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kiss-inthekitchen · 2 months

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no vacancy | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

set sometime in early s2; you get stuck sharing a room with your favorite boy genius who absolutely cannot know that you have feelings for him. and also, there’s only one bed. fluff, f!reader (i think there's only two usages of gender markers)

word count: 4.7k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3. i'm thinking i'll do more of these, i've got a few spencer fics in the vault and it was fun to rework this and see how my style has changed :)

You shivered against the cold desert air. Twirling a keyring around your finger, you headed for the door marked 3. You were exhausted from the day and so, so ready to collapse into bed as soon as you got inside your room.

You turned the key in the lock while Spencer waited behind you. It was late, and you and the team had pulled into a motel for the night, having been dragged out to a tiny rural town by the unsub after days of tracking him through surrounding areas. He’d been apprehended, finally, and handed over to local police around midnight. You all had decided it best to spend the night before driving back into town in the morning for take off.

So here you were, at one of those single story motels that still used actual keys instead of key cards. Given the time of night, you knew vacancies would be scarce, so you’d already expected to have to double up on rooms. Gideon had stayed behind at Quantico, leaving Hotch and Morgan in one room and JJ and Prentiss in another, with you and Spencer sharing the last room. You’d hung back while JJ got everything figured out with the concierge (who was just a bored looking kid posted at the desk), and then she’d passed you your key with its little keyring attachment listing the room number and you all bade each other goodnight.

You’d been on the team nearly a year already, but you were still the rookie compared to everyone else. Even Spence had two years on you. But seeing as you two were the youngest, and the least inclined toward the more physical parts of your job– the chasing, tackling, firing your weapon parts– you were paired off with him more often than not.

You weren’t complaining. You’d come to know Spencer pretty well, and you didn’t feel much apprehension at the thought of sharing a room with him for one night.

That is, until you opened the door.

“Oh,” you said involuntarily.

"There's only one bed,” Spencer said.

“Sure looks that way.”

"At least it's a queen?"

There was a brief pause before you both started speaking at the same time.

"Maybe we can go back to the concierge–" Spencer began.

"I mean, I guess I don't really–"

"–although, JJ did say we got the last–"

"–mind as long as you–"

You cut yourself off this time. It’s not like there was another good option, unless one of you wanted to sleep in the car. "This is fine?" it came out as a question rather than a statement.

"I think so? I wouldn't want to– to make you uncomfortable or anything."

"This is fine," you repeated, more sure of yourself this time. “And you don’t make me uncomfortable.”

It was only kind of a lie. You trusted Spencer with your life, of course. But he also made you nervous. He was sweet, kind, always seeming genuinely interested in anything you had to say. And of course, anyone could see that he was attractive. You were developing feelings for him, and in a job where your coworkers and your crush himself were all adept at reading people, it really wasn’t a good position for you to be in. You just hoped Spencer was as oblivious with women as Derek made him out to be.

"We should get out of the doorway," Spencer suggested, and you realized you'd been standing in the threshold this whole time.

"Right."

The two of you walked in, Spencer closing and locking the door behind you. It was a modest room in a tiny town; your standard ugly-patterned, faded bedspread draped over the queen bed in the center, a window looking out into the parking lot, and a dresser that didn’t even have a TV on top of it. You headed straight for the bed, sitting on the edge and removing your shoes while Spencer stood by with his hands in his pockets.

"You know, if it's a problem I can sleep on the cou– uh, the chair," Spencer offered, looking back mid-sentence and realizing that the only additional furniture this motel offered was one rigid looking armchair by the window.

"No, you're not doing that."

"What?" he asked, taken aback by the quickness of your response.

"You're not sleeping in that chair. It looks horribly uncomfortable and I’m sure it’s never been cleaned, and I know how you’d feel about that.”

Spencer grimaced, not having thought about that particular detail. “Yeah, but, I mean… I’d do it for you.”

God, why did he have to say stuff like that? Like you were something special. And why now, when you were stuck in the same room with him until morning? It probably didn’t even mean the same thing to him as it meant to you. He was one of the most caring people you’d ever met. He’d probably say that to any one of you on the team.

Or maybe sleeping in a chair meant nothing to him at all. Maybe he actually didn’t want to share the bed with you and that’s why he was trying so hard to avoid it.

Ugh. You just wanted this day to be over. It was late, the case had been a week long, and now you were probably in for a fun night of overthinking and second guessing when you’d been expecting silence and easy, dreamless sleep.

Okay, maybe that last part was never really an option, but still.

“Look,” you sighed, “I know this isn't an ideal situation but there's a perfectly good bed here, so let’s just share it. If you’re okay with that. It's just one night and tomorrow we'll be back home and nobody has to know about it."

You had to fight from squeezing your eyes shut in regret. You wished that had come out differently. You chanced a look at Spencer, realizing that you’d been staring down at the faded carpet pattern while you spoke.

The look on his face was one you hadn’t seen before, and you almost couldn't place it. He seemed sort of disappointed. Disappointed that he had to share a bed with you? Or that you'd made it sound like you didn't want to share a bed with him? Nope, you could not go down that road tonight. You shook your head once as if it would clear the thoughts from your tired mind.

“I’m okay with that," he said, casually enough that you could almost convince yourself that you’d just imagined the look on his face before. "So, do you want the shower first, or...?" Spencer asked.

"No, I can wait, you go ahead," you said. You desperately needed the moment to yourself anyway.

You started rifling through your bag for pajamas, toiletries, and your charger as an excuse to look busy while Spencer made his way into the bathroom with his things. As soon as the door closed behind him, you flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it might hold all the answers.

Spencer couldn't know about your feelings. For one thing, you were pretty sure there was a rule against dating your colleagues in the BAU. If not, there probably should be. You were such a close knit team, and if anything went wrong… you couldn’t imagine how difficult that would be. But then, the evil and uncooperative part of you also couldn’t help but think that things might go right.

From the beginning of your time at the BAU, you’d been drawn to Spencer. It just kind of made sense. You’d gotten through school at an accelerated pace– though not as quickly as him, the man was on another fucking level when it came to academics– and you were one of the only people who found his fact dropping actually interesting, often asking him follow up questions. He’d looked adorably shocked the first few times you’d done that.

He listened intently to your passionate rants about your favorite films and tv shows, even though he hadn’t seen any of them. When the two of you had discovered a shared interest in mythology and folklore, Hotch nearly had to separate you so you would actually get some work done. It was like you were a kid in school again, and you might’ve been embarrassed if you didn’t find it so funny, if you weren’t so giddy at the idea of a friendship that could make you feel like a kid again.

Spencer understood you in a way that other people didn’t, laughing at your jokes even when they didn’t land for anybody else. When people interrupted or spoke over you, he always paid attention, and in situations where you were trying to add details to the profile he’d bring the conversation back around to you.

Throughout your life you’d learned– through painstaking trial and error– to fit in pretty well in most any group you found yourself in, but you’d always considered yourself to be a little weird. A little too different. But when you were with Spencer, you felt like you didn’t have to try so hard. You could both be a little different, together.

Spencer opened the bathroom door then, startling you. You’d been so lost in thought you hadn’t even noticed the water turn off. You looked over to see him wearing a loose white t-shirt and pajama pants, his hair still damp. And now you knew what Spencer looked like fresh out of a shower. And of course it was endearing as hell.

“If that’s how you’re planning to sleep,” Spencer began, referencing how you were laid out in the dead center of the bed, your arms fully outstretched and hands hanging off the mattress, “then I think we might have a slight problem after all.”

You walked out of the bathroom a short while later, dressed in your usual sleepwear of shorts and an oversized shirt. You’d put your hair up in a bun to protect it while you showered, and now it hung loose around your shoulders. You simultaneously wished your outfit was cuter and uglier; knowing your giant t-shirt wasn’t flattering your figure while also feeling like you had too much skin exposed. Not that it mattered. You were just going to get some sleep and then wake up in the morning and head home. Everything would be back to normal.

Spencer’s in bed already. He’d turned off the big light while you were showering, the lamps on either side of the bed casting him in a softer, warmer glow. He looked up from his book to find you standing there, and the soft, familiar look in his big brown eyes had you rooted to the spot.

“Hey,” he said softly, patting the space next to him in invitation.

You conceded, finding your legs again and sliding into bed beside him. “Hey.”

He fidgeted with the pages of his book, ultimately shutting it closed on his index finger to mark the page. “So, uh, are we okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you answered genuinely, feeling bad that your internal struggle had manifested in a way that worried him.

“Okay, cool,” he said. He paused long enough to let you explain if you wanted to, another invitation. You knew he wouldn’t push it if you didn’t offer something up. You wanted to give him an explanation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“Sorry,” you managed.

“For what?”

“I don’t know… acting weird, I guess. It’s just been a long day.”

“Oh, well, you don’t need to be sorry about that. You’re always weird.”

Your mouth dropped open as you looked at him. “Look who’s fucking talking,” you scoffed. Some of the tension dropped from your shoulders, glad he hadn’t questioned you further.

“Language, please,” he held up a hand to stop you. “I’m delicate.”

“Wha–?” you let out a surprised little laugh. “You’re an idiot!”

“Yeah okay, tell that to my I–.”

“Oh, my IQ of 187,” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. Even that was full of endearment. “God, you are so annoying.”

“Hm. Y’know, this might be a long night for you. I’d hate to keep you up with my annoyingness.”

“I feel like you could’ve come up with a better word than annoyingness, Mr. 187,” you tilted your head where it rested against the headboard, looking up at him.

“Oh, she’s being a smartass now!” he split into a surprised grin, and you could swear your heart skipped a beat.

“You just said ass.”

“Wow. How quickly you’ve corrupted me.”

“Right, of course. It’s my fault.”

“I knew you’d agree.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you laughed.

Things felt a little bit more normal after that, joking around with Spencer like you normally did made the rest of the night feel less daunting.

Shortly after that, the two of you agreed that you should get some sleep, each reaching over to turn out the light on your respective sides of the bed.

You let yourself sink into your pillow, the exhaustion you had been feeling giving way to a hyper awareness of Reid’s body next to you. You were kept awake, completely overcome by the foot of space between you and Spencer; the consequences of crossing that space, the way it might feel, the curiosity over whether he was laying awake too, thinking the same thoughts as you. Even with that foot of space separating you, you could feel his body heat. You longed to move closer to him, to touch him, to let his warmth seep into you and lull you to sleep.

But you didn’t, and you wouldn’t, because this was just an unfortunate booking mishap. It didn’t mean anything. Tomorrow it would be over, and you could more easily go back to hiding your feelings from everyone else and yourself.

Eventually, exhaustion won out.

You woke what could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours later, the sky still dark. You couldn’t tell what exactly had woken you up, only the sense that you’d moved, almost like you’d fallen. But fallen from what?

You blinked in the dark, the street lamps in the parking lot providing enough residual light to keep the room from being pitch black.

Reid was sitting up. He must’ve bolted upright, you thought. Had that been what moved you? Were you lying on him?!

“Hey, you okay?”

“Sorry. Just a nightmare,” he said as if it was nothing. “Sorry to wake you.”

“What was it about?” you ignored his apologies, sitting up as well.

“I don't really even remember,” he breathed, almost like it was funny. “Just having a physiological reaction to whatever it was, I guess.”

You had nightmares too, of course. You all did. You hated remembering them, but you also hated the times when you woke up in the dark, dazed and inexplicably scared. Without thinking, you reached for his hand.

He turned to look at you then. “I really didn't mean to wake you,” he reiterated.

“I figured,” you smiled slightly. You noticed his breathing was just a bit too fast. You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand, leaning over to rest your weight against his side, your head on his shoulder. His nervous system would regulate itself quicker this way.

“You were on my pillow, by the way.”

“What?” you ask, your head jerking back from him.

“I totally called it. You rolled right into the center of the bed in your sleep. Total bed hog.”

“Hey!” you protested, pulling your hand back from his in embarrassment. So you had been lying on top of him. Or at least really close to him. His hand chased after yours, finding you again.

“That wasn’t me complaining about it.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say back.

It was quiet for a minute. You let your head fall back onto Spencer’s shoulder, but your heart raced in your chest.

“Can I ask you something?” he questioned, his tone becoming more serious.

“Oh– of course,” you answered, your brow creasing.

“What did you mean when you said ‘it’s not ideal’ and ‘nobody has to know about it’?”

“Wh– I– Spencer, come on.”

He didn’t give you an out this time. Just waited for an answer.

“I don’t even really know,” you sighed.

“I believe you’re being partially truthful about that.”

“Don’t profile me.”

“I’m not. I just know you.”

You sighed. “You know, sometimes I hate that stupid memory of yours.”

“I don’t need an eidetic memory to remember that. It was a weird thing to say, and it happened like four hours ago.”

“You’re guesstimating. And it wasn’t that weird.”

“Maybe not, but the way you said it was. And you’re avoiding my question.”

You continued to avoid it, biting down on your bottom lip.

“And you stuttered when I brought it up.”

“I told you to stop profiling me.”

This time, he just hummed in response.

“And so what if I stuttered?”

“Stuttering is usually more my thing. A nervousness thing.”

Maybe this was actually your nightmare. Maybe you’d wake up soon and none of this would’ve been real, and you wouldn’t have had to explain to Spencer that the reason you’d had an attitude was because the situation tonight had made it harder to hide your feelings for him. Big feelings that became a lot harder to ignore when he was this close to you, still holding your hand, the mix of scents from his detergent and deodorant clouding your judgment. Of all the embarrassing scenarios that you could’ve imagined playing out tonight, this was very high up on the list.

“I said ‘it’s not ideal’ because it’s not, just by definition. We were supposed to get a double room and we didn’t. Not ideal. And I said no one has to find out because I can already see Morgan having a field day with it and I know the exact expression that’ll be on his face–”

“The eyebrows,” he nodded, lips pursed.

“And then everyone else will get in on it and I just figured…” you sighed. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to deal with that.”

“That all makes total sense.”

“Good,” you breathed. Too relieved.

“Now tell me the rest of it.”

“God, Spencer–” you huffed out, frustrated. He knew you too well.

You wanted to run. Maybe you could go sleep in the car after all. And then ignore Spencer for the rest of the day, and then the year, and your life, and–

“Don’t make me say it,” you breathed. This had to be a dream.

“But there is something to be said?” he questioned, his tone hushed, almost reverent.

It was just vague enough. You could pretend it was nothing.

“Yes.”

You felt like you’d just blown your life up with one word.

Spencer took a deep breath, your body cresting and falling with the movement of it.

“You make me feel better about being myself,” he confessed.

You shut your eyes. You had a constricting feeling in your throat suddenly, and the awful realization that you might cry.

He spoke again, because you couldn’t. “I haven’t always felt good about it, you know? And then you joined the team, and, well– you changed a lot of things for me. And you’re beautiful, obviously, and I was scared to mess up what we have, because it’s special, I think–”

“It is.”

“–and then you started freaking out when you saw the bed,” he was smiling now, you could hear it, “and I thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so crazy… maybe I could make you feel that way too.”

“You do. Of course you do. I feel like I can be my full self with you. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt like that before.”

Spencer laughed, a little delirious giggle, and squeezed your hand in his. You’d managed to avoid crying, thankfully, and you grinned along with him, looking down at your joined hands as you squeezed him back.

Things seemed to still for a beat, the two of you sitting with this moment and letting it stretch out. You still couldn’t really believe this was happening. You might have to tell Spencer to pinch you.

“So what does that mean for us now?” you asked.

“Well, for right now at least, I think it just means that we can go back to sleep without overthinking things into oblivion.”

“I was not–”

“Okay, this time I am profiling you, and you’re lying,” he cut you off, his smile still evident.

“Oh, this was such a mistake.”

He continued like you hadn’t spoken, laughing a little as he went. “I could practically hear it. It’s like, you know when a computer is trying to use too much processing power and the fan starts whirring really loud? Like that but just like right next to me, like tangible—“

“Okay! Thank you so much, I actually totally got it, you can stop now.”

He laughed, and your cheeks warmed.

“For the record, I meant we could both stop overthinking.” Then he shifted a little, facing you a bit more. With the hand that wasn’t holding yours, he brushed a strand of hair from your face, a fake pout on his lips. “Sorry I make you nervous.”

You cackled at that, if it was possible to cackle in hushed tones. “Oh, I bet you are. Besides, I know you like me now, so you’ve lost that card.”

“Are you certain of that?”

“Certain that you like me or certain that you can’t make me nervous?”

“The latter. I do like you, if that was unclear.”

