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smuthospital · 7 months

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⭐️Yandere Husband x reader⭐️

Premise: Your husband really wants kids, but you're not really all for the idea

Warning: Noncon, breeding, fem reader

Minors DNI

You prepared a cute little basket with bread, some homemade jam and a couple of sandwiches along with a delicious strawberry cake you baked just for today! You look up at the playground from where you're sitting, the breeze feeling just right. It's a beautiful day out. Kids playing, people walking their dogs, couples like yourself picnicking. You and your husband have been together for three years and married one. He's the sweetest man in the world and you couldn't feel luckier to be with him. Your mother introduced him to you. He was her close friend's son. His mother and yours just so happen to go to the same knitting class. Although his mother was of a higher class, your mother and his had a lot in common and hit it off right away. Your mother would have buried you six feet deep if you refused to see him, not that you would've. He's handsome, sweet and has a well-paying job. Of course, that's the side of him that he allows you to see.

He begged his mom to introduce you after he saw you sitting on your porch one day when he was picking his mother up from your house. You waved at him and smiled. His heart was about to pop out of his chest. Your beauty was nothing he'd ever even imagined before. Everything about you is perfect. Everything. He asked his mother about you as soon as he drove off. She was more than happy to tell him. She's quite fond of you and would choose you as a daughter-in-law over anyone else. She couldn't be happier that her beloved first son has shown interest in a jewel like you.

He couldn't help but fall even deeper in love when he got to meet with you. Your voice rings bells in his heart and your eyes speak to his soul. He knew from then on that you were made for each other. He would never admit it, but he's absolutely obsessed with you. He would prefer to say that he's in love with you. Dating was smooth. He quickly proposed as soon as an appropriate amount of time passed. It couldn't come soon enough to him. You're so sweet and understanding. So thoughtful and intelligent. You share interests and when you don't, you make the effort to try. So does he, of course. You're so perfect.

Once married, he was happy to go to work and come back to your loving embrace. He'd rather die than have you support yourself. Anything you want, anything you need is yours. You don't even have to ask, your husband is very observant. You might mention something in passing that he'll overhear. Something small, something you didn't even put a lot of focus into, but he'll remember. He'll remember and he'll get it for you as soon as possible. He'd do anything...and that means anything. If anyone made you cry, he'd comfort you...before beating them unconscious. Getting his hands dirty is a small price to pay for you. But dear god, if anyone dared to lay a finger on you... well...consider them gone. Consider them erased actually. Consider the fact that they won't be bothering anyone ever again. Consider people closely associated with them being severely injured.

He's a ray of sunshine. You love him and he loves you. He loves you very much. You've never had any serious arguments. The two of you got along so well that there weren't any disagreements, but there were, he'd just fold and let it go. The only problem is that now that you're married, he wants kids, but you're not ready. You've never been very good with kids. They make you anxious. The sticky fingers, their delicate little heads, the fact that they could become psychopaths if you don't raise them properly. Not to mention how expensive and time-consuming they are. You spend all that time and energy on them and get almost nothing in return. Don't even get you started on the effects it'll have on your body.

There's just too much that could go wrong and besides, you just font feel like you're mature enough to have a kid of your own when you still feel like one yourself. You're not ready to raise a human being. There's so much you want to do, want to explore and you can't do that with a baby. Your husband on the other hand is great with them. He's the eldest brother of six so he's used to taking care of kids. At birthday parties, you can find him carrying three kids at a time, one over his shoulders and two in his arms, even the older ones, which doesn't surprise you because he's built big and strong. Must've eaten his vegetables when he was a kid, you snicker, inwardly. Your husband pokes you every time he sees a cute video of a baby on his phone like a boy asking his parents for a puppy. "Just watch! Aren't they cute!? (Yyyy/nnnn)!" He sticks his phone in your face and makes you watch a bunch of videos. He has a severe case of baby fever.

You look over at your fiance. He's looking out at the swing set with a dreamy look on his face. A little boy is pushing his younger sister and they look like they're having a blast. You cringe, knowing your husband is gonna bring up the baby talk again when you get home. Just then, you feel a light tug on your dress and look over to see a little girl around the age of 4, wobbling on her feet, looking up at you. You at least try to be good with kids. "Hey, what are you doing?" You laugh nervously. You know you're in for it now. You can feel your husband's intense gaze on the back of your neck.

"...Mama said that if I'm good, I can have cake. I was good today, so can I have some,...please?" You look up to see a woman face palming and yelling at her daughter to come back and stop bothering the nice lady. You smile at her mother, letting her know it's okay. "Well you asked so very nicely, how can I say no?" You cut a small slice and plate it for her. You give her the plate, but she just looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. "I...I always let Mama feed me," she says as fiddles with her fingers nervously. So adorable. You look up at her mother, who seems to be busy dealing with one of her other kids and decide to give her a break. Although this is breaching your comfort zone, you just can't say no to that face.

You pick up a fork and begin feeding her. You just know your fiance has the most love-struck look on his face, if you were looking at him, you'd be able to see big hearts in his eyes. You peek over at him to see just that and roll your eyes. "Mm so yummy! Thank you miss!" She gets on her tippy toes and kisses you on the cheek. You must admit that was adorable, but your opinion remains firm. No kids. No way. You still have plenty more reasons not to have any so cuteness is not enough to sway you. The little girl waddles away back to her mom. You don't want to turn around. You sigh and look at your husband to see he is still swooning.

"Oh my god! That was beautiful. You be such a good mom!" He coos. You groan. "We talked about this so many times, honey. You know how I feel about kids," you pout, folding your arms. You could've sworn you saw his eyebrow twitch like he was upset. "You'd be great, I believe in you. I just know it," he beams. Oh, he's not mad. Must've been your imagination. You roll your eyes. He didn't listen to a word you said though. You love him so much, but he's a brick wall when it comes to things like this. He's been on your ass quite literally about kids ever since you got married. "I need more time," you say, looking away from his pouting face. He was a bit gloomy for the rest of your outing after that. Last night, you misplaced your birth control pack. You were worried about it, but you just brushed it off and decided to take two the next night when you do find them.

Soon, your picnic comes to an end and you head home. He's on you as soon as you shut the door, kissing you passionately. You return the gesture, hugging him close. "Don't take your birth control tonight," he whispers huskily in your ear. You stop and push his chest. He takes a step back and looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed. "We literally just talked about this! Respect that I don't want any dumb kids!" You shout. You expect him to apologize, to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness like he always does when he's in the wrong. Then he'd go and get you flowers, and cook for you, but this time, he looks down at you rage evident in his expression. He looks really pissed. You shrink in your spot. What?

"You're being ridiculous, (y/n)! It's time for you to grow up! You're old enough to be a responsible mother so stop acting like a child. I can support the both of you easily. You don't have to lift a fucking finger, just have my child already. I've been so fucking patient with you. My mother and yours have been asking us where their grandchild is. What the fuck do I tell them? I'm wondering too! I've been waiting for you to change your mind and be reasonable, but you're really getting on my nerves now," he grits his teeth as he finishes his sentence. Each sentence felt like a stab to your heart. He's never said such cruel words to you or even cruel words in general before. Your husband hasn't so much as insulted you. You never could've imagined your husband had this side to him.

He gripped your arm and began dragging you upstairs. "Hey! S-Stop! Stop it!" You cry, holding onto the stair rail. He looks back at you. That was the last fucking straw. You hear a loud clap and your head turned. Huh? Your cheek stings? Tears begin to well in your eyes as you hold your reddening cheek. He takes the time to pull you the rest of the way up and into the bedroom. He sets you on the bed and locks the door, taking his clothes off right there, his well-built figure casting a shadow over you. You begin sobbing in your place on the bed, covering your face with your hands. He walks over and gently hugs you, rubbing your back. You push at him, but he keeps you still pressed to his body. "Stop that," he whispers in your ear. His voice is commanding yet gentle, but you ignore him and continue fighting his hold. "That's it. I'm so tired of you acting like this. It's time you give me what I deserve, a family." He grips your dress and violently rips it off you, leaving you in your bra and panties. You've had sex before, but never like this. This is the first time your eyes held fear while looking at your husband.

He shoves you back onto the bed, climbing over you and trapping you beneath him, smiling. He traces a finger from your collar to the center of your bra, where it stills before ripping it off you. You know better than to scream so you whimper as he throws it to the side. He places a hand over your breast, squeezing it painfully. You grab his wrist, trying to pry it off. "You are gonna be a great mommy. Can't wait to watch these fill up with milk." His face takes on that dreamy look again. "Seeing you today in the park confirmed it. You're more than ready." You feel his cock rubbing your thigh. He yanks your panties down your legs, tossing them into the forgotten corner with his clothes and yours. With his other hand and rubs your pussy. You whine and struggle under him, but you know you're no match for him. He spreads your thighs open and lodges himself between them, his cock rubbing up and down your fold, taunting you. "I love you...so much," he says before slowly entering you. You are NOT having a fucking baby. You'll take your birth control and that'll be that. He smiles down at you, knowing what you're thinking and bucks his hips. He laughs like he knows something you don't, but the idea is completely lost on you.

He bottoms out, moaning as he does. He rubs the bulge in your stomach lovingly. "I want a big family, honey. Make me a daddy. Let me breed you," he says, rutting into you. Even though he's being so rough, it feels so damn good. He picks up your thighs and pressed them down beside your head, squishing your cervix with his cock. Your tongue rolls out your mouth as your eyes roll into the back of your skull. He kisses your neck and cheeks, giving you soft praise. "I knew you'd be good for me. Such a good little wife and soon to be mommy. You're gonna look so cute stuffed with our baby. God, I fucking love you," he chants as he rams into you again and again, your brain is far too clouded by the feeling of him spearing your guts to understand him.

You dig your nails into his back as continues bruising your poor cervix. You let out a choked whine. "It's ok, honey, you can cum. I'll allow it." As if on command, you do. He kisses your lips passionately, quickening his pace. Moans leave your mouth each time he pounds into you, the air and sound being forced from your lungs each time on impact.

His fists curled in the sheets, his eyes clenching. He slams his hips to yours, your body being forced farther before he grabs your hips and forces you back. He grunts as he cums deep inside you, your stomach filling to the brim with his seed. He sighs and kisses your cheek. You breathe heavily, waiting for him to get off, but he doesn't. He just starts going again like he didn't just fill your guts up.

"W-Whah?" You whine. "I need to make sure my seed takes, darling. We'll be doing this until I say we're done so don't complain now." You can tell by his tone that he's daring you to try something. You just clench your eyes and keep taking him. You're so bloated with cum. He's never been like this before, always stopping when you wanted to and treating you like porcelain. Now he's grabbing you and fucking into you like he's been holding back for years, which you now think he has. Your eyelids begin drooping after the sixth time he forced you to cum. You can't keep them open and he notices. "It's ok, take a nap. Warning, I'm not stopping. I guess I tired you out," he laughs.

You wake up to him hugging your back, spooning you. You look at your alarm clock. It's been hours and judging from the still-wet cum all over your thighs, he only stopped recently. You slowly and very carefully slip out of his hold and off the bed. You feel a soreness like never before in your stomach and almost fall to the floor. Oh god, your uterus. More cum slips out of you as you walk to your vanity. You open a couple of drawers where you think your birth control might be, but it's not there. Where could it be if not in your vanity!? You look around frantically, but you still can't find them! You begin looking everywhere. You check the bathroom cupboard, opening it slowly so it doesn't creak and wake up your crazy husband. It's not in there! You look down to see the crumpled package in the trash. You pick it up to see it empty. Every single slot, even the pink period pills. You begin tearing up as you see there are tiny white specs by the sink. No! He washed them away! How could he!? You clutch the sink as you stare at the empty package. You feel a presence creep up behind you. You look up in the mirror to see your husband right behind you, looking down at you with disdain.

