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hairmetal666 · 9 months

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Read Part One here

cw: implied child abuse

Eddie's coming over for coffee. Not Eddie with Nancy and Robin or Eddie with the kids. Just Eddie.

They haven't been alone in 9 years and now Eddie is coming over for coffee.

They're friends, of course. After Vecna they didn't have much of a choice, but they've never talked about it--that they used to be something.

After Steve kissed Eddie goodbye for what turned out to be the last time, they didn't see each other again for months and months, except for a devastatingly fleeting moment in the Family Video parking lot. And the next time after that, Eddie's pinning him to the wall of a rickety boathouse, a broken bottle to his throat.

What's going through his mind, his body, at that moment is relief. For days, weeks, months, he ached for Eddie's touch again, and even though he was in danger, he relished in the push of their bodies together. Thought, if this is how he dies, he won't mind going.

But they don't talk about it, about them, because Eddie is on the run and Max is going to die, and they have to save the world, so there's no time. In the aftermath, it's the least of their worries, and now it's been almost a decade and Eddie is coming over for coffee.

The thing is, it's not like Steve has been pining away for a love long lost in the intervening years, and neither has Eddie. They've both had longterm, serious relationships; Steve almost got married. But for Steve...Eddie is the one that's lingered, the one that knocks around his ribcage on late sleepless nights, the one that makes him dream of what might have been. Because Steve truly loved his other partners, but Eddie--nobody will ever compare.

Someone is knocking a rhythm at his front door, and he can't stifle his smile even as his heart runs riot in his chest.

"Hey, man," he says, remarkably nonchalant as he takes Eddie in. Still beautiful, still brimming with energy; his smile wide and dimpled, bouncing on his toes.

"Harrington!" Eddie grabs him into a quick side hug, slapping his back. "Since when do you wear glasses?"

Steve chuckles, touching the horn-rimmed frames. "Oh, god, Robin forced me to get them back in '87? Too many concussions." He touches his forehead. "I usually just wear contacts."

"It's a good look," Eddie says. He's very much not looking at Steve, eyes roaming around the Chicago apartment he's been to many times before.

He watches as Eddie spots the display of his own books, index finger slowly slipping across the spines in a way that makes Steve remember when those same fingers would slide down his spine. He stifles a shiver, turns towards the kitchen.

"So, how's New York? How's the book coming?"

"Livin' the dream." It's not flippant, not like how most people mean it. Eddie leaks genuineness, always has. "The book though...it's a little rough."

Steve sets the coffee maker going, brings fresh pastries and a couple plates over to the table. "I can imagine. It doesn't--it doesn't have to be the same, you know?"

"Yeah, if only I hadn't written three other books leading up to the evil mind wizard," Eddie chuckles. He grabs a croissant and tears it in half. "It'll be alright, Harrington. I'll figure it out. I lived through it the first time, after all."

Steve doesn't remind him that he almost didn't, that they almost didn't. Instead, he pours coffee, listens as Eddie talks about how to fictionalize the worst month of their collective lives.

He splashes milk into Eddie's coffee, taps in three scoops of sugar. He carries it to where Eddie waits, still talking about the logistics of Vecna-slash-Henry-slash-One in his novel, but his words abruptly stop as his hands wrap around the porcelain.

"Steve?"

It's only then that Steve realizes what he's done--made Eddie's coffee like he took it back then, made it without thinking, totally on muscle memory, when the best of his mornings were spent in Eddie's arms.

His cheeks glow crimson and he grips at the back of his neck. "S-sorry." He says. "It--is this still how you take it?"

"Yeah." Eddie's eyes fall from Steve's face, his own cheeks pink. "It's--yeah. Still the same."

"I'm sorry--"

"--Steve, I--"

They don't laugh. They both stop speaking and look at each other, faces still red. Steve thinks there's nothing for it but to get it all out now.

"I'm sorry, Eddie." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry I never came back. I'm sorry I didn't explain why. I'm just--really, really sorry."

Eddie's eyes are hooked on the table top, fingers twisting and twisting his coffee mug. "Can I--why? I waited and you--why?"

Steve swallows, but it gets stuck in his throat, and now he's the one who can't look up from his hands.

"My parents got home early," he manages. "My dad, he was waiting for me. I guess one of the neighbors thought it best to tell them who I'd been spending my time with."

Silence falls over the table, and he chances a look up at the man across from him, the one whose knuckles bite into his lips, whose eyes shine with unshed tears.

"You should've called me. You should've--you could've stayed with us. We would've kept you safe."

"Eddie, I couldn't. I physically couldn't," the admission costs him so much.

"Steve," Eddie chokes on his name, voice nothing but anguish. "Did anyone--You could've--you were all alone."

He shakes his head. "Robin knew. She snuck through my window to take care of me, but my parents--I couldn't--" This time the words really won't come. "We made a plan. We started that job at Family Video, and we saved up our money."

Now, Eddie's face is creased with grief. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

Steve shakes his head, smiles despite the wreckage around his heart. "You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. I left you with no explanation. I broke your heart. And--and--" He thinks, what does it hurt to say it at this point. "I love you. I love you so much. I convinced myself you were better off without me, that we could have a clean break and you could get over me."

Eddie's hands cover his face, muffle the sob that slips out. "Get over you?" He whispers. "There's never been one like you, sweetheart."

He slides around the table to kneel at Eddie's side. "Hey." Deep brown eyes stare back at him, Eddie's face wet with tears. "It's always you, Ed. Always. I didn't want to say anything, if you had moved on, but--"

There's not really any transition from them talking to them kissing; Steve slips into it like he did all those years ago, when he first asked for Eddie's kiss. Their mouths slot together, their bodies fit like they always used to, perfect puzzle pieces. Steve's knees give out at the first brush of Eddie's tongue, and they collapse into a heap on the kitchen floor. Even then, they don't part.

Eventually, Steve does break the embrace, face flushed and hair a disaster, glasses hanging off one ear. "Okay, trying to be responsible here. Should we take a pause, go on a date first? Slow down?"

"Nine years isn't slow enough?" Eddie's pupils are blown, hair frizzed around his head.

"When you put it that way," Steve can't help but laugh. "I just want to do right by you, Eddie. Make up for--everything."

Eddie grins down at him, that sunshine beam smile where his dimples pop. "Tell you what, how bout you take me to bed now, and I'll let you take me on a date tomorrow?"

"Oh, you'll let me?" Steve rakes a hand through Eddie's mane of hair. "I don't think you'll have any choice."

"You sure about that, Stevie?" Their lips are so close, the brush with every word.

"Uh-huh," Steve's having trouble keeping his eyes focused, overwhelmed by the sheer force of Eddie Munson. "Never letting you go again, Ed."

Surprise! Part 2! I genuinely had no intention on doing a follow-up, but so many of you asked so nicely that it gave me this idea. Sorry if I miss anyone in the tag list and thank you for reading! @everywherenothere @tiny-enthusiast @emma-elsa-0000 @fuzzyduxk @moonythepluviophile @anaibis @rhapsodyinalto @bunk12bear @tillystealeaves @velocitytimes2 @s-trawberryv-eins @marklee-blackmore @ignoremyworld @its-a-me-a-morgan @goodolefashionedloverboi @starman-jpg @djohawke @adaydreamaway08

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #getting back together #mutual pining #fluff #ficlet #part 2 #time jump #a tiny bit of angst #here's the happy ending #implied child abuse #part one was august i guess part two is the one #we were something don't you think so #and if my wishes came true it would've been you #jk eddie is the one #they're in love your honor #steve's parents are pieces of shit

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talaok · 1 year

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Hello!

I was thinking about this a little too much today. I often read fics / drabbles about Pedro being all sweet and flirty or him being very confident and flirty … I just want to read a fic about him being the worst flirt ever 😅 I know he’s a flirt in his interviews , but what if he’s really bad at it when it’s time to really seduce someone. Like he messes up what he wants to say , he makes stupid jokes that don’t land.

Do you think you could write that?

summary: Pedro is a bad flirt

A/n: I'm genuinely sorry this took so long, but I had to study like a bastard just for my professor to be an asshole

"please introduce me to her"

"why don't you go there and do it yourself?"

"because I can't"

"why?"

"please"

"fine"

__ __ __

It was a relatively small party, just a few friends and some friend’s friends, nothing huge.

Vanessa, your best friend, had insisted on throwing it, encouraging you to “live a little now that that asshole isn’t in the picture anymore”.

“That asshole”, was indeed your, as of two weeks, ex-boyfriend.

Neither of them had ever been fans of each other, and thinking back at it now, that should have probably been if not red, at least some kind of colored flag.

Anyway, as always, when it was V talking you into something, you had accepted, with a few conditions of course.

Hence, the small party and your playlist playing in the background.

“Y/n, did you know that?”

right, you should have probably been listening to the conversation.

“Uh, no, it’s news to me” you topped with an awkward laugh you hoped would go unnoticed.

“that’s crazy, you learn something new every day” Ryan commented, making you wonder for a sec if perhaps you had actually missed something interesting.

Just as you turned to Claire beside you to investigate, everyone’s attention moved to Vanessa as she strolled toward you.

Not unusual, you thought, she wasn’t a woman that got unnoticed.

What you found when you turned too, however, did pique your interest.

A man walked beside her, Pedro Pascal.

He fell into the friend-of-friends category.

