Greg thought and smiled. He'd always been a little slutty.
Greg was getting impatient, too, though, and the lust and testosterone inside of him was making him lose his mind. He grabbed the nearest Arab and bent him over, exposing a deliciously hairy hole that was just begging to be bred. Greg didn't hold back and immediately plunged his rock hard member into the man, not caring which one of his former friends it was.
Before long, the room was filled with animalistic grunts and moans from men unhinged. Cocks were shoved up asses, and hands were jerking off the men who were lucky enough to be taken. It didn't take long for the first load of cum to spurt onto the carpet, followed by the next and the next. Soon, the air was thick with the smell of Arabian sex, and the sounds of pleasure.
As he thrust into the tight ass he had claimed, Greg couldn't remember a time when he was more aroused. The ass around his cock felt like it was made to be bred by him, and the sound of balls slapping against butt was the most satisfying thing he ever heard. He didn't know if the guy was still there mentally or not, but it didn't matter. He had an ass, and Greg had a cock, and that was all there was.
The orgy continued until the morning sun rose above the antiquity shop. Kit was exhausted as he looked around. It wouldn't be long until his grandmother came in, and probably would die from a heart attack. Valuable vases were shattered by the masculine bodies slammed against them, and furniture broken.
James looked spent, too, but content, when Kit cleared his throat.
"Honey, could you do something about this mess?"
James looked over to his lover and smiled as he snapped his finger.
"Of course, my dear. Your wish is my pleasure."
James didn't turn anyone back, of course. Wish is wish, after all. Every single one of them was now a constantly horny Arab for life. It wasn't a bad life, though, especially for Kit. Having a genie for a boyfriend certainly had its perks.
Thank you so much again! I'm already looking forward to the next special!
Oh, and since some of you asked: Of course, I will only write one sequel, this one here. However, seeing how popular the second place was, I might write another story that is suspiciously similar and in the spirit of "Calling the plumber", too ;-).
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Bingqiu roleswap where disciple Shen Yuan knows he's gay, and figures out that he has a big huge crush on his handsome Shizun, but also concludes nearly at once that he's not going to be drawing Luo Binghe's eye any time soon. Firstly, Luo Binghe is notoriously straight. Secondly, even if he weren't, he wouldn't go for his scrawny untalented nerd of a disciple! Shen Yuan's not bad looking, not before or after transmigrating, but he's neither a beautiful nor a hot manly man, and he assumes if Luo Binghe were into dudes he'd be into the same kinds of twunks that Shen Yuan likes. Guys on his own level, etc etc.
Plus Luo Binghe hated the original disciple Shen, and only started to warm up to the transmigrated version after Shen Yuan got injured in front of him trying to stop the other disciples on the peak from killing a small animal. For some reason, Luo Binghe brought Shen Yuan medicine. He got even nicer after Shen Yuan distracted the skinner demon by trying to convince it to take his skin instead of Luo Binghe's, and then again when Shen Yuan successfully fought off a demon invader -- though initially when Luo Binghe volunteered him for that job, he thought it was an assassination attempt. His heart was in his throat when Luo Binghe nearly took a poisoned blow for him, but luckily he reacted more quickly and got hit by the thorns instead. His heavenly demon blood took care of the poison, and he managed to convince everyone that he narrowly avoided getting cut at all.
Shen Yuan's careful not to read anything into it when Luo Binghe finds out about his, erm, uncomfortable dormitory situation and moves him into the side room, or when he completely messes up trying to make dinner and Luo Binghe takes over cooking and bans him from the kitchen (he swears he's not actually that bad at cooking, he just never had to use a kitchen without a microwave or an electric hot plate before...)
After all, it's not like Luo Binghe is cooking for him, he's just making food he likes and letting Shen Yuan eat it too! Because he's nice! He's way nicer than the book gave him credit for being, see, clearly Shen Yuan was correct in signing up for his defense squad, "top ten worst villains of all time" his ass that poll was nonsense...
Unfortunately, though, the plot's still gotta plot. Shen Yuan is heartbroken when the Immortal Alliance Conference rolls around and his shizun stabs him and throws him down into the Endless Abyss. Heartbroken, but not surprised. After all, it was always going to go this way, wasn't it?
But at least, now that it's done, he has some agency in how he reacts to it. He's changed the story enough that he doesn't need to go get revenge. Maybe Luo Binghe's still the villain of his story, maybe that was inevitable, but some heroes let the villains get away. Don't they? It's all part of that noble, breaking the cycle of abuse type stuff. He can be that kind of hero. He can let it go. As long as he avoids Luo Binghe altogether, it should be fine, right? It's not like he's obligated to turn people into human sticks. He asked the system, he's definitely not!
Technically he's not even required to conquer the demon realms. He just has to get out of the Abyss and the be sufficiently cool and/or tragic. Conquest is just one means of doing that, and not even Shen Yuan's preferred, since he doesn't exactly want to rule over anybody. Going around the demon realms beating up some jackasses and rescuing some damsels in distress and becoming sworn brothers with Shang Qinghua, one of the current demon kings, is suitable. He definitely doesn't want to marry any of the damsels he encounters (thank fuck the system lets him off the hook for that!)
But eventually he has to go back to the human world. Not only is it mandated by the system, but he also misses living there. The demonic realms are in many ways better than expected, plus a lot of the monsters are really cool, but he misses the weather and plants and the people he's more accustomed to being around.
He misses Qing Jing Peak, if he's being honest with himself. Shizun's cooking and the bamboo forest and the crisp mountain breezes, the comforts of home.
Not that he can actually go back there in specific. Of course not. If he did that, Luo Binghe would try to kill him, or else the system would try and make him kill Luo Binghe. Bad ideas all around. No, he can't go back to Qing Jing Peak, but he can go find someplace nicer than the demon realms at least. He just has to keep a low profile, which shouldn't be hard since the original goods did that even while actively scheming to kill his former master!
Except.
Everywhere he goes, suddenly Luo Binghe is also there?!
Good thing Shen Yuan thought to take a page out of the book of Luo Binghe's actual love interest, Liu Mingyan, and start wearing a veil. He just didn't want any randos who might have seen him at the Immortal Alliance Conference or on any of the other missions his shizun sent him on to recognize him. But one minute he's investigating a strange case in Jinlan City, and the next the streets are full of Huan Hua cultivators (Shen Yuan has no intention of joining them, that's the path the original took to getting revenge! He doesn't want revenge!), and then Luo Binghe and Sect Leader MBJ and Peak Lord SHL show up, and SY is ducking down alleys and hiding behind columns, just trying to stay out of the way until the lockdown on Jinlan lifts and he can leave.
Except...
Luo Binghe really isn't acting like himself?
He looks like he hasn't been eating or sleeping well. There are dark circles around his eyes, and something almost melancholy in his countenance. And he's dressed entirely in white, none of the usual Qing Jing greens and blues anywhere to be seen. Of even greater concern, he's being reckless. Shen Yuan can't stop himself from rushing out when he sees his former shizun get infected by a sower demon.
Luckily, it's been some years since the last time they saw one another. Shen Yuan's gained a few inches in height, so he's almost at eye-level with his old master now, and though he's still more slender than bulky he's picked up some totally new styles from training the demon realms. He doesn't move the same way he used to. With that, plus the veil, it's enough for him to quickly swallow back his words as he grabs Luo Binghe and quickly administers a cure for the sower infection.
Well, he has one of course. He wouldn't need it himself, heavenly demon blood and all, but his time running around playing hero in the demon realms meant he rescued a lot of humans from such fates. Which is hard to do if you don't have a cure to their afflictions, but between him and Shang Qinghua, sourcing such things was almost easy.
Luo Binghe looks at him like he's just seen a ghost. The other Cang Qiong sect members are alarmed by SY suddenly accosting one of their own and of course find him suspicious, so he runs away right after, and then he has to lose Sha Hualing's pursuit in the city.
But what else could he do? He manages to evade the system's attempts to railroad him into meeting Gongyi Xiao, avoids the rest of the Cang Qiong crowd, and drops some of the cure through the current Qian Cao peak lord's window to get the incident sorted out. Then he flees and puts a good amount of distance between himself, Jinlan City, and every righteous sect he can think of.
The only problem is that after this point, Luo Binghe is everywhere.
Any time Shen Yuan stays in one place for longer than a few days, Qing Jing disciples start turning up. Any time he takes a job hunting some cool-sounding monster or pursuing some interesting tome of knowledge, the better to satisfy the system, it seems like Luo Binghe has selected and gone after the exact same target! Which is especially annoying because back when SY was a disciple, Luo Binghe was always assigning him to do this stuff. Since when does his chronic homebody master have an interesting in six-tailed scorpion lemurs or ancient spiritual kilns?
What's weirder, though, are the rumors.
It seems like any time SY stops at some well-populated place and asks for the latest gossip, he has to hear about how the Qing Jing peak lord lost his beloved disciple during the Immortal Alliance Conference, and mourned like a widow, and now wanders the earth in search of solace for his grief. Seeking something, possibly even the ghost of his dear disciple.
What nonsense! Luo Binghe threw SY into the Abyss himself. He had to do it, it was the plot! And also his obligation as a righteous cultivator, confronted with a "dangerous" half-demon. Does it sting? Yes it stings! That's why SY wouldn't just forget it! Despite logically knowing it's pointless, is there some part of him that wishes his master would have chosen differently? That thinks he should have known that no matter what kind of power Shen Yuan had, he would never use it to hurt people recklessly, or harm innocents, or especially not harm... well. It's pointless, his blood condemned him, and if there is some part of Luo Binghe which regrets what happened, it's doubtless just that he unwittingly harbored a monster for so long.
Which is fine and Shen Yuan would leave it at that, if the guy would just let him!
But no. Instead he has to deal with Luo Binghe turning up and asking him questions, trying to get him to talk (SY has no hope of disguising his voice, if he says anything he's not even sure it won't crack as he comes perilously close to tears instead, so he just stays silent), and then asking for his name, asking if he's mute, asking about his background, his sect, his kin. Is his a righteous cultivator? Where did he get that sword? (NOT Xin Mo, thanks, he used that thing once and then tossed it back into the Abyss before the portal finished closing behind him -- he knows a poisoned chalice when he sees one, although knowing the plot twist about that sword from the novel sure helped.) Where did he learn those forms? Is he... does he have a safe place to go home to? Someone to tend his injuries? Make sure he eats his meals?
SY, of course, stays silent. But it's difficult. Not only because Luo Binghe asks, but because he still looks... bad. Sunken, sorrowful, desperate almost. Shen Yuan can't figure out if he knows or not. Maybe he's unsure, maybe he's looking for SY to give him a sign, so that he can figure him out and then flip a switch and try to finish the job he started.
That can't happen. If they fight, SY will win, and he doesn't want to hurt Luo Binghe.
But even if Luo Binghe's not a heavenly demon, he is a highly accomplished cultivator, and it seems he's got his own breaking points to reach. Eventually he corners SY and gets a hand on his veil, and for a moment SY is sure he's going to rip it off, see his face, and confront him all "I knew it was you, you twisted evil demon, you won't escape justice a second time" and he feels a deep, icy terror close around his lungs--
Luo Binghe lets go of the veil before he can lift it.
But then something even worse happens. Because Shen Yuan's handsome, peerless, noble master breaks down. He falls to his knees, begging forgiveness, sobbing, clutching at his head like he's being driven to madness.
It all spills out of him, then. How he pushed his own dearest disciple into the Abyss, which obviously SY already knew, but also how he was apparently qi-deviating the whole time, and his senses could not differentiate between one kind of demonic "threat" and another. How he realized what he'd done only after he regained his senses hours later, and rushed back to the place where the tear to the Abyss had opened, but could not find a way in after the one he lost. How he had betrayed and thrown away the only person who cared about him, and couldn't even explain that he hadn't intended to. How he would accept anything, any punishment, hatred, penance, or revenge, if only he could see his disciple's face once more.
SY is stunned.
Apparently, Luo Binghe hadn't rejected him for his demon blood?
Not only that, but beforehand, he seemed to have valued Shen Yuan a lot more than Shen Yuan would have credited.
Is it a trick? Is he lying? SY would have guessed so, would have assumed that Luo Binghe's plan was to lull him into complacency only to turn on him once he finally had confirmation. But somehow, he just... doesn't think this is an insincere display. His old master is too cool for this stuff! He has too much dignity to just throw it away on a scheme! There are other ways to get what he wants.
Even if it is a lie, Shen Yuan is tired of running. He's the hero. He won't actually lose, and if it comes to it, it's still in his hands to decide if he wants to spare Luo Binghe or not (he does, of course he does, even if this whole spiel is an act). Plus he's got a backup plant body in one of Shang Qinghua's greenhouses if all goes to shit.
He takes the veil off himself.
Luo Binghe, teary-eyed, stares at him as if his face is the most beautiful he's ever seen.
Shen Yuan nearly puts the veil back on. His cheeks heat up. Dear Shizun, aren't you an immortal master? A noble peak lord? Isn't it your calling to vanquish demons? Get up off the dirty ground right this minute! Where did your dignity go? Shen Yuan did not spend all those nights doing the laundry to watch his teacher dirty his knees for no good reason!
There's a quaver in Luo Binghe's voice as he points out that Shen Yuan was terrible at doing laundry. Luo Binghe had to redo it the day after, all the time.
Shen Yuan chides at him that he should have made one of the other disciples do it then.
Luo Binghe just laughs, and stays on the ground, until finally Shen Yuan has to physically pull him up. Muttering about how he's being ridiculous, what's he crying for, why's he been moping so much, doesn't he know that handsome face should never look so bereft? Then he realizes what he's saying and shuts his mouth, but Luo Binghe just looks happy for the first time in years. Since the Abyss. How is it possible that SY, who actually had to slog through that awful place, can still smile more than Luo Binghe, who didn't?
They're standing so close. Holding on to one another. Almost as if... as if the scene's tone is... well...
Oh what the hell!
Shen Yuan closes the last little bit of distance between them, and kisses Luo Binghe.
#svsss#scum villain's self saving system#bingqiu#long post#of course the plot probably interferes further then#turns out that while luo binghe was desperately trying to get sy back he accidentally woke up sy's father#who for this au let's say is sj instead of tlj#sj does NOT approve of this match and also hates all the righteous cultivators (and demons... and everyone mostly...)#but he is also busy trying to resurrect yqy or something#kidnaps sy like well I missed the chance to raise you and actually that's probably for the best but now I need your blood#for Reasons#luo binghe is not a fan of this turn of events#reverse holy mausoleum arc when SY is mostly unconscious except to sometimes throw out advice and LBH is dodging traps and villains#the pining-over-the-dead-shizun arc is probably AFTER the holy mausoleum and lbh self-destructs to rescue sy from sj's plans#sy refuses to accept this outcome he decided luo binghe was NOT to die he didn't need a redemption arc he was FINE sy DECIDED#but luckily they're in the holy mausoleum so sy grabs a resurrection artifact of some kind#has to spend a few years restoring and maintaining lbh's corpse before he can get the to actually work but it's fine#he's fine everything's fine he's GOING to get lbh back lbh is NOT ALLOWED TO DIE#luckily unhinged sy results in way less collateral damage than unhinged lbh#so mostly he just fights off mbj's attempts to honorably recover his shidi's body and offer him a proper burial#while camping out in the holy mausoleum and arguing with sj's detached body parts#y'know normal healthy behavior
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How To Adapt To Fire (II)
AU MASTERLIST || PART III
PAIRING: Fireman!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Journalist!Reader
WORDCOUNT: 5.6k
WARNINGS: Fire(s), intended harm, death/gore, murder, crime, corruption, arsonist mystery plot, pining, protective!Johnny, flirting, intense banter, fade-to-black, nudity, suggestive descriptions, dirty jokes, etc.
A/N: Taglist is full.
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
Johnny watches you slap another news clipping to the board he’d bought you for thirty-two dollars and twenty-three cents, tired eyes blinking slowly. Standing in his apartment’s living room in his boxers and an oversized shirt, he’d woken up to the sound of muttering, and it had been just that for the last week.
When he’d allowed you to live in his spare room until you could find a new apartment building to call your own, he didn’t expect you there to be so much grumbling. Like a little bug in his ear—not that he minded all that much. At least, if you were that bug.
“I feel like I’m losing my mind,” you groan, running a hand down your face. “How did he find me? How did he know I already knew so much about the case?”
He, the arsonist.
Your entire building had been a total loss—and, sure enough, the lock had been busted off of your apartment door just like the scene of the fires that resulted in casualties. You had been targeted, and it wasn’t just an accident. There was intent there; a threat.
Stay away from me, or else.
Johnny had sighed long when he read that in the report he’d gotten his hands on—there was no way in hell anything was stopping you except…well, except yourself.
While he had envisioned one day potentially asking you to move in with him, he hadn’t expected that to happen so soon. Certainly not before the first fucking date. He hadn’t even gained the courage to ask you out yet, and here you were—pajama pants polling at your ankles and Johnny’s baggy sweatshirt loose around your shoulders. The Scot stands with the heat of sleep and attraction on his skin.
He tried not to stare, really he did, but the way you looked in his clothes was too much of a distraction for his own good.
The man clears his throat, face burning.
“I’m beggin’ you to give it a rest, Dearie. At least five minutes.” Johnny sighs. “It’s not healthy.”
He doesn’t think he’s seen you shed a tear over your apartment—about your belongings. In reality, he was taken aback by it. Soap wouldn’t have blamed you at all…but you just seemed angry. It worried him, but the emotion was well within your right to hold. Just as it was within his right to try and keep you from rushing into danger.
“Not now,” you grumble. “Not until I know how he found out my room number.”
“You aren’t exactly unknown.” The fireman walks closer to your standing form, hand moving up to scratch at his back as he gunts. “Mostly everyone who would care to look into your career knows about you. It wouldn’t be hard.”
Johnny moves his vision over the board, pausing before he licks his lips.
“...They’ll be needing me in today, Hen,” he breathes.
Your lips tighten, and you glance over quickly to find blue eyes already looking. Snapping your attention back to the board, you push back against the burn of your face.
“It’s your job, I’m not going to tell you not to go in.”
“If you need me here, then I can—”
“John,” you interrupt, shaking your head with a heavy frown and turning his way. “No way. Go in.”
Johnny’s serious face doesn’t lessen, and you’re struck with how often those lines on his face are becoming commonplace.
You wouldn’t say that you were taking this well.
Forcing yourself to work; making your mind push back at the deep pit that seemed to be growing. Everything you’d worked for—everything you’d had. Gone. Up in smoke.
Two people had died in that inferno, and you can’t help but put that on yourself.
Fingers going up to tap at your chin, your attention goes back to the board, the heavy weight of bags under your eyes from lack of sleep. You’d tried to re-write what you had in your notes as well as you were able, but there had been a reason for making a physical board in the first place.
Johnny watches you, his brows tight and his fingers twitching. Sighing, he fixes his feet and lightly places a hand on the back of your spine, blinking quickly your eyes dart over before the tension begins to bleed from your muscles.
Your gaze begins to soften, but your voice is still a light firmness. “Stop that.”
The man blinks. “Stop what?”
“Stop being all…” You huff, sagging into his hand. “You.”
Johnny pushes a chuckle, shifting to stare at you fully and letting the smirk move over his lips. His fingers move along your back, rubbing tiny circles as the room goes airy—how quick it was that you could fall into this sense of attachment. To anyone outside of the apartment, it would seem the two of you were in a strange relationship, and that would be true to some extent.
Your face heats up, and Johnny’s large palm flattens. He moves and presses his nose into your hair.
“Now what’s that supposed to mean, then?” He grunts, and you can feel his flickering smirk as clear as day.
Leaning over into him, you sigh, glaring at the board as your heart patters.
“It means you’re distracting me.”
Johnny hums, thumb moving up and down over the knob of your spine. “Talk to me,” he mutters. “Let me help, aye?” He blinks slowly, face hot and his lungs palpitating in his chest. The man cared about you so much—his heart ached for what you’d been put through. Losing a home like that.
Your lashes flutter, a near purr emitting from your throat at the hypnotic movements of Johnny’s grip. Like a damn harpy, he was digging his claws into you; it had been happening for months. Of course, you’d let him touch you—how could you not? Even his sense of courage and justice was something that let you know his character, his honor.
This case was just as important to him as it was to you.
“Go,” you mutter, shifting your head so that you can stare at him. Johnny’s visage pulls back, his stubble moving with the worried angle of his lips; his skull tilts, almost like a dog cocking its snout. “We can figure something out later—if I get you fired I’d finally gain a conscious.”
Johnny sighs, looking you up and down. “...I’ll be making dinner tonight. Just,” he breathes, and as his hand leaves you, your body fights the instinct to shiver. “Wait for me, Bonnie.”
You take in the closeness between the two of you—how your bodies melt into one another as if on instinct. Something was startling about how easy it was to live in the same apartment as Johnny. It had almost been too easy. Sharing food, blankets, and looks.
Your eyes follow after Soap as he brushes your cheek with the back of his hand before turning and walking back to his room, bare feet padding over the floor. His legs move, small burns and scars all over before your vision travels up the broadness of his back; the stretch of his arms as he brings them up with a groan to itch at his head.
Licking your lips, the sight is enough to quiet your mind. Seeing how, like water, his clothes morph into the swell of his thighs and the…your face bursts into fire, and your head snaps away.
Clearing your throat, you blink quickly and try to re-focus on your board of suspects.
—
Johnny tightens the belt over his waist, huffing softly as he walks into the fire department’s bay door—passing the red trucks and patting the dogs as they come up to mob him.
“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, the clicking of little claws tapping over the concrete floors and the panting of hot breath. “Good to see you too, little rascals.”
The fireman looks around the area, seeing some of the boys mulling about doing repairs or fixing up the slight mess. Johnny motions a hand when he’s greeted, and before long he’s entering the main hub of where he wants to go—the kitchen.
Grabbing a cup, the Scot’s intention is to get some water before settling into his desk and diving into something that can take his mind off the woman living in his apartment. Licking his lips, Johnny gets momentarily lost in the remembrance of your skin—your determination.
He’s angry. Angry that someone’s done this to you; had disrupted your life so violently. A question was stuck swirling in his head as he began hearing the murmuring from the walk-in pantry.
What would have happened if you hadn’t been with him that morning?
“What do you mean ‘that was you?’” Johnny’s fingers freeze around the rim of a glass, blinking into his own smaller reflection. Brows furrowing, the Scot’s head swivels to the kitchen pantry and the barely cracked open door and the voice that emanates from it.
For some reason, the stagnant air after that sentence makes Johnny’s spine straighten. Blue eyes stare blankly, and fingers twitch as the same voice starts again.
“I thought you said it was over?! That the last one was,” a strangled word, a fast inhale. “We had a fucking deal.”
Heart slow in his chest, Soap stares the longer this seemingly one-sided conversation goes on. There was something off—the words seemed hurried; panicked, even. It wasn’t the usual emotions you had when having a talk with someone.
Taking a steady step back, the Scot remembered how fast your pulse had run when he had you at his chest a week ago—the fast slam and the whites of your eyes on full display. Even if you didn’t confess it to him, Johnny knew you’d been afraid of the fire. Fearful. He knew you weren’t sleeping.
Maybe the fireman was being paranoid, but anything that he didn’t understand made his hackles rise like a feral dog—certainly with you, technically, under his watch now. Everyone was a potential threat. Face stiff, Johnny begins walking over to the pantry with nearly silent feet, boots softly flattening to the tile floor.