Your heart sped up, contradicting you as you answered, “Then I’m certain you can’t make me nervous.”

He titled your face up to his then, using his index finger underneath your chin to make you look at him. “You’re an awful liar.”

You just shrugged, watching triumphantly as Spencer’s gaze fell to your lips.“It’s been working out pretty well for me so far.”

“I guess it has,” he murmured, closing the distance between you and finally kissing you.

After so many months of imagining (and berating yourself for imagining) what Spencer’s lips might feel like on yours, you weren’t disappointed.

For once you didn’t have to think at all, the chemistry between you and him drowning out everything else. His hand fell to your waist, and yours moved to the curve of his jaw, pulling him closer as his mouth moved against yours. Your teeth grazed his bottom lip and he gasped, and your skin felt like it was lit up from the inside.

You pulled away to breathe, and to process, and to try and stop your head from swimming. You were rewarded with the awestruck look in Spencer’s eyes as he opened them again.

“Okay, was it just me, or–”

“That was crazy,” you breathed.

“Crazy,” he agreed.

“Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think we’re getting back to sleep tonight.” Your eyes widened at the implication of saying those words at that time. “Not, like, in the sex way, though,” you hurried to correct yourself. “I need like, 4-5 business days to process things first, and I– well, I just meant, like– you know?”

Spencer was nodding at you even as his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Can I still kiss you during those 4-5 business days?”

“Oh, yeah,” you said, sounding breathless.

“Cool,” he agreed. “You seem really nervous, by the way.”

“Well, you kissed me.”

“I did.”

“How were you not nervous?” you breathed.

“Oh, I was. Your reaction is making me feel a whole lot better about it though.”

You scoffed half-heartedly. “I do so much for you.”

“You do,” he replied earnestly, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We could lie back down, if you want. Like we were before I so rudely woke you up.”

“Yeah, I’m super mad about that,” you joked. “Anyway, I was asleep for that, so you’ll have to show me what I was doing.”

He seemed all too pleased to do so. “Okay, so you were basically like,” he leaned back against the pillows, pulling you down with him, moving his hand to the side of your head to guide you to the place where his shoulder met his chest, “Like that, and then your arm was over here,” he picked up your arm and guided it around his waist.

“Oh god, that’s so embarrassing,” you said, realizing that he must’ve been awake when you’d done it.

“Yeah, I know. Really terrible time for me.”

“I can imagine. I can scoot back over to my side of the bed, just say the word.”

“Don’t you dare,” he said, squeezing you closer.

You trailed your fingers up and down his waist, feeling more content than you had in ages.

“I can’t believe you’d suggest that I would have sex with you right after confessing my feelings. Like, take me to dinner first at least.”

“Oh my god,” you half-exclaimed, half-laughed. You felt your cheeks heat up again, grateful it was still too dark in the room to be noticeable. “You’re right, I’m so sorry. How’s next Friday?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. My work schedule is kind of unpredictable. I’ll have to get back to you.”

“You’re such an ass.”

A few short hours later, you were back on the jet with the rest of the team. You were lying on the couch while Spencer sat in a seat one row up and across from you, both to avoid suspicion and so you could try to catch up on sleep. He sat facing away from you, but with the angle you were at you could still see one side of his face if you tilted your head up.

You were just beginning to fade when your phone buzzed next to you.

Spencer: I have to tell you something, coworker to coworker.

You looked up to see him blank faced, looking down at the book in his right hand, holding his phone in the left.

You text back: okay?

Spencer: My crush asked me out last night.

You’re exceptionally glad no one was sitting close enough to see you. Spencer had caught you off guard, and you felt an infatuated grin spreading across your face.

You: what did u say?

Spencer: Wanted to get your opinion first.

You: i think u should say yes, obviously.

Spencer: Idk, I’m kinda nervous. I think she’s trying to jump me on the first date.

You just barely managed to refrain from laughing out loud. You looked up at Spencer again, and he’s looking at his phone as if it contained nothing more than a weather report. You’re astounded.

You: one could argue that technically you’ve already slept together, so there’s less to be nervous abt

You saw his eyebrows raise just slightly. Success.

Spencer: You’re trouble, you know that? See you Friday night

You: i promise i won’t try to jump you

Spencer: Oh

Spencer: I fear I may have shot myself in the foot here

You: i wouldn’t worry about it too much

Spencer: That’s rich coming from you

You rolled your eyes even though he couldn't see you.

You: whatever. wear something sexy ;)

You heard him blow air out of his nose, an almost laugh.

“Something funny?” you heard Derek ask.

Shit.

“This book contains a historical inaccuracy that was proven incorrect eight years before its publishing date,” Spencer replied without missing a beat.

Unbelievable.

You: you’re unhinged :*

Spencer: Go to sleep already, would you?

You: coworker to coworker? my crush keeps interrupting my beauty sleep

Spencer: He’s probably worried about the worldwide implications of you becoming any more beautiful

You: i guess that’s why the universe gave you insomnia :( too pretty

Spencer: Stop flirting with me

You: bc you’re too delicate??

Spencer: Yes

You snapped your phone shut, feeling dazed. You watched the clouds go by in the window across from you, and you couldn’t help letting your gaze slide over to Spencer. He’d put his phone down as well, concentrating on his book. Or pretending to concentrate. He was turning the pages much too slowly for his actual pace.

You: you have got to do a better job of fake reading than that

You heard a page turn.

You looked up again to see the ghost of a smile threatening the corner of his mouth.

This was going to be fun. And also, you were so screwed.

#so they have flip phones but i didnt want to write everything in shorthand so theyre just really fast at it. go with it #spencer texts with perfect grammar bc of course he does #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #my fics

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cupid-styles · 3 months

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late night talking 2

here is the long awaited part two to late night talking (aka cam girl!yn and nerdrry)!!!! I v much hope you guys like this part as much as you liked the first :)))) enjoy!

read part one here

word count: 7.5k

content warnings: smut (oral - f receiving, fingering, dirty talk, riding, mentions of squirting, size kink, daddy kink, mentions of sex toys and bondage, minor edging)

patreon

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

If Harry were to describe the joy he feels when listening to Y/N discuss her day with him over the phone, he's sure he would never shut up.

At first, he'd been nervous about what they would talk about. Did she expect them to have dirty, filth-filled conversations? What if she charged him for it? Harry would undoubtedly shell out the money, too embarrassed to explain he had different expectations, but it's not what he wanted — not by a long-shot.

Admittedly, the first five or 10 minutes had been rocky. After chatting exclusively through direct messaging on Y/N's cam site, it was a little difficult to get used to transferring those conversations to the phone. She was used to relying on witty jokes with emojis, he was accustomed to having more time to thoughtfully write out responses. Talking one-on-one limited both of those things, ridding them of their comfort blankets. But once the ice melted, names were exchanged, and Y/N's breathy giggle sounded through the receiver, Harry was a goner.

"Wait, so how is it that we live in the same city?" Harry questions as he pulls at a loose thread on one of the throw pillows on his couch. "The odds of that are like... slim to none."

"Well, you'd know, you have a degree in computer science," Y/N replies teasingly. "I'm pretty sure the homepage tries to cater to your location. It's kind of weird and freaky if you think about it for too long."

"That's... kind of horrifying."

She hums, "I know. But if I hide my feed from the homepage, I'd have to solely rely on my regulars."

Harry doesn't want to be a dick so he doesn't say anything in response, but he wishes she could. He despises the fact that there are local creeps watching her every night, even if that includes him. Quickly, he tries to shove down his possessive nature, knowing he doesn't quite have anything to be jealous of — she's her own person.

"Don't worry, I have a baseball bat by the door." she jokes, but it doesn't land the way she intends. Her mouth twists into a wince when Harry remains silent on the other side.

"Just want you to be safe, hm?" he says gently, "I know you can take care of yourself, but... you know what I mean, don't you?"

"Are you trying to say that you care about me?"

He huffs, a surprised puff of air leaving his lungs.

"Yes," he finally forces out, anxiety beginning to claw at his insides, "Of course I do."

A beat. The nerves have grown nasty fangs and nails, but then—

"I care about you, too."

Harry has to squeeze the pillow so a girlish squeak doesn't escape his mouth.

. . .

From: Y/N🎀

my boss made me stay late today so I don't think ill make it home for our 6 pm phone call :( can I call you later?

Harry tries not to pout as his eyes scan over Y/N's text for a second time. Ever since their initial phone call a few weeks ago, they unintentionally set up a daily schedule where they'd chat as soon as she got home from work. Usually, they spoke up until she started her stream, but she took Fridays off since there weren't as many people logging on to watch. All day, he had been looking forward to getting her for a few hours without any interruptions.

(She often keeps him on the phone as she eats dinner or picks out a lacy set of lingerie. The latter makes him feel special, like he has some sort of behind-the-scenes look of what happens prior to her logging on. It also happens to thicken up his cock a fair amount.)

To: Y/N🎀

I'm sorry he's doing that to you on a Friday. You're right, he's a dick.

Call me whenever you're able. I'll be around.

In an ideal world, maybe Harry could pick them up some dinner and he could meet her at the office, so she could eat while she finished work. Or, he could even take her out to a nice restaurant after — but beyond the very obvious restrictions of their relationship (or maybe it was just a friendship with virtual benefits?), Harry was deeply insecure. They were both lonely people, he knew, and they were simply reaping the benefits until someone better came along for her.

His phone buzzes, ripping him from his self-deprecating thoughts: thank you<3 you're the sweetest, staying in on a friday just so you can talk to little old me!!! x

A snort leaves him. He can't remember the last time he had actual social plans that involved leaving the house on the weekend. Friday nights were almost always reserved for playing video games with his friends, baking a new recipe he found on Pinterest, or, that one time where he tried to teach himself how to knit a little sweater for Beatrice.

(It went terribly and Beatrice ended up having more fun with the ball of yarn anyway.)

The thing is, Harry knows he's a nerd. He's pretty much the picture of a dorky, grown-up introvert, with his thick-rimmed glasses, computer engineering job, cat, and pathetically lonely social life. How on earth could Y/N not see that?

(Maybe she does, and she's just taking advantage of him. He doesn't foresee that being a possibility, but his anxious insecurities take him there every now and then.)

He spends his time moseying around his apartment while he waits for her to get home. By the time he's done baking espresso brownies and tidying up the kitchen, making sure to place the tray high enough so Beatrice can't get into them, he hears his phone vibrating on the countertop. A jolt of energy and happiness zips through him when he sees her name splayed across his screen, immediately pressing answer and putting her on speaker.

"Hiiii," she sings into the receiver, and he can already tell she's traipsing around her own home, "You picked up fast."

"Told you I'd be around whenever you wanted to talk."

"You're too good to me," she says, though he has to lower the phone the second he hears noisy crunching on the other line, "Sorry, I literally just got in. I'm eating Cheetos for dinner."

"I thought you were gonna order in from that new stir fry place," Harry replies, thinking back to her mulling over the idea last night.

"I was, but then I had to work until 7 pm, which meant I didn't get home until... what time is it? Oh, it's already 8:15! There goes my entire Friday night!"

He smiles gently at her dramatics, though he understands. "You can still order, babe. They don't close until 10."

"But I just opened this bag of Cheetos."

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. "You can use one of those handy clips to close it so they don't go stale."

"I don't have any of those."

Harry shakes his head as his eyes scan over the small bowl of them on his kitchen countertop.

"Put the Cheetos down, Y/N. Order the stir fry. You deserve it."

A sigh passes through her lips. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. You had the longest week and you just had to work after hours on a Friday."

"Alright, fine."

He hears the light tapping of her fingers against the phone screen, which only leads him to believe that she's actually doing what he's requested of her for once. He busies himself with cozying up on the couch, throwing a blanket over his lap as Beatrice jumps up onto the cushion next to him.

"Okay, done," she says a few moments later. "So, speaking of deserving things. I got you something."

"You got me something?" Harry asks with furrowed brows.

"Mhmm. I saw it online and wanted you to have it— well, it's for both of us, actually, but that's besides the fact. Anyway, I need your address so I can send it to you."

Harry's brain begins to glow with possibilities, completely unsure of what she could possibly have gotten him.

"Is this just an excuse to stalk me?" he jokes, making her snort.

"No, Harry. Send me your address, please. It's a present."

He quickly removes the phone from his ear, pressing the speaker button and opening up their text thread.

"Fine, I'm sending it to you now," he murmurs, typing out his address, "But it better not be something weird."

Y/N snorts and for a moment, it's quiet. Harry's used to silent lulls in their conversations, especially because they'll sometimes be on the phone together for hours. He occupies himself with gently petting Beatrice's coat, making a mental note to brush her orange fur out after they hang up tonight.

"Harry?"

Y/N's voice rings softly through the receiver. Focused on scratching the top of Beatrice's head, he lets out a distracted hum, assuming she's just making sure he's still there.

"We live 10 minutes from each other."

It takes him a moment to digest what she's just told him. At first, he thinks it's a joke. There's no way the girl he's been watching every night for the past few months lives so close to him. But when she doesn't follow it up with a "just kidding!", he realizes she may be telling the truth.

"What?" he finally chokes out, his posture straightening slightly. Could they have run into each other without evening noticing it? Passing by one another on a busy street, Y/N walking home from work while Harry stops at the grocery store?

"Yeah," she breathes out in disbelief, "You live on Beekman, right? I'm three streets over."

"This is insane," he blurts out. "You're not messing with me?"

"I wouldn't do that."

Harry's unsure if the conversation has taken a turn of shock or tension. There's an obvious question lingering between them, but he's too scared to bring it up. He's too scared to even think about it.

Meeting in person... it seemed like something they'd never get close to doing. Harry was never positive about where their dynamic would lead, but in the back of his head, he did fret about the lack of endgame. He assumed she would get bored of him one day — why wouldn't she, when she's this gorgeous, fun, care-free person, and he's the complete opposite?

"Are you okay?"

Her question rips him from his cycling thoughts. Beatrice climbs into his lap, absorbing the anxiety radiating from his chest. He clears his throat.

"Yeah. Sorry. I'm just... that's crazy."

"It is," she agrees. "I guess... well, if you're comfortable with it, maybe I could bring you your gift sometime. Instead of mailing it."

Harry and Y/N both know that this discussion is no longer about whatever thing she bought with him in mind. It's a proposal — a leap of faith that she's leaving in Harry's court, allowing him to call the shots. It's a terrifying place to be.

"Would you want that?" he asks breathily, nibbling on his bottom lip.

"I would," she replies almost instantly. "But only if you want that."

She's making the jump, and she's doing it whether he's ballsy enough or not. If he says no, she'll continue living her life as the happy-go-lucky person she is. It's scary — it's so, so scary for him, because for once, he doesn't know how things will end up. He can't calculate the answer. He can't premeditate or plan it out.

But maybe she's worth it. So he jumps, too.

"Are you free tomorrow?"

. . .

Y/N thinks she may throw up.

She's contemplated every excuse to get out of tonight — not because she doesn't want to meet Harry, but because she's never, ever done this before. It's entirely out of her comfort zone, understandably. Was she being insane, meeting up with one of her subscribers? She doesn't think Harry gives off serial killer vibes, and he's more than just someone subscribed to her stream, but was it possible that he would put in months of work, talking to her on the phone every day and listening to her chatter on and on about her day, just to do something awful?

What if he expected... more? From her, not just physically, but as a person, too. They still haven't revealed their faces to one another, so she knows tonight is bound to be a lot. Which brings her back to her previous point: Was there an excuse she could blurt out to cancel?

She thinks about it all day, barely getting any work done. Though she and Harry typically exchange far more texts during the day, the tension and nervousness between them both is apparent. He messaged her good morning and they spoke a bit when she got to work, but neither of them seemed as talkative as usual.

Finally, when it's time to head home, she's somewhat relying on Sam to ask her to stay back and work later — but of course, the one day that she wants him to, he left early, calling an end to his day hours ago. With a grumble, Y/N begins the short trek back to her place.

Last night, when she was apparently much higher on courage, she and Harry had decided that 7 would be a good time to meet up. He offered to go to hers if it made it more comfortable, or even getting dinner or something in public. Y/N appreciated it, but she didn't find it necessary — she wanted to be able to leave at a moment's notice if she needed to, plus, on the bright side, she really wanted to meet his cat, Beatrice.

When she gets home, she has 30 minutes before she has to be over at his. She decides to change her outfit, nitpicking at her wardrobe and figuring out what's the best way to say, "I've really enjoyed our virtual conversations over the past few months and I have a crush on you, but maybe not because we've never met before. Also, if you could just forget how we *technically* met so we could attempt to have a real shot at a relationship, maybe, that could be cool."