"I knew you were going to take them after I told you not to so I got rid of them last night." He planned this!? "Let's go back to bed...Common," he says tiredly and grabs your arm, forcing you back into bed with him, your back to his chest. You feel his cock harden and you try to inch away, but he grabs your hips and rubs his cock up and down your folds before jamming it inside you until he bottoms out. You whimper with your hands over your mouth, knowing that if you annoyed him while he was tired, you'd get in real trouble. He lazily humps into you, rubbing your bulging tummy from behind you, his lips kissing your head. You pass out later from exhaustion.

You wake up to find him not in bed. You take the chance to get up and throw on a sweatshirt and sweats. You grab your wallet and sprint out of the room and down the stairs, ignoring the painful limp he gave you and the soreness in your poor tummy. Your wrist is caught mid-air..." Where the fuck do you think you're going, honey?" He asks, his sweet smile contrasting the bone-crushing grip he has your wrist in.

"O-Oh! Um...we...need-" He cuts you off in the middle of your lie, yanking your wrist and forcing you closer to him. "You were going to go kill our baby." You've never seen such darkness in his eyes. "Well, you can't. I won't allow it. The doors have new locks just for you, love. You're not going anywhere." He smiles down at you, that same handsome face you love, but now come to fear. You gulp as he leads you into the kitchen where he prepared a beautiful breakfast.

You soon accept what's to happen. Your husband is a loved man. Loved by all. His family, your family, his job, the community, everyone. Your husband is often described as charismatic, funny, helpful and friendly. If you told anyone of them what he's done to you, they'd call you a liar without hesitation or even better, take his side, agreeing that it's time you give him a child because it's your duty as his wife to do at least that for him. Be a little grateful for all he does. Providing for you and taking care of you. You'd rather keep your mouth shut. Nothing good can come of telling anyone. It only took a few days of brutal fucking till you woke up early in the morning feeling nauseous and ran to the bathroom, him hot on your tail, ready to hold your hair back as you emptied your stomach into the toilet. You sob as you hug your knees on the bathroom floor. He got on the floor with you, wiping your tears with his thumbs and holding your face. He smiles wide and hugs you tightly. "Yes! (Y/n)! I'm so proud of you! We're having a baby! I love you!"

Yandere husband with pregnant reader head cannons:

- You're allowed out of the house after a while of proving your obedience! Hooray! With the exception that he has to be there, of course. A man flirted with you a bit while you were shopping and your husband was within earshot. You still cringe when you remember the sound the man's nose made as your husband punched him. It took three security guards to get him off the guy.

- Your husband makes you eat so much! "Sit down and finish your food. You're eating for two, remember!? Or did you forget?"

- Paints the baby's room with non-toxic paint and will not let you help or hold anything. "No, it's too dangerous, (Y/n). Sit back down, I've got this, ok?"

- Spares no expense for you and the baby. Buys everything people recommend to him

- Watches youtube videos for things he needs to watch out for during your pregnancy

- Does pregnancy stretches with you and won't take no for an answer. "It's good for you and the baby so get to it! I'll do them with you so we look silly together!" You both still have a fun time.

- You once dropped a book on the floor and your husband burst through the wall to get to you, leaving a cartoon cutout of himself and all. "WHATHAPPENDAREYOUOK!?" He shouted all in one breath. You assured him that you were just fine and that you'd only dropped a book, but he still cradled you in his arms crying.

- Cooks all your meals and cuddles you every single night.

- You being pregnant does not mean he stops fucking you, no. He's just a lot more gentle with you.

- Has everything about your pregnancy and birth planned to the exact detail, even when you'll have the next one.

- He rubs his face against your tummy and kisses it, singing to the baby.

- Do you need to get up? "Here, take my arm...actually...I'll hold you!"

- He picks up the phone on the first ring...and you better too or he's racing home.

#non con #lemon #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere husband #dead dove do not eat

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youarewhatyoulove-blog · 1 month

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the violence of the dog days.

pairing: jeongguk x reader

summary: In the midst of summertime, after a week of neglect, your boyfriend has a way of making you feel even more heated.

you're hot and horny for jeongguk.

rating: mature🔞 (minors please dni)

genre: non-idol au, college au, established relationship, smut, fluff, pwp

word count: 9.2k words of unadulterated smut.

warnings: reader and jeongguk are absolute horny simps for each other, but they're also so inlove, soft boyfriend jeongguk (because yes that is a warning), jeongguk is a law student (oof), overuse of the petname 'baby', reader hasn't been getting it seven days a week😔, switch jeongguk (kinda), hair pulling, hickeys, making out, thigh riding, nipple play (jeongguk is proudly a boob guy), religious imagery because jeongguk worships reader like a god, usage of the words 'c*nt' and 'p*ssy' (because i know some people are iffy about that), cunnilingus (f-receiving), jeongguk is low-key a sadist y'all (in his fantasies), a bit of dom/sub dynamics, prayers for reader because jeongguk's got that big d🙏🏽, unprotected sex, doggy style, degradation, a teeny weeny bit of overstimulation, creampie - like this is just pure smut guys 😬, possessive sex, choking, aftercare, reader kinda hints at having attachment issues (but don't we all).

author's note: 1. please ignore any typos :). of course, i'd appreciate any feedback or constructive criticism. but if you find yourself uncomfortable by any of the themes in this fic, there's no need for hate, just kindly move on. 2. also, this is a lot longer and softer than i intended. this fic was supposed to be purely hard smut, but i fell in love with the characters and their relationship, and some aspects of the story just turned out sickeningly sweet - so proceed with caution.

You're an hour into tossing and turning when you can't take it anymore.

The heat.

With June coming to a close end, the surviving remnants of summer creep in through your bedroom window with barely a whisper of a breeze. It clings to every part of your skin, that ever-lingering humidity thickening the air, and wraps itself around your body like a cloak. For some reason, you thought that scrolling aimlessly through the various apps on your phone would help distract your mind from the muggy weather or maybe, by some miracle, even lull you to sleep.

But it hasn’t—of course it hasn't. Because summer is here to stay, burrowing deep within your bones and making a home there. Each passing minute is a testament to that, insomnia creeping up your spine with ill intent and wriggling into every cranny of your mind until you feel like you're losing it.

Perhaps you are, you think.

Because when the desk fan a few feet away suddenly stops whirring and the fumbling grasp you had on sleep slips from your reach like a fleeting dream in the morning light as a result of it—drifting further and further away—you hit your breaking point. The lack of white noise and cool air blowing your way mounts your frustration into place. It hangs there in the ether like a looming shadow but, unlike your slumber, has no plans of deserting you.

With an annoyed huff, you drop your phone back onto the nightstand for the umpteenth time and kick your leg out from under the duvet.

“Fuck.” You sigh, rolling onto your back.

A thin sheen of sweat lingers on the surface of your skin, causing the sheets to stick uncomfortably to every part of your body. You spread your limbs out like a starfish in some futile attempt to cool them down, hoping that you'll catch a draft, but the action only reminds you of how largely cavernous your bed feels right now.

The space beside you is missing a particular doe-eyed boy and, as your hand brushes over the empty spot, you realize that it's not so much the seasonal heat that's making you feel weirdly restless, but rather Jeongguk's absence. In an inconveniently clingy way, you need his body settled next to you at night, your legs and arms a tangled mess beneath the blankets.

You don't know why that is. Why sleep eludes you like a compass without direction, unable to find its way to you when Jeongguk isn't near. But you don't mull over it or give the thought a foothold to stand amongst the endless anxieties already in your head.

All you know is that cuddling up with him in the evening is perhaps one of your favourite pastimes. Akin to a baby with it's bottle, falling asleep in his embrace is something you've grown incredibly used to, maybe even a little dependent on—like a security blanket or night-light—and there's nothing you can do about it.

Sneaking a glance towards the dim light spilling in from beneath the bedroom door, you picture Jeongguk on the other side. Chances are, he’s still where you last left him. Sitting cross-legged on the couch with a laptop balancing carefully on his lap, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, as he catches up on coursework.

You worry your lip, the thought of your boyfriend causing your mind to wander...

He looked so good tonight; adorned in a pair of grey sweats and a baggy t-shirt with his tattoos fully exposed. His dark hair was strewn across his forehead, falling into his eyes in a way that made your fingers itch.

You, on the other hand, are sporting an old, oversized shirt you opted to steal from Jeongguk's wardrobe to combat the high temperatures, but it hasn't helped much. The heat still loiters, creeping up the back of your neck and imbuing your cheeks with warmth.

It makes you long for winter, for the bitter nip of frosty ice and pelting rain, and the desire for that inadvertently reminds you of that fucking silver lip ring Jeongguk had gotten recently.

The memory of its cold, metal sting against your lips as he kissed you goodnight sends a distant, carnal hum coursing throughout your veins. It's probably tugged anxiously between his teeth right now whilst he types away, eyes deadset on the screen before him, and the image of that sends you reeling. Makes your skin flush further, yearning to feel its steel bite again.

For some reason, it propels you into motion, skin prickling as you throw your legs over the edge of the mattress without a second thought.

The last thing you want to do is bother his progress or interrupt his work, but selfishly, you persist. That gnawing feeling deep within your chest is too hard to ignore, heart beating voraciously with each step you take because it longs to be satiated by Jeongguk's presence. Your boyfriend is only one room over, just four thin walls separating the two of you, yet still—you miss him, want him.

Treading lightly, you hear the persistent click-clack of his keyboard and the muffled sound of typing only grows louder as you step out into the hallway. The wooden flooring is frigid beneath your feet, a sensation you immediately relish in as soon as the fiery crawl of discomfort across your skin begins to lessen. Your shirt—or more precisely, Jeongguk’s shirt—falls flat from your waist, landing a few inches above your knees, as you wander further into the apartment.

Just as you’d predicted, Jeongguk is all pretzelled up on the sofa, too focused on his work to hear you enter. A few empty bottles of soju and convenience store snacks litter the coffee table, serving as silent witnesses to the length of time he's been out here. He must have dimmed the lights as well because a faint, warm glow shrouds every facet of the room, making him look particularly soft at this hour.

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around the length of his shoulders as you bend over the couch's headrest to envelop him in a hug. ”Hey,” You hum softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Jeongguk startles slightly at the contact, shaken from his deep concentration as he angles his head to look up at you. “Shit, baby. You scared me.” He breathes, voice rough from disuse. It rumbles through you like a distant thunderstorm, body vibrating with electricity.

“Sorry,” You murmur, glancing at the assignment he's been working on and tiny pangs of guilt gradually trickle into your stomach. “I didn't mean to disturb you, but-”

“You're not disturbing me.” Jeongguk instantly reassures, scanning your face with a knowing look. “Can’t sleep?” He asks and you nod, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The scent of his body wash immediately encompasses you like a warm embrace, wild pinewood and bergamot invading your senses.

“I thought you’d be in bed by now.” You mumble against his skin, unable to hide the pout in your voice.

Jeongguk frowns, eyes flickering to the time at the bottom of his laptop screen.

Shit, he hadn’t even noticed how late it’s gotten, the hours skulking along the cusp of a new day. He should probably be turning in for the night, head to bed and worry about this project tomorrow, but he’d rather not postpone his responsibilities. Not when you’re staying over the weekend and he could be spending that time with you instead.

“I know.” Jeongguk responds, hand coming up to intertwine with yours. “I’ll be there soon, okay?” He promises, bringing your knuckles to his lips. The featherlight kiss he presses there soothes you like a curative balm.

“Okay,” You relent, untangling yourself from his body. “But, can I stay here for a bit? It’s too hot in there.” You half lie, gesturing towards the bedroom while simultaneously walking over to the kitchen only a few feet away.

“Yeah, of course.” He murmurs, eyes following your movements.

“Thanks, Kook.” You smile, sparing him a glance over your shoulder as your eyes sparkle with mirth. “By the way, your fan broke down again.”

“Again?” He laments, eyebrows furrowed together whilst he runs a disgruntled hand through his hair. “I seriously need to get that old thing repaired or maybe even replaced.” He grumbles to himself, before a guilty afterthought occurs at the sight of you. “Fuck, I'm so sorry, baby. No wonder you couldn't sleep.”