He was one of Vanessa’s oldest friends from back when she studied in New York. She talked about him sometimes, but you had never actually met him, which, thinking about it, why was that?

"hi there, how's it going?" V asked

"very well, Pyke here was telling us that sharks do not have bones"

There it was, mystery solved.

V raised her brows clearly unimpressed "Wow, well that's great" she patted his shoulder, as everyone made space for the pair.

Pedro still hadn't spoken, and a match of awkwardness lighted as you all came to the same realization.

"Alright then, I think I'm gonna get another drink" The shark expert spoke, and all of a sudden Claire and Ryan both got really thirsty too as they followed him to the kitchen.

A strange smile pulled at V's lips

"Anyway, Y/n, this is Pedro" she gestured "Pedro, this is Y/n"

You felt like one of those women in period dramas when their mothers introduce them to a man they think they should marry.

"Hi, it's nice to meet you" You shook his hand "V has told me about you"

"H-hi" he cleared his throat "it's very nice to meet you too"

" Pedro's here to film a movie"

"are you?" you asked, interested

"yes, I- Uhm- I am"

He looked nervous, and you had no idea why.

"Can I know which, or is it like one of those secret Marvel things?" you joked.

"Oh, no, of course" he laughed, "It's Weapons, it's like a horror movie"

"oh" you winced "Well that's lovely, but you'll have to forgive me if I'm not going to watch it. I hate horror movies"

"Oh, why?" he asked looking genuinely perplexed

"I get scared very easily, and... I'll sound like a 5-year-old, but every time I watch one I have troubles sleeping"

"oh that's fine" he laughed " I get it" he nodded "You don't look like a five-year-old at all" he blurted out, his eyes instantly widening as his brain realized what he had just said "Sound! I meant sound like a 5-year-old" he breathed "you look- you look extremely beautiful, not like-" he stopped himself before he could talk again, and just let out a small "oh god"

You shot Vanessa a glance.

"it's fine" you laughed "I got it," you reassured him, placing a hand on his bicep.

"so, since I'm not going to watch it, why don't you tell me what's about?"

His eyes found yours again, something sparking inside of them at the question.

"Oh you know, it's about guns and swords and rifles," he said with a smile.

You couldn't hide your confusion

"I'm sorry?" you asked, half-laughing

"y'know, because it's called weapons" he explained, his voice getting smaller as he realized the joke had bombed.

"Oh" you laughed, actually laughed "Of course! I'm sorry!"

"No, no don't be sorry it was a stupid joke"

"it was funny, I'm just..." You mimicked something with your hands.

"Y/n!" a shout from across the room caught your attention.

Mary was waving desperately at you, which could only mean that she had either broken another piece of furniture or wanted to do shots.

Neither of those options seemed particularly interesting, for some reason you wanted to know more about the man in front of you.

However, you also couldn't ignore one of your best friends.

"I'll be back in a second, I just need to make sure she hasn't broken another vase" you joked with a grin.

"o-ok" he nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed harshly.

"get ready to tell me about all those weapons!" you called out, already walking to the kitchen.

Once you disappeared, Vanessa raised an eyebrow at him, her expression an open book.

"Don't say anything"

"I'm not"

"good"

there was a brief moment of silence before Vanessa couldn't hold it anymore.

She busted out laughing

"Guns and swords!?" she laughed, recalling his joke

"Shut up"

"And the five-year-old thing!?" she kept going "Dude you've been drooling over her for two years and that's what you go for the moment you finally get to talk to her?"

He couldn't do anything but sigh "I need a drink," he said "And I thought it was funny"

"Yeah, you were the only one, my friend"

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newoozi · 1 month

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your new friend vernon is walking you home one night, telling you all about the date his mom is setting him up on in an attempt to “get out there more”. he admits it’s been a while since he’s taken somebody on a date, and he’s sort of nervous and half dreading it. he doesn’t even have any idea what he’s going to wear.

the two of you reach the front of your apartment building, and you face to look at him. placing your hands on his shoulders you teasingly say, “wear that navy blue polo shirt of yours. it almost makes you look nice.”

he huffs out a small laugh in response, but the truth is he’s sort of spiraling. you notice what he’s wearing beyond an aesthetic sense? do you pay attention to how the shirt fits him perfectly, how it hugs at his chest and shows off his arms? of course, vernon knows he’s attractive — people swoon over him on the daily, and many times he can get away with not paying for ramen at the convenience store if the girl at the counter is young. but, it never crossed his mind that you thought about him in that way. it was different with you, wasn’t it?

he thinks about that, and you, on the way back to his dorm.

you text him to ask about his date the next night, the curiosity getting the better of you.

how was ur date? did she appreciate the polo?

he admits he didn’t wear the polo, but doesn’t offer any explanation as to why. he adds that the date was going fine until they were saying goodbye and she went in for a kiss on the cheek and he held out his hand. he probably won’t see her again.

you laugh out loud at his message.

when it’s your birthday a week later, he wears the polo to the casual dinner you host at your place with your closest friends. he notices when your eyes linger on his lean figure, and the way you blush when you know you’ve been caught. you’re almost sure he’s worn it on purpose.

#he hangs back after everyone’s gone and offers to help with the dishes #you insist that he doesn’t have to #he’s already done enough with the probably expensive gift he got you and taking time out of his busy schedule to be here #but he’s persistent about staying so you let him #he puts on your apron that has little cupcakes on them and they make his chest stand out even more #you want to pull your hair out your scalp #maybe it doesn’t go far that night. maybe he loads your dishwasher and laughs at your jokes and recounts memorable moments from the dinner #maybe you go to bed dreaming of more.#just maybe.#anyways this isn’t anything like. it was an idea i had as part of that long fic of mine that I’ll never get around to writing but anyways.#vernon fluff #vernon x reader #chwe vernon #vernon #like this isn’t an excerpt it’s just… been on my mind that’s all

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yuwuta · 1 month

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yuuta exhibits such previously abandoned, recently adopted dog behavior. incredibly anxious all the time, even though nobody’s out to get him or leave him behind. waits for you to return home or from school or from work excitedly, just to see you when you walk through the door. follows you around senselessly, hovering in your space just for the sake of companionship. initiates affection in prodding ways—starts off next to you, then a hand on your thigh, then deems it safe to lay all the way down, then slowly pushes his head into your lap. gets up whenever you need to get up, and resumes his position as soon as you’re ready. brings you gifts as a sign that he’s thinking of you, and maybe because he likes the affection it brings out in you, maybe because he likes the gentle affirming touches of a hand in his hair or a pinch to his cheek. rests his head on your stomach or his chin on your shoulder when he’s sleepy, stays there, immobile, and will not move unless absolutely necessary. sometimes he gets surprised when he hears you calling for him, there’s a moment of disbelief as he thinks “me? really? you need me?” but it’s very quickly overshadowed by this compulsive need to show up, to please, to do anything for you, which is why he always answers when you call. he doesn’t realize that he has puppygod eyes, especially when he’s excited or confused, but he does and it’s incredible endearing. very reluctant to share your space or attention after a while, considers that to be sacred and he won’t risk being let go or lost again, so as a safety precaution, he keeps himself right by you, waits for you always.

#atp i need to shut and write the omega verse fics that consistency plague my mind #but while im here time for my obligatory megumi mention bc i mentioned dogs teehee #yes megumi attack dog hes megumi grumbly yes megumi bark bark bite bite BUT BUT BUTTTT #megumi is also used to like... hm........ taming? having? caring for? people in his life and also literal (divine) dogs #so for him yes he bites and barks #but he also... he gets confused if YOU dont follow him around like a puppy bc everyone else in his life has so why not you?#gojo's always been the annoying yapping pomeranian chewing on his arm even if he didn't ask #always in megumi's space even tho he didn't ask but he learned to deal with it #won't admit it but knows that too much attention is better than having someone who couldn't give a shit about you #yuuji is the golden in everybody's life and megumi is no exception #unmovable unshakeable and incredibly addictive even if he doesn't mean to be #and very very attached to the people he cares about so yeah yuuji is loud and annoying but he's also loyal and megumi respects that so fine #nobara is like... she decided she liked megumi and was upset about it so she bit his ankle and he tried to kick her off but she has too muc #pride to get shaken off by someone as scrawny as megumi and somewhere along the way megumi became impressed that she was still there even i #it hurt a bit and she was a little rough it's not like he was worse so fine whatever she can stay too #so if you like... if you dont hover around megumi if you dont pry if you dont prod then he has to be the dog smh #now he's gotta bite for your attention and nudge you and how annoying. he's gonna keep doing it tho. as long as he has to #or until you learn to fall in line and accept your leash too whichever comes first n e way.... anyway.............#somebody's pampered omega always gets what he wants megumi complex is showing......#this was about yuuta right? ok i'll put his tags now....#juju #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader

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gangstagandalf · 1 year

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🌶️ I’m not even going to apologize for this. 🌶️

Here my lovelies. Life is hard, you deserve some shameless Ominis x mc fluff 😉 Anyone feeling inspired to write a fic??