Stopping outside of the door, his ears hone in.
“This isn’t right! There’s a difference between what you do and what I do! We stuck together, but this is it. I’ve covered for you—I’ve tried to smooth everything out, but this isn’t something that I can look past anymore. She wasn’t even involved yet!”
Johnny’s lips tighten, his eyes burning through the barrier until he lifts his hand and settles it loosely on the doorknob, not pushing even as the thin material shifts minutely. The alarms in his head were going off, and he didn’t like that.
Muscles tight, the Scot moves a bit closer, shoulder just beginning to touch the wood before—
Kurt Matthews, one of the rookie firefighters, shoves himself through.
Johnny strangles a gasp as the two men nearly collide with one another, only shoving out, what he hopes to be, a casual call of, “Hell’s bells. Careful there, Kid.”
The man’s wild eyes lock on him, stumbling back before Soap’s hands move to grasp his arm, a dark phone held lightly in Kurt’s hand. Johnny looks at it silently before he forces a blank chuckle. “Sorry, then. Was going to get some bread—you know how it is, eh?” Kurt looks frazzled, a sheen of sweat over his face; eyes tiny. “The boys never fill up the bread box after they finish a loaf.”
“What?” Matthews quickly mutters, before shaking his head and waving a hand. “Yeah, right, whatever.”
He swiftly moves past the Scot, brushing shoulders. The mohawked man’s nose pulls in, and blue eyes watch the disappearing individual.
Johnny’s throat swallows down saliva.
Kurt Matthews smells like gasoline.
—
You hear the sound of the TV and sniffle, pushing the heels of your hands into your stinging eyes.
It wasn’t a question as to why you had waited until Johnny left to let yourself feel the hopelessness that was sinking into your chest—you were surprised you lasted that long, though. Tiny tears dribble out over your cheeks, but you fight them with a growl.
“Keep it together,” you sigh harshly. “C’mon, keep it together.”
Your heart jerks when the front door of the apartment opens, and you’re quick to stand up from the couch where you had been sitting, clearing your throat as Johnny’s call echoes.
“Just me!”
You divulge immediately into your hurried sentences, waving a hand. The shake in your voice is obvious. “I have some of the names I remember writing down—it isn’t much but I—”
“What happened?” Johnny’s hands capture your face in a swift second; he isn’t even out of his work clothes before he’s over and touching you. It’s like he teleported over at the slightest hint of distress, not even a moment of hesitation. “Whoa, hey, hey,” he breathes a bit slower, softer. “What’s this then, Bonnie?”
Delicate movements of his fingers scrape your flesh, thumb running as blue eyes come into focus. Your lungs tighten up again at the sight of tense worry—Johnny’s face all hard with the lines of his forehead and the narrowing of his eyelids.
“Let me see,” he utters, tilting your head up so the brightness of your eyes is visible to him; the wetness of your flesh. “Hey, now.”
The man’s attention goes up and down on the off chance this is physical pain instead of the internal kind. But he knows better than that. So, Johnny stuffs down the hunch he had about the man in his own ranks and places all of his concern on you and your bitter tears.
Even when you try to grumble his worry away.
“It’s just stupid tears, MacTavish,” your voice cracks as he drags you to him, curling his arm behind the stretch of your shoulder blades in an addictive display that leaves your nose sniffling again. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Quit it,” the Scot pleads. “Jesus, Pencils,” he sighs, arms trapping you in just like before. “Just let me hold you, yeah? I swear, you’ll make my heart burst ‘fore I get you to admit you’re feeling something.”
Your glossy eyes flinch into a weak glare. “I’m not that emotionally constipated, jackass.”
Johnny’s breath moves over your scalp.
“You sure about that?” Your face goes to an annoyed sheen, and from the soft rest of Johnny’s chest, you look over at him. He’s trying a light smirk, but his eyes are still serious.
Letting yourself melt into him, you take in his scent and the heat he offers you, surrounded by the remnants of his life and future—this apartment that offers you a reprieve.
You close your eyes and let your hands shift up to grab at Johnny’s shirt slowly, your heart gradually easing. Unaware of the soft gaze watching every second; his own grip tightening.
“...You’re like a dog,” you whisper, tears drying. “Always running over.” Your pause lays out a beautiful scene. “I like it.”
Johnny’s cheeks flare to a bright red. He clears his throat, glancing away from your face. “I don’t know if I should be offended or not.”
“Hm,” you hum, shrugging and nuzzling your nose into his pulse. You hear it racing. “Up to you, I suppose.”
The man laughs, chest jerking.
The silence that falls after is like a blanket—settling thickly over the space as the last of your sniffles finally halt. You didn’t like crying; not in front of others. It was easier to just push through it, but Johnny’s presence made you soft, at the same time you can’t tell if that’s good or bad. But it did make your fear lessen, and maybe that was something you couldn’t overlook.
You tighten your hold on his waist, and he grunts, glancing down at you as his gut swirls. The man’s half-lidded eyes flutter, fingers flinching along your clothes. The room gets warmer, or maybe it’s just him.
“I guess,” you begin under your breath, voice muffled by his skin. “I could use your help. Officially.”
“Ooo,” the Scot whispers. “‘Officially’—look at that.”
You huff, lips pulling up.
“Well,” the man mutters, chin resting on top of your head as the sun outside begins to dip lower. “‘Officially’ I have some information that my Bonnie little boss might like to hear.”
Your smirk grows wider, your heart hammering faster as your pulse moves with fire.
“Oh?” Your nails drag his sides, and you feel Johnny’s breath hitch, a low purr emanating from his chest.
“Oh, aye,” a hand grips your chin, dragging you back until you’re once more blinking into his gaze head-on. His finger pets your flesh, your breath puffing out as he stares down at you. He swallows down the nervousness in the back of his throat, the urgency that instinct pushes away in this moment of anticipation as he watches your face. “But I’m having a moment, it seems—can’t think straight.”
“Why’s that?” You lick your lips and see cobalt blue follow them.
“Because this Hen in front of me has been a damn tease since I’ve met ‘er.”
Any snappy reply is cut short before it even can fully register in your head, and all thoughts halt the second his firm mouth is on your own.
You gasp, but there isn’t an ounce of yourself that pulls back, not when Johnny’s fingers play at your shirt-hem, or even when your own slide under his clothes. You don’t pull back when they hit the floor—don’t pull back when your bodies follow suit.
A dance of fire and ice moves with the writhing of flesh and the passing of heavy kisses; panting breath. Grunts and groans as if every pass of lips and teeth is a knife into supple skin. Tense legs and flexing arms—dragging fingertips digging into every latchable dip even as the dead of night grows longer.
It’s only after every desire has been satiated that you finally utter about the finer details of this mess.
Johnny’s hands move down your bare back, slipping to grip your waist and drag you into him as you sigh. Your thigh lifts to rest over his hip, leg hanging uselessly over as it brushes the ruffled sheets as lips find your neck, tiny nips and passes of skin mixing as your eyes flutter.
The fireman makes a noise of satisfaction in the back of his throat, hand sliding to hook under your kneecap, caressing.
“So attentive,” you murmur, and your fingers run through his hair, itching at his mohawk as the longer strands slip through. Johnny burrows closer, nose pushing your head upwards as he kisses the space where your neck connects to the underside of your chin.
He chuckles smoothly, stubble scraping along as you shiver at the sensation. The hard press of his pecs shove into you, and you lightly breathe; fingers twitching.
“How are we feeling?” Johnny grunts in between his worship.
“Energized,” you grin, half-closed eyes shimmering.
The man smiles widely, grip sliding downward slowly as he chuckles. “Yeah?”
“Not like that,” you groan, shoving his hand away as he laughs, rolling onto his back and folding his arm over his eyes.
“Ah,” Johnny’s chest jumps with his amusement, itching at his bare abdomen for a moment. “Worth a try, then.”
“Dog,” you roll your eyes. “You’ve had enough of a fill.”
“That’s all up to opinion, Dearie.” He smirks, peeking at you as your face heats up.
Shoving at his shoulder, he laughs again and pushes up, hands melting into the mattress beside your head as he looms above you as a large wall.
“I’ll never have enough of a fill when it comes to you and your wet c-”
You snap a hand to his mouth, covering it as you glare openly, sneering. “Finish that sentence and you’ll never have me in this bed again.”
Johnny’s glinting eyes stare from above your hand, and you feel his smile as clear as day as his face stays stuck close to yours.
A teasing kiss is leveled on your palm and you roll your eyes, pulling away to lightly push at his forehead. The Scot lets you shove at him, and you sit up fully as he grunts and rests his back on the headboard.
Shifting your body, you straddle his lap and grasp his chin.
“A few hours ago,” Johnny’s eyes are blown, and you feel his touch on your hips. He hums in question, barely listening above the squeeze of your legs. “You were going to tell me something—a lead.”
“Was I?” The fireman breathes, licking at your finger as it goes to rest on his bottom lip.
You cock your head with seriousness and a level of amusement in your gaze. “You were. Tell me.”
“You need to work on your pillow talk, Pencils.” Johnny sets a sloppy kiss on your collarbone and sighs.
There’s a moment where you both stare into one another, and the gravity of this begins to set in once more. Carnal desire and feelings aside, there was always an edge to the both of you—this need to be seen through whether for some sense of justice or care.
“Kurt Matthews—rookie fireman,” Johnny grunts, looking away for a quick moment. “Heard him speaking on the phone, got a bad feeling ‘bout it that I can’t place. Might be nothing, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t tell you.”
“Kurt,” you breathe, brows pulling in. There’s a long pause. “Kurt Matthews…that sounds familiar.”
Hopping off Johnny, the man groans softly, a slightly needy look following after as your bare body slips away. He knocks his skull against the headboard, side-eyeing your backside as you hurry off to your board. A light smirk makes itself known before your voice snaps him out of his memories. “Stop looking at my ass, MacTavish!”
His face goes beet red as he grunts, quickly snapping his eyes away.
You wrap yourself into one of the blankets that was on the couch, letting it hang off of your shoulders as you snatch one of the papers on your mess of information.
“A fireman,” you mutter to yourself, finger running down names and brief descriptions. “An inside job? No, that would be…” Your eyes spark to life as Soap shuffles in, running through his hair. “That would be one hell of a story.”
Attention locked in, your eyes instantly stop on your own chicken scratch—the name at the bottom of the page.
Kurt Matthews. Witness to fire on the fifth; one dead.
“Off duty? Or not hired yet?” You ask, lips tightening. “Why was he at the scene? Johnny,” your curious voice calls to him, and he slips up behind you, flattening his front to your back. You lean into him, showing him the paper. “When did he get taken on into the department?”
“Month ago,” Johnny’s face pulls, frowning. A name catches his attention, and he tilts his head. “Why’s Duncan on there?”
Your attention moves to the scribbled title. Johnny continues as you read, your stomach sinking.
Duncan Ballard. Employee of Warren Electrical. No involvement.
You wave a hand. “He has nothing to do with this case. That was back when I was looking into the money laundering—”
“They’re cousins.”
Your body twists, face confused. “What…?”
Johnny blinks, glancing at you and then back to the paper, he vaguely gestures to the two names. “Duncan and Kurt—they’re cousins. Met him at one of the department cookouts. Strange bloke, but I never thought much about it. Just thought he liked the profession a bit because Kurt was getting involved.”
You stare at him, a million thoughts dashing from behind your eyes. “Duncan was the man I interviewed about the Warren Electrical case. He was cleared by the police,” you stutter, looking to the side. “He was the only employee of the company that didn’t confess or implicate someone else. There was no evidence to…”
You trail off before your spine tightens. Your body pushes itself out of Johnny’s hold, rushing to his computer and opening it like a bat out of hell.
“Give me the name of one of the fire victims.”
The Scot watches after, hurriedly forcing out, “Mike Lane.”
An article pops up—one that you hadn’t written but that another journalist had. Warren Electrical Employee Exposes All.
“Another,” you breathe, eyes stuck on the screen.
“Kit Cannon.”
Warren Electrical Employee—
“Johnny, one more.”
“Hadden Taylor.”
Warren Electrical Employee—
Your throat closes for a moment before you force out in the middle of Soap easing out another name, still not sure where you’re going with this. “He’s trying to kill off anyone who snitched.”
Johnny pauses, coming over to look as he thinks—as he looks over the articles you show him with a grim face, he tilts his head.
“Even then, why were you a target? All you did was interview him. And why now?”
“He knows I have all of the resources,” you begin. “If anyone can catch him, it would be me—I interviewed him when he was in temporary custody. It would have seemed like he didn’t have a choice unless he wanted to keep his appearance of innocence.”
Your mind struggles through the potential answers. “But you’re right—why now? Is it because of the trial coming up? And how does this connect with Kurt?”
“He smelled like Gasoline when he walked past me,” Johnny adds, rubbing at his chin; itching at his scar. He spares you a look, mulling over the words that he’d heard in the pantry. “...I think he’s trying to cover his cousin’s crimes with his own. Make it seem like they’re all a part of one damn scheme.”
“He’s the one going for the abandoned buildings,” you agree, nodding a few times, looking over into Johnny’s eyes. “Kurt Matthews and Duncan Ballard. Okay. We have our leads.”
Before the Scot can speak on it, you’re rushing past, grabbing clothes from the floor and shoving them on. His face moves in, confusion overtaking his building shock.
“What are you doing?” You shove into your pants, not sparing a look before you button them.
“Get dressed, we’re going out.”
Johnny’s left in the middle of the room, naked, watching after you with a slack-jawed expression of disbelief.
“...What?”
—
You hang up your phone with one of the many people you know in the city, dropping it to your side as you and the fireman stand in front of your car. You have an address for Kurt’s home—not one for Duncan, but that can happen later. With what Johnny had said not moments before, Matthews was expressing hesitation. Go for the weaker link first.
The streets are lit up. It’s still night out but the long hours are beginning to thin into morning; it can’t be later than three AM. Vehicles rush past, and, occasionally, people walk to wherever they are off to. The city never sleeps, just as you don’t.
“Woah,” Johnny grabs onto you before your hand can latch onto the driver’s seat door. He waves his other hand and stares at you heavily. “We can’t just go into this with our dicks in our hands, Bonnie.”
“Thankfully, I don’t have one of those,” you huff. “That’s why I keep you around.”
“That isn’t,” Johnny sighs aggressively, shaking his head. “I’ll not have you in danger. We need to pass this along the chain.”
“The chain,” you grumble, “hates me. We’re the best bet right now.” Raising a brow you point a finger under his nose. “If I recall, you asked to be involved.”
Johnny frowns heavily, looking unimpressed until he takes a deep breath. He rasps out, “You’re lucky you’re damn near a goddess—”
His phone goes off in his pocket, and not a second later, he’s answering as you mess with your satchel. Taking out a piece of paper, you try not to show how much his little comment made you want to float into the air, giddy, nearly, as you write down Kurt’s address sloppily.
“MacTavish,” Johnny grunts out, turning slightly away.
You open your car door, but a hand moves out and keeps it closed enough to a point where you can’t slip inside, you pout and Johnny raises a brow as he listens. Your eyes notice how his jaw clenches, and he lets off an aggressive sigh like a boar when he registers the words being said from over the line.
Your heart drops when you watch his shoulders sag, hips moving as they situate themselves.
“Right. I’ll be over.” Cobalt eyes snap to yours when the call ends, deathly serious. “One of the boys had to run out tonight during his twenty-four-hour—family emergency. I was on call for him.”
You open your mouth to speak.
“No,” Johnny points at you, digging out his own keys from his pants as he backs up. He shakes his head. “No—you’re not going alone. Don’t even ask it, Pencils.”
Your loud scoff echoes. “I didn’t even mention it!”
“You fucking thought it,” he grunts, glaring. “Get your pretty arse back inside the apartment and we do this together tomorrow.”
“Oh, yes,” you wave a hand, stepping back onto the sidewalk as the Scot moves to his vehicle only two cars down, sarcastically monologuing. “All naked and waiting to be ravished by your brutish body. Whatever will I do without you, my brave firefighter?”
“Don’t tempt me,” Soap mutters to himself, and just as he unlocks his car and opens the door, you’re there at his side. A light kiss is pressed into his flesh, and he freezes.
“Be safe,” you mutter, and he melts—tension loosening. He smirks and glances over, carefully grabbing your face before connecting his lips to yours with a low groan.
“Maybe you should be naked and waiting for me—”
“Go!”
Johnny chuckles against your lips. “Keep your head on for me, Pencils. I’ll be back soon, and we can find the fucker that did this, eh?”
As he gets into his car and drives away, you watch after him and bite at your lips. And then as he turns the street corner, you jog over to your car and slip inside.
—
The home was run down.
It wasn’t a place where you would want to raise a family, and neither was the neighborhood. In fact, barely anyone seemed to live on this street, and even if there were entire rows of houses, there weren’t even any lights on—nothing illuminated the streets except the lamps, and you were parked under one with your satchel in your lap.
Experience didn’t mean you never get nervous.
You feel the clamminess of your palms as you flex them, replaying Johnny’s words in your head over and over. You knew the house was here, so, you could always just…come back later. There was no harm in it.
Yet, your eyes narrow, and your rage builds.
This fucker was related to the man that burned down your apartment building—was potentially covering for him so you wouldn’t break the case on Duncan killing off the snitches for Warren Electrical’s schemes. But all because of an interview with him? All you’d done was sit down with the guy; why did he feel the need to track you down? Breaking into someone's house and lighting it up with matches was personal—incredibly personal.
Duncan had given you a warning to keep away, and you hated warnings with a fiery passion. If anything, it had just set you on his ass more.
“Okay,” you huff, and reach inside of your satchel, flicking on the recorder you stuffed inside and stating your name, age, and important information.
And then you open the car door and exit.
Speed walking to the door, you look down the dark streets and hunch into yourself, the calls of crows and the wind moving the overgrown grass. Cracked concrete hits the ground as you kick pieces away, and at the two steps leading to the front door, you think that perhaps this might be a bad idea.
Bad ideas are what make good articles.
You hum, face innocent. “Johnny’s gonna fucking kill me.”
Knuckles raising, you send three firm knocks into the paint-speckled wood, and wait. And wait.
And wait.
Your face tightens, your legs shifting minutely as the seconds draw long. A part of you is somewhat relieved until you hear a small creak just when you’re about to walk away. You freeze, and your eyes move slowly to the glass of the side window in a gradual glance.
Your eyes lock onto a face staring back.
Gasping, your foot takes a rapid step backward, but before you can rush away, Kurt rips open the door and pleads in a tiny voice as he grabs your arm. You flinch, raising up a heavy fist. But his words stop you from sending it forward.
“No! No, you can’t be here!” Your eyes blink rapidly, stuttering through your initial panic.
“What?”
“Leave!” Kurt snaps, eyes wild. “While he’s still asleep—he can’t see you here or he’ll—” There’s a splash of liquid and you shout. Kurt lets go of you quickly as he looks down at himself as his clothes get flooded from behind.
The sharp smell hits you before your ears twitch to the sound of a lighting match.
Kurt screams, snapping around as you fall backward off the steps, slamming into the ground with a panicked flinching in your lungs. A large shadow stands in the doorway. “I didn’t say anything—I didn’t—!”
Kurt Matthews goes up in flames, and in the fire and the rabid screams of sizzling flesh, you’re left shouting in pure fear. Duncan’s familiar face was illuminated by an orange and red inferno and he watches you blankly with a box of matches in his right hand.
You run off so fast, your heels get kicked off in a flurry of a chase.
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I Did
Pairing: WandaNat x Reader
Word Count: 2261
Warnings: Mentions of torture, scars, mean tony. Nothing much else.
A/n: I want to give credit to Dolls.mcu.editz on tiktok where I saw the edit that gave me this idea. So after asking for a poll of who this should be with I made this. Starts a bit angsty but it is super fluffy at the end. Soft Natasha and Wanda 🥰 Hope you all enjoy.
NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN
You sit in the meeting room surrounded by all of the Avengers. On either side of you are Natasha and Wanda, your girlfriends. The conversation that is happening is making you uncomfortable to say the least. They are all talking about what is to be done if one of you is captured and possibly tortured by hydra or another entity. What would be protocols and procedures that need to be followed during and after the event. You’re quiet throughout and don’t add anything. Tony notices this and doesn’t appreciate that you are not contributing to the conversation.
“Y/n do you have anything to add?” Tony questions a bit of malice in his words. “I would rather not.” You reply, sinking more into your seat. Wanda placing a hand on your thigh in comfort. “You always have something to add so why don’t you actually contribute to the discussion.” He pushes. You scoff and look him dead in the eye. “You would not hold up well under torture.” You calmly spoke back to him. “Oh and you would?” He raises his voice. “I did!” You just about yell back to him.
Tony pauses a moment. Tears shine in your eyes as memories flash in your mind reminding you how you even got here. You don’t notice the sad looks around you from your fellow avengers. “Y/n I didn’t mean-” Tony is cut off by you. “Save it.” You mumble as you push your seat back and quickly make your way out of the room. Your ears ringing with the memories of your life before. You can’t even hear that people are calling after you.
Tears start to stream down your face as you quickly keep walking. You feel a burning sensation in your skin as you become overwhelmed. The scars that scatter your body make it feel as if they are open wounds again. The pain and memories still flood in as your body moves on autopilot back to your room.
Natasha and Wanda quickly rise and try to start following you. “Where do you think you are going? We aren’t done with setting these protocols.” Tony quickly jumps back in as your girlfriends try to go after you. Both of them turn around specks of red swirling in Wanda’s eyes as Natasha clenches her fist. “We are going to see if our girlfriend is ok. I don’t really care what you have to say right now.” Natasha spits back her anger with the man clear to everyone in the room.
“You can check on her later. We need to get these set.” Tony still protests. Natasha slams her hands on the table, a small crack forming where her hands hit the glass table. “Listen here tin man you insulted our girlfriend. I don’t care what you decide, we are going to comfort her.” The room is tense as there is a staring contest between the two. “Well she started it.” He comes back still trying to defend himself when everyone in the room believes him to be in the wrong.
Wanda tilts her head and red swirls in her hand. “Tony, you have no clue what she has been through. You may have been captured and held but you were never tortured. Natasha was raised and trained as an assassin against her will. Bucky was taken and experimented on as they constantly brainwashed him. I was experimented on and locked in a cell.” Wanda seethes, pointing towards the living quarters. “But she was experimented on, locked in rooms, tortured for days on end. Cut up just for fun, you have no fucking clue. So if you will excuse me we are leaving and you can fuck off.” Wanda grabs Natasha’s hand and they walk out of the room. Everyone in the room is left in show of the revelation. The only other person who is not shocked is Bucky, your best friend.
The two hear arguing ensue as they walk away towards your shared bedroom. They lightly knock on the door to not scare you but they hear no movement so they slowly open the door. They slowly enter the room but don’t see you but they see the bathroom door open. Light shines out and the sound of water pelting the tile floor is heard. “Detka.” Wanda calls out for you as they make their way into the bathroom but hear no response.
Wanda and Natasha enter the bathroom, their eyes landing on your form sitting in the shower, your knees pulled tightly to your chest. You're still in your clothes and shoes as the water beats down on you. Natasha quickly moves to you going around you to your right side crocheting down as the water hits her. Wanda moving to your left side. They give each other a look and look back to you. You’re staring off into space, your body slightly rocking. Both women know that sometimes in stressful times your mind plays back what happened to you. Not just your mind but your body has a physical reaction.