You don't tell him that it's not so much the heat keeping you awake but, more so, him.

“No, don't worry about it.” You settle on instead, trying to dispel his concerns. “It's not your fault.”

This isn't the first time that Jeongguk’s fan has given him problems. He's had the thing since high school; so it’s no surprise that the motor tends to give in every now and then, running a little too hot. He’s been meaning to get the issue sorted, but hasn’t really found the time to do that these days.

“Plus, I'd much rather be out here with you.” You add.

Jeongguk smiles at you so sweetly then, dimples making an appearance, and your body flushes all over, burning once again.

God, what is wrong with you tonight?

You need to calm down, cool down. At this rate, you feel like an overheating engine, bound to crash in on yourself and combust.

Grabbing a glass of ice water from the fridge dispenser, you rein yourself in, distracting your mind with conversation. “I promise not to be a bother though, like you won't even notice I'm here.” You say, before chugging the cold liquid down on the spot, completely ignorant to the way that Jeongguk drinks you in.

A welcome sight is what you are, so cute tonight with your hair all mussed, practically drowning in his shirt. “You’re never a bother.” He responds, mouth going dry when you lean back to empty the glass. The action causes your shirt to hike up, the creamy expanse of your thighs further exposed to his hungry eyes.

He feels his dick stir at the sight.

“How much longer do you think you’ll be?” You ask, wiping your lips with the back of your palm, as you place your cup in the sink and shuffle over towards your boyfriend.

“Uhh…” Jeongguk clears his throat, broken out of his stupor. He turns back to face his laptop, skimming the Word document that's open before him when he feels you nestle into his side a second later. Automatically, he brings a hand down to rest against your leg.

“I’m not sure,” He grumbles, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your bare thigh. The absent-minded touch ignites something in you, skin blazing at the contact, and you try your best to suppress the goosebumps that rise in Jeongguk’s wake. “Maybe another hour or so?” He guesses.

“Oh.” You mumble and, although you fight the disappointed curl of your lips, Jeongguk doesn’t miss the deflated look on your face.

“I’m sorry,” He squeezes your thigh apologetically, frown overtaking his pretty features. “I know it’s been a while since we spent time together.”

A week exactly, you note, but ultimately keep that detail to yourself. After all, neither one of you is to blame for being so busy, constantly caught between work and university.

You think that's maybe the reason you're feeling so needy tonight, body set ablaze by every minor look and touch from your boyfriend. In a way, you're feeling a little neglected since your relationship’s taken the backseat, not by choice but by consequence, and you don’t know how to deal with it.

“It's fine.” You shrug. "It's not like we can help it.”

You try to be nonchalant about the matter, injecting the slightest hint of indifference into your tone, but Jeongguk sees right through you.

He always does.

“Come here.” He says suddenly, voice soft as he shifts his laptop onto the coffee table.

You look up at him, confusion clear on your face.

“What?” You blink, but your question falls on deaf ears because Jeongguk merely uncrosses his legs and pats his lap.

“Come here,” He then repeats and reaches for your waist.

You're uncertain for the briefest of moments, eyeing Jeongguk suspiciously, before you ultimately give in like malleable clay in his soft hands, allowing him to pull you onto his lap with ease. “I've been working for hours.” He grumps once you're comfortably straddling his waist, hands resting on either side of your hips. “Hardly seen you since you got here.”

You hum, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in thought. It's no secret that you've been spending a lot more time at Jeongguk's place in lieu of your ratty little dorm room. You felt bad about it at first, feeling as though you were invading his space and overstaying your welcome. But your boyfriend couldn't be happier about it. He rather likes the idea of your lives interlocking, melding together as if they were puzzle pieces falling into place. He likes that when he's working, like on nights like this, that you're just on the opposite side of the door, not one phone call or car ride away.

He likes that you're his and he is, equally as much, yours.

“I wanted to leave you to your work.” You explain, curling your arms around his neck. Your fingers absentmindedly play with the ends of his hair that have grown out and the light touch only brings about the memory of how much he has missed you these past few days.

“Well, it's about time I take a break, don't you think?” Jeongguk muses and you become hyper-aware of the way his fingers brush up your spine. “Give my girl some attention…” He trails on, eyes flickering to your lips.

You practically preen at the idea, smiling shyly as you lean into his touch. “I wouldn't object to that.” Your heart patters in your chest, beating wildly at the mere sight of Jeongguk. At the thought of him finally touching you, kissing you, quenching your thirst after this week-long drought. “I've missed you.”

Jeongguk chuckles faintly. “Me too, baby.” He murmurs, perching his head upwards to press his lips against yours.

The kiss is gentle, chaste, his plush lips feeling so featherlight against yours. You almost imagine they were never there to begin with because Jeongguk pulls away before you can truly savour the taste of them.

“You know, you look so pretty in my clothes.” He begins, large hand spreading lazily around your left hip and up your back. “Kinda makes me want to wreck you.”

“You already wreck me.” You breathe without missing a beat.

“Yeah?” Jeongguk rasps, his voice low and a little dark. It sends a thrill straight up your spine.

You nod in response, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “No one makes me feel the way you do.” You admit, eyes flitting across his face. It's an unwavering truth—one that simultaneously scares and excites you in this quiet dead of night.

“Can I kiss you again?” The words come out as a breathy whisper; as if you've been holding on to them for too long, as if they're the oxygen you so desperately need to breathe, and Jeongguk tilts his head, bewildered frown on his face.

“How is that even a question.” He gripes, slanting his head in a means to meet your mouth halfway, but you have another idea.

You press into him instead, leaning forward, and set out to peck lovingly along the curvature of Jeongguk’s jawline. He huffs in amusement, endeared by the way you take control. Because, although he’s usually the dominant one in the bedroom, he doesn't mind when you take charge like this. In fact, he's grown to love it. Loves the way you come into your own, toying and teasing with him, until your own actions cause you to grow desperate.

It's one of his greater weaknesses, his Achilles heel, and right now, you want nothing more than to expose it. Unveil a certain side of him. The one that'll see how far you can push before he starts to push back. The one that'll give in and take you right here on this couch after he's entertained your antics for long enough and you finally beg him to fuck you.

Your body practically hums at the thought.

You map out his skin, lips brushing against the surface like you're exploring a new land. Every movement careful, every touch claiming what's yours. And it almost goes to your head—how quickly Jeongguk submits to your mouth’s assault, his body relaxing into the couch like he's letting you have your way with him.

Jeongguk doesn't tell you that he is. That your lips are a holy grail he'd happily yield to.

When your teeth graze lightly at a particular soft spot below his ear, he lets out a small groan, eyes falling closed at the sensation. You feel the sound roll through you, the ache between your legs becoming hard to ignore when you think about the fact that you've roused that melody from his mouth.

It spurs you on, makes you want to hear it again and again. You want to paint the entire column of his neck red and then watch your confession of love fade to a bruised purple in the weeks to come. You want to rediscover all the ways that you can make Jeongguk sing, and the way your body dances to his tune in turn. Your lips lap him up, kisses becoming indelicate with desperation, teeth nipping with intent along his upper jaw, tongue tracing over the skin before you repeat all these gestures twicefold.

You can feel yourself growing wet, relish in the way that Jeongguk's hands tighten around your form. “Shit,” He mumbles and your body crows. Without pause, you shift against his lap and move to the neglected side of his neck, targeting the skin there. You can feel him getting hard beneath you, your core situated right above his growing erection, and it causes a shiver to run down your spine.

You plant a few messy kisses against his throat, nibbling vehemently, but then Jeongguk tuts and pries his eyes open before you have the opportunity to really sink your teeth into him.

“Baby,” He warns, curling a hand into your hair to form a makeshift ponytail. “No marks. I've got a presentation on Monday.” He says and pulls you back by an inch. His movements are somewhat hesitant, voice rough, like he's not entirely sure he truly wants you to stop.

But he has to. He can't afford to show up to class on Monday and present the most important project of his life with hickeys all over his neck.

“Next time.” He promises, but you consider outright ignoring him for a second, even though it's nonsensical, like some twisted form of punishment for a week of neglect.

But it’s Jeongguk—Jeongguk who’s been extra stressed lately about completing his degree. Jeongguk who’s carving time out of working on his big assignment right now—one which, not only counts forty percent of his grade, but could also earn him an internship at one of the top law firms in Seoul if he's lucky enough—all to pay special attention to you.

So, “Fine.” You give in, albeit a little petulantly, and brace your hands against his chest, face feeling flushed. “I’m sorry. I just wanna be close to you is all.”

“I know. Me too.” He rasps, grip on your hair loosening a touch, but not completely. “We don't have to stop though, just don't mark me up.” He explains, free hand rubbing up and down your thigh.

“Okay,” You slide your palms up his chest, feeling the toned muscles tense beneath your touch. “I really love you, you know?”

Jeongguk's eyes soften, a hint of a smile creeping up on his face. “I know,” He hums, tugging at your hair in a way that makes your scalp tingle. “But I don't think it comes close to how much I love you.” He rasps, using his grip as leverage to pull your head backwards until the delicate skin of your throat is exposed. “It's incomparable.” He murmurs, placing a single kiss on the side of your mouth before he travels south, lips peppering across your jawline.

You shiver, hands twisting into the thick material of Jeongguk's t-shirt. You want to tell him that it's not a competition, that you'd love him until the sun stops rising and, even if this one week of distance had been more, you know that he feels the same.

But the heavy palpitations in your chest causes the words to dissolve on your tongue because Jeongguk pulls the collar of your shirt to the side a second later, exposing more of your skin, before he traces a path along your décolletage. He's touching you like a starved man, mouth just as desperate and feverish as you’re starting to feel.

A stuttered gasp escapes your lips, your hands moving upwards, unsure of where to be, when he nips at a particularly sensitive spot. You settle them on his shoulders.

“Jeongguk,” You moan, the tingling between your legs maturing into an unbearable ache.

“I know, baby.” He abruptly pulls away from your clavicle—lips red, eyes blown. “Tell me what you want.”

His demand goes over your head because you don't know what you want; can barely think straight with the lingering feeling of Jeongguk's lips on your neck. With the growing wetness sticking uncomfortably to your panties. With the burning, hot embers laying at the base of your stomach, begging to be set ablaze. And Jeongguk knows that. Knows that you're neither here nor there, only somewhere in the middle, teetering on the line of endless choices. So he lets go of your hair then, manoeuvres your body until you're straddling only his left thigh.

“Don't think about it, baby.” He murmurs, both hands moving to your hips. He guides them back and forth, slow and gentle, with just enough pressure to relieve that desperate throbbing in your pussy. “Just feel.”

And you do, sinking into your own little bubble, a paradise as impenetrable as the gates of heaven. You take your time to grind up against him, moving in tandem with the flow of his hands and a soft whimper climbs up your throat at the sensation of your clit brushing against the firm muscles of Jeongguk’s thigh. You're already so soaked, underwear absolutely sodden from the relentless pendular motions of your pelvis, and when you look down to find a dark, damp spot beginning to stain Jeongguk's sweatpants, you can't help but intensify your movements.

It should be embarrassing, how quickly you've become turned on, how much you're dripping, when Jeongguk's barely touched you, but instead you just feel liberated. Pure power coursing through your veins because your boyfriend has given you the reins, is letting you use his body like a bitch in heat, and it's exhilarating; intoxicating every facet of your mind.

“That's it,” Jeongguk purrs, deserting your hips once you gain momentum to instead sneak both hands up the hem of your shirt.

Your breath escapes its chambers when he trails past the soft curve of your waist and straight to your breasts. “Fuck, you're so beautiful.” He grunts, gaze intent on your every reaction, like he's watching artwork unfold. His nimble fingers circle your nipples, tracing them with the most tantalizing pattern, until they begin to harden.