Sighing, she lays back against her bed. This is crazy, right?

This has to be crazy.

. . .

Harry thinks he may have lost any and all inklings of sanity.

"Beatrice, is this crazy?" he wonders aloud to his snuggly cat. She's currently tucked into her favorite corner of the couch, nuzzling the pink sherpa blanket his mom bought him for Christmas last year.

He logged off from work an hour early today to give him some time to clean up his apartment, wanting to make sure it was spotless for Y/N. They halfway decided that they'd eat dinner together, but he wasn't sure if she had any dietary preferences or allergies, so he figured getting take-out from the local Chinese place they both like would be the best option. (How awful would that be, if he tried to cook her a romantic meal and instead gave her an allergic reaction? Harry shudders at the mere thought of it.)

He spends far too long standing in front of his closet with a sleepy Beatrice in his arms, trying to figure out the best outfit to wear. Typically, he's in a pair of sweats or athletic shorts at this time, but that felt too casual.

"What about these?" he asks Beatrice, grabbing a pair of his favorite mustard yellow trousers. "You're right, they're too much. We want to appear cool. Right?"

She simply meows in response.

He hands are shaking when his phone dings, signifying an incoming text from Y/N: on my way!! see you soon :). He lets out a nervous yelp, pulling at his hair as he throws himself into his closet. Based on what she told him last night about living close by, she'll be here in around 10 minutes, so he settles on a cozy sweatshirt and a pair of loose fitting jeans.

That'll be fine, right?

God, he needs to find someone else to talk to besides himself and his cat.

He's pulling on a pair of his favorite wool socks, haphazardly jogging between the bathroom and his room to finish getting ready. He applies an extra coat of deodorant (just in case!), spritzes on some cologne (his sister got it for him a few years back, she said it seemed like 'his scent', whatever that meant), and runs a hand through his messy curls, trying to make his hair look sort of styled. To this day, he's not really sure how to style it, instead just letting it air dry every time he showers.

His eye catches the time as he traipses back downstairs. It's 6:58. He wonders if she'll be early or late. What if she doesn't come at all? What if she just decides to stand him up, because... because this is insane. This is insane behavior.

And then... his phone dings.

here i think!! sorry im really bad w directions and I walked here lol

. . .

Every single part of her anxious brain is telling Y/N to turn around and go back home. This a terrible idea, she frets, picking at her nails and swallowing tightly, Turn around. Turn around, turn around, turn around—

"Y/N?"

Her head snaps up. In complete honesty, she assumed she was standing in front of the wrong townhouse — she really is bad with directions, so she's slightly shocked when the door in front of her opens, revealing a very attractive man.

"Harry...?" Y/N asks, testing out the way it feels to call him his name in person. With a slightly bashful facial expression, he nods.

"Do you— did you want to come in?"

She nods, suddenly feeling how cold the evening is. The later hour brought a chill to the air, one that feels like it has a promise of snow. She hopes she's wrong since she really doesn't want to walk home in freezing temperatures, but thoughts of the weather are ripped from her mind the second Harry politely guides her in.

She toes her boots off at the entryway, gently placing them next to his own pair of Adidas sneakers. She can feel him behind her, only because the front hall is too small for someone to pass by — but if she's being honest, she doesn't think she minds his hovering warmth. All she wants to do is turn around and analyze him.

She doesn't know what to do — she's being awkward, they both are — so she turns around, not wanting to just welcome herself into his home.

It turns out, he's far closer than she had originally anticipated. Nearly bumping into his chest, she gasps in surprise, lifting a hand to her heart like she's an actress in a bad scary movie. It makes Harry chuckle breathily, melting the ice ever so slightly.

"You alright?" he asks, "Sorry, it's a bit small in here. It's just me and Beatrice, so I don't need much room."

"Beatrice!" Y/N remembers with wide eyes. "Where is she?"

Harry hums, taking the opportunity to brush past Y/N. She swallows, inhaling his spicy vanilla scent in his wake. It sends an involuntary shiver down her spine as she follows him to the living room.

"Here she is," he coos, scooping her up from the floor and into his arms. Y/N's heart warms at the sight of a tall, attractive man holding a sweet kitten. "She's been very lethargic all day. Think she likes the winter just 'cos she gets more snuggles out of it."

"'s cute," she mumbles, biting her lip. Her eyes flicker to Harry's face. She seems to be more enamored by his appearance than hers. She wasn't expecting him by any means to fall to his knees and praise her for her beauty, and supposes it makes sense considering he's seen far more of her than she's seen of him. She's somewhat lost in those thoughts when she accidentally blurts the words out, her eyes going wide:

"You're cute."

Harry glances up, his cheeks glowing a pink hue almost immediately. "Sorry?"

Well, can't back down now, she thinks to herself. Swallowing, she forces her mouth to form around the words again. "You're cute," she repeats. "Sorry. That just kind of came out. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, this is just.... y'know, the first time I'm seeing you."

He clears his throat and bites his bottom lip, almost as if he's trying to hide a smile creeping at the edges of his lips.

"I think you're beautiful," he says softly, and the compliment makes her heart glow in her chest, "I didn't want to mention anything about appearances, 'cos I know maybe you were expecting someone different, but—"

"What do you mean?" she asks with furrowed brows. "I didn't have any expectations."

"Well, that's good. I guess I just wasn't sure if you were anticipating someone... else."

It takes a second for the words to click in her brain. Then, with a wrinkle between her eyebrows, she reaches out to lightly grasp at his elbow, willing his attention to shift from Beatrice to her.

"Harry, do you not find yourself attractive?"

It's a loaded question for any other first-time-meet-up, but at this point in their relationship, they've divulged a ton of information. She doesn't necessarily feel like much is off limits anymore.

Harry shrugs, mentally weighing his answer. "I mean, I think I'm just... fine."

"Fine?" Y/N repeats. "I'm not bullshitting you and I'm sorry if this makes you feel weird, but you're one of the most attractive men I've ever met."

He scoffs, allowing Beatrice to jump out of his arms. She leaps down to the floor, as if she's also feeling the intensity of the conversation and wants to be as far away from it as possible. With his hands now free, he sits down on the edge of his blue L-shaped couch, Y/N following suit. She sits across from him, watching as he wrings his hands together in his lap.

"I feel like that's probably a lie, you—"

"I told you I'm not bullshitting you."

Her response makes him laugh softly. "Yeah, but your whole career is based on, like... being attractive. I mean, look at you — you've definitely met more good looking people than me."

"Do you think I often meet up with people I meet from my streams?" Y/N asks, tilting her head to the side with a mocking smile. He knows she doesn't, because they discussed this multiple times before. "I don't know anyone in real life. Not from there, at least. You're the only one."

Harry shrugs his shoulders. "I guess it's just a little surprising."

"There's nothing to be surprised about," she reassures him gently. In an act of courage, she doesn't think much before her hand lands on his knee, giving it a light squeeze. "I want to be here. With you. I care about you."

A smile curls at the edges of his lips.

"So," she says, leaning back against the plushy cushions of his couch, "What were you thinking for dinner?"

. . .

Once the awkward tension melts between the two, it's as if they've known each other forever.

They order food and talk about everything and anything while Friends plays quietly in the background. Secretly, Y/N is over the moon — she never could have imagined things going this well between them.

It's only when she yawns loudly, feeling exhaustion begin to seep into her bones that she realizes how late it is. When she glances at her phone to check the time, her eyes bulge.

"Harry! It's 1 am, you should've kicked me out ages ago!" she exclaims, sitting up. With furrowed brows and puffy, sleepy eyes, he turns to look at her.

"Didn't even realize it was that late," he mumbles, suppressing a yawn of his own. "By the way, I would never kick you out."

She shakes her head with a small smile and rises from the couch. "C'mon, walk me out."

He nods and follows her out of the living room, back down to the hallway where she left her coat and shoes. With his arms crossed over his chest, he leans his hip against the wall, watching as she gets ready to leave. He wishes there was a way he could ask her to stay.

"Text me when you get home, alright?" he says lowly. Once she fits her boots over her feet, she straightens, nodding her head.

"I will," she murmurs. She can't help it when her eyes quickly flit down to his lips, a zip of anxiety firing through her chest. She so badly wants to kiss him. And, as if they're both elongating their goodbyes, he clears his throat before toeing his own shoes on.

"I'll walk you to your car."

"Oh, I walked here," she replies, stuffing her arms into her navy puffer jacket.

Harry furrows his eyebrows. "You walked?"

"Yeah, of course. We're only, like, 10 minutes away from each other, you know."

"Babe..." Harry sighs, the pet name nearly making her drool, "Didn't you see there's a huge snowstorm slated for tonight? They predicted a few inches by midnight."

Y/N's eyes widen. "Really?"

He laughs lightly before nodding his head. He gingerly wraps his hand around the doorknob to the front door, pulling it open just enough to where Y/N can see massive snowflakes falling from puffy clouds above. It's freezing, a cold chill making her shudder just from the quick peek outside.

"Fuck." she mutters, pulling her jacket closer to her body.

"Stay," he blurts out, glancing down at her shorter stature. "I... you can sleep in my bed and I'll sleep down here. I just don't want you going out in that. It's late."

The nerves are apparent in his shaky voice, but nonetheless, Y/N's nodding her head before he even finishes what he's saying.

"Okay." she breathes. "Can I borrow some pajamas?"

"Yeah, of course."

She follows him up to his bedroom, where he pulls a pair of sweatpants and a vintage tee-shirt out from his dresser. The room is clean, unsurprisingly so — if she's learned anything about Harry tonight, it's that he takes good care of his space, which she considers to be a great trait. His bed is made, his nightstand free from dust and only donning one of those fancy sunrise alarm clocks and a reusable water bottle.

He hands them to her, "I'll give you some privacy."

She nods with a small smile, murmuring out a thank you. Once he shuts the door behind him, she quickly sheds her own clothing and folds it neatly before pulling on his clothes. A moment or so later, he knocks politely, waiting for her to let him know if it's okay to come in.

"You're good," she calls out. He twists the doorknob open and stands in the entryway with a spare pillow and blanket tucked beneath his arm.

"I'm gonna change and head downstairs, but let me know if you need anything."

They stand there, looking at one another as if they're waiting for the other to say what's on both of their minds. When the silence remains, he flashes her a tight smile and turns around.

"Wait!" she exclaims, mentally cringing at the high-pitched tone of her voice. "Will you stay for a bit?"

Harry's shoulders visibly deflate. Once again, he bites his lip, as if he's trying to hide a smile.

"Yeah. I can stay."

They move silently but it's like they've performed this dance a million times before. She watches as he peels back the blankets on his bed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He turns the light off before smoothing over the cotton sheets, as if he's making sure they're suitable for her to lay in.

"Lemme just throw some sweats on," he mumbles, striding over to his dresser, "Get comfortable, okay?"

He excuses himself to the bathroom, where he slowly undresses himself and pulls on a cozy pair of sweatpants. He typically sleeps naked or just in a pair of briefs, but he would never even dream of doing anything remotely like that with Y/N in his bed.

Fuck. Y/N's in his bed.

He swallows tightly and tries to ward off the anxiety bubbling in his chest, taking time to wash his face and brush his teeth. When he's elongated the process enough, he returns to the bedroom to find her laying down and curled up in his blankets. It's almost as if she knew what side Harry typically sleeps on, opting for the one that's always empty.

"Are you comfortable?" Harry asks quietly as he moves through the dark, dumping his clothes from today in the hamper. She hums softly, a pretty sound that makes his length jump in his sweatpants.

"Your bed is nice." she murmurs. He chuckles and gets in next to her, leaving enough space between them so he doesn't crowd her space.

"I'm glad you think so. Want you to sleep well tonight."

Despite the exhaustion permeating from both of their bodies, Y/N finds it difficult to get completely comfortable, to the point where she could fall asleep. She can't help the excitement buzzing in her bones from being next to Harry — her fleetwoodlondon tipper.

"Are you still awake?" she whispers.

He doesn't answer immediately, which leads her to believe he's already fallen asleep. But then, he shifts onto his side, tucking his hands beneath his cheek to face her. "Mhm. What's wrong?"

She shrugs. "Nothing. Just not sleepy enough yet."

"Do you want me to talk to you about computer engineering? That'll knock you out in seconds."

She giggles, flipping onto her side and mimicking his position. She nibbles on her bottom lip as she assesses his features in the darkness of his bedroom — the slope of his nose, his two slightly overlapped front teeth, the dull sharpness of his cheekbones.

"No, but you can talk to me about other stuff."

"Hmm," he says, placing his hand down against the mattress between them. Instinctively, she reaches out to intertwine their fingers together. His heart speeds up. "What was that gift you were supposed to give me tonight?"

Her cheeks redden and she's grateful he can't see the nervousness that pops up on her face.

"It's not important." she rushes out.

"That's not an answer," he sing-songs, giving her hand a squeeze, "C'mon, tell me."

"It's embarrassing now."

He quirks an eyebrow. "Embarrassing?"

She nods.

"How so?"

"Well... it was more so for when we didn't know we lived close to each other. Before we decided to meet in person."

"Okay...?"

"I got us Bluetooth sex toys." she blurts out with a warm face. The heat from her shame travels down the length of her body, making her sweat beneath his gaze. "Um, I got a cock ring for you and a vibrator for me. So we could control them for each other. I bough them the day after you, um, told me what to do on my stream. It's stupid now, and I'm sorry if that's crossing a huge boundary since I know we haven't done anything like that in a month, so maybe you've changed your mind—"

"I haven't changed my mind." he cuts her off. "I still watch every one of your streams."

She swallows harshly. "Really?"

"I never miss one," he admits. "And the fact that you thought of me like that and... got us those is... it's really hot, Y/N."

Her core throbs. It's the first time she's heard him talk like this not over text or private messaging. She squeezes her thighs together as she bites on her bottom lip, attempting to slow her breathing to a normal pace.

"You think so?" she breathes.

"Yeah."

Even without a single light on in his bedroom, she can feel his intense gaze on her. Unhurriedly, she moves her leg closer to his, wiggling it to fit between his thighs. He welcomes her touch without a word.

"I really liked when you dominated me that night," she whispers. Perhaps it's a confession that doesn't need to be verbalized — he knows she adored it not only because she asked for it, but because she came in record time, too. Since that evening, he hasn't stopped thinking how he watched her hole clench around her fingers because of him. She moaned his name — or rather, his honorific — over and over again. Every time he's gone to jerk off without watching her stream, it's all he's needed to think about, blurts of cum spraying his stomach not a few minutes later.

"I liked doing it." he murmurs. She begins to move her foot up and down the length of his calf, the feeling of her soft skin making him shiver.

"What else did you like?"

The tip of his tongue peeks out to lick over his lips. What a loaded question — he likes just about everything she does, but that was a guaranteed cop-out of an answer.

"I liked hearing you call me daddy," he confesses lowly. "Liked watching you. Thought about you bouncing on my cock and finishing that way."

She hums, closing the distance between them without even realizing it. Their chests are pressed up against each other's, her puffy nipples now stiff peaks beneath the soft fabric of his tee-shirt. He can feel himself thickening up steadily, though he's sure he would've gotten hard just by sleeping next to her.

"I think I would let you do just about anything you want to me," she admits, nibbling on her bottom lip, "You turn me on so much... I don't even think you realize it."

He huffs in disbelief, snaking an arm around her waist to gently tug her impossibly closer. He gives her hip a small squeeze as a test — he's been thinking about throwing her around like a doll for months on end, but her comfort is his top priority, always.

"What does 'anything' entail?" he asks. He knows he's asking for trouble now, that there's no returning from this. There's no way that this night won't end with him balls deep inside of her, thrusting his cum into her pussy until she's squealing and pushing him away from overstimulation.

"Well, for starters, you can take me however you want," she says, trailing soft fingertips down his chest. She stops at his abs and he breathes in sharply, willing her to continue her journey downwards. "From behind, me on top... wherever and whenever you want. Don't care if we're in public, either. I'd love to show you off and make sure everyone knows I cum for you."

He groans, head tilting back slightly from her possessive words. "More," he demands gruffly.

"Want you to use all my toys on me... tie me up, press a vibrator to my clit until I can't see straight anymore," her fingers meet his hips, lightly feeling over his cock underneath his sweatpants. "Have you watched the shows where I squirt?"

"Of course I have, pretty baby."

Her chest warms at the nickname. As if it's a reward, her hand dips beneath his sweatpants, gasping in mock surprise when she finds that he's not wearing underwear. Better yet, he's hard and aching for her.