“Detka can I touch you?” Natasha asks. You don’t respond. She slowly reaches out for you and gently touches your arm. You jump lightly to the contact and she pulls back, but then you give a small nod for her to continue. She reaches out again and places her hand on your back gently rubbing comforting circles. “Detka may I?” Wanda asks and you also give her a nod. She smiles and follows Natasha’s lead.
“What can we do to help sweetheart?” Wanda asks you. You finally look over to her and she can see past the water that trails down your face that you are crying, your eyes red and puffy. You open your mouth trying to speak but nothing comes out. Your eyes telling Wanda what you want her to do. “Are you sure detka?” She questions before proceeding. You lightly nod at her. She smiles. “Okay.”
Her hand goes to your head as red fills her eyes and red whisps come from her fingers. She lets what words you can’t say fill her mind before pulling her hand back, her eyes turning back to their beautiful shade of green. She gives you a soft smile and small nod. She then looks up to Natasha who is watching the interaction.
“Her scars are burning and her clothes are overwhelming.” Natasha nods at Wanda’s words. They both work together taking off your shirt as you raise your arms. Natasha then moves in front of you. She takes off your shoes and socks, tossing them into the bathroom to deal with later. Wanda has removed your undershirt and bra tossing it with the rest. Working together again they work to remove your pants and underwear. You lift your hips to make it slightly easier on them.
Wanda gently runs her hand down your arm. “Do you want me to try and help?” She gently asks you. “Please.” You mumble lightly. She kisses your head. “Of course. Which ones hurt?” She asks you. “Big ones.” You tell her. She knows which ones you mean. Her hand going to your left side the scar runs from just under your breast down to your mid thigh. Red comes from her fingers as it seeps down into the scar. The burn slowly fades as you feel her magic calming the nerves. Her hand moves to your right shoulder covered in a large burn scar repeating her action. She then moves to your left thigh a large circular scar doing as she has done with the other two. Your nerves calming as the burning and pain disappear. “Better?” She asks you.
You give her a nod. “Thank you.” You tell her finally, letting your body relax as you lean into Natasha. Her arms wrap around you. “No need to thank me detka.” Wanda leans in kissing your forehead.
“Do you want to get cleaned up in the shower and get in bed?” Natasha asks you. “Mhmm.” Your reply comes in a hum. So that is what you all do. They help you up before they take off their clothes. Throwing them into the pile already on the floor. Gently washing your body and hair.
You love the close moments with your girlfriends. Nothing sexual about it, it is just full of love and caring as they take care of you. They quickly clean themselves before helping you out of the shower. Since you have already been sensitive and overwhelmed Wanda uses her magic to dry you three off. The feeling of her warm magic eloping you and calming your nerves even more.
Natasha picks you up. Your legs wrap around her waist and you bury your head in her neck as she carries you to bed. “My strong and tough super soldier.” Natasha chuckles as you whine into her neck. Which just causes her to chuckle more and you to poke at her side. “Heyyy.” She says. Wanda giggling at your two antics.
Wanda walks around to the other side getting into the bed. She moves the covers and opens her arms as Natasha places you into Wanda’s open arms. You instantly wrap around her and lay your head on your chest. Natasha crawls into the bed behind you wrapping her arms around your waist and cuddling into your back. She places small light kisses on your shoulder causing you to smile. Wanda then peppering your face with kisses which then causes you to giggle.
“There is my sweet girl.” Wanda smiles down at you as you nuzzle into her chest. The room becomes silent as you relax into your girlfriends. The skin to skin contact is doing wonders for you. Letting you feel a closeness that you wouldn’t get with clothes on.
Natasha kisses your shoulder again. “Marry me?” Natasha breaks the silence in the room. You look up to Wanda before turning to look at Natasha. Not sure if this is just in the heat of the moment or a true proposal. Natasha smiles before letting go of your turn and reaching into the drawer of her bedside table. She pulls out two small velvet boxes. “Wanda Maximoff and Y/n Y/l/n will you two do me the honor of becoming my wifes?” Natasha asks opening the boxes to show off two gorgeous rings. Each of them is set in silver with a beautiful garnet as the center stone and surrounded by smaller black diamonds. You can’t help but cry in happiness as you and Wanda answer in unison. “Yes!”
The three of you are now crying, happy to be taking a step forward in your relationship. “I was planning to do some crazy romantic gesture for you two but this moment just seemed too perfect to pass. I wanted you two to know how much I love you and that I would fight to the ends of the earth to keep you safe.” Natasha says through happy tears as you and Wanda cry harder. She places the rings on your fingers.
You kiss Natasha hard and filled with love before pulling back and kissing Wanda. Wanda then leans over you and gives Natasha a kiss. Wanda then chuckles and shakes her head a bit. “What?” Natasha asks. Wanda says nothing as she gets up and walks towards the dresser and opens her sock drawer. You whine when her body heat leaves you. “I’ll be right back detka.” Wanda chuckles.
You can’t see what she grabs as she turns and hides what she has behind her back. She walks back to the bed and climbs back in next to you. “Great minds think alike I guess.” Wanda says, pulling two more velvet boxes from behind her back. She opens them revealing similar rings that have a ruby at its center and diamonds surrounding it.
Natasha behind you chuckles. “I guess so.” She says. “So Natasha Romanoff and Y/n Y/l/n will you marry me?” Wanda asks. You and Natasha laugh before saying yes to her. Wanda places one ring on Natasha’s finger the other she holds out for you not exactly knowing what to do with it since you have one on already. “I can wear both.” You proudly say before putting it above the other one. “Y/n/n that isn’t going to work.” Natasha laughs at your antics.
“Wait, I have an idea.” Wanda gets back up and goes over to her jewelry box. You hear her digging through before pulling something out. She walks back to you and holds out her hand. You place the ring in her hand. She then reveals a necklace. She puts the ring on the necklace before motioning for you to turn. You turn around and Wanda secures the chain holding the ring around your neck. You smiled, placing your hand on the ring before turning back and kissing her again.
As the excitement wears down a bit you three settle back into the bed relaxing. “I love you both so much and can’t wait to be your wife and for you two to be mine.” You say snuggled between the woman. “We love you too.” Both women say at the same time and kiss each of your cheeks.
This day turned from a horrible day of overwhelming panic and pain into one of the best days of your life and you couldn’t be more happy than to be alive in this moment. Holding onto the loving memory forever and excited for what your future will hold.
#wanda maximoff fic#wanda fanfic#wanda maximoff#wandanat#wandanat x reader#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda maximoff comfort#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x female#wanda maximoff x female reader#natasha x reader#wanda x reader#wanda x you#wanda x y/n#wanda fluff#natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff#natasha romanov#natasha romanoff#natasha x y/n#natasha x you#natasha x wanda#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff x fem!reader#natasha romanoff x female#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha romanoff fanfic
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football or football?
lucy bronze x reader
lucy won the very close poll.
been seeing the whole taylor swift and travis kelce thing on tiktok and got this idea.
this became longer than Iithought it’d be. was supposed to be a ficlet. oh, well.
let me know what you think!
-grey
———
For the past two weeks, you’ve been trending on twitter. At first you don’t know what it’s about, but your publicist caught you up saying how there’s a footballer — American footballer — who keeps mentioning you in interviews and on his podcast. It was honestly getting pretty annoying, not just to you, but also to your very jealous girlfriend.
You’d both decided to keep your relationship private, with you being a popular musician and your girlfriend being a top footballer in the league. Except, the media has been labeling your relationship as friends, best friends who support each other. Never once has there been an article where you both are speculated to be dating.
You’ve both been fun with it, being able to not have to hide anything, but with the whole Travis Kelce using your name to stay relevant to the media, your girlfriend is getting fed up.
“I don’t know why he keeps bringing you up? Not once have you mentioned him on anything. ‘The ball is in your court?’ Like what does that mean?” Lucy rambles.
“Honestly, I’m getting tired of it too. I’ve been so busy with touring that I didn’t even know about it until Sarah told me.” You reply, cuddling up to her on the bed, your head on her chest.
“Did Sarah tell you what you should do?”
“Sarah’s pretty much fed up like the both of us so she said it’s up to me. She doesn’t care if I tell him to fuck off, I’d do it anyway without telling her.”
“Didn’t you say he invited you to a game?”
“Yeah, he did. Why?” You we’re getting skeptical with the way Lucy has a smirk and mischievous look on her face.
“Don’t you think it’s time for us to come out, no?”
“Been together four years. Probably long overdue.”
“Well you better tell him that you’d love to accept that invitation, with a plus one of course.”
“I’m liking the way you think.”
———
Now a week later, you and Lucy were dressed up in red, arriving at Arrowhead Stadium. Lucy had a red England bucket hat on that she took off your head. You were being escorted to the friends and family box by security, running into people who recognized you. One hand holding Lucy’s the other waving to people as you passed.
Walking into the box, you were met with lots of people, Travis’ mom was the one to come and greet you.
“It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Kelce.”
“Oh, please call me Donna. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m a big fan of your music, been wanting to meet you ever since Travis said that you’d both started talking.”
“That’s so nice of you, thank you, but unfortunately all the conversations your son had with me are one sided. I’ve never once entertained anything he said. The only time I’ve texted back was to tell him I’d love to attend a game. Never been to an American Football game before.”
“Really? My son said you guys were getting along.”
“Unfortunately for him, we haven’t. But I’d like to introduce you to my partner Lucy.”
“Oh, it’s very nice to meet you as well Lucy. I’m sorry if my son cause any trouble between the two of you.”
“It’s no worries at all. Excited to watch the game.”
“You’ve got an accent. Where are you from?”
“From England.”
“Yeah, I’m a sucker for accents. But let’s not let the situation get in the way and enjoy this game.”
———
liked by fan1, fan2 and 23,749 others
ynupdates yn seen at the kansas chief’s game
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fan1 NO WAY SHES THERE
fan2 MAMA KELCE IS WITH HER
fan3 is ynvis real?!?!
fan4 is everyone gonna ignore lucy bronze right next to her
———
The game just finished. Everyone is cheering as the Chief’s won a game at home. You and Donna hug each other close, jumping up and down. Lucy was actually awestruck by all the people celebrating their team winning, thinking back to all the times fans of hers and her team celebrated like this.
Moments after, you follow Debby to the hallways, no doubt leading to her son. Travis comes out freshly showered and changed a bit after, going straight to his Mom for a hug. Then he turns to you opening his arms out for a hug, so you give him a side hug, not wanting to be mean. Cameras click nonstop towards the two of you.
“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He says to you.
“You as well. Great game you played out there.”
“Thank you. Wanna go somewhere more private so we can hear each other better without the prying eyes?”
“Yeah, sure.”
He leads towards the exit, you following behind him, your hand holding Lucy’s tightly, who Travis hadn’t acknowledged at all. Exiting towards the garage where his and your cars are parked, you relax a bit, relieved to be away from the cameras. Lucy walks a bit off to the side to let you two talk, but still close enough to hear, in case he says something he shouldn’t.
“Im glad you accepted my invite.”
“Yeah, me too. I’ve never been to or seen an American Football game.”
“American Football?”
“Well, yeah. The U.S is the only one that plays this sport. Football is played throughout the world.”
“Wow, you’re gonna be like that?” He says, thinking you’re flirting with him by saying his sport isn’t widely played.
“Be like what?”
“Never mind. But I just wanted to ask if you wanna hang out right now? Get to know each other a bit more.” He steps closer towards you, but you step back.
“I’d have to decline. My girlfriend and I have to get back to England. She’s got a couple Football matches coming up.”
“Girlfriend?” Travis is shocked by the information. “I didn’t know you were even with someone.”
“I’m surprised no one knows. They see two girls and automatically think they’re best friends or something. But, no, been with that girl right there four years. It was very obvious.” You wave Lucy over. “Travis this is Lucy Bronze, my girlfriend—”
“—Actually fiancé. Proposed a couple weeks ago, so there’s still some getting used to. It’s nice to meet you mate. Heard you’ve been talking ‘bout my girl pretty often past few weeks.”
The look on Travis’ face is laughable.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, we’re very private people. But now that you’ve met my girl after being all up in her DM’s, you’d stop using her name to stay relevant yeah? ‘Cause it’s making you look desperate.”
You didn’t interfere. You’re stood off to the side, a proud look on your face.
“Yeah, of course. Never again.”
“The last thing you should talk about in that little podcast of yours is a public apology using her name for fame like many men have in the past.”
After a moment of Lucy staring at Travis she speaks up again. It was a bit funny how intimidated he looked at Lucy, seeing as she’s almost a foot shorter than him
“Well, mate, we best be off. I’ve got some Football to be preparing for, my girl by my side always. Best of luck to you. Hope you find someone that isn’t taken.”
With that, she takes a hold of your hand, leading you to the car. You give him a little wave, leaving him speechless in the middle of the parking garage.
———
liked by leahwilliamsonn, lucybronze and 10,375,829 others
yourinstagram Thank you travis for the invite! Had a lot of fun at my first ever American Football game with my Fiancé. Congrats to you and your team on the win! #KansasCityChiefs
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lucybronze very different from football for sure
↳ yourinstagram very different
leahwilliamsonn where was my invite?
↳ yourinstagram you didn’t get one
↳ leahwilliamsonn rude
fan1 SHES ENGAGED
fan2 ynvis isn’t real thank god!
fan3 OHMYGOD ITS LUCY BRONZE ALCJHD
fan4 this is a very polite way of saying ‘keep my name out your fucking mouth’
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KINKTOBER DAY FOUR
October 13 -- Virginity
masterlist
author's note: happy friday the 13th!! this is a behemoth, but it feels right to celebrate this day with a little bit of fireworks lol!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, I might do more of those throughout the month. thank you for reading and let me know if you want to be tagged! (also, because this took me so long, it isn't as tightly edited as my other work)
summary: To be completely honest, you're struggling a little bit with you new job at the BAU. Spencer is there to help. Oh, and maybe he can help you with a few other things too.
warnings: female reader, losing virginity, fingering, oral (female receiving), grinding, discussion about masturbation and mention of sex toys
word count: 6.9k (sorry? lol)
this is adut content. 18+ plus only. minors do not interact!
Morgan smiles up at you from his desk as you scramble into the bullpen. Garcia is leaning against his desk as she raises her eyebrows. You toss your go bag under your own desk and push your hair out of your face, trying to ignore the pair.
“Rough night?” Morgan giggles, as he pushes the pencil he’s holding through his circled fingers suggestively. Garcia guffaws, but at least has the decency to playfully hit Morgan on the shoulder.
“Can you two behave for like five minutes?” You groan and try to find your ID badge. You literally just had it to get into the BAU department, but now it has mysteriously disappeared. It isn’t on your desk or in any of your pockets, but you do find a couple crumpled up dollar bills that you toss onto your desk without thinking.
The appearance of the bills causes Morgan to whistle. Emily walks over and sees the offending currency. “Damn, invite me next time!” She laughs.
You roll your eyes and don’t reply. Instead, you pull up your go bag and start to empty it. Maybe you accidentally put your badge in one of the pockets, you rationalize.
“What is going on?” JJ asks with a small laugh, gesturing to the contents of your go bag now completely strewn across the desk. Clothing and toiletries clutter the surface and you know you look like a crazy person. And maybe you are crazy. No, you definitely are crazy. Anyone who does this job is absolutely batshit crazy.
Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. You are absolutely not going to have a mental breakdown at eight in the morning in the bullpen, and definitely not in front of fucking Derek Morgan. “I can’t find my badge.” You mutter and drop down to your knees to look under your chair and desk.
You palm the dirty floor, but don’t find anything. Your friends stifle their laughter. “I would help you but this is not a crawl around on the floor kind of dress.” Penelope offers.
“Gee, thanks.” You say to yourself.
“Hey, has anyone seen –” Spencer stops in both his tracks and his sentence when he notices you on the floor. He swallows. “I found your ID badge. Over by the door. I think you dropped it.”
“Wonder boy saves the day!” Morgan exclaims.
Spencer finishes his trek over to you and offers a hand to help you up. You glance up at him, blushing slightly at the angle. Who would’ve thought you’d be on your knees in front of Dr. Reid? Okay, you’ve definitely thought about it, but your imagination didn’t normally make it happen inside Quantico and it absolutely never in front of your coworkers.
“Sorry, my hands are kind of dirty. Uh, from the floor.” You confess and take his hand as you stand up. His hand is warm and soft, like really soft. Like you could easily fall asleep to him rubbing your back in mindless patterns. As soon as you’re on your feet you slip your hand out of his to avoid your mind adding more ammunition to your middle of the night imaginations about Spencer.
“It’s okay.”
“Thanks. For the badge… and –” you take the badge from his other hand and gesture meaninglessly between the two of you.
“You’re welcome.” He smiles at you and you feel yourself redden deeper.
“Alright, alright! Time for kiss and tell!” Penelope exclaims and you blink away from your eye contact with Reid.
“What?” You whip your head around to her.
Emily makes kissing noises and musses her hair. “You. And some mystery person. Last night. Clearly.”
You turn toward her. “No. I wasn’t…” you start, your eyes flick over to Spencer as he walks toward his desk. “There’s no one.”
JJ leans on your desk and raises her brows. “Then what were you doing last night?”
You could not tell them the truth, but it was also impossible to lie to the best profilers in the country, so you give them a half truth. “Nothing. I just had a bad night.” You shrug and start to put your clothing back in your go bag, not bothering to fold it.
The truth is that it had been a bad night because you were struggling with the job. You’d been hired ten months ago and the lack of sleep, the neverending cases, and having to constantly deal with the horrific things humans can do to one another was taking its toll on you. Yesterday had been a day off and you wanted to use it to catch up on sleep, but everytime you closed your eyes, the faces of the people you couldn’t save filtered in. You hadn’t been able to get a good night’s sleep since you started and it had caused a complete breakdown last night. You had pulled up Hotch’s contact information four times ready to quit, but you knew you couldn’t do it. You were here for a reason, you’d stick it out.
Penelope hums. “Well, if it wasn’t a person… then it must’ve been alcohol.”
“Or gambling.” Emily adds.
You roll your eyes. “I don’t gamble.”
“You should. It’s a lot of fun. I’ll play you in Blackjack.” Emily smiles.
“Don’t play with her, she counts cards.” Reid murmurs absentmindedly as he reads over a file at his desk.
“I do not!”
Everyone laughs, but then the laughter dies away when Hotch comes out of his office. “Looks like no one gets to have fun for a couple of days.” Emily groans.
On the flight home after the case, you’re seated across from Spencer. Everyone else is asleep or has headphones in, even Hotch is passed out on the couch, which is rare. You still can’t sleep, so you stare out the window into the darkness as you fly over Virgina. Spencer clears his throat and you roll your head to look at him.
“Are you okay?” He asks.
You allow a small smile to form on your lips. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
He swallows and puts the book in his hand down in his lap as he leans forward slightly. “I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but you don’t really seem like yourself lately. Are you sure you’re okay?”
The sore achy feeling of wanting to cry but holding it in burns your throat. You cough softly. “I’m okay, really. Just – having trouble sleeping.” You give just a little bit of information, hoping it assuages his curiosity.
“Is it that mystery person keeping you up at night?” He asks point-blankly.
Your mouth is agape and you snap it shut, “did you just make a joke?”
“I tried to.” He smiles and you match his smile with your own.
“There really isn’t anyone.” You shake your head. “I’ve never –” you almost let the rest of the sentence slip out, but stop yourself just in time. The lack of sleep is obviously affecting you more than you thought.
“You’ve never what?” The way he moves his body forward in his seat makes your heart thrum in your chest. His body language is clear, even a rookie behavioral analyst could tell, he was prepared to listen to what you have to say. Not only that, but he actually cared.
You bite the inside of your cheek before letting out a sigh. Before you answer, you lean closer toward him, “I’ve never had sex, actually.”
His eyes widen and he clears his throat, “you’re a –”
“Virgin,” you finish for him. “I’m not ashamed or embarrassed by it. And it isn’t like I’m saving it or anything. It just hasn’t happened yet.” You shrug. “In all honesty, part of me just wants to pick some random person and get it over with.” You let out a small breathy laugh in an attempt to make you feel less awkward.
“Why haven’t you?” You meet his eyes. “I mean, just found a random person to get it over with?”
One of your shoulders lifts in a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. Like when I think about it, I realize that I’d rather have someone I trust, you know. Someone who would take care of me and not just see me as another notch on their bedpost. At least for the first time. And then after that, I’d feel more comfortable just going out and… you know.”
“Notching up some bed posts.” He nods knowingly and you giggle. He smiles, you notice that he enjoys making you laugh. A lot of the time it seems like people are maybe laughing at him or about him, but not you. He’s never the butt of the joke for you.
“Sure, Spencer.” You can’t help, but trail your eyes over him and contemplate the question that’s on the tip of your tongue. “How did you lose your virginity?”
He doesn’t seem offended or shocked by your question. “In college.”
You scoff, “weren’t you like twelve?”
“During my undergrad, yes. But I have multiple PhDs.”
“Of course, Doctor Reid.”
He shifts in his seat. “I was twenty. She was, uh, we worked in the same lab. And had the same research advisor.”
“So you two experimented on each other.” You joked.
Spencer’s face flushed and you felt a pang deep in your stomach. “In a way, yes.”
“I’m joking, Spencer.” He nods in understanding. “Were you like her boyfriend?”
“No, we just –”
“Hooked up.” You finish for him.
“For a couple months, yeah.”
Your mouth drops and you whisper, “you had a fuck buddy?”
His blush deepens. “I don’t think we ever called each other that.”
“What did you call her?”
“I don’t know. We never talked about it. I finished my doctoral thesis before her.” He shrugs.
“Wow, who knew.”
“What?”
“Morgan isn’t the only playa on the team.” You giggle and scrunch your nose, feeling the stress of the last few weeks dissipate from your shoulders.
“I’m not…” he laughs and shakes his head. He glances out the window. “We’re landing soon.” He swallows and leans back in his seat. It was terrible, but you had a strong urge to step across to his seat and straddle his lap and kiss him until you were both breathless. You turn your gaze back to the window and try to force the image away.
Your car wouldn’t start. You forcefully turned the key in the ignition again, and it sputtered and died. As you hit your steering wheel, you let out a frustrated noise and hit it again. You turn to grab your cell phone from your bag to call a tow truck and jump when you hear a knock on your driver’s side window. Spencer stands there apologetically, waving his hand with his closed mouth smile.
He steps aside when you open the car door and get out. “Is everything okay?”
“No.” You laugh bitterly. “My car won’t start and I need to get a tow.” You bite your lip, but can’t stop the tears that bubble over.
Spencer freezes, but then reaches out and touches your shoulder lightly. “It’s okay.” For some reason his comfort makes you cry harder. “Oh, uh, here,” he mutters and pulls you into a full hug. He squeezes you tight against him and rubs your back as you cry into his chest.
“I’m sorry, Spencer.” You blubber into his shirt.
“No, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”
“Is it?” You pull away from his chest to look in his eyes. “I’m failing at this job and –”
“Woah, failing at this job?” He interrupts. “Who said that?” His brows furrow angrily.
“No one.” You blink away the tears stuck in your eyelashes and Spencer reaches up and swipes away one that trails down your cheek.
“You’re not failing. You’re excelling. You’re incredible. Truly, I mean that. I wouldn’t lie to you. I promise.” He swallows and you realize how close to his face you are, his hands wrapped around your back.