(All characters aged up and into adulthood, 18+)

#it’s getting hot in here #so take off all your clothes #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis x you #ominis x oc #ominis x mc #ominis x sebastian x mc #ominis imagine #ominis hc #ominis gaunt #house of gaunt #shameless fluff #shameless fanart #hogwarts oc #hogwarts legacy #slytherclaw #slytherin #slytherpride

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kaidabakugou · 1 year

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working out with bakugou and waiting behind him until he bends over to grab the weights to touch his asshole through his workout shorts just to see him clench his butt cheeks from the sudden intrusion

bursting out laughing when he does, your giggles making him smile, cursing “you little shit” under his breath whilst he sets the weight back down before turning around to put you in a headlock

kirishima laughing from the bench he’s in lifting dumbbells where he has a clear view of the two of you as he bursts out laughing when he sees bakugou tackle you into the foam floor

#kai.rambles #i don’t go to the gym on weekends but randomly decided to go today and this thought has been bubbling up in my head since i got here #just a little crack to brighten up your sunday <3 #kats.eiji.kai #kiribaku #kiribaku x reader #kiribaku x reader fluff #kiribaku fluff #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #kirishima eijirou #eijirou kirishima #bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader

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shhh-secret-time · 4 months

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rahhhh i’m such a fan of your writing omg and I never request stuff so i’m very nervous to send this but can I Pretty Please ask for something w kyle who’s usually more of a sub being asked to like Go Crazy Dom and at first he’s nervous but then like completely gets into it and wrecks reader’s shit please…. thank u for yr service🙏🏼

Oh lovelies you never need to be nervous when sending requests, I know it can be intimidating but believe me I say this truly makes my day!

That being said, I hope you don't mind that I've combo the request with someone else's! I'm getting a lot of Kyle and I wanna make sure everyone gets a little of what they want! And there is filth ahead so get your bibles ready. Sinners the lot of you.

Me too

Warning: NSFW, Slight choking, Dom!Kyle, Sub!Reader, Breeding Kink, Oral, Strong Language

Pairing: Kyle x Fem!Reader

Notes: Shout out to the roommate who talked me through making a Danish so I didn't have to google it lmao.

The smell of brown sugar and cinnamon filled the air swirling around in your small kitchen. The morning light peeks through the curtains of the circular window in front of the sink, you smile at the view of lilac and orange seemed to blend. You've read things online where people compared the morning sky to painting where the paint seemed to just melt together, and it seemed like one of those days. If you were better with a camera, you'd take a picture just to share it. That and the fact that you had a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and a very sleepy curly red-haired man nuzzling into your shoulder.

Your husband Kyle was never a morning person, for all his perfections and his strict schedule keeping, when the morning sun would greet him, he'd return the greeting with a groan and a feeble attempt to hide. You were trying to revive the poor man by making a pot of coffee, the warm brown liquid was the only thing that brought him back to the land of the living. The man ran off of coffee, you were sure the Tweeks owed half their business to him. With the coffee pot humming its little tune and the smell of ingredients laid out across the counter this morning just seemed perfect. Now if only your husband didn't have to leave and go to work if he could just stay with you and keep you warm.

The crisp morning air seeped into the house and sure you could change out of the basketball shorts you stole from him, and the large T-shirt you stole from him, oh the fluffy socks you stole from him but then you wouldn't smell like him. Because he would be leaving after he got through with his morning routine, and you'd be alone in this cold little house.

"What's with the face baby?" His voice broke you out of your little pout, the sleepy gravel laced in each word sent a shiver down your spine.

"What face? I'm making apple and brown sugar Danishes..." You say with a little smile on your face knowing full well he was going to keep bugging you about this.

"Hm... that’s why you had your lip poked out. And your brows were doing that thing." How did he know? He still had his face buried in you, now pushed into the crook of your neck.

You only hum in response as you focus on the apple in your hands, the knife gliding across the skin of the ruby red fruit. He knew better than to mess with you while you were handling dangerous kitchen tools, so he waited until you finished. Once you finished slicing the apples you gently placed them into the lemon water mixture, it would keep the apples fresh while you worked on the rest of the pastry. Next your hands find the mixing tool and begin to pull together nutmeg, brown sugar, butter, salt, and finally the cinnamon. Because you didn't have a lot of time in the mornings, knowing your husband had little time, you prepared the flour before he even stirred.

"You can't ignore me forever; I'm just going to keep bugging you until you tell me why you made such an adorable face." Kyle reminds you that he's still latched onto you by placing a lazy kiss on your neck, his lips trailing down towards your shoulder touching any skin that's exposed by the baggy shirt.

Every little kiss pulled you further and further away from your mixing, you couldn't help but melt under his affection. That didn't stop you from trying. You try squirming away from his lips, pushing your cheek against his face to nudge it out of the way.

"Baby, I'm trying to make you breakfast. Do you want to go to work hungry?"

"Hmm no, but if it means getting you to talk then I can suffer a little." He responds by tugging you back against him pulling you away from the bowl, the only shield against his wondering lips.

Kyle turns you around and lifts you up so you're facing him, using the counter so that you can look him in the eye. He's lucky you already put the ingredients you needed in the bowl, it didn't matter how pretty he looked with his messy bedhead and his soft green eyes, if he ruined your work, he'd get more than a pout. You expect him to move his hands from under your thighs, but he doesn't, instead he slots himself in between your legs and keeps the warmth of his palm on your exposed skin.

"No where to run now, come on love talk to me."

You look away for a moment, the heat from his hands was almost as warm as the blush on your face. "I- was just thinking about how lonely it is sometimes when you leave for work. I miss you..." You finally cave, how can you not under his gaze especially when it softens as you speak.

Kyle lets out a soft 'oh' that seems to drag out along with a sigh. He places a soft kiss on your cheek, one of his hands leaves your thigh and cups the side of your face his lips aren't on. "I'm sorry, you know getting out of bed is one of the hardest things I do every morning. I want nothing more than to stay wrapped up in the blankets with you."

This is why you didn't want to say anything, it was a selfish feeling. He was the one going out to provide for you both, he was the one who had to leave the house while he insisted that you stayed home to relax. When you first married Kyle, it was one of the first things he expressed he wanted, the need to take care of you and pamper you. It was a dream at first, having all that time to yourself and your hobbies and the only thing you needed to focus on was keeping the house clean.

Kyle pulls your face towards him, his index finger hooking under your chin to guide you back to him. His face drops to a frown when he sees the look on your face, his eyes studying you carefully.

"Hey, why don't we go out tonight? We can get some dinner and maybe catch a movie?" He's trying and it's so sweet, the way he doesn't seem to even mind your selfishness.

"That sounds nice. I'm sorry Kyle." You smile at him giving him a little kiss on the nose.

"Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything wrong."

"It's just-...you're the one that has to work and I'm being, I dunno clingy?"

"Baby you're not clingy. Honestly, I love that you want me here. I want to be here." If he wasn't already smiling at the way you kissed his nose, he definitely has a love filled grin now.

"I know and it makes me feel bad for telling you. Like, it's probably already hard enough for you to go to work."

Kyle goes quiet for a only a moment before shaking his head, the red curls bouncing from side to side as he does. He sighs softly and looks at you with heavy lidded eyes. The love in his smile matches the soft greens of his eyes.

"You're so sweet. Such a wonderful wife, you know that? I can't believe I'm this lucky to have married someone so considerate." Between his barrage of compliments and the way he peppers your face with so many soft kisses you can't argue back. "You're not making my life harder by wanting me to stay, I'm not burdened by you, I promise. Have I ever been the kind of guy to keep that kind of thing quiet?"

No. If Kyle Broflovski felt strongly about something you would hear it. It was honestly one of your favorite things about him, you never had to guess how he felt or if he wasn't upset and was too afraid to tell you. There were moments where he needed time to sort out his feelings or he'd explode, and he swore he'd never do that to you. Not you, not the person he bound his life to.

"There's more to this isn't there? Come on love, what is it?" Kyle Broflovski was also very good at reading you, turns out.

You pressed your lips together as your hands worked up towards his hair, carding your fingers through his fiery red curls. He hummed in delight at the way your fingers felt against his scalp, if you didn't want to risk ruining the moment, you'd compare him to a cat.

One should feel honored that Kyle would even allow them to see his hair when he was a kid, now here you were touching it and even massaging his scalp. You swore if you had enough time, you'd have him purring in your hands.

"I was just thinking about a way to not make the house so lonely."

"You want me to see if I can't start working from home? It'll be a little difficult, but I can-"

"No, no. I mean that would be awesome but no. I mean like...what if we had a little us running around? You know?" You whisper letting your voice drop as if someone could be listening in on your conversation.

Kyle's eyes widen and you watch his face turn a bright red, the freckles on his face pop against his skin. You've never seen him react like that, even before you were married in those early dating stages. Sure, there were times where he got nervous, times where he felt his heart speed up when he looked at you, times where he was puddy in your hands and you could pull a side of him that he'd never show anyone else.

In the bedroom it was you who took the lead. Maybe it was because Kyle was so busy being "dominate" in other parts of your relationship that when it was time for love making, he just wanted to let someone else have control. Being able to shut his mind off and just focus on the wonderful feeling you gave him was what heaven felt like, he was sure. And he was just lucky you liked the role, that you took to it so easily. There was no shame in his eyes, he just wanted to keep what you both did between you two. The world didn't need to know what went on behind closed doors. But the way he looked at you told a different story.

"You...want a baby? My baby?" His voice matches your level, but his voice seems to dip lower than his usual sleepy voice.

