#six years exactly today | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonlesslights · 11 months

Text

Two Idiots in Love

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Sex, P in V, choking, breeding kink, innuendos, Miguel it's fucking hard to talk to.

A/N: Hope you enjoy this, I haven't sleep well for three days trying to get it done, but it's finally here. Love y'all xoxox

━━━━━━✧❂✧━━━━━━

Ok, but what about you becoming an Spider just about a year ago?

You are managing just fine.

Things got nasty for a while, that’s true. Your uncle died, your new responsibilities caught up on you, you almost die fighting some bad guys on your first months… And now you just try to eat three times a day (sometimes it doesn’t happen), pray to get more than six hours of sleep and do good in college.

But then, out of fucking nowhere, just when you were making peace with what your life was now and who you are, your identity, your place in this big ass world where you were completely alone to bear this double life… This giant prick with sullen face and cheeks the size of the moon comes into your life to tell you you’re not alone, everyone here has experienced the same or worse, stop being so dramatic.

So, in a second, your protagonist moment turns to you finding out there were thousands like you out there. And your whole life goes upside down.

Because now you don’t have to protect and look out only for your Earth, your city; but everyone else’s too. You have to travel to the most craziest worlds you could’ve ever imagine and fight horrible creatures you couldn’t even conceive its existence. And to make things even worst, Mr. Wide Hindquarters took an special hold of you to help him out with anything he would be ‘to busy’ to do. Like inform new recruits about their missions, filling out reports, doing research either respecting to what he occupied in the laboratory or to some universe yet to be explored… Whatever he needed, you would be called in to do it.

Some Spiders told you you were lucky, not many could work that close to Miguel, let alone being in charge of so many things without screwing something up and getting ‘their head ripped’. Even Lyla tells you that you’re something special, specially on the hard days, that’s why Miguel trusts you so much. After that you would just smile tiredly at her, whispering it was okay. Then Lyla would go face Miguel and demand him with a raised eyebrow to give you a break.

You manage for a few months, surrendering yourself to this strange routine. And your even more strange companion.

Every day you walk in to his space, every day he is already there. You turn a personal mission to arrive before he does. You never make it. The man apparently didn’t sleep and you aren’t waking the fuck up at 3:00am to prove a point or find out. So you let it be as another mystery to be solved.

“Good morning.” You wave your hand at him, making your presence known with that. Sometimes between a yawn, sometimes still cleaning the sleepiness off of your eyes.

“Good morning…” He always adds your last name to his greetings. It makes you feel like you are being scolded. Most of the time he is at the tables, working through the screens; if he’s not there, he’s at the lab, measuring substances with the help of crystal clear instruments.

Without looking at you, he points with his chin to the steaming coffee under the express machine. Through the weeks he has learned exactly how you like it. The first ones he made you were exactly like his: Awful. That couldn’t be drinkable. But you thought it was nice of him to always have hot coffee for you, so you didn’t say anything. But the faces you made at every sip were worth a thousand words.

Now, as you drink today’s, you cannot avoid thinking how cute that big stoic man must look every morning pouring the exact amount of sugar and cream you like into the cup. Moving the liquid with a tiny spoon until is all mixed.

He doesn’t talk much.

No more than orders and “Go home” followed by a “Good night”. You let him be for the first weeks. Not your business. But after the first month you knew you would go crazy if you continued this way of living.

You needed to talk to him. You needed to make things less awkward. He was your only human contact sometimes for entire days, and you cannot stand the fact of barely talking to him.

You don’t have idea how does the term “coworkers” serves on his Earth, but in yours, Human Relationships are encouraged to happen for the sake of teamwork.

With that very idea well tangled on your mind, one of those long days, you take a deep breath, imagine him naked (which isn’t difficult to be honest), stare deep into the space and say:

“Sohowhaveyoubeen?” Squeaking as fast as you can.

Miguel stops whatever the hell he is doing and turns his head to the right, side eyeing you with a raised eyebrow. You don’t even look at him, continuing to fill the document in front of you with the most unstable smile he could have seen in his entire life. Then, he turns around again, coming back to typing into one of the screens. You almost think he has completely ignored you until he answers in another fast and neutral line:

“I’m good.”

You give him an acknowledging nod, smiling softly and returning to your duties.

You had never wished so much to be victim of a lost bullet. Like right now. Like right fucking now. Please.

For one more week you took another personal mission: making a question a day.

“How was your day?”, “Did you have breakfast?”, “How was yesterday’s mission?”… It would be a good day if you got more than a monosyllable for answer. It was embarrassing, really. And Lyla looking at you with a grimace made it ten times worst.

After that, you just came in the eighth day and remained silent, focused in finishing all your work as soon as possible rather than trying to make your prick boss to talk to you. You felt bad, actually. Maybe he just doesn't like to talk, maybe you were making him uncomfortable, maybe... Maybe he's just an arse. Yeah, that is probably the right...

"Hm? Uh, what... What is this?" You look up from your tablet, facing the broad of his back walking to the desk at the other side of the room. You raise an eyebrow at the small cardboard box in front of you, the one that Miguel just left there.

"Food." He says as answering the very question to the origin of the universe.

"For me?" You tilt your head and he looks at you like you were stupid. You frown. How were you supposed to know that, when he barely even looks at you?!

"I did too much." He explains. "... So I brought you some. You can throw it away if you don't want it."

You look down at the box again, watching it as the weirdest of things, and cannot help the little smile that creeps up to your lips. You knew Miguel didn't eat at the HQ cafeteria, since he owns an apartment close from here, so this was completely homemade. Hm, you never thought he was into cooking.

"Why can't I give it to someone else if I don't like it?" You respond with an easy smile, almost teasing him.

"Throw it." He sentences without even looking back at you.

You side eye Lyla at your left, who winks at you. This is a whole ass victory. And you and the little hologram girl knew internally Miguel did not like the day you decided to stop trying to talk to him.

"Thank you." You finally murmur. "I really appreciate it."

"It's just leftovers..."

You nod, pursing your lips and… Still smiling. Fuck it. It was obvious he was going to dismiss it with something like that.

None of you says anything else for the rest of the day, but you make the choice to keep trying on the small talk every day and Miguel, apparently, started to mess up the amount of ingredients for his meals and brings leftovers almost daily.

You continue with this new routine for another couple of weeks.

With the time passing, you gain more and more confidence to talk to the big guy. Most of the times he doesn’t engage in the conversation, it is just you saying your thoughts out loud and telling him everything about your life at college, 'till the point he has a personal beef with some of your classmates. I mean, he doesn’t say it but he surely grunts under his breath every time you mention their name.

Gwen did asked you at some point if he really listened to you or if he just... Left you. You wondered the same for exactly... two hours.

"... And I handed him my essay, right? And he looks at me and says: 'So are you going to tell me who is helping you with these or am I going to find out myself?' So I obviously told him nobody was helping me, I just like doing them. And he freaking threatened me saying that if he founds out he's going to fail me. Like... He doesn't even listens. Agh, he hates me..."

"Is the same one who got angry because you were late to his lecture about himself and his recently published book?" That was a week ago. And he remembered.

You nod, sighing. Miguel clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval.

He might not be talkative (at least for now) but he listens to you. You have no doubt left about that. He may not say a single word while you drop a hundred for minute, but he would come the next day asking "How was the test?" or would know you have classes with that professor and add to his daily good night a soft "Good luck tomorrow." You even start catching him lifting the left corner of his lips when you drop a bad joke about all the things you need to get done by the end of the day or about something you heard on your way there.

You noticed it when certain Spider came in to a meeting, a Spider two days ago you and Miguel had gossiped about because you were told something by your friends on Wednesday, Miguel heard some more on Thursday and with a final comment you put the pieces together on Friday, looking at him with a wide proud open mouth as he shook his head with a soft chuckle. Talking to the Spider in question Miguel would turn to you with the most neutral and blank expression and you would still fight to hide your smile at the memory of everything you found out during the week. No one ever noticed and you liked it. Miguel liked it. It was like a private joke only the two of you could share.

"But what would happen?" This was the part Miguel didn't like. "Like, how would you know I would fuck up something?"

"You cannot give Noir a kaleidoscope." He sentences, giving you another raised eyebrow.

You were in the middle of the daily session of Instructive and Informative questions, according to Lyla and you. Miguel prefers to call them Destructive and Irritating.

After today's mission you had taken a particular soft spot fo the black and white Spider, to the misfortune of your boss. So the whole session has been about the long shot of taking special gifts from your dimension to him.

"But why? Really, what's the worst that could happen if I just give him a tiny little kaleidoscope?"

"Ay, Dios, dame paciencia... You already gave him a rainbow slinky spring toy, why do you keep insisting on gifting him more stuff?"

He fix his gaze on you as you lower your eyes down to your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "... He just looks happy when he sees color."

Miguel sighs, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"I know, but every one of us needs to respect the natural order of our Earth. He shouldn't keep taking things with him that shouldn't be there, do you understand?"

"But..."

"No more 'but's'. I want those reports done by the end of the day." Miguel returns his eyes back to the screen in front of him, dismissing you just with that action. "Get to work instead of keep losing our time with this."

He hates the way you comply to his orders. Hates the way you leave the space beside him empty to go working at the other side of the room, where he can only see your back. He hates when you refuse him to see your face.

The human part in him hates the questioning sessions because they always end up with your heart too big for your own good, crushed a little bit more. The human part in him is what brings him closer to you after a few minutes, talking you through some trivial topics until he can convince you it is all not as bad a it seems, until you smile again when you insist it's okay, that you just needed a minute, that you understand. And he might o might not tell you can give Noir that fucking kaleidoscope if you want it so much.

But some deep and primal part in him whispers into his veins to walk up to you, take you by your jaw, forcing you to look up at him and order you you better not refuse your face to him one more single time again. That if he wishes to see your eyes, the curve of your nose or your lips, you better fucking show them to him... Every day. Every. Time. He. Wants. To.

He gets frustrated when he catches himself in the middle of those thoughts, of the drives. He has been able to control it magnificently 'till now. But he fears the day he won't.

For another while you enjoyed the 'leftovers' brought to you too. But it also came to happen the one day, they stopped being leftovers:

You yawn as you make your way to the exit of the lab, making sure your alarm for tomorrow is correctly scheduled, you can not afford another harsh look from your professors one more time. The building has fallen silent already; most of its ordinary inhabitants have already retired to their rooms or to their home worlds.

Miguel walks up to you from behind, watching you standing at the door. Neither of them managed to see even a ray of sun today. He didn't care, he had something much better to watch all day… But he can't help but sigh at the thought of taking it from you.

"Italian or Mexican?" You turn to look at him, barely catching what he said. Both of your brows furrow and he glares at you while adjusting the neck of his jacket on. "For tomorrow's lunch. You want me to bring Italian or Mexican?"

"Oh, uhm..." You widen your eyes, surprised by the consideration. Pursing your lips and squinting, you think about it for a second, but the only possible answer comes immediately after: "Mexican."

"Hm." He nods, fixing his eyes to the front again.

Both start walking now towards the exit of the building. You know you can open your portal to go back home now, but you refuse to do so. Miguel knows there's an exit on the other side of the lab that leads him to a closer path to his apartment, but he refuses to take it. Because you always take this one.

"It's getting chilly." You whisper, watching the first snowflakes of the season falling on the other side of the big windows in the lobby. Miguel hums in response. "I like it, though. The first month working with you I had to carry a fan with me everywhere. I am so sorry for the cost of the electricity bill back then."

Miguel tugs at one corner of his lips, but only that. You tilt your head, glaring at him for a second before you take two fast steps to put yourself in front of him. The poor man has to stick his feet to the floor to avoid knocking over you.

He frowns, confused, and you look up at him with those same eyes filled with determination you put on when you look at the cookies he always -purposely- leaves on top of the highest cupboard in his office. He could only describe it as the face of a master plan, because you would always come back with ideas to get them down without asking him for help. And he loved to play guess with what you would do this time.

"Smile for me." You ask as you were some kind of cameraman, and if he was confused before he's into a new level now.

"What?"

"Y'know..." You bring both of your index fingers to the opposite sides of your face and part your own lips into a simple smile, like showing him what he was supposed to do.

"I know what smiling is." He frowns. "Why do you want me to do it?"

You shrug. "I just... I would be really happy to see it."

Miguel's expression remains unfazed, but he prays to every God out there you can't listen how hard his heart jumped inside his chest when your words reached him.

He swallows. His eyes fix on you and he brings both of the corners of his mouth up, exposing bright teeth and two big fangs that brush on his lower lip in the most precious awkward smile you could have ever seen. His brows are drawn together and he looks like he's in pain, and you know that even if a fucking meteor crashed down in the city right now, you still wouldn't be able to look away.

You clear your throat and lament how his smile is gone as soon as it came. You brush your hand at the back at your neck, nervous, fucking ashamed of your imprudence. Miguel raises an eyebrow at your reaction.

"Thank you. That was nice of you." You smile, avoiding his eyes and solely focusing on the snow awaiting for you. "I'm sorry if it was unpleasant for you. I didn't mean..."

Your words get caught up in your throat when you suddenly feel the texture of fabric coming around your neck. You turn back to look at the front again only to find Miguel tugging his scarf on you, with his fingers making sure it hugged every part of your skin your sweater couldn't.

"Miguel, no. It's even colder here than on my Earth. You need this more than I do." You frown with a worried expression washing over your features.

"You'll come back tomorrow pretty early. And it's going to be cold." You could try and argue about you having your own scarfs to bring tomorrow with you, but his eyes tell you he is not asking.

"... Thank you."

Miguel laments the moment your turn around, laments the moment you don't look at him anymore. He is sure the smile from a minute ago hadn't been anywhere near one of his best, and yet your eyes shone with the light of all the moons he's seen in all of the Earths he has visited.

And as you do a little wave when you start walking away before entering your portal, Miguel waves back, slowly and with only two unsure swings of his wrist. It was enough to make you smile anyway. It was enough to keep him standing there even after you were long gone wondering what the hell he was doing.

When Miguel began to bring food made specially to share, you began to bring desserts from your Earth for him to try.

You both started having lunch together after you told him how tired you were of eating while standing. Don't get me wrong, when you first told him he 'offered' you to go eat at the cafeteria if you wanted it so much. But when he dismisses you for the second time the next day with a 15 minute break to go find somewhere to sit, you, instead, sit down reluctantly at the very center of his work space, just a few meters behind him.

Miguel has to do a fucking double take to make sure he is seeing right before turning around at you calmly crossing your legs on the floor and unboxing today's meal with abrupt and resigned movements.

"Could you be so kind as to explain to me what you are doing?" He tilts his head with amusement when you take the first bite of your food.

"Eating."

"Sitting on the floor?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Sitting on the floor." You nod.

"Care to explain why?" He crosses his arms, pursing his lips when you refuse to raise your eyes at him.

"... Because of you." You murmur, taking another unnecessarily aggressive bite.

"Elaborate, please."

You keep on looking down, chewing the morsel in your mouth. Miguel awaits for you with well known experienced patience. By now, he recognizes when you are mad at him or the world, he sees how you fight to keep calm inside of all of this mess, that's why he always tries to encourage you to talk out the things that bother you, because he's there, he can listen; because he likes the way you smile after you let it all out.

And maybe...

"I don't care about eat sitting comfortably at the cafeteria. I want to eat with you. So if you want to stay here be my fucking guest. I'm staying here too."

Because you were the only one who could throw a tantrum at Miguel O'Hara without flinching.

You have earned that right. You didn't know when, because you insist you don't throw tantrums at him; you're a college student, basically an adult, you don't do tantrums. And still...

"Fine, spoiled girl..." He sighs, walking to get his own little box from the table and then coming to close the space between the two with a few long steps. He sits down right beside you, imitating the way you're crossing your legs. "If you want to eat on the floor, we can eat on the floor."

"I'm not spoiled." You hiss, giving him a deadly side eye that puts on a soft, almost unnoticeable grin on his face. Lyla had made fun of him a few days ago about him spoiling you, but instead of getting on his nerves he took a liking for the nickname. And now you suffer the consequences of it all. "And we wouldn't be eating on the floor if you decided to go to the cafeteria for once."

"... I hate talking to people."

You sigh, nodding. That's exactly why you never push him to do anything of that sort.

"I know." You turn to look at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how he keeps his head low while eating. "Hey" You call for his attention, smiling. He blinks up to you, tilting his head. "It's okay." Your shoulder drops to his arm. "I like being here. I'm not stuck with you, you're stuck with me."

That makes his eyes catch a little bit more of light.

"Thank you." He whispers.

You stare at him for a second more and he fights to put all of the mess inside his head, his feelings, into his tongue... But he can't. You continue eating, and he knows you would never hold a grudge on him for it, and he's so thankful for that, for you being able to understand the way his actions speak when his words can't. But he still aches at the thought of never being able to tell you everything he wants.

The next morning you walk in to find out a new cleared space beside the screens with an elegant glass table and two chairs. It surely looked expensive, like everything he does and has, but for you, it's just the little corner where you can leave that particular cake from your Earth he seems to like so much, and then go to the laboratory to see the cake you seemed to like so much.

After two more weeks enjoying the day-to-day in the usual things in your life, you and Miguel got to a mission which revealed as the true calmness before the storm.

The anomaly you had fought was stronger than expected, more aggressive, more letal. Everyone had run lucky at least two times to escape from its claws, but you can still remember their closeness, the screams, the sirens at the distance. It all almost ends up with another canonic event altered.

"There's always a first time." Jessica had told you when you finally finished off the anomaly. She was worried about you, and you can't blame her. You haven't even registered how bad you were trembling until it was all over.

"Is there going to be a last time?" You replied, looking up at her with big eyes. And Miguel, only a few meters behind you, still trying to give some last orders to every Spider there, felt his heart breaking at the very sound of your words.

Nevertheless, thankfully, the universe remained perfectly fine and just a couple of hours later everyone was back home safely again. Most returned immediately to their Home Earths, but you, Miguel, Jessica, Lyla and a couple more had ten thousand things to do in the HQ before calling it a day.

"I thought I told you to go home an hour ago." Miguel points, coming from behind you.

You turn your head to look up at him and you can't not smile at the sight. The feeling of safeness that floods you when you see his huge figure entering any room hasn't wavered for a single second. He's still that solid ground you can always rest on when the world is to heavy to carry alone.

"I'm serious. What are you doing here?" He continues, grunting in pain when he drops his weight beside you. You turn to him, furrowing your brows in worry again. He had seen that expression in you so often today... And he hates it so much. "I'm okay. Just little scratches here and there."

You withdrawn your feet from the edge of the building where you had them hanging for an hour now and crawl your way to him, sitting down on your knees to try to be eye height with him.

Your right hand wanders to his bruised neck, there where the anomaly had left his horrible mark of the violence it brought within. You follow with your index the way the clotted blood draws on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

"Does it hurt?" You ask.

"No." He responds in between goosebumps.

He loves the effect your touch has on him. He loves your little hands looking for him, tugging at his clothes to call for his attention, brushing against his when you pass him the tablet, documents, anything. He loves the busy days where he doesn't have time to eat, where he wouldn't eat if it wasn't for you sitting beside him as he works on the screens, you scrolling through your cellphone, taking little pieces of food with a spoon or a fork to bring them closer to his mouth so he could eat without even taking his eyes off the screen.