"I have no doubt that I'd squirt for you."

She punctuates her sentence by wrapping her hand around the base of his cock, giving it a cursory squeeze. A short, low groan sounds from his chest before he's grabbing her arm and giving her a sharp look. Alarmed, she quickly removes her hand.

"I'm sorry. Was that too much? Did I misunderstand?"

"Not at all," he mutters, getting up onto his knees. His other hand finds her free wrist, raising both of her arms above her head. She gasps out in surprise. "I just think it's cute that you think after watching you get off for months, you think I wouldn't want first dibs on this pussy."

Y/N giggles, relief flushing through her chest at the knowledge that she didn't do anything wrong. Keeping her arms propped up with one of his large hands, he uses the other to tug her sweatpants down. Just like him, she's decided to go underwear-free this evening.

"You're glistening already. Dripping down to your cute little ass."

His words make her swallow harshly. She knew from that one conversation that he was an expert at dirty talk, but hearing it in person was an entirely different game. One that she surely would never forget.

He uses two of his fingertips to spread her labia, breathing out fiercely at the sight of the strings of arousal. With his fingers in a v-shape, he watches as the pretty ribbons snap each time he moves his digits up and down, issuing a light massage to the skin between her lips and thighs.

"You're so much prettier in person." he murmurs. "I've watched you cum so many times, but... nothing compares to the real thing. You know that, pretty baby?"

A pathetic whimper falls from her swollen lips. "Stop teasing, daddy."

His heart thuds at the name. It's a weak spot, especially hearing it come from her. Watching her hole pulsate around nothing, he decides he wants — no, needs — nothing more than to lean forward and wrap his lips around her pearled clit. Her taste is heady and delicious and he's instantly hooked, especially when she curls her leg around his shoulder, pressing her heel into his back to pull him closer. She moans loudly as he sucks messily, his eyes rolling back when he feels the swollen bundle throb in his mouth.

"So good," she whines, "'s so good daddy, fuck."

He can tell that she needs minimal prep, but his suspicion is only proven right when he pushes a finger inside, her hole immediately sucking him in. He prods at her g-spot, eliciting another mewl from her pretty mouth. He thinks he could cum just from this — from sucking at her clit and fingering her deep inside, feeling her thrash around beneath him as her orgasm builds.

"Fuck— wait, wait," she pants out. Harry instantly stops, removing his hands and mouth from her. He looks up with concerned eyes and she smiles a hazy, gentle grin, pushing her hand through his messy hair. "Can you edge me? I wanna cum on your cock, daddy."

He thinks he may faint on the spot.

"Whatever you want, pretty."

She laughs breezily when he surges forward once more, nudging the tip of his tongue into her wet hole. She gasps as he thrusts it in and out, lifting his free hand to rub circles into her sensitive clit. The sensation of her pussy clenching around the width of his tongue is almost too much to handle for both of them.

He waits for her to tell him when she's almost at the edge, but it doesn't take much more. Soon enough, she's panting and pushing him away, whimpering out that she's nearly there.

"Can I ride you, please?" she nearly begs, her eyes widened and watery, "Please, need to feel you deep inside."

He chuckles at her desperation, sitting up on his heels to thumb at her bottom lip. He pulls it and lets snap back.

"Only if you give me a kiss, baby."

She scrambles onto her knees, billowing forward to press her lips messily to his. It's wet and hot, especially with the heady taste of her arousal on his tongue. He groans when she begins to suck at it, overwhelmed by her enthusiasm as he gives her hip a squeeze. When he breaks their kiss, he presses a quick one to her nose before maneuvering her body so she's straddling his waist. She rolls her hips urgently, his cock spreading her labia deliciously. It's a gorgeous sight — one Harry never wants to forget.

"Put me in." he instructs, folding his hands behind his head.

With shaky hands, she lifts up slightly, granting herself just enough room so she can lower onto his length. The second the tip pops through her tight walls, they're both moaning loudly, her eyes fluttering shut. Harry forces his to stay open so he can memorize the way she looks taking him for the first time.

"Take your time," he murmurs, breaking his dominant persona for a moment, "Don't force yourself, pretty baby. Give yourself a second."

"I can take it," she pouts, grinding down against his pelvic bone. She whimpers, her hand flying to her stomach. "Fuck— fuck, I can feel you in here, daddy."

"Told you, silly girl," he says with a smirk, his hands finding her hips with a squeeze. "Take your time. Don't need you getting hurt."

This time, she listens to him and allows herself a few moments to adjust. Once it doesn't feel like he's punching through to her cervix, she bounces once in experimentation, just to make sure she can really, truly take it.

"Why didn't you ever mention— oh— that you're fucking massive?" she whimpers out as she begins to bounce up and down. He laughs, though it quickly gets cut short when he begins to properly feel the tightness of her pussy.

"Guess it never came up." he mutters through gritted teeth.

His hands remaining on her hips, he helps her maintain her rhythm. He swallows harshly as he watches her breasts jiggle in time with her dropping up and down, never once allowing his cock to shift.

"'m gonna cum soon," she babbles out. As if on cue, Harry feels her hole pulsating around his length, making his eyes roll back.

"Show me," he demands, steadying her hips with his hands. He starts to thrust up into her, watching as her jaw falls slack from the slight but sudden switch in position. "There you go, baby. Take daddy's cock like you were made for it. Cum all over me."

He never doubted it, but god she's good at taking directions. Within a few seconds, she's clenching and coming all over his cock, whiney mewls falling from her lips as her orgasm washes over her. She moans out his honorific repeatedly, just like she did all those months ago. The sight and sound of her sopping wet pussy sucking in his length is enough to send him to his own peak, abs clenching as he fucks up into her, filling her to the brim with his warm come.

"Fuck, take it pretty girl, there you go," he groans loudly.

When each of their orgasms eventually taper off, the only thing that fills the room is the sound of their haphazard breathing. Gently, she lifts off, her hands pressing down against his chest. She feels his mess slowly seeping out of her.

"'m sorry," he runs his hand through his hair, realizing that he finished in her without discussing it. "I should've asked—"

"No, it's fine. I'm on birth control. I wouldn't have wanted you to finish anywhere else." she admits bashfully, her cheeks rosy in a post-orgasm flush. "It's just... uncomfortable once it's over."

"Of course. Let me grab a towel to clean you up."

She nods graciously as she gradually flips onto her back. Harry returns a moment later, wiping his length clean before nestling between her thighs to wash the evidence of their sex away.

"Thank you," Y/N mumbles sleepily. "No one's ever done this for me before."

Harry scoffs. If he wasn't so exhausted, he would have pressed for more details, insisting that this wasn't something worth thanking him for. Instead, he simply tosses the towel in the hamper and gets back underneath the blankets.

"Can we cuddle?" she asks quietly, lifting her head to look at him. He smiles, extending his arm so she can nestle into his side.

"C'mere, pretty."

. . .

The next morning, Harry wakes up with Y/N tucked into his chest. They're still naked, but the warmth of her soft body feels incredible. So much so, that he wonders if he's stuck in some sort of dream.

He realizes it's not when she begins to stir in his arms. When she bats her eyelashes open, her eyes puffy with sleep, she smiles gently.

"Morning."

Harry matches her smile. In a leap of faith, he leans down to press a kiss to her lips. Even after last night's events, he's unsure if this is appropriate. He's not sure if it was supposed to be a one night stand type of situation, but considering she didn't get up in the middle of the night and leave, he entertains the idea that it may be a bit more than that.

"Good morning," he returns, watching as her face glows from his brief kiss. "What time do you have to be at work?"

She groans and it immediately makes him feel guilty. She leans up onto her elbows, the edge of the comforter hiding the peeks of her nipples as she glances at the time. It's already 8:10.

"I'm supposed to be there at 9," she replies, laying back down against the pillows. It looks like the wheels are churning in her head as she mindlessly fits her fingers between his.

"What are you thinking about?" he murmurs lowly, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Calling in sick," she admits. "Is it ridiculous that I don't want to leave?"

He chuckles, though a wave of relief washes over him. He had been thinking the same — he wanted to make her breakfast and have him in his bed all day, lean over and pepper kisses all over her face and watch as she wrinkles her nose in that cute way she does.

"Not ridiculous. We've spent months talking to each other, think we deserve some time together," he says, "In fact... if you call out, I'll do it, too."

"Really?" she asks with raised eyebrows.

"Sure. I have weeks of paid time that I've never used."

She grins and nods her head, "Okay. Yeah, that sounds good. Could we hang out all day? Maybe watch some movies and snuggle with Beatrice?"

"That sounds perfect, pretty girl." he replies, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. He sits up and grabs his clothes from the floor, pulling his sweatpants on before he heads down to his home office.

"Wait!" she grabs his arm, pulling gently. He quirks an eyebrow and looks at her expectedly. "Could we... do you think we can maybe use those toys I bought us?"

The warm flush that flowers over her cheeks makes his heart squeeze in his chest.

"Anything you want, baby," he murmurs with a small smile, "Anything you want."

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luveline · 10 months

Note

Miguel requests you say? 🤭 how about grumpy lovesick Miguel giving spider girl a hickey cause no one’s gonna notice right? only for someone to notice lol he’d be teased relentlessly.

thank you for your request!! —miguel gives spidergirl!reader a hickey. fem!reader, 1.5k

Miguel runs his entire life based on the assumption that there's not enough time. The multiverse is caving in on itself and he's probably the only one who can stop it —he doesn't have time to be kissing you in a dark hallway on the way to the control room.

He doesn't have time and he shouldn't be doing this here, but you looked at him like he hung the moon for making some stupid joke, and you're always lovely, sweeping around him without worry to ask how he's feeling today, to touch his arm and really mean it. Did you get any sleep?

He's not thinking as his hand closes down on your shoulder to pull you forward, not thinking as he chases you back into an alcove, not thinking as the seam of your lips parts under the pressure of his kissing, as you sigh into it, as your hands go limp where they're pressed to his neck.

Miguel used to be better with words. He kisses you until you can't breathe, taking and taking and taking, your touch and especially your open-mouthed kisses a balm. And as you catch your breath, your hand rubbing affectionately at the back of his neck, he tilts your chin up with a no-nonsense thumb and noses at the column of your throat. He's trying to be quick and forgetting to be nice, nipping little welts like a line of longing from your jawline to your collar, hand hooked in your suit and holding it down for a better angle.

He thinks, if he were to let the suit spring back into place, no one would see what he wants to do.

"Can I?" he asks, hand full of your face, your head weighed heavily to one side.

You're breathless. "I'd let you do anything you want to me," you say honestly.

He attempts to ruin your right there in the hall. The hand that isn't holding your face squeezes at your waist unabashedly, pulling you as close as he can get as he works his teeth against the delicate skin of your neck. Open-mouthed, Miguel plasters damp crescents up to your pulse, where he stays, where he bites. You shudder at the feeling. Your happy sigh eggs him on.

He's feeling pretty smug about the whole thing when he finally arrives ten minutes late to the command centre. The platform starts to rise under his feet, Lyla on his shoulder, Margo at the helm. You sit on the edge and swing your feet, hand drifting to your freshly bruised neck and prodding gently. He wonders if you've ever had a hickey before, and concludes you likely haven't; you've no room for subtlety.

The smugness fades. You don't have a subtle bone in your body, actually, and he didn't ask you to hide it. He's not sure he wants to —you don't want to be his secret, and though it humanises him too much for his liking in the eyes of some of the other Spiders to have evident feelings for you, he doesn't want you to feel that way. You probably think the hickey is a 'freaky' badge of honour, the way you function. You'd sounded oh so happy to get it, and you'd kissed him when he pulled away like you were saying thank you.

You definitely have some misconceptions Miguel needs to set straight, and he will. Just not in front of Lyla. He's only now started setting boundaries with the AI, like, try not to watch what I'm doing all the time, and, please don't pop into existence to make snarky commentary at my lame attempts at romance. It sort of kills the mood.

The day moves forward smoothly. Miguel might actually get away with it. You ease back fully onto the platform with your back to all of them, a book in your lap, humming at odd times until you forget to hum. Lyla runs calculations. Margo runs the teleportation room. Nobody notices anything unusual, not the mess of his hair from your squeezing fingers nor the rumpled neck of your suit.

Legs crossed, you lay back and stretch your arms up toward him. He notices your movement from the corner of his eye and turns to give you a reassuring smile. He'd say he needs to find you a job, but there are enough spiders doing enough jobs. You have a training course tomorrow for strike force, but today, you're good to lounge about on the floor and send him lazy winks.

Peter B. Parker arrives, and of course he brings trouble.

"Hey, Spider," he calls, nodding at you, then Margo, and then Miguel. "Spider, Spider. Hi, Lyla."

"What do you want?" Miguel asks tiredly.

"Lyla asked me to come," he says.

"For what?" Miguel asks Lyla.

"Peter's useful. You need two team captains today in case the canon events on Earth-898 and 1264 converge at the same time and there are anomalies. I don't see why I have to tell you this."

Miguel groans and he and his AI descend into an argument. You wave at Peter from the platform as it begins to descend toward him, fingers spread and swaying like sea grass.

"Hi, Peter," you say, "where's Mayday? I'm owed a baby hold, you promised."

"I did, I did promise!" Peter says. He squints at you. "I think I made one of the Spider-Girls that looks like you hold her, actually. That would explain why she was so confused. Woah, what happened?"

Three heads turn at Peter's surprise. You stand up and hop the small distance from the platform to the floor as it stops moving, confused. "What?"

"You have a bruise the size of Hawaii!" Peter's eyebrows jump his forehead. "I thought you were looking after her?" he asks Miguel.

"He is," you say, less confused now.

"What bruise?" Lyla asks.

"It's not appropriate," Miguel says. "Margo's here."

"Margo," Lyla says pleadingly.

Margo sighs at the acute and abject unseriousness of her colleagues and logs out. As soon as she's gone, Lyla whizzes from Miguel's shoulder to yours, and while the hologram can't move aside your suit's high neck, she doesn't really need to. The dark colour of your hickey peeks out regardless.

"Jesus, Miguel," Lyla says, "what's wrong with you?"

Peter looks a funny mixture of embarrassed to have brought it up and pleased. "I mean, good for you guys."

Miguel's surprised when you —tries to make him dance in public, lackadaisical, carefree you— pull the neck of your suit up and bat your hand. Lyla zips away from your fingers.

"Please, stop," you say, laughing uncomfortably.

Miguel hadn't considered how you might feel if you were discovered. He winces and steps off of the platform to get his arm around your shoulder. "Peter," he says, feeling wildly over protective, "you can do my tasks, since you're here. Lyla will help. It's my lunch break."

"You don't have a lunch break."

"I barely said anything!" Peter protests.

Despite a batch of grumbling complaints, Peter climbs onto the platform, dragging a chair to Miguel's crop of orange screens.

You let Miguel guide you to the hall, an apology on the tip of his tongue. You're a few steps deep when you drop the sad-sack act and spin out of his arm, turning to face him. A devious smile curls the corners of your lips up. "That was good, right?"

"You're not upset?" he asks, eyebrows set into their usual frown.

"Nah. You wanted to get out of there, right? Your cheeks went pink."

"They did not."

"They did! Like when you kiss me, they went all pink, you can practically see how warm you were." You make a heart with your hands and press it to your chest. "Saved you, handsome."

He looks up at the ceiling. Of course you know him well enough to know he wasn't keen on being teased. Of course you're not embarrassed at being marked up and discovered. You love his attention, you love all the boyfriend‐like stuff he does, kisses and hugs and hickeys, the whole job lot. He doesn't need to worry.

"Thank you," he says. It's sweet of you to rescue him. You're a sweet woman.

"You're welcome. Maybe next time, if you're going to get shy, you could give me one where people won't see."

"Stop," he warns without heat.

You laugh and twine your hand with his, yanking him down the hall. To the cafeteria, he guesses. He wouldn't know. He's never been there. Miguel really doesn't have a lunch break.

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 3 months

Note

omg i understand its okay🥹🤍

then can i request a fic w lando where the reader is really down lately, not eating or sleeping and just like sad because she’s feeling rly nostalgic and theyre away from home and she’s like scared of growing up (even tho she’s like barely 21) and lando gets really concerned when he notices shes losing weight and sleep and stuff so he confronts her and she breaks down😔 sry if that made no sense again just smthn im going through because i keep listening to ribs by lorde

We Have A Life Together - LN

First of all, I hope you're ok. Please make sure you're taking care of yourself, if you're that young it's so important to know that you there's good and bad days for all of us. But never ever put selfceare as the last priority.