"Who else? I know we haven't really talked about it, but I think we're in a good spot and we'd make really good parents."

When Kyle doesn't respond you squirm a little on the counter, shifting in his hold that seemed to tighten around your thigh. You watched as he took a deep breath, and his eyes fluttered shut. Then he grabbed his phone and began tapping away against the screen. You went to move so you could give him the privacy he needed as your eyes caught the little text bubbles being sent. You tried your hardest not to read what he was texting but his hand on your thigh squeezed around the soft flesh, a silent warning to keep still. The way his jaw shifts and the veins in his arms poke out makes you tilt your head in confusion.

"I called off." His voice breaking the silence makes you jolt, that and the way he tosses his phone to the side.

"What?! Why!? I don't want to be the reason you're staying home." You try to protest further but you're cut off by the way his lips slam into yours.

"I've got plenty of sick days I never use. You're sitting here in my clothes talking about wanting my baby. And god damn it I didn't even want to go in today anyway." He growls in between the kisses, emphasizing each word.

"I always wear your clothes though! I don't see-... Kyle did asking for a baby get you worked up?" You ask pulling him back from your lips by his hair, he usually likes when you tug on the roots.

He lets out a small moan, but it's cut off by another growl, he grabs your hands holding your smaller wrists in his one hand. Pinning them above your head against the cabinets behind you makes you gasp, and your eyes widen. This was a new side to him that had your core pulsing with desire.

He didn't need to answer, you got it from that alone, but he did. "You have no idea how long I've been thinking about wanting to fill you up. How bad I wanna cum in you until there's no question that you're pregnant."

You shutter and whimper at the way he speaks to you, his dirty talk working its magic. As the years went on, he worked on trying to keep it out of his vocabulary, but in moments like this where he gets worked up it would slip out.

But it never came out like this, you never realized how much you liked Kyle like this. You never saw the looks he would give you when you were so busy taking care of Ike. The way his eyes would linger with a dark hunger behind them as you took care of his baby brother like it was second nature. Thoughts of your own kids grabbing at your hip and hugging your leg, a baby in your arms and another one in his. How jealous he was that Stan told him one night that he was trying with his partner for kids. How Kenny already had one with another one the way. Kyle wanted his kids to grow up with theirs, maybe they'd be best friends like they were.

More importantly he wanted to see you pregnant, the need to take care of you was ingrained so deeply that he wanted this. Needed this. His cock was aching already over the fact that you brought it up and he didn't have to. You came to him wanting a baby and fuck he was going to give you one. Especially if you kept whimpering and pressing your body against his like that.

"Who's getting worked up now? Do you like that idea? C'mon talk to me Mama." Oh, the way he called you that was dangerous, his hot breath ghosting over your exposed collarbone.

"I-I-" You can't get it out, the way your head is spinning and the way his lips are working, making his mark on your skin. You yelp when his teeth sink in and his grip on your wrists tightens. "I do! I-I want you!"

He seemed to like that, liked the way you beg for him so easily. You feel him smirk into your skin and his free hand push up your shirt. His fingertips glide across your skin finding your breasts, there he gives your nipple a sharp pinch, rolling the nub between his index finger and this thumb. "You sound so pretty like this; I should have done this forever ago.... I'm gonna let your hands go so I can get this shirt off you. You keep them there." Kyle wasn't asking, not the way he clicked his tongue and rolled your nipple.

You cry out and nod, barely able to verbally respond, the pain was intoxicated something you didn't even know you liked. If this was how he was acting from just talking about putting a baby in you, you couldn't wait until he was actually fucking you. For now, you'd play his game, keep your hands above your head so he can slip the faded T-shirt off you.

"I never get tired of this." Next comes your shorts, he unties the strings keeping the baggy basketball shorts up and around your waist. His hands working on pulling them down until they pool beneath his feet, kicking them to the side. "I can't believe you thought for a second I would be upset with you for wanting me to stay home. Fuck, I'm glad you said something. Guess I don't have to worry about going to work hungry hm?" He returns to your neck, but he doesn't stay for long, he kisses a heated trail down to your breasts.

There his lips latch onto your hardening buds. His tongue swirls around the pink flesh hungrily sucking until they're red and sore. Each little cry and moan you let out only encourages him to give the other side the same attention. All the while his hands work on opening your legs to him.

His attention is pulled away when he feels your soaked cunt. Expecting to find your panties, he growls and looks down at you. You don't know how he went from looking you in the eye, to almost hovering over you with such a dangerous look. How he made you feel so small like you were prey.

"Was this a part of your plan? Make those adorable pouting faces and get me to fuck you on the kitchen counter? Wear nothing under my clothes so I can dive right into that delicious looking pussy?" You moan and throw your head back, not just from how filthy he spoke but from how he bit the inside of your thigh.

Teeth marks marking up and down your plump perfect thighs, they were perfect to him. Perfect in the way they felt under his teeth, perfect in the way they filled his hand, perfect in the way you tasted. All of you was perfect.

"Oh fuck~" You're nearly cut off by another gasp as his nips turn to kisses against your slit.

"Keep moaning like that, it goes so well with my breakfast." The way his tongue slipped through the lips of your cunt against your bud made your gasp turn to moans.

Kyle devoured you like you were his last meal, his tongue swirls around your nub like he had your breasts. You couldn't help as your hips rolled against his tongue chasing pleasure with greed, but he stops you with a firm hold on your thighs. His teeth graze your bud as a warning, a silent demand for you to sit still, but if the way he spoke and pinned you down was anything to go off of; you needed to keep pushing. So, you pushed against his hold again, squirming against his mouth.

When Kyle pulls back and clicks his tongue, it isn't until you see the look in his eyes that you know you're in trouble. "I kept my hands up like you told me to...w-what is it?"

"You know what. I'm trying to eat my meal in peace and you're making it very hard. Quit being a brat."

"But I was just-"

Kyle cuts you off again, but not with his lips or his own words, but from his hands wrapped around your throat. The tips of his fingers applied a healthy amount of pressure to cut off just enough air to make your head spin. His eyes narrow down at you as he forces your head up.

"You were just...what? Arguing with me? No, I think you were going to say, I'm sorry I won't move my hips again. I'll keep still so you can eat."

He waits. Waits for you to nod before letting your throat go, then he waits another second looking at you expectedly. As you gasp for air your tongue traces your bottom lip. "I... I’m sorry and I'll keep still so you can eat."

"Good girl."

Oh. Oh. Maybe you were more of a switch than you thought. Maybe it was just the way he said that with that delicious purr. At this moment you didn't really care to put a label on it, you were just burning from the praise. Not like you had a lot of time to think about it anyway, not when he knelt back down and started eating you out. His lips latched onto the sensitive nub pulling a moan from you as he sucked, his tongue flicks over it again and again. He's attentive to every sound you make from the way your muscles flex and bounce under his touch. All but humming when your yell for God or his name.

Throwing your head back, you swore you were seeing stars when he shook his head back and forth. The friction had you clenching around nothing and your nails digging into the wooden cabinets behind you.

"Kyle baby, I'm gonna cum. Please let me cum. I-I've been good I did what you told me!"

When he doesn't say anything, you have to fight the urge to grab him by the head and force him to look up at you. Slowly he looks up at you and the little flicker of fire behind them tells you all you need. It takes everything in your power not to close your eyes as you cum around his tongue, even more so when his tongue begins to greedily lap it up. You mewl and squirm trying to pull away from him, but he won't let you, won't let you move from his hold. Nothing you could have baked for him would taste as perfect as you do.

"So sweet~. Hmm always taking care of me." Kyle rubs his lips against your thighs again, wiping the slick off his jaw.

As he stands back up, he can't help but admire his work. The way your skin is marked with his teeth marks, the purple bruises on your thighs shaped like his hand, and now the way your face is flushed a dark red as you try to catch your breath. You can't quite read what's going on in his head, but he's got that look like he's thinking about something. The way his brows knit together and his eyes flicker from you to around the room.

Then he hums, picks you up and carries you over to the kitchen table. You shiver when the cool wood hits your back but it's a distant complaint as he hovers over you. Somewhere between the counter and the table he's slipped off his plaid bottoms and his boxers. Discarded somewhere with your clothes, you click back into reality as he pulls his shirt over his head. Most of his freckles are covering his shoulders, dusting across the pale skin and down his back. He raises a brow at you when he catches you admiring just how handsome he really is. It's only morning and he's already got you so dazed and worked up.

"Got something to say Mama?"

Fuck you were really beginning to like that, "just thinking about how incredibly lucky I am. We're gonna make some really pretty babies."

He smirks at you, the kind that would have made you fall to your knees if you weren't laying on the table. "Yeah? I was just thinking the same thing. How fucking beautiful you are. How pretty you're gonna look when I finally paint your insides."

You cover your mouth to stop the moan from slipping out of your mouth, but once again he stops you and pins your hands by your side. "No. Let me hear you. I need to hear you begging for my cock. Beg me to fill you up."

It takes a few teasing glides of his cock over you folds and a few more growls before you finally cave. The way the words roll of your tongue is like sin. "Please Kyle, I want you to fuck a baby into me. I want it so bad; it has to be you. Only you!"

"Fuck!" His own resolve crumbles just as the tip of his cock slips back down to your begging hole.