You don’t stop yourself, even though you know you should, as you lean into him. His eyes flutter down to your lips, but he doesn’t pull away, so you keep going. Your lips touch his lightly, barely there before you back away.
His hands tighten on you and pull you closer to him. He chases your lips with his and kisses you back, your own hands are on his chest and they twist into his shirt. You kiss him fervently, his hands traveling to your lower back, arching you into him. A moan escapes from the back of your throat and it breaks the spell. Spencer pulls away from the kiss.
His lips are pink and shimmery and you want to kiss him again. Desperately. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs, his tongue slipping out and swiping across his bottom lip.
“What for?” You blink.
“Kissing you.”
“I kissed you.”
“I kissed you back.”
“And you should do it again.”
His eyes dart to your lips. He wants to, you can tell, but he stops himself. “We shouldn’t.”
“Not here, at least.” You glance behind him and pray that the parking garage is completely empty. If your coworkers acted the way they did this morning about a nonexistent mystery person, you can only imagine their reactions if they saw you making out with Spencer.
“It’s inappropriate.”
“I don’t care.”
“There’s paperwork.”
“Not if we don’t tell anyone.”
“That’s not how that works.” He laughs, you can feel the vibrations of the sound against his chest.
“Do you always play by the rules, Dr. Reid?”
He swallows harshly, you watch the movement of his Adam’s apple bob against the tight skin of his neck. “I’ll drive you home.” He deflects.
You reach up on your toes and kiss him again. His hands spread on your back and press you against him and your hands pull him tighter to you, wrinkling his shirt. You hear footsteps and both of you step away from each other instantly, putting distance between your bodies. You turn your head to see a person you don’t recognize come into view from the other side of the parking garage. They don’t even glance in your direction. The hammering in your chest slows and you turn back to Spencer. He runs a hand through his hair.
“Grab your bag.” He says with an authority that makes you spring into action quickly. Neither of you say anything as you follow him down the rows of agents’ cars to his car. He opens the passenger side for you, the vintage car creaks in protest. He closes the door and you watch from the rearview mirror as he walks around the back of the car toward the driver’s side, his hands in his pocket.
He slides into the car seat and starts the car, it rumbles to life loudly. “I normally don’t even drive to work, just take public transportation. But I had an errand the other day.” He explains absentmindedly as he checks the rearview mirror and slowly backs out of the park spot.
“It’s kismet.”
“I always thought it was interesting that the English pilfered that word from the Turkish language. Considering words like fate and destiny already existed. Some etymologists attribute it to the rampant orientalism at the time. You know, like kismet was more mysterious or mystical or exciting than just simple fate.” He rambles and drives you out of the parking garage. A heady want begins to grow in your lower stomach. “And of course, the Turkish developed the word from an Arabic word meaning portion or lot. Which is fascinating.”
“It is.” You say earnestly.
He glances over at you sheepishly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble.”
“Don’t apologize. I like it.”
His eyes are already back on the road, but you can see his cheeks redden in a slight blush. “Where do you live?” He asks and you tell him. It isn’t a long drive, well it isn’t this late at night. Your morning commute is a nightmare. He gives you a brief look, “why did you join the BAU?”
You exhale a long breath before you answer. “I wanted to help people I guess. Which is so cliche, but it’s the truth. Like it isn’t even about putting bad guys away or whatever. I just want to make the world safer. For everyone.” You look over at him and he meets your gaze for a split second.
“You are doing a good job.” He states. You shake your head. “I mean it. You are. You’re making a difference. You’re helping people.”
“But how do you keep your head above water? I mean… how do you not let it beat you down?”
“We have each other. And you focus on the good.”
You sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, letting his words sink in. “Thanks, Spencer. For everything today.”
He pulls into a parking spot in front of your apartment building. “I’ll walk you up.”
You go to unbuckle your seatbelt, but it doesn’t budge. You try again, but again, nothing.
“Oh, sometimes it sticks. Here,” he leans across the middle and reaches for your seatbelt buckle. His fingers graze the outside of your thigh and inhale sharply, electricity buzzing from the simplest of touches. He unbuckles you and you let the seat belt slide across your body, he doesn’t move away from you. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin, it enflames you.
“Spencer,” you whisper and turn your head toward him. His eyes slowly trail down your face toward your lips and then back up to your eyes. You can’t take it, so you lean forward and kiss him again. Tentative at first, waiting for him to respond. He does, his hands pulling your face closer to his, deepening the kiss. When you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip you open for him, let him explore and learn. You sigh into his mouth, your hands find their way to the back of his neck.
He slips away from you, breathless, but starts to kiss down your jaw. He mutters your name against your skin. You feel the warmth of his kisses travel down your spine toward your core.
“Come upstairs.” You sigh, when he bites lightly on a sensitive spot on your neck.
“I can’t. I shouldn’t.” He pants against your skin.
“I want you.”
He groans, deep and frustrated, and moves to lean his forehead against yours, both of your heavy breathing intermingling and becoming one. “You shouldn’t want me.”
“Why not? And don’t say the bullshit about us working together. I don’t care, Spencer. I trust you. I want you.”
He backs his head away from your forehead so that he can look into your eyes, his thumb against your cheek brushes back and forth. “You trust me?”
“With everything in me.” He kisses you again, softly, tenderly.
“I’ll take care of you.”
“I know.” You kiss him back and then pull away. He nods and you return it with a nod of your own.
His tongue glides across his lip and he swallows. You blink and he’s moving out of his seat and already at the passenger side door before you can reach for the handle. He opens it quickly and helps you out. It’s old school, but it makes your heart stutter and start. When he takes your hand in his, it feels like two magnets being drawn together. He slams the car door shut and you lead him up to your apartment.
Once you unlock your front door and guide him in, you shut the door and turn to look at him. You flick on the light. He stares at you and asks, “you’re sure?”
“Positive.” You step toward him and reach out to slide your hands across his stomach and then land on his waist. “Do I have to kiss you first again, or –” you don’t have to finish your question before his lips are on yours. His kisses are not tentative or searching, they’re needy and impassioned. Before long, you’re clawing at his shirt, untucking it from his pants and then reaching up to undo his tie.
He stops you as he breathes laboriously. “Wait, we should slow down.”
You continue to work on his tie, perpetually crooked, but now just an obstacle to what you need desperately. “I don’t wanna go slow.”
He moans and you finally get his tie undone and whip it off. “No, we should.”
Your fingers work deftly against his buttons, one at a time, and you look up at him. “I’m a virgin, but I’m not inexperienced. I’m not a delicate flower.”
His expression changes, his eyes grow heavy and he quirks his jaw. “Not inexperienced?”
“I’m not.” You almost sound like a petulant teenager.
“How far?”
“What?”
“How far have you gotten?” Your hands stop almost halfway through the third to last button. You don’t answer. His voice deepens, gravely and sexy, “you’ve clearly kissed before.” You nod. “Have you had someone feel your breasts?” As he asks the question, his hand reaches up and caresses your breast. You lean into the touch. “Has anyone put their mouth on your breasts, marking you as theirs? Rolling your nipple between their teeth?” He inclines his head into the crook of your neck and presses a hot kiss there. “Have you ever had somebody's mouth on your clit?”
Your breathing is sharp and jagged, but Spencer simply continues. “Would you let someone use their tongue to make you come? Or maybe even their fingers? Pump their fingers into until you're squirming?”
“Spencer,” you plead.
He continues to massage your breast as his other hand slips under your shirt and trails across your hips and stomach. “Or do you just mean that you’ve touched yourself? You’ve laid in bed and explored this beautiful body. Know just exactly how to make yourself shiver from your own fingers.”
You’re almost overwhelmed by his touch, his lips on your skin, and his words, your head is spinning, but you’re also desperate for more.
“We’re going to take it slow.” He informs you and it isn’t up for discussion. “Not because I think you’re a delicate flower.” He throws your own words back at you. “But because I want to take my time with you. I want to learn everything about your body. I want to touch every single inch of you with my hands. I want to make you come, I want to feel you come. Over and over again.” You’re practically shaking in his hands when his lips and teeth scrap across your jaw and to your lips. He takes them with his and you’re like clay on a potter’s wheel, malleable and completely at his will, waiting to be crafted into his masterpiece.
“Do you want that?” He breathes on your lips.
You somehow know instinctively that he wants a verbal confirmation, so you answer, “yes.”
He continues to kiss you, deeply, almost like a starved man tasting his first bit of sustenance. You answer with your own fervency. His hand at your hip squeezes and pulls you tight against him and you feel his want against you. It makes you moan. You grind your body against him and his grip tights even more.
“Bedroom. Where’s your bedroom?” He stutters, but doesn’t stop kissing you and you don’t stop either. Your hands are in his hair, pulling and twisting, holding him impossibly close to you. You didn’t know kissing could make you feel this way, simultaneously feverish and desperate, but also insatiable. You felt like you could kiss Spencer for a lifetime and never tire of it. He wasn’t close enough even though your bodies were pressed together, you needed more. The only thought in your brain is simply, more, more, more.
He pulls away from you, both of you taking heaving breaths. His lips were perfectly pink, your body thrummed with the knowledge that you caused such a change in him.
“Bedroom.” The single word went straight to your core. You take his hand and guide him to your bedroom.
Once you turn on the light, he’s behind you, pressing into you. You can feel every part of him, and he kisses the back of your neck. He’s back to being soft and gentle. He brings his hands to your stomach and inches them under your shirt until he has your breasts in his hands.
Your breasts feel heavy and logically you know why. Blood has rushed to them, just as it has rushed to your other erogenous zones, and it is sending a signal to your brain to release oxytocin. But you’re realizing that logic has no place in your head when Spencer’s hands and mouth are on you. Logic means nothing to you at this moment.
“You’re so beautiful.” He compliments as he fondles your breasts, your head lolls back against his chest. He angles his head so he can kiss your cheek. “You distracted me that very first case you were on. Did you know that?”
“No,” your eyes flutter shut when he moves down to kiss your jaw.
“I thought you were so gorgeous. After the case, I went home to my apartment and touched myself as I imagined you. I felt so ashamed, I couldn’t even look you in the eyes the next morning.”
Your mind wanders back to all those months ago. “I thought I had done something wrong,” you remember.
“No, it was me. I was wrong. But I couldn’t stop. I mean you can feel what you do to me.” He was right, you could distinctly feel the effect you had on him.
“I thought of you too.” You confess.
“You did?” His voice is low and breathy and you nod. “In that bed.” He ticks his head to gesture toward it. “Tell me.”
You feel yourself heat with blush. His thumbs brush across your nipples through your bra and your breath gets caught in your throat. You swallow and answer. “I would lie there, normally because I couldn’t sleep. And then I’d think about you. Your hands, I’d think about your hands.”
“My hands?” He squeezes your breasts.
You nod and answer simultaneously, “yes. I’d imagine them on my body, touching me.” He brushes your nipples again and you shiver. “And I’d slip my hand into my underwear, and rub my clit. Pretend it was you.” His hands abandon your breasts and slide around to your back. You step forward as he takes off your shirt and then unhooks your bra and helps you out of it. His hands on your hips turn you to face him.
“I knew you were beautiful. But you’re perfect.” Your instinct is to feel self conscious under his gaze, but you push it away when you notice the admiration in his eyes.
You reach for him and finish the job of unbuttoning his shirt and then peeling it off of him. “Fair is fair.” You say. He laughs, but his laugh dies in his throat when your nails scratch down his chest.
Your hands explore his exposed chest and back, feeling the muscle move underneath soft skin, and he works to rid you of your pants. You use him for balance as you step out of your pants, but as soon as you're standing on two feet again, he backs you toward your bed.
When the back of your legs hit the bed, you allow yourself to fall back onto it. He leans over you, your legs open for him and he kisses you again. Your hands continue their previous tour of his back, now feeling how his shoulder blades move when he grinds against you.
The first time he does it, you throw your head back in a moan. Even though you have multiple layers of fabric between you, you can still feel the heat radiating through you. He does it again and you arch up to meet his movement. When he does it a third time your nails scratch down his back.
He makes a low noise from the back of his throat and you know that your panties are soaked. His lips take a journey down your body, kissing and nipping at your clavicle, your chest, spending a significant amount of time on both of your breasts, and down your stomach. Your clawing at his back by the time his mouth meets the band of your underwear.
“Look at you,” he whispers. His thumb rubs lightly at your clit over the fabric. Your thighs clench and he laughs. “Keep them open for me, baby.” You mewl at the pet name. “You like that? Being called baby?”
“Yes.” You groan out when his thumb repeats his earlier action.
He does it again, almost unbearably slow. “I want to taste you so bad. I’ve wanted to know how good you taste for so long.” His voice is strained.
“You can. I want you to.”
His hands skate up to the hem of your underwear and you lift your hips slightly as he pulls them down. You open your legs for him again and he swallows. “Stunning.” His mouth is on you before you have time to process the word.
Almost instantly, he moans against you, the vibrations causing your toes to curl. Your hands clench your duvet and he pulls away for a split second, “touch me.” You do what he asks, coiling your fingers into his hair. He laps at your clit, creating a pattern and rhythm that makes your buck up to meet him. His hands grip at your hips and hold you in place.
“Spencer, oh fuck,” you ramble. He answers by moaning against you again and then sucking your clit into his lips. You bite down a scream. The heat at the base of your spine spreads across your body. “Oh my god. Oh god.”
He alternates between lapping and sucking at your sensitive bud, your nails practically digging into his scalp, your toes curling, as you try to catch your breath. Just at the moment where it feels like too much, your body clenches and crashes over the edge of your ecstacy, his name falling from your lips repeatedly.
He continues to lap at you softly until your muscles relax in his arms and then he looks up at you, smiling and his lips glistening, “you’re incredible.” You pull him up, so that you can kiss him. You kiss the taste of you off his lips. He brings his head up to look at you, pushes away the stray hairs stuck to your forehead. “Are you going to get sick of me calling you beautiful?” He smiles.
“No, I don’t think I could.” He smiles into another kiss. His hands travel down your body and as soon as one of his fingers slides across your folds, the flames reignite.
“Is this okay?” He asks.
“I want all of you.” One of his fingers slips inside of you and then he pulls it out. He slides it back in and then repeats his action, starting slow and building up to a comfortable tempo, as he continues to kiss you. Nothing about his movements is frantic, but rather languid and relaxed, gently stoking the growing fire inside of you. You grind your hips against his finger and he smoothly adds a second finger. The feeling is different, but not bad as you feel yourself accommodating the extra digit.
“Alright?” He checks in with you, looking into your eyes.
“It feels good.” It’s not like the times you’ve laid here in this bed with your fingers inside you. It’s an entirely divergent sensation that you don’t think your imagination would have been able to conjure. “Really good.”
“Yeah?” He stops sliding his fingers in and out and instead leaves them inside as he pumps them, almost as if he’s searching. He finds what he’s looking for when you gasp and cling to his shoulder.
“Yeah.” You nod furiously, biting down on your lip. He’s no longer building the tension within you. Instead, it’s like he’s playing with a taut rubber band, waiting for it to snap.
You feel your eyes start to close, wanting to roll to the back of your head. “Keep your eyes on me, baby. I want to see. Want to see you come apart for me.”
You force your eyes open. “Spencer…”
“I know, relax into it.” His thumb starts to rub your clit. “You’re doing so good.”
“Oh my god,” you start to mutter and ramble again, a mixture of curses and Spencer’s name. You never break eye contact with him. It’s intense, but also intimate.
“Are you gonna come for me, baby?”
You let out a whine in answer and feel a muscle in your thigh twitch. Your core clenching on his fingers, the wet sounds of his fingers inside of you filling the room. The grip on his shoulders is tight and you hope it isn’t painful, but he barely seems to notice, all of his attention is on you. The mixture of admiration and lust on his features is almost too much. But you’re realizing that Spencer Reid never does anything part way or half-assed. Once Spencer puts his mind to something, he’s going to accomplish it. Not only that, but he’s going to put an almost Herculean effort into it. And somehow, you’ve become something he’s put his mind to. The thought makes you lean up and kiss him.
You kiss him until a gasp separates your lips from him. “So perfect,” he muses. Your core constricts and contracts on his fingers. Your breathing is short and your legs feel like they’re shaking, but you can’t really tell. “Come for me.”
One more shaky breath and then you do, the rubber band snaps. Your body arcs up into him and he swallows your shout with his lips, kissing you deeply. Again, he slows down but doesn’t stop, guiding you down from your high. When he does pull his fingers from you, you watch as he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean.
This time you don’t need him to rekindle the flame of need inside of you, it's already there. You reach between your bodies for his belt. Together, the two of you make quick work of the last of his clothing. And then he’s kissing you again, both his hands and your own caress, rub, and grab at each other. You reach down lower and lower, until you meet his hardened length with your hand. You grip the base and he falters.
“I’d love that. Really, I want it so bad. But I won’t last, baby.” You squeeze him again and smile up at him, fluttering your eyelashes. “You’re a vixen.” He laughs, kissing you.
“I want you.”
“Fuck. I don’t have a condom.” You blink, it’s the first time you’ve ever heard Spencer drop the f-bomb. You giggle.
“I have some.” One of his eyebrows raises in question and you shrug. “I like to be prepared. They’re over there.” You gesture toward your nightstand and he stretches over to open it.
“Oh,” he lets out a surprised gasp and just then you remember what else is in your top drawer. “I guess you don’t just use your fingers to masturbate, do you?” He laughs.
You reach up behind you and grab a pillow and toss it at him. He dodges it and it falls to the floor. “Like I said, I’m a virgin, not inexperienced.”
Spencer grabs the box of unopened condoms, opens it and pulls one out. He carefully places the box back, his eyes lingering on your menagerie of sex toys.
“What are you doing?” You ask.
“I have an eidetic memory. I’m remembering… for later.” He smiles and you feel your heart speed up, pounding against your ribcage. You hadn’t had time to discuss anything past tonight. His smile falters. “I mean – I don’t mean to presume anything. Only if you want.”
You reach over to him and pull him back toward you, kissing him. “I do. I want there to be a next time. Other times.”
He looks down at you, searching. “Good, I do too.” He kisses you and only pulls away to put on the condom. He continues his kisses as he moves to position himself, spreading your legs for him. He brushes his thumb over your clit again and you moan. When he lifts his head from yours and glances up at you. You nod your head.
You feel the tip of him at your entrance, pressing against you, but not fully in. That’s all he does at first, until you move on him and allow him to slip into you. He works himself into you, allowing you to stretch around him. It isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s definitely a new sensation. None of your toys feel like him. Both of you watch as his penis slowly disappears inside of you. He pushes in the last inch with a thrust. There’s a flash of a pinch and you let out a breath.
“Are you okay?” He asks.
“Yeah, just give me a second.” He nods, licks his bottom lip and then resumes his circles on your clit. It only takes a few seconds for you to relax on him. You grind your hips, somehow taking him deeper. He groans. “Move, Spencer. Please.”
He inches out of you and then pushes back in without any urgency or force. He starts the same pattern and rhythm his fingers had used earlier that night. The feeling of him moving inside of you is incredible, you can feel him dragging against your walls. His body against yours, skin to skin, more connected than you’ve ever been with anyone else. Between the feeling of him pumping into and his movement against your clit, it doesn’t take long until you’re clawing at his back, wordlessly asking him for more. He answers, creating a relentless rhythm that you grind your hips to match.
At some point, your eyes had shut and you hadn’t realized and so you force them open again, wanting to watch Spencer come apart just like he watched you. “You feel so good. Better than I could have imagined.” He starts to ramble. “I can’t believe I get to feel you like this. So good.”
His eyes shoot down to watch himself slip in and out of you. “Fuck.” He cusses again. You decide you like when he curses, especially if you’re the reason. He moves his hips and his cock finds the same spot his fingers found earlier and you clench around him as you let out a deep groan.
You lose track of time, it moves at a snail’s pace, but also at the speed of light. Time ceases to exist to you, your world shrinks down to only the two of you, everything else falls away. And then you’re falling again, diving headfirst into an orgasm.
“Yes, yes. I love feeling you like this. Oh my god… oh fuck. I’m gonna –” he sputters.
You reach up and pull his lips to yours, kissing him through his own orgasm. He shakes above you as he pumps into you with a final harsh push. And then when he peaks, he slowly fucks into you through his orgasm. He continues to kiss you until both of your breathing returns to normal and then he lifts his head to look at you.
He smiles and you can’t help it when a huge toothy smile appears on your own face.
“Are you okay?” He inquires.
“I’m perfect.”
His hand reaches up and caresses the side of your face. “You are.”
The next morning you walk into the office still smiling. Everyone is around the desks, including Spencer. He glances over at you and nods in greeting, as if you hadn’t just said goodbye to him a few hours ago, the first golden rays of dawn streaming through your bedroom window.
“Good morning.” You say to everyone. You set your go bag down at your desk and Emily smiles over at you, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Oh, Morgan. You had it all wrong.” She teases.
Morgan looks at Emily and then over to you. “What?”
“That is the look of a woman who got it real good last night.” Emily laughs, loud and brash. You smile with her and Penelope gasps.
“Tell. Me. Everything.” She runs over to you and grabs onto your arm.
“I have no idea what you mean.” You reply innocently.
JJ smirks. “Oh, she got it real good last night.”
“Is sex all you guys think about?” You joke. The girls laugh and Morgan still seems confused. Spencer is focused on the file on his desk, but his finger isn’t moving down it and you know he isn’t reading it. “I had a good night last night.” You give a small inch, just to stave them off. Penelope squeals. You grab her hand. “And that’s all I’ll say about it.”
“Boo!” Emily exclaims.
Penelope almost pouts. “Oh, you are the worst!”
“I know!” You laugh gleefully. Spencer looks up for only a split second, but you catch it and he smiles at you.
“I’ll find out eventually. You do know that, right?” Penelope warns.
“You are terrifying.” You squeeze her arm and turn away from the group to start on your mountain of files. It’s true that eventually everyone would probably find out about you and Spencer, but for now the two of you get to live in your own personal world. You smile to yourself.
tag list: @spenciesprincess @catalinasroom @tylevx @alicentswife @ingrid69rs @sobbingcryingattsizzles @infinitegalaxiesworld
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#kinktober#kinktober 2023#my writing#ohh my god i did not mean to write this much lmao
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WW3 will be white supremacists vs everyone else.
Not a singular Western country in support of Israel is innocent of colonization, war crimes, treaty violations, or having white supremacists in politics.
Each one of them has been ignoring protests and strikes in their own countries for human rights and protections. Human rights and protections that have thus far been denied btw. Meanwhile they give themselves raises and protections against protesters and so called "terrorists." They inflate military budgets while their people grow more agitated and they don't care.
Not a single one of them have a thriving, happy people.
Historically they've been awful for Black, indigenous, and immigrant populations despite many of their countries being founded on immigration. And even in modern times all of them currently have trials going on to combat state violence such as genocide, rights violations, or police brutality.
None of them have ever been paragons of human rights. None of them represent the world's moral compass least of all Germany.
So why and how is it that you can look at the USA and German support of Israel and your thought is "finally!" instead of seeing a red flag.
White supremacists are teaming up in a Big way.
And this time they're letting white Jewish people count as white which seems to have short-circuited ur brains so let me remind y'all that Nazis hate Jewish people but not every white suprmacist is a Nazi. And white supremacists have a long history of providing white Jewish people with conditional white privileges
For example here in the USA while white men who owned some land could vote, the same could not be said of white Jewish people who were barred from it in some colonies by language that stated you needed to accept Jesus as your savior. But white Jewish ppl could vote & could own land elsewhere when Black and native communities couldn't do that anywhere at all.