Ridiculous? Yeah. But he loved the intimacy within. The many forms your soft hands could soothe him.

But his? He hated them. He was scared of them. Their only use was to destruct, to tear flesh apart, not to...

"Show me." He asks, pointing with his chin at your left hand placed softly above your thigh.

"It's nothing."

"Let me see it." He insist and you carefully bring your arm up, placing your fingers against his when he holds out his hand for you. Your whole palm is bandaged, the work the doctor did on you was amazing, but he can still see dried blood on it.

He doesn't say anything when he finds your eyes on him, conflicted, hesitant. There is so much between both of you, so much unsaid, so much still to do. But he sees your doubt, he hates to be the cause of it. He stays still, but he wants to scream at you, to make your little head understand: "How can't you see?! Can't you see how much you mean to me?! You're the only thing in my mind when I'm fighting, because I know I have to win, I have to get out alive to see you again. Eres lo único por lo que mi corazón llama!... Can't you not hear it?"

Instead, the tips of his fingers brush on your skin, his eyes reflecting every single light of the city below.

"Come." It's only a whisper that leaves his mouth, and you need nothing more to jump into his embrace with a desperate sigh, immediately cuddling yourself up on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, looking for his warm.

Hold.

He loves to hold you.

His hands serve to hold you.

To hold you against him, to protect you from anyone who wants to rip you away from his arms. To keep you warm, to keep you safe, to let you know you're home.

"Aquí estoy." He whispers.

"I know." You reply.

You breath into his scent for a couple of minutes more, until the screams and the sirens fell low to the sound of Miguel's chest going up and down in a soothing swing, his breathing, turning into the only thing you could listen to.

By the time you got your head out of his neck, he was already waiting for you with a soft smile, smile that puts your attention on the deep cut on his lower lip.

"What happened?" You ask, carefully pulling from his flesh to see the whole extension of the wound.

He sighs, closing his eyes with embarrassment. "I bit myself during the fight."

You smile, shaking your head. Your fingernail taps against the right fang in question, testing the edge by gently pressing the tip into your fingertip.

"I hate them." Miguel breaths out. His eyes are now so dim that you struggle to say where are they looking at in the middle of the night darkness.

"Why?" You whisper, taking your finger back at his lip.

"Because I fear of them. I fear they'll hurt you like they hurt me."

You purse your lips and then take his hand placed on your hip, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

"Is the same with these?"

He nods.

"They are made to kill. I have done so many horrible things with, caused so much damage and pain, I..."

"Did you know I'm scared of heights?" His trail of words stop at your interruption. You smile, looking down from the edge, turning away form him just a little. "Ironic, for a Spider. But I still fight with it every single day. I always get so sticky when I'm on top of a building for too long it's embarrassing but..." You raise your hand in front of him, waving your fingers with a playful smile. "I'm not sticky now. And that it's because you're holding me." You cup his face. "Those things you're afraid of, are part of the person I love. And I wouldn't change a single thing."

"Mi cielo..."

"I knew what I was getting into when I decided to love you, Miguel, so don't get all soft now. I'm not going anywhere..." You whisper. "Make me bleed."

He would be lying if he said he haven't thought about it, that he haven't succumbed to his most animalistic urges when alone in the privacy of his room, pretending it was you around his cock and not his fist. He wanted to bite, he wanted to fill you. And he wanted to tear apart with his bare talons anyone and anything that got in his way.

A part of him might be scared to hurt you, yes.

But a bigger part of him was actually scared of what he would do to keep you safe. Of what he's capable of... to keep you his.

He feels sorry for you when you cuddle against his chest in your sleep as he stands up and starts walking back inside the building, covering you with his jacket to protect from the cold wind of the city for when he swings back to his apartment with you in his arms.

He feels sorry for the innocence in your love.

Like a beast, that's what he was. A beast who loved the softness in your touch, the kind in your words. But cannot return the same love. The beast is possessive, jealous of the very air that caresses your hair. And it may act vulnerable only to you, letting you get as close to slaughter him, but knowing you'll place a kiss instead. The beast would hold you as his own treasure, a creature that must not be hurt, not even for his own hands. He would cut them off before.

He would cut them off from anyone before they touch you. For no one should ever touch what he decided, that very morning you asked how he had been, would belong to him.

AND EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE CONTINUED ON GOING SO SMOOTHLY... BUT THE DAAAAAAAAMN FINALS, ah, made their entrance.

You barely have time to sleep, to eat, to fucking breathe. Your levels of anxiety are higher than the HQ damn building and your brain is so overworked you cannot do more than what you're asked to in autopilot. You know that you're only going to be like this for approximately another two weeks, but your poor lover has suffered the last four days thinking you're sick, or sad, or worse... Mad at him. No, not in that order.

"Arañita..." He calls for you. Your hand moving over your notebook at one hundred km per hour concerns him.

"The reports are done. Peter from -5266 and Hugh from -1993 are out right now. They should be getting back at any minute. Anomaly #125 was sent to its original universe this morning." You push the tablet to him with your free hand without even looking up or slowing down your writing.

"Thank you, but..." He tilts his head, furrowing his brows. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I just need to get this done before four. By the way, can I leave early today? I need to study for tomorrow's test."

"Again? Didn't you have one yesterday?"

"Yes. We're on finals, Miguel. We tend to have a lot of them these days. That's why I'm losing my mind over here."

"Just for some tests?" You have to stop yourself to remind you it's not his fault to be smart. It's not his fault being more intelligent than almost every person you knew. It's not his fault he doesn't know what is to struggle on school. It's not his fault, It's not his fault, It's not his fault... "You haven't even touched your food." He says, looking at the little box he got you with the meal now cold.

"I... I know. I'm sorry, Mig." You sigh, looking up at him for the first time in the day. "I'm just really stressed out right now. But I promise I'll take it back home later, okay?"

This was also the fourth day you didn't stay at his place. My man doesn't want to be a burden, but he has attachment issues, ok?, and after the week you spent sleeping in his arms, it may or may not be that Miguel has been having trouble falling asleep without the weight of your body on his chest.

After watching you leave that day, Miguel found himself staying till unreasonable hours of the early morning working in the lab. There was no point on going back to his cold apartment anyway... And he had a lot of things to get done. He didn't have time to...

"Oh, it's you." Miguel jumps in his place at the sudden voice calling from behind. "I thought that poor girl had stayed here, with all the things she seems to be doing these days."

The man shakes his head, ignoring Jessica closing the distance behind him, leaning against the door frame. Miguel can almost make out the little smile on her lips without turning around, and that only infuriates him even more.

"And why do you look like a caged lion?" She mocks. "Trouble in paradise?"

Miguel's first instinct is snap back at her and ask her to leave him alone. He knows she would comply, what he doesn't know is how benefic that would be for his current situation.

"I don't know what's going out with her." He admits, letting his head fall in irritation. "She says she's having some tests right now, but she's just to... Stressed? I don't know. She's so smart I cannot conceive how bad this is affecting her." The laugh that emanates from Jessica's throat makes his ears go red. "What?"

"Oh, babe, when was the last time you went to college?" Jessica puts both of her hands on her waist, pursing the lips to avoid smiling again.

"Why is that important?"

"When, Miguel?" She demands.

"Ugh... I don't know. Like four-five years ago."

"When was the last time you failed a class?"

"Never." He immediately responds.

"When was the last time grades were important on your Earth?"

Miguel frowns. "I don't remember. The path for learning had changed long before I was born. I don't even think I ever had something like a grade. We were judged individually for our skills and our intelligence type. Not memorization."

"Exactly." She claps, pointing at him with a all-knowing finger. "Thanks to that you got the chance to develop your true abilities as a student, but our girl from 2023 it is not beneficiary of this privilege. She doesn't get the chance to strengthen in what she is good, she must memorize and memorize and memorize over and over again. Because the tests on her Earth aren't done with the purpose of just checking how is her knowledge progressing, they are done to see if she's worthy of continuing forward in her very career."

Miguel remains silent for a minute, swallowing all the new information by pieces. For someone so smart, Jessica has never see him seem so lost. The nuts in his brain begin to turn and turn until his eyes seem to light up with the clarity of the light of the new world.

"Hm." He nods. "Thank you."

The woman knows he doesn't need anything more when he turns around, typing into one of the screens something that escapes from her eyes.

During the rest of the two weeks of finals, Miguel tried to do his best to support you.

He even read all of the information about your education system, striving to understand everything in just a couple of nights.

He's a man on a mission: letting you know he's there, that you're strong and smart, and you can do it.

While you study in the lab, he leaves you be. He gets you coffee, or tea, or anything you prefer. He might even hiss at people entering his space (your space) making too much noise, pointing at you with his chin and threatening eyes.

"Hey, girl..." Peter B. comes in one morning, moving nervously under the scrutinizing gaze of your lover. "Don't be so harsh on yourself..." He gives you some awkward pats on the back, smiling. "You're doing great."

That was all it took.

"No, I'm not!" You weep, letting your head fall on the desk, shaking between sobs.

"Great. Ya la hiciste llorar." Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Here, give it to her." He calls for Peter's attention, handing him an specific chocolate.

Peter takes it with confused eyes, offering it to you, reaching out his arm as if he were to touch you, you'll explode.

"Here." He says. "Look what I got."

You raise your eyes, meeting the little packing. Then, when you look at him, Peter almost thinks he just made all worst.

"Oh, Peter... Thank you!" You take the chocolate, pulling from him to a big hug. "I love these so much, thank you! You're so kind!"

Peter lets you be, looking back at Miguel who just nods at him to let him know this wasn't his first rodeo. He pats your back, soothing you with some more nervous words until you're ready to let him go.

If you're really struggling, Miguel won't think twice to help you. He's smart, it takes him nothing more than a look to his old notes or a quick search on the internet (specially if you're studying something science related or an engineering, if you're on law or arts, oh boy, you're gonna make this man suffer) to know exactly what you need and make sure you're taking that fucking project tomorrow.

Some other days, he just catches you sleeping with your hands crossed above the table and your saliva drooling out to your notes. His jacket would then come over you, after, he would take your pending stuff and start solving problems and making notes for you to have it easier at the memorizing part of the study.

You always wake up to see the edges of your paper full of arrows, little equations and encircled key words. And, sometimes, a tired Miguel sleeping uncomfortably by your side, just waiting for you to tell him it's time to go.

The day, a Friday, where you're finally done with college (at least for a couple of months) Miguel felt it like the day his soul came back to his body.

You are smiling all day again, calling his name, doing a mess all over the whole building. And he can not be more happy about it.

He might never tell you, me might even justify himself saying he had been staying up late working in the lab every time you ask for the bags under his eyes. Because he's definitely not telling you there were nights where he couldn't even close his eyes 'cause you weren't there with him.

"Time to go home." You hum behind him, getting all of your stuff inside your backpack.

"Thank God" He rubs his neck, walking closer to you to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. "I'm dying."

You yawn, nodding. "Me too. These weeks drained me."

"Me too." He repeats, and you don't know how much he means it. "Let's just go to sleep, yeah? Hopefully tomorrow there won't be so much to do."

You smile, leaning into his embrace as you walk out the door, hearing the lights turning off as both come closer and closer to the exit.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay."

Miguel steadies your body by pressing down on your hips, keeping your ass on the bed. You try to push his face out of between your thighs but he refuses to pull apart.

"Miguel!" You cry out, tears rolling down your cheeks cause of the overstimulation he was putting you in. "Too much, too much..."

His fingers curl inside you one more time, and your arch your back, almost rolling your eyes at the feeling. His tongue flicks over your sensitive bud again, dragging choked moans out of you. You try to squirm away but his hands pull you from your ass back at him as soon as you start moving.

"Easy there, Arañita. I'm almost done." He smiles up at you, letting you see the lower half of his face completely covered in your arousal.

"Mig... Mi amor..." You breath out, trying to push him out again when his chuckle crashes against your folds.

"One more, love, and you'll be ready for me." He sucks on your clit as he speaks, moving his fingers with an slower pace now. "Uno más, mamita, dame uno más."

He pushes his face down on you, working his tongue all around your most needy spot with his digits burying now deep inside you, hitting that soft place between your walls that makes you want to cry. You're a mess of moans and whimpers by now, but when his teeth slowly press on your clit, it's over for you. Your eyes roll back, your thighs tremble around him, encaging him in his favorite prison as he guides you through it, moaning into your skin when he feels your pleasure dripping on him, motivating his hips to hump against the mattress as a fucking teenager would do.

After you get down from your high, you look up at him to find him positioning himself between your legs, dragging the tip of his cock up and down on your folds.

"Miguel, wait, I'm..."

"You know your safe word, mamita, you can make me stop whenever you want." He places your legs on his shoulders and his hands on your hips, keeping you just as he wishes to. "I'm going in, and I want your eyes on me all the time I fuck you, ¿me entiendes, hermosa?"

You nod, watching the point where both of your bodies would join. He enters slowly, giving you time to adjust his size. But after the first hint of your hips trying to feel him even more, he pulls back and thrusts all the way in, making your head fall back as your back arches.

His right hand grabs you by the jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and observe how red his irises had turned.

"Eyes on me."

His pace speeds up, bottoming out with every thrust he makes. Your hands push at his lower abdomen, biting your lip to avoid crying out loud again.

"Too fast, Mig. Too much." You moan, your still overstimulated clit rips another whimper from you every time his happy trail and trimmed hair crashes against it. You were barely holding on, but your lover can't never get enough. His body reaches down, and as he places one hand around your neck, his other thumb toys at your clit in a excruciating pace. "Fuck! No, Miguel."

You tremble under him, wrapping your legs around his waist when you cannot think about anything more than cumming. Your nails bury on the skin of his back, dragging an out of breath grunt out of him.

"I'm, I'm cum-" You try to voice but nothing in your brain seems to work anymore.

"Do it, love. I got you." He keeps up his pace, almost kissing your cervix by now. "Cum for me, mi amor."

His hand squeezes a little bit harder on your neck and you need nothing else to see fucking white. Your mouth opens in a big O before your start trembling, shaking uncontrollably under his body, letting out the sweetest of sounds for him to hear.

He grunts, falling into the crock of your neck when you tighten your walls around him.

"I'm going to fucking fill you." He's out of breath and he curses something in Spanish you cannot make out. "I'm going to put a baby on your tummy, mamita..."

"Miguel..." You were on the verge of tears again, you cannot longer feel your legs but you surely can feel him deep inside you.

"Yes, love. Fuck... I'm cumming. I'm..." He bites down on your flesh, sinking his fangs into your skin when his hips stutter. His talons grow so big they dig into the headboard.

You moan at the feeling, hugging your body to his until he can breath normal again.

When he looks back at you his eyes have returned to that soft brown you're used too.

"Are you okay?" He asks, sending shivers down your spine when he caresses the sore skin.

"Yes." You smile and he traps your lips into a kiss. "And now I'm really fucking tired."

He chuckles, lifting his weight onto his forearms.

"Come here, amor. Let's take a shower so you can rest comfortably." He places another soft peck on your forehead. "I'll wash your hair."

You definitely know he will do more than that.

PD: Tbh with you guys, all I could think about while writing this was this tiktok:

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara fluff #miguel ohara smut #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #atsv #peter b parker

9K notes · View notes

bedsyandco · 23 days

Note

⇴ "i only want to see you right now. i really miss you." and person a is like "you just saw me yesterday"

With Lando Norris

ᯓ⌕ 𝐈 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 — 𝐋𝐍𝟒 ༉‧₊

pairing: fem!bsf!reader x lando norris

summary: in which lando always misses his best friend (you) terribly when he travels as much as he does. so when you travel with him to the Chinese GP, he couldn’t be happier to have you by his side. However when you spend a few hours with Lily when lando and alex are busy with meetings, he can’t help but feel a bit of separation anxiety settle in.

content: just some fluff!

note: my first time writing for lando!! the friends to lovers trope just never gets old and thus I shall never stop writing it.

lando was laying on his hotel bed, debating whether or not he should get up and retrieve the TV remote. he knew he wasn’t going to pay much attention anyway. his mind was elsewhere. specifically on that old brown clock on the wall, the obnoxious sound of tik-tik-tik making him hyper aware of every second that passes. every second that he was stuck in that hotel room and you were somewhere else without him.

he wasn’t stuck exactly. it’s not like he’s a prisoner that couldn’t go anywhere, he could very well call or text you, find out where you and lily have wandered off to and join the two of you. or simply snatch you away and bring you back here.

lando would like to say that he wasn’t usually this selfish with you, but that would be a lie. ever since he met you at that one karting event, lando’s been jealous of anyone else who gets to spend time with you.

he still remembers the day he met you like it was yesterday. it was just during the time period when lando began to really get into karting, he was maybe six or seven. he was good at it too, relishing in taking the number one spot on the make shift podium every time. and that was the case that particular weekend as well, although from the way everyone seemed to flock to you afterwards, you wouldn’t have been able to tell who won.

lando was really annoyed by it, making assumptions in his anger that maybe they only focused so much on you because you were the only girl, but later he would learn that it wasn’t the case. people flocked to you simply because you were… you.

lando wasn’t immune to it either because by the third time you guys raced each other, you had become best of friends. and even years later when your interest had gone beyond the race track and lando’s passion for it only intensified, you had still remained close.

therefore it wasn’t a foreign concept for lando not see you often. he was travelling most of the year, rarely in one country for more than a couple weeks at a time. and he knew how serious you were about your studies and now your job, you weren’t going to follow him around like a lost puppy, although he had tried to convince you more than once already.

on the rare occasion that you did fly out and visited him, he wanted every minute of your time to be spent with him, which is why he’s a little pouty that his meeting stretched long today and you had decided to occupy your time by going to explore the city with lily.

lando was aware that his mindset was a tad bit childish, but he hadn’t seen you all day and that justifies —

his thoughts get halted by a beep in the door, followed by the prettiest girl he’s ever seen making her way into his room. lando moves so fast he almost trips multiple times on the way to you. he’s sure he’s mimicking an over excited puppy. who’s been waiting all day for their owner to come home (as he has been) and getting excited and flocking to them as soon as they walk through the door (as he did) and then following and clinging to them for an ounce of attention (as he’s about to)

“hi lan,” you greet him, putting your shopping bags down against the wall and removing your jacket, hanging it behind the door

he doesn’t respond verbally, instead just wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you towards the bed.

“lan,” you giggle as he falls on top of the bed, pulling you with him. he tightens his arms around you and rests his head on your chest sighing constantly as your hands run through his hair

“lily asked if we wanted to go to dinner with her and alex tonight. I said I’d hear what your plans are first,” you say

“no. I’m not in the mood for other people. I only wanna see you right now. I really missed you.” lando says and you laugh softly

“you just saw me yesterday,” you say softly and lando purses his lips, resting his chin on your chest to look at you

“so? am I not allowed to miss you? are you saying you didn’t miss me?” lando asks, gasping in mock hurt and you laugh

“no I did. I always miss you. cause my best friend just had to go and choose one of the jobs where he’s rarely home and I barely get to see him,” you say dramatically, a smile on your face but it quickly fades when you see the solemn expression on lando’s face

“what’s wrong?” you ask, gently caressing his cheek and he leans into your hand

“nothing,” he replies but you give him a look and he sighs before saying, “I just wonder if it’s worth it sometimes. all the travelling, the never being home, the missing out on seeing my niece grow up. all the things I could’ve had by now,” lando says, looking at you as if he wanted to add to it but he’s holding back.