This isn't the first time you've felt him without a condom but this time it felt so different. Knowing he wasn't going to pull out this time was exciting, the fact that he could just let go and take you however he wanted. To claim you with his cum. You're so caught up in your own thoughts you don't even feel the way he puts your legs up on his shoulders, or his curls brushing against your face. It isn't until he finally sheathes himself into you that you snap out of it. You moan next to his ear when he bottoms out in you, the way your thighs burn feels so good.

"Your cunt's choking me, trying to milk me already baby? Don't worry I'll give you every last drop." Kyle lulls his head to the side as he begins lazily rocking into you.

You're almost folded in half from the way he has you under him, knees pushed back towards your shoulders. Kyle's got your hands still pinned by the side of your head; fingers intertwined with yours. Normally his eyes would flutter shut, he'd give into the sensation of his cock nudging into your walls, but this time he keeps them open. Like he is trying to memorize every time your lips form that cute little 'o' and a moan comes spilling out. The way your moans pitch up when he hits that delicious spot. The way you pant and beg for him to go faster.

That's when he shifts, the loving hold and lazy thrusts turn to fast paced fucking. Love making is always there, you never doubt that, but the way he's got his hands around your waist pulling you back onto his cock feels so raw. He slams into you with a newfound force neither of you knew he could muster. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, stars dancing across your vision. He rewards you with his own moans and grunts, the further his cock head pushes past your walls the faster he brings you to climax. Now that your hands are free from his strong grip, you place them on his forearm’s nails digging into his flesh. He hisses but it only seems to push him further.

"Come on baby. Cum around my cock. Yeah, just like that. Just like that!"

You arch your back and give him all you have. Your walls finally grip his cock as you reach your peak. Between your heart beating in your ears and the way he slams back into you, it's almost too much. Kyle finds a way to keep you on the line without pushing you too far. You feel the way his hips begin to stutter, and his moans become ragged. You know he's close.

"Yeah. Fuck you feel so good, I'm gonna- gotta fill you up. Take it!" He groans and then you feel his hot seed against your walls. Pushing up into your cunt, he plugs your hole with a final slam of his hips.

You and your husband lay there against one another, panting heavily until your breathing slows down to match one another. You can feel his lips pressed against your neck and his eyelashes tickle your skin. When you move your hands to his hair again, he knows you're okay, he presses a few short kisses onto your soft lips. Kyle feels you smile against his lips, and he doesn't even bother stopping the lazy one that comes across his.

"Never seen that side of you. I like it." You purr finally able to talk now that you've slowed down.

"Hm, keep that in mind when we do this again."

"Again?"

"Oh baby, we've got all day. It's Friday. I'm going to treat you to dinner like I promised. After that I'll take you upstairs and we're going to do this again. And again. Aaaaaand again. I'll keep my cock plugged in you like this and we'll go to sleep." His fingers push back into your hair, pushing it out of your sweaty face.

"J-Jesus Kyle." You shutter under his touch, unable to stop the way your walls flutter around him again. You can feel his cock bob in response, and when he slides his hardened member out slowly; you feel every little vein like he wants you to memorize it.

"Gotta make sure you're pregnant. My perfect, beautiful, wonderful wife deserves to be a mama. And what kind of husband would I be if I didn't give her exactly what she wants?" Kyle smirks down at you with newfound energy.

It was going to be a long morning, maybe you could convince him to let you finish making those pastries but you had a feeling that would be a battle. Especially since he's already started thrusting back into you. Maybe a few more rounds wouldn't hurt, you could always have him put the baked goods in the oven. After all he was doing so well already.

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popponn · 9 months

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a room of two, in three parts. [itoshi sae x f!reader]

notes: a bday bby chose roommate!sae as bday fic so i gave her one. i too wrote this one sitting at 2 am. it was fun. little warning: a little suggestive at the end, but it's more of a wiener joke from a grade schooler more than anything as this is a romcom. there are obliviousness, pinning, allusion to your life being not the healthiest, and such as too, btw.

Becoming a roommate with Itoshi Sae was honestly a freak accident more than anything.

It was like as if some gods decided they were bored and decided, “Hey, wouldn’t it be funny if we stick some failgirl with the shining beacon, the prodigal mid-fielder of Japan?” And then they pulled up everything they got so it became an unavoidable hot mess. Unavoidable enough that Sae’s money couldn’t save him before pressing the two of you with various ridiculous out-of-this-world circumstances as the final nail in the coffin.

Looking back, it was honestly a premise for an absurd comedy that should have ended up with Sae murdering you in cold blood, in the most hilarious way possible. And then, he would cover up everything with his money.

Yet, lo and behold, Itoshi Sae—stable career, not a really good reputation due to his wording to the press sometimes, your roommate for three years and counting—was laying on your lap whilst scrolling through his phone.

And like a confused poor soul you were, you merely let him as how it had always been. Your focus was away from the TV you were supposed to be watching, but like some trained pet, your hand never failed to comb Sae’s hair gently every few minutes or so. It honestly never really hit you how domestic you were with him sometimes.

“Sae,” you said as you still could feel your brain slowly blanking out.

“What?” Sae asked without putting down his phone.

(He spared you a glance, but upon finding a dumb, flat look on your face, Sae decided to just wait for what sort of shit you would soon do. Judging by the unfocused gaze you still let linger on the screen, Sae knew this had something to do with him.)

“Uh,” you answered dumbly.

“What are we?” you wanted to ask. “Are you like this with everyone?” you wanted to ask too, but it was a very dumb question that would earn you a dirty look. “Are you secretly a cat boy?” you wanted to ask, though probably risking getting a silent treatment for a week was dumb.

“What’s for dinner?” was definitely not what you want to ask.

So, in the end, you said, “Isn’t it about time for dinner?”

You looked down and found Sae taking a moment to stop scrolling without putting down his phone. Clearly just finishing checking the clock displayed on the upper corner of his screen, Sae answered, “Five minutes.”

Most the times, you would reply with a whine saying you were hungry. Then, with a mean glare that never truly meant anything, Sae would follow.

This time, you merely hummed, “Sure.”

(Sae sent you a sharp look. You did not notice as you returned your attention back to your TV.)

ii.

Despite the cocky rich guy aura Itoshi Sae exudes, honestly he wasn’t a terrible roommate. Even you dare say that during the first weeks of sharing a roof with him, he would rather pretend you did not exist whenever he was home. He was not a messy guy and just a bit occasionally unreasonable.

Who were you kidding—he was unreasonable most of the time. Pretty hard headed, pretty prideful sometimes, and would not hesitate to scar you for life with his words. It was just after he started getting softer on you that discussion was possible in the first place.

(That discussion too was followed up with several unnecessary shopping sprees prompted by Sae. According to him, it was so his money would not rot off. Sae never told you it started up as a way to say ‘thanks for taking care of the chore and my stuff when I was gone that one time’ and somehow became a routine that sat snuggly in his schedule during off seasons.)

But, even as years and seasons passed, one rule persisted.

Never disturb Itoshi Sae’s nap time.

Sadly, that rule wasn’t exactly registered in your brain—as it just pulled a 21 hours work for a deadline.

That was why, the moment you entered the bedroom, you didn’t bother to check whose bedroom you entered as you threw your body to the bed. Not knowing, your action just jolted Sae awake.

“What the fuck?” Sae muttered, sounding more than a little pissed. He glared at you sharply with voice still heavy and hoarse. “The hell you are doing here?” he continued at you, who were burying your face on his pillows.

“Wha…?” you groggily turned your head towards him with much efforts. You couldn’t really muster the strength to do much, as you used what was left to plop on your stomach and stayed in a very awkward position with half of your feet out of the bed. But, it was Sae’s voice, so you tried.

When you saw him glaring at you, you tried not to groan and cry. Though, you supposed Sae caught that desire from your expression alone, as he said, “…did you just finished the deadline?”

“Uhum,” you answered, your cheek pressing itself to Sae’s pillow. Slowly, you could recognize his smell around you. It was comforting—perhaps after years of sharing a home, you had came to associate him with it. “Gim’me five minutes… just let me gather my shit together and I will be gone… soon,” you continued, drowsy. A part of you hoped Sae would be merciful enough to agree and kick you off his bed later, because you had no energy to get your phone and set a timer or to walk to your room.

(Sae watched as you slowly drift to your dreamland. Was it some years ago or someone else, he would have kicked you as hard as he could. Yet, it was you and a part of him wanted to flick you in the forehead or pulled your cheek or simply put the tips of his fingers on your heavy eyes.)

A few seconds passed and Sae finally let out a grumpy sigh. “Just sleep,” he said as you closed your eyes. You felt the bed shift as he threw his body back to bed. You chuckled silently and dreamt of him petting you in the head.

You woke up four hours later to a note saying Sae was off on an afternoon jog.

iii.

“Honestly,” you groaned, leaning against the shopping cart with an exaggerated pout that definitely annoyed Sae. “Why should I also eat healthily? You are the high profile athlete here. I’m just some lowly roommate.”

“Because we share a fridge, stupid,” Sae said while choosing between Lettuce A and Lettuce D. Lettuce C and B laid inside the cart, fresh and green, along with the things Sae had bought. You couldn’t understand what were the differences between them—but, hey, he was the more observant one between the two of you.