“Please,” You choke, clasping his shirt in between your fists like it's some sort of lifeline. You're not even sure what you're begging for, pace quickening as you ride Jeongguk’s thigh more aggressively. Every rut forward sends sparks shooting throughout your body, nerve endings alight, and when Jeongguk pinches your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, your back arches in pleasure. A throaty moan penetrates the room otherwise filled with nothing but your uneven pants and the sound of Jeongguk's voice.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” He groans, hands inching towards your shirt’s lower seam. He drags it over your torso, itching for better access to your breasts. Even in your muddled state, you meet him halfway, raising your arms above your head until the damned thing is off and you're left in nothing but your lacy underwear.

You hardly have time to adjust to the humid air hitting your torso, when Jeongguk tips his head forward, enveloping your right nipple into his mouth with reckless abandon. The response is instantaneous, a strangled sob slipping past your lips at the feeling of his warm mouth encased around your stiffened peak. His tongue swipes across your nipple, shockwaves manifesting at the blissful contact, and you don't know how much longer you're going to last—an embarrassing feat you don’t ponder on too much.

Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the attention Jeongguk pays you. Whimpering when the pads of his fingers move to fondle the nipple of your forsaken breast while the other submits to his mouth’s pleasurable torment, each purposeful pinch causing them to tighten all the more. Your skin feels like it's on fire, the warmth of Jeongguk's touch igniting the cinders glowing from deep within your belly. “I-I think,” You swallow, your pussy rubbing deliciously into Jeongguk's leg. “I think I'm going to come soon,” You manage to admit through a repressed whine, voice so strained it sounds foreign even to your own ears.

You don't think you've ever hit an orgasm this quickly. You've never had to. Because you and Jeongguk are like inseparable magnets; every atom in your bodies drawn to each other, always connecting like two poles seeking the other out—never going more than a few days without some form of intimacy. Never mind a week.

At least, not until now.

So when Jeongguk bounces his leg upwards to meet the force of your pussy coming down on his quadricep, adding to the way you slam into him, your clit positively throbbing at the impact, you feel the onset of that familiar coil in your stomach tightening.

“Just let go, baby.” Jeongguk rasps, granting you permission with one final flick of your nipples and then you're coming undone, white fiery heat flooding every fiber of your body, as you cry out his name. Only his name, forever on your lips. You feel the way your entire form convulses, the way Jeongguk helps you through it, flexing his thigh so that you can get the most out of your orgasm, and your hips buck forward—unrelenting and greedy—before they finally ease into a slow rut. Grinding into him until the receding, minuscule waves of pleasure begin to fade.

With the last few clenches of your pulsating core, you slowly catch your breath, muscles slackening as you become pliant in Jeongguk's arms, the weight of your body suddenly too much for you to bear. Your boyfriend holds you tight though, both hands moving to your waist to keep you secure.

Behind the darkness of your closed eyelids; you hear Jeongguk softly murmur your name and feel the way his hand comes up to your face, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear before he cups your cheeks. “You okay, angel?” He asks, voice emerging as a hushed tone.

When you manage to tear your eyes open and give him a soft, affirmative nod, Jeongguk seems satisfied, pressing a delicate kiss to your sternum before he shifts you from his lap and onto your back in one fell, but gentle swoop.

Your head hits the soft leather of the sofa with the aftermath of your climax still lingering against your skin like crackling electricity, fuzzing up your mind. “You think you can take more?” He asks, eyes flitting across your face to get a read on your current state of mind.

You nod your head assuredly, reaching out to make a grab for his body, to bring him closer. “Yeah I can,” You say confidently, arm's snaking up his back to explore the taut muscles that reside there.

Jeongguk is hovering over your body, thigh pressed hotly between your legs, and even though you can feel the rush of arousal, brought on only a second ago, pooling uncomfortably in your underwear—you want more. You want him. “I want to carry on.”

Jeongguk studies your demeanour, casting your body and expression a careful once-over, because he wants to feel you, be in you, wants to make you see stars. But it's only a matter of whether you're able to handle that right now. He has barely had his way with you, but you already look so fucked out, so perfect for him. It makes the blood rush straight to his dick. “You make me crazy.” He rasps, eyes locking with yours as he brings a hand up, tracing his thumb along your bottom lip.

You almost cower beneath his touch, beneath the sincerity of his gaze; appraising the very depths of your being as if you were a delicate treasure, as if he were staring at a god or something of a divine beauty.

Jeongguk thinks that maybe he is; thinks you’re the light, the one thing he’d worship morning, noon and night through blind faith. And there are barely enough words in the dictionary for him to express this notion to you, so instead he settles for “I love you.” Voice as rough as the high tides, but softer than moonlight.

He feels compelled to tell you this every chance he gets, a hopeless slave to his feelings for you. “Like I've never loved anything else in my life.” He continues. It's a quiet confession in the night, not a new one, but the words mean just as much as the first time he admitted them to you.

You feel yourself melt, can't remember ever feeling this cherished. Not since before Jeongguk and hopefully, never after. “I love you too.” You murmur, taking a moment to drink in every detail of the man who has left you restless all night.

Your eyes flicker over the defined cut of his jaw. The delicate curve of his lips and the pretty mole resting just beneath it. The small kissable scar on his cheek. The feathery flutter of his eyelashes. The strands of hair that have fallen over his face, and you retract your hand from his back to push them away.

How did you ever get this lucky?

“So much.” You emphasize and your voice thickens with the weight of your words, spoken from the very depths of your soul. “More than you could ever know.” Because there aren't enough words in the dictionary to get this notion across, so instead you lift your head, planting a firm kiss to Jeongguk’s lips as if sealing a vow, a promise of forever.

Jeongguk receives your kiss like he does with everything else related to you; openly, hungrily. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip—once—twice—and you instantly become pliant under his weight. Your fingers find his hair, tangling into the dark tresses as you deepen the kiss. It’s hot and it’s heavy, and in the distant part of your mind, you register that Jeongguk tastes like peaches, most likely from the alcohol he’s been drinking.

The sweetness of his lips immediately goes to your head; drunk and euphoric, and all grace flies out the window the next second. “Touch me,” You murmur breathlessly against his mouth, fingertips skimming over the nape of his neck. “Please, I need you.”

Jeongguk groans, a husky sound resonating from deep within his throat. “Fuck,” You can feel how rock hard he’s gotten, his erection pressing into your inner thigh and it's making you delirious with need. “I’ll give you anything you want.” Jeongguk rumbles, his mouth forming a wet, messy trek away from yours to embrace the flesh of your breasts.

You want to tell him that it's him, only him you want. Puppeteering your every move, body relinquishing itself to his touch. But you don't. You can't, not when Jeongguk's teeth leave scarlet marks across your chest that render you mute, words evaporating on your tongue like sacramental bread.

“My pretty baby,” He coos tenderly and you fight the urge to rut up against him. “Always so fucking ready for me.“ He praises, kisses traveling southward and it burns, searing, everywhere that Jeongguk touches you. You think you might erupt or shatter, and nothing less, if he doesn't meet you where you really need him to, your cunt begging to be satiated with his fingers, or his tongue, or his dick—anything.

A whimper escapes your lips, an embarrassing, desperate sound hanging in the thick air, as you glance down past your heaving breasts. You watch as Jeongguk abandons your boobs, planting a trail of kisses across the expanse of your stomach, your hip bones—takes the tiny little ribbon on your underwear between his teeth and tugs. The deliberate gesture causes your panty to rise up a bit, ever so slightly brushing against your clit in the process, and you bite down on your bottom lip, holding back an ungodly moan.

You can't take it anymore, all this teasing.

Jeongguk can read it on your face; sees it in the way you swiftly tilt your head back, eyes closed, brows scrunched together. He knows you like the back of his hand, which is how he gauges that you've fallen back into a place of submission—done with the tortuous foreplay, done with calling the shots, done with delaying the inevitable. You want him to fuck you, to use your body the same way you had used his mere minutes ago. And if his dick could get any harder at the thought, it would.

Jeongguk licks his lips, slips a finger into the curve of your waistband as he murmurs, “I’m gonna take this off now, okay?”

You nod your head, not daring to open your eyes to confront the image of Jeongguk's face a mere hair's breadth away from your cunt. It's too erotic. Too much. You feel him drag the thin garment down your legs, a string of arousal following suit, and suddenly feel self-conscious, attempting to close your legs to hide how shamefully wet you are.

But Jeongguk's not having any of that.

He carelessly chucks the lacy material to the side like it’s nothing but a rag, a nuisance, and then grips your inner thigh. “Don't you dare,” He grunts, using his grasp to keep your legs apart, lifting them upwards until your knees are bent to your chest and your ankles are resting over his shoulders, giving him the perfect view of your dripping cunt.

You barely have time to register the ticklish feeling of Jeongguk's breath fanning against your core before he dives straight in, licking a long stripe across your pussy, and your hips instinctively buck up. “Shit,” You mewl, rejoicing in the way his tongue traverses from your slit to your clit, lapping up every drop of arousal.

Jeongguk groans, a sound so low, stemming from the heart of his diaphragm, when he samples that first morsel of your leaking nectar. You taste like heaven, so sweet and unbearably wet, and all just for him.

“So fucking good,” He grumbles, mouth drinking you in. His tongue is unrelenting in its efforts to devour your pussy, and the overwhelming sensation of him slurping and sucking—of him eating you out like a connoisseur tasting the rarest of delicacies—causes frenzied pools of pleasure to ripple within the base of your belly.

He keeps at it, nose brushing against your clit as a byproduct, and after a few minutes the pure, unwavering rapture of Jeongguk's tongue becomes excruciating. A feeling so good, it’s almost too much. “Jeongguk,” You wail, heels digging into the couch as you try to back away from his mouth, but your boyfriend merely hooks his arms around your legs and pulls you closer. Holding you in place; unable to run or escape from the ruthless onslaught of his tongue, from the metal bite of his piercing brushing against your lower lips. “I can't,” You cry, writhing beneath his touch.

With his grip keeping you firmly anchored, Jeongguk brings one hand down to toy with your swollen clit, fingers moving in languid, clockwise motions. “You can,” He grunts thickly, tongue slipping between your folds and prodding deliciously at your hole. “I know you can, baby.” He mumbles in between fucking your drenched pussy with his fleshy muscle.

You shake your head frantically, eyes screwed shut, as you feel the waves of your second orgasm surfacing. “Not like this,” You beg, using your hands to reach down, fingers twisting into his fluffy hair as you desperately try to push him away. “Please, I want you in me.” A sob runs free, your walls pulsating around nothing because Jeongguk is taking his time with you, teasing your opening like he's got all night. But you don't. You're close, so fucking close, you can feel it in the tightening muscles of your pelvis, in the quivering of your legs.

But Jeongguk isn't giving you enough. He isn't giving you what you need. Your boyfriend, in all his hot glory, is taking you there with his tongue, swirling insufferably along your orifice—bringing you right up to the edge of the plank with an ocean of pleasure waiting just below your feet, but then he pulls you back. Drags you from the precipice before you can allow yourself to fall in, and it causes a frustrated whine to escape your lips. You need his cock deep inside, filling you up, pushing you off the ledge and into troubled waters. Your pussy throbs at the very thought. “Please Kook,” You find yourself beseeching for the second time. “I wanna cum with you in me.”

And any thread of composure Jeongguk has been holding on to up until that point, snaps at the pure neediness burrowed within your tone.

He looks up at you; lips glistening, eyes dilated—a mess of a man. But you don't look any better—or, if you were getting a glimpse of yourself through Jeongguk's point of view, never better—skin flushed, gleaming with a fine film of sweat, lips swollen from the way you've been biting them, and all at once, Jeongguk is overcome with the desire to give you everything you've ever wanted.

“Fuck, okay,” He curses, rising to his knees and you force your eyes open at the rough edge tainting his voice, at the overwhelming relief of getting what you wished for. “But it’s going to be a bit of a stretch, baby.” He says, not having prepped you fully. It's been a while since the two of you have had sex and, if he had it his way, he would have given you his fingers first, would have warmed and widened your lubricated walls, to ease the initial discomfort of him entering you.

But you look so pretty beneath him, so impatient, and—“I can handle it,” You mollify, voice a sweet concoction of sultry persuasion.