“what things? lan racing is all you’ve ever wanted to do. it’s your dream. your passion. it’s everything to you-“

“well maybe it shouldn’t be. maybe I wanna prioritize my personal life too. and maybe I wanna see you more than just three times a year,” lando says and your heart squeezes at the longing look on his face

“maybe I wanna stop being scared and tell the girl I’ve been in love with my life that I can’t go three hours without seeing her, let alone three months,” lando says, playing the the strings of his hoodie, vulnerability shining through

“you never said anything,” you reply, your heart beating so loud in your chest you can hear it in your ears

“cause it’s selfish. what can I offer you? I travel all the time. I’m barely home. I won’t be able to be there for you in the same capacity you’re there for me. and it would be unfair to ask you to travel with me all the time. it’s just unfair, and I won’t do it to you. but the idea of giving up racing…”

“is utterly ridiculous and you would be so unhappy,” you say and lando lets out a soft laugh. his heart swelling at the fact you know him that well

“yeah,” he agrees. furrow between his brows as he lets out a sigh

“the thing about racing is that there are so many things out of your control lan. and relying on that for your happiness is setting yourself up for failure,” you say

“well… there are certain things I can control,” lando says, looking at your lips briefly before lowering his head to yours, your lips connecting in a soft kiss that sparks butterflies in your stomach

“should’ve done that a long time ago,” lando says softly and the grin on your face mirrors his

“do it again,” you say and he laughs softly, pressing his lips to yours once more

lando knows in a few days he’s gonna have to miss you all over again, but as long as he gets to come home to you at the end of the day, everything’s gonna be okay.

— 💬 I loved writing Lando way more than I thought I would!! thank you so much for requesting and celebrating 1.8K with me nonnie!! I hope you liked it <3

#⊹ ࣪ ˖ cami’s celebrates — 1.8k ⟢#lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fluff #lando norris blurb #lando norris fic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris

1K notes · View notes

reiderwriter · 2 months

Note

Okay so I have a small req (Honestly this is more of an hc than anything-but I need to share cuz vshvskhbjks) I feel like Spencer is genuinely so perverted when it comes to his girlfriend??? like if you leave your panties lying around he IS swiping them and he is not ashamed like...he may not do much in public but in private he will grab a handful of your ass or tits when he can like.....In the early seasons, I feel like he'd be a little ashamed but s13+? hell no, especially when it comes to him getting caught being a lil perv gfkjk (FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS IF IT ISN'T YOUR CUP OF TEA!!!!)

A/N; Gave this one some ✨️angst✨️ just because I could, but YES TO PERVERTED SPENCER!! YES INDEED!!

Summary; You get to know your coworker well after a decade on the job. You get to know just how much he loves to touch you and just how much you enjoy his hands on you as well. But after prison, something is changed in Spencer Reid.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ Minors DNI. Masturbation (M, F), oral sex (F), hand job, mentions of somewhat public indecency, groping, grinding, etc, unprotected sex, PinV, creampie, dirty talk.

Spencer Reid had always been a pervert, and it took you six long, quiet months to figure that out.

When you'd joined the BAU after years of begging for a chance, you were a team expecting field-hardened agents, and for the most part, that's what you'd got. Hotchner was as bureaucratic as they came, Rossi had been at the institution as long as the concept of the BAU had, and the others had some serious qualifications to their names.

But Spencer Reid was the outlier. He was a bit timid in front of the others, always seemed to put his foot in his mouth when it mattered most and seemed to be patronized around the office a bit until it came to his intellect.

And you didn't quite know how to act around him until you got to know him very, very well.

A case in some state or the other had called for emergency motel rooms, unfortunate as some Nascar show or the other was rapidly filling up hotel room spaces everywhere. So, as the two youngest members of the team (and by far the most eager to please), you'd ended up rooming together in a double twin room.

“So, Spencer, what do you do at night to wind down? Relax after a case?” The motel door had swung shut loudly behind you an awkward three minutes before you started the conversation, and you needed something to break the awkward tension in the room.

“I… read, I guess?”

“You're always reading. What book is it today? Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy? Maybe Dickens?”

In response, he'd just awkwardly held up the book cover for a minute, leaving you to nod and let the conversation peter out. It wasn't the first time one of your conversations with him died out due to a mutual lack of skill, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Giving in, you grabbed your bag and headed for the small bathroom, a strategic retreat to pass the time without having to acknowledge that the teams resident genius was ignoring you.

Because he definitely was.

You'd been on the team for six months, and you couldn't quite figure out why he'd never so much as asked you how your day was. He'd be jovially talking with one agent or the other and would clam up as soon as you joined into the fray.

Spencer Reid was stuck in his shell, you'd been told. He was someone who didn't open up very easily, especially after his first few, very rough years in the BAU.

You let each concern roll off your back as you showered and cleaned yourself up after a day of dumpster diving for clues. Your next aim was getting out of the shower, dried, and into bed before you felt the weight of his disinterest in you settle any heavier.

“Hey I'm all done now, and I'm gonna hit the hay, so bathrooms all yours.”

“Thanks,” he said and immediately strode in, shutting the door behind him without another word.

You wished you could shake the man. You weren't exactly used to being so pointedly avoided by a peer, and it was honestly making you feel rather indignant. You wanted to grab his attention and hold it any way you could, so much so that your palms started itching.

The sounds of Spencer's shower interrupted your attempts to rest, so you set about organizing your things instead. Folding your shirts, you placed them in your go bag, taking inventory on how many fresh outfits you had left and how much laundry you'd have left to do when the case ended.

It could've been the haze of sleep, or perhaps just an early warning bell, but no matter how many times you counted, you always came up short by one pair of panties. It took another minute of blinking out the sleep in your eyes, becoming suddenly alert again, that you realized it was the pair of panties you'd been wearing before your shower.

“Fuck,” you sighed, trying to fill the deep pit of embarrassment opening in your stomach before it swallowed you from the inside out. “Fuck.”

When in doubt, you found it best to curse at least twice.

And just like that your coherent thoughts went out the window - a morning, afternoon and evening doing manual labor under the guise of a nice desk job would do that to any girl - and you found yourself opening the door to the bathroom without knocking first or even remembering Spencer Reid's presence in the room at all.

He froze in shock as you came face to face with him, shirt and pants open, his long cock in his hands and his face flushed with erotic shock as he rubbed up and down the length of his cock.

“Shit, fuck, Spencer I'm sorry I was- are those my panties?”

Rather unabashedly, your eyes hadn't left his crotch as he froze in fear at your intrusion.

“I'm not a pervert!” He shouted, still unable to let his dick go, so close to bliss as he was.

“You're madturbating into my panties, Spencer. What other label would you put on that?”

“You're really hot. It's hard to ignore. I don't usually do this, but they were in here on the floor, and I thought about taking them back out to you, but then you'd think I was a pervert for touching your underwear and then I imagined you thanking me and putting them back on right in front of me and my cock was so hard and you said you were going to sleep. Did you know most men masturbate eight times a week on average? Me doing this once while sharing a room with you for a week isn't statistically …that …bad. Why are you doing that?”

You'd been done listening halfway through and had somehow found yourself sinking to your knees. He'd rested his body against the bathroom sink, so you organized yourself in front of him, staring up at him innocently as you wrapped your fingers around his hand.

“I want to see what it was you were doing with my panties, Spencer,” You moved his hand up and down his length, slowly dragging the lacy material across each inch. “Please let me see.”

The empty shower kept flowing and the room was thick with steam as you kept up a steady pace rubbing up and downs Spencer's cock.

A sense of achievement hit you with each moan and gasp he let out. Every time his hips thrust up into your hand, each time his hand stroked your hair in thanks for your copious attention.

You'd finally gotten through to Spencer Reid in a way that you were about to make sure was mutually beneficial.

His moans got louder and harder to conceal with a bite of the lip as he got closer to cumming. He really was a pervert, letting his coworker jerk him off in a motel bathroom while on a case. He was practically begging for release.

“Cum for me Spencer. Make my face pretty, please please please.”

His eyes shot open wide as you stuck your tongue out, just in time to taste his cum on your lips. A few stray ropes hit your chin and cheek as well, with the majority staining the panties you'd come in to search for.

“Thank you, Spencer,” You giggled, wiping away his cum and standing yourself up to come face to face with him.

“Y/N, it won't-” You cut him off with a kiss that he eagerly returned hands, falling all over your body in his haste to feel every part of you. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he was a cartographer mapping out its caverns, desperate to learn each soft caress you returned off by heart.

“If you were about to say it won't happen again, I suggest you think again, Spencer. I want this to happen again. Regularly.”

You shut off the shower and turned on your heel, walking back out to the bedroom and out of the heat for a few minutes.

“You want to jerk me off?”

“Yes.”

“And I'm the pervert?”

“You were using my panties and your hand like a fleshlight, Spencer. Yes, you are a pervert.”

“I'm a pervert but you still want to jerk me off?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

That's how it began. Your decade-long escapade with Spencer Reid. It wasn't that you dated. He was still unsure about how to approach you for another few months after that, but there was nothing like the relaxation of a few orgasms to really help you warm up to somebody.

For the first few years, a case didn't pass without one of you slipping into the others motel room for some late night entertainment.

You knew just how deep his fingers could hit inside you after only two weeks. You became obsessed with how well his cock could stretch you out, how his hands would gently rub around your clit in circles while you bounced up and down on his length. How he watched your breasts bounce with untold wonder in his eyes.

You most of all loved that his tongue was as eager to taste you as you had been that very first time to taste his cum.

Half the times he let himself into your room, he'd satisfy himself by eating you out lazily for hours on end, making you moan his name while you came on his fingers and tongue. Every flash of violet that he caught a glimpse of - that first pair of panties - drove him crazy.

Motels and hotels and once the back seat of an SUV after a long drive became your time to get closer to your coworker. You never once thought of bringing this physical relationship home with you, though, and it wasn't a continuous thing.

You'd had to take it easy when he got shot in the leg, not wanting to hurt him anymore. And again, when he'd gotten shot in the neck, though a few times he'd begged you to close his hospital door and help him out still.

And you'd both distanced yourself after Emily's death and miraculous resurrection. Surprisingly enough, you'd found your heart slightly twisted when he'd begged the team for help rescuing his girlfriend from a stalker.

But you always found your way back in his bed with his tongue pressed against yours and his cock buried as deep into you as far as it could go. In the decade you'd been sleeping with the secretly perverted and somewhat insatiable Spencer Reid you'd never gone longer than three months without his body in your bed.

Until he went to prison.

The weight of your grief at losing him was unparalleled. You'd been heartbroken when Emily had died, but it paled in comparison to the thought of his isolation. Penelope had to remind you to eat, Luke had to engage you in conversation to keep you talking.

Emily slipped a spare key to Reid's apartment to you somewhere around the three week mark, and you'd let yourself into a place you'd only ever heard described. You slept in his bed to feel his scent wrapped around you, touched yourself there to remind yourself that you were just feeling the loss of a sexual partner and friend and nothing more. It was lust and sexual frustration driving your depression. That was all.

Spencer came out different. Everyone did. On the surface, he was still kind, still a little bit nerdy, and he still wasn't the best at reading social cues, but there was an intensity to him that wasn't there before.

On cases, he'd wrap a hand around your waist and push a hand just slightly under your shirt while you introduced yourself to local detectives. He'd hug you at the end of every work day, breathing in your scent and telling you how tired he was.

His hand would firmly cover your thigh and not move the entire duration of any car ride, team dinner or family event, and he'd kiss the back of your neck and grope your breasts each and every elevator ride you took alone together.

Spencer Reid hadn't been able to keep his hands off of you for six whole months, and yet he hadn't actually touched you.

Every time you'd knocked on his motel door, he'd not opened it, and he hadn't once come to yours.

You'd expected him every day for a week after he'd first gotten out and had even explicitly told him so. You texted your address, invited him over, and sent him pictures of you in those infernal panties that you really didn't wear that often anymore.

He desired you still, you knew enough from brushing past him and feeling his semi push against your ass, you knew in every hug where he touched you just enough to know he wanted more but still had the control to pull away.

You knew that he only kissed your neck, because if he kissed your lips his tongue would wander all the way to your cunt and he'd be on his knees between yours making you scream his name in pleasure.

Spencer Reid wanted to avoid you, but he still wanted you, and after six months of celibacy you were tired of waiting around for him to finally crack.

Emily had never asked for the spare key back. With 10 years of dalliances under your belt, you were sure the entire office had caught on, if not before prison, then certainly after his hands took possession of your body after his release. She wasn't going to ask for the key back because that was like asking a question she probably would sleep better without having the answer to.

Spencer started his professorial work, and you finished some nights before he could manage the commute home, so it was easy to let yourself into his apartment for the confrontation.

When Spencer finally turned his key in the lock, he found you there on your knees on the floor in a matching violet set of lingerie. Not your originals, but certainly close enough - smaller, though.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?”

“I'm just sitting here in my underwear for fun, Spencer. You should try it sometime.”

He frowned at your sarcastic reply but stepped closer to you, topping your head up to meet his gaze with a quick flick of his finger.

“I mean it, Y/N. Why are you here?”

“I…I want you to touch me again.”

“I touch you plenty, Y/N. I touch you here,” he traced your lips.

“And here.” His fingers fell to your neck, sweeping some hair off your shoulders.

“And a lot here, too.” He cupped one breast in his hand and gave it a squeeze, and you let your head rest against his thigh as he slipped a finger into your bralette.

“I want you to touch me more, Spencer.”

“How? How should I touch you? Be a little pervert for me and tell me, Y/N?”

Your breathing faltered for a second as he pinched your nipple and you bit your lip before you told him exactly what he wanted to hear.

“I want to feel your dick buried deep in my pussy. I want to cum on your tongue. I want you to stretch me out with your fingers and I want you to fill me up with your cum. Please, Spencer, I miss you so much.”

He said nothing but withdrew his hand from your chest and distanced himself slightly, turning his face away from you.

“Spencer, please, what's wrong? Did I do something-”

“Do you miss me? Or do you miss fucking me?” The words would regularly send you into an indignant stomp, and part of you was still begging you to let out a shout of “what the hell is that supposed to mean.”

But Spencer was frozen still in the doorway of his house, almost statuesque as a melancholic look overwhelmed his features.

Your courage drained your body as you stood up and pulled the shirt you'd earlier discarded back on.

“Spencer? Look at me, please.”

He did reluctantly, and that blank expression still filled his eyes with gloom.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him to the couch, sitting him down and wrapping yourself around him.

You say there, head pressed into his neck, legs straddling him as his arms slowly came up to pulling you back in. Your heart beat harder by the second, and you counted down the minutes as you worked up courage.

“I missed you so much I drove myself insane. I had to sleep here for a week straight after they told me you were put in solitary. Every day, I thought of your hands on my body and how much I missed seeing your fingers flipping through a book on the jet. I missed asking you what you were reading, and I missed convincing you to put the book down.”

You pulled your head up to meet his gaze and slowly let your mouth fall to his lips. It was slow, soft. An innocent peck in the context of your usual caresses. It spoke the words I miss you more effectively than your voice could, and neither of you seemed to want to part from the warm embrace.

“I missed you, Spencer Reid.” You spoke, cutting off your kiss as you grew more impassioned by his touch, breathing harder and speaking faster and faster now as you kept on.

“I missed you when you came back because you kept your hands on me. You let yourself enjoy my body in public but wouldn't let me share your bed in private. You hugged me, but you wouldn't let me hold you, and you have not once spoken about how you feel, you have not once told me that you are okay now or that you are not okay and you need my shoulder to cry on.”

He was silent until your tears sprung forth, and then he was everywhere around you, kissing the drops from your face, shushing you and whispering words of encouragement and thanks and love into your ears while he placated your breaking heart.

Because somehow you fell in love with the pervert who stole your panties and now you were sitting in a room with a mostly broken man, begging him to use you to feel whole again.

“I love you, Spencer. Please, please let me touch you.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered against your lips, hands finding your hips again as he finally pushed his tongue into your mouth.

His nails bit into the skin at your thighs as he forced you not to move, instead grinding up into you after another heated kiss.

“It was hard, but you kept me going. Memories of you, your mouth, your scent your wet cunt wrapped around my cock, you kept me alive in that place.” He worked you up with each dirty confession as his hands pushed the shirt back off your shoulders and bared the lingerie to him once again.

“Then I was out, and you were still the same as I remembered, but I was different, and I needed more from you. But I couldn't take more, and I didn't want to ask you to give more because I could not beg one more person to love me.”

“You don't have to beg, Spencer, I love you already, I love you I love you I love you.”

“Y/N, you don't understand. I am completely enamoured with you. I want to possess you, I want to keep you in my room, I want to have a hand on you at all times. I want to put a bullet in any man who looks at you because you are mine. I'm not a pervert, I'm a monster, and I'm going to hurt you.”

“Possess me, hurt me, keep me, Spencer, do whatever you want to me, I will let you. Just please don't leave me.”

Your teeth clicked together in his haste to recapture your lips again, his cock hard and already sprung from his pants thanks to two pairs of quick working hands.

He pushed aside your panties, and he was inside you, pressed to the hilt recapturing the place that was home to him.

“You picked this color for me. You wanted me to lose control and fuck you and you got what you wanted,” he whispered in your ear as you locked your ankles together behind his back.

“I did.”

“Good. I'm going to rip them shred by shred from your body so nobody else can see you acting like such a desperate wet cunt ever again.”

You let out a gasp at his words, and his tongue dropped back down your throat as he rutted into you ferociously.

“Spencer, yes, fuck me. FUCK!”

Your hips met his in a furious clash, his hand making their way around to your butt cheek as he aided your thrusting, pulling you up and down the length of his cock.

“That's it, look at your boobs bouncing for me, sweetheart. Your body knows when it's being fucked right, it knows when I'm here, and I'm the only one who can make you feel this good, right baby?”

“Yes, Spencer. Yes!”

His hand came back up to your clit as you met his hips more enthusiastically than before, fucking yourself on the length of him.

“You're going to cum on my cock. Show me how much you missed me, missed this.”

“So much, missed you so much, Spence….need your cum inside me, fill me up Spencer, please."

It took both of you only a few more desperate thrusts to reach the climax you'd waited half a year for. You convulsed on his dick, shuddering underneath him as he filled you with rope after rope of cum.

But when you had both caught your breath, you still didn't let go, still holding on to him desperately as of he'd vanidj in another second despite your confessions.

“Y/N…” he cooked into your ear as you buried your face in his chest again. “Y/N, we need to get you to bed.”

“I'm not leaving.”

“No, you're not. But you're not sleeping on my couch either.”