White supremacists exploiting white Jewish people for their vote or political support is nothing new and continues to be no surprise.
We can look at Trump's attempt to do exactly that as recently as 2019. We know he isn't an ally of any Jewish person anywhere and yet here he is trying to get right-wingers hyped up with virtue signaling.
The same article addressed how this right wing rhetoric and trying to incite it among Republicans is itself antisemitic and careless.
The past 24 hours have cemented President Donald Trump's reputation as America's "racist in chief." After tweeting a hateful diatribe about how four Democratic congresswomen of color should "go back" to where they came from, the President attempted to justify his racism with accusations that these members of Congress are anti-Israel. On Monday morning, he tweeted that these lawmakers "have made Israel feel abandoned by the U.S." and cited South Carolina Senator Lindsey Graham, who called them all "anti-America" and "anti-Semitic."
[...]And despite his feigning concern about anti-Semitism, nearly three-quarters of Jews feel less secure than they did two years ago and the majority of Jews attribute their rising insecurity to Trump's policies. More specifically, many are concerned about Trump encouraging right-wing extremism and Republicans tolerating white nationalism within their ranks. In fact, according to a March Gallup poll, more than 70% of Jews continue to disapprove of Trump and only 16% now identify as Republicans.
....then Biden supported a fucking genocide in the name of trying to establish a safe place for Jewish people. When we all know his interest is actually oil in the middle east.
There is no fucking way either of them or the USA cares about any Jewish people or had their best interest in mind.
So that entire argument aside....
We can't keep letting white supremacists play these identity politic games and turning us on each other so we're keeping each other oppressed instead of helping each other be free.
Right now there are white queer people in my asks calling me (an Ojibwe) a Russian psyop for not wanting to vote blue.
That's the shit I'm talking about.
At the end of the day I don't want anyone except white supremacy and white supremacists to be decimated. I want a liberated and free people all over the globe.
Is that what you want too?
Then we have got to start focusing on the big picture. You are not my enemy and I am not yours. Our enemies are the same and they are unified.
We should be too.
International solidarity against white supremacy for the first time, for forever.
#whiteness#white supremacy#solidarity#ojibwe#free palestine#free DRC#free sudan#activism#protest#equality#social justice#allies#allyship#human rights#self determination#turtle island#palestine#Gaza#usa#Germany#yemen#america#current events#identity politics#free gaza#queer#lgbt#ndn#landback#capitalism
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Hot Ghouls in your area 7
masterpost
Chapter 7
…Jason slowly put down the book and turned it cover up, shell-shocked from that interaction. He lifted his phone and took a photo. He sent it to Roy.
“What do you see?” He typed. Jason bit his lower lip and tried not to scowl while he waited for a response.
It wasn’t that Jason was unused to conflict. Jason was great at conflict. He won every conflict! (Almost.) But what the hell had this shit been? Why had that guy been so pissy about the book? What the hell was wrong with the book that Jason didn’t see?
“Gibberish?” Roy texted back a few minutes later. “It gives the impression of wonky Cyrillic to me. But it's got a terrible energy to it. The hell is that?”
Jason looked at the cover. To his eyes, there was a serif font declaring it Sense and Sensibility Universe D version 5.
“Thanks,” he sent, ignoring the question and then the barrage of heart emojis. Shit, okay.
That answered one question. But it didn't answer enough. What the fuck had that college kid been seeing that was so offensive?
‘And why'd he think we would meet again?’
Jason pushed deep, deep down any awareness that he hoped it was true. That had been weird enough that it would bother him forever if he didn’t get answers.
He sort of hated the idea of getting his nosy family involved, but they would ask different and in some ways, less annoying questions than other groups he could poll. They'd know not to lie to him, at least. So he sent the picture on to the family group chat with the same question and grimly finished his tea.
The elderly proprietor came out then and noticed that her other customer was gone. She looked confused for a moment, scanning the seat to see if his book bag was still there. She picked up the cash he'd left on the table and then started stacking dishes.
‘He’s a regular,’ Jason guessed, honing in on the opportunity to learn more. He flipped the book open but held the apparently offensive cover down towards the table, out of her line of sight. He needed to know what had gone so wrong. Jason wasn’t normally the kind of person that cute college kids had beef with.
He'd never been in this café before, his intuition had just told him to duck inside.
“I think he forgot something,” Jason offered casually, pretending to just look up from his book. “Ran out real quick in a panic.”
The lady let out a soft “Ahhh,” of comprehension. “Something for his afternoon class, perhaps,” she agreed, looking a little happier.
“Yeah, it looked like he was getting ready to settle in for a long study session and then he bolted,” Jason lied, watching her underneath his lashes. He had been paying a little more attention than he ought to when the guy came in. He was Jason’s type, aside from the thing where he’d hated Jason’s face for no apparent reason-
‘No, actually, everyone I’ve ever been into hated me on sight.’
Ouch. As Jason digested that embarrassing truth, the owner continued talking.
“He does that,” she agreed, apparently not thinking it was odd at all for them to talk about the habits of another customer. “Tuesdays and Thursdays. He's a sharp cookie, did you know that?” She continued, and oh, she had halfway adopted this college kid, huh? There was warmth and a hint of pride in her tone.
Jason valiantly swallowed the snort. “He looks familiar, but I don't think we have classes together,” he fished.
“Mm, he's doing some kind of math and engineering,” the lady helpfully supplied. She gave Jason her full attention as she stood up from the table. “And you?”
“Modern language and literature,” Jason said, and sort of wished it was true. He didn't really have the time. Did he? Spoiler was a full-time student, wasn't she? …Huh.
While he chewed that over, the lady had drifted a couple steps closer.
“...Those are two meaningfully different courses?”
“Modern language is learning additional languages, I'm doing Russian and Greek right now,” Jason lied easily. He was fluent in both already. “Literature is mostly classics, for my purposes. I'm focusing on Regency Lit.”
She looked very interested, but she detoured away to deposit the dirty dishes behind the counter. They kept up a light conversation about books as she wiped off the table and reset for the next customer.
When she left, he finally had the chance to check his messages. There was a full-on fight in the group chat. The last message was from Stephanie. She had tagged him and asked, “Is this an optical illusion??? Like that dress?”
Ah, fuck. Jason felt a rock settle in his stomach at the confirmation that something hinky was going on.
‘I can’t read this in public if it’s saying something I can’t control or even know.’
Fucking hell. Jason scrolled back up and checked. Damian listed the correct title. Dick saw what, ‘I thought was Greek at first.’ Stephanie might have been joking but she argued vigorously that it was pictographs that started with a bird. Drake had sent “You rediscovered Minoan Linear A? Cool.” and then not participated in any follow-up discussions. Duke had sent only a stream of confused and tearful emojis.
Cass had marked it read.
“Fair enough, I guess,” Jason muttered to himself. Resentfully he put the book back in his bag.
What had that guy seen? If he’d just seen something foreign but illegible he wouldn’t have gotten so pissy about it. And who the hell had he been, anyway? Why was he so special?
Well. That was something to do with his afternoon. Jason paid up his bill and gave Phyllis his well-wishes for her doctor’s appointment tomorrow on the way out. Phyllis was a good contact, he would definitely come back for more of her jasmine tea no matter how mad that guy got at him.
…Jason really needed a name.
And found…
He headed to Gotham University and used the student computers to look up departments and then hack into the registrar. Jason flipped through photos until he found his guy: Danny Fenton, 19, sophomore double-major in the Engineering department. Good grades, no notes on his account about academic dishonesty or conflict.
'Little weird to meet two Dannys in a 24 hour period.'
Jason searched the guy online and found…
He let his mouth drop open in disbelief at the batshit insane website design he had stumbled into. The Fenton family had a website, apparently, and they had maybe let a 7 year old design it in 2008. The colors… The lack of centering… The.. the neon choices.
His eyes watered. It took a while to fight down his aesthetic grief and actually start comprehending the text.
He had expected this to be like, an online family newsletter. And it was! The link he had followed detailed “Danno going to college in the big city!!!” The boy himself looked extremely resigned in the attached photo. Seriously, Jason had seen much less mortified mugshots. The thing was, that on the same page, alongside posts about other kids going college (Jazzypants!) and someone called Alicia recovering from “supergout!” with "her eight favorite toes remaining!!!", there was also a lot of mention of ghosts.
Like, a lot.
Jason scrolled in pained disbelief. There were photos that showed extremely weird and dismayed green people obviously flinching away from a camera. A beautiful green woman with her hair halfway over her face snarled through a flood of smoke under the title “Wishywish Ghostie Interviewed: Learn what drives her generous heart!” and an ugly robot motherfucker was seen fleeing under the caption, “Skalker indicates that spook is a GHOST SLUR!”
….Was it a shit post? Just one long shitpost? It had to be a joke site.
Well. No. Jason buried his face in his hands and came to terms with the horrible fact that not only were ghosts real, he was accidentally married to one and this bombastic midwestern family already knew about it. This was his best lead for getting that 'beyond death do you part' separation.
They had been blasting the existence of ghosts for all the world to read, and it hadn’t been news. The Justice League didn’t know about this whole society. The journalism done by– Jason lifted his head to check– Jack Fenton interviewing clearly very unwilling ghosts was the only primary source that he knew of.
He took a few deep breaths. He came to terms with grief. He decided to block his family from any further involvement in this shitshow, for what remained of his dignity. And he grimly noted down Jack Fenton’s email.
Jason cleared this history and closed down his tabs, feeling a decade older than he had when he had entered the library. He ignored the sultry ‘come talk to me’ eye contact that the student worker was shooting him from behind the counter as he slouched out.
He stopped for a moment on top of the stairs to watch campus move. He saw the theatre building and the modern language headquarters from his vantage point, along with about half of the student center. There was just a trickle of foot traffic between buildings along paved paths. A few people were hanging out on blankets in the grass. An old man in a suit was taking a phone call next to a crawling rose garden.
‘Maybe I should go to school.’
Well. After this shit was sorted out. Obviously he could not go to school before he got divorced. It would be torturous to hang out with cute boys his age and be committed to some hot dead mermaid who didn’t even wanna make out with him sloppy. Loser shit on absolutely every level, goddamn.
Jason shoved his hands in his pockets and jogged down the stairs. He kept an eye out for Danny, but had no luck.
Not that he cared. It was interesting that he had a lead: Danny clearly had some connection to ghosts, and he had been able to read…
‘Maybe he realized it was a ghost’s property and he thought I stole it?’ Jason realized in a stroke of inspiration. That made more sense. If he knew enough to recognize it as ghost language or whatever, then he might have felt affronted about Jason having it.
He went through his mental checklist to pick out what he did and didn’t know. Once he felt he had a hang on his priorities, he beelined to his own laptop in his favorite safehouse and started looking into the Fentons in more depth.
It was a great lead. It was suspiciously good, in fact, he thought as he found Jack Fenton’s online family newsletter again. What were the odds that he would run into Danny Fenton in a cafe that Jason had never even been in before? It had been a total fluke that he’d entered. He’d been walking past to a favorite place and then just had the urge to try the dark little family cafe.
‘…Ah, fuck’, Jason sighed. More ghost shit. It had to be. Something about Danny Fenton’s ghost shit had registered to him now that he’d been exposed to ghost central.
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In the back of hot topic
From my poll a couple days ago ❤️❤️ 🫶
Tags/ warnings: public smut, dressing room quickie, p in v, orgasm denial, begging, slight cursing and fingering, slut-shaming, use of the word wh0re.
MDNI ⚠️
Your POV:
"Hey tom what do you think of this top?" I asked, opening the door to get his opinion. It was a little midriff which exposed part of my stomach, light blue coloring, and was accompanied with spaghetti straps. He looked up at me, swiping his tongue over his lip ring, which drove me a little insane.
"I think it looks gorgeous on you schatzi, everything always does" He smirked, nearing closer to me, shutting the dressing room door behind us. "Great! Do you think I should buy it?" I questioned, turning to face the mirror. "You don't have to buy anything liebe, I got you" He kissed the exposed part of my shoulder, goosebumps marking my skin.
His arms wrapped around the bare section of my stomach, lips finding a spot on my neck to leave marks. "Tom, not now, we're in the back of a store" I shook my head, shooing him away and grabbing another top to try on. "Aw c'mon" He pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.
"No" I responded, sliding the shirt over my head, revealing my lacy bra. "You're killing me over here love" He sat down on the small bench they placed in here, eyes devouring me right up. I smiled, putting the small top in my hands on. It was more detailed, but more revealing, lining right under my breasts.
"That looks good" He mumbled, still a hint of anger in his tone. "Don't be like that, this is supposed to be a nice shopping trip for us," I grabbed his chin, forcing his eyes to meet my own. He scoffed and pursed his lips. "I just don't want to have sex in a dressing room where literally anyone and everyone could hear us" I exclaimed, taking off the top once again.
He got up, cupping my mouth with his hand, both of us looking into the mirror. My eyes were a little bit wide, slightly shell-shocked. His hands made quick work at my skirt, tearing it down along with my underwear, and when he was finished, he unbuckled his belt, tugging down his baggy jeans.
The tent in his boxers was huge, and I gulped. His hand was still covering my mouth, small breaths leaving my lips. "Then be quiet for me, okay love?" He asked, eyes showing a bit of sympathy. I nodded, and his shirt was thrown across the floor, his boxers following suit soon after. He held onto my hips, guiding himself in, and I gasped, his hand coming up to cover my lips again.
"What did I say? Be quiet" He smacked my ass, not too rough, but hard enough to leave a small mark. I obliged silently, my eyes drifting up to the mirror once again. My face was contorted from the intense waves of pleasure tom was causing with each thrust, my body rocking at every one.
"So fucking good for me you little slut" He groaned lowly, and I whimpered into his hand. "You better stay quiet or you're not going to cum" He promised, looking at my reflection. My breasts were bouncing around, his large, veiny hand making sure not a single moan, whimper, or whine could be heard.
"Doing so well for me you whore" He growled, fingers teasing my slick, rubbing circles on the flesh. I winced, eyes shutting momentarily, as I grew closer to the edge. "Gonna cu-cum" my voice muffled through his hand, and he stopped thrusting. I whined, angered by this sudden move.
He sensed this, turning me to face him, throwing me up against the mirror, my back hitting the glass so hard it could've shattered, but I didn't care. I just needed him. He began to pound in and out of my hole, his head nearly thrown back at the heightening sensation of pure, unadulterated pleasure. I moaned, and he shot a glare at me.
"Fine." He huffed, still pressing me up against the smudged glass. "Guess you're not cumming then" I scoffed angrily as his hands were wrapped around my waist. "That's not fair" I protested, and he laughed. "Oh yeah?" He held back a chuckle. "How so?" I thought for a moment, and then answered smugly. "I'm bound to make some noise, you would too"
He flicked his lip ring, and then whispered in my ear "How would you know?" My face flushed to a light shade of pink as his hot breath lingered. "Exactly" He said, before thrusting once again. I gasped, my head falling backward as his lips sucked on one of my breasts, lapping at the areole.
"Ah- tom, too much!" I whimpered, the pleasure he was causing was going straight to my head, and caused me not to think straight. Tiny little noises kept leaving my throat as I was rocked up and down by tom. "You can take it you slut, you always do" He growled once again, bottoming out. My face twisted, eyebrows furrowing as he kept sliding nearly all the way back out, and then back in at such a rough pace I might not be able to walk out of this damn store.
"Good little whore, taking my fat cock so well" He grunted, fingers rubbing harshly. I cried out as I came, my juices coating tom's length as he finished inside me. "God you're so good for me" He captured my lips in a rough kiss, attacking the soft skin. I moaned into his mouth, and he smirked against me. He helped me down, putting my clothes back on my shaking frame and dressed himself as well, drying up the mess we had made.
"You don't have to buy me anything from here tom, I don't really like most of what I have in here anyways." I reassured him, but he shook his head. "No" He said, grabbing the small tops. "Think of it as a small thank you, and as a debt. You can repay me when we get home" He grinned wickedly, leading me out of the dressing room.
a/n: hopefully this was good, sorry if it's short 😥
#tom kaulitz x reader#tom kaulitz imagines#tom kaulitz#tokio hotel x you#tokio hotel x reader#tokio hotel#tom kaulitz smut#tom kaulitz x y/n#tom kaulitz x you#itsmealaiah
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Blackout
Summary: Lights out. Steam on. What if Steve Rogers is a filthy man in secret?
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Neighbor!Reader
Warnings: blackout, Steve acting like the golden boy, but he’s a filthy man in secret, dirty talk, smut, protected sex (tap it…),making out, dirty talk, a hint of fluff, language
A/N: As you voted for Steve in this poll here we go...
“No…no, don’t go in there” you huffed as the girl in the movie you were watching ran right into the murderer. “Great. Now you are—” you threw popcorn at your tv as it turned black. “FUCK! NO!”
You hit the buttons on your remote control. “What’s wrong with you?” you looked around your living room to find the lamps were out too. “Not another blackout.” You whined.
It wasn’t the first time the lights went out that month. “What’s the fucking problem? I only wanted to watch that movie.”
You grabbed your phone and activated the flashlight to walk toward the kitchen. You always store a flashlight and candles in one of the cupboards just to be safe.
“Y/N?” you frowned as someone harshly knocked at your door. Whoever it was, you wouldn’t let him inside your apartment during a blackout. “Doll, are you okay? It’s me, Steve from down the hall.”
“Captain?” you turned and walked toward your door. “Uh-is there a problem? Do you need help?”
“I kinda locked myself out,” he chuckled. “I wanted to do my laundry. I accidentally put my keys inside the washing machine. Now, it won’t open because of the blackout.”
“Oh, that’s…wait,” you unlocked the door. “Come in. I can’t let Captain America spend the night on the floor. I got wine, popcorn, and…well, we can’t finish the movie I was watching but we can play cards or something.”
“You’re very kind,” he softly said.
“Everyone else would’ve helped you too, Steve.”
He laughed at his stupidity. “That’s so me. Buck would laugh about me and tease me.”
Steve sheepishly looked around your apartment. Or at least he tried as there was barely any light.
“Don’t sweat it, Captain. It’s the least I can do,” you grinned and guided Steve into your living room, using your phone. “Do you want some wine, or water…or beer?”
“Nah, I’m good,” he straightened his shirt with his left hand. Steve cleared his throat to get your attention as you were busy watching his hand.
It looked like the shirt wanted to burst open. It was too small, just like most of his shirts and you swallowed thickly as you imagined ripping it off of his body.
“Doll, is something wrong?” damn him. He smiled that irresistible smile, making things worse for you. “Do you need something better than wine and popcorn?”
You whimpered as he stepped toward you to take the phone out of your hands. He shut it off, carelessly dropping it onto the couch. “I-uh…”
“It’s quite alright, doll,” he lowered himself to whisper in your ear. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his lips graze your cheek. “Just tell me what you want. I saw the way you always look at me.”
“You did?” you gasped.
Steve moved his hands to your face, cradling it gently before his lips pressed against yours. It was an innocent kiss at first. You know the kind of kiss making you weak in the knees.
Soon it turned into something different. His mouth latched on yours, tongue delving into your wet cavern to explore and conquer.
“Do you know what I want?” he cockily purred against your kiss-swollen lips. “Answer me doll.” His voice dropped dangerously low. “I expect you to answer me.”
You squeak when his hands grabbed you by your waistline to hoist you up and carry you toward your bedroom. He stopped beside the door, pressing you against the wall to devour your mouth once again.
His taste and scent were intoxicating. One moment he was the golden and charming Captain, and the next, he shoved his hand down your pants to toy with your clit.
“What do you want, Captain?” you panted against his lips. “Please tell me.”
“I want to fuck you so good your legs are shaking,” he dove back in, lips and teeth attacking your neck. “Do you want me to fuck you?”
What do you say when a godlike man asks for permission to fuck you?
“Hell, yes…Captain!” he grinned before carrying you inside your bedroom.
You ended up making out like horny teens, laughing as you were as desperate as Steve.
Usually, you are into foreplay and taking things slow but that night you pulled your panties to the side, giving Steve easy access to your dripping cunt.
He didn’t hesitate. Steve pulled his jeans down, rolled a condom over his length, and drove right into you, making a noise sounding like a wounded animal.
“Fuck, I wanted to do this for so long, Y/N,” his deep voice purred in your ear, as he slowly started to slide in and out of you. “You feel so fucking good.”
You giggled as he wouldn’t stop talking dirty. Who would’ve thought Steve Rogers is a dirty talker and a filthy man?
Steve licked into your mouth as one of his hands slipped between your bodies to rip your panties off of your body.
You wrapped your legs around his waist. “Fuck me, Steve. I want to thank you for your service.”
“Damn…fuck…this cunt,” he cursed as he started to move faster, bottoming out with every deep thrust. “I wanted you for so long.”
You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding Steve close to your body while he stuffed you over and over again with his thick cock.
“Steve…I’m gonna…” it was too late to stop the dam from breaking. You clenched tightly around his cock, dragging Steve with you over the edge.
Steve moaned your name and kissed you hard. He stayed inside as he looked you deep in the eyes before saying. “I want to do this again.”
“Same,” you laughed. “But…I need a break. And maybe, we can do it without our clothes on next time.”
“Oh, yeah,” he laughed too. “Sorry. I was…”
“Needy?”
“Needy…”
He gently pulled out to discard the condom. “I like your needy self, Captain,” you purred as he lay next to you, still panting. “…I mean…I like you.”
“I like you too, doll. A lot,” he dipped his head to look at you. “Next time, I’ll buy you dinner first…”
“Or we can order takeout and eat in bed…”
“I hope he got laid,” Tony grumbled. “It was a hard job faking a blackout. Why couldn’t he just ask her out? That’s just stupid.”
“Uh-Stevie is a little shy when it comes to a woman he likes,” Bucky shrugged. “I knew he needs a little push. And he got laid. I just know it…”
Tags in reblog.
#steve rogers#Blackout#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x y/n#smut#steve rogers smut#steve rogers x female reader#steve got laid
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Miguel M@sterbating(Solo)
CW: NSFW, M@sturbating, heavy description of male gënitals, “bitch” used to describe a woman
Poll results:
———
The lack of physical touch started to get to him. Miguel had been so sheltered from everyone, and it was getting on his nerves. Granted it was he who pushed everyone away, he gave them glares when they got too close, growling and flashing his fangs to scare them off. Yet here he sat in his office, wishing he had someone to hold, someone to fuck.
Miguel shook his head a little as the thought of self pleasure crossed his mind, shaking the thought away. How pathetic would that be? He’s so desperate to feel someone’s hands that he’d use his own? The thought alone was humiliating. He’s Miguel O’Hara, he could easily get some bitch to fuck. But he didn’t want just anyone… he wanted something special.
With a heavy sigh he finally gave into the temptation. He ordered Lyla to lock all the entrances before deactivating her with his gizmo. She may be AI but… do you really want some tiny hologram woman staring at you while you beat it? Yeah he didn’t even want to think of his AI assistant watching this. She’d probably never let him forget it.
Miguel fiddles with the gizmo a bit more, making his hologram suit dissolve. His large and stiff cock stands tall, the tip oozing precum. It twitched and throbbed as he looked at it pitifully. This was so embarrassing to him, he couldn’t explain it but the thought of touching himself in such a way felt… dirty… more dirty than fucking some random bitch. He truly couldn’t tell you his reasoning.