He nods in response, a curt motion, because if he thinks about how eager you're being, about how you're willing to take a little bit of the pain for the insurmountable pleasure, he might just come right there. Might just think of all the other ways you like to hurt; of the way you'd react if his palm made rough contact with your ass cheeks, or what would happen if he handcuffed you to his bedpost and stuffed you full with a vibrator and butt plug—if he fucked you tonight with no end in sight. He wonders if you'd cry, if you'd beg him for more or want him to stop, sopping and spent. More than that, he wants so badly to find out.

Jeongguk’s dark eyes find yours, their typical doe-eyed demeanour having turned hooded a long time ago. Yours are twinkling with anticipation, watching intently as he pulls his sweatpants down, letting them hang low beneath his buttocks. His cock immediately springs free, slapping against his stomach, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip at the sight.

“Come here,” Jeongguk's voice carries a jagged intonation, raw and untamed, and breaks through you like crashing waves. But when he makes a grab for your body, his hands are nothing but gentle, hoisting you up onto your knees and positioning you on all fours.

With your ass bared before him, face pressed into the cold faux leather of the couch, Jeongguk smooths a hand down your back, watches with satisfaction as your spine yields before his touch, and then he takes a hold of his dick. Doesn't even bother giving it a few preliminary pumps because he's already painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip as he lines himself with your hole.

He doesn't put it in though.

First, he teases your little cunt with only the head of his length, not fully embedding himself within your warmth just yet. You whimper pathetically at the testing prod, fingers balling into frustrated fists, while Jeongguk watches in awe as your entrance narrows, pleading to be stuffed.

“God, look at you.” Jeongguk groans, eyes traveling from your glistening pussy to the state of your overall servile form.

He places one hand on your hip, fingers digging into the skin there, as he inches just the slightest bit forward, his dick slowly pushing into you. Your mouth parts at the sensation and you shakily prop yourself up onto your elbows, head falling forward with a moan. “So fucking needy, huh.” He goads when you attempt to meet him in the middle, subtly backing up against his pelvis.

“No,” You shake your head as if it's some sort of lie, as if you haven't been thinking about this moment since you stepped over the doorsill of Jeongguk’s apartment earlier. And your boyfriend laughs—he actually laughs—a maniacal, derisive sound that rings in your ears.

“There's no need to deny it, baby.” He drawls like smooth liquor hitting the back of your throat, a silky succour that, for some reason, has you dumbly nodding along. Because Jeongguk’s entering you more now, his dick fighting against the tight restraint of your heat, and you're too distracted by the feeling of it to fully comprehend what he's saying.

“I mean,” He continues, reaching down between your legs to gather the wetness clinging to your folds before he bends over your back, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You’d think you've never been fucked a day in your life.” He murmurs, bringing his slick fingers to your level of sight.

You flush instantly, burning at the way your arousal dwells on Jeongguk's digits and forms a translucent web when he parts them into a V shape. “I can't help it,” You breathe shamefully, about to protest that it's his fault for letting you go so long without attention, for not taking care of your sexual needs and making you this susceptible to moments of depravity, when Jeongguk fully entrenches himself into your heat without so much as a warning.

“Aah,” Your jaw slackens at the sudden stretch of his length against your walls, the sensation so unfairly delicious you find yourself clenching around the intrusion with gasp, and your boyfriend uses the opportunity to stuff his letch-laiden fingers into your mouth.

“Clean them.” He grunts, lazily rocking forward and you choke back a moan, mouth instantly closing around his fingers. Head full of clouds, pussy filled to the brim, you obey. Your tongue licks up the juices stuck to his slim digits, gliding sensually across each one with care, and you vaguely hear Jeongguk curse below his breath, hips grinding into your core. “Fuck, just like that, angel.” He praises, allowing you to suck them clean for a few more seconds before he pulls them from your lips altogether with a lewd pop.

“Such a good girl,” He murmurs lovingly, pressing a singular kiss to your shoulder blade before he straightens to his full height behind you. “Always so perfect for me.”

Jeongguk's hands find your ass again and he gives the supple flesh a few gentle squeezes, savouring the way you whine in response.

“Please,” Your words come out embarrassingly broken and wretched, heart hammering in your chest with want, as you peek at Jeongguk over your shoulder. “Please, no more teasing. Just fuck me.”

“What do you think I'm doing?” Jeongguk asks, eyebrow raised, voice harbouring a hue of cockiness. He withdraws his thick length from your warm embrace at an agonizingly slow rate before thrusting right back in, repeating the motion steadily. “I'm fucking you right now, aren't I?”

You want to cry, your need to come so severe, it's starting to physically hurt.

Your fingers leave deep indents in the couch as you tackle the burning coals of frustration setting every inch of your body on fire. “M-More,” You stammer, feeling a pearl of arousal trickle down your thigh. You're so turned on right now, your mind an empty haze as Jeongguk edges you into oblivion, cunt so wet, you can barely feel the brush of his shaft against your walls anymore. “I need more.”

Jeongguk grins, feels the crown of his cock brush against a particular soft spot, and then decides to give you what you want. Because he loves it when you beg, when you become a blubbering mess beneath him, so cock-hungry, you forget yourself.

Without a moment's pause, Jeongguk pounds into you with unbridled vigour. His hips slap against your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room, and your body jerks forward at the impact. Your core is so drenched he's able to enter you with little resistance now. Emitting a rough, throaty groan, he fixates on how your creamy arousal coats his cock, disappearing in and out of your cunt.

“F-Fuck,” You hiss, your hand reaching back to firmly grip Jeongguk’s wrist for support, but he takes advantage of your extended arm and yanks you up until your back is pressed to his chest.

The new position gives him better access to your front and Jeongguk ghosts a hand around your waist without a second thought, smooths it down your stomach until he reaches your clit. Your body jolts the instant his fingers make contact with the swollen bud, legs quivering with the strength it's taking you to stay upright.

Your boyfriend notices your struggle and hooks his other arm around your waist, his fingertips holding you so tightly you won't be surprised if some bruises appear there tomorrow.

“Fuck, I've missed this.” He rasps, more to himself than you, whilst drilling against your g-spot. But the words affect you just the same as your pussy tightens in response, squeezing him into a death grip, and Jeongguk's hips stutter. “Jesus,” He groans, making a mental effort to stave off his own orgasm, trying to focus solely on you.

You really are going to be the death of him.

He breathes heavily through his nostrils before starting up again, slowly driving into you and his cock burrows so deep, you swear you can feel it in your uterus.

His fingers skim over your clit, tracing the nub ever so slightly because you're starting to flinch from his touch, starting to grow sensitive. And when your head falls back against his shoulder, a choked whine forcing its way out your throat, Jeongguk knows that you're close.

“You gonna come for me?” Jeongguk's lips brush against your temple, his hand deserting your pussy in sympathy to knead your breasts instead. You feel his thumb run over your nipple, static lightning steamrolling across your skin with each sweep.

“I-ah!” You can barely form a coherent sentence, the inklings of even one lucid thought slipping from your empty, fucked out mind as Jeongguk slams into you. He's setting a brutal pace, the noise of skin-against-skin undeniably obscene, but you can hardly find the will to care when the muscles in your abdomen begin to tense. They twist up like a clockwork toy, winding and winding, until Jeongguk hits a particular spot that makes your toes curl, and then you're coming undone for the second time tonight, knees buckling with the sheer force of your orgasm.

It hits you like a freight train, your body spasming. White dots of euphoria blur your vision, the pleasure so blinding, and Jeongguk's hold around your midsection is the only reason you don't collapse right there onto the couch.

“That's it, baby.” He reveres, hips never ceasing their movements even as your walls contract sporadically, determined to fuck you through it. An uncannily pornstar moan spills from your lips, mind and body having finally plunged into the silvery, stormy torrents of your climax, and the strangled sound causes something impossibly primal to rupture within Jeongguk. It thrashes at his chest like a wild caged animal, demanding release, and he recognizes the feeling all too well.

“You're mine, right? ” He finds himself grunting, voice husky with strain. The hand that was attending to your boobs instinctively ascends to your throat, squeezing slightly as he chases his own high, gives in to that grueling streak of possessiveness that only every rears its head when he has you like this—naked and vulnerable—and you groan at the familiar pressure.

You hum, walls clenching around him. “Only yours.” Your own hand reaches up, cuffing around his wrist for support as a tremor runs down your spine.

Jeongguk feels his balls tighten, the knowledge that he’s the sole witness to this side of you, so subservient and docile, sets him off the deep end.

Then you angle your head to the side, joining your lips with his. It's a messy, sloppy kiss, but the intimacy of it all causes Jeongguk's last bit of composure to crack.

He spills into you with a groan, the sound muffled by your mouth, as he rocks forward until every last drop of his seed is snug within your warmth.

The feeling of his cum bursting inside of you, length twitching, causes your pussy to flutter by reflex, milking Jeongguk of every ounce of cum, only suspending their contractions once he's thoroughly depleted.

By the end, you're both a heaving mess; chests rising and falling in unison as you come down, the electric current pulsing through your bodies fading into a comfortable hum.

Your skin is still buzzing, head befuddled, when Jeongguk presses a few lazy kisses across your shoulder—as if to ground you, to bring you back from the constellations he's painted behind your eyes.

“You were so good, baby.” He commends, smoothing the hair at the side of your profile and you can't help the soft, but dopey smile that breaks out onto your face then.

“I've been dreaming about that for forever.” You murmur, submitting to the assault of his lips. Your boyfriend chuckles in return, nuzzling your neck as he commits the smell of your skin, an alluring scent of sex and lavender, to his memory.

“Me too,” He hums, thumb gliding gently across the contour of your waist. Your sensitive pussy throbs at the light touch, rousing from the stimulation; which only reminds you of the unpleasant remnants of arousal coating your inner thighs.

As if reading your mind, Jeongguk whispers against your skin. “Let's get you cleaned up, okay?”

He eyes your figure carefully, waiting for any hint of consent before he leaves you here alone.

You manage to muster a nod and then feel his dick slip from your entrance a second later, withdrawing in a way that makes you cringe and leaves you feeling oddly empty.

“I’ll be right back.” He assures, his lips quickly, but comfortingly, brushing against your hairline. Thereafter, from your peripheral, you see Jeongguk detach himself from your side, pulling his pants back up as he disappears into the bathroom to do what he does best—take care of you.

In the meantime, you resist the temptation to slump back onto the sofa, feeling a hefty load of cum leaking down your thighs. Every muscle in your body feels relaxed, those sparks from earlier sizzling down into sleepy, smoky remnants that weigh you down. Mind a dazed mess, not sure of how much time has passed, you almost give in—the slumber you so desperately sought out at the beginning of the night finally settling into your bones—when Jeongguk walks back into the living room. He's changed into a pair of briefs and is carrying a wet cloth, as well as, a small tube of ointment.

Your body instantly perks up, a little rejuvenated by his presence.

“Hey,” Jeongguk murmurs once he's back in your close vicinity, fingers brushing against your cheeks as he peers down at you with a soft smile.

“Hey,” You tiredly grin back, pointing a finger at the items in his hand. “Those for me?”

Jeongguk hums, draping an arm around your waist to steady you. If you had the energy to freshen yourself up, you honestly would but currently, you can barely keep your eyes open. So instead you lean on your boyfriend—figuratively and literally—clutching onto his biceps as he brings the warm cloth to your nether regions. You hiss a little at the contact, still feeling delicate down there, but Jeongguk handles you with a gentle mindfulness that makes your heart swell. Makes you think back to a little over an hour ago, when you were alone in bed unable to fall asleep because he wasn't there.

And sometimes it worries you. How much you need him. How much something as simple and basic as sleep, needs the warmth of his touch to make its mark on you. How much you’ve grown to love him in the span of a few months, your life endlessly orbiting around him like the earth to the sun. How much the deepest crevices of your soul, where the vile fear of abandonment and instinctual desire to run, relinquish themselves to the light of Jeongguk’s unconditional love.