You pulled away just enough to watch his face as he dipped down for another sweetly chaste kiss.

Lifting himself up, and pulling his cock out of you, you whimpered a little at the loss of his warmth, but after rearranging himself in his pants, he pulled you up next to him and wrapped his arms around you in a bear hug as he slowly walked you back towards his bedroom.

“You really slept at my apartment?”

“I slept in your bed. I'm sorry, I know it was overstepping, but you were gone and I-”

“Missed me, I know.” His hands traced your spine again before cupping around your bare ass and hooking it under to touch your soaked cunt.

“How much did you miss me, Y/N? How did you spend your nights here?” His fingers once again hooked under the panties, but instead of pulling them to the side, he quickly pulled at the seams, and you heard a ripping sound aa his eyes demanded the answer to your question.

“Close the door, and I'll shoe you exactly what I did here, Spencer. I'll show you everything.’

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n

2K notes · View notes

beingsuneone · 6 months

Text

I BET You Think About Me

SYNOPSIS: being Theo’s girlfriend is a dream… until you find out why he asked you out in the first place.

FANDOM: Harry Potter

PAIRING(S): Theodore Nott x fem!reader

RATING: PG

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Enzo, Blaise, Draco, Mattheo, Pansy, Snape

GENRE/AU: Snape’s Daughter!Reader, Asks you out cause of a bet, kind of angsty, kind of fluffy, slytherin!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.6K

WARNINGS: swearing and kissing.

A/N: agh. It’s 3 in the morning. Enjoy. May have a tiny bit of pacing issues but it’s fine

DEDICATIONS: the polls who decided they wanted Theo while I decided I was gonna post Mattheo and Rhysand instead.

CREDITS: n/a

…Six Months Ago….

——————————————————————————

“You can’t do it, Theo.” Draco says plainly. “If she’s anything like her father she won’t be able to feel that kind of emotion.”

Theo shakes his head. “She’s still a girl.”

Mattheo snorts, Enzo sputters. “That’s a bit sexist, Theo.” Enzo says, looking over at Y/n L/n.

She’s Severus Snape’s daughter and completely untouchable. Theo hasn’t seen a single guy going out with her in the whole six years they’d been at hogwarts.

That might be because of her father.

“Draco’s right.” Mattheo says. “She’ll never fall for you.”

“I’m gonna prove you guys wrong and you’re gonna owe me a shit ton of money for it.”

…. One Month Ago ….

——————————————————————————

Mattheo stares at you as you walks away. “Damn, I guess you were right.” Both him and Draco reach for their wallets but Theo waves them off.

“I don’t want it— any of it.” It felt for him wrong to take the money from the bet. Theo had fallen for you just as hard— if not harder— as you’d fallen for him.

Hell, Theo would kiss the ground you walked on if you asked him.

“What do you mean?” Blaise asks incredulously. “You won the bet.”

Theo furrows his eyebrows. “Whatever, I don’t want the money.”

They all stare at him.

One, two, three minutes of silence before Mattheo blurts out: “Oh my god. Theo fell for her.” He starts to laugh, and the other boy's eyes widen.

“Wow. That’s a little bit pathetic, Theo.” Draco teases.

Pansy slides in beside Blaise. “Wow. Famous playboy Theodore Nott fell for someone?” She snickers. “Who?”

Theo deadpans. “What do you mean who?” You are Pansy’s roommate after all, Pansy should better than anybody.

Her face falls. “You don’t mean y/n. do you?” Theo nods and she gives him an exasperated look. “Theo! You literally only dated her to win a bet!”

“Yeah, I know!” He retorts. A beat of silence, then, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You have to tell her.” Enzo cuts in. “If you truly like her, it isn’t something you can keep secret.”

Theo nods his head absentmindedly. “I know, I know. I’ll tell her soon.”

He didn’t want his new relationship to end before it ever began.

….Present….

——————————————————————————

Today, you woke up late, stubbed your toe on your bed and then spent the ten minutes you had to get ready looking for your damned potions book.

When you’d finally found it, threw on your uniform and got your hair into some sort of presentable, you rushed out your dorm and down the hallways as fast as your feet would take you.

Your class was on the opposite side of Hogwarts and you were already ten minutes late.

In your haste, you aren’t watching for other people in front of you and run straight into someone.

“I’m so sorry!” You exclaim frantically, picking up your books as she picks up hers.

She looks familiar but you don’t know her name.

“No, it’s okay— Oh.” Her faces twists into a scowl when she meets your gaze. “You’re Theo’s ‘Girlfriend’” she airquotes as she says ‘girlfriend’, causing you to narrow your eyes at here.

You furrow your eyebrows. “Uhm, yeah, I am. Why did you say it like that?”

She crosses her arms. “Because you and I both know that he doesn’t actually like you. You’re not his girlfriend.”

“And who, exactly, are you?” You ask, annoyance settling in your chest.

She looks down at you, a cocky expression written on her face. “You should probably just stay away from him, you know that, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really, he’s going to be mine so I don’t even know what you’re doing.” She waves you off, as if she truly believes this.

You shuffle your books around in your arms and shift your weight into your other leg. “You do know that you’re not his girlfriend, right?”

“Whatever.” She shrugs, and you still don’t know her name. “Doesn’t matter if he calls you his girlfriend, it’s not like you’re a threat anyway.”

What does she mean ‘not a threat’? You feel like that’s a sentence better used to describe her considering, you’re Theo’s actual girlfriend. “What is that supposed to mean?” You ask incredulously but still relatively calm.

She gives you a mock sympathetic expression. “Oh, Sweetheart,” She starts, taunting you with each syllable. “You didn’t really think someone like Theo would settle down for someone like you… do you? I mean, he’s all parties and good times and you’re… well, you can’t even dress yourself properly.”

She looks you up and down, from your half-untucked uniform shirt to your loose tie and your unwrinkled skirt. You’re not usually this messed up. “Clearly, I do, because he did.” You pause, sigh deeply and roll your eyes. “Why am I even entertaining this conversation?” You turn away from her, preparing to tune her out and walk away.

She tuts, shaking her head. “Because you obviously know you mean nothing to him— after all when your relationship starts with a bet, I don’t think it’s ever been super stable.”

This makes you stop and turn back to her. “A bet?” You say it slowly and the words taste awful on your tongue. “What bet?”

She scoffs-laughs and smiles evilly. “Oops, did I say too much?”

Theo chooses this moment to walk up behind the two of your . He slides his hand around my waist, letting it rest there as he stands beside me. “Are you okay? You’re super late.” He asks, looking you over. His eyes flit over to the girl who was talking to you and his nose scrunched. “Why are you talking to Tracey?”

Tracey, that’s her name.

I don’t think he likes her too much.

Tracey opens her mouth to respond but I cut her off and begin dragging Theo away. “I don’t even know, Theo, let’s go.”

I can feel Tracey’s glare until we’re well out of her line of sight.

Jealous.

……

You can’t get Tracey’s words out of your head. You know it was a tactic to rile you up and, you suppose, it worked but you had this horrible feeling that maybe she wasn’t lying.

Asking Theo about it though? That was hard; you didn’t want him to think you didn’t trust him but you also didn’t want to get upset before you knew whether it was true or not.

You decided to ask one or two other people before Theo. Pansy Parkinson, was first. She’s been your friend since first year but she hung out with Theo’s group long before you ever did.

“Hey, Pansy.” You say airily. She looks up at you and smiles.

The bed creaks as you fall down onto it and sigh. “Can I ask you a random question?” You ask, fidgeting with the corner of your blankets.

She looks up at you expectantly but also with a good deal of worry. “Yeah, of course; What’s up?”

She shifts in her spot at the end of her bed, turning her full attention to me.

“Did you ever… I don’t know,” you stop, trying to find the correct words. “Did you ever hear anything about Me, Theo and a bet? While you were, like, hanging out with them.”

Pansy looks down at your fidgeting fingers and then furrows her eyebrows. She thinks about it for a minute, and her face drops so slightly I almost don’t catch it. “Oh, y/n…” she trails off. “He didn’t tell you?”

Every muscle in your body locks up. “He didn’t tell me what?” You don’t think you really want the confirmation now that you know it’s coming.

Pansy stands and then sits down next to you and pulls you into her in a side hug. “When Theo started trying to get with you it was because of a bet.” She stops but you just gesture for her to continue. “… I wasn’t actively apart of this conversation so I only got the gist of it but I was there.”

“What was the bet.” You say, with your eyes hot and your throat restricted. Your tone makes it seem like it wasn’t a question.

“The boys bet him that he couldn’t make the next woman he saw fall in love with him by the end of the year.” She gives your a sad smile. “I guess the next woman was you.”

What. The. Fuck. You’re gonna kill him, because he obviously won that goddamn bet already. You give Pansy a quick squeeze and then stand up. “I need to go talk to him.”

Pansy nods and walks back to her own bed, waving bye as you walk through the door.

Your vision is a bit blurry and your hands are shaking with betrayal and anger as you storm away from the girl’s dorms and right through the common room to the boy’s dorms.

When you reach his door, you knock loudly, despite it being late.

Draco answers. He looks you up and down and then turns his back halfway to you. “Theo, your girlfriend is here.”

Theo appears a moment later, an easy smile and his piercing eyes that you want to love so badly right now. He gently moves you back a bit and steps out of the dorm. “Hey, Baby, what’s up?”

You shudder at the pet name and his face drops. “Oh, I don’t know, Theo.”

He pulls you to the other side of the hall and keeps his hands on your arms, comforting both yourself and him. “What’s wrong? Did somebody do something to you?”

The worry on his face seems so genuine, you almost want to believe the bet was a lie— but you’re not that stupid.

“Yeah, Theo, someone hurt me.” You pause. “It was you and your fucking bet.”

He freezes. “Shit. Who told you about that?”

You don’t want to— no, you can’t look in his eyes. “That girl, Tracey, and then Pansy filled in the finer details.” You’re arms are crossed now and he can’t hold you like he was before. “Is that seriously the only thing you care about right now— actually, obviously it would be because I’m just a bet, right?”

He opens his mouth to speak but you don’t let him. “Actually,” you continue. “I don’t want to hear it— just, have a good life, Theo. I’d say we’re over but I don’t think we really ever started to begin with.”

You walk away before you second-guess yourself and ignore as he calls your name. He doesn’t run after you, which you’re equally glad for and disappointed by.

God, you don’t think your heart has ever hurt this bad.

…..

You haven’t seen Theo in class for the whole week after you ‘broke up’; you’ve seen glimpses of him outside, always smoking, or eating in the Great Hall but it’s like he’s intentionally missing every class you have together.

He probably is.

He shouldn't have that right. You’re the one who gets to avoid him, he doesn’t get to avoid you.

You’re the one who got played like a violin and ended up battered and bruised.

You don’t see him for most of your days, but, when you do— when you look at him, his eyes are always already on you.

As a result the other Slytherin boys glance at you while he stares, because of how intensely he does so. You can feel his eyes burning holes into you at all times.

You try your best to ignore him as you stand to leave the Great Hall.

A boy stops you near the entrance, you think you recognize him. He’s the same year as you, and pretty nice as far as you know. His name is Lucas, you’re pretty sure.

“Hey.” Lucas says warmly. “How are you?”

He’s a bit close, and you’re sort of backed into the wall. You laugh awkwardly. “I’m alright, um, how are you?”

He smiles. “About the same,” he looks behind him and then back at you, same easy-going smile that isn’t easy the way Theo’s is. “Anyways, I was wondering… since you broke up with Nott, maybe you’d wanna go out sometime? With me?”

“She doesn’t.”

Lucas’s shoulders jump at the sound of Theo’s voice and he backs away from you and spins to look at Theo, whose standing there with a dangerous look on his face.

You glare at him. “Maybe I do want to.” It’s a challenge and Theo knows it.

Lucas sputters. “You know, I actually realized I’m busy, so…” he scrambles off after that you’re left with Theo.

You scowl at him. “Theo, what the fuck?”

“He’s not good enough for you.” He shrugs like he knows what’s good enough for you. Mr. Bet-Winner.

Your heart aches in your chest just looking at him. “And how would you know what’s good enough for me, Theo? because you sure as hell weren’t.”

He scowls now. “I treated you like you were a fucking princess, Y/n, all he would’ve done was treat you like a piece of ass.”

You huff. “A princess, Theo? None of it was even real!” You spin to walk away but Theo catches your wrist and pulls you back; he slips his other arm around your waist and pulls you right to his chest. Your faces almost touch.

Your breath hitches like the traitor that it is.

He pulls your hand up to rest on his chest, where his heart beats hard and erratically. “Does this feel fake to you?” Theo’s fingers dig lightly into your waist. “Do you honestly think that all of that— everything we said and did— meant nothing?”

His breath fans across your face.

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, and he’s the ice bucket that can save you— but your pride and anger are like the fires of hell; irreparable.

“You took a bet to make me fall for you, Theo, and lucky for you, you won it. How much was I worth, huh?”

He replies almost instantly. “I didn’t take any money, Y/n.” Theo breathes deeply and you feel his chest rise and fall, forcing yours to do the same.

“You— what?” You can feel your resolve cracking, the hope leaking through that somehow you were wrong.

“Let me explain the full story.” He waits for you to give him confirmation; you nod and he continues. “Yes, it started with the bet, and yes, I had never planned for it to last. It was cruel and mean, and I’m sorry. But the thing is, I didn’t anticipate that I would end up falling in love with you right back.” The words feel like a kick to the heart.

“But, on the other hand, how could I not? You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and you’re intelligent and funny, you laugh at all my stupid jokes. You love potions more than any other class and you’re really good at it too.” He stops. “Y/n, you’re perfect and I’m so, so sorry I never told you— or, even worse, that I did it in the first place.”

Your heart skips several beats. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Oh.” You’re at a loss for words.

He just looks you over, trying to assess what’s running through your mind like he always does. “Please forgive me, Y/n. I love you so much it hurts.”

You pull away from him and he reluctantly lets go, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

“You’re serious?” You ask quietly. “No bets this time? Nothing you haven’t told me?”

He shakes his head, giving you the saddest, puppy-dog look, unintentionally.

You’re silent for another long moment before, finally, you say: “you love me?”

Theo looks into your eyes. “God, yes.”

“Okay.” You say softly.

He straightens. “Okay, you’ll get back together with me or Okay, I don’t forgive you?”

You hold up one finger and he seems to understand because he pulls you back into him so quickly and presses his lips to mine; you kiss him back, and kind of stand there, kissing, for a long moment. Probably longer than you should’ve.

But you wish he never had to stop.

All content belongs to @beingsuneone , do not repost, copy or post on other platforms without my permission.

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #hp x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theo x reader #hp characters #x reader #the slytherin boys #slytherin boys #slytherin #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n

3K notes · View notes

dreaming-medium · 4 months

Text

Watch Your Six

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Sensory Deprivation - Han Jisung

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Word Count: 14.8k

Summary: After training for years, you finally become a full fledged agent for KDOI, the Korean Division of Intelligence. Over time, each and every agent becomes something like a family member, including the high-tech nerd who has managed to put a smile on your face since day one. What happens when he's sent with you on his first field mission?

Warnings: Violence, smut (18+) MDNI

A/N: Kinktober is a state of mind. I know its January idc lol I will finish the list of prompts even if it kills me

---------------------------------------

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound your sneakers make on the treadmill reverberates through the gym. The expensive, high tech plastic mask strapped to your face fogs up with each exhale and clears with each inhale.

To your right, a man holds a clipboard, glasses covered eyes watching your vitals displayed on the monitor hooked up to the mask and other various wires clipped to your body.

You’ve been running for about an hour straight, but your breathing is still even; and just by glancing down at the screen, your heart rate looks the same.

For months, you’ve been training with the federal agency to be one of their field agents. Countless nights were spent pushing yourself to the limit, physically and mentally.

Today was your final evaluation before becoming a full-fledged agent. You were selected out of the hundreds of trainees to test to move on.

It was a great honor, all your hard work was finally paying off.

Maybe you’ll get your first mission after this!

If you pass.

A small bead of sweat drops down the side of your face.

Bored, your eyes wander over to the man studying your every heartbeat.

The thick rimmed glasses that sat on his face have slid down his nose a bit. His lips seem to sit in a constant pout thanks to those pudgy cheeks of his.

Choppy, fluffy brown hair sits on his head like a mop. You can tell he’s run his fingers through it more than a handful of times to get it out of his eyes.

A crisp white lab coat rests over a hoodie and khaki pants. A few different pens and instruments sit in the pocket under an embroidered ‘J’ .

You’ve seen him around the trainees once or twice in the years you’ve been here. From what you’ve gathered, he was one of the technical experts, providing countless gadgets and gizmos for the field agents to use.

The guy that would give the secret agent a lipstick taser before embarking on their world class espionage mission.

He’s pretty and smart— what a lethal combination.

When the man looks back up at the treadmill, your eyes flick back to dead ahead of you.

Reaching forward, he hits the stop button on the treadmill and jots down a few notes on his clipboard, a tiny smile pulls at his handsome face.

The treadmill comes to a gradual stop and so do your legs. One hour exactly sits on the clock.

Nervously, you look down at the screens, to his monitor, looking at anything you can.

“You did extremely well, 586.” There’s a happy tilt to his tone while he scribbles down some more notes, flipping the page, then writing some more. “You can take the mask off now.”

Nodding, you gently take the mask off your face and drape it over the top of the treadmill.

“I have one more examination for you.” He clicks a few buttons on the computer to the side.

Patiently, you stand there waiting for instruction.

He looks up at you with amusement glinting in his big, brown eyes. “You don’t need to be so stiff with me, 586, that’s not part of the tests.”

Your shoulders relax and sag forward a bit. “Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Understandable.” He grabs a hold of the cart with the machines on it and rolls it to the side. “Most, if not all, trainees are during their examination. I can’t remember a trainee that wasn’t nervous— well, maybe M, but he’s a special case.”

“Are you J?” you ask, looking down at his lab coat.

“I am,” he answers and steps closer to the treadmill.

He reaches forward and unsnaps the wires hooked onto the leads on your chest. The sticker part stays on, but the wires are removed. Which means you’ll probably be hooked up to another machine soon.

“I’ve seen you around before,” you say to him, studying his face up close.

“I’m always around everywhere,” he jokes, unhooking more wires. “I don’t think there’s a square inch of this agency I haven’t seen.”

“Are you a field agent?”

He scoffs. “No, not me. I could never handle that.”

“But you’re an agent.”

He moves his head side to side. “Of sorts, yeah. B needed a tech guy, so technically I’m an agent. But if you were to send me on a mission, I might cry. I leave those sorts of things up to C or S, or any one of the other agents. Just not me.”

You nod with a small smile of your own.

“Follow me.”

Following his orders, you step off the treadmill and follow after him out of the gym.

“Is there only one of each letter?” you ask.

J laughs. “Actually, yeah.” He leads you towards a side room, it looks like an interrogation room with a large contraption on the center of the table. “It’s easier that way.”

He motions for you to take a seat across the table.

“And unless you fail this psych evaluation, I believe we’re going to be back to 26 again.” J starts fiddling with the machine, pulling wires and leads off the top.