“Why don’t you buy another fridge then?” you asked, unironically starting to miss the days of instant food after living with him as afterwards it was filled with whatever his strict diet allow. When Sae didn’t even bother to grace you with even a disgusted look, you continued, “Or at least let me have some fries—”

Before you could finish, Sae threw both lettuces in his hands violently towards the cart. You winced for the lettuces’ sakes as you found him send you a look that was somehow angry and flat at the same time, “I’m not gonna let you eat fries and brag while I watch.”

“Even if I buy it with my own money?” you piped up with a small voice. Sae’s face somehow got even flatter and you gave up, “…fine.”

Sae hummed as he slightly pulled the cart towards his direction, indicating for you to push it and follow him. As the two of you walked, you could hear him continuing the previous unserious conversation, “You seriously need to learn to stop complaining about this.”

“This?” you prompted.

“Eating actual foods,” Sae answered. “Your life schedule would make some coaches cry by how messy it is. At least learn to eat properly.”

“Rude!” you protested. “I know my life is not as get together as yours, but it’s honest work, you know!”

“Work harder then,” Sae bluntly chided as he gave you a glance, his steps slowing down as the two of you reached the cashier.

You didn’t bother to check why he was stopping. Knowing him, he would buy you some low sugar candies as peace offerings for the previous argument. It was a habit that the both of you carried to give each other peace offerings after whatever disagreement, despite understanding on both side of how most of them were mere debates that exist to fill in the silence. You wouldn’t complain though—getting something or doing something for each other without a word was a nice thing in life anyway.

With that in mind, you let your mind wander to what sort of small thing you could do to Sae as your ‘peace offering’, not paying any attention to what he bought.

When Sae stepped beside you, you asked, “What did you get?”

Sae hummed, “Something to shut you up.”

You raised an eyebrow at that, “Huh?”

“Well,” Sae added an afterthought. “If I don’t read things wrong, that is.”

You didn’t really got it, nonetheless you still chuckled and gave him a light shove, “Sure, sure. As if the esteemed Itoshi Sae could be wrong.”

“Don’t start,” Sae responded dryly.

You merely smiled in silence and went back to your thoughts, waiting for the line.

(What Sae bought were 3 different flavors of condoms, but this is a story for another time. Though, of course, it ends well, as it had always been between Sae and you.)

#bllk #bllk imagines #blue lock #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bluelock x reader #bllk fluff #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi sae fluff #sae x reader #sae itoshi #it's funny that i publish this and the other one on rin's bday #sorry rin but here u go a nii chan #and i love your nii chan too btw

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milla984 · 1 year

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It's the Great Pumpkin, Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer and Reader get to spend some quality time together on Halloween

Pairing: virgin!Spencer Reid x fem!reader, virgin!Spencer Reid x plus size Reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: heavy kissing, handjob, fingering, brief mention of an anxiety attack, body image insecurities (both parts)

Word Count: 5.4k

This work is part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved

“I am officially traumatized,” Penelope blurted out when the end credits rolled on the screen, “remind me to never watch another Halloween movie with you, guys!!”

You could almost hear Spencer squeak in disbelief. “What?! This is a classic!”

She stood up to adjust her skirt, the one with jack-o’-lanterns and spiderwebs arranged in a casual pattern all over the dark fabric, and the bats standing on top of her fuzzy headband wiggled in different directions.

“Uh–uh, La Dolce Vita is a classic. This is what goes on in the twisted mind of someone who desperately needed a hug and a large cup of hot cocoa with a ton of whipped cream and sprinkles as a child.”

You smiled as you finished loading the dishwasher, amused by the discussion unfolding in your living room; in your heart you were the greatest admirer of Spencer’s ability to conjure up any kind of random information on the spot but the exact moment you saw him open his mouth you knew he was about to make the situation worse.

“In fact, Barker’s grandmother had a fascination with the macabre. She would often tell gruesome stories which she presented as true tales so he grew up with the fear of being murdered in his own house.”

Garcia gawked and raised a hand in his direction, simultaneously turning your way. “See?! Forgive me if I don’t think that having my entire body ripped apart by giant hooks is the ultimate frontier of pleasure!”

“And I’ll never look at a puzzle box the same way! What if it’s a brain teaser from Hell and there’s one of those chattering monsters inside?” she added and you had to hold back your laughter because Spencer’s perplexed frown was probably one of the cutest and funniest things in the whole world.

The mustache glued to his upper lip and the cravat he wore over a white shirt and black vest were only adding to it so you forced yourself to remain serious. “I’m sorry… pizza and a movie from my dvd collection were all I had to offer on such short notice,” you said, to which she replied by shaking her long, wavy hair.

“Oh no, sweet pea! You did great, I’m just too attached to the illusion that life is a rainbow to be into the traditional Halloween gore,” she sighed and wrapped herself in a colorful poncho. “Hey, Raven Man! Ready to leave?”

Spencer squirmed: an IQ of 187 and still he was unable to come up with a semi-plausible lie when it came to hiding the truth from his friends. Feeling the weight of her curious stare he swallowed nervously.

“I was kind of considering the possibility of going to the midnight screening of Nosferatu, at the Silver Theatre. It’s the 100th anniversary so the Silent Orchestra will play the entire score live, have you ever heard of them? They use contemporary musical idioms to convey the art of pre-talkies films to modern audiences, they’ve been widely acclaimed for their work.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “Midnight screening, huh?! Which means you don’t need a ride home… what a coincidence,” she teased, leaning forward to squeeze you in a passionate hug. “I knew it! I saw it the minute I walked in!”

This time was your turn to shrug with a puzzled expression: Reid and Garcia should have been on the opposite side of D.C. for a relaxed dinner at the Morgans’ after a thorough raid of all the neighborhood porches. However, Derek had called just as they were getting in the car to inform them that Hank got unexpectedly sick and forty-five minutes later All Hallows’ Eve enthusiast Reid (dressed up as Edgar Allan Poe) plus a very concerned Penelope had showed up at your apartment, making you wonder why on earth wasn’t she already busy baking since she kept repeating chickenpox called for the best pumpkin pie ever.

“Well, there goes our plan to keep a low profile,” you groaned as you closed the door behind her, and Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise.

“How…?! Is this what they call ‘female intuition’?”

“Call it whatever you want but I’m glad she’s not mad we didn’t tell her right away,” you replied, proceeding to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “and I can think of another person who’s probably very happy for you, now.”

Spencer got rid of the fake mustache with a pensive stare. When it finally dawned on him that Garcia’s phone buzzing during your impromptu horror-themed movie night had in fact started out as live updates on their godson’s health and most likely turned into a gossip session about you two as a couple he squinted.

“I almost bailed on going trick-or-treating with them. I didn’t because I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, but I also wanted to see you. It’s our first Halloween.”

You nodded. “Maybe we can still get tickets for Nosferatu. You’re a terrible liar, so I’m sure there really is a midnight screening at the Silver Theatre.”

Spencer stared at you, entranced, then pulled you closer and in a heartbeat your lips met his - a sweet caress, tender and soft, your breaths entwined and your noses rubbing against each other in delicate strokes. You gave him a gentle push and he plopped down on the couch as you placed one knee on either side of his legs to straddle him; one of his hands sneaked behind you, exploring you as if he was trying to blindly map your whole back.

You felt his other hand on your waist, hesitant.

Three months had passed since the day you both came to the conclusion you were not “just friends” - three months made of late night phone calls from six different States, of handwritten silly notes you hid in his leather bag each time you drove him to the airport to catch a flight for Houston, three months of you hoping things would eventually move past the PG rated phase.

Three months of your self-consciousness sowing the seed of doubt in your heart, encouraged by the notion of whom he got to share his workspace with: you were no Emily or JJ and even if Spencer wasn’t the type to pay attention to details he frequently referred to as ‘trivial’ you were growing less and less confident.

“It’s fine, you can touch me,” you whispered, guiding his palm to cup your breast. They were pretty difficult to ignore, nevertheless he always seemed to steer away from them as much as he could.

You ran your fingers through his hair until you grabbed a small chunk of his curls; Spencer gasped for air and you brushed your tongue over his lower lip, letting out a muffled moan when the heat between your legs became almost unbearable. You started grinding on his lap to adjust tightly against his body.

“Wait…” he whined, squirming under you.

A second moan escaped from your throat while the pressure of his stiff cock hit your thigh but he shoved you away to free himself and spring to his feet, shaking heavily as if he was experiencing a full blown anxiety attack.

His cheeks were flustered and his hair stuck to his dampened forehead so that he couldn’t even look at you straight - which gave him the perfect excuse to avoid doing it altogether. “I– I’m sorry…”

“No, no, I am…” you muttered, because the guilt building up in your chest felt so heavy you find it difficult to breathe.

Spencer was standing there, fumbling nervously with the cravat around his neck; his body language was screaming discomfort and he was clearly thinking of an excuse to remove himself from the situation. It was then that the hidden and irrational side of you, the one that desperately feared he would have disappeared forever if you’d let him go, kicked in and a rush of adrenaline came running down your spine.

“Please…” you continued, placing a hand over his, “it’s okay, really… there’s no way to control it, you should know better than anyone—”

“Why? Because I’m a man and men are supposed to have zero impulse regulation?!”

The embarrassment and shame in his voice broke you: you had sworn a thousand times in your mind to do your best to be his solace, yet now it seemed you were hurting him like no-one had ever done before.

“No,” you replied, “because you’re the genius, here, and you should know it’s a perfectly healthy and natural reaction.”