He took a long deep breath before bringing his hand to his cock, smearing the precum over his member as lube. He shuddered and closed his eyes as his finger tips slowly tracing every ridge and vein on his monster of a dick. It throbbed and pulsed under his fingers, he didn’t know he was this desperate until now.
Miguel carefully strokes his cock, letting out a low groan of pleasure as heat comes over him in waves. He covers his face with his free hand, steadily increasing the speed. His breath quickens as he wraps his hand around his girth. After waiting a beat he starts pumping his cock slow at first, picking up the pace as he feels an knot form in his groin.
A deep moan escapes his lips as he pumps his cock faster. “Mierda… mierda…” He mumbles pathetically as he jerks his cock. He adjusts his position, now wrapping both hands around his member as he thrusts his hips. His eyes are shut, and he imagines he’s fucking some bitch he thought was hot enough to deserve his time.
He groaned and moans more as he fucked into his hands like a desperate animal, mumbling swears in Spanish as he feels his climax approaching. His thrusts become erratic. He’s grunting and even let’s out a whimper pre two.
With one final pump into his fists he releases ropes of sticky white cum, covering his hands and the floor. He didn’t care about the mess right now, his mind foggy as he came down from the adrenaline. His breath was shaky as he panted, slowly stroking his length until he was soft again. He let out a small grunt at the slight overstimulation, but he pulled his hands away before it became too much.
He had to clean up before he activated Lyla, acting like nothing happened.
#i will say this… I am afab lol so if I get some detail wrong just… it’s fictional okay? lol#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara x reader#atsv#across the spiderverse
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Bathroom
Phil Wenneck x reader
synopsis - Reader has been avoiding Phil so he pulls her aside at a party to talk..
warnings - MDNI 18+ content, semi-public sex, Phil being kinda dominant, fingering, use of names (slut), edging (kinda) and unprotected sex.
authors note - *insert 'Bathroom' by Montell Fish* This was the winner from the poll, I really hope you guys like it. Thank you for being so patient, you have no idea how much it means to me! I'm going to attempt to get one fic out per week but no promises. So sorry for the wait but I hope you love it <3
please do not steal my work - belongs to @grey342
He's been eyeing you up all night.
You’re celebrating Stu's promotion. He’s been waiting five months for this and you’re so happy that he finally got it.
You and the guys decided to do a surprise party for him with his friends, co-workers and family. You’ve been trying to distract yourself all night and keep your distance from him but, the tension hanging in the air doesn’t go unnoticed.
A couple of months ago you and Phil made a mistake. An amazing one but still, a mistake.
The group went out for their weekly hangout this time, in a bar. You had just broke up with your fifth boyfriend of the year and to say you were feeling depressed was an understatement. Phil was recently divorced and couldn’t be fucking happier. And what better way to celebrate than getting shitfaced with his best friends.
You were wearing a short green dress that showed off your cleavage and it was taking everything in Phil to not tear it off you right there and then. He was wearing his classic black button-up shirt, not done up all the way, and a pair of slacks with a bulging print in them. You had to keep your legs tightly pressed together whenever you looked at him. At one point you swore you drooled a little.
Neither of you would ever admit the sexual tension that hid in the cracks of your friendship. But it was there and it had been since high school. Moving on, a few too many drinks were had and the next morning you woke up not in your bed and not alone. Flashbacks of the night before ran rampant through your mind, you didn't want to face it so you got up and left.
You didn't speak for a couple weeks after that incident. Eventually, it came up when you had a moment alone at Doug and Tracy's:
You wait until you're one hundred percent sure everyone else is out of earshot.
"We need to talk." You say direct.
"Yeah, we do," he inhales, "i'm gonna be straight with ya' that was the best sex i've ever had." You open your mouth and close it, like a goldfish. Out of the list of things you had expected him to say, that didn't even make top 50.
"I-uh, come again?"
"No I haven't since then unfortunately." He smirks.
"Phil," You sigh disappointedly.
"C'mon, you're telling me that wasn't the best sex of your life? Hm?" He stares into your eyes. You would never admit it to him, but it really was the best night of your life. You remember the way he used his hands and mouth. How he made you scream with only two fingers. You were awakened from your daydreaming by his chuckling.
"That's what I thought."
"Phil I have no idea-"
"Yeah sure you don't now listen, I had a good time, you had a good time. Both of us just got out of a relationship so we're not looking for anything too serious. So I propose a friends with benefits agreement."
"What?" You say, almost too loudly.
"Lower your voice, I mean I don't see the big deal. All it would be is meaningless sex, anytime we want. NO strings attached. And we could break it off at any point. What do you say?" He puts out his hand.
"Really? We're gonna shake on it?," his expression doesn't falter, "fine. But we have to agree to not catch feelings and if we do we must break off the agreement immediatley."
"Sweetheart, don't take this the wrong way but that's not gonna happen." He nodded towards his hand and you shook it, not realising what the hell you just got yourself into.
Back to the present moment, you were talking with some of Stu's work colleagues when you felt a presence behind you:
"Sorry guys do you mind if I steal her for one second?" A voice you would recognise in a crowd of screaming people says. All the men nodded as you felt a strong hand grip your arm and drag you away.
He pulled you into the bathroom, shoved you against the door and locked it. You try to avoid his gaze but he grabs your chin forcing you to look at him.
"Why are you avoiding me?" He grunts.
"Avoiding you? I'm not avoiding you."
"Don't lie to me." He hardens his grip, squishing your cheeks together. You thighs clamp together.
"I'm not lying to-" Your cut of by your own moan as his hands reach under your dress and rub over your clit through your panties.
"What was that? Hm?" He prompts but your mind is too fogged with the pleasure he's currently giving you.
He moves his other hand from your face down to your breasts and begins fondling them, playing with your nipples through the fabric. Your head is spinning.
"What, you like that?," he scoffs, "of course you do." Your eyes are screwed shut but you know he has a cocky grin on his face.
He stops his actions completley and before you can protest, he pulls down your panties and shoves his two fingers inside you, curling them also. You let out a loud moan, aware that anyone passing by would've heard it.
He must've seen the slight panic on your face because he says: "Don't be shy baby, let them hear how much of a slut you are for me." You moan in response.
You hear his belt being undone as well as his fly, you look down seeing his bulging dick through his pants. You move your hand, pull him out and begin to slowly pump your hand up and down. He moans loudly as you start to kiss his neck. He moves his fingers faster, bringing you to the brink of an orgasm. Your pace quickens as you look up at him he places his mouth on yours, sharing breaths.
"Shit, i'm close." You squeak out. Hearing this he stops his movements. You open your mouth to curse at him when he silences you by thrusting into you, you wrap your legs around his hips and claim his mouth.
The pair of you fight for dominance in a clash of teeth and tongues. He ultimately wins, thrusting up into you at a pace that has you moving up and down the wall. You break away to catch your breath, he bites your bottom lip and pull on it lightly. You let out a whimper and claw at his back.
"You like that? You dirty little slut, this is what you get for avoiding me.." He speaks deeply. You can feel yourself getting close.
"Phil.." You warn, tears forming in your eyes.
"Scream my name baby, let everybody know who's fucking you this good." His hand moves down to rub harsh circles on your clit.
"Oh shit.."
"That's it let it all out, cum for me baby.." He groans, he leans down, kissing and sucking your neck. You moan in unison, he finds your sweet spot and bites down.
"Fuck!" You scream out the pleasure exploding over you, your legs begin to shake.
"Oh shit, oh shit!" Phil whimpers, shooting his load inside of you. Once you calm down and your legs stop shaking, he places you on the ground. You look at yourself in the mirror and fix your appearance as an attempt to look presentable. After he pulls his pants up, he grabs your panties and puts them on for you. Raising to your level he says:
"Now your gonna go back to that party with my cum still inside you," he kisses you, "meet me outside at 9. We're not done yet." He gives you one last kiss, a slap on the ass and opens the door for you.
You walk out the door with a huge grin on your face and Phil's cum trickling down down your legs.
#bradley cooper#bradley cooper x reader#phil wenneck#phil wenneck x reader#the hangover#x reader#smut#tumblr polls#friends with secrets
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Unexpected (Vox x Fox Demon!Reader)
Pairing: Vox x Reader
Description: Vox tries to make a deal with Y/n.
Warnings: Valentino is his own warning. Um, slightly explicit near the beginning? Nothing too bad. Cigarettes.
Word Count: 2,928
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A/N Considering the returns on my most recent poll, I figured I should get this slightly steamy little idea I've had for a while out there in the world.
Vox had never been one to make deals with lesser demons, to take their souls. No, that was Valentino's thing. Vox didn't need to own a soul to get a demon to do what he wanted for one, and for another, Vox didn't particularly like people. He preferred to work alone, to be alone. Life was much more productive that way.
The other Vees were different. Vox allowed them in his life because they were useful, they solidified and expanded his power. Anyone else was just a waste of time and space.
Speaking of the other Vees, Vox right now was on his way to visit Valentino. At Velvette's request, he was aiming to talk to the man about whatever scene he'd instigated at a club the night before. It just happened to be his luck because of course it was his fucking luck that the only spare moment he had to deal with the situation was when Val was filming.
Vox burst through the studio doors, making a beeline for Valentino who sat in a director's chair before the set. He was well practiced at approaching his business partner while the man was working and averted his eyes, trying his best to keep focus on the task at hand.
"Val." he hummed in irritation as he came to a stop beside the moth demon's chair, "What did you do last night?"
Valentino blew out a puff of pink smoke, fixing his eyes on Vox.
"Whatever do you mean?"
The feigned innocence coming from this man was laughable. Vox rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, to reveal what Velvette had told him. By chance, just at that moment, he happened to look away.
It wasn't on purpose. There had been a sound from the set that had involuntarily grabbed Vox's attention. His eyes widened, his screen glitching with fury as he turned back to Valentino.
"What the fuck is that?" he asked pointing to the set.
There, in the middle of the bed was a demon. That was far from unusual, as was the demon's half dressed state. What was unusual was the fact that the demon had been dressed up to look exactly like Vox himself. Well, not exactly. The actor had a box over his head with a fake screen on the front. A cheap costume but one that was most certainly supposed to be him.
There was another demon beneath him, a short thing with with wide eyes and the large ears of a fennec fox. It was then that the sound that caught his attention registered with Vox. Trapped under the other actor's arms, his lips to her neck, she had moaned his name.
"Hmm?"
Val lazily threw his gaze to the stage before smiling.
"Just my newest project. Don't you worry."
"Val, I am definitely worried. I want you to cancel this, right now."
"Oh comon Voxy!" Valentino pleaded, "Think of all the money it would bring in! Half of Hell wants to get dicked down by you for Christ's sake."
Vox folded his arms over his chest, actively not looking at the pair who were still on stage. They had not stopped what they were doing for the sake of the overlord's conversation and Vox was so high strung that he nearly flinched at the sound of fabric tearing.
"Val."
His voice came out deep and mangled, as if his speakers were turned up way too loud. Vox's eye twitched slightly in irritation, his hands clenched into fists. Valentino just watched him for a moment before sighing. Waving his hand, he turned to the stage.
"That's a wrap everyone!" he called and Vox turned to watch at the whole crew of demons, including the pair of actors, turned to their boss, "We're trashing this script."
If anyone had complaints, they dared not voice them before the two overlords. Slowly, the crew began to pack up.
"Thank you." Vox reluctantly said to Val.
His eyes were fixed on the two actors, something that did not escape Valentino's notice as he waved the words of thanks off.
"You owe me one."
"Whatever."
The man had pulled himself from the bed by now and discarded the false head he'd been wearing. With a kindly smile, he held a hand out to the girl he'd been on top of just moments before. She sat up, leaning back on her arms. Vox watched her lips move and though he couldn't hear what she said over the clamor, he assumed it must've been a joke as the other demon laughed.
Gently, and with much more grace than Vox could have thought she was capable of, she took the demons hand and brought herself off the bed. Vox's breath caught in his throat because of course, of fucking course, Valentino had decided to dress her like that.
If Val was good at anything, it was guessing someone's kinks just by looking at them. A party trick but in practice, very useful for his line of work. The demon was dressed in blue and red lingerie, running like twisting wires over her limbs, pressing gently into her skin in just the right way. The remnants of a black dress, the source of the earlier sound of torn fabric no doubt, lay in the imprint of her body on the bed. Vox didn't care if it was predictable, she looked fucking hot.
With that specific breed of confidence that seems only to belong to pornstars, the pair began heading toward the door. Muffled, as if through water, Vox heard Valentino ask him something.
"Yeah." Vox absently replied, tearing his eyes away from the pair and meeting Valentino's gaze.
Val smirked up at him knowingly.
"You alright there Voxy?" he hummed, "Fox got your tongue?"
"I am not going to deign that with a response. If you ever pull shit like this agai-"
"Yeah yeah. Doll!"
Vox followed Val's shifted line of sight to see that the girl had stopped by the door which was being held open for her by her scene partner. She turned to face Val, suddenly taking on a much more demure demeanor than she had previously displayed. Hands clasped before her, she met her boss's eyes across the expanse of the room.
"Yes?" she called, her voice like music.
"Val." he warned under his breath for what felt like the umpteenth time.
Valentino, of course, ignored him, seeking his own entertainment and profit above all else.
"Come here for a second, would you?"
She nodded, saying something to the demon behind her over her shoulder. With a shrug, he left the room, letting the door fall shut behind him. Stepping carefully between the frantic workers, the girl made her way across the room to Vox and Val. She stopped before Val's chair, looking up at him through her lashes.
"What did you want to see me for, sir."
Her words were careful, perfectly annunciated.
"Back here in ten. You've got another job."
"Yes, Valentino." she replied, bowing her head just the slightest bit towards the man.
Val's wicked grin widened.
"Wear the white."
"Yes, Valentino."
It was like those were the only two words she knew. She treated the horrific man before her with the utmost respect, never once taking her eyes off of him.
"You may go."
Val waved her off with a lazy flick of his hand.
"Thank you, sir."
Another slight bow and the girl turned, her hair splaying out slightly at the ends from her sudden movement. As she made for the door once again, she shot a momentary glance at Vox. It was as if the world had stopped turning the second their eyes met. It felt like an eternity of him losing himself in their sticky softness. Then, she was gone.
Vox didn't understand what was happening. Sure, he had found people attractive before. He'd engaged in hookups, wasted time on the occasional relationship but nothing -- nothing -- had ever been like this. Every time he shut his eyes, there she was. Every spare second, his mind drifted to her. He found himself staring off into space, the image of that wry smile she had shot her costar as he had helped her off the bed burned into his memory.
The worst part was she was one of Val's girls and Val's girls were always trouble. The look they had shared, the scene she had been in, the way his name had sounded spilling from her soft lips, Vox knew it meant nothing to her. She had probably already forgotten it by now. The worst part was, it wasn't nothing to him. His muscles tensed at just the thought of the sound, at the idea of him being the one to actually make her beg for him rather than some cheap excuse for a facsimile. The worst part was, he didn't even know her name. In Val's gaze, she was just another body to profit off of. She was a doll, unworthy of any other title. The idea of someone seeing her so cheaply made him glitch because god, he had only met her once, but she was so much more than a toy. Vox was sure of it.
Wrapped in fantasy, he crafted an image of the girl. Vox imagined her patterns of being, what she must be like as a person -- so obedient but with that dry sense of humor he had attributed to her with no evidence save that she'd managed to make one person laugh in front of him one time. Vox never expected to see her again. He thought that the demon would be forever relegated to his dreams, to the recesses of his mind. He thought she'd be dead in a week, with Val's track record.
Vox pulled himself from his desk chair with a sigh. Three hours had passed and he just couldn't bring himself to be productive. She was a menace, a true vixen with those fox ears and tail to match. He would curse her very name for what she was doing to him if he knew what it was.
"Some fresh air. That's all I need." he said to the emptiness of his office, "Yeah."
The back doors of the Vee's building were seldom used, even by the people who worked there. Half the paparazzi didn't even know that they existed and so, he planned his escape. Of course it had to be his luck because it was always his goddamn luck these days wasn't it that the second he opened the door, it was to the smell of cigarette smoke and the image of a demon leaning against the building's brick exterior.
Vox let the door fall shut behind him with a heavy bang. The demon shot him a glance out of the corner of her eye, taking a long drag of her cigarette.
"Escaping?" she asked.
He hadn't wanted anyone to see him. More importantly, he hand't wanted to see anyone, let alone talk to him. Vox sighed, adjusting his sleeves as he turned to face the demon fully.
She looked up at him, squinting slightly against the sun. Vox's heart stuttered in his chest. She looked... different and it wasn't just because she was fully dressed this time. There was no doubt about it however, this was the demon from the studio just a few weeks before.
None of the playful joy or diligent respect from their last encounter remained in her features, she just looked tired. Black jeans and a leather jacket, hair pulled up and away from her face, not a speck of makeup to be seen besides the smudged remnants of mascara beneath her eyes.
"You... you're that... you're one of Val's..."
"Victims?" she chuckled ruefully, "Yeah. I am."
"You're the one from..."
"Last week? Yep. Sorry about that, by the way. If it's any consolation, it was uncomfortable for us too."
Vox was speechless, stunned, utterly taken aback and completely blindsided. The exact thing he was trying to escape, standing before him and utterly contrary to his every previously conjured image.
"Want a smoke?"
"Uh, no thanks. Don't smoke."
The girl shrugged.
"Mind if I do."
"No."
She took another long drag, watching the smoke she blew out as it hung blue in the air. She shot him a sidelong glance.
"You just gonna stand there?"
"You ask a lot of questions."
She laughed. Vox wasn't expecting her to do that.
"S'pose I do."
The idea of a walk had long left Vox's mind. He leaned against the wall across from her in the cramped ally, watching as she anxiously checked the time.
"Goddamn."
She lowered her arm, shaking the sleeve of her jacket back over the watch and looking wistfully out towards the exit of the ally.
"Val?"
"Val."
"You seem... you're different than I expected you to be."
"Thats your fault for having expectations."
She smiled at him like a shark watching prey and he nodded his head to the side in mild agreement.
"What's your name?"
Her smile fell, eyes widening slightly. One of her ears twitched and Vox could hear the sound of her tail shifting against the wall. The world felt so far away. Right now, there was nothing else in existence except for himself, the ally, and the fox before him.
"Vix..." she bowed theatrically after a moment, "is my porn name."
Her eyes shot up to his as she finished her phrase, the same confident and, he now realized, performative smile curling the edges of her lips.
"But my parents called me Y/n."
The demon straightened herself up, holding a hand out to Vox. He regarded it carefully for a moment before placing his hand in hers.
"Vox."
"I know."
Y/n took a final drag from her cigarette, stamping the butt out on the ground beneath the heavy heel of her boot.
"Well," she sighed with one last look to the shock of sky they could see between the buildings, "I best be going. Nice meeting you."
"Wait!"
Vox hadn't meant to say it, nor had he meant to frantically latch onto her arm. Y/n flinched slightly under the contact, stilling before the door and turning back to him, her brow furrowed.
"Why do you..." he cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing slightly pink, "How'd you end up... working... here."
Y/n laughed again. She had to admit, his flustered state was rather endearing, not at all what she had expected from one of the most feared overlords in all of Hell.
"For Val?" she asked and he nodded in response, "Same as every other wayward soul. He offered me something I couldn't refuse, and I was too naive to understand the price."
It took Vox a moment for her words to register with him, for her cryptic language to translate in his mind.
"He owns your soul?"
Y/n nodded once, all traces of amusement having fallen from her face.
"For what."
"Fame! Money! Riches!" she sarcastically called out with wild swings of her arms.
She stilled in her movements, a wry smile flashing across her face as she met his eyes again, her arms falling to her sides.
"Really?"
"Nah, I'm not that classy. I needed protection."
"From what?"
"Anything. I was new and I was afraid."
"And now you're trapped."
"Now I am trapped." Y/n concurred solemnly, "And I have to go."
"Do you want to go?"
Y/n thought for a moment before shaking her head.
"You're not what I expected you to be."
"Thanks?" Vox questioned after a moment, "I am not sure if you meant that as a compliment."
"Yeah."
It was a noncommittal answer and one that sent sparks of anxiety like shards of broken glass through him.
"I meant more so do you want to go to Val."
"Do I want to go get fucked by twenty guys or whatever he's gonna have me do? Of course fucking not. I don't really have a say in the matter so its not really important what I want."
"Of course it's important what you want."
Vox's mouth was moving a hundred times faster than his head. He couldn't seem to make it stop. Y/n's eyes went wide, she shook her head slightly as if ridding it of a thought.
"Maybe in another afterlife." she joked.
"What if... what if I could... fix this for you."
A pause, tense and full of longing. An intake of breath.
"What do you mean?"
"If you make a contract with another demon, Val's would be void."
"Another demon like you."
"Yes."
"I..."
She trailed off, looking up at him with wide eyes. Her tail wagged once happily behind her before all traces of hope were swallowed once again by the utter desolation.
"I dug my grave, Vox."
"But you don't have to lie in it."
He was practically begging her, his hand on her arm again. He couldn't recall when he had placed it there after her wild movements earlier in detailing her deal had thrown it from her. She looked down, examining the place where flesh made contact with leather. Y/n's eyes met his again, she shook him off.
"One deal is bad enough. Trading chains for chains doesn't change anything."
"But it could."
"Look, Vox. I have to go."
Y/n turned her back on him and opened the door. She hesitated for a moment, leaning on it's edge.
"It was nice to meet you."
Vox watched as she disappeared, the door slamming behind her.
----
A/N It doesn't matter if you guys want a part two or not because there will be one.
#x reader#hazbin hotel#x reader fics#fic writer#hazbin hotel x reader#vox x reader#vox hazbin#vox hazbin hotel#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel vox#vox x you#vox x y/n#vox hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel vox x reader#hazbin hotel x y/n#hazbin hotel x you#x reader oneshot#x reader one shot#one shot#oneshot#vox one shot
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Pairing : Lee Minho x F!Reader x Bangchan
TW : lots of arguing ; just a lot of angst ; also the baby is born but there's no time for going into detail ; it's all angst ; it’s another cliffhanger :’) ;
Word Count : 5.4k
Request : A lot, it's been requested a lot!
AN : It won the poll, it's time for part two. IS THIS THE ANGST THAT YOU WANTED!?!?!? IS THIS WHAT YOU ALL WERE WAITING FOR?!?! I LOVE ALL OF YOU SM!
Things were silent… Maybe too silent, eerily even, but you attributed it to the fact that the guys had a comeback coming up and they were just too busy pretending that everything was okay so that the press and the fans wouldn’t come up with their own speculations and rumors. No one thought anything of the fact that the choreographer planned every single dance to keep Minho as far away from Chan as possible. No one even realized it. The tension that was felt between the two, the looks that they’d give each other, either no one picked up on it, or they just thought it was part of the bad boy concept that they had right now. You knew… The other guys knew, everyone that was close to them knew what was really going on… But no one knew just how bad it could get.
“I’ve gone to my lawyer.” Minho snarkily remarked as he walked past Chan. The comeback was done, they had done great, they had amassed multiple rewards, and reality was finally setting back in for the two of them. “I just thought that I’d let you know so that you can’t flake out on the hearing under the pretense that you didn’t know anything about it. I’m telling you right now, it’s going to court.”