You watch him toss the used washcloth to the side before unscrewing the top of the ointment. Sigh; as his fingers, tender with purpose, apply dabs of vitamin K salve to your hips where the marks from his fingertips are starting to surface. “Shit, I'm so sorry baby.” He apologizes, the raspy, hushed tone of his voice communicating how guilt-ridden he feels. “I didn't mean to be this rough.”

And, you've never known a love like this. One that rustles through your hair like the wind on the drive down to your parents. One that meets you in the dead of winter between classes, wrapped up in coats and scarves, and coffee as the snow falls. One that kisses you goodnight, hands cupping your cheeks while the street lamps flicker outside.

One that dresses all your bruises.

It makes you want to run in the opposite direction every now and then, fleeing until you forget that you ever knew it could be this good, this safe.

But, staring at Jeongguk and the careful, intricate way he's massaging ointment onto all your black-and-blues, you bury these trepidations away, laying them to rest in the one place they belong—the past.

Because yes, you’ve never had this sort of love before—the seriousness, the commitment.

The emptied-out drawers for your clothes.

The spare toothbrush at his place.

The conversations of a future together—the clear line being crossed from fling to forever.

Even though it's a concept so scary and unfamiliar, and foreign to you—you never want to let it go.

You never want to let him go.

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misslovasstuff · 3 months

Text

Things that they say which make you weak in the knees

fem!reader x op!men: Zoro, Sanji, Law.

information: nsfw content is marked aside.

please support me here (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎) ： ko-fi

Zoro

“You’re so pretty when you fight”

The way you just send that guy flying with just one punch makes me think you can be so ruthless sometimes… I like it.”

“You decided to wear the most seductive perfume for me to get drunk on.”

“Come, rest on my lap.”

“I want to hold your hand just in case you get lost, you know…”

“I’ll never let you out of my grip.”

“You’re the sword I point to myself, my greatest weakness.”

“One more tear coming from your eyes and I’ll let the world know what it means to live in hell.”

“I got you one of those hair clips you like.”

“You’ve gotten stronger, so it will be soon enough that you will surpass curly eyebrows.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Well, can’t blame a man for not being able to say no to his woman.“

“You’re one of the strongest people I know, babe. Don’t get discouraged.”

“You feeding me food just made my whole day.”

“Just because I’m with a beautiful woman does not mean I know how I did it alright?”

“Beautiful, everything about you is so beautiful.”

“I’ve missed you all day, a lot.”

“Please say it one more time, say it again that you love me.”

NSFW

“Fuck baby, you’re tightening around me so much.”

“You like doing the exact opposite of what I tell you, huh? Then don’t bend over and absolutely don’t scream my name while I’m at it.”

“Every hole of yours takes me so well. Does your body only accept my cock?”

“You’ve been fantasising about this moment, right?”

“Spit out all the positions you’ve imagined yourself with me. We’re going to try them all.”

“Your gaze on me is so intense, what do you want baby? Whisper to me all your nasty thoughts?”

“I like it when you scream like that, go even louder if you want. Let yourself go wild, I’m here with you, I got you.”

“Look at yourself, your hips are moving on their own. Are you this eager for me?”

“Leaving all these marks on my skin, what do you want to show? That I’m yours? There is none in the world who doesn’t know that I belong to you.”

Sanji

“Where does your beauty come from? The heavens?”

“I haven’t really known love before laying my eyes on you.”

“Mon amour, the dress I got looks marvellous on you, my goodness…I can’t look away. Don’t mind your boyfriend staring at you for a while.”

“I made your favourite dessert, love. And no, it won’t make you fat, and no it was not a bother for me. You’re never a bother for me cher. Now open your mouth.”

“Who hurt you like this? Tell me. I know you’re kind and don’t want to hurt anyone, but I need to meet the bastard who did this to you.”

“Pretty girl looking at the pretty sunset not knowing she’s prettier, no, the prettiest!”

“Your hair has grown so beautifully during the past few months, sweetheart. You look like a fairy princess.”

“Wait I don’t want you to go and leave me alone with mosshead! Pleaseeeee, baby nooooo!”

“Is this guy bothering you?”

“Look man, can’t you see the lady has no interest in you whatsoever? Keep walking and don’t you dare even to look back at her, bastard!”

“I read the little note you left for me in the kitchen, it’s still not funny that you sign with a spiral brow every time.”

NSFW

“I’ll start begging if you keep teasing me like this, mon cœur.”

“So afraid to kiss your lips and taint them with mine. How can I not tremble when I touch something so heavenly?

“Slow down, Angel. All this is here for you.”

“You taste so good, I want more…more…”

“Such a good girl for putting your legs over my shoulders, you know what your boyfriend likes, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Yes, baby exactly like that. Move your tongue around it just like that.”

“Feel how deep I am in you, feel it, touch it.

“Is it alright if I start moving it? Well, perhaps it’d be good to ask myself that too because I’m feeling so overwhelmed right now.”

“Mon amour, tell me how you like it, tell me what you want, I’ll do it all for you.”

“I’ve been thinking all day of being inside you.”

“Your boobs pull my hands like magnets. Let them be the hill I die on.”

“I’m restraining my moans cause I know you’ll make fun of me later. However, I can’t help but whimper under your touch.”

“I’ll fuck you like the very first day. You remember what position you were in, don’t you? Then, be a good girl and bend over for me.”

Law

“You don’t have to put all the pressure on yourself. I’m here so relax.”

“How come you’re so confident and so shy at them same time? That’s adorable.”

“Go out with me, I promise I’ll make you the happiest woman in all the seas!”

“I could never foresee experiencing this feeling. Is this what it feels like to fall in love? Do you…do you feel it too?”

“I’ve done many mistakes in my life but you are not one.”

“I found you, someone I want to protect and risk my life for. How can I gather the strength to let go of your hand now?”

“I’m not blushing! It’s not blush it’s just the freaking sun!”

“Look, it’s hard talking about feelings ok? I need a moment to think how to not completely crumble when I gaze at your eyes.”

“How can someone so precious like you exist?”

“Your soul radiates a light so strong that it pushes off all my senses. Can I touch you?”

“I trust you. Please come back safely.”

“Allies? You specify our relationship as allies? That’s it?!

NSFW

“That’s why you were waiting for me on the deck, so you could get dicked down tonight?”

“I’ll touch you only if you use that pretty mouth of yours to beg. Come on sweetheart, don’t be mad at me, I’ve spoiled you way to much.”

“While I’m at it, start thinking of other places you want to be fucked at. The night is long, beautiful.”

“Look at me. Yes, with that satisfaction in your eyes. Take my fingers in your mouth and don’t be loud. Surely you don’t want your crew to see you in such position, yes?”

“Fuck, where did you learn to suck like that?”

“You can’t see them but there are marks in your ass from all the slapping. Only you would be crazy enough to tattoo them.”

“Driving me crazy here, you’re riding me like there’s no tomorrow. Please, don’t stop.”

“You’re so rough… I love it…I love you.”

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avis-writeshq · 6 months

Text

05 — enchanted

summary: “please don’t be in love with someone else”/“please don’t have somebody waiting on you.” pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, slow burn, no use of (Y/N) warnings: alcohol (reader gets drunk lmfao), jealousy, slight miscommunication, austin (aka: bartender girl from s4), special mention to special people wc: 4.9k a/n: everyone say thank you @astrophileous for beta-reading MWAH ilyvm zara <33 SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

Although you haven’t been a part of the BAU for more than one year, it didn’t stop you from maintaining the connections that you had in all your years of working there. Sure, the scheduling times could be better, but that didn’t stop the team from spending their rare day off to spend time with you. After all, the adjustment of seeing you every day to once in a blue moon was a difficult one to make.

O’Keefe’s has been the main victim of the team’s shenanigans, its doors open for the seven members of law enforcement, all eager to get their hands on some well earned rest and relaxation. Drinks are passed around the booth and you can’t help but laugh as you watch Derek get his ‘groove thang on’ with a few girls in the bar. Today is one of the rare occasions when the team didn’t have a case, an even rarer day when the team didn’t have to take on any new or incoming cases.

“How’s life treating you?” Emily asks cheerfully, sipping at her strawberry daiquiri. You gather that tonight is one of those nights.

You smile, sipping at your own beverage of choice. “Good! Way less stressful than working at the BAU, that’s for sure. And the hours are good, too.”

JJ snorts from beside you. “Yeah, well, can’t say I’m not jealous. How’re the kids?”

“I can’t say much because of confidentiality and all that, but they’re doing well. A lot better, thank goodness but it just goes to show the aftermath of the things that you guys deal with. I mean, I still think about all the victims we’ve helped and it sucks that we can’t do anything to help them further.” You finish your tangent with a long sip of your drink before leaning back against the booth. “Anyway, how are you guys?”

Penelope comes shuffling past carrying a series of cocktails, her absolutely monstrous platform heels not aiding her in her slightly tipsy task. “Do not even get me started on work. No work! None! We’re having a fun day. Ergo, no work talk.”

You laugh in response, moving to the side to allow her room to sit in the booth. “No, Penny, you’re right. No work talk.”

The drinks are dispersed and your gaze shifts to where Spencer is standing, laughing awkwardly as he tries to follow along to Derek’s dancing and socialising. He looks incredibly out of place in his brown argyle sweater vest, navy tie and freshly pressed slacks, and he pulls at the collar of his shirt.

“Nah, Spencer could definitely be a ladies’ man if he plays his cards right. And I mean that literally,” Emily says, bringing you out of your daydream.

Your head snaps in her direction, trying to calm your facial features and microexpressions. Regardless of your attempts, after a year of not practising, you don’t do as well as you hope. “What?”

JJ grins at you, her eyes lighting up knowingly. “We’re just talking about who’s the biggest hotshot in the BAU.”

“Wouldn’t that be David?” You ask meekly, your finger swirling along the edge of your glass. You had met David Rossi on occasion, once by accident when you were having a night out with the girls and the other during a proper introduction two weeks later. “Didn’t he have, like, five wives?”

“I had three thank you very much,” Rossi intervenes swiftly, holding his glass of whisky on ice.

“Sorry, my bad,” you respond jokingly, snickering as he shakes his head and stalks over to where Hotch is sitting and drinking his rum.

Penelope lets out a loud laugh. “I think we’re forgetting the obvious: our very own Chocolate Thunder.”

“Well, fine,” Emily drawls, waving a hand dismissively, “but Spencer has that innocent vibe to him, y’know? The kind of guy women go crazy over.”

JJ clicks her fingers in remembrance. “Didn’t a bunch of prostitutes try to pick him up in that one case?”

“What?” You ask again, albeit a little shrilly as you try to dismiss the surprise in your tone.

“He didn’t take them,” Emily says quickly in an attempt to ease your discomfort. “But he did pick up a girl a few months ago. Austin?”

Penelope nods at that, putting down her cup. “Oooh, yes! I remember her. He showed me a picture. She’s pretty.”

“I mean, he did pick up Lila too.” JJ reminds the team, shooting you a sly smile. “You remember her, don’t you?”

You force out a laugh and bite the inside of your cheek in the process. “Yeah. Who’s Austin?”

“I think I still have a picture!” Penelope says, brandishing her phone from her coat pocket. She types something in before sliding it in your direction. “Pretty, right?”

Austin is certainly pretty, even in the uncoordinated selfie Penelope shows you of her and Spencer. He’s slightly out of frame, his lips set into a sweet smile while Austin practically glows. Her brilliant green eyes flash in the camera and her dark hair frames her face perfectly. She and Spencer are close in the photo, with him holding the phone clumsily and she has a hand on his arm.

“Uh huh,” you murmur distractedly, averting your gaze from the photo as an ugly feeling creeps into your chest. “Really pretty.”

Emily looks at you curiously. “You didn’t know about her?”

You shrug in response, the smile on your face insincere. “There are a lot of things I don’t know about Spencer.”