A happy pang goes through your heart. Thank god he hasn’t hooked up the heart monitor yet, he would’ve seen it skyrocket.

“You think?” Nervously, you shift around in the chair.

J chuckles. “I do. I haven’t seen a perfect exam like this in a while. Plus, we saw all the extra training you were putting in.”

Your mouth opens a bit in shock. J looks over at you, holding the wires ready to snap to the leads on your chest.

“We have eyes everywhere, 586. Did you really think we didn’t see that?”

An embarrassed flush crawls on your neck and turns your ears red. “Of course, I know that.”

Again, he chuckles and snaps all the wires to the leads. His fingers are warm in contrast with the cold air of the exam room. Each time his knuckles brush against your skin the feeling lingers.

He places a strap around your head that has two metal leads pressing into your forehead. Even more wires from that strap lead down to the detector.

J looks down at the wires and then turns on the machine. It whirrs to life and a needle starts scribbling out your heart rate on the top.

It’s a lie detector. Of sorts. It looks like more than that.

You’re not going to pretend to understand anything, though. That’s his job.

His eyes watch the needle, he then reaches forward and clips a small cuff on your finger— a steady beeping follows it.

“There we go,” he mutters to himself and takes a seat across from you.

J shuffles papers around on the clipboard to rearrange them.

A large mirror sat on the wall behind him. There’s no way that’s not one way glass. Is there anyone on the other side watching your evaluation? Or is it just the two of you? Is there another higherup keeping track of your answers? Maybe it’s B? Or maybe other agents are spectating to see how you are.

You would be working closely with them, after all. If the roles were reversed, you’re sure you would watch.

“Ready?” J’s voice interrupts your thoughts.

Your eyes snap to him and you nod.

“Is your name Y/N L/N?” he asks, looking down at the clipboard.

It’s been so long since you’ve heard your real name. Two years? Yeah, two years. You’ve only been referred to as 586 since you joined.

“Yes.”

J looks at the contraption for a few seconds, taking note of the way it moves. He makes a small tick on the paper.

“Can you verify your date of birth for me?”

You do as he says, saying it like second nature. Again, he repeats the same motion of watching your heart rate and making a small tick.

The questions start out simple. Where were you born? What are your parent’s names? Do you have any siblings? All questions that you would make a security question for your bank.

“Now, let’s get to the real questions. Just answer honestly and you have nothing to worry about, okay, 586?” J’s voice is calm and smooth.

Something about this guy makes you want to tell him everything regardless of if you’re hooked up to several machines.

“Have you ever been contacted by an external government agency prior to enlisting in KDOI?”

KDOI: The Korean Division of Intelligence. Your dream job since you were a young girl.

“No.”

After your answer, J watches your heart rate for even longer than before. He makes a tick on the clipboard.

“Have you ever been contacted by an external government agency after enlisting in KDOI?”

“No.”

Another tick.

“Have you ever participated in an organized event that openly opposed KDOI?”

“No.”

Tick.

“Have you ever had malicious thoughts about KDOI or the agents working within it?”

“No, quite the opposite. I admire KDOI.” You add the last part with a sheepish smile.

J grins when he makes the next tick on the paper.

“Next section…” he murmurs. “Have you recently had thoughts of suicide?”

“No.”

Tick.

Question after question comes from his mouth. You answer honestly to each of them, not even hesitating to let the reply leave your lips.

“Did you have thoughts of suicide prior to enlisting in KDOI?”

“No.”

Tick.

“Do you ever have thoughts of harming others?”

“No.”

Tick.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“N- what?” Your eyes widen and you stare at him incredulously. There’s no way that’s on the evaluation.

J feigns ignorance and points down to the clipboard. In exaggerated movements, he motions down to it and shrugs, puffing air in his cheeks and just making a meal out of this fake performance.

“I can’t believe it either but there it is. ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’”

You tongue your cheek and smirk a bit. “No, J, I do not.”

J nods and scribbles down more than just a tick while looking at the heart monitor. “Interesting…”

He makes a few last notes before his eyes widen and he looks up at you, pointing his pen in your direction. “No girlfriend either, right?”

You roll your eyes, “No, no girlfriend either.”

Isn’t this an official evaluation? For a government official secret organization that grants people a license to kill?

He asked you if you were single immediately after asking if you’ve had thoughts of suicide. Is this guy for real?

You slow blink at him while he finishes up the form on his end.

“Well!” he exclaims happily, hitting the clipboard on the metal table. You don’t even flinch. “I believe we’re all finished here.”

Your heart squeezes with nerves.

J stands up from the table and rounds the table towards you.

So badly you want to ask for the results of your exam. Are you in? Did you pass? Are you an agent?

“B needs to sign off on all the paperwork,” J trails off, his hands reaching forward to unhook all the wires from the leads stuck to your skin. “But… I don’t think there’s any issue with me welcoming you to the agency. Officially.”

Since the heart monitor was still hooked up, you can hear the needle suddenly spike and scribble large peaks on the paper.

J turns his head to look at it. An amused smirk crosses his face and a chuckle huffs through his chest. “Funny,” he says to himself and then turns back to you.

Sheepishly, you look away from him.

“That’s what gets your heart rate to spike?” J sits on the corner of the table and folds his arms across his chest.

You bite your cheek and avoid his eyes. “Well, this has been my dream job since I was a young girl; so, yes, you alluding to me becoming an official agent would raise my heart rate.”

J scoffs. His warm fingers suddenly grab your face, thumb on one cheek and his middle and pointer finger on the other. He turns your head to face him.

When your gaze snaps to his face, you see that there’s a cocky smirk on his face but his eyes are focused down on the heart monitor. The needle stays steady much to his obvious distaste.

He sucks teeth in disbelief. “Really?”

“Is this another test?” your voice comes out muffled due to him holding your cheeks.

J rolls his eyes with a frown. “Yeah, let’s go with that.” He releases your face and slides the strap off your head.

The leads on your chest are soon to come off after that. J is careful not to rip the sticky pads off your skin too fast so that it doesn’t sting. He rubs the site with a bit of rubbing alcohol afterwards to get rid of the residue.

“How long have you been at the agency?” you ask. You’re curious about him.

He defeats all the ‘Secret Agent’ stereotypes. He’s personable and warm— and a bit flirtatious. He’s not at all the cold, all-business type you were used to. That’s how more than half the trainees were.

It’s not that you were cold, no. You just kept to yourself and worked hard.

And you made sure your personality didn’t fade during that time either.

J’s nose crinkles up while he thinks. His hands slow down in the process. “Hmm,” he hums. “Maybe four years now? Yeah, sounds about right.”

Your eyes widen. “Four years? How old are you?”

He smirks. “Don’t you know never to ask a young man his age.”

“I guess if you’re not going to tell me…” you trail off. “I’ll just say twenty eight then.”

“Twenty ei—!” he stammers and takes the last lead off your chest. “I’m twenty two!”

“Wasn’t so hard was it?”

J grumbles and turns around to finish putting the machine away. But there’s an amused tilt to the corner of his puffy lips and a playful glint in his eye.

“So you started when you were eighteen?”

“Yep.”

“Child prodigy?”

“Taken right from high school.”

“Impressive.”

J laughs under his breath. “Everyone seems to think so.”

“You don’t?”

“Eh.” He shrugs. “Everyone here is a prodigy of some sort. It’s easy to blend in and somehow appear mediocre when surrounded by Korea’s most elite minds and bodies.”

“I don’t think you’re mediocre.”

“You haven’t met everyone else yet.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer again. J grabs your clipboard and takes the papers off it, handing them to you.

“Bring these to B, he has to sign off on the final enlistment.” You take the stack from him. “The guard outside the door will bring you up to his office.”

You look down at the papers, your heart rate picking up faster and faster the more you think about it.

J puts his hand on your lower back and ushers you towards the door. It tingles at the base of your spine. He reaches in front of you and opens the door, motioning for you to exit first. The hand on your lower back twitches and it feels like he almost scratches it twice before urging you forward and dropping it.

It’s weirdly comforting.

It doesn’t feel weird at all.

You turn back to look at him, “Thank you, J.”

He smiles. Those round cheeks get even bigger when it happens.

“Welcome to KDOI, X .”

---------------------------------------

Two years goes by in the blink of an eye when working with a government agency. Especially when a majority of your assignments can take anywhere from a week to two months at a time.

The agents you work with are the only constant in your life. Other faces flitter in and out of your life like leaves falling off trees. You don’t grow attached to anyone outside of this organization, you can’t afford to.

You’re not complaining, not at all. You love the life you have now. It’s everything you ever wanted.

Everyone at KDOI is a family, you’re all each other has. It’s an unspoken, special bond.

When you first started, you were welcomed in with open arms. Obviously, some agents were warmer than others at first— or maybe it’s just that some were better at first impressions than others.

Maybe other people would have been upset with M’s standoffishness when you first introduced yourself. But, after a hot coffee appeared on your desk not even five minutes after complaining about being cold to him and only him, you knew he wasn’t detached and icy at all.

Other agents, like F, have been nothing but a ball of sunshine. He was the one you ate lunch with every single day while you were at the agency. Whilst sitting by yourself in the cafeteria on day one, he took it upon himself to plop himself in the seat right across from you.

H is your favorite agent to go on long assignments with. He never fails to be a constant source of entertainment and intelligent conversation— with the occasional stupid ass comment that makes you question where the man you were just talking to went.

Slowly but surely, you’ve also started learning their real names. Learning someone’s real name was apparently the equivalent of leaving you in their will around here.

There was a time and place to refer to them as their real name. It was a line you tiptoed constantly.

Surprisingly, it was M who told you his name first: Minho. It was completely unprompted too. It was in the jet returning from a three week mission where you had saved him from at least five different gunshot wounds by tackling him to the ground.

The others trickled in afterwards.

Y, or Jeongin, was shocked when you didn’t know his name. And immediately told you afterwards with a cute, wide smile on his face.

Even though every single agent has become a part of you, one particular agent seems to have captured a larger part of your soul than the others.

“J,” you say casually, slipping behind him to stand on the other side of his cluttered workbench.

Jisung. He had told you his name when you had lingered in his workshop late one night, not wanting to go back to your dorm quite yet.

“Hello, X,” he grins without looking up at you. The glasses on his nose have fallen forward.

His laptop is his primary focus, several wires are running from the computer to a tiny little gadget that looks no bigger than a cell phone. It has a small LED screen with different colored pixels bouncing around it.

Jisung’s workshop was one of your favorite places in the agency. There was always music playing, a computer always had some sort of TV on silent with the subtitles on, and there were always snacks everywhere.

You consider it a second dorm, really. As soon as you’re done training for the day, you usually find yourself here.

“When did you get back?” he asks, clicking a few keys and looking over at the gadget, then back to his computer.

“Maybe two hours ago?”

“And it took you this long to come say hi?”

“I had to shower.”

“ And you didn’t invite me?” his cheeky smile gets bigger.

You smack the back of his head, the glasses fall even more. You’re surprised they don’t tumble off his face.

If one thing has remained constant since your exam day, it’s the relentless flirting. The guy can’t go more than five minutes without saying some sort of teasing comment.

It should bother you.

But it doesn’t.

At this point, you’ve gotten quite used to it. If he ever stopped, then you might be a bit concerned. You might even miss it.

But you would never tell him that.

Jisung makes a tiny ‘gah’ noise and rubs the back of his head in fake pain. He pushes his glasses up his nose and looks over at you.

“I missed you so much and the first thing you do is hurt me,” he whines.

“I wasn’t gone that long.”

“Two long months without my girlfriend.”

“ Not your girlfriend.”

He clutched his chest through his baggy black hoodie. “Another wound.”

You cross your arms and giggle a bit. “Well get used to me not being here. B is sending me on another assignment tomorrow.”

Jisung frowns. “I know, he asked me to be at your debrief tomorrow morning.” He lets out a whine. “You just got back! Usually you’re around for at least two weeks in between missions.”

Shrugging, you look around the room. The digital clock on the wall read 10:29 PM. He’s usually the only one in here past 5:30, he tends to lose track of time easily when working on projects.

“It’s part of the job,” you say casually.

Jisung grumbles again, looking down at his laptop once more. “Yeah, well it sucks. Everyone’s always coming and going. Meanwhile I’m stuck here all day every day.”

“I thought you didn’t do field work.”

“I don’t . I just also hate that I’m trapped here while everyone gets to travel with one another.”

You narrow your eyes. “You do know we’re not sightseeing, right?”

Jisung balks. “Of course I know that.” He pauses. “But I did see that picture that you and Changbin took at Buckingham Palace.”

You bite your lip to stop the smile. “Not my fault it just so happened to be by our hotel.”

“Bang said if we had a Christmas card he would use that picture.”

The smile you’re fighting gets even bigger. You hesitate before speaking up again. “It’s a good picture.”

Jisung’s head drops and he places both of his hands on the table. “See what I mean?” he groans.

“Just tell Bang that you want field work.”

Jisung’s head shoots up and he stares at you with wide eyes. “I would die in the field!”

“You would not. One of us would be there to save your hide. You really think Minho would let you die?”

“I think he would load the gun himself.”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest. Uncrossing your arms, you turn around and lean against the table.

“Ji, we would make sure you were safe if you were to come out in the field with us. It’s our job.”

“Your job is to carry out the mission.”

“I wouldn’t give a damn about the mission if your life was on the line.”

Jisung’s mouth snaps shut. His eyebrows fly up his forehead.

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his knuckles turn white from gripping the counter so hard.

His Adam’s Apple bobs with a gulp.

You shouldn’t have said something like that, shouldn’t you? Your job is to carry out government missions. Personal feelings should never be put first, you know that.

So why did you say that?

Fuck, you shouldn’t have said that.

The shock on Jisung’s face quickly morphs into a cocky smirk. It’s a mask. You can see in his eyes he’s still a bit shocked.

“I knew you were in love with me.”

Groaning, you roll your eyes and push off the table. “I’m going back to my dorm to sleep. Goodnight, J.”

Your hand slides to his lower back and you scratch twice over his lab coat and hoodie.

Ever since your exam day, the two of you do this small gesture to each other all the time. It could be when he passes behind you in the cafe line or comes up behind you in the training room. It’s such a tiny, personal gesture.

Sometimes on the coldest nights in the field, you’ll find yourself aching for that small touch.

“You’re so head over heels in love with me, X!” he calls after you, again, clutching at his heart and overacting like he’s swooning.

“I’m leaving!”

“You just got here!” he whines.

“Bye.”

“I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you walk away, X!”

“Night!” you repeat, letting the door shut after you.

You walk down the hallway of the agency with a goofy smile on your face.

“Idiot,” you mumble to yourself.

---------------------------------------

B’s office was at the very top of the large building, the windows overlooked the entirety of Seoul. Everything inside the office exuded money and power. The wood of the bookshelves was black and sleek and always dust free.

Inside the office was so large there was an entire sitting area with two sofas and two loveseats around a coffee table.

There was always a bergamot candle burning on a side table there.

It was just about 10 AM when you stepped inside.

“Ah, X, thank you so much for coming in.” B stands up from his large desk chair to welcome you in.

Bang Chan, the leader of KDOI, and the most unassuming man you’ve ever met. When you brought him your final exam paperwork that fateful day you thought you were in the wrong office.

This whole time you were expecting a wrinkly old man, not a twenty-something with dimples.

But, at this point, you’ve learned to not be surprised by anything anymore.

Maybe you were surprised at the fact that the other man in the room made no move to even look at you.

Jisung sat in the other chair in front of the desk, his face sheet white. Both of his hands are gripped in tight fists on top of his pants.

Your warm smile fades from your face as you take in his ghastly expression.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

Chan’s lips form a tight line as he motions to the chair for you to sit in. “I was going over your next assignment with J before you got here.”

“Apologies, am I late?”

“No, not at all. I had J come in a little early to talk to him one on one.”

You glance over at Jisung who looks like he hasn’t even blinked. Alarm bells are going off inside your head. Not even a nod in your direction?

“What’s this assignment about, B?” You look back to your boss.

He slides a manilla envelope across the desk to you, you take it without a second thought. Chan picks up a tiny remote off his desk and presses a button. Shades slowly come down over the window, bathing the room in darkness. Another beep on the remote and a holographic screen projects from the floor next to the desk.

Both you and Chan turn your chairs to go over the debrief, Jisung stays still. Part of you wants to snap your fingers in front of his face to see if he’s still alive or not.

Instead, you focus on your job.

“I know you’re used to more recoup time, but I’m afraid this assignment is pretty urgent.” Chan clicks the remote. A grainy CCTV picture is displayed on the screen. “The international gang you’ve been dealing with lately, the Ice Crows, have shown their face again.”

Chan zooms in on the image. Several higher ups of the gang are getting out of a black SUV. They’re all dressed in fancy suits smoking cigars.

The last time you dealt with them was about five months ago when their trail had gone cold over in Canada.

“When and where was this taken?” you ask.

“Yesterday. Paris. Where you and J will be headed after this.”

Your head snaps over to look at Chan.

With Jisung? No wonder the guy looked like he was eight inches from death!

Your eyes slide to the engineer, he’s still staring forward. A cold sweat on his brow.

“J is coming with me?”

Chan points your attention back to the debrief. “Allow me to continue.”

You spare one last look Jisung. The poor guy is shaking in his boots. Your hands itch to reach out and comfort him, but you have to remain professional.

That’s for after the debrief.

“There’s an auction being held at the Palais des Congrès. Several large and important pieces are being shown there. Including…” Bang switches the slides and displays an expensive painting. “The Refuge, which was stolen no more than two months ago by the Ice Crows. They’re putting it up for auction when it belongs back in Korea.”

Your eyes narrow. “This seems like a pretty rookie cut and dry assignment, B. You need me to get the painting back. I don’t understand why J has to come with me, he doesn’t do field work.”

The conversation the two of you had the previous night echoes in your mind.

B nods. “I know. Let me get there, X.” He switches the slide to display the floor plan of the museum. “This convention center is rather high tech, as you can see. It’s equipped with blockers that don’t allow any outside waves to make it past their walls. Any and all technical communication has to come within the building.”

“So, you’re sending J with me because he’s the only one that can operate field equipment? S can operate simple transmitters and trackers.”

“It’s more than that, X. The painting will be behind several different firewalls and security systems that not even S can hack through. J needs to be with you and he needs to be in that building.”

You take a deep breath and look over at Jisung. His hundred yard stare has moved from the window and is now focused down on his lap.

“He’ll be in your hotel room the entire time. You’ll be doing the recon and walking through the convention center to get where you need to be.”

Jisung pulls his lips between his teeth. His body finally came back to life. “I won’t need to leave the room?” His voice is hoarse.

“No,” Chan answers quickly. “Not until you’re leaving to come back home.”

Jisung shifts on his chair, unfurling his fists and swallowing thickly.

“I understand your apprehension, J, I do. But I need you on this.”

Jisung watches him closely and then offers a weak nod. He glanced over at you.

“I wouldn’t put you with X unless I was sure that she would watch your six.”

You nod and steel your expression. “I won’t let anything happen to you, J.”

Color returns to J’s cheeks at your words. He gulps and takes a deep breath, his shoulders rolling back and remaining stiff.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Okay, I’ll do it.” He’s more confident the second time.