It was becoming enough for Chan, it had become enough the day that Minho had come to your house and upset you, but now it was going too far. “Why can’t you leave well enough alone? What are you trying to gain from this? She’ll never take you back, you need to accept that and move on with your life.” Always the peacekeeper unless he had no other choice, Chan tried to keep his emotions in check and under control. You were getting further along in your pregnancy and the last thing that you needed was another situation like before to stress you out.
“I’m not the kind of man that’ll sit by and watch another man raise my child, especially my daughter. I have values.” He stated as if it were a well known fact, but Chan could only laugh, the loud snort sounding out in the studio at the proclamation. “I hope you don’t get too attached…” Minho continued, completely ignoring Chans cackling. “If you and Y/N won’t let me see her, and if Y/N won’t take me back… I’ll just fight for full custody.”
That statement had Chan choking on his own breath as he inhaled sharply, his eyes widening to look up at Minho. “You’re joking? Tell me you’re joking. That’s fucking evil, even for you. You’d really be petty enough to take away Y/N’s child just because she won’t get back with you?” But the only response Minho gave was a coy smile as he slowly backed out of the room. “I won’t let that happen…”
“You’ve got a couple more months to think about it… To let her know. What’s more important to her?” It would be a double edged sword, no doubt about it. It was the most vicious ultimatum, and Chan didn’t think that anyone would be low enough to do something like that, to threaten someone with something like that, but clearly Minho was lower than the average person when he strived to get what he wanted.
“Fuck…” Chan mumbled, leaning back in his chair, his hands over his face as he tried to think about what to do. This wasn’t something that he could just bring up to you in casual conversation. You were in a fragile state, the smallest thing could work you up, and this was not a small thing. This was too much for even Chan to handle, he didn’t know what to do, but he knew that he needed to let you know. He wasn’t going to lose his daughter, and he surely wasn’t going to lose you.
“You’re home early. I thought you were at the studio?” You spoke from the kitchen, clicking off the burner, and before Chan had even finished taking off his shoes, you were waddling over to him. “What’s wrong?” You deadpanned, and Chan thought that he was hiding his emotions well, but you could read him like a book, it was something that he loved about you, but right now, he wished that he could have just let you eat your dinner in peace before dropping the bomb.
“Nothing, darling. Just stressed about a new song.” He lied, fingers crossed in the sleeve of his jacket as he took it off, hoping that you’d believe him. “Come, eat your dinner, I’ll tell you all about it.” He smiled at you, but he could see the suspicion in your eyes, but you let him lead you to the kitchen, pulling out your chair for you and waiting for you to sit down before plating up the food you had been cooking. “My girls are hungry, yeah?”
“Christopher…” You said his name sternly, yet still graciously accepted the plate he put in front of you, giving him a smile of appreciation before letting it drop and watching him take the seat across from you. “I’ve seen you stressed from working on new songs… That isn’t what this is. Be honest with me, please? Is it something I need to know? Is it about… him?” Him… He who shall not be named… Minhos name hadn’t been spoken in your house since that day he came over. You looked at it as a bad omen, like if you said it, he’d show up.
“Please eat first…” Chan responded softly, using his own fork to pick up the food on your plate and bring it to your lips, and even while stressed, he gave himself a small second to adore the way your eyes rolled yet your mouth still opened for the food. “I’ll tell you all about it, but I want to hear about your day first. How are you feeling? How’s our girl?”
You sighed, leaning back in your chair and running your hands over your stomach. “I got another stretch mark today…” You mused, although your nose scrunched up while saying it. You hated the stretch marks, but Chan thought they were beautiful, just another sign to show how amazing you were. “She’s been kicking around a lot… I think she’s trying to break out.”
He chuckled lightly, thankful for the small talk, thankful for these little images that your words filled his mind with momentarily to take his mind off of what was bothering him. “Ah, it’s getting a little too cramped in there for baby girl, isn’t it?” He joked, and your eyes lifted up with your smile as you nodded in agreement. “Just two more months and she’ll be home, free to kick about as much as she likes.”
“Two months…” You said, almost dreamily, your head tilting to the side, and he could tell that you were picturing it, the way your eyes sparkled and your hands absentmindedly continued to rub over your stomach. “I know she can’t wait to meet you… Every time she hears your voice she starts moving more. I think she’s just as excited as you are.”
Hearing you say that should have had him even more excited, but now his heart sank as what Minho said earlier replayed in his mind. How was he even supposed to begin telling you? How could he look you in the eye and completely shatter those dreams that fluttered like butterflies in your beautiful mind? “About… that…” Chan said softly, nervously, his head dropping. He didn’t want to see you cry, he couldn’t. “Mi…- He… Came to see me at the studio today…” He felt the floor begin to vibrate as your knee bounced, anxiously waiting for him to finish saying it. “He’s taking it to court… He said that… If you won’t get back with him… Or if you won’t let him see her… He’ll fight for full custody.”
You were completely frozen and Chan worried, he worried about what you might think, what you might do. Would you try to run? Try to hide? He couldn’t let you do that. “I guess… We’ll just have to… Get our own lawyer then?” You whispered, your voice cracking with each word, your eyes turning up to the ceiling as your teeth came down on your bottom lip. You were trying not to cry, and Chan realized at that moment that he might have disliked the sight of you actually crying, but he really hated the sight of you trying to hold it back.
“Darling… I promise… I swear… He won’t win. Our daughter is going to be here with us, and I’ll be here too.” He reached across the table to grab your hands that sat loosely on his own. You were too far in your own thoughts now, so far that he couldn’t pull you back out, not yet. “How about we finish our dinner, and then we can watch the new episode of that show you love… Hm? How’s that sound?”
Your shoulders shrugged, your eyes downcast now as you twirled your thumbs. “I’m not very hungry anymore…” You mumbled, pushing yourself away from the table and getting up. “I think I just… I just want to go to sleep. I’m tired…” You pressed a kiss to the top of Chans head, and he could just feel it, radiating off of you, the way you slouched over and walked so slowly, yet so heavily towards the bedroom. You were devastated, you were scared, and that made him want to fight harder to keep his family together.
///
“Christina Chana Bang, Stray Kids leader, Bangchans daughter's birth was announced today by JYPE…” The headline was longer than that, but Minho had stopped after finding out what he needed to know. His daughter was finally here, and he wasn’t a villain, he’d give you time to heal, he’d give the baby time to get back home… He’d give you a little extra time to think… But if things didn’t work out the way he wanted them to… He’d soon be meeting his daughter, and he’d be changing her name as well.
It felt like more of a slap in his face that his daughter seemed to be almost directly named after Bangchan… You all did this on purpose, to spite him, to piss him off more. Well, you got the reaction that you wanted. “Maybe you should try to just calm down a bit?” Jeongin recommended, awkwardly fiddling with the remote after pausing the news while the headline was still written in bold black letters at the bottom of the screen.
“Calm down a bit? Sure, I mean, that’s easy for you to say… It’s not your kid carrying some other guy's last name… And first name… No… You just don’t understand.” Minho said sarcastically, drumming his hands on his lap as his nostrils flared and his teeth gritted together. “I’ll just go up there and talk to him myself… I don’t fucking care.”
As soon as Minho was off the couch, Jeongin had moved to stand in front of the door, making sure he didn’t leave. “I… I don’t think that’s a good idea. There’s a bunch of cameras and reporters and… And if you make a scene, it’ll look really bad.” Jeongins eyes flashed around the room, but none of the other guys were home, they had all gone up to the hospital to congratulate you and Chan. Why was Jeongin left in charge of Minho? He wasn’t quite sure, but now he was really cursing himself for agreeing to it.
“Like I said… I don’t care.” Minho snapped, trying to move Jeongin out of the way, but the maknae was holding his ground, his arms stretched out to completely block off the door. “Who’s side are you on? If this were happening to you, I would let you go. That’s my kid, Jeongin… I need to go see her.”
“B-But Chan hyung is up there too…” Jeongin nervously retorted, trying to avoid Minhos dagger like eyes as they stared at him. “Don’t you think… Maybe you should just… Let Y/N and the baby rest. If you need to talk to him, you should just… Maybe just call him? I’m sure they’ll let you see the baby soon and… Well, there’ll be a lot of pictures taken of her too.” His attempt at keeping the peace was both a long shot, and it didn’t work at all.
“I should have been the one up in that hospital anyway.” Minho hissed, his anger only growing with the younger boy's defiance and everyone seeming to be okay with just accepting his baby as Chans. “Look… I love you… You’re my brother… But if you don’t move out of the way, I’m gonna have to move you myself.”
Was it a threat? Jeongin wasn’t sure, but he remembered the way Minho had hit Chan when he was angry enough, and he didn’t really want to go through that, so he hesitantly stepped away from the door, his head dropping shamefully. “Please don’t do anything stupid… It won’t help you… It won’t help anyone.”
Minho scoffed, pulling the door open with such force that it slammed against the wall. “Don’t try to preach to me, I know what I have to do, and I don’t need anyone else’s help to do it.” And with that final statement, the door was being whipped shut, sending a vibration through the walls that Jeongin could feel in his back as he leaned against it.
“Oh no, oh no…” Jeongin muttered to himself as he backed away from the door, pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing Chans number only for it to go to voicemail. “Dammit…” He huffed, his mind feeling far too jumbled right now, unable to even completely focus on what he had to do. He knew that if Minho got up there, if Minho got through those doors, it would be a shit show for everyone. “Hyung…” Jeongin sighed when Chan finally answered his phone on the fifth round of calling. “He… He might already be there… But he’s coming… He’s coming.”
It wasn’t rocket science, Chan knew exactly who Jeongin was talking about. “Hm… Thank you…” Chan muttered, and he could hear you in the background, although distant, he could hear the worry in your tone as you questioned who Chan was talking to. “Don’t worry about it, darling. It was just one of the staff calling to congratulate us.” Chans lying came so easily now, and he didn’t feel good about doing it, but if it meant protecting you and his daughter, he’d continue.
“I’ll text the guys to let them know… So you can stay in the room with Y/N… And I’ll head up there too. I’m sorry I let you down…” Of course, Jeongin was filled with guilt for letting Minho walk out that door, but he was scared, he was so scared… But now that he thought about what could happen if Minho got up to the hospital and made it to your room… That fear was tripled.
Chan sighed softly, and Jeongin could imagine him shaking his head. “You didn’t let me down… I wouldn’t want you on the receiving end of Minhos anger anyway. Just let the guys know what’s going on…” His tone was so hushed, and Jeongin could hear the sound of a bathroom fan, and he knew that Chan had gotten as far away from you as possible so he could speak without you worrying. “Just be careful on your way up here, okay? You still have to meet your niece.”
///
“I’m gonna head down to the cafeteria with the guys to get something to eat… Do you want anything? Do you want one of them to stay here with you?” Chan asked as he stepped out of the bathroom, and you could feel some kind of tension coming from him, but you assumed it was just because he had witnessed you giving birth and… Well, he did almost faint, so he was probably still just coming to terms with what had just happened and what the next couple years would look like.
You shook your head, letting out a yawn as you nestled into the bed. “The nurses have Chana, I think I should… really take advantage of that and get some sleep.” You murmured, your eyes barely even opened as you talked to him. “I love you… You should try to get some sleep when you come back up too… We’ve got a long couple months of nights ahead of us.” You joked, and Chan wanted to laugh, he really did, but those nights were seeming to be more of a distant dream now that he knew Minho truly wasn’t giving up.
“Yeah… I will… I’ll get some sleep. I’ll let the nurses know that you’re resting if I see them on my way down.” It was hard to hold himself together. Had Minho already shown up? Was he there? “I love you, dream sweetly, darling.” He quickly walked over to the bed, leaning over to kiss your forehead before rushing back to the door. “I’ll be back up soon.”
Walking out of your room was hard. Minho was… He was like a villain in a horror movie. No one knew where he was at right now, he could be on his way up to the room while Chan and the rest of the guys make their way down. He didn’t want Minho alone with you, not that he worried you’d get hurt, he just didn’t want Minho to sway your mind. “Seungmin is in the front lobby of the building, he already let security know what’s going on…” Felix said, patting Chans shoulder to not only reassure him, but to show him that they were all going to stand beside him through this.
“I’m just tired… Tired of everything.” Chan muttered, exasperation clear in his voice as he ran his hands over his face. “Today should be the… The happiest day of my life. My fiancee just gave birth and… My daughter is here… And instead of being in that room with her, I’m on my way down to hopefully keep her ex from getting in. It’s just… It’s exhausting.” His heart was on his sleeve, every single emotion that had been pent up over the last couple months was finally being poured out. “He’s threatening to take us to court… He’s gonna try to take her away from us.”
Not only did Felixs mouth fall open, but the other guys who were listening shared the same reaction of shock. “You didn’t tell us that… Why didn’t you let us know?” Felix inquired, truly upset that Chan hadn’t filled him in on just how bad things were getting. “We… We’ll do whatever we can to help… We’ll be beside you… You and Y/N…”
It was a sweet sentiment and of course Chan appreciated it, but he didn’t want all of the guys to turn against each other, he didn’t want this to hurt their friendship. That’s why he had kept it hidden for so long. “No… It’s fine. If he feels attacked or threatened he’ll only be worse. He needs to know… Or at least assume that he has someone in his corner, as awful as that sounds.” Chan relented, taking a deep breath and then clearing his throat as his lips pursed into a tight line. “I can’t let this affect the group, STAY would be devastated to know what was going on…”
And no one could disagree with that, so they had to back down. No one outside the group could truly know what was going on because it would ruin everything that they had worked so hard to achieve. “Has Seungmin texted you or tried to call you or anything?” Jisung asked, nervously chewing on his bottom lip as he leaned against the wall in the hallway.
Chan wasn’t sure, he hadn’t felt his phone vibrate, but then he remembered that he had turned his phone off while in the room so that the baby could sleep and you could rest. “Shit…” He mumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket and seeing the multitudes of texts and missed calls from Seungmin. “For fucks sake…” He muttered, reading through the texts that were urgently written and misspelled, letting Chan know that Minho had shown up, and he was still sitting in the waiting room, and he was pissed.
“Do you want us to go down with you?” Hyunjin whispered, sheepishly twiddling his thumbs as if he were hoping for Chan to say no, and while he hadn’t actually said it, his head shook in response. “We’ll stay up here and guard the door then… Make sure he doesn’t get in.”
///
“This is fucking ridiculous and you know it, Seungmin!” Minho shouted from his seat in the waiting room, the only thing keeping him from storming up to your room was the security guards that stood in front of him. “That’s my baby! I have the right to see her as her father! Why are you doing this? Why are you protecting him?!” Minho continued, looking between the guards to glare at Seungmin who stood a little further away, his eyes intermittently glancing behind him, waiting for Chan.
“I’m just doing what’s right by Y/N and Chana…” Seungmin mumbled, and Minho rolled his eyes at the name that his daughter had gotten, a name that he couldn’t wait to change. “You forfeited your title as her father when you cheated on Y/N… I don’t think it’s fair that you’re coming in here trying to ruin the moment that Chan hyung and Y/N have been so excited to have.”
“Thank you, Seungmin…” Chans voice came from behind the younger boy who had never been so relieved to see his hyung. “You can go back up with the other guys now… I’m sorry about all of this.” Seungmin grumbled incoherently under his breath, clearly annoyed with everything that was going on as he walked away, leaving Chan and Minho to once again face off. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here right now.”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve being the one to take my spot beside her as she delivered my child.” Minho threw it back to Chan, and they both were already on edge, prepared for anything that might happen. “I don’t know how long you think I’ll let this continue… But I’m going to get her back, and I’ll have both of them. I’ve let you have your fun, I let you hang around while she was pregnant, but I think it’s fine time for you to go back to your place and let her real father take over.”
There was nothing more infuriating than Minho constantly throwing in his face that he wasn’t Chanas real father, and he knew that the only reason Minho did it was because it was the only thing that could truly get under Chans skin. “I am her father. She’s got my last name, I cut her cord… I was the first person to hold her. She’s my child, whether you try to take her away or not. You’re not the only person who’s gotten a lawyer. I’m ready for whatever it is that you try to throw at us.”
Minhos jaw set, his teeth grinding together as his knee started to bounce. Minhos attempt at irritation was intentional, but Chans words had really set Minho off, whether it was on purpose or not. “She’s mine! They’re both mine, all mine. You’re stuck in some silly little fantasy world. Do you really think that Y/N will choose staying with you over having her daughter? Our daughter? I’ll get her back, and I’ll have both of them, and you’ll have nothing. You could have made this easier on yourself, you should have… But you chose the hard way… And that’s on you.”
Chan was a leader, he’d do anything to protect the guys, and with that leader instinct, it made it easier for him to fall into the role of being a father, and a fiance. Along with those roles came the natural need to want to protect you and his daughter from any of the pain or heartache that Minho might cause, and he sure as hell wasn’t just going to let you or Chana be taken away from him, not without a fight. “The only one stuck in a fantasy is you, thinking that you’ll ever get them both back in your life. You’re an awful person, you were an awful boyfriend and you’d be an even worse father. You don’t deserve to have Y/N, and you surely don’t deserve to raise Chana.”
“That’s not her name…” Minho practically growled, his fingers tightening around the arm rest of the chair. “You chose that name to piss me off. Everything you’ve done has been an attempt to make me angry. You want me to go off so that Y/N will think I’m an awful person and she won’t come back to me.” He leaned forward in his chair, the security between him and Chan tensing up at his movement. “I’m not… You’re the bad one… I’ll make her see that.”
The huff of air that Chan let out through his nose was loud, the little smirk that tugged up at the corner of his lips was blood boiling, but Minho knew better than to be set off by it. “I don’t have to make her think anything. Y/N can come to that conclusion on her own, and she has.” Chans tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth before he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Look, I’d love to sit down here and go back and forth with you for the rest of the evening, but my daughter and my fiancée are upstairs waiting for me. If you want to take this to court, fine… But you’re not going to win. I won’t let you. You’re not taking my family away from me.”
Minho pushed himself up from the chair, stepping closer until he was up against the security guards, as close to Chan as he could be. “If that’s what you want to do then do it. You’ll ruin the group, everything that the guys have worked for, everything that you’ve worked for… It’ll be ruined. You won’t just give up when you can, you won’t give me back what’s mine. It’ll all be on you.”
It was a threat, but it wasn’t nearly as scary as the possibility of never being with you again, of never holding Chana again. “The guys know where my priorities lie, and if you’re willing to destroy the group because of your selfishness and your inability to realize that you’ve screwed up for good, then that is entirely on you. You can take your guilt tripping elsewhere because quite frankly, we don’t need it, nor do we want it. Go home.”
“You won’t win…” Minho muttered as he stepped back, his hands shoved angrily in his pockets. “I won’t let you win this… I’m gonna see her… They’ll both be mine, all mine…” He continued ranting as he was practically ushered out of the doors. It wouldn’t be the last you’ve all seen of him. He wasn’t going to give up until he got what he wanted, and he wanted you, he wanted his daughter. He realized his mistakes, he’s suffered for them, he’s regretted them since day one of being caught. It was time for forgiveness, at least in his eyes it was. He’d get that one way or another, he was sure of it.
///
“What’s this?” You asked, walking into the kitchen, your daughter snuggled close against your chest. The white envelope with the massive bold letters had immediately caught your eye, and you shifted Chanas weight into one arm so you could grab the mail off the table and look at it. “Have you seen it yet? It’s already opened…”
Chan was leaning over the counter, his back turned to you, almost entirely hunched over. He was silent, but his body was shaking, the veins of his arms protruding as his fingers gripped onto the edge. “He won’t give up…” Chan mumbled, finally turning to face you, his fingers running through his hair. You could see the pain in his eyes, the faint streaks of tears on his cheeks that he had attempted to wipe away. “Let me hold her while you read it… I’ll take her…”
Your eyebrows wavered, worried about what could be inside the envelope, but you had a pretty good feeling of what it was, so you handed your daughter over to Chan before slipping out the paper. “A fucking summons? Is he serious right now?!” You screeched as you read the bold letters at the top of the paper. “He’s going too far… I thought he’d give up. I… I need to talk to him… Maybe he’ll-“
“No!” Chan practically shouted, his eyes glancing down at Chana and then back at you before taking a deep breath that left his lungs shakily. “No…” He repeated, his eyes closing as he continued to take deep breaths to calm himself. “I don’t want you talking to him. We can handle court, I’ll have one of the guys or something… They can babysit Chana… You can talk to him in court. You’re not… You’re not talking to him right now. He’ll try to use whatever you might say against you… I know how he works.”
You lowered down into one of the chairs at the table, dropping the paper down on the surface before burying your face in your hands. “She’s not even three months old yet… He’s already trying to take her away from us…” Your words were muffled in your palms, and it wasn’t made any better that you were already beginning to cry. “If he… If he takes her… I need to go with her, Chan… I-“
He shushed you, walking over to stand beside you, brushing his fingers over your hair. “Don’t say things like that. I’m not letting him get her, and I’m not letting him get you. He’s not getting my girls, not now, not ever. Please don’t think like that. You’re not going anywhere.” He leaned in to press a kiss to the top of your head. “We’ve got enough proof, enough witnesses to say that he’s not fit to be a father, he’s at work all the time… Plus, Chana is too young, she can’t be taken away from you. Everything is going to be okay. Believe me, trust me.”
Your head shook fast, your hair falling around your face, small strands sticking to your tear coated cheeks. “It’s not that easy for me to believe… this is my daughter… my baby, we’re talking about. I won’t believe that things are okay until this is done, until it’s over with and he’s completely out of our lives…” You glanced up at Chan who looked like he was deep in thought as he swayed back and forth with your daughter in his arms.
“I’m trying… I really am. I’ve got a lawyer and everything for this… I’m… I’m scared too. I don’t want him to take her… I love her, she’s our baby. I love you too, you’re my baby girl…” The pet name had you rolling your eyes, slightly flustered as you dropped your head to look at your knees. “He’s not going to win this, I won’t let him.” He slipped a finger under your chin, tilting your head back so you’d look back up at him, your glossy eyes reflecting the twinkling lights of the chandelier like stars. “You’re strong, you’re so strong, darling. I’ve watched you get over him, I’ve watched you carry a baby for 9 months and then push her out… You’re so much stronger than you think. If anyone can get through this, it’s you.” Passing your daughter into your arms, he pressed a kiss to your cheek before standing up straight again. “Take a deep breath, darling. We’re gonna get through this, together.”
Permanent TL : @whatudowhennooneseesyou @duchesskaren @mytherapisttoldmenotto @lovesunshinefelix @moon0fthenight @kurolils @maruskz @hello-2-u-from-me -> (continued in the next line because html coding is ridiculous)
@mrswolfiechan @bunnychangbin @his-angell @if-spearb @yomomma104 @lanatheawesome @facelesswrittes @grannyindehouse @cutie-wooyo @felixmainacc @syuuji @sanriiolino @yukichan67 @randomwimp @silentreadersthings @cutiespaghetti @its-hannjisung
People who wanted to be tagged in this specific fic : @hannie-bees @klyde06 @jihyun2monster @everglowdaisies @miniminkis
#stray kids#skz#stray kids x reader#stray kids x you#skz x reader#skz x you#stray kids angst#skz angst#stray kids headcanons#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#stray kids drabble#stray kids fic#skz headcanons#skz scenarios#skz imagines#skz drabble#skz fic#lee know#lee minho#lee know x reader#lee know x you#lee know angst#bangchan#bangchan x you#bangchan x reader#bangchan angst#lee know headcanons#bangchan headcanons#lee know imagines
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Propaganda
Gale Sondergaard (The Cat and the Canary, The Mark of Zorro)—She is so deliciously sinister in the Cat and the Canary it’s hilarious and ridiculous and she’s so gorgeous too! Incredible performance
Joan Crawford (Dancing Lady, Mildred Pierce, The Women)— God, where do I start!!! Her face is so UNIQUE and compelling and stands out so much. I love her thick brows and high cheekbones. She has a school-marmy hardness too her that makes her a little scary and therefore sexy. Her low thick voice also does it for me. Despite being an unusual looking woman with an unusual face, she never loses her glamour. Just a gorgeous talented actress, AND she was some sort of gay!!!