I am going to alter this slightly. I'm going to make her closer to Lando's age, if that's ok, just bc I have an idea that I feel like would work well for the fearing growing up idea.

Y/n loves nothing more than being there to support Lando, she wants to see him succeeding. But sometimes these things come at a cost for herself.

Y/n hasn't been sleeping or eating for what feels like weeks, maybe months now.

"Baby...are you coming with me or joining later?" Lando asks, waking her up from the depth of sleep as he kisses her shoulder, his hands either side of her body to keep himself held up over her.

"Later. I'm still tired." Y/n murmurs not opening her eyes and while she hears a sigh from the driver before he kisses her skin softly again.

"Ok, I'll see you later." He states while she tries not to grimace, though her face is pressed mostly into the pillow so he can't really see it. "Make sure you order something from room service. You missed breakfast."

Y/n knows it's a new low to pretend to sleep just so she can rot in bed but it's the only thing she has the energy to today. In the moment, she can't possibly think of anything worse than getting up and trying to look presentable.

When her alarm goes to let her know she's really pushing her luck to get showered, ready and to the paddock before Lando is actually out on the track. She finally peels herself out of the bed and drags herself to the bathroom.

She's began to lose the ability to recognise herself. The dark bags weighing her whole face down, she's exhausted. The lack of sleep is visibly and her face has hollowed out by the lack of appetite that's meant she's lost weight too, only adding to her woes.

It's only a matter of time before Lando breaks up with her. They might be getting older but the two of them are not nearing the point of "for better or worse" so he's got no obligation to stay with her while she stops taking care of herself.

After her best efforts to look more alive and less like a dead body walking. She finally leaves, getting a car to the paddock and making her way inside.

Her mind wanders, as it seems to a lot recently, leaving her bumping into a body and with her lack of eating means her ability to react quick enough to catch herself leaves her landing ungracefully on the ground.

"Ow." Y/n winces as the body she bumps into rushes to aid her getting up.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry." George states as he hooks his hands under her armpits and nearly throws her up onto her feet. "Oh bloody hell, sorry. You're lighter than I expected. Nearly caused more injury there. Are you alright?"

"No. No. I'm fine. It's my fault, I wasn't even looking where I was going." Y/n rambles shaking her head and noticing George frown at her. "Have you seen Lando? Just easier to ask than go looking and find he's not in the unit."

"I saw him doing some video content with Oscar. I think they're out on the track to be honest." George states then clearing his throat. "Are you sure you're alright? You hit the ground pretty hard."

Y/n thinks of the ache humming through her bones from the impact. Losing weight certainly means less cushioning for falls in clumsy moments.

"I'm good, certainly landed myself with worse injuries on a night out on the town." Y/n jokes managing to give the blonde brit a genuine smile. "I should go, I got here late. Needed extra sleep."

That seems to go unbelieved if George's expression is anything to go off of. Not that she's surprised, her attempts at covering up her exhaustion haven't done much to really improve anything.

"I'll see you guys later." Y/n smiles before she rushes off trying to locate her boyfriend. The last thing she really wants is to have to deal with other people, she was hoping to find him on his own. The marketing girls can get a little possessive over the McLaren drivers' attention being on anyone but them when they're trying to make content and Lando is...easily distracted by his girlfriend.

After about 10 minutes of looking, she manages to locate them.

They're doing some sort of race but as she appears she sees the marketing team deflate.

Lando is in the car with Oscar and when she walks over to the team, one particularly nasty girl looks her up and down.

"You look awful, when Lando said you'd be here late. I thought you might be actually making an effort when you come here." Katie comments making her sigh a little before deciding to remain quiet with young woman.

"Baby! There you are. I got your message but I was told off for being on my phone." Lando chuckles as he jumps out the car and moves to her, though he notices an injury both her and George really hadn't noticed. "Are you bleeding?"

His large hand grabs her wrist and shoves a scrap that she really hadn't noticed.

"Oh, uh...yeah. I bumped into George when I was on my way and fell over like an idiot." Y/n explains trying to be nonchalant as Lando inspects her injury. "Honestly, just wasn't looking where I was going."

"Guys, are we done?" Lando asks looking at the marketing team.

"Well we wanted to-"

"Sounds like a yes. I'm just taking y/n to the medical centre to clean her up." Lando states making the marketing team watch with strained smiles as they nod.

At one point they had tried to speak up to Lando about y/n disrupting content recording. So he told them that if they had something like that to say ever again then he'd be happy to tell them to fuck off, as he did on that occasion.

After she's cleaned up with instruction to be more careful Lando pulls her to his drivers' room.

"What did you get to eat?" Lando asks, already knowing the answer that she's about to give him.

"Oh uhh...I ended up not ordering. Figured I'd get something here." Y/n smiles always trying to appear happy and positive with her boyfriend especially when they're in the paddock and around his work.

"Baby, we need to talk." Lando states making her swallow thickly and look at him with a sigh. "What's going on?"

"What do you me?" Y/n questions with a small laugh and strained smile.

"Y/n, you're exhausted. You think I don't know you're not sleeping and not eating? I'm not blind. So can you please tell me why so I can help you however I need to so you are sleeping and eating again?"

Y/n knows that for Lando to call her out, it's his breaking-point. He doesn't like to talk about this sort of thing unless completely necessary.

"I'm scared." Y/n whispers knowing that to try and deny it would be a pointless effort.

"Scared of what?" Lando asks softly, almost fearing that it's him that's scaring her.

"It's just...everything is moving so quickly. You're 25 next year, and then I'm 25 after that and I miss home-god, I just I feel so homesick but then when I go home. I almost feel homesick with being away from you. I just feel like I'm getting left behind or being dragged along and I feel like such a burden to you. The anxiety is stopping me from sleeping and just the thought of food when it's in front of me makes me feel nauseous." Y/n starts crying harder and harder as she speaks and rambles.

"Ok, ok. Ok, let's just breathe and calm down." Lando soothes standing up and rushing to stand with her. "I've got you, just breathe with me."

His arms squeeze her as tightly as he feels like he can without making her heavy breathing worse.

Bjut eventually she's calmed down.

"Alright, baby. Do you know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think we need to get our families coming out to a few more races so you don't have to feel so homesick. We need to get more of your stuff over to our place in Monaco so you feel more at home. And you need to remember that...we are getting older but whenever I think of our future I think of...what ring I might get you...how you might look when I see you on the day of our wedding being walked down the aisle by your dad...how amazing you're going to look pregnant with any one of our kids...what we're going to speak the years after I retire doing because god we'll have so much time that you'll wish I would just leave you alone, but I won't. I can't imagine a future without you, but we have soooo much time before all of that. Well...most of it, maybe somethings will be coming sooner rather than later."

Y/n does finally smile in a way that he knows is her real genuine smile that isn't forced for anyone else's benefit.

"You're confident I'll be saying yes to a proposal."

"You can say that, but we both know I'm not wrong...look, it's ok to get in your head. But just tell me and I'll reassure you and let you know if it's worth being so neglectful towards yourself. Which for the record it's not. Especially when I am superhuman and can and will do anything and everything as a solution to whatever you're upset about, ok?"

"Ok."

"So does everything I said sound ok? Are you happy for us to figure this out all together?"

"Yes."

"Now, can we get you like three plates of food to eat. I'm going to sit with you and eat too, and make sure you eat everything I give you."

"Alright."

"Good. Well lets get moving because no better time like the present. Plus I'm hungry too." Lando smiles while moving to kiss her which she is more than accepting of before he manages to scoop her up. "Just in case you were planning on making a run for it. Or bumping into another driver who can apparently cause more damage than you realise."

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oppopotamus · 6 months

Text

Shoe riding

gojo satoru x top male reader

Warning: nsfw, gojo has a pussy, shoe riding, face slapping (like once), name calling (slut, baby, sweetheart etc), face riding, face sitting, sending nudes, kind of mean reader??

Satoru had always been a little shit, that much was known but nobody knew how much of a tease he was.

Satoru had one of his very few 'free days' where he can take time off of work, it was very rare for Satoru to ever get any sort of break.

Usually you take time off of work to spend it with Satoru since you don't get to see him that much.

Though unfortunately, you were called into work late as it was understaffed and many we're sick and you were the last resort basically.

Satoru begged you to stay, saying he'd do absolutely anything. Whether that be paying you for the next week until you got your next paycheck, or by doing something a little bit more... Scandalous.

You were extremely tempted to take that offer but your boss had threatened you that you'd lose your job if you took yet another day off.

So, you had no choice but to go in.

Satoru was feeling grumpy as he walked around your shared house, he just wanted to lounge around in bed all day with you!

I mean, he's plently rich enough to pay for both of you but you insisted that you didn't want him paying for everything.

Satoru finally had an amazing idea. Well, amazing to him atleast.

Satoru stood infront of the full length mirror that stood in your bedroom. He was wearing nothing but the pretty white lingerie you had brought him a while back which he never really got to wear, thought today he was going to show you how much he loved the gift.

Satoru got his phone camera ready and started taking pictures, many, many pictures. He posed in ways he knew would get your attention and posed in ways he didn't even know how he did!

Just to show you how flexible he was, of course.

Satoru selected the pictures he had thought were the best, all in the lingerie he hadn't taken any nude selfies. Not yet atleast.

He finally sended them to you, he didn't know if you would reply or even if you would see the message.

When you get a text on your phone from the one and only Satoru Gojo you think it's important enough to open.

Once you open them your calm demeanor disappears and you cough to avoid suspicion.

"Are you quite alright, (Name)?" One of your coworkers asks, "Yes, perfectly fine. Just got a bit of a cough."

"Don't you think you should head home then?" Another nosy coworker asks after listening in on your conversation as per usual with them. All your coworkers were very nosy people.

"Ah, boss wouldn't let me head home even if I asked." You said sadly, the photos would not get out of your head. Gojo in all those pretty poses, just begging for you to take him.

You try and shake the thoughts out of your head and attempt to think of something different in hopes your red face would disappear.

"Your face is burning up! (Name), you should really head home. If the boss doesn't let you leave I'll give him a piece of my mind!" The lady you we're just talking to before says.

"Ah, thank you very much but there's no need. I'm sure I'll be fine." You say, before you get another text from Gojo.

This time he's posed so he's sitting on the ground with his legs spread and facing the mirror so you can see everything through the thin fabric of the lingerie.

The photo had been sent with a text below it simply saying, 'come take it off for me?'

Oh god, you were in trouble. You could feel your pants start to get tighter. You don't know how you can even attempt to keep your cool now.

As if on que, your boss comes strolling in asking you where you've been and that you need to report to his office at once to approve some documents.

You're about to follow before a coworker pipes up saying, "He is much to sick, sir! (Name) can absolutely not work in these conditions!"

"I second that! If you don't excuse (Name) from work I'll take it to the higher ups and report you for not letting a sick employee go home." Another coworker says firmly.

You can almost see veins popping out of his head in anger so your boss decided it would just be easier to send you home than having to deal with the higher ups.

"Fine! (Name)... You're free to go home." Your boss says, you can sense the anger coming from him so you quickly pack up your things, saying a small 'thank you' to your coworkers who helped you out.

You're just getting into your car as you get another message from Gojo with yet another photo.

This time the image is of him still with he legs spread except he has moved the lingerie so it shows off his pretty pussy.

Fuck. This man is going to be the death of you.

You send him a message saying 'I'm coming home now. You've been bad, Satoru. Get ready.'

You can practically see Satorus scared face through the screen.

You start your car and head back home, once there you park the car and head to open the door.

You stop in the front entrance and take off your blazer and hang it on the coat rack.

You head up to the bedroom door and open it. "I'm home, Satoru-" You don't finish your sentence before you stop and stare in wonder of how pretty Satoru is.

Satoru's sitting down on the bed, patiently waiting there with his knees under him.

You walk over to him, standing above the bed with your tall height towering over him. You bring a hand out to cup his chin and raise it so he's staring right at you.

"Such a pretty boy. Aren't you, 'toru?" You ask, though you get no answer back. "So very pretty. Too bad you're such a brat." You spit out the last words and raise a hand across his cheek, slapping him. Not enough to really hurt but enough to make him gasp from shock.

Gojo whimpers as you drag him forward, he has to put his hands out to stabilise himself so he doesn't fall off the bed.

"Just a slut, aren't you? Can't even wait a few hours for me to come home. You just had to interfere with my work."

"M'sorry.." Gojo says in response, he's not really sorry at all. He loves the way you act when you get this way.

He'd do it all over again and you know he will, whenever that may be. He's just too much of a slut.

"On your knees." You say gesturing to the side of the bed where you currently stand.

You turn around and sit down on the bed as Gojo scrambles to sit down infront of you.

Once he's sitting on his knees infront of you, you gesture for him to move forward. He does so he's awkwardly sitting there between you legs, he begins reaching out to your crotch before you stop him.

"No, sweetheart. I want you to ride my shoe. I'm not helping you get off today, you've already interrupted my day enough."

Satoru gulps at that and hesitates before he sits atop one of your shoes.

"Like this?" Satoru asks, "Yeah, just like that, baby. Good job." You smile down at him and Gojo suddenly feels proud, as if he's such a good boy, just for you.

Satoru finally starts moving, moaning out as his clit comes in contact with your shoe. He moves forwards and back again, it's not nearly as pleasurable as when you touch him.

He has no idea whether this will make him cum or not. He feels good but it doesn't feel quite enough.

"P..Please.. Need- Ah!" Satoru moans out as he ruts back and forth on your shoe, getting it dirty with his wetness.

"Hm? Tell me what it is you need." You say down at him as you play with his hair while he moves faster and faster against your shoe.

"C-can't." He says shaking his head side to side fastly while he shuts his eyes tightly so he can't see you looking down at him. You know that he will get a headache if he keeps doing that so you grab his chin and force him to look up at you.

"Look at me and tell me what it is you need, baby." You command. He finally cracks his eyes open and looks up at you.

"Need you..." He says, "I'm right here, sweetheart. Tell me what you want me to do okay?" You say while smiling down at him.

"P-please.. Want you to touch me."

"But I'm already touching you, baby. See? You're humping my foot like some dog."

"No.. I mean-" You cut Satoru off and grab his chin tighter, causing him to squeak in surprise.

"You've been such a little slut today, you know? I don't think you deserve to have your way. I think you should just sit there and do what I say. Understood?" Satoru whined at the harsh words but nods anyways, continuing to grind on your shoe.

He lets out groans and whimpers but he soon realizes that just humping your shoe is not nearly enough to get him off.

He wants you touching him, with your hands or for you to have his cock inside him, stretching him open till he cries from pleasure and pain.

Though apparently that's not going to happen today and it makes him whine.

He pleads and begs you, he doesn't even know what he's saying anymore, he's just spewing out words.

You reach down and yank his hair back, he yelps in pain and grips your leg tightly.

"Please!" He whines out, moving faster trying to chase that release he so desperately wants.

You sigh, "Fine, come up here." You say moving back on the bed and lay down.

He crawls up with a dazed smile on his face, and straddles you.

"C'mere baby." You say grabbing his hips and pulling him up to sit on your face. Satoru hesitates for a moment before lowering himself down.

"Ah!" He moans out as you move your tongue inside him. He grinds down on your face, you feel his juices spreading across your face as he moves back and forth.

Satoru moans out as he feels his release finally creeping up.

He's not going to last long, he knows he's going to cum any second. Riding your shoe made him get so close but not nearly far enough.

He repeats your name over and over, getting so close to his release. His clit rubs over your nose while you tongue at his hole.

You're starting to get slightly light headed with him on your face but you know it's not going to be much longer until he cums so you're not worried.

"(Name)! I'm gonna- Oh god-" Just before he finishes his sentence he's squirting all over your face, wetting it.

He sits and breathes heavily for a moment until he calms down and rises off of your face.

"Haah.. Thank you.." He says, looking down at you with a dumb smile on his face.

#male reader smut #amab reader #male reader #dom male reader #top male reader #jjk x male reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x male reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru

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bandgie · 2 months

Text

Who Dun It?

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

warnings! MDNI18+, fingering!!, (rough/soft) clitplay!!!, poly!skz, 4/8skz, hyung-line, slight mindbreak/subspace, super slight PIV

synopsis: After vowing to find the stranger who was tragically ripped away from you that unfortunate night, your simple plan turns messy when eight men claim to be the one you're looking for. Seven are surely lying, but what's the harm in indulging in all of them?