“Good.” Chan clasps his hands together. “Stay safe, agents. Amusez vouis bien!”

---------------------------------------

You and Jisung were the only ones inside the cabin of the agency’s private jet. It took off the runway only about four minutes ago.

The brunette sat across from you, his eyes focused out the window at the clouds below. His posture is anything but relaxed. He’s sitting ramrod straight in the large cushioned chair.

You don’t think his muscles have released since you both were in Chan’s office. Even through the thick layers of his comfortable traveling clothes you can clearly read his uneasy body language.

“You okay?” you ask gently.

“No,” he mutters back. Duh.

You bite the inside of your cheek, completely unsure of what to do or say. This was never a part of your training. Maybe you should’ve picked up a copy of ‘ Comforting Friends for Dummies ’ when you had the chance.

Killing targets? Easy!

Provide detailed surveillance on a suspicious person? Done!

Soothe an anxious friend? Not so simple.

Jisung’s cheeks seem even puffier than usual, lips pursed in a pout. There’s no sparkle to his eyes like you’re used to.

Taking a deep breath, you lean back in your seat and look around the plane. You crack your knuckles, displaying your own nerves.

“Do you know the best part of staying at hotels during missions?” you ask him to break the silence.

Jisung hums in acknowledgement, he continues to watch the clouds below.

“You get to order all the room service you want— it comes out of the agency’s card.” You smirk.

He shifts around in his seat. His hands that were tightly gripping the armrests relax a bit.

“Last assignment I was on with Hyunjin, we were in a seaport town, the hotel made these bacon wrapped scallops… man… I ate so many I thought I was going to explode.” You pat your stomach.

Jisung finally looks at you. “Bacon wrapped scallops?”

You nod and smile at him. “You’ll be in the room the entire time. Think of all the room service you’ll get to order.”

“I’ve never had bacon wrapped scallops.”

“It’s Paris, who knows what they’ll offer there. And it all goes on Bang’s card.”

Jisung finally smiles. It wavers for a second, like he’s sheepish to do it. It’s paired with a breathy chuckle. He looks down at his lap and lets his body fall forward a bit, elbows resting on his knees.

His knee bounces anxiously and the exhales he lets out are shaky.

“God, Y/N,” he sighs, rubbing his face. “I can’t help but freak out.”

“Understandable.”

“It’s my first time out in the field.”

“I know.”

“What if something happens?”

You roll your eyes. “I would be more surprised if something didn’t happen, Jisung.”

His head shoots up. The color drains from his face. His pouty lips part a few times like he’s trying to find the right words to say.

“But I’m prepared for it, Jisung.” You lean forward, mirroring his posture and take his hands between yours. “I’m prepared to take care of whatever pops up to keep you safe, okay?”

His jaw clenches and he stares deeply into his eyes. The hands in yours are so warm in stark contrast to your always-cold ones.

“And if anything terrible happens then I’ll do whatever it takes to get you out of it. Trust in me, okay? I have to take care of KDOI’s resident nerd, after all.”

“Resident nerd…” he scoffs.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Did I ever tell you what happened on my first mission with Minho?”

Jisung shakes his head.

“It was supposed to be easy! The intel that KDOI had gotten was that there was going to be a large drug exchange somewhere in the States, Minho was sent with me. And my lord, our intel was off.”

Thinking about the memory makes you giggle to this day.

“It was an international, high profile cartel that Bang has been trying to nail down for years. Well, during a small scout, I got my ass captured. I wasn’t watching my six like I should’ve.”

Jisung’s eyes widen. Obviously, he wasn’t told about this. It’s not like you enjoy flaunting the story around.

“I had a gun to the back of my head, the leader of the cartel was screaming for Minho to come out from where he was hiding or he’d kill me. God, I’ve never been so afraid in my life. My first assignment and I already had a gun to my skull.

“Minho, being the amazing agent he is, found the right vantage point and took the guy out. I was able to evade the crossfire after that, but honestly those bullets weren’t what scared me, it was the idea that Minho was disappointed in me.”

He was the agent you looked up to the most after all. He was the one that all these great stories and tales were all about. Minho was the harrowing hero of KDOI who was able to ace every mission handed to him.

“But he didn’t even say anything about it. Even when I apologized over and over again, he just shrugged and said it was part of the job. And I get it now. It is just part of the job. So don’t worry, okay?”

Jisung swallows once, chin dipping down with a stiff nod. He turns his hands around in yours to grasp your fingers.

A playful smirk creeps up on his face. “I can’t believe it…”

Your head cocks to the side and you watch him closely. He’s studying your manicured nails, his thumbs swipe over the digits softly. It’s a tender movement.

“What?” you ask.

“I can’t believe how in love with me you are.”

You rip your hands out of his and swat forward just as fast.

With a barking laugh, he moves out of the way of your slap. You swing again and again, each time his laughter gets louder and louder.

“First last night, now this? Are you going to propose to me next?”

You know this is just his way of evading thinking about how scared he is, but if that’s what it takes to make him feel better, you’ll allow it. If a distraction is what he needs, then you’ll give it to him.

“Love hurts!” he cries out when you land a solid smack on his arm. “They were right!”

“It’s going to kill you, that’s what it’s going to do.”

---------------------------------------

By the time you and Jisung get to the convention center and check into the hotel it’s nearing seven at night. The gala isn’t being held until tomorrow, so you both have some time to relax and settle in.

It leaves Jisung plenty of time to set up everything he needs inside your hotel room.

You both checked in without a hitch, getting your keys and practically falling into the room. Jet Lag is pulling your eyelids shut and weighing down on your chest like an elephant.

Flicking the lights on, you blink your bleary eyes a few times, staring down at the large bed sitting in the middle of your hotel room.

One king sized bed.

You’d love to say this hasn’t happened before but you never know what to expect on missions. There have been places where there’s been one bed, two beds, bunk beds , and even separate bedrooms once or twice.

On one occasion Hyunjin slept on the floor since you were only given one twin sized bed and you were not about to share that tiny space with the man who likes to spread out all of his limbs and hog the blanket at the same time.

So, at this point, you don’t even care if there’s only one bed.

You shrug it off and plop your bag next to the dresser and let your body fall back onto the plush mattress with an ‘oof!’

Jisung, on the other hand, hovers around the doorway, both hands still gripping the two rolling suitcases full of his equipment. “I can sleep on the pull out couch,” he says thickly.

“Ji, it’s fine, we can share a bed, we’re both adults here,” you tease him. “As long as you don’t put your cold feet on me, I don’t care.”

“I don’t have cold feet,” he grumbles and wheels his suitcases towards the small table on the other side of the room.

You let your eyes slide shut on the bed. The gentle hum of the air conditioner already lulling your brain to sleep. With how exhausted you are, it wouldn’t take much for you to give into the pull anyway.

Jisung opens up the suitcases and starts unloading every piece of technology that he has brought with him. Various wires and computer parts thud against the wood of the table.

He stops for a second.

“And how would you know if I did have cold feet?”

A laugh is punched from your chest at the abrupt question. It’s a deep belly laugh. “Let’s just say there is a loose lipped agent among us.”

Jisung pauses. “Minho said he wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“He wasn’t going to until I started teasing him about his purchase of fuzzy socks.”

“You were with him when he bought those?”

“I helped him choose between two different pairs.” You crack one eye open to look at him. “The purple pair was my idea.”

Jisung groans and slides his laptop open, the typing on his keys is a lot more aggressive. You giggle again at his outward display of frustration.

You let your eyes close again, listening to him shuffle his things around the wooden table muttering in between movements about how his feet aren’t that cold, they’re just colder than the rest of his body.

An easy smile finds its way on your face and you listen to his quiet ramblings until sleep finally washes over your tired mind.

---------------------------------------

“You were right,” Jisungs voice says in your earpiece. “Room service is fucking awesome.”

A waiter with a tray full of champagne flutes passes by, you grab one as he strides by your side.

“I told you,” you say quietly while bringing the glass up to your lips to take a sip. “What did you order?”

“I think the better question is what didn’t I order.” His mouth sounds full when he answers you.

He’s up on the 14th floor of the convention hall while you’re downstairs at the gala in a sleek, red silk dress. Your hair and makeup done exquisitely well, beautiful silver heels match the diamond jewelry adorning your skin.

You blend right in to everyone around you.

“I heard that their oysters are fantastic.”

“I think that’s part of what I ordered.” You can hear several dishes being pushed around. “Yep, right here. Although, they don’t look as appetizing as I thought.”

“They’re not really a lounge snack.”

“For rich people they are.”

The mission started about an hour ago when you made your way into the main event hall. The auction for the painting is going to begin in about another hour.

Your first task of the night is to locate the painting before the auction and place a minuscule tracking device on it to locate later once it’s sold.

There was only one way you knew to get close enough to The Refuge.

“Oh. Three tables back to your 8 is your first target of the night, X.”

Paternino ‘Pink Panther’ Cardi. One of the Ice Crows inner circle members. He can’t resist swiping whatever paintings he can get his grimy fingers on; but, he also can’t resist bragging to an attractive woman.

You turn nonchalantly to find him already eyeing you up with dark eyes.

He’s your typical mafia member. In fact, if you had to draw a cartoon of a mobster, it would look like Paternino.

You hold his searing eye contact while taking another sip from your champagne. The mobster lowers his chin and lets his tongue dart out to lick his lips.

At first, seduction wasn’t a part of the job you particularly excelled at. But after doing it for so long, it comes naturally.

Batting your lashes, you smirk at him and then turn to walk towards his table, your hips swaying in the process. Maybe you exaggerate your movements a bit, but it has the exact effect you need on Paternino.

He’s sitting at a large round booth all by himself, legs spread wide in a show-of-power manner. A large swig of whiskey is taken out of his glass before you get to him.

“Don’t you know that a beautiful woman such as yourself deserves a better drink than the venue provided champagne?” He motions to the booth seat next to him.

You place your glass on the table and slide gracefully next to him. The effort you put into this is going to need to be quick, you don’t have long to locate the painting.

“And I suppose a handsome man like yourself knows just what to order a woman like me?” Your voice is coy and seductively low.

In your ear, you hear Jisung take a tiny, shaky breath. Does he know the intercom is still activated on his end?

Paternino slides towards you a bit more so now you can smell the expensive cologne wafting off him. It’s almost too overpowering.

“A woman like you, hm?” He rests his arm on the booth behind your shoulders, lifting one hand to signal a waiter to come by. “Look into my eyes, let me see if I can guess your drink of choice.”

You rest your chin on top of your folded hands, your elbows resting on the table. His eye contact is intense and vivid, it makes your skin crawl.

Paternino hums again. “A sapphire martini.”

“Nope,” Jisung says with a chuckle.

You give a tiny, fake gasp. “How did you know?”

“I know a woman with taste when I see her.” He takes another swig of his whiskey while staring at you. “A sapphire martini for the lady.”

There must have been a waiter next to the table. You fight the urge to turn and look, instead opting to look at Paternino through your lashes.

“Your turn, Beautiful. Why don’t you make an assumption about me?”

“I assume you’re an asshole with a tiny dick.”

Humming, you scoot even closer to Paternino, your fingers come up and walk up his chest to come around his tie.

“I think,” you whisper lowly, coming closer to his own face, forcing your eyes to look down at his lips for a split second then back up at his eyes. “That you’re a powerful man around here, and that you don’t take no for an answer.”

His lips curl up in a cocky smirk. The arm that was previously on the booth, comes around your shoulders. His fingers feel clammy on your exposed skin.

“Very observant, my lady. Anything else?”

The sound of a glass being delicately placed reaches your ears. You reach out and grab the martini glass without looking, bringing it closer to you.

“No, no, it’s your turn.”

He smiles. You’re so close to his face you can hear his exhales, smell the whiskey on his breath.

You sip your own martini. God, it’s awful. You hate martinis.

Paternino slides a finger underneath the spaghetti strap of your dress. “I think you would look gorgeous without this in the way.” He tugs on the strap.

“Zero out of ten. Horrible pick up line. Try again.”

Jisung’s snarky words in your ear are oddly calming to your racing heart. He keeps bringing you down to Earth.

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about your clothes.” You tug his tie. “The auction doesn’t start for some time. How about you show me somewhere private we can go and we can see if both of us are right.”

“Uuuuggghhhhhhh…”

“I like that idea, I know just the place, Beautiful.” Paternino slides out of the booth and holds out his hand, which you grab a hold of gingerly to stand up and be led away from the main gala floor.

---------------------------------------

It takes five minutes for Paternino to lead you to the room where The Refuge is being stored. It only takes you ten seconds to knock him out cold with one solid hit to the back of the head.

His body hits the ground like a sack of potatoes in the dark storage room.

“Fucking finally,” Jisung groans in your ear.

“Sorry, it was the only way I knew to get back here.”

“That was torture, X. I’m never doing this again.”

You roll your eyes and pick up Paternino’s ragdolling body under the arms, dragging him across the room and stuffing him inside a storage closet with his arms and legs tied together and duct tape over his mouth.

“Now, which one is The Refuge?” you mutter looking around at all the art around the room. There’s sculptures, painting, glass blown pieces, everything you would see in a museum.

“I wonder if The Refuge is the only stolen thing in here?”

Sighing, you walk around the room, trying to recognize anything. “Probably not. But it’s the only one we know about.”

You find the painting eventually sitting at the very back of the room covered by a large sheet. When you walk up to it, you take your earring out of your ear and slide the back off— which is where you were keeping the tracker.

You tuck the tracker in the back of the painting between the canvas in the wood. It wouldn’t slip out nor would anyone notice.

“Perfect.”

“I can see it on the map still, you’re all good. Now get out of there.”

“Anyone coming on the cams?”

“No, you’re clear.”

You take your other earring out and throw it in the garbage can by the door. They were fake anyway and you don’t feel like looking like a freak with one in.

---------------------------------------

When you returned to the event hall, people were taking their seats for the auction, so you followed suit. Grabbing another drink from the bar before you sat down.

“Vodka tonic?”

“Always,” you say under your breath.

You watch the bartender make your drink with close eyes.

Now you just needed to wait until the auction was over to get the painting back. Your job was half over.

Through the earpiece, you can hear knocks on Jisung’s hotel room door.

“More room service?”

“I… I didn’t order anything.”

Alarm bells go off in your mind. “Don’t answer it.”

Jisung stays silent for a few moments. You’re no longer watching the bartender, you’re focusing intently on what you can hear in your ear.

“J.” You state, trying to get an update from him.

“I think they’re gone.”

Before you can even think about being relaxed there’s a loud bang on the other side of the intercom and Jisung shrieks from surprise.

“X! X, they’re in the room! X!” His voice shouts into your ear.

You’re already running out of the event hall, your dress hiked up in your hands.

“J, there’s a gun strapped to the bottom of the table, use it!”

You can hear gruff voices screaming at Jisung not to move, that they’d kill him if he even twitched a muscle.

“X, there’s five of them.” He whispers quietly.

“J, listen to me, stay calm, I’ll be there in five minutes.” You burst through the stairwell and start climbing two at a time, even in your heels. The elevator would’ve taken too long. “Do what you need to stay alive, fuck the assignment. Stay alive.”

“X.” It’s a whimper and it stabs you through the heart. The yelling gets louder and louder.

Jisung begs for mercy. You can hear the desperation in his voice, it pushes your legs to move faster and faster up the stairs.

“Si—“

The earpiece goes dead after a gunshot.

Your knees wobble and you lose your momentum.

Oh my god, no, fuck, please.

Reaching out, you grab the railing to keep your balance on one of the landings.

“J?” you scream. “J, can you hear me?”

Nothing. Not a single voice comes through. Not even static.

Maybe they just shot the equipment. That has to be it. They didn’t shoot him. They wouldn’t. Right?

You steel your nerves and launch yourself up the remaining steps. By the time you reach the 14th floor, you’re not even winded.

The long hallway is colder than the stairwell. You take off sprinting towards your room, sharply rounding the few corners that you come across. Right before your own stretch of hallway, you slow down to a walk. It kills you but you have to do it.

In the distance, right in front of your room, you see two large men in black suits standing guard. They take notice of you immediately.

“What are you doing up here, ma’am?” One asks as you walk closer.

“My room is up here, honey.”

He looks to his partner and then back at you. “Turn around and walk the other way.”

“Why?” you ask, only about ten feet away.

“Just do it, sweet cheeks.”

Your eyebrow cocks and before he can react, you walk up and throw a sharp right hook into his jaw. The bone in his face cracks and he stumbles down onto the ground.

His partner yells in surprise and starts fumbling for his gun. When his hand raises to shoot you, you grab his arm and aim his weapon down so when he discharges it, it shoots right into his partner.

Then, you pull his arm so he falls forward into you. You swing the heel of your palm upwards right into his nose. With your free hand, you reach down and grab the tiny pistol that was strapped to your thigh.

Before the second goon could recover, you shoot him right in the head.

The sound of gunshots obviously alerted the remaining three gang members in the room. Two of them come barreling out into the hallway with their weapons drawn.

Immediately, you shoot the first one in the head, he hits the ground before he even knows what hit him. The other gang member yelps in shock before you shoot him too.

Within two minutes there are four bodies in the hallway.

Carefully, you walk into your hotel room, keeping your back against the wall and your gun cocked.

“Shut the fuck up,” a gruff voice says roughly.

Jisung said there were five of them. The fifth must be the one holding him hostage.

Quietly, you inch closer and closer to the corner of the wall. Once you turn around, he’ll be right in front of you.

You gulp and take one deep breath before coming around the corner, gun pointed forward.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” That same deep voice calls out.

Your heart drops.

Another typical looking crook is pointing his gun at the closed wardrobe doors in the corner of the room.

Where is Jisung? Where is he? Is he in the wardrobe? He has to be inside the wardrobe.

“Why don’t you drop the gun, sweetie.” The mobster says darkly.

You stay still with the gun pointed at him despite his words. The trigger seems to burn your finger. It's aching to be pulled.

Is Jisung in the wardrobe? Is he in there and you can’t see him?

Or is this guy trying to pull a fast one on you to get you to drop your weapon?

Fuck, is Jisung in the wardrobe?

“I said drop the fucking gun.” He moves to pull the hammer back of his own pistol and you don’t hesitate even for a second.

You pull your own trigger.

He drops to the ground with a bullet wound directly in his head.

You sprint across the room and rip open the wardrobe doors.

Empty.

It’s empty.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you repeat under your breath frantically. You blink your eyes over and over again hoping that he would suddenly appear.

You even go so far as to open and close the wardrobe door three more times, each time more frantic.

“Fuck!”

Where the fuck is he if he’s not inside this room?

The equipment on the table has a bullet hole through Jisung’s main laptop but no blood anywhere near it. But his glasses are. They’re lying on the floor with a crack through one of the lenses.

Did they move him to another location? He doesn’t have a tracker on him like you do.

With a yell of anguish, you turn and kick the dead mobster at your feet. His limp body rolls over and his jacket pocket falls open.

A hotel room key tucked inside the pocket catches your attention. You crouch down and pick it up.

‘1833’ is written on the back of the key.