The group exchange a couple glances at your tell-tale body language, watching as you scoot past Penelope and out of the booth, making your way to the bar. You’re all too grateful for a reprieve from the teasing as you order another drink and take a seat, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. Your mind goes through all the interactions you’ve had with Spencer over the years. Were you really that foolish to think that he would feel that way for you? Maybe you were reading too much into it, you try to reason, running your fingers through your once styled hair. Maybe, in some stupid and twisted way, all of Spencer’s interactions were platonic.

You scoff inwardly to yourself. Right. Because picking someone up at two o’clock in the morning is entirely platonic. Sleeping in the same bed as someone because of nightmares is totally normal between friends. In any case, you could have sworn that he–

“Trouble in paradise?”

An unfamiliar voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin, and you turn to the man who takes a seat beside you. “Uh… something like that.”

The man hums, a smile on his handsome features. His dark brown hair is fluffy and, in its own charming little way, suits him. He reminds you a lot of Spencer, with the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles along with the timbre of his voice. He’s also very different to Spencer, especially with his sweater that has a bright orange pumpkin on it, paired with a matching orange scarf. A pair of red tinted sunglasses hang on the neckline of his sweater, and you doubt that it would do much good to block the sun.

“I’m Matthias,” he says good naturedly, beaming. “I’m with my sister, Laura,” he explains, gesturing to a lady sporting dyed auburn coloured hair, and she waves with a matching smile.

You introduce yourself, pointing to the booth. “My friends are over there.”

Matthias nods, undeterred by your company on the other side of the bar. “Let me buy you a drink.”

***

After what felt like hours of dancing (it was really only fifteen minutes), Spencer and Derek make their way to rejoin the group. The feeling of sweat matting his skin is one of many reasons as to why Spencer hates dancing. That, and the fact that there were far too many people on the dancefloor. What’s worse is the fact that he’s sure that none of them have ever heard of the word ‘deodorant’. He cringes at the thought of all the germs that could be festering on his skin as he sits at the booth, his eyes shifting to wear your bag lays haphazardly on the red cushions.

“Where is she?” He asks instantly, turning to Emily and placing your bag so that it’s in a safer and less hazardous position.

She hums, pointing in the bar’s direction. “Getting a drink. She’s just cooling off.”

“Cooling off?” Spencer echoes, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean she’s ‘cooling off’?”

Penelope offers an apologetic smile, fiddling with the buttons on her coat. “We… might have told her about Austin?”

“You what?” Spencer can barely believe his ears as he looks at the group incredulously. “Why would you do that?”

“We didn’t mean anything bad by it,” JJ says hastily. “We didn’t think she’d react like that.”

“React like what?” Spencer’s voice is strangely stern, his eyes narrowing as he turns to the rest of the team. “I don’t like Austin. She’s nice but I don’t like her.”

Derek’s brows lift in surprise and confusion. “Did you go out with her after the case?”

Spencer’s ears burn in embarrassment and he turns to his friend in offence. “I asked her for help. I don’t like Austin like that. I needed advice.”

“Advice,” Emily repeats, turning in the direction of the bar. “You mean about…?”

Spencer doesn’t stay long enough to head the rest of Emily’s sentence or to answer it, making his way over to you are. Part of him wishes that he stayed put, especially when he sees what you’re doing. In an instant, his nose is scrunched up in distaste as he spies the random stranger chatting you up. His eyes lock with yours and he relishes in the way they light up as you wave him over.

“Hi,” he breathes, standing beside you.

“Hi!” You gush, beaming at him. “Saw you on the dancefloor.”

“You’ll never see it again,” he says honestly, stealing a sip of your drink. It tastes like vodka and the strawberry lipgloss you use (he only know what it tastes like because of its very on the nose packaging: a giant strawberry. He wishes he knew for other reasons).

You laugh, bright and loud, before you gasp excitedly. “Oh, Spencer, this is Matthias! He’s been keeping me company.” Then, you lean closer to him, your voice a very exaggerated whisper as if the person you’re talking about isn’t in the seat next to you as you tell Spencer, “he’s a director.”

Matthias waves off the statement, chuckling along. “Nothing famous though.”

“He’s a liar,” you tell Spencer enthusiastically. “Did you know he went to New York University? Crazy, right? Like, the school of arts or something. Oh! And he’s also from Vegas! You two are so alike.”

Spencer nods half-heartedly as he tells you, “you know, I went to MIT and CalTech.”

“Well I know that, silly!” You say with a drunken laugh, poking at his cheek. You turn to Matthias with a proud grin before reaching for a shot. “Spencer’s a genius. He’s a super smart genius.”

“That’s what ‘genius’ means, angel,” Spencer reminds gently, prying the little cup away from you. “No more. You’re drunk and we don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Your face falls and your lips curl into a frown. “But Spencer I’m thirsty!”

“You have water in your bag,” he prompts, squeezing your shoulder and helping you off the barstool, not paying this Matthias person any mind. “Okay? Let’s go back to the others.”

You nod eagerly, stumbling a little as you wave goodbye. “Bye, Matthias!”

“Uh huh,” Spencer dismisses, leading you back to the table by the small of your back. He leans a little closer to murmur in your ear, “why did you leave the others?”

You shrug dismissively, leaning into his side. “Doesn’t matter.”

“No, angel, it does,” he says carefully, “tell me?”

You huff in your own clumsy drunken way. “You should ask Austin. Or go pick someone else up. Emily says you’re turning into a ‘ladies’ man’.”

Spencer resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course. “I don’t like Austin,” he tells you in earnest, holding you close to his side as you stumble back to the booth. “I mean it, angel.”

“Bet you call everyone angel,” you grumble under your breath. “Bet you let everyone call you ‘Walter’ too.”

“No,” Spencer says immediately, a hand on your waist. “I only call you that. Besides, why would I let someone call me by my middle name if it isn’t you?”

You huff again, slumping in the booth as Penelope shuffles inward to give you more room. Your arms cross over your chest in annoyance and frustration and you turn away from Spencer’s direction. He doesn’t need to be a profiler to know that you’re pissed off at him. Somewhere in your hazy drunk mind, you’ve made it out as him being the bad guy.

Spencer shoots the other girls a pointed glare, gesturing at you as if to say ‘This is your fault’ because, in reality, it is. If they didn’t mention Austin, you wouldn’t be mad at him. If they didn’t mention Austin, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself drunk with some random guy who went to New York University. Spencer mocks Matthias in his head. Stupid Matthias and his stupidly good hair. Spencer runs a hand through his own growing locks, grimacing when he realises that it reaches his shoulders now. Maybe he should get a haircut later.

“Angel,” Spencer tries again, kneeling down next to your chair. “Let’s get you home, alright? Please don’t be mad at me?”

You mutter something incoherent, not bothering to look in his direction.

“I’m not in love with Austin,” he tells you, his tone a mix of firmness and gentleness. “Really, I’m not. We’re just friends, angel, I promise.”

“Liar,” you mutter under your breath as you get out of the booth. JJ guiltily passes you your bag and you take it out of her hands as Spencer grips your arm with one hand, the other on the small of your back.

“Not a lie,” Spencer says, walking you to his car. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. Not after Lila.”

“Lie-la,” you say bitterly as you get into the passenger seat. “Stupid actress.”

He laughs at that, getting behind the wheel. “Yeah, angel. Stupid actress.”

“You kissed her in a pool,” you continue as you fumble drunkenly with the buckle of the seatbelt. “You don’t kiss me in the pool.”

Spencer’s cheeks burn at your words as he puts your seatbelt on, his fingers grazing yours. “It never came up. Besides, I hate pools, you know that.”

“Germ-y,” you respond knowingly, a silly giddy smile on your face. “I know you the best.”

“Exactly,” he hums as starts the car, his words flowing smoothly as he considers how drunk you are. There’s no way you’d remember this, right? “Why would I find another girl when I have you who knows me best?”

Your cheeks glow with pride at his words and you laugh. “Exactly.”

***

It’s late. Far too late and you toss and turn in bed. Your eyes are heavy but your brain won’t shut up, swirling with the memories of the previous night. You’re not really sure what happened after you got to the bar, only remembering snippets of the night. The entire time was a blur: you remember getting upset at the girls (or rather, at the information they were feeding you), meeting someone– Mason? Matthew? You can’t even remember– and then downing three shots. It’s awfully stupid of you, yes but then somehow you got home safe and sound with a note on your kitchen counter from Spencer.

You felt a little silly upon the finding of the note. Of course Spencer would take you home; it’s not like the girls were particularly sober by the time you wanted to leave. Regardless, reading the note made you feel incredibly stupid, more stupid than usual, and you wanted nothing more than to bury yourself six feet underground.

‘Hi angel,’ it read in Spencer’s messy scrawl with chaotic lettering and swirly g’s. ‘You’re probably really hungover right now so there’s a Tylenol on the counter and a sandwich in the fridge. Please drink water; I’m sure you’re also severely dehydrated from the alcohol. I know you’re upset at me but please just forget about what the others said about Austin. I don’t like her like that. Be safe and call me when you wake up.’

The note was fine, nothing out of the ordinary, just Spencer being his usual ridiculously lovely self. You didn’t mind that he took care of you, either. It’s more-so the fact that you genuinely could barely remember what you said that him. You’re betting on it being something exceedingly dumb (you’re making a habit of it, much to your own chagrin), especially considering how much you had to drink that night. Maybe you should start abstaining from drinking from now on, especially if Spencer was in the vicinity.

The note is now pinned securely to your cork board, a pretty lavender thumb tack holding it in place. Your gaze drifts to it for a moment then to your clock and you groan into your pillow. This is dumb. Sleep is dumb. Your clock blinks with the numbers ‘02:01’ in red mocking letters and you resist the urge to scream. After blindly searching for your phone, you step out of bed while rubbing your eyes.

The lingering question keeps you up as you pace back and forth beside you bed. If Spencer doesn’t like Austin, who does he like? It can’t be Lila. You would have known if they kept in contact. Then again, you had no idea who Austin was so who knows what secrets Spencer is keeping? What if there was another girl? What if your entire friendship with Spencer was exactly that– friendship. You slap the palm of your hand to your forehead. Were you really that stupid?

It’s in that moment when your phone begins to ring. The tune plays through the room and you know it all too well; the Doctor Who theme song that you spent a whopping two dollars and thirty-seven cents on to add it as the custom ringtone for Spencer.

“Hello…?” You answer quietly, your voice choking. “Walter?”

“Angel,” he murmurs, and you can hear shuffling in the background. “Why are you still awake?”

You hum, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I could ask you the same question.”

He laughs quietly on the other side of the line, scratchy from the lack of sleep. “Can I come over?”

“Always.”

He hangs up after that and you press the pads of your fingers into the corners of your eyes again. You’re exhausted, far too exhausted to be hosting guests, but this is Spencer. How can you ever say no to him? So, instead of sulking around and spending far too long doing nothing, you fashion yourself a cup of tea and flick the lights on. The book you were reading is thrown haphazardly onto the cushions of your couch but you can’t bring yourself to pick it up.

The jiggling of the door handle brings you out of your little mood, and Spencer lets himself in with the key you gave him, locking it securely and taking his shoes off to reveal his sock choice of the day: one bright green and the other in fuchsia with buttercup yellow spots. He’s wearing a crinkly white t-shirt that hangs over his gangly frame and grey sweatpants. For something so basic, he looks absolutely criminal in it. You pinch yourself as punishment for thinking such a thing.

“Hey,” he breathes, sitting next to you. He runs his fingers through his hair, frowning a little. “Do you think I should get it cut?”

You laugh, almost spilling your tea. “You came to my apartment at two in the morning to ask what I think about your hair?”

“Yes,” he agrees before laughing, “no! Of course not. I just thought of it.”

A hum leaves your lips as you curl a strand of his hair around your finger. “I like long hair on you. Besides, you’d look good in any hair cut.”

Spencer preens at your words, enjoying the feel of your touch in his hair. “You’re a liar. I know what I looked like four years ago. Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!” You insist, beaming at him as you poke his cheek. “You were really cute back then. Like a baby.”