This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.
[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]
Joan Crawford propaganda:
I just love women that are very mean.
she was a smoke show in every decade, from the 20s to the 60s.
The classic matronly beauty with amazing eyebrows
of course there's a space for MILF joan but i want to just take a second and say she was so cute in her early movies (like grand hotel and the women)! those parts often get forgotten but her stardom shines in them just as much as in her older #queen #icon roles
Misremembered for wire hanger hatred, this original screen queen mastered the art of the comeback and refused to let Hollywood toss her aside as she aged. The term “auteur” is usually revered for directors or writer-directors, but most critics have one actor they’ll give that title to as well: Crawford—anyone who knows classic movies already has a “Crawford picture” in their head. She knew how to style herself and promote herself. She made herself a star and kept herself fixated in the Hollywood firmament. What’s hotter than knowing just how hot you are?
(don’t think about Mommie Dearest right now) Joan was known for being super nice to all the like crew of the movies she worked on and she’d get everyone gifts. Joan would hold movie nights at her house and knit at the back of her home theater. Joan was sooo obsessed with other women including Greta Garbo, whos dressing room she would obsessively and purposefully walk by. She said that while working on Grand Hotel, Garbo grabbed her face and “if there ever was a time in my life where I would’ve been a lesbian, that was it.” But like Joan also probably did sleep with women including Barbara Stanwyck. Joan was so obsessed with Bette Davis, screening multiple movies of hers in a day at her watch party, constantly trying to spend time with her or do a movie together, insisting on the dressing room next to hers at Warners and sending her daily gifts… etc. Once Bette said that sex was gods joke to humanity and Joan said “I think the joke is on her.” Joan fucked a lot. Joan got caught publicly fucking a man and sent a letter to the woman who saw them basically saying “I bet it excited you” and the woman was like you know what. It did. Joan was best friends with a gay man. Joan was an actually genuinely good actress even though people mocked her a lot for being like cheap and stupid (partially because she never finished school because her family was broke). Joan was so insane and so cool that’s all.
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Please Mister Miller? Part 5 CheatingJoel!Millerxf!Reader
"Please Mister Miller" part 5
Rating: 18+
Words: 4.3k
Tags/warnings: Cheating, Unprotected P in V, Dirty Talk, Public Sex, Almost Caught, Joel has a ‘Daddy’ kink, car sex, mirror sex, Feelings
Summary: Joel has to run errands and you tag along. . .
a/n: I took a poll and y’all wanted to see this sleazy pair keep gettin’ off so I hope you like it! As usual drop the comments because I live for ‘em.
masterlist
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“I'm heading into town," Joel says with eyes on everyone but you. "Gotta get some replacement lights and run a few errands if anyone wants to join."
It's the next morning and you're all around the breakfast table eating cereal and chatting about your plans for the day. You're seated next to Joel, eyes on your bowl as your thigh presses against his under the table. He keeps his leg there, not shying from your touch. It makes you feel warm all over.
"I can't," Sarah says, the lie she told you yesterday already on her lips. "I have to grab a few things from the storage locker before we go home."
She's really going to see Charlie one last time before she heads home.
"I'm going to the office for a few hours, remember?" Tess says through a mouthful, her eyes on her phone.
"Oh right," Joel says as if he'd forgotten.
"I could go with you," you say lightly. "I have a few things I need to mail off back home."
"Sure, if you want."
Joel shrugs back as if he couldn't care less. But seated next to him you see the swell of his cock under his jeans. He's eager.
That's good because so are you.
///
When you finally pull on your jacket and follow him to the garage an hour or so later you're forced to pause as you glance around curiously. You've never been in here, haven't seen this domain of his.
He's got a workbench meticulously organized with cork holders on the wall. But that's not what amazes you when you draw over to it. It's the tiny intricate carvings there, one of a snowman and another of an angel.
"I didn't know you carved," you say curiously.
Joel shrugs, not saying more. You know why, it's the same reason you don't share more about yourself. It's not relevant to what you want from one another.
"Ready to go?"
You nod, pulling yourself up into his truck and buckling yourself in. He backs out of the driveway, neither of you speaking.
For some reason this feels tense, the drive quiet and punctuated only by the gentle hum of the radio playing holiday favorites. Eventually the tension gets to Joel because he clears his throat.
"So you're goin' back tomorrow."
"Yep."
"You excited?'
You look at Joel from the corner of your eyes, amusement clear in your features. It's such a dad thing to say. He looks uneasy, his dark eyes flicking from you to the road.
"You don't have to pretend like you care," you tell him gently.
"Who says I don't?"
"Joel," you say the meaning clear.
This is fucking. This is carnal. This isn't a relationship. It's not a friendship. It's release, plain and simple.
Joel doesn't like this. You can see it in the way he drums his thick fingers over the wheel, his dark brows furrowed. He's a man who cares, even if he tries not to and so he tries another tactic.
"You got someone waiting for you back at school?"
You give a scoff. "Nope. Got dumped right before Christmas. S'why Sarah brought me with her."
Joel gives a humming noise, looking thoughtful, his presence calming. It makes you feel like you should continue.
"He was my first boyfriend," you say with your eyes on your hands in your lap. "When we broke up he said it was because he didn't want to settle down with the only girl he slept with."
Joel inhales slowly through his nose, your words upsetting him enough to now tighten his fist around the steering wheel.
"Idiot boy to let you go."
You give a weak smile, holding back the tears that build behind your eyes. "The worst part is I thought we were getting engaged."
Joel's eyes widen. "Shit."
"Yeah," you nod again. "But, you know, it was for the best. I've realized after this week with you that he was terrible in bed."
Joel lets out a surprised laugh at this; warm and full. It makes you smile to hear it. He says nothing further and the silence descends once more, but this one comfortable. Eventually you stop at a big box store with Joel jogging in to grab the lights he told Tess he'd bring home.
As you watch him you can't help but imagine what life as Joel's partner would be like. A cozy home with beautiful paintings on the walls. The smell of leather and wood shavings clinging to him as he rolls over in the morning, gathering you into his arms.
There's a longing there, a sudden desire for more than sex. A warmth that you weren't expecting when this all started.
Joel returns shortly with a box of lights under his arms and a plastic bag in the other. You look at his body, the wide shoulders and the strong thighs. Your eyes meet his and you see the desire in them as he winks at you.
If you can't have him as your partner, you'll have him now. You'll have him any way you can. Joel gives you a small smirk as he tosses the lights and bag in the back seat of the truck.
"If Tess asks, you and I had a hard time choosing the best set."
You and I.
His words rattle around in your mind.
You steal glances at him as the drive continues out of town, to where the trees are fuller, the landscape more desolate. You feel Joel's hand on your knee, fingers tracing small lines over the inside of your bare thighs.
You sigh happily, basking in the warmth of Joel's touch. When his hand slides higher you part your legs without hesitation, eyes watching from under lowered lids as his long fingers skate under your skirt.
His fingers curl under the fabric, ready to hit cotton and you hold a giggle as you wait for him to realize. He darts a look at you.
"No panties?"
"Nope," you grin.
"Good fucking girl," Joel murmurs approvingly. His voice scratches an itch deep inside you, making you preen.
Traffic is thinning but the roads are still populated enough. That doesn't stop Joel from curling his fingers into you, marveling at how wet you are.
"Always ready for me."
"Uh huh," you keen, hand flying to his. You maneuver his wrist slightly, pushing it deeper at that angle and crying out when it hits that sweet spot.
"That's right," Joel encourages with a grin. "You show me what you like."
He drives the truck, cock hard under his jeans as you give shuddering breaths beside him. His fingers dance over your slick clit as you try to remain composed, hearing as your cunt milks his fingers, your thighs quivering. He darts his eyes from you to the road and back again.
"C'mon baby," Joel urges you, his cheeks pinking. "Gimme a good one."
You do. Your hips buck into his hand as you cry out, body jolting in the seat and feeling your warm release dripping over his palm like honey.
You watch in a daze as Joel brings his slick fingers out from under your skirt to his mouth, licking slowly.
"Tastes so sweet," he rumbles.
You let out a small moan at the sight of it. Your hand reaches for the bulge in his jeans but he shakes his head, gently pressing your hand away to fold back in your lap.
"Not yet," he says with a voice of sin. "Be patient."
You don't have to be patient for much longer. In less than fifteen minutes you've arrived at the destination, a large dirt pile on one side, gravel stacks on the other. It looks like an abandoned quarry.
"Where are we?"
"Construction site my company is working on," Joel murmurs. He turns the car off, unbuckling his seatbelt. You raise a brow.
"Why here?"
"Got lots of privacy," Joel says smiling, his body tilting to face you. "Can be as loud as we want."
You duck your head, suddenly shy. You crack the window slightly, needing something to cool the heat in your cheeks. Joel shifts into the middle of the bench seat, down to business. There's no seduction, no romance.
"Over my lap," Joel murmurs gently, his eyelids already heavy. "C'mon now."
You smile shyly as you unbuckle yourself and crawl over the bench seat. You move delicately over his lap, breath leaving you as your abdomen goes over his muscular thighs. Your face is burning as he brings your skirt up over your ass to your waist, making a humming noise as he looks at the sweet flesh waiting for him.
Joel slaps your ass, watching it jostle under his hand. You yelp in surprise, but not in pain. His wide hand grips one cheek, his groans low and long.
"All for me," he mutters and you bite your lower lip, groaning at how deep his voice is when he says it.
He smacks it again, his cock hardening further under you as he watches your ass jiggle deliciously.
"You’re up for anything aren't you?"
You consider this as he places another slap to your ass, hypnotized at how your flesh moves under his hand.
"Yeah."
"You like older men?"
"Dunno," you say, arching as Joel's hand continues slapping your ass. "You're my first."
"You lyin' to me?"
"No Mister Miller," you say honestly, tilting so you can meet his surprised gaze. "I've only slept with one other person."
"Are you fucking serious?"
"Yeah."
He almost snarls at that. He urges you to a kneeling position before he twists you to face away from him on your knees.
Your shirt is tugged off over your head by him, discarded by your purse on the floor of the truck. Joel is behind you, urging you onto all fours on the seat as he pulls down his jeans. He grabs handfuls of your ass, squeezing and groaning.
"Gonna let me fuck this little ass?"
For the first time since you've met him you pause. You've never done that before. It's never appealed to you. It still doesn't if you're honest.
Joel seems to sense your hesitancy. You wait for him to chastise, to show his disappointment. But instead his voice drops an octave.
"On second thought, I wanna fuck that sweet pussy raw instead."
Joel is much more vocal here, less restrained in the privacy of his truck. You smile when you feel him notch himself at your entrance.
"Gimme something to remember," Joel grunts out as he thrusts into you. You let out a hiss of pleasure at the sensation, hands curling around the worn material of the trucks seat.
He sets a brutal pace, sending you flying if not for his hands holding your hips in place. He grunts out as he fucks into you, murmuring under his breath. You rock back and forth, ass bouncing off his hips as he thrusts.
"Good girl ...good girl..."
You feel his wide right palm move to hold you in place by your lower back and you feel your pussy tighten around his cock. You jerk forward, your tits jolting as he slides between you, thrusting you forward and back.
"Use your left hand to pin me," you whimper. He's confused for a moment, hesitating before he does as you ask. He glowers at you when he realizes what you're after.
"You want me looking at my wedding ring while I fuck you."
"Uh huh," you twist to look at him over your shoulder, smirking. He's looking at you with his jaw slack and eyes dark with desire. Joel grunts out, hips smacking obscenely against the meat of your ass.
"Want you to know how bad you’re being."
That you're choosing me an insidious voice whispers inside you.
"Does your wife's pussy feel this good, Mister Miller?" you ask, moans being punched out of you with every thrust. "This wet 'n tight for you?"
Joel gives a strangled groan as his hand tangles itself in your hair. He tugs, pulling you to arch against him. Your ass ripples with every thrust, your hands braced on the edges of the seat.
"You fucking shut up and take this cock," Joel grunts out angrily. He watches your body start with every thrust into you.
"I'll give you anything you want," you promise, voice cracking. "Just don't stop. You feel so fucking good."
"Pussy's never been fucked right," Joel tells you.
"Uh uh," you shake your head as much as you can with Joel's fist still tugging.
"Only fucked a boy," Joel says, his hips jerking forward. "When you needed a man's cock inside you."
"Yes Mister Miller," you groan out, tears flooding your waterline. It feels so fucking good. Not just because it's wrong but because he's so deep inside you and he knows what he's doing.
"Gonna take all this come," Joel grunts and you can feel him starting to unravel.
"Gonna take-"
Joel ceases abruptly, pulling from you so brutally you cry out. He practically shoves you away from him.
"Put on your fucking clothes. Hurry."
There's a fear in his voice that you've never heard before. It prompts you to do as he asked, pulling the shirt back on and tucking it into your skirt. Joel tucks himself back into his jeans as you look out the rearview mirror just in time to see a cop car pulling up behind the truck .
"Shit," Joel swears and you can see the panic in his face. He knows how this looks. Alone with a college girl in his car, the band on his left finger a brutal reminder of how wrong it all is.
The officer gets out of his car before slowly sauntering towards the truck. Joel is thankful for the cracked the window because fogged up windows would incriminate him absolutely.
"Hey there," the officer says leaning over Joel's lowered window.
"Hey officer," Joel says trying to sound calm. "I know I wasn't speeding..."
The two men chuckle lightly as you hold in an eye roll. Dad humor.
"License and registration."
Joel's face is pinched as he leans over you to open the glove box. He pulls out some papers and then pulls his wallet from his back pocket, retrieving his license. You watch him pass off both to the officer.
"What're you doing all the way out here... Joel Miller?" The officer says peering at the license from behind his aviators.
My construction company is working on this site," Joel says, hands indicating out the windshield. "Wanted to check in on it over the holidays. Heard there were some break-ins nearby."
The officer’s eyes drag over to you, sitting quietly watching them. Suspicion fills the officers expression.
"And you’re just tagging along, miss?"
Joel's head swivels to face you, eyes unreadable. But you know him; you can feel the anxiety coming off of him in waves.
You straighten, giving the officer your best and brightest smile. The kind that says you're honest and trustworthy. The kind you use with professors when you need to turn in late assignments.
"Yeah, my Daddy promised me a ride," you say, batting your eyelashes at the officer and smiling broadly. "I don't get to see him as much since I'm away at college."
Joel is looking at you with a mix of confusion and horror.
The officer's suspicion flees from his eyes, his countenance softening. You think that somewhere back home this officer has a daughter who ignores his texts, who rolls her eyes when he suggests a family game night.
"Sweet she still wants to spend time with you at this age," the officer says almost fondly looking between you.
You nod, taking Joel's hand in yours. He's stricken, his hands barely curling around yours.
"I'm really lucky," you say smiling sweetly at the officer. "He treats me so well but then again I'm always a good girl for you, right Daddy?"
You don't miss Joel's neck bobbing as you say this. Don't miss the swelling of his cock starting again under his jeans. He shifts, his shirt falling over the vee of his legs.
"Yep," Joel nods stiffly.
"I bet you are," the officer says with a warm smile. He hands Joel back his license before tapping a finger to the brim of his hat. "Well I won't interfere any more. Take care you two. Happy Holidays."
"Happy Holidays officer!" You chirp as Joel croaks out a weak farewell. You both watch as the officer loads back into his police car and drives off down the one way road.
Minutes pass and the two of you are silent, waiting, watching. Finally you see Joel's shoulders relax and he lets out a breath. You giggle, relief flooding your senses.
"Daddy?" Joel grimaces over at you. "Don't tell me you're one of those."
You shrug, uncertain. You may not be completely into it but Joel sure is, despite his denial. You see it in the blown out pupils of his dark eyes.
"So do I get a ride?" you ask him as you crawl over to him, eyes trailing his body.
"You insane?" Joel says with disbelief in his features. "We almost got caught by a fucking cop."
"He won't be back," you say grinning wickedly. Your finger goes to trace his still hard cock through his jeans. "And we both know you still want to."
"Shouldn't," Joel groans even as he fumbles with the button and fly of his jeans.
You crawl over his lap and situate yourself between Joel and the steering wheel, facing out the windshield. It’s so desolate, yet the thought that you could be caught turns you on. You start smiling as he tugs the t-shirt over your head again and pulls you onto his waiting cock.
He slides seamlessly through your dripping folds, cupping your tits in his hands. You arch into his grip and begin to rock your hips.
"Mhmmm, good girl."
You listen as Joel begins grunting behind you and you lean back, the back of your head tilted against his shoulder as he fucks up into you. Your hands hold loosely to his wrists whimpering when he begins to twist your nipples ever so slightly between his fingers.
“Feels good, Daddy," you whisper, smirking when you hear Joel give a choke of surprise.
You catch his heavy-lidded gaze in the rearview mirror and you grin. He likes that he can watch you fucking. You can see how he holds you against him, fucking up into you. You reach up to tilt the mirror slightly and then bring your legs up, forcing your thighs to part and giving a lewd view of where you’re connected.
You bunch your skirt at your waist so you can both see him thrusting up between your legs in the mirrors reflection. You're both mesmerized at the sight of his glossy cock as it saws in and out of you.
"Daddy, you're so big."
"You're fucking sick," Joel says without conviction, his voice breathless.
"Can feel you throbbing when I call you that, though." You giggle. "Can feel it when your fucking me with your big cock, Daddy."
Joel makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. You feel him tightening every time the word passes through your lips.
"Stop pretending you don't like it, Mister Miller."
You give him a wink in the rearview mirror before just tilting back and enjoying the sight of you two fucking. You both look good together, Joel’s handsome face over your shoulder so he can watch his cock splitting you over and over. You see your tits hanging out, rosy tipped nipples between his fingertips. They ripple as Joel enters you over and over. The slick of Joel's cock shines between your legs.
His right hand slides over the crease of your thigh, nimble fingers gliding over the slick pearl of your clit. You give a gutteral moan as pleasure shoots through you.
"Atta girl," Joel smiles broadly at your reflection, watching you bounce for him, his thumb circling your clit with shocking precision.
You groan, your breathing becoming staccato-ed. You don't know how you're going to go back to regular life. How you're going to attend classes and pretend like this last week and a half never happened.
"Feels good riding Daddy's cock, doesn't it?" Joel rasps against your ear, eyes still on yours in the mirror bringing you back to the present.
There he is.
"Yes Daddy."
"Good girl."
It feels so debauched, so illicit. Joel still can't look away, eyes glued to the mirror and his hips move faster as he watches him fuck you in his truck. The same truck he drives to work and does the weekly shopping trip in.
"So fuckin' good for Daddy... So fuckin' wet."
You can tell he's far gone, words slurring. You give a wide lurid smile, rocking your hips down over him. You watch his face in the mirror and see the glaze to his eyes, the way his jaw is hanging slightly ajar. He whimpers, a needy sound that lets you know you have him exactly where you need him.
Joel groans, fingers dimpling your thighs as he fucks up into you faster. Your eyes are rolling back, making Joel jerk his hips up quicker.
"Please," you moan. "Need it."
"What do you need, good girl?"
"Need you to fill me up," you whine, voice breaking with every thrust of him into you. You rock against him, ass bouncing.
"You need Daddy's come?" Joel grunts out, hand lightly holding you against him by the throat.
You can only whine a reply of "yes!", being tugged so harshly against his cock that your teeth crash together. And then you feel that tension in you snap and pleasure floods you, causing you to let out cracked cries of "daddy please!" as you ride out your orgasm, watching Joel the entire time.
"Take it take it," Joel groans, hands going to your waist, holding you in place as his hips move with jerking desperation. "Daddy's girl, Daddy's good girl..."
You watch as Joel's face contorts, eyes slamming shut as he empties himself into you, crying out as he thrusts one finger time and you feel him erupt inside you. He buries his face in the back of your neck as his hips slowly stutter to a stop.
"Fuuuuck," he murmurs as he pulls his softening cock from between your legs. "That was good."
"It really was," you say, sagging against the steering wheel and giving a breathless laugh. Joel's hand is resting on your thigh, gently tracing his fingertips there.
You take a moment to compose yourself before glancing over your shoulder to look at Joel. His face is so close, your lips almost grazing. You two lock eyes, breathing against each other's mouths. It's you who moves first, lips inching to his. But it's Joel who twists his head, blinking.
"We should get back."
Joel shifts and you pull yourself off of his lap, crawling back to where you were sitting. Joel leans back to grab something from the bag.
"Here, I uh, I bought this earlier," Joel says handing you a packet of wipes and a small towel. You smirk before using them to clean his spend from between your legs.
Eventually the truck starts and you watch the quarry grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. You drive in silence, not even the radio to accompany you on your journey back.
"Can I ask you somethin'?"
You glance over at Joel who looks strangely withdrawn. "Sure."
"Why didn't you go home to your parents place? Didn't they miss you this Christmas?"
"They uh.... " you trail off, wincing a bit. "They don't really... My parents don't really care what I do. We all kinda do our own thing."
You can feel it immediately, the pity radiating off of Joel. It makes you cringe, your hands twisting around the edge of the seat.
"Maybe if you tried talkin'-"
"I'd worry about your own family before you start giving me advice about mine," you snap out at him feeling irritable. Joel's dark eyes scan to you before going back to the road.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know Sarah has a secret boyfriend back here? Apparently your friends with his dad," you tell him, cheeks warm. "She's afraid you'll judge her if she tells you because he didn't finish college."
You see Joel's jaw clench and you feel so satisfaction at his discomfort. You realize it's not just about this, but the kiss he shied from earlier.
But guilt overwhelms you when you realize you've out-ed your best friend.
"I'm not telling you this so you'll be shitty to her," you chastise. "I'm telling you this because you love your daughter and you guys have a great relationship. You're lucky."
You break off temporarily, swallowing.
"She really likes him. And if you tell her you hate him she's just gonna see him in secret like she has been this entire trip."
Joel drives silently, eyes narrowed. You know he's fighting an internal battle.
"The way Sarah talks about you? You're her hero," you say quietly. "The thought of disappointing you kills her."
You see it in his eyes first, the softening as your words hit home. You see what it's like to be a father first and a disciplinarian second. You look away, feeling your heart being clutched at by a tight yet invisible grip.
Minutes later Joel's hand finds your knee as he drives, squeezing.
"Thanks for tellin' me."
"You're welcome."
Finally you pull into the driveway, hiding the bag of wipes and hand towels under the passenger’s seat. Joel looks strangely sombre as he turns the ignition off, glancing at you.
"You know, you're a very special-"
"Please Joel," you say wincing. "Don't."
Before he can say anything more you slip from the truck, heading into the house, feeling his eyes following your every step.
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