It’s not a great lead, but your legs are running out of your hotel room before you even think twice. Obviously they moved him somewhere else to lead you into their trap and it didn’t work. Not with how well you were trained.

You burst through the door leading to the 18th floor, heeled shoes sprinting down the hallway towards where room 1833 would be.

As soon as you’re in front of the door, you click the hammer back of your gun and hold it out in front of you, swiping the key in the handle with your free hand.

The lock clicks open and you push the handle down slowly, trying to cause the least amount of noise as possible. All of the lights are off inside of the hotel room, save for one lamp. The yellow glow radiates on the wall.

There’s no noise.

Everything is completely silent save for the quiet hum of the air conditioning pumping through the room.

Until you hear a sniffle, a huff, and then another sniffle.

Inching across the floor, you slide your back against the wall like you did previously, listening for any more key sounds that would alert you that there are more people inside the room.

Taking one last deep breath, you round the corner and point your gun forward.

Even in the dark you know exactly what you’re seeing.

In the middle of the room stood Han Jisung; his hands tied together with a rope coming from the ceiling, a blindfold around his eyes and earplugs shoved into his ears. From here you can see the wetness from his tears being absorbed by the blindfold. There’s a gag tied around his mouth muffling tiny sobs.

You don’t allow yourself to fall victim to false security, you look around the room closely, making sure no one else is lying in wait for you to fall into yet another trap.

No other soul is inside this hotel room with you.

Dropping the gun onto the bed, you cross the room towards Jisung as quickly as possible.

He must sense another presence in front of him, his entire body stiffens and another louder sob is swallowed by the gag. He backs up away from you as much as his restraints allowed– which was next to nothing.

“Jisung,” you say in relief. “Oh god.”

Without thinking twice about it, you reach around and brush your hand on his lower back, scratching twice.

Jisung’s chest heaves with another sob, even through the gag in his mouth, you can hear him whimper your name. His entire body relaxes and he falls towards you, the ties on his hands tugging even more.

You reach up and yank the gag out of his mouth.

“X,” he rasps with a dry tongue. “Oh my god please say it’s you. I-I can’t hear anything— fuck, Jesus. Thank god you’re alive, oh god.”

You scratch his lower back again, looking at the restraints. How the fuck were you going to untie that knot?

Jisung’s tongue darts out to lick at his dry lips. His weight leans into you as much as he can. It must’ve been horrifying to be tied up like this, he couldn't hear or see or scream for help.

Gingerly, you reach up and cup both of his cheeks so as not to startle him. Even with how gentle you were, he still jumps in shock.

“Everything happened so fast,” he rambled. “They shot out the laptop so the communicator was fried. Next thing I knew I had a bag over my head and I was being tied up.”

Using your fingers, you push the blindfold up his face to rest around his forehead.

Jisung’s big, brown eyes blink and squint a bit before focusing on you. He searches all over your face, taking in every detail as if you’re a glass of water and he’s been crawling through the desert.

His eyebrows pinch together and he gulps.

“God, I’m always glad to see you, but now I’m really glad.”

You laugh under your breath, the stress from just the last thirty minutes alone lifting off your shoulders.

He’s okay.

Jisung is okay.

Using your hands, you wipe the tear tracks off his puffy cheeks. God, he must’ve been horrified.

He’s probably never going to go out into the field again. You look up at the restraints, analyzing the knot closely. You’re going to have to cut him down, there’s no way you’re untying that. He’s secured to a pipe that runs across the entirety of the ceiling.

“You know,” Jisung starts. His voice already has that teasing tilt to it. “If you wanted me tied up this badly, all you had to do was ask, baby.”

Your eyebrows twitches. Mr. Humor-Is-My-Coping-Mechanism decides to show his face now of all times, huh?

Slowly, you look down from his restrained wrists to his dark eyes. A smirk is already plastered on his face, his lips still wet from licking them.

“You must want me so bad, hm?”

With your own crooked smile, you tongue your cheek and make a ‘huh’ noise, it puffs through your chest. That’s how he wants to be, huh?

He can stay tied up for a little longer then. It’s not like anyone’s coming into this room nor do you have anything to do until after the auction.

Really, you have nothing but time to kill!

You take a step backwards away from him and cross your arms over your chest.

His eyes widen when you distance yourself from him. “Wh…” His cheeks puff a bit as his lips purse in confusion. Jisung tugs on the rope still around his wrists.

You cock your head to the side and stare at him with one lifted brow.

The bed behind you dips down under your weight as you sit down on the edge. It gives you a perfect vantage point to watch Jisung grow more and more confused as to why you’re not cutting him down yet.

Slowly, his ears start turning red, the flush crawls across his face and down his neck, disappearing into his black hoodie.

“X,” he says hoarsely. “Aren’t you going to cut me down?”

You shrug, knowing no matter what you say, he’s not going to hear you. If he wants to tease you, you can tease right back.

The gun on the bed beside you is picked up in your hand. You nonchalantly click the safety on and toss it to the side again.

He tugs even harder, the ropes chafing his wrists a bit. You watch as JIsung’s Adam’s Apple bobs with a gulp. The blindfold is pushing his bangs up in wild directions.

The helpless look on his face shouldn’t be making your blood pump this way. Excitement shouldn’t be tingling at the base of your spine from the power trip you’re getting from this. This is only teasing between two best friends, nothing more.

It’s just teasing, right?

Right?

You cross one leg over the other, leaning back on your hands. The plush blanket underneath your fingertips feels cool and soft. It’s a complete contrast to the way your skin is heating up under Jisung’s desperate gaze.

“Aren’t you going to…” he trails off. Several times his eyes flick from yours down to your exposed leg. When you had crossed them, due to the slit up your dress, the entirety of your leg was exposed to the cool hotel room air.

“Going to what?” you ask him, exaggerating the movements of your mouth for him to understand.

Jisung gulps again while watching your lips. He squints his eyes closed and tries to take a steadying breath in through his nose, his chin tilts back a bit.

You allow your gaze to wander down his body a bit. He’s always in relaxed clothing, including now. An oversized black hoodie draped over his shoulders with gray sweatpants on his bottom half.

Gray sweatpants that you now notice seem a little… tight .

Oh.

It seems as though you’re not the only one whose thoughts seem to be a bit… derailed.

When you look back up at Jisung, he’s staring at you with slightly glassy eyes and a heaving chest. Nervously, his tongue comes out to lick his drying lips again.

A tight band of tension stretches between the two of you; you can practically feel it connecting your bodies together. The hair on the back of your neck stands up.

Is he thinking the same thing you are? Is he allowing his mind to wander the way that yours is?

Slowly, you uncross your legs and stand up from the edge of the bed.

Big brown eyes flick down to watch the movement absentmindedly, his lips part and a shaky exhale leaves them.

Your hips sway from side to side with each slow step you take towards Jisung.

The eye contact he makes with you is sharp; his thoughts being conveyed through them. He wants you, and he wants you bad. It’s like he’s practically begging for it with those brown puppy dog eyes.

And you’ll be damned because you want it just as bad.

There’s only so much of his teasing that you can take. Only so much desire the dam within your heart can take before it bursts. And right now, with how high your adrenaline has spiked, nothing is stopping you.

The last two years of nonstop flirting is taking its toll on your self control.

Licking your own lips, you look up at Jisung, a shaky breath coming out afterwards.

Your fingers come up and grab the blindfold that’s still around his forehead and tug it back down over his eyes.

“ Fuck, ” Jisung murmurs. Your face is so close to his you can physically feel the words splay out onto your own lips.

With the gentleness of a butterfly landing on a flower, you brush your lips against his. Jisung immediately brings his face closer to yours, smashing your mouths together even more.

A sensation you can’t quite describe washes over you. It has the same level of completeness that you had felt when you became a full-fledged agent; like you just did something that the universe has been waiting for you to do.

His pouty lips start moving against yours faster and faster with more urgency, like he can’t get enough of you, like he’s experiencing the same emotions that you are. Were you the piece he always needed too?

Both of your hands begin to explore. You cup his cheek with one while the other grabs at the front of his hoodie. He’s leaning into you so much that the ropes holding his wrists squeak as they tighten and rub.

With a teasing smirk against his mouth, you take a tiny step back. This way he wasn’t able to reach your lips but could still feel the heat from your body in front of him.

A tiny whine leaves his throat as soon as you pull away. You watch as his lips chase after you just to be stopped by the ropes.

“Y/N,” he whispers, pleading. You lightly tap his cheek twice.

Pulling the collar of his hoodie to the side, you let your mouth hover over his neck.

Since he doesn’t have sight or hearing, all of his other senses are on high alert. Jisung feels your warm exhales so close to his skin and squirms around, little noises leaving the back of his throat.

You tease him more and more by letting your deep breaths fan over his flushed skin but never actually letting your lips actually meet with his neck.

Jisung pulls and pulls on the restraints, each exhale driving him insane.

When your lips finally meet his neck, a long mewl exits his own wet mouth. His head tilts to the side to give you more access. Greedily, you let your mouth explore his soft skin.

His hips buck forward into yours, his hard length grinding into your hip to bring himself some relief. Jisung whines again at the sensation.

At the same time, you open your mouth and suck down where his shoulder meets his neck. His body tenses up and his head tilts back in pleasure.

“Jesus, fuck,” he curses, grinding into your hip once again. “Oh, god. Shit– please, fuck, Y/N.” His incoherent babbling only increases in pitch and frequency the more you run your tongue up and down his neck, never going lower than the collar of his hoodie would pull or higher than his jawline.

You let your free hand travel up to thread in his soft, chocolate brown locks of hair. You scratch at his scalp a few times, letting your nails drag along his head. A low moan emanates deep within Jisung’s chest, it almost sounds like a purr. His head leans back into your touch.

“Oh my god,” he murmurs. Every noise that comes out of his mouth is louder than you expect thanks to the earplugs. “Y/N, please– oh fuck , kiss me again, please, oh my god, please, Y/N.”

Pulling away from his neck, you capture his lips in the middle of his babbling. The rest of his words are swallowed by your own mouth. His tongue darts out from his mouth to lick at your lips and coax yours forward.

Your own moans slip between kisses, Jisung can feel the vibrations against his mouth and they drive him absolutely wild. His hands ball up into fists; he wants to touch you so bad.

“Y/N,” he says your name in between kisses. “Please, c-cut me down.” Your kisses travel down to his jawline. “I want to– Fu-huh-huck! ” You bite down on his neck harshly, sucking a bright purple hickey underneath it.

Jisung rolls his hips into yours. You can feel how absolutely rock hard his cock is through his sweats.

“N-Need to touch you. Hah! I’m going insane, Y/N.”

Begs sound so good coming from his lips.

You run your hands down his chest to tease at the hem of his hoodie before sliding them underneath the fabric and up his bare chest. The muscle that greets you underneath it is a pleasant surprise.

The hard lines of his abs and chest run along the pads of your fingertips. He flexes and tenses under your touch.

Jisung throws his head back with a groan, his weight shifts around on his feet. It feels so fucking good . Every single touch to his body is heaven sent.

At the top of his chest, you curl your fingers and rake your nails down his skin.

The wail that tears from his throat makes your heart rate pick up ten fold. It sends a lightning bolt of pleasure through your body.

“Oh my god, please do that again! ” Jisung begs, his mouth hanging open as he pants over and over again. It seems like he can’t catch his breath.

Who were you to deny him?

With a featherlight touch, you let your fingers trail up, up, up his body. The closer you got to the top, the faster Jisung’s breathing picks up.

Right before you curled your fingers again, you smash your lips together in another searing kiss. When you claw down his quickly reddening skin, his cry is swallowed up by your own mouth.

You don’t stop your fingers on their downward descent, you tease the waistband of his sweats, letting your fingers curl around the top of the band and touching the taut skin underneath.

“Ah, hah.” Jisung pants into your mouth. He leans forward and sucks on your bottom lip, pulling it back for it to snap against your teeth. “I want to touch you so bad, Y/N, please .”

“Be patient,” you say against his lips. He doesn’t hear it, but he feels it. A pathetic whine responds to your words.

You kiss his lips a few more times before dropping down to your knees in front of him.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out. “Oh god, oh my god.”

You grab his legs with both of your hands starting at the knees and run them up his thighs, taking your time on your ascent.

“Fuck, fuck , this is really happening.” Jisung gulps. He pulls harder and harder on the ropes.

When your hands reach the top of his thighs, you run one closer and palm his erection over the top of his sweats. A deep, guttural moan is Jisung’s only response. Even through his sweats you can feel how his cock twitches in your grasp.

His hips buck into your hand when you squeeze him. “F-Fuck, I– Oh god– This is really happening and I can’t even fucking see it .”

You smirk. Maybe you should show him a small bit of mercy. Just a small amount.

Leaning forward, you kiss his cock over his sweatpants. Jisung gasps and twitches again.

You stand up quickly, coming nose to nose with him. Your hands come up to cup his cheeks, they’re so warm from his flushed face.

“Y-Y/N,” he gasps. You peck his lips, letting them linger on his while your hands come up to his ears to take the plugs out. “Y/N,” he repeats on your lips.

“Hi, Jisung,” you breathe against his mouth before kissing him again, letting the earplugs drop to the ground.

You don’t linger for too long, you kiss down his face, down his neck, and then you fall to your knees once more.

“Jesus, Y/N.”

You don’t tease him too much this time, you grab the waistband of his pants and tug them down, his rock hard cock finally coming out. His tip is red and angry. God, how can a dick look so pretty?

Just as quickly as you got his cock out of his pants, you wrap your hand around him, pumping your hand up and down slowly.

“Ohhhh my goood,” Jisung mewls. His thighs tense up and flex each time you stroke up and down. “Fuck yeah, Y/N. God, your hands are so fucking soft.”

You tighten your grip and Jisung whines.

“Yeah? Does that feel good, baby?”

His cock twitches in your hand at the nickname at the same time a tiny whine escapes his throat.

“Does it?”

“Y-Yes,” he answers shyly.

“Louder, Jisung.”

“Yes, it feels good!”

“Good boy.” Without warning, you lean forward and take the entirety of him inside your mouth.

You can feel his knees buckle and if it wasn’t for the restraints keeping him suspended from the ceiling, he probably would’ve fallen to the ground.

“Oh, oh m-my, f-fuck, Y/N!”

You’re relentless. You bob your head back and forth on his dick, letting your tongue swirl around the tip when you come up just to go back down and swallow him completely. Jisung’s hands are balled into such tight fists that his knuckles are turning white.

So many different pitches of whines, moans, and groans fall so easily from his lips. Compliments come out in between each one.

“So good,” he cries. “I can’t fucking– holy shit.”

In some part of your mind, you always knew he would be vocal during sex– but never this vocal. He hasn’t shut up once. Not that you’re complaining, quite the opposite really. You fucking love every single noise that he makes. Each one sends a shock down between your legs.

Too often you’ve been with partners that conceal how you’re making them feel, but not anymore. Jisung is making sure you know exactly how well you’re doing.

“Such a perfect mouth, oh god. So fucking warm.”

You let your hand travel up his hoodie again, his abs are clenching and releasing over and over again with how hard he’s panting, you can feel each one under your hands.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he pants as your hand goes up. “Fucking hurt me, yeah, please, scratch me, Y/N.”

God, the way he’s talking to you is fucking sinful. It’s perfect .

You scratch down his chest just as harshly as you did twice previously.

Again, Jisung lets out a wail, his hips bucking and fucking his cock down your throat. You gag around him but keep him down your throat regardless.

“I-I-I’m gunna, holy shit, Y/N, I’m g’na– g’na—”

Now, you can’t have that yet, can you?

Quickly, you pull off his cock, letting yourself take a gulp of air.

Jisung cries out from his ruined orgasm. “No! Shit! Fuck! Why?”

You look around the room while he throws his mini temper tantrum. There’s a small kitchen off to the side of the suite.

As if you have nothing better to do, you meander over to it, looking around.

“Y/N?” Jisung asks, hearing you walk away.

“Hm?” you respond.

“W-Where did you go?”

“Still here, baby, why?”

He shifts around, pulling on the ropes. The red color on his ears is getting deeper and deeper. “Just um– Why did you leave?”

You giggle. “Looking for something.”

You open one of the drawers, close it, then open another until you find what you’re looking for. It glints and catches your eye in the third drawer you check. You pick up the knife that was inside the drawer.

You’re walking back in his direction with the knife in your hand.

“D-Did you find what you needed?”

“Yep.”

With frightening grace, you reach up and slice the ropes holding his wrists in the air.

He almost drops to the ground, but you grab a hold of him before he has a chance to fall into the carpet.

Jisung wastes no time, he grabs at your waist with both of his hands. Through the silk fabric of your dress, you feel the heat of his touch. It scorches into your skin and you wish he would brand his very handprints there.

His lips are already on yours again, feverishly kissing you as if you would disappear if he stopped even for a moment. He takes one second to rip the blindfold off his eyes and then he’s back on your mouth.

The hands on your waist don’t stay there long. They run all along your figure, up in your hair, over your neck, grabbing your ass, gripping your hips, he’s everywhere.

You back up a bit, pulling Jisung with you until the back of your legs are about to hit the bed. Quickly, you spin the two of you around, pushing his chest so that he falls back onto the bed.

When Jisung finally blinks the confusion from his eyes, his breath catches in his throat at the sight of you at the foot of the bed.

You’re looking at him like you’re about to devour his very soul. Your hair is frizzy and tousled, the straps of your dress falling off your shoulders, your lipstick smudged over your puffy, kiss swollen lips.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs. His fingers curl into the blanket.

You straddle his legs and crawl onto the bed, hiking the skirt of your dress up enough for Jisung to see the strong muscle of your thighs.

“There’s no way I’m awake right now,” he whispers, hands grabbing at your bare legs and running them up to push your dress further up your body. “I must have been shot. I’m in Heaven right now.”

With a sultry chuckle, you cup his cheek and let your thumb swipe over his lips. “I’m real, baby.”

“Oh my god.”

You reach down and take a hold of his cock, pumping him up and down a few more times. Jisung moans and fights for his eyes to stay open, he can’t get enough of the sight of your hand wrapped around him.

With your other hand, you reach down and pull your panties to the side, revealing your dripping cunt.

“Holy fuck, you’re so wet,” Jisung whines. His fingers run up your folds, collecting your wetness on his digits and bringing them up to his mouth. He moans around his own fingers at your taste, his eyes rolling back in his skull. “Please, I need to–”

You cut him off by squeezing his cock. “Next time. I need you now .”

“Yes, ma’am,” he squeaks out.

As if he would ever complain.

You line his cock up with your entrance, Jisung grabs your hips with both of his hands, his thumbs pressing against the bone so hard. His breathing is getting faster and faster with each passing second.

Slowly, you sink down on his cock.

Both of you moan out in unison. The stretch feels fucking marvelous inside of you. Jisung’s eyes roll back in his head once more.

His moans dissolve into silence as his mouth stretches open in an ‘O’. He throbs inside you right before you lift your hips just to drop them again.

“Oh god,” you moan. “Jisung, you feel so fucking good.”

“Move, please ,” he begs and you bounce up and down again and again. Each time you drop down, it shoots pleasure down through your thighs and into your toes.