2.9k words

The cushions of the couch mold the shape of your body as you sit upon it. You find yourself picking at the loose strings anxiously, staring at the eight men who argue amongst themselves.

"He's lying!" It's Hyunjin who's shouting, a finger pointing at his younger frat brother. "He wasn't even there that night! He told me he had an essay due and couldn't come!"

Seungmin, as stoic as ever, rolls his eyes. "I finished early. I said that, like, 10 times. Are you stupid or something?"

It looks like Hyunjin might burst a vein from his neck, but Chan, the president of the frat, places a hand on Hyunjin's slender shoulder. "I don't think yelling will get us anywhere. Seungmin was there; He was fashionable late." He flashes a dimpled smile at you. "But you don't need to worry about who was there and who wasn't, baby, it was me."

Minho scoffs, "As if last I recall, you were too busy getting plastered to remember how to even finger someone."

You shift in your seat, drawing the attention of Felix who glances at you. He eyes you for a moment before wearing a look of sympathy on his face. "You don't have to stay here if you don't want to," his deep voice rings in your ear throughout the commotion. "I know the boys can be a little much," Felix gives a friendly smile. "We can always pick up where we left off next time." He finishes with a wink.

There's hardly any time to respond when Changbin loudly shouts, "Yah! Yongbok is cheating! He's putting fake memories in her head!"

Felix quickly puts his hands up in defense, "I was just saying she can leave if she feels uncomfortable. You guys aren't even letting her talk." Upon hearing his words, all the men quiet their bickering and finally give attention to you. All of a sudden, you rather liked it when they didn't have their focus on you.

"Are you? Uncomfortable I mean," Jisung frowns.

You shake your head, "No! No, I'm just nervous, I guess. I didn't think you guys would get so worked up over this. I thought one person would say it was them. Not...all of you."

This makes Chan laugh, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Yeah, well, you got more than you bargained for." A few of the men chuckle. "What do you think we should do then?"

"Me?" You point at yourself.

It's Jisung that speaks, "Duuhh, you. You're the one who came here asking for your fingering prince. It's only fair you make the rules."

You can feel your face heat up at Jisung's joke, but he's right. The eight of them can argue all they want, but it's you who has the reins. One by one, you scan them. There are only vague memories from that night, and you can hardly tell who it might be just by looking at them.

And it's then that an idea pops into your head.

"I don't think I can make a decision just by looking at you guys," you admit. "I think it's better to replicate what happened."

"Replicate?" Jeongin raises an eyebrow and looks amongst his older frat brothers. "What do you mean?"

A sly smile makes its way on your already blushing face, "I think you know what I mean."

It makes sense to go from oldest to youngest.

Chan did the honors of getting you nude waist-down despite Jisung's complaining. You spread your legs, placing your heels on the edge of the cushions with your back flushed against the couch. It's intimidating to see their eyes on you, traveling to your exposed cunt to your embarrassed expression.

"You don't have to be shy baby," Chan smoothes his hand over your thigh. "Got such a pretty pussy. You should show it off all the time."

He laughs at your whine, finding his place beside you as he looks down at your nakedness. Chan hums, fingers traveling lower before going towards your knee again. You appreciate how he works you up. How he takes his time to make sure your hips try to maneuver for his hand to brush against your folds.

Chan is experienced, that's for sure. Even if you can already tell he's not the one from that night, you don't dare tell him. It feels too good to stop what he's started.

"What do you think baby, hm?" He looks at you. "Is this enough to admit it was me? Or do you need a little more?"

You nod, "I think I need a little more." Spreading your legs as further instruction, you gasp when Chan finally makes contact with your heat. He smiles at your slack jaw, opting to kiss your neck and rub soft circles on your clit.

"Feels good, huh?" He mumbles in your ear. "Just tell them it was me, baby. We both know how badly you want to finish."

It's true, you do want to finish. It's why your hips have picked themselves up from the couch and started rutting against his hand. Chan lets your wet folds run over the ridges of his fingers, pressing down more forcefully to add pressure.

"Hey, you can't cum that quick!" Changbin protests against your arrival. "Just hurry up and say if it was him or not!"

You keep quiet, save for the breathy moans and hard breathing. If you do tell the truth, Chan will stop on the brink of your orgasm. But if you lie, everything will come to a stop.

"It's...it's," you shamelessly try to hump his hand, but the impatient look on the seven other guys makes you confess. "It's not."

There's a part of you that thinks Chan might keep going and just let you finish, but he pulls his hand away from you instead. His body completely withdraws from your own as he tuts, shaking his head. "Should've just lied. I would've let you cum as many times as you wanted."

You watch as he puts his soiled fingers in your mouth to suck on, earning a moan from your lips.

Minho takes a different approach, opting to kneel before your spread legs and place his soft hands on the inner of your thighs. His sly eyes look up to your aroused ones as he smiles, "I'll be honest, it wasn't me. But you'll let me play with your pussy anyway, right?"

"No, she won't!" Hyunjin pouts, "You're wasting time! Shoo!"

While Hyunjin's long limbs flail in protest, you keep your attention on Minho. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, waiting for your response. Minho's warm breath sends chills when it comes into contact with your skin, and you find yourself nodding as you grip the undersides of your thighs.

He giggles, "Good girl."

You expect to feel his hot mouth, but you're surprised when he moves his hand to quickly rub against your clit. The sound of your wet folds reverberates throughout the apartment. Your clit is far too sensitive to be played so roughly with, but the sensation brings you back to the edge once more.

Minho watches as your back arches off the couch, how you've thrown your head completely back in pure ecstasy. He leans down to peck the top of your pelvis, a contrast to his relentless rhythm.

"I'm gonna cum," you whine. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum."

Minho smiles, "All over my fingers huh? Little pussy can't handle all this, can she?" He slows his past momentarily to move his other hand towards your entrance, dripping a finger into your pulsing walls. The combination of the rubbing and thrusting has you trembling, hips bucking wildly until Chan has to hold the top of your shoulders from behind to keep you still.

"Stay still baby, you're moving so much."

"So good," you look up at Chan. "Can't stop."

Chan watches as your face contorts into pleasure. Blinding heat fills your stomach and floods your pussy. You distantly hear Minho and a few of the other guys gasp when you cum. Arousal drips down Minho's wrist, pouring out from where his finger is inside.

Finally, you pick your head up to look at the mess, surprised to see Changbin striding to where Minho sits.

"Move move move! It's Binnie's turn!"

You whine when Minho removes his finger, but judging from the look on his face, he isn't too happy about it either. "Impatient ass," he sneers at Changbin, standing up. "I just started."

Changbin doesn't respond, too preoccupied with finding his place between your legs and tapping his cock on your swollen lips.

You gasp, looking down to see the heaviness between his legs, standing unashamed and proud.

"Gross dude!" Jeongin scrunches his nose in disgust. "Pull your pants up. I can see your ass hanging out."

Hyunjin and Seungmin laugh, but Changbin pays no mind. You've been told he has a hard time concentrating on more than one thing at once, but you didn't think he would zone in on you so quickly.

"Let me put it in," Changbin begs, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your slit. "It'll just be the tip, I promise."

You're just about to agree before you remember why you're here. How would you know if Changbin is the one if he doesn't use his fingers? You bite your lower lip, looking between his short fingers to his chubby cock.

"Binnie..." you pout at him. "Those aren't the rules."

He whines, humping his hips quicker as if it could change your mind. "Pleeease! Just one time, let me put it in one time and-"

"Bin," Chan's authoritative voice comes from above you. You feel him tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, reassuring. "Gotta listen to the boss here man."

Changbin looks dejected as his lower lips jut out, but he withdraws his throbbing erection obediently. His solemn expression fills you with pity and you wrap your legs around his waist to keep him from leaving.

"Let's make a little deal, yeah? Tell me the truth if it was you at the party, and I'll let you put the tip in. Okay?"

His eyes lit up a little too quickly, and you repeat yourself. "Just the tip, okay? Only the tip."

"He's not gonna listen," Seungmin shakes his head. "He only thinks with the head between his legs."

The jab has Changbin frowning again, but you tighten your grip around his waist for encouragement. "No, Binnie's a good boy. You'll listen to me, won't you?" Changbin nods, still looking somewhat sulky as he repeats, "Binnie's a good boy." This has you smiling, settling further into the comfortable couch. "I know. So tell me, Binnie, was it you?"

"Yes!"

"Fucking liar," Seungmin swears. "He's full of bullshit."

"Yeah, he's lying!" Hyunjin joins in. "It was me!"

Seungmin moves his cold stare to the taller man, "Why are you so persistent? It was not you." Hyunjin looks like he's about to argue again, but Jisung beats him to it, "Fuck you guys both! It's me!"

You have to tune out their arguing, looking at Changbin who behaves suspiciously. He has a ghost of a smirk on his lips, his eyes can't maintain eye contact longer than two seconds. The cherry on top is his blushing face, red with guilt.

"Binnieee," you drawl. "Are you lying to me?"

With eyebrows raised, you watch as his small smile falls. His lips pucker into something like a scowl, but he looks hopeful. Stupidly hopeful. Changbin shrugs and finally meets your eyes, "Maybe, but that doesn't matter!"

You frown, "You lied to me- oh-" Changbin cuts you off by dipping the fat head of his cock into your entrance. It's so warm, so thick that your cunt wraps around it snugly almost immediately. He rolls his hips to thrust shallowly, feeling your walls try to suck him in deeper.

"That's...That's cheating," you manage to say.

Changbin smiles, pulling his head out to slap it on your clit. "It feels good though."

He places his hand on the base of his cock to aim at your pussy, this time with no scolding from you. Before his tip has the chance to sink back into your heat, Hyunjin yanks him by the shoulder.

"Ya! What are you-"

"You broke the rules," Hyunjin reminds him. "You don't get a turn."

"But she-"

Minho looks rather pleased as he drags the sulky Changbin away from you, mostly likely happy he got his revenge. Though you wave Changbin a pitiful goodbye, your body begins to vibrate with excitement at the arrival of Hyunjin. As beautiful as all the men are, Hyunjin seems to match the brief descriptions you have of your mystery man that night. Long fingers, long hair, and a height that seems to fit.

Hyunjin takes his place next to you, smiling innocently to where you can see his dumpling cheeks and crescent eyes. "How are you doing, beautiful?"

The attention makes you blush, shyly hiding behind your hair as you answer, "I-I'm fine. I...I really wanna cum."

"Again?" He laughs, "You're barely halfway there, you know?" Despite Hyunjin's teasing, his hand travels down your inner thigh to your soaked folds. You gasp at the contact, looking down at his slender fingers rubbing you in circles.

"Mmm, that feels good," you sigh.

Though you aren't looking, Hyunjin beams at the compliment. "Good huh? How about familiar? Does it feel like that too?"

To that, you aren't too sure. Hyunjin is gentle, reassuring, and caring. Even as his digits travel lower to plunge into your cunt, it's still different from the night before. The mystery man was rougher, demanding. Telling you to spread your legs rather than the gentle voice Hyunjin uses.

"Just like that, pretty," Hyunjin whispers in your ear. "Such a good angel for me." Two of his fingers easily slide in and out of you, making you clench and writhe on the couch. His other hand palms his erection at the sight of you and the sound of your moans.

You can feel the men staring at the two of you. Changbin and Jisung have their cock out, stroking at the same face that Hyunjin finger fucks you. Felix seems eager to shove a hand down his pants, but his concentration is glued to your exposed cunt. Minho is whispering something to Jeongin who also can't take his eyes off you, nodding mindlessly to whatever his hung tells him. Chan's heavy hand pats the top of your head, comforting and somewhat wholesome.

"So," Seungmin crosses his arms against his chest, ignoring the raging boner in his pants. "Hurry up and say it's not him."

This makes you shake your head, content with finishing your second orgasm on Hyunjin's hand. His palm slaps against your cunt, briefly coming into contact with your clit. It's so good, so good that you might lie and say it was Hyunjin that night.

"Don't stop," you whine, pleading with Hyunjin.

He leans down and places a chaste kiss on your lips. His lips are plump, full, and wet with salvia. Your mouth chases his when he pulls away, earning a chuckle from him. "Wasn't planning on it."

Hyunjin slows his pace to add another finger, stretching you with three digits before he's pumping again. You squeal at the speed, hands grasping onto the cushions to ground yourself. Your entire body feels hot, overstimulated to the point of fainting. Your heels dig into the couch as your high builds throughout your body.

To make your climax powerful, Chan reaches down and flicks your clit rapidly. A mixture of a scream and a moan tear through your chest and you bury your face in Hyunjin's neck to conceal your embarrassing sounds.

"She's gonna cum again," Felix notes, eyes wide.

The men watch as your body begins to convulse once again, arousal dripping further onto the couch and some to the floor.

"Whatever," Minho snorts. "I made her cum first."

"Yeah, with my help," Chan looks up to narrow his eyes accusingly.

It's in the midst of their banter that you cum, shaking and filled with burning pleasure. Hyunjin's fingers hardly slow their pace, but Chan hears your muffled cries and slows his rubbing. Your drool begins to seep onto Hyunjin's expensive shirt, but he pays no mind to it. He's too caught up in the way your sensitive body jolts and quivers with every thrust.

He only stops when he feels warm tears soak his shirt. His fingers slip out of your cunt, taking a few strings of arousal with it. He cradles your face in his hands, looking worried.

"Oh, my sweet angel," he coos. "Was that too much for you?"

You're still vibrating with pleasure, jumping when Chan tenderly grips your neck.

"G-good," you manage to choke out. "S-so good. More, more. Wanna keep cumming."

The anxious expression on Hyunjin's face fades, and you hear a few of the men chuckle at your admission.

"You can cum many times as you want, baby," Chan confirms. "But we need to know, was it him?"

For a moment, you're confused. Was what who? Who was what? Your brain flicks with thinking before the light bulb goes off.

"It wasn't him, was it?" Jeongin hopes, eyes shining with hope and arousal.

Your mind is half-broken, barely managing to say, "Not...not him." Hyunjin groans in frustration, throwing his head back dramatically. "Fuck! I so thought she was gonna say it was me. Didn't think her brain would still work after all that!"

Hyunjin stands up, defeated. The space next to you feels cold and empty, but Chan's warm touch keeps you feeling floaty and safe. You reach up to grasp onto his form, mewling and pawing at any physical contact you can get.

"Shhh, everything's okay baby. We're right here," Chan leans down to whisper in your ear. "You're halfway there."

a/n: holy shit this is taking me soooooooo long so I decided to break it into parts lmao I apologize. *slightly* proof-read ill be honest. tell me how you like it! taglist: @hyunjinhoexxx, @sharonxdevi, @thexemyy, @linocvp1d, @nahimgoodmom, @oddracha, @ihrtlix, @soobin-is-squishy, @kwanisms-replies, @scrumptiousbasketballranchalien, @got-me-seein-stars, @mkbum(also if you guys want to keep up with fics just tell me you wanna be tagged in the comments or something)

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catcze · 6 months

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not particularly a request if u don't want it to be but as a fellow wriothesley enjoyer I wanted to share this idea

fontaine is based off of france right? so the thought of wrio being able to speak french and absolutely using that to his advantage to be a flirt has been driving me insane. he would be INSUFFERABLE (especially if his s/o isn't fluent) and I'd be loving every second of it

(also love your works <3 it's the main fuel that's been making me so horrifically down bad for him)

OH ?!!? MY GOD ?!?! HEHAKJDJ FUCK I HAVE TO WRITE THIS I CANT NOT !! It's a little short and a little sweet, but i hope you like it!

(Translations listed at the end! I used google translate, so if there's any mistakes, please feel free to correct me!!)

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

Wriothesley has started to say things to you on the regular— but for the life of you, you can't understand. It starts first on a slow day. You're lounging in his office, reading a random book you've plucked from his shelves. He's just looking through some papers, doing nothing too important.

Then, Wriothesley glances up from his papers, lets his eyes fall on you. "Tu me rends si heureux."

And you're furrowing your brow in confusion, staring at him. It's a phrase form his mother tongue, that much you know. But you're not sure what it actually means. The way his smile is a bit too mischievous, you don't think that he intends for you to understand, anyway.

"I'm... sorry?" You ask. What else can you say? You're pretty sure from his insufferably smug expression that he's not going to tell you what it means anytime soon. At the very least, you're pretty sure he's not shit talking you to your face.

Your eyes narrow.

Probably.

He can see the question on the tip of your tongue, the suspicious glance you cast his way. Wriothesley just chuckles and goes back to the papers on his desk.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart."