He huffed, visibly irritated at what he must have perceived as a patronizing tone. A different sort of emotion crawled under your skin, sparked by the amount of tension stagnating in the air.

You offered him a cushion and glanced at him with your usual no-nonsense attitude. “Sit down, so we can have a proper conversation? You know, like… functioning adults.”

Spencer pouted for a second, evaluating numbers and statistics about two years and a half’s worth of interactions. The truth was, intellectual affinity was such a familiar concept for the two of you that talking your way through an issue was indeed a synonym for a positive outcome.

He grabbed the cushion and held it onto his stomach to shield himself from your gaze, though it was purposely focused on his face; you thought it was best to put some distance between your bodies when he sat on the couch again so you folded your legs underneath you, shivering like a cold draft had found its way inside the room.

“Listen, we can both agree this is not your regular, everyday casual topic of conversation… which is why we’ve never discussed premarital sex—”

“I’m not against it,” Spencer rushed to declare, “I’ve assumed it was the same for—”

“Sure, no! Ditto,” you confirmed.

His furrowed brows relaxed while his mouth curved in a timid smile. “Did you know that every person’s intimate relationships follow a script that has been written according to their own individual attitude towards all –uhm, sexual experiences?”

“I did not,” you admitted, and Spencer’s hands started dancing to the sound of his own words.

“There are sets of guidelines for appropriate behavior, each partner in consensual encounters acts as if they are an actor following a script rather than acting on impulse alone. Researches indicate that women are more likely to initiate contact in well established relationships, negotiating sexual activity in developing relationships can be difficult 'cause both parts have multiple goals to deal with, such as providing relational definitions or following specific standards or morals.”

“Yeah, speaking about relationships… I think we’ve been in one since Christmas, we were just too dumb to say it out loud. And to each other,” you explained. “Sounds like a well-established to me but what’s your take on us?”

He curled into himself. “Every time we’re together I know there’s no other place I’d rather be. I’ve never even imagined it could be possible, I want to feel you even closer… and I’m so afraid I’m forcing this on you—”

“You’re not, I want it too,” you reassured him, “but to be honest I was starting to worry you were not into… me.”

Spencer’s beautiful eyes roamed over you and what you could see was all but repulsion. “Actually it’s the complete opposite.”

“So, what if my script says I’m ready to take things further?” you inquired, inching towards him to tug at the cravat of his costume.

Spencer cupped your face and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Mine is on the same page,” he whispered.

Your fingers immediately went to the vest he was wearing and trailed the line of buttons in a slow movement; you undid them one by one, the hems eventually coming apart to reveal the white shirt underneath.

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” you purred while you loosened the cravat to uncover his Adam’s apple. The way his muscles tensed as it bobbed up and down drove you crazy, so you teased him with the tip of your tongue - your lips grazing over the short stubble.

Damn him and his impeccable bone structure: the scruffy look suited him so well it always sparked in you the urge to pin him to a wall and sink your teeth into his tender flesh. You loved how he could sport a smooth, professional style when the situation required it still wasn’t concerned with shaving each morning, almost as if it was an impractical activity which took energy away from whatever he considered to be a priority at that moment.

You heard something flop on the floor and stopped your ministrations: the cushion he’d been holding over his stomach wasn’t there anymore, meaning you got to notice his trousers were becoming increasingly tight.

You squeezed his knee to make sure he was prepared for a more intimate contact then you slid it even further on his leg, giving him a couple of minutes to adjust to your gentle strokes before you felt confident enough to move the action to his inner thigh.

Spencer gasped, surprised rather than shocked or disturbed by how close you were now to where he was aching, and he leaned back to ease the pressure of the fabric but kept his eyes on you.

He gave a silent nod in response to your interrogative stare, so you finally traced the outline of his hard cock between your thumb and index.

He jolted this time and muttered under his breath, a deep rasp in his voice you didn’t expect: you were unprepared to hear your name spoken as it was the quintessence of pure desire and you quivered, the throbbing in your ears rolling to your core.

You kissed his temple as you pointed at the waistband of his trousers. “Can I…?”

“Y– yes…” he muttered.

His clothes didn’t have any space left to accommodate his bulge. You palmed over it and felt an impatient twitch, which nearly had Spencer cursing; it was becoming torture for him so you reached for the zipper.

For a split second the historical inaccuracy of a Victorian era costume featuring a device first introduced years after Edgar Allan Poe’s death hit you - a remark Reid himself would have been very appreciative of, which showed how much you could relate to the way his brain worked. Then you shook out of it and peeled his slacks open.

You crumpled the shirt over his stomach and marveled at the sight of his soft belly, the flawless navel, the dark fuzz pointing directly to his raging erection. With a cautious approach you freed it from any restraint, chewing on your lower lip as you often did when you were entirely focused on a challenging task.

You couldn’t exactly say you had many options in your mind to compare him to but you had done a lot of fantasizing: now that he was in front of you, undressed and defenseless, you were downright mesmerized by—

“What’s wrong?!” Spencer screeched, interrupting your train of thought. “Is it odd? Does it look odd?!”

You shook your head, taken aback. “... odd?! No, why?!” you asked. “It’s just…” you petted the roundness to demonstrate, “I like your tummy so much.”

The way it pressed against his belt whenever he sat next to you on your couch or his was overly inviting and in the past weeks you had to fight the temptation to sneak a hand inside his shirt to squish it, because you didn’t know how he would’ve reacted.

“Really?!” he marveled, confirming he wasn’t even aware you had a thing for soft tummies. His soft tummy, to be specific.

You smiled and leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. “Are you okay with me doing this?”

Spencer nodded, his eyelids half-closed, so you let your fingertips follow the trail of hair below his belly button; his hardness twitched again when you got near, then you wrapped your hand around it.

You both moaned in unison, a harmony of pleasure that filled the silence of your living room. You moved along his entire length, feeling the satiny skin sliding over the shaft, and he threw his hair back in a movement that left his jugular exposed: his neck was too inviting and you sucked on it, the groans vibrating in his throat reverberating on your lips.

You gripped tighter when he got used to your caresses. As soon as his muffled whimpers seemed to increase in frequency you circled your thumb over the tip, spreading his leaking precum over the sensitive head. Spencer was at loss for words, a good indication that he was definitely enjoying the moment.

You were enjoying it too; you started to rub your legs together, your imagination running wild and picturing all sorts of scenarios. The mere thought of having him inside of you made you want to touch yourself but you resisted: Spencer was undoubtedly new to this and deserved someone in his life to love him and shower him with attention, so you decided to put his release before your own.

When you twisted your hand at the base of his cock he jumped, missing the bridge of your nose by a few inches.

“Too much?!” you cooed, and he seemed to come out of a sort of drunken stupor.

“No, no… it’s good, I like it…”

You sighed. “Spence, you have to tell me if—”

“It’s really good,” he replied, the urgency sensible in his tone. “Don’t stop,” he pleaded, low-key ashamed of how needy he’d sounded.

You pecked him on the nose as a reassurance you accepted and cherished this version of him: he wasn’t the kind of man to be interested in the crude physical aspect of sex, he’d made it clear. He wasn’t desperate for just anyone to satisfy him - he trusted you to do it, because he knew you were safe in each other’s arms.

You shifted to adjust at his side and returned to your previous occupation; you let your other hand wander over his thigh as a forewarning, then you sheepishly cupped his balls so you could provide additional stimulation and send him over the edge.

He bucked his hips, a loud “Oh, God!!!” escaping from his mouth before he grasped a fistful of your hair. He was hungry for you, his tongue sliding lustfully against yours and his breathing so ragged you were sure he was getting close.

Kissing him was your drug of choice but you also wanted to watch him come undone, thanks to you, so you turned your head while he tensed: he arched his back and bucked his hips once more, nipping at your earlobe. He became harder as he spilled himself over your fingers, wrist and his own stomach with a feral growl.

You didn’t let go of him, not even when his whole body finally slumped down.

The well-defined jaw and unruly curls falling on his face, now so serene, made him appear like a Botticellian masterpiece. Botticelli would have never painted one of his subjects in such a disheveled state, for sure, but the contrast between his angelic aura and the fact he was sprawled on the couch with his trousers unzipped and his softening cock still in your hand was a vision to behold.

“Hey,” you hummed as he re-opened his eyes and found you looking at him, “you’re too cute to be real, you know that?!”

Embarrassed - yet adorably proud - Spencer lowered his gaze, only to grimace at the stickiness on his belly. And on you. “I made a mess, I’m s—”

“We made a mess. Besides, it’s nothing a towel can’t fix, don’t be sorry,” you said, patting his tummy.

You were almost tempted to ask him how long he’d been saving it for, in a clumsy attempt to remind him you’d fallen so head over heels for him you were not at all grossed out; at the last moment you ruled the joke out, though, stretching your legs to get up instead. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

He flashed you the most awkward smile and you forced your feet to move towards the bathroom.

You washed your hands under the hot running water and silently watched a part of Spencer swirling down the drain; the floral scent of the soap was now in the air but you could still feel his - coffee and cologne, accentuated by the faint traces of sweat on his skin.

You had just discovered something new: Spencer was often oblivious of how good he looked (despite the dark circles under his eyes) and that was no mystery, but the idea he might have been insecure about different parts of his body was something you’d never taken into account. If being a couple was the natural consequence of the emotional bond between you - rather than a result of some physical infatuation alone - why was he so preoccupied with your reaction to his half-naked self?