You grab his face and smash his lips with yours once more. His tongue immediately finds yours.

Jisung’s hands wander from your hips all the way around your body to grip your ass while you ride him, his fingers dig into the flesh, kneading it with each bounce.

“Fuck, fuck,” he murmurs into your mouth. “Pussy so fucking tight.”

“Just for you.”

“O-Oh, fuck yeah . Just like that, baby.”

Jisung pulls away from your lips to kiss down your neck the way you did to him earlier. He takes his hands off your ass to pull the straps of your dress down your arms for your breasts to fall out of the top.

“Shit, baby,” he whines before taking a nipple in his mouth.

Moaning, you pull his hair tighter, keeping his face buried in your chest– not that he seems to mind. His eyebrows pinch together, moans vibrating against your chest as he licks and sucks at your nipple.

His other hand comes up to pinch and pull at the other. Each tweak and flick of his tongue makes your walls clamp down on his cock.

“Your cock feels so good, Jisung,” you moan, clenching on him again. “Stretching me so good, so fucking big.”

He moans, sucking a hickey on the underside of one of your tits.

The pitch of both of your moans begin to get higher and higher the closer you get to your peaks. Jisung’s heels dig into the carpet and he starts fucking up into you.

“Fuck!” you cry out, holding him tighter. His thrusts are so much wilder than your bounces were. Each one fucks right into your g-spot. “Ji– Jisung, oh god!”

“Yeah?” He pulls away from your chest and looks up at you with half lidded eyes. “Does that feel good? Am I making you feel good?”

“Yes, yes! Keep going, Ji!”

Every single thrust is driving you wild. Everything about him makes you feel crazy, everything down to the sweat beading on his forehead.

He reaches down and presses his thumb against your clit, making you cry out. He rubs circles in the same tempo as his thrusts.

Closer and closer you approach your own climax, his touch feels too good.

Jisung looks down, watching where his cock disappears inside you over and over again. The very sight of it makes his mouth go dry.

He groans and falls into your chest.

“Say it for me, Y/N, say it,” he pants into your neck. “Say you’re close. I-I’m going to fucking bust, say you’re close, I need you to cum on my cock. Need it s-so bad.”

“I am, I am,” you repeat like a mantra. Your own pleasure is making you feel inside, his cock is abusing your walls just right, his thumb on your clit adding an extra level of insanity.

You pull more at his hair.

Close, close, close. It’s all you can think of. Jisung is enveloping all of your senses. He’s everything in your mind and body and even your soul.

“Gunna cum!” you cry out. “Cumming, cu– cumming!”

With just three more thrusts, your walls clamp down on Jisung’s cock, triggering his own release.

“Jisung, fuck!”

He bites down on your neck, crying out and grabbing you tightly with his free hand. He clings onto you like he would die if he let go.

Hot, sticky cum drips over your walls, leaking out around his cock.

Both of you are panting heavily, unable to move and detangle yourselves from one another.

Slowly, you release your death grip on his hair, letting your nails drag along his scalp like you did earlier. He hums against your neck, his hands finding your hips again, thumbs massaging you over your dress.

The gentleness of his touch makes you clench around him, your cunt still going through the aftershock of your orgasm.

“Jeeesus…” Jisung moans out, a bit overstimulated. You giggle and pull back to look down at your best friend. He looks up at you with a delighted smile across his face.

You giggle and continue to comb through his hair.

His eyes fall closed happily and he leans into your touch.

This should feel awkward. You should be having some sort of ‘post-nut clarity’ where you freak out for sleeping with your best friend, but you’re not.

Right here, right now, you feel safe and content. And your relationship with Jisung feels the same– if not better.

“I knew it,” he hums.

You cock your head to the side. “Knew what?”

“You’re obsessed with me.”

Laughing, you lean forward and press a long kiss to his lips. “Yeah.” You kiss him again. “Maybe I am.”

---------------------------------------

“So J was captured and tied up in another room in the convention center?” Chan asks.

You and Jisung had safely returned to Korea with The Refuge about two hours ago. And, per protocol, you both immediately went to Chan’s office for a debrief.

“Affirmative,” you answer.

“And you got him back, obviously. No problems after that?”

“No, sir.”

Jisung shifts on his chair next to you.

“Uneventful beyond that one hiccup?”

You tongue your cheek. “Yes, sir.”

Chan eyes the two of you curiously from the other side of his desk. But, the mission was complete and everything was done. There was nothing he needed to be wary of. For now.

“Understood. I’ll read about the mission more in your reports. You’re both dismissed.”

The two of you are leaving Chan’s office with thinly veiled smirks on your faces. Just as you’re about to close the door behind you, he calls out.

“Might want to cover the hickeys next time!”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #han jisung x reader #han x reader #jisung x reader #stray kids x y/n #skz x y/n #han jisung smut #jisung smut #han smut #han jisung x you #han x you #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids kinktober

1K notes · View notes

heyhihellosworld · 1 month

Text

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞

Carlos Sainz x reader

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: Summer continues at the Sainz's Warnings: Smut, age gap, six years, reader is in her twenties

Notes: I did a part twoo 😋 It's pretty abrupt and weird but the focus was the smut so the plot got what it got

The days flowed by, one by one in the same way as the one before. It was warm and clammy but you enjoyed every moment of it. The days were spent swimming, sun bathing, eating and laughing with the members of the Sainz family.

Today was different though because you had the house to yourself. At least that was the plan. It was boat day and the family was supposed to take a tour around the water overnight but you had opted to stay at the villa because of a school project you wanted to finish off. That's why you screamed out loud when you rounded the corner to the kitchen only to be met by a tall broad body.

Carlos only laughed as you flew back with your hand over your chest and with a cry you yelled at him "Carlos!"

Carlos only laughed softly as he shrugged "Sorry"

"What are you doing at home? Aren't you going with them on the boat?"

Carlos shook his head with a shrug of his shoulders "Just didn't feel like it today, wanted a lazy day" "Really? I've never seen or heard of you having a lazy day" you grinned at him

"Once gotta be the first I guess"

You shrugged, moving past him to take a drink from the fridge "Alright, I will be in the den"

Carlos hummed as you walked out again to sit in the den with your computer.

It was only an hour until Carlos walked into the den and flopped down into the sofa with a sigh. "Do you mind if have the tv on?" he asked and you shook your head "It's fine" you were almost done anyway.

Soon you shut your computer down and moved down to sit on the sofa next to him and you could immediately see the way he stiffened and the awkward tension in his shoulders. With a sigh you turned to him but he didn't say anything, just sat there for what felt like forever in awkward tension.

You watched him with great interest. Your feet paddling over the soft carpet as you thought out loud.

"Are we just gonna sit here or are you gonna tell me what's up with you this summer?"

Carlos audibly choked on the air he was breathing in, his brown eyes looking at you with wild, untamed fear and you couldn't help but raise your eyebrows at him. Marveling in the way he tried to smooth his expression down in embarrassment.

"What? You didn't think I would notice?" you teased lightly and felt relieved when he gave you a soft smile.

"I-I, it's nothing" he stammered, his english thick with spanish accent as he rushed the words out. "Nothing? Why did Blanca say she had to hit you in the head then?"

Calros released a rough breath, so Blanca had told you, then why were you interrogating him. "You already know?" he sighed, running a hand over his face nervously.

"I of course, do not know for sure until you tell me, but I asked her and she said you were a little in your head" you said blankly and Carlos raised his eyebrows this time. "That's what she said? I don't believe that"

You grinned at him with a tilt to your head "Maybe not exactly, I think she said you had been staring and that she thought you had a crisis"

Carlos sighed, "that sounds more like her"

"So, you were just gonna keep ogling me all summer because suddenly little Y/n has grown a real ass?"

Carlos choked again, trying hard to regain control but his face was heating up and his palms suddenly felt clammy. He had never even thought about telling you about his inappropriate feelings. Too ashamed to even embrace them completely, only when he was far too drunk in his own pleasure did he release the dirty thoughts he had. But that was completely different from having an open conversation about it with you.

"I- uh" Carlos stammered, his thick accent only making it more amusing to you as he tried to find the english words.

His face was red hot and his eyes looked so unsure you almost felt bad. "Don't worry" you smiled "I am very flattered"

Carlos still had his tongue tid, not being able to provide any sentence of use so you continued "I mean it's not every day you get your ass stared at by Carlos Sainz"

Carlos coughed, looking positively distressed and you couldn't stop the laughter anymore. "Stop, please" he groaned.

Your laughter became louder as he pressed his hands over his face in embarrassment trying to cool his face down but without any luck.

"Oh Carlos, don't be so embarrassed it's fine"

At that Carlos looked up with wild eyes "It's not okay! You, you are my sisters best friend and you are a lot younger than me!" he argued and you shrugged "Sure"

"That's not ok y/n"

"Why not? I am not a child, I'm 23 soon 24" you argued back and he just looked at you like you were crazy "Si, and I am thirty"

"It's not that much" you huffed but he only narrowed his eyes "It's six years y/n, you-you're barely out of school!"

"Oh shut up, I am! I just took it a bit slow, I am an legal adult"

"Why are we fighting over this" Carlos sighed "I thought you would... I don't know, hit me, at least scream at me for this" Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you eyed the man "Why would I?"

"Because that would be a normal reaction when your friends 30 year old brother ogle you in a bikini"

You spluttered out a giggle as he looked at you unimpressed "I don't think you have read a lot of teen romances" you huffed "It's all about the friends brother or brothers best friend and all, maybe not... 30 year olds but still"

Carlos looked slightly hurt at your words but brushed it off quickly "What does that mean?" he asked instead and you smiled at him, wiggling your eyebrows

"It means that right now you are living out my highschool fantasy trope"

Carlos snickered at that, raising a brow "really?"

"Yes, absolutely. It was my wet dream in highschool, I mean then you were young so..."

Carlos snorted, throwing you a angry glare "I'm just kidding Carlos, you are still a good looking prick, even if you are thirty this year which is crazy"

Carlos didn't say anything else, just sat there and looked at you which almost made you scared. This had all been banter, of course you found him attractive and the wet dream part was true but still, it was banter but now he looked so serious and like he was thinking hard.

"Was this a highschool phase or..." he trailed off and you couldn't believe the words "What the fuck Carlos, what are you saying"

Carlos smirked at you "Well, I don't know. All I know is that we are alone the whole night, I find you attractive and you just admitted to find me attractive"

"Carlos" you warned but the big gulp you took blew your cover. The way his eyes bore into yours and the heat in them made heat coil in your body, erupting in your whole body as he looked at you like that.

But still, this was Carlos, you couldn't sleep with Carlos, could you? Blanca and Ana would be... like they always were about it but it would be fine but still, the thought felt weird.

Carlos dropped it, flipping through the channels with a satisfied smirk, he had won this round and he knew it all too well.

As on impulse you reached forwards and grabbed his collar, staring into the shocked brown eyes before you kissed him.

If anyone asked you you wouldn't be able to tell how you had ended up here, on your back on Carlos's bed with Carlos on top of you, tongue against yours and hand in your panties. It had been a haze since the sofa, moving hands, desperate sounds and a wet clash of tongues and teeth.

You couldn't stop the surprised moan that slipped as his thumb pressed down on your clit roughly, shockwaves of pleasure and too much striking your body in waves. The rough movement of his thumb and the lack of glide made your whole body rock.

"Ca-Carlos" you mumbled out, slapping his hand to make him understand that it felt too much but he only chuckled before taking pity on you and dipping his fingers down into your wetness and spreading it around before reaching his fingers on your clit, rubbing more softly and making you moan loudly. "Hm" Carlos smirked, before sliding his hand out from under your panties, giving a light slap to the front before retreating the hand completely. You gave him a nasty look but he only waved you off, hooking his fingers on the back of his t-shirt before flinging it off over his head and suddenly you were not so grumpy anymore. His body was just fantastic, you had seen it before of course, you had spent most of the days half naked by the sea after all but still it was different like this, when you didn't feel ashamed to stare and ogle. You could stare at his abs without anyone asking about it. So you did, drank the sight in, memorized his body with the help of your fingertips, mapping his every bump and turn out in your mind.

Carlos panted harshly as you mapped out his chest with help of your tongue, lapping over his nipples before licking a wide stripe down his chest, gently feeling out the curve of his hips and v-line and Carlos had had enough, pulling you up by your hair abruptly and you couldn't help but to pout. "What, why" you whined but Carlos didn't answer, instead he pulled your shirt over your head, discarding it somewhere in the room before unbuttoning his jeans and tossing them away.

"Don't pout bonita"

Carlos smirked at you as you narrowed his eyes at him "You will get what you want, don't worry"

"Then stop being an arse" you muttered, but Carlos only smirked as his hands landed on the curve of your hips, tracing the outline of your panties before slipping them off completely. You didn't have a chance to ame the same move on him before he had tackled you to bed which made you squeal. "Carlos!"

Carlos chuckled deeply, bending over your body. His eyes stuck with yours as he started to mouth down your body. The image of him, shirtless with broad shoulders and flexing muscles, bending over and his beautiful face directed right at you. His lips looked so full and soft as he kissed your skin and the way his hair dripped down into his eyes made him look like a wet dream.

Your breathing picked up, almost catching in your throat as he reached your navel, your whole body was throbbing, wanting him that tiny bit further down. His eyes held nothing but lust and mischief in them and it was so arousing in a way you had never imagined Calros would be.

"Do you want me at a certain spot cariño because you keep squirming" he mocked and you grunted at him. He knew very well what you wanted.

"Are you always such a wise ass in bed?" you growled at him as his tongue lapped straight over your navel. "Only when I am in bed with an obvious brat" he replied with a smirk, tilting his head to the side as he licked the side of your thigh. "It's not me who has been masturbating to this thought, you would think you'd be in a bit more of a hurry"

"That's exactly why i I need to memorize it, take my time" he responded easily and you groaned, kicking your leg out at his slow tactics,

"And don't even try to deny that you have thought about this before" He hummed, giving you a long look and you recoiled "Okay, fine maybe i have"

"Si? Dreaming about your best friends older brother fucking you?"

You gave him a harsh look, this paus was driving you insane. "Still better than dreaming about your sister's best friend who is six years younger than you" you teased back.

Carlos narrowed his eyes and put his hand over your mouth as you giggled

"Shut up" he muttered but you could see the amusement dancing in his eyes as he suppressed your giggles with his hand. "See, you are a brat" he muttered before removing his hand.

"Are you gonna do anything about it then?" you tried but Carlos only raised an eyebrow. How could he be so patient, were you the only one burning with arousal and need right now?

His fingers danced over your stomach and towards where you needed him and finally he looked up at you with determination in his eyes.

His face lowered down again, kissing over your belly button and towards your clit. You gasped out a soft moan as his lips wrapped around your sensitive nub, his tongue flattening over it before diving straight in. Finally,

You tried to stay composed but the way he was eating you out, lapping at you so eagerly made you feel slightly dizzy with pleasure and the picture of his coal black locks between your spread thighs was perfect.

Your hands wrapped around the strands with a content moan. The noise, visual and senses were driving you crazy, heat coiling in your belly threatening to snap when Carlos released himself from the deathgrip your thighs had around his head.

"Carlos" you whined, squirming on top of the sheets. "Shh, just relax bonita" he cooed gently as he unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down his legs and just like that you shut up again, staring like a dog about to be fed as he revealed more and more skin.

He carefully stepped out of his jeans and before he could do the same to his boxers you had bolted forward, placing your hands on the band of his boxers before he could do the same. You grinned up at him as you dragged the band down and helped him discard the piece of clothing in your way.

When he was finally completely bare in front of you you couldn't help but take him into your mouth. Closing your lips around the tip of his hard cock before slowly sinking down. The precum pearling at the tip was mouth watering and all you wanted was to take him down your throat but Carlos stopped you before you could even begin playing out your fantasies.

"No cariño" Carlos tutted as he peeled you up from your knees and to his face, connecting your lips in a heated kiss as he lowered you back against the bed. "Thought you wanted something else, no?"

You wanted to hit him with the arrogance but at the same time it was so arousing how he mocked and demanded.

You could only nod, eyes swam over with need and arousal. You spread your legs as wide as you could as his muscular back made its way between them.

"Please" you whined as he stilled, staring into your eyes with softness. "Shh" he tried to calm, kissing you sweetly, asking for consent before he slowly guided himself into you.

Immediately it was like relief, like a tension going out of your body and you couldn't even care about what you were doing anymore as he bottomed out. Carlos' head dropped into your shoulder, his dark locks tickling your skin as he mouthed at your skin. The groans and breaths fanned over your skin, the sounds vibrating up your skin and heightening your arousal even more.

He felt fucking amazing inside of you, moving at a steady pace. It felt never ending, so constantly filled with pleasure that you could barely contain yourself.

Carlos's one hand held a firm grip on your thigh, lifting your leg up to let him in even deeper, the other arm rested next to your face, keeping him up.

You buried your nose in his hair, breathing in the air of Carlos, wishing to keep his smell there forever, keep this feeling forever.

"Mierda" Carlos muttered as he sped up "Shit Carlos, feel so good" you muttered, trying to move with him to get even more friction. Carlos shuffled over on the bed, getting up more on his knees so he could fuck into your even harder. "Yes" you whispered, clawing at his head so he would look at you which he did, his eyes making you want to sob off the soft heart eyes he was giving you.

His lips met yours, just as sweet and soft as his eyes looked, traveling, discovering and savoring the moment as his best ability.

"Touch yourself" he breathed when you parted for air, you did as he said almost immediately, feeling a throbbing need to get pushed over the edge. On a brave impulse you raised your fingers to Carlos, pressing them against his lips as a sign for him to suck. Carlos almost looked shocked as two of your fingers pressed against his lips but in a millisecond his shocked expression turned into burning lust and he quickly wrapped his lips around your fingers. If having him between your legs seemed like a wet dream you didn't even know what this was. It felt like you would combust at the sight.

"Fuck Carlos" you almost whined, pressing the now wet fingers to your clit and almost coming the second the touch landed but you didn't want it to end, not yet, not ever. Your body felt like a tight string, just waiting to explode. Carlos was close to, his thrusts starting to waver in precision.

"Let go hermosa" Carlos breathed in your ear but you still didn't, Carlos swiftly moved your hand away, replacing your fingers with his. The pressure and speed of his fingers made you weak until you couldn't hold it back any longer and you came with a low groan, Carlos close behind.

"Do you think they will kill me?" you whispered when you had both cleaned up and laid tangled together in the bed

"Ay" Carlos chuckled, ruffling your hair in affection "If anyone they will kill me" he smiled, his smile were contagious, making you smile as well. "They love you to much, plus I think the FIA would have som complaints"

Carlos giggled, his face close to yours, your heart wanted to melt, wanted to scream aagh at yourself for the obvious feelings that were swelling in your heart. This had been a bad idea because this had made you infatuated, made you see him out of heart eyes and that was not possible.

He looked perfect, laying there on the soft pillow with his dark waves coloring the pillow, his stubble had started to grow over the summer, his lips tugged up in a small smile and breath fanning your face.

Fuck, you were screwed.