The next time, he does it as you're having dinner across from each other in the cafeteria. Your meal is halfway done, having been practically shoveled into your mouth. It probably paints an unflattering picture, but you're too hungry to really care. Resting on the table, he's stubbornly gripping your hand in his own, fingers intertwined. Even though it made eating much more difficult, Wriothesley would scowl and reach back for your hand whenever you tried to take it away, so you just considered it a lost cause.

Lost in filling your stomach, you're almost don't hear what he says.

"Je ne peux pas imaginer le reste de ma vie sans toi." Wriothesley mumbles, thumb stroking the back of your hand tenderly.

You narrow your eyes again, a silent question.

Wriothesley just smiles secretively and raises a hand to his mouth, miming zipping up his lips and locking it with a key, then tossing it away. He winks at you, and you roll your eyes. No answers today, apparently.

"Are you ever going to tell me what it is you've been saying?" you ask once you've swallowed your food.

"Mm. Maybe one day. If I feel like it." And he's grinning again— the cheeky one that he wears whenever he one-ups you, that showcases his dimples and his teeth. You kinda want to punch him, but it also makes you remember how handsome he is when he smiles.

"Fine," you grumble, sighing. You busy yourself once more with your food. "Keep your fucking secrets. See if I care." You do. A lot, actually. You're very curious now.

Wriotheley just smiles and lets you eat.

But he slips up, one evening. To be fair, it's late at night after a hard day's work. Both of you are exhausted— a tangled mass of limbs and sheets on your bed, both of you halfway asleep already.

Your head is cushioned on his chest, nose pressed against his collarbone, and his arms wrapped around you. Wriothesley's nose is pressed into the crown of your head, breathing in the smell of your hair. His breaths are deep and slow, and you can tell without even looking that his eyes are fighting to stay awake. You're no better, though.

Just before you nod off though, you can feel the brush of his lips against your hair. "Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement," he says quietly, lips brushing the strands in affection. If you had just been the slightest bit more asleep, you might not have even heard it.

But while you may not be fluent in his language, may know little else aside from the most basic of phrases, you recognize that one. It's hard not to, when it's arguably one of the most popular phrases from his mother tongue. Je t'aime. I love you.

Something gooey finds its way into your chest, and the blood rushes through your body as you're overcome by the sheer sweetness of the man you're laying on. Slowly, you crane your neck up to face him, and can see the slight widening of his eyes, the quiet oh shit that runs through his head.

"Is that what you've been saying?" you ask, voice just as quiet as his. Wriothesley hesitates, arms tightening their hold on you.

"... generally, yes."

You smile gently, scooching up enough to press a kiss to his jaw, then to his lips, giggling when he leans down to make it easier for you. You bury your head into his neck then, resting your cheek against him. "I love you too, Wrio."

Translations:

Tu me rends si heureux. — You make me so happy. Je ne peux pas imaginer le reste de ma vie sans toi. — I can't imagine the rest of my life without you. Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement. — I love you. I love you so much

#astronetwrk #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #genshin impact #wriothesley #also !! thank you so much for loving my works ily ♡♡

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snowsinterlude · 4 months

Text

teacher's pet.

(teacher!coriolanus x student reader)

summary: desperate to pass chemistry, you decided to take matters into your own hands as you stayed until late at school.

based on this ask.

c.w: teacher x student, reader is 19 due to repeating a year, oral (m. recieving), cum swallowing, boob pinching/biting, p in v, mildly public sex, spitting, explicit content, explicit description of sex.

being the worst student at the academy and having repeated a year, you took matters into your own hands and decided to do your best this year, not wanting to be left behind again.

however, chemistry was the worst class you could have had, it didn't seem to make sense in your pretty little head, you would always pout with the pencil against your lips and would be crying without any tears running down, it felt humiliating. you could aways feel the teacher staring at you across the class and laughing at the faces you made to his class.

he was one of the few teachers that were actually descent looking, always had his hair perfectly combed and god, how can one look hot with glasses like his?

you questioned yourself everyday about how you were supposed to pass his class, the only answer you could find wasn't something that he would be willing to do, i mean- he didn’t seem like someone who would let his student suck his dick in order to get good grades.

but you were desperate. desperate times calls for desperate answers.

so now, for your own surprise, you were on your knees now, who would know that he would actually accept it?

"c'mon, professor snow. i'm sure you have a lot of tensional pent up, i can make it go away." you said, your fingers brushing up against his as you quietly smiled at him.

"and why would you do it?" he asked, not even looking away from the tests he was correcting as he pulled his hand away from yours.

"this way everybody wins, don't you think? you get relief from your stress and i get my grades to, you know, graduate."

"and why do you think i would do it?"

"i see how you look at me, professor." you smiled.

and for your upmost surprise, he angrily looked at you, pinning you to the table. "if you want to suck my dick so much you don't have to made up lies to get on your knees." he said, and you gulped down hard, heat going all the way up your cheeks. you almost said sorry for the disrespect but you were immediatly shut down by his lips slamming on yours.

you hummed something, but it only served to let his tongue into your mouth as he made you sit on his desk, your legs getting spread up to let him closer to you.

you passed your arms through his neck, letting him deepen the kiss more than you thought that was capable. by the end of it, there was a small, almost invisible string of saliva connecting you both. you looked into his eyes with your own confused ones, even though you were the one who proposed that.

in less than a few minutes, you were on your knees, seeing him drop his pants to his knees, his hand grabbing his dick and slapping your face with it as you gladly suck on the tip of his dick, earning a groan out of his mouth.

"are you really that desperate?" he asked, his answer being the bobbing of your head on his cock as your hand found the base of his dick that didn't fit into your mouth to masturbate it. "fuck, seems like we have a answer."

his hands found your head quickly, it isn't even necessary to say that he was pounding his dick into your mouth, every groan he made was kept into your brain as you licked him, from the veins to the tip.

insatiable, you drooled all over him, getting him as wet as you were right now. he pulled you away from his dick by pulling your hair back, taking advantage of your agape mouth to spit on it.

he pulled you to stand up, bending you over the desk as he ripped your panties out of your body, shoving it into your mouth as he finally caught a sight of your bare wetness.

"ohh," he chuckled, grabbing your ass with gluttony. he kissed your shoulder, ripping the buttons of your blouse and freeing your boobs from the fabric. "it seems like you were dirtier than i expected you to be," he murmured, dick pressing against your core. "how naughty."

he pinched your nipples, twirling them and making you moan once you were finally penetrated by his dick. he grunted at how tight you were squeezing his dick.

it didn't happen as quick as you thought it would. even after you already came on his cock, your moans echoing through the classroom as he kept on hitting you from behind.

milking him with your walls, you were a drooling crying mess, the panties shoved in your mouth didn't allow you to voice your pleas, and that was the only way he had to keep you quiet, you didn't knew why nor how but he seemed to be aware that you were a loud fucker.

with that being said, you gifted him with the view of you fucking him back, bouncing on his cock as you closed your eyes shut, it didn't matter if they were open or not, your sight was blurry enough for you to notice him.

turning you to look at him, he put you to sit on the table before entering you again, kissing your temple and your tears as he fucked you raw- after all, why would a teacher bring condoms to a school? pushing those thoughts away, he fucked you dumb, he took the panties out of your mouth only to pull you in a nasty kiss, his saliva mixing with yours as he sucked on your neck, kissing the hickey he just gave you.

"you're almost cumming aren't you?" he asked, and you nodded frantically "i can feel it. your pussy is clenching on my cock like you're in heat." he said, chuckling.

for your relief, he thrusted inside you once again, his cock kissing your uterus just right to make you cry as you came on his cock.

he pulled out of you, cumming on your stomach and chest instead, he wouldn’t be making you pregnant- not today.

drooling and breathing heavily, you gulped down, tasting the dryness of your throat.

"g-grades... how are m...my grades?" you asked, and he chuckled as he pulled his pants up.

"i just fucked you raw and you're talking about grades? how cruel." he joked, and you didn't even answered rightfully, trying to breath.

"you passed, dear. you had passed already even before doing all that." he said, kissing your temple and walking away.

your eye twitched, did you really just fucked a teacher for a grade you already had?

#coriolanus snow x reader #young coriolanus snow #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #young president snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tbosas smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #x reader #teacher x student

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darknight3904 · 4 months

Text

See You in the Morning, Coryo

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪:ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ' ᴀʀɢᴜᴍᴇɴᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴄʟɪᴍᴀx ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ / ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇʀ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ. ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ ᴄʜᴀɪɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴜᴘ. ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴ ᴀ ꜱᴇxʏ ᴡᴀʏ, ꜱᴀᴅʟʏ.

The first time you met him you were 12. It was only your fourth day at the Capitol's Academy and you wished you could go home and bury yourself in your bed and never return. You had yet to meet anyone interested in being friends with you, the homeschooled freak who started oh so late compared to her peers. Sure, you had met Arachne and Festus at big lavish parties your parents threw but that didn't mean they liked you.

And then, on your fourth day of school, everything changes. Big blue eyes are fixated on the overly large sandwich and fruit bowl that had been in your lunch bag. A soft gurgle of a hungry stomach fills your ears and you turn to see a boy with the prettiest blonde curls atop his head staring at you.

"Do you want a piece? Our maid always packs too much and I can never finish it. You can have some if you want." You ask, picking up a strawberry and holding it out to him.

He hesitates for a moment but eventually reaches out and takes a small bite.

"Don't you have a lunch today?" You ask

"I already ate it." He said

Something inside you said he was lying and so you offered the rest of the fruit to him. Your sandwich would be enough for today, after all, no one should go hungry if another had something else to give.

You chat with the boy with blue eyes and pretty blonde curls. His name is Coriolanus Snow and he lives with his Grandma'am and his cousin. You smile at him as he eats the fruit, savoring the taste of the grapes that were mixed in. As you sit beside your new friend, you smile to yourself and hope he'll be your friend tomorrow too.

"You're not leaving. I won't let you."

Coriolanus knows how bad it sounds. He knows you're angry when you go to step around him and he blocks your path. Your engagement ring feels like a brick as it sits in his shirt pocket.

"Coryo. Move. I'm going home." You say, determined to get away from him.

Where do you think you're running off to? You have no place in society besides your spot next to him.

"You can't. You have to stay here. With me." He insists, hoping his softer tone will change your silly little mind.

"Please, Coriolanus. Just let me go home for tonight. I'll come back tomorrow. I promise." You whisper.

He hates that. Coriolanus. Why are you calling him that? He's always been Coryo to you why are you changing it now? The way his full name lingers in the air makes his blood boil.

Rage is something that's hard to control. Coriolanus has seen it first hand when the Districts rebelled against the Capitol all those years ago. He saw it Dr. Gaul when Lucy Gray survived her snakes thanks to him. He sees it now, in you as you give him a hard shove to his shoulders and begin moving toward the door.

Rage. That's why he does it. It's something he and so many others can't control. Rage. What a funny concept it is, how it causes someone to think so irrationally.

Truly though, you are to blame for it all. If only you had just talked to him rationally. taking off your ring and throwing a fit, demanding to go home like you're some petulant child who needs a nap.

Perhaps this will change your attitude, after all, you couldn't just run off, he needed you.

There's an ache in the back of your skull when you finally open your eyes. A soft blanket is covering you and the soft scent of apples and cinnamon is wafting through the air.

"This is your favorite, right?"

A voice that used to bring a smile to your face now sends a jolt of fear down your spine as you quickly sit up.

Coriolanus is sitting in a plush-looking chair, with your favorite candle burning on a little side table next to him.

What the hell had he done to you?

"You sat up too quickly. There's some painkillers on the nightstand if you want them." He says

His voice is so calm as you gradually take in your new surroundings.

"Where am I?" You croak, your voice sounds terrible.

"You're still in our mansion. This is the basement. Part of it anyway. Over the past two weeks, I got them to transform a section of it into a room perfect for you." He says, closing the book in his lap.

Weeks? How long had it been since that dinner when you tried to leave? What the hell had even happened? The last thing you clearly remember was shoving Coriolanus and beginning to walk away. Had he hit you with something? But then how did he keep you down for two weeks so he could bring you here?

"You're wondering what happened. I'm not proud of it but I hit you with a serving tray before you could leave."

Your mind briefly conjures up the silver trays that the food you often enjoyed was served on.

"I had a doctor give you injections to keep you asleep until this room was ready. The headache you feel is the hangover from the drugs, not a concussion. I made sure he gave you an exam and he's cleared you from any injuries."

Corionus' explanation is making your brain ache. What the fuck was happening? Why are you in a basement bedroom instead of your normal one? When was he going to let you out? Would he ever let you out?

Your stomach gurgles and you just barely make it to the small garbage can that's sitting on the ground next to the bed.

"Ah, the doctor said vomiting was another side effect. I'm sure it will pass soon." Coriolanus says, unbothered as you heave up whatever gunk he had gotten the doctor to pump into your stomach.

You wipe your face with the back of your hand, wishing for something to take away the burning at the back of your throat.

"Alright. Since you're awake now, I'll be leaving. Lots of meetings today and the arena is nearly ready I just have to approve a few more things." Coriolanus says, standing up and fixing his tie as he begins to walk away.

"Wait." You groan, trying to reach out to him

"I'll be back for dinner. I know how much you love to listen to me talk about my day."

Two months later

There's been a certain warmness about you recently. Perhaps it's the flowers he brought you your maybe the fact that he takes the heavy chain off your ankle when he visits you. He decides it's the latter as he watches thumb through the new books he handed you.

"Do you like them?" He asks

"Yes." You smile as you gently place them on your shelf.

You're so effortlessly pretty, even here, locked away from the sunlight and every inch of society. Here, you're all his, every bit of you hinges on him opening the heavy metal door that keeps you here. It's been so long since you had even tried to argue or fight back against him. Sure, the beginning had been rough, you had thrown things at him and had at one point threatened him with a butter knife but now you we so docile. Almost like he had domesticated a wild animal and now it was trained perfectly.

"Could you bring the little cakes tonight?" You ask

"The ones with the powdered sugar on top?"

You nod as you sit on your bed, stretching out your right ankle which is marked with a heavy bruise from the chain he had to put on you. It wasn't what he wanted but after you tried attacking him when he entered the room on the second day of your enclosure, he knew it was a necessity.

"I'll have the chef make extra. We can eat as many as you like and get fat." He teases

You smile at him but he can see something else behind your eyes.

Sadness.

You remind him of a bird with clipped wings. Freedom so effortlessly in reach but unable to fly to reach it.

If only he could trust you enough to let you back into the main floors of the mansion.

Time passes slowly whenever Coriolanus is gone and it gives you time to think. You were going mad, chained up all day, waiting for him to bring you your meals and sit with you at night. So in an effort to chase your impending insanity away, you thought. You thought about your childhood and if things would be different had you never given Coriolanus that stupid bowl of fruit. Perhaps you'd be head of your father's company now, or maybe you'd be married to some elite capitol man.

Your mind was always racing, overanalyzing every little thing and every little mistake you had ever made.

Perhaps you should've never confronted him about those pictures. If you had just slipped out of the mansion one day what would had happened? Maybe he would've caught you or perhaps you would've made it back to your parents, back to your old life and self.

How naive you had been at that gala years ago, thinking that you didn't need anything but Coriolanus. What a stupid girl you had grown up to be.

The past few weeks had been rough. You had been sucking up to Coriolanus to be let back into the main part of the mansion. You claimed to just want to feel sunlight again. Of course, you also planned on running the moment you had an opening but he didn't need to know that half.

Coriolanus was simply insane, it was a conclusion you had come to after all these long days. Maybe he had always been like this but you were just too blind to see it. Maybe his nice gestures and honey-coated words had disguised the monster that lurked behind those eyes. All you knew was that he was the worst man in all of Panem and here you sat, suffering all because you were his favorite.

"My heart burns for you."

What a load of bullshit.

He stays true to his word and arrives that night for dinner, cakes in hand. Silenced Avoxes serve you your food and Coriolanus sits across from you at the table that had mysteriously appeared one night when you were asleep. The chain on your ankle made an unpleasant sound as you shifted in your seat.

"The salmon is nice, isn't it?" Coriolanus asks as he eats

"Yes, it's wonderful. Very buttery." You say, struggling to find exactly what was good about it.

You didn't want salmon, you didn't really want anything anymore, perhaps you were finally giving into whatever game he was playing by keeping you here.

"I've decided to replace the curtains throughout the mansion. I've found the blue to be a bit ugly. Tomorrow there will be beautiful maroon ones hung." He informs you

You had hand-picked the blue ones, years ago.