Your brain was going in severe overdrive.

You inhaled and exhaled a couple of times, your fingers gripping on the honed marble of the countertop, then you dried your hands with a towel, grabbed a fresh one and returned to the living room; the instant you approached your couch you realized Spencer had been doing a lot of thinking of his own, and your heart sank into your stomach.

“Wunderkind, are you alright?” you questioned as you offered him the towel so that he could clean himself up. “What’s going on in here?” you added, tapping lightly on his temple.

He shrugged and proceeded to meticulously remove any trace of his seed from his belly and clothes before tucking the shirt into the waistband of his trousers. “Nothing special.”

His left eyebrow raised, due to an involuntary movement of his facial muscles: it was a flash, a glimpse, the undeniable proof he was hiding something. The sound of your intrusive thoughts and fears got so loud you wanted to scream to cover their noise.

“Your microexpressions say otherwise,” you retorted.

Spencer lifted his head to meet your eyes, mouth agape, and you couldn’t decipher the meaning of such a bewildered reaction. You had always been able to recognize his lying frown, his anxious smile, the suspicious squint and a hundred more variations: you were not a member of the BAU but you were an expert on detecting and classifying his emotions, yet you’d never seen that one before.

“It’s… uhm, I’m wondering if it was good for you.”

Your heart leaped and bounced back where it belonged. His job required him to be the one calling people out on their behavior, not the other way round; your presence in his life forced him to face a situation in which his skills as a profiler couldn’t shield him from his own vulnerability, so he was in serious need of some consolation.

You bent over to whisper in his ear. “It was.”

“But you didn’t...” he nervously licked his lips, “and I want you to. Just tell me how.”

In the back of your mind you were 100% sure it would have been the right moment to confess you’d been harboring a few insecurities of your own but your fight-flight-freeze response was already answering on your behalf, making you freeze on the spot.

“Spencer…”

“You don’t think I can?!” he inquired, still convinced his lack of experience was the motivation behind any episode of miscommunication.

“NO! It’s not about you,” you responded in a hurry, hugging him as he was still seated on the couch. “Or maybe it is… ” you gestured to your whole figure, “I guess I’m a bit worried this isn’t what—”

Spencer wrapped you in an equally sweet hug, his chin dimple pressed on your abdomen. “This is soft,” his hands ran to the back of your knees, trailing up, “it’s so soft I’ve got only one thing in mind every time you hug me and I have to stop myself…”

He stopped talking mid-sentence when you guided his palms over your chest and he finally laughed, fascinated by the feeling of your breasts through the shirt.

If he was so happy at the idea you were starving for his touch and was clearly eager to reciprocate it was time to consider the strong possibility he wasn’t just settling for less. “Do you really—”

“Yes!” he replied, enthusiastically. “But I could use a few hints, you know.”

You knew. “May I sit on your lap, kind sir?”

The ‘are you even serious?’ pout on his face deserved an award; now you were both allowed to act silly without the slightest concern one of you was making fun of the other, high on the intoxicating concept of true intimacy.

You positioned yourself so that you were seated on his groin, your back flat on his chest and your head nestled in the crook of his neck, thanking Mother Nature for the existence of refractory periods. Not that it was necessary, but Spencer hooked his left forearm around your waist to secure you as his tongue glided over the soft skin behind your ear. “How do I start?”

“Step one: make some space,” you tipped him.

He gulped loudly and began to caress your knee, ghosting his fingers along the thigh-bone. You shivered in anticipation and when he tried to reach for your inner thigh you spread your legs apart; he flattened his palm, gripping on your muscles and rubbing back and forth - still keeping some distance from your most delicate spots.

You turned to offer him your lips. “Tease me… up and down, light touches.”

He did as he was told. When he ran the back of his hand over your mound you whimpered, the oversensitivity being too much to bear combined with the mind-blowing taste of his mouth over yours.

“Isn’t it frustrating for you?” he managed to articulate in between kisses and you rocked your hips against him.

You could already feel the familiar and insistent throbbing, accentuated by the fact that delayed gratification was a real pain; you were dying for him to placate the fire his hard cock had sparked in you, so you grabbed his wrist and guided it over your stomach, down the front of your panties.

He gasped at the feeling of your tender flesh, the curly hair, the dampness - too many sensory inputs to process all at once. “You’re so… warm?”

“Core body temperature is higher than the temperature of the skin,” you reminded him.

“So warm,” he kept repeating, basic biology facts lost on him because his brain seemed to have switched off.

His palm grazed over your folds and your legs fell further open to give him better access; you stroked his left forearm and tilted your head back. “Only two fingers now, Spence… up and down. But don’t go straight for—”

You tensed when his fingertips danced on your clit and he gripped you even tighter. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but the sensation was so good you could only smile.

“If you plan to go there it’s left and right. And draw a few circles around, big and small...” you explained before words turned into muffled moans as he put your suggestions into actions.

You were still grinding on his lap, your back glued to his chest, and he took advantage of the proximity to trap your earlobe between his teeth, sucking lightly at each change of the pattern he was tracing.

You squeezed his wrist when the flame inside of you grew fiercer. “You can slip your finger in if you want.”

Spencer let go of your earlobe and paused. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for weeks,” you admitted, the weight of your secret vanishing in the air like a puff of smoke.

He sighed and shifted underneath you; just as you were ready to tell him he didn’t have to if he wasn’t comfortable with the idea he slid his middle finger past your entrance and you shuddered in his embrace. His hands were elegant, veiny, and his slender digits made for playing piano or reaching your hidden crevices - you had no doubts about it, but judging by how he was sitting still he had more than one question regarding what to do with them.

“How do I feel? Spence...?”

Even if you couldn’t really see his face, you knew he had a confused-slash-excited look on. “Hot… and wet, I never thought—”

“You like it?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?!” he asked in the cutest high-pitched tone and you laughed, making you both wince at the sudden movement.

All the words in any existent language put together couldn’t describe the amount of affection you had for him. “I like it, Spence,” you hummed, “and it would be even better if you tried curling your fin— FUCK!”

Spencer wasn’t one to waste time once he was given a specific instruction.

He pushed his finger forward and curled it as you said, gliding in and out to slowly familiarize himself with the different textures of your inner walls. He adopted a very empirical approach, experimenting several techniques based on what he’d learned not so long before, while you whimpered and moaned his name; he was moaning, too, and so prettily you couldn’t control yourself.

“Spence, I need more…”

He nipped at your jaw, his long hair tickling your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, I promise”, you panted, almost out of breath.

When he slipped a second finger in you realized that his arm wrapped around your waist was the only thing still keeping you in place: your legs were giving up on you, your hips swayed to let Spencer’s fingers plunge deeper as your back arched and your fists closed around his clothes. He was pumping relentlessly, overwhelmed by your wetness and the way you were taking him inside like he was a missing part of your own body; he tried to reach for your mouth and you turned to grasp the nape of his neck.

“Your hands are perfect,” you whined, “you are perfect…”

He huffed, his heart pounding fast. “Are you…?”

“Please... make me come, Spence,” you begged him in a whisper.

He pressed his thumb on your clit and started alternating between rough circling motions and the upward movement of his fingers, as you bucked your hips at a frantic pace; your thighs muscles contracted, you clenched around him and you ears plugged as you climaxed - something that had never happened to you before.

You tugged at his hair and screamed his name, before settling against his body once the tension faded.

He kept his fingers inside and he cuddled you throughout the aftermath of your orgasm, planting butterfly kisses wherever his mouth could reach and cradling you like his only mission in life was making you feel safe and protected.

Your self-consciousness awoke first, despite the rush of feel-good hormones flowing in your bloodstream.

“Am I crushing you…?” you mumbled, and he grunted as you wriggled free to lean forward and pick up the towel from the floor.

He stared at his wet fingers with a pensive frown, then he wiped them clean and turned to face you - now seated on the couch with your legs across his and your forearm rested on his shoulder, so that you could play with his curls.

“Doctor, you deserve a gold star for your performance.”

He smiled and lowered his gaze for a second. “I’m very good at following instructions.”

“You’re not bad at improvising, either,” you pointed out, “the thing you did with your thumb…?”

“I figured it was only a matter of combining the exact pressure and the right angle. Technically speaking—”

“Spencer?!” you cut him off, before he could lose himself in his own rambling. “Thank you,” you added, kissing him lightly on his lips before you stood up to fix your panties and trousers. “You can tell me all about the mechanics behind one of the best orgasms of my life on our way.”

“Nosferatu. First Halloween together…?” you elaborated when he looked at you in total confusion. “You’ve changed your mind.”

He shifted on the couch, his hazel eyes fixed on you. “Is that okay?”

This time you looked at him with your best ‘is ice cream cold?’ frown: you wanted to spend eternity with him, not just an hour or two more. You climbed into his lap and tangled your fingers in his hair while he cupped your breasts.

“What if I get…? I mean... again?!”

“Well, it’s not going to happen right now, Professor!!" you snorted, and his giggle sounded like celestial music. "But don’t worry, we’ve got the whole night."

NB: I'm not using my regular taglist for Spencer Reid smut fics but I'm obviously tagging only the users who sent a request. If you wish to be added you can send me an ask or leave a comment below with the request to be added.

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