"I'm sure they will be beautiful." You say looking down at your lap.

Coriolanus stops chewing and sets his silverware down.

"If you're going to mock me, you shouldn't even open your mouth. You know I hate it when you're full of attitude so why do you still try?" He says

It's a warning. You know it, he knows it.

"I know. I was being serious." You say, "I hope I get to see the maroon curtains soon, Coriolanus."

"Coryo." He corrects, placing a bite of food in his mouth

"Coryo." You parrot.

He smiles, pleased with you.

"You will, soon."

Dinner passes slowly as you finish your salmon to the tune of Coriolanus' talking. Something about the latest games being a wonderful success and that the big finale would be either tomorrow or the next. He suggests you watch on the little TV that sits in the corner, untouched, it was something that was added a week ago, specifically so you could watch the games. You promise to watch and he smiles at you again.

Coriolanus bids you goodnight after dessert. He double-checks your chain before straightening up and gently kissing your forehead.

"Goodnight, darling. I'll see you in the morning."

"See you in the morning, Coryo."

The past week had been going nearly perfectly for Coriolanus. Not only had the games been perfect, but you had been impressing him. Sure, a few days ago at dinner you had called him Coriolanus and he nearly lost his cool after he thought you insulted the curtains but that was behind him now.

He had finally concluded that he'd release you from the basement. He missed your presence in the mansion and at the normal dinner table. He wasn't quite sure about letting you have full roam yet, perhaps he'd sedate you during the days and let you walk around at night, when he could personally keep an eye on you before bedtime. The idea of one of the Axoxes watching you didn't sit right, after all, if you ran what would they do? They couldn't even shout for help to bring you back inside.

He was positively giddy as he walked down the many flights of steps that led to where you were. He wanted to show you the greenhouse first. Sure, you had seen it before but the way the roses were blooming recently was simply too good to pass up. He had planted new ones recently too, blushing pink ones that reminded him of you and your warmness to him.

The metal door was cool against his palm as he opened it to reveal your darkened room. The door let out a heavy groan as it shut behind him.

It wasn't uncommon for you to be sleeping when he entered, he often visited during the night and would watch you, as if you were going to disappear. However, this time the darkness confused him. It was the middle of the day, surely you weren't still asleep?

The soft clink of that ridiculous chain filled his ears as he stepped towards the lamp that sat on your shelf.

"Are you hiding from me, darling?" He asked into the darkness, ready to scoop you up and hold you close.

Silence answered his question as his eyes tried to focus on anything.

The softest rustle of fabric fills his ears as he quickly turns to his right. The slightest shimmer of color reaches his eyes, illuminated by what little light wormed its way under the door. It's you, in that sweater you often wore.

"I see you." He says reaching out to what he thinks might be your arm. "What a pretty shade of blue that is. I'll have a designer make a dress in that color for you."

He swears he hears you whisper his name but perhaps it was just in his head as he steps forward.

Coriolanus feels the smile that was on his face drop into his stomach when he hears it again, the rustle of fabric. You were behind him now.

His hands twitch one, then twice, and before he can react, you're there, in front of him again, anger polluting your pretty face.

His lips form your name but it never leaves his mouth. Instead, the cool metal of that chain he had intended on removing was cutting his vocal cords off.

The chain he hated putting on you, the chain you had desperately tried to claw off many times as he watched through a grainy video feed was rapidly wrapping its way around his neck, ready to destroy him.

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weird-is-life · 2 months

Note

Can I request a shy reader and Spencer's fic. When the reader works at a flower shop, Spencer comes in there looking for flowers. And the reader goes on a little rant about what he should buy and what each flower means.

Hii lovely, ty for the request! Hope this is okay🙈warnings: use of y/n, fluff, a few swear words, (0.9k)

Spencer needs to buy some flowers for Emily. It's her birthday and he's always brought her flower before, so even if he's already running late to her birthday dinner, he can't not go buy her some flowers.

He goes into the first flower shop, he spots on the way to Emily's apartment and that's where he finds you.

It's almost the closing time, so you are just sitting behind the counter, reading some book. Spencer immediately thinks he's in love.

He swears, you are the prettiest girl, he's ever seen and the fact, that you are too absorbed in your book to even notice him, makes you even more attractive to Spencer.

You finally notice him as he's a few steps away from the counter. You quickly slam the book shut and try not to look too caught off guard.

You weren't expecting anybody to come to the shop anymore and you definitely weren't expecting it to be a very handsome guy.

His messy, curly hair, expensive-looking black suit and the small stubble have you buckling at your knees. You are sure, that if you weren't sitting on the chair, you would be on the ground.

"H-hi," you somewhat compose yourself, "w-what can I help you with?"

He shoots you a smile and you're pretty sure that your cheeks go very red," Hi, I was wondering if I could get some flowers?"

"D-do you have any specific in mind?" you ask, barely holding an eye contact with him. You are shy and he isn't helping your situation at all.

"Ye-...No, I don't. Can you recommend me some?" Spencer literally knows the meaning of every flower you have in this shop, but something about you makes him shut his mouth, so he can stay here longer.

"I can, yes," you smile sheepishly at him, "who are they supposed to be for?"

"My friend, it's her birthday today," you would be lying, if you said that your heart didn't skip a beat at hearing that it's for his friend and not a girlfriend. You thought, that he was getting flowers for his girlfriend.

"W-well, I'd suggest, that you should definitely get some yellow flowers for her. Yellow color represents friendship, would that be okay?" you hesitantly ask. Spencer just nods encouragingly.

"Okay, so we could do some mixed bouquet. Yellow roses are definitely a yes, you can't go wrong with that, they are beautiful and smell amazing. We should also add sunflowers, they represent loyalty and adoration of the friendship. Oh and mums are grest, too. They can really make the bouquet come alive, they are like the spirit of optimism. We could also-," you ramble about each flower, that you put in the bouquet for him.

Spencer listens to your every word with a happy smile, you remind him of himself with your rambling and to be honest, he finds it adorable.

You are done too quickly tho and Spencer finds himself wanting to hear you speak again.

But his phone rings and he doesn't even need to pick up to know, that the team is wondering, where he is.

"Here, i-is this okay?" you hand the insanely pretty bouquet to him. Spencer's grin basically answers your question.

"Thank you, thank you. It couldn't be more perfect. You're a total lifesaver..." he looks at your name tag, "y/n. Thank you, y/n."

You are certain, that your cheeks couldn't be more red as they are right now. Spencer's compliment makes you blush like a fool.

"Oh. I'm..I'm glad, that you like it." You stutter out your response, looking at the ground. You carefully wrap the bouquet in the flower wrapping paper and tell him the price of it.

He pays it and before you can say no, he puts a bigger tip than it's normal into the tip jar.

Spencer then slowly leaves thanking you as he goes. And right before the door closes, it looks like Spencer wants to tell you something else, but in the last second he shakes his head and dissappears.

You wave him a shy goodbye, you are a little disappointed even if you don't really know why. Well okay, maybe you do know why. But you shouldn't have put your hopes up, thinking the handsome stranger felt the spark like you did. And that maybe, only maybe, he'd ask you out.

You sigh and sluggishly start to clean up the counter to finally close the shop and go home. The door bell rings again and your head immediately shoots up.

He runs up to the counter, a little out of breath, "shit, I'm sorry to bother you again. I don't usually do this, like ever, it's just....Would you like to go out with me sometimes? Like for a-a coffee? You can say no of course, hell, I'd totally understand if you said no." Spencer's now the one to rumble.

"I-I'd love to," you, surprising even yourself, reply immediately. Cheeks, of course, burning red.

"It's okay- Wait, really?" Spencer was totally expecting you to reject him.

"Yes, really....." you want to say his name.

"Spencer, my name is Spencer," he quickly understands.

"Spencer, " you try out his name," I'd love to Spencer, here." You bravely scramble your phone number on a piece of paper and give it to him.

Spencer takes it with a huge smile, "I'll call you, " he looks like he wants to stay longer, but looks at his watch and curses under his breath," I'm so late. I gotta go, but I'll call you, I promise."

"Bye, Spencer," you say sweetly and Spencer already knows he's fucked. Not even one date and he knows, he's down bad.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 8 months

Note

If you're comfortable with doing smut, can you do a yan! best friend fic where reader says one night "I'm still a virgin" (yk because he never lets them go out) so he almost immediately changes that.

Will oblige <3

(Reader) cracked open another beer, a small frown on their tipsy face as they sat on their living room floor.

Not three hours earlier, (Reader) had been excitedly trying to sneak out of work after clocking off, hoping to do so without being caught by their best friend. (Reader) had seen their best friend getting chewed out by their management, so a small (not so) guilty part of them hoped that he would be stuck staying late to make up for whatever it was that he had done wrong. But as (Reader) silently clocked off, Max's voice right behind them startled (Reader) so bad they released a squeak.

"Why do you look so guilty?" He had meant it as a joke, but (Reader's) uncomfortable attempt at a smile caught him off guard.

"Heyyy.. I thought you were working late?"

"No? Why would I be?"

(Reader) swallowed hard, a tight smile still twitching on their lips. "Ah, the stars told me so! I knew astrology was a sham!" They replied sarcastically, unable to contain their annoyance.

"Is everything okay, (Reader)?" Max asked in a concerned tone, leaning in to better read (Reader's) expressions.

"I was just... hoping to go out drinking tonight. I was pretty excited to get home quickly and get changed."

Max's concern melted into another happy smile. "Oh, that sounds like fun!"

"Really?!" (Reader) was sure that Max would lecture them on the dangers of public drinking, or the disturbing hygiene levels of pubs, which is why they wanted to sneak out in the first place. Max was an amazing friend. An understanding, ride-or-die kind of man, (Reader's) sidekick since middle school, extremely hot, and the only person (Reader) felt they could trust with (almost) any secret.

There was only one problem..

Max was controlling. He was never mean about it, and (Reader) never felt like their friendship was abusive, but he was so nervous about everything that (Reader) didn't have much of a social life outside of work and it was starting to drive them crazy. He even moved in to the apartment right next to (Reader) so that whenever they tried to go out without him, he always knew.

"Of course! Why don't you start heading home, and I'll go pick up some beers?"

(Reader's) heart sunk. "S-sounds good.." they feebly attempted to appear pumped, smiling while raising a fist.

Which is why (Reader) was now in their comfortable pajamas getting drunk on the floor in front of their couch, increasingly becoming more and more frustrated while their best friend watched TV, oblivious to (Reader's) bubbling anger.

The dumb comedy made Max chuckle, the booze turning him silly. Usually it was contagious, but at that moment his laughter grated on (Reader's) nerves.

Max finally got the hint that (Reader) might be upset when they loudly crushed their empty can in irritation. "What's going on down there, (Nickname)?"

"I wanted to drink at a bar." (Reader) grumbled, reaching for another drink.

"What? Why?" Max asked, honestly confused as to where this was coming from. "Bars aren't safe, especially for cute people like you. Do you know how many people only go to bars to try and take home drunk people?"

His words snapped (Reader's) patience. "That's what I was going for."

"What?!"

(Reader) jumped to their feet, exasperated. "Oh my GOD, Max. I have needs! I want to fuck, Max, I. Want. To. Fuck." They ran their hands through their hair, leaving Max shell shocked and bright red. "It's getting pathetic, like, really sad. I can't even masturbate, because I'm afraid you'll hear me through the walls."

They collapsed back onto their ass, hands covering their heated eyes.

"You've chased away everyone I've ever had a crush on. I've never had a real relationship. I'm still a virgin. I just wanted to go out and have fun..." (Reader) whined, almost on the verge of tears.

Max slinked off the couch towards (Reader's) curled up form, gently prying (Reader's) hands away from their eyes. "Why didn't you ever consider me?"

"What?" (Reader) pulled away, falling back onto their elbows as Max continued crawling over them.

"I spent so many years praying you would look at me like a man instead of just as your friend. If you were so pent up, why didn't you ever turn to me?"

(Reader) flushed, their dumb little drunk mind having difficulty understanding what Max was trying to say. "Y-you're only saying that because you're drunk." They stuttered, the feeling of their friend's breath tickling their lips making them squeeze their thighs shut instinctively.

"Do you remember, when we were in highschool, and you told me that you liked Robin? That less than average looking basketball player?" Max leaned in, trapping (Reader) with his arms as one knee forced apart their legs, pressing against their crotch. "Do you remember how hard I worked to constantly keep you two apart?"

(Reader) bit their lip to contain a moan. Why were they so turned on right now? They tried to convince themselves it was the alcohol, but the scent of Max's favorite aftershave was making them quiver.

"There's nothing embarrassing about being a virgin, (Reader).." Max tugged on their ear lobe with his teeth, "but if you want, I'll gladly take it for you."

Despite his words of consent, Max's lips were on (Reader's) before they could answer, hungry and dominating, tasting every corner of their mouth while he rubbed his knee against (Reader's) fully aroused sex.

Pulling back, Max smirked at the blushing mess under him, wiping some of (Reader's) saliva off his lip with his thumb. "I never wanted to be your friend." He pulled off his shirt, while smiling almost teasingly.

'This isn't like Max...' (Reader's) half gone mind puzzled. It was like he was possessed.

"Do you know how painful it was, being in love with someone as oblivious as you? How many times you would invite me to sleepovers, and I would spend the entire night watching you sleep?"

His large hands reached down to his zipper, drawing (Reader's) attention to the noticable bulge straining against his pants. "I wanted our first time together to be after you finally fell for me, but..." he pulled down the zipper, and released his erect cock out over the top of his boxers. "... I have the rest of our lives to make you love me."

(Reader's) eyes widened at the size. They hadn't seen a dick that big in real life before, their only frame of reference for erections being in porn. "I don't think that'll fit." They spoke quietly, almost in a whisper.

Max smiled wider, his eyes almost watering with how hot they had become. "It will if you make sure it's wet enough." And for the first time that night, (Reader) understood what Max was saying. They sat up, nervously bringing their face closer towards Max's exposed dick. With experimental touches, their fingers danced along his shaft. At first they were scared that in their drunkenness they couldn't make Max feel good, but soon what little was left of their mind was overcome by desire. (Reader) kissed the tip before thrusting Max's cock as deep into their throat as it could reach. They had imagined themselves doing this so many times that (Reader) thought they knew what to do, but the smell and taste, the building yearning in their groin, and his pleasured moans... There was so much happening all at once that it made it hard to focus on just sucking him off.

(Reader) looked up into Max's eyes, searching for approval, searching for a sign that they were doing a good job. Apparently looking up was the right thing to do, because Max cried out suddenly and pulled himself out of (Reader's) mouth. "God, you're so cute! I can't hold it anymore, (Reader)..."

Max stood to remove his clothes entirely, before getting back on his knees to tear off (Reader's) pajamas. As their pants came off, it was received that they hadn't been wearing any sort of undergarments, which made Max pause, eyes widening and scarlet face deepening.

"Is.. is something wrong?" (Reader) asked fearfully.

"You're more beautiful than I imagined."

As (Reader) soaked in his words, Max was already positioning his drool lubricated member against (Reader's) hole.

He slowly entered his best friend, and laughed as he felt their body swallow him up. "God, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do this!" The second he was fully submerged he began fucking (Reader) hard and fast, unable to hold himself back, especially when their pleased gasps and cries of pleasure sang from their lips unconstrained. (Reader) clawed at Max's back, not knowing where to put their hands but needing to touch him everywhere.

"Fuck, you look so sexy right now. I love you so much, (Reader)."

(Reader) felt their walls subconsciously constrict at Max's words. They thought about every single time they had ever noticed how attractive he was, and how they would chastise themselves for thinking about their best friend that way.

"I love you too."

Max leaned back, pulling (Reader) up with them as he continued pumping in and out of (Reader) like a machine. "Say it again."

Something was getting tighter in (Reader's) stomach, and they felt like it was going to pop.

"I love you too!"

Max's speed picked up, like a desperate animal. "Again."

"I love you, Max!"

A hot feeling spread throughout (Reader's) insides as Max came inside them, his thick cum triggering their own orgasm.

His hold on (Reader) did not loosen, keeping his grip cemented as though they would disappear if he let go. Even after (Reader) passed out he didn't pull out, simply lying back with (Reader) now on his stomach. Max finally had them, the person he had been head over heels for for the past decade. And as he fell asleep what replayed in his now sober mind wasn't how (Reader's) body felt on his, but their words, echoing on loop in his mind.

"I love you too!"

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere best friend #yandere behavior #romance #thanks for the ask!#i hope you enjoy

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