He flushes again at both the compliment and the contact, his mind committing the way you say ‘baby’ to memory. He thinks it again and again; baby, baby, baby.

“I was not a baby,” He tells you, half in jest. “I’m older than you!”

“By a year,” you quip, the sleep deprivation making your head go loopy. “Barely. Doesn’t matter, you’re still baby.”

Spencer scoffs lightly, poking your side. “If I’m a baby, what does that make you? A foetus? A zygote?”

You let out a quiet scream in protest, whacking him over the head with a throw pillow. “Ew, Spencer what the hell?”

He snickers in response, shielding his face with his forearm. “If I’m a baby and you’re younger than me, you must be at an earlier stage of development. So? Which is it, are you a foetus or a zygote? C’mon, angel, you passed eighth grade biology.”

“You’re an ass,” you chastise jokingly, rolling your eyes as you look up at him. Sometime amidst the commotion he must have gotten closer to you. Your noses are almost touching and your breath hitches in your throat.

He smiles sweetly, his own cheeks warm and flushed with embarrassment as he maintains eye contact. “I thought I was ‘baby’.”

What the hell? Is this really Spencer Reid? Silly, awkward, nerdy little Spencer Reid? This must be a very convincing body suit and an even more convincing voice altering machine because this is not Spencer Reid. You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks and ears so quickly that it’s enough to make you go dizzy. Maybe you’re a lot more sleep deprived than you thought.

“Are you drunk?” You croak out meekly as he cages you in, his forearms on either side of your head as he leans you against the couch.

He laughs– he has the actual audacity to laugh– and he shakes his head. “No, angel, I’m not drunk. You know I don’t drink enough to actually get drunk. Besides, I drove here.”

“You drove here,” you repeat, a little dazed from how close he is. “It’s two in the morning.”

“Almost three now but yes,” Spencer agrees, smiling.

“You hate driving,” you remind him, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Especially at night.”

He hums in agreement. “I do. But I wanted to see you.”

“Oh.”

You kick yourself internally. ‘Oh’? Who the hell says ‘Oh’? This is it. Your life is over. Maybe you should move to another state. Change your name, shave your head, and get a different degree because you’re almost certain that it’s the end of the line for you.

Spencer lets out a soft chuckle. “I missed you.”

“You saw me two days ago?” You say it like a question and you suddenly feel yourself sweating. It definitely got hotter in here.

He murmurs your name, his fingers grazing the skin of your jaw gently. “I’m so glad I met you.”

“I ran into you four years ago and almost gave myself a concussion,” you say, averting your gaze as you tried to calm yourself down.

“I’m so glad I met you,” he repeats softly, his nose brushing against your cheek. “Look at me, angel.”

You wet your bottom lip nervously as you look at him, his hazel eyes a little greener in the low light of your apartment. His legs are on either side of your hips and he brushes his thumb against your chin.

“I want to kiss you,” Spencer says lowly, albeit a little breathlessly, and you can hear hoarseness in his words. “Can I?”

You’re dead. You’re either dead or asleep, that is the only explanation you have for this entire situation. You’re either dead and in heaven or asleep and dreaming. It is that plain and simple.

“What?” You croak out, your nails digging into the skin of your thighs.

“I know you wanted to do it in a pool but I’m pretty sure your apartment gym is closed now, angel,” Spencer says, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. “Can I kiss you?”

The only thing you can manage to do is nod, your eyes flickering to his lips for a split second, watching as the corners of his mouth tug upwards. Your brain barely has any time to comprehend the words he said (since when did you say that you wanted to kiss him in the pool?) because in a rush of confidence, Spencer cups your face and presses his lips to yours in a tantalisingly slow kiss. His eyes are closed and his hands are eerily soft, the gentleness in which he holds you reminiscent of one holding porcelain.

He pulls away after a moment, his cheeks burning and a smile on his face. You can’t even breathe as you just stare at him, lips parted in surprise. What do you even say to that?

“Thank you?” You manage to stutter out, heat creeping up your neck.

He laughs again, breathless and beautiful, as he kisses the side of your face. “You’re welcome.”

Spencer brushes an eyelash from your cheek, beaming at you as he does. “It’s late,” he tells you, getting up from the couch and freeing your limbs. “You should get some rest.”

“Uh huh,” you respond, your head spinning. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he says back, trying to hold in a laugh. “I’m free next Friday. Do you want to go out?”

“Go out?” You echo, “we always go out.”

“I know.” He smiles at you again as he makes his way to the door. “I meant– you know. We can go out.”

A beat passes and your head is awfully slow, whether from the kiss or from the sleep deprivation, you’re not entirely sure. “We can go out.”

“Great.” He pauses, taking a step towards you before kissing your cheek. “I’ll text you.”

“You’ll–” you gape at him again as he opens your door to leave. “You hate texting.”

He nods, slipping on his shoes. “I also hate driving at night. Your point?”

“Right,” you murmur, more to yourself than anything. “Text me when you get home?”

“Of course I will, angel,” he promises, “get some rest.”

Get some rest? How the hell are you supposed to get some rest after all that? With one last wave, Spencer leaves your apartment, leaving you hoping that this wasn’t just some thing. Maybe this was the very first page of your story– a very embarrassing start to your story. There is one thing for certain though: Spencer is not in love with someone else.

***

It’s a Tuesday when Penelope calls you. You had just finished up with a client when your phone begins to ring.

“Penny!” You gush, unable to stop the smile from stretching onto your face. “I am stupid, I said ‘thank you’? Who the hell says thank you after someone kisses you?”

“Who kissed you?” Penelope asks, and if you weren’t so caught up in your own tangent you would have noticed that she sounded tearful.

“Spencer did!” You exclaim, slapping a hand to your forehead. “He’s sitting there and he looks amazing and he smells really good and I am stupid.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Penelope says quickly, and you can imagine her waving her fluffy pen around. “He kissed you and you said thank you?”

“Yes.”

“Well that was very polite of you,” she says, trying to sound happy before her voice cracks.

You frown immediately, taking a seat in the wheelie chair in your office. “Penny? Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

“It’s about Spencer,” she says woefully, sniffling. “He wanted me to tell you something. It’s not looking good, honey, but– but he wanted me to give you a message.”

“Penny–” You stop short when you hear Spencer’s voice. It’s a recording from his phone, and you can only really tell because of the crackling audio on the other side of the line.

“Is it on?” Spencer asks before clearing his throat. He sounds breathless, his words breaking off at some parts and you know that it’s not from the bad audio quality. “Hey, angel, it’s me, Spenc– Walter. It’s your Walter. If you’re getting this then something happened and I just wanted you to know that– that I love you. I didn’t get the chance to tell you that before but I do. I love you and I wish it didn’t turn out like this but I am– I am so glad that we had that moment.”

Through the recording you can hear a shuffle, like the sound of a sliding door being opened, along with a quiet, “Prep the victim for transfer,” before the recording cuts out, leaving you with Penelope on the line.

She calls your name quietly, choking on her words. “Are you okay?”

You hang up.

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alicedrawslesmis · 3 months

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(sorry this is from a week ago but) Wait, what's going on right now that's complicated with Amazonian farmers' land rights?

Not farmers, indigenous people

See, recently they put a new law through congress that severely reduces indigenous land to the borders established during the late dictatorship, or immediately post-dictatorship, in 1988. An absolute joke of a border that was dreamed up by some military assholes. People in america may recognize this type of society from the times of westward expansion and think this is a thing of the past because for you guys it is. But here it is a reality. Murder is rampant. The reach of the law is incredibly limited. Government is just too weak and landowners basically run things. THAT'S WHY it's so important to donate directly to the native peoples instead of random NGOs because native people are fucking there and the more power they hold in the land the safer the land will be from agroindustrial expansion.

Well the law was vetoed by the the president and the Supremo Tribunal Federal, aka supreme federal court, labeled it as unconstitutional. Which it is, because our 1988 constitution describes native american land rights in some of its first articles. We thought this would be it for the law

But then the senate (that already overrepresents landowners in rural states) just went along and approved it anyway. I had no idea they could approve something unconstitutional. The progressives and particularly the socialists are fighting this in court. But it happens that for now the legal border is the severely reduced version.

Doesn't mean they'll just give up, because as it happens we don't have any stand your ground laws so even if you own a piece of land, you cannot legally speaking just shoot everyone there. Or attack or threaten them in any way. They'll just have long legal battles individually for the rights to occupy land based on use. Also the Xingu national park, the largest preserved land of the Amazon described as 'larger than Belgium', is being encroached by huge farms that are poisoning their water supply. The border is Visible. I'll try to find video of it but essentially you have a forest and a desert separated by a strict line.

Just last week in the south of Bahia (not the Amazon, let me explain more about the Amazon situation in a bit) Hãhãhãe leadership Nega Muniz Pataxó was shot and killed by an armed militia group that invaded and occupied the Caramuru territory.

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The situation in the Amazon, specifically the yanomami territory in Roraima our northernmost state, aka deep forest, is more dire than average given difficulty of access, sheer size, and government abandonment. It's a place that depends on government aid for medicine. It's land that is being systematically invaded by gold miners, pandemic, toxins from nearby farmlands, wood extraction etc. (wood extration is rampant everywhere tho). Early 2023 saw a massive federal government operation by now president Lula to empty the mines and try to look for where funding comes from. Yanomami land is still being invaded to this day, the struggle is ongoing.

The yanomamis need support right now more than any other. Last year saw a massive heat wave that (well, one, caused a girl named Ana Clara Machado to die during the Taylor Swift concert. This is unrelated but I feel like not enough foreign media covered this, Taylor even lied about it as well.) dried up a lot of rivers, killed a LOT of fresh water animals including an unprecedented amount of pink dolphins. Access that was already hard became damn near impossible without boats. I cannot overstate how many pink dolphins were found dead.

Another technique that landowners use to clear space for farms is to just set things on fire and then occupy the empty land, which they legally can do to land that was naturally burned in a forest fire. It happened that Pantanal, another national park of swampland, was massively devastated by fires last year too

this article is from 2020, the year that the worst fire happened, but in 2023 there was another one. It's been happening yearly now due to a) deliberate action and b) climate change aggravation.

And this is not nearly all. Just off the top of my head. If you speak portuguese I recommend following the APIB or the COIAB on instagram to keep up with the news. The FUNAI is the government branch of indigenous organization, but it's not generally that well liked. Still.

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kettlefire · 10 days

Text

It's not you, it's me. (DPxDC)

Long post, but short plot info or progression wise!

Danny loves his parents, don't get him wrong. They weren't perfect by any means, but they tried. As hard as it was for him to come to terms with, it's okay. Really.

It's okay that Jazz had been the one to raise him. It's okay that his parents talked about wanting to rip him apart during mealtime. It's okay they didn't notice the way ghostly things attached to Danny. It's okay that they never paid enough attention to put his secret together.

It's okay because they weren't bad parents. Not as bad as they could be. Yes, they could be a little reckless. Yes, they had their problems. But the good times were there.

Saturday morning fudge cooking with Jack. Late night self-defense class with Maddie. Tinkering in the lab with both of them. Even the normal embarrassing moments were good.

Because his parents are awesome. They are absolutely cool, and they did their best. As best as they could.

That's why it hurt so much to leave.

It hurt to leave Amity Park, but it hurt more to leave his family. He felt it deep in his core, the pain of having to separate from those he loves. Those he needed to protect.

But it was time. If Danny wanted to protect them, he needed to leave. So, he did. He almost didn't say goodbye. Almost didn't want to face it all.

His friends were easy to say goodbye to, but it still hurt just as much. Sam and Tucker, they understood why he had to go. Same with Jazz. There were talks about other ideas and plans so that Danny didn't need to leave. But he had to. There was no other option.

But Danny needed to tell his parents everything. Tell them about his accident, tell them that he was Phantom. He couldn't just say bye and leave with no explanation. So he bit the bullet and did it.

It went well. Better than good, it was amazing. And Danny wished he could stick around to see the changes in his parents' work because of it.

Danny has cried enough times this past week than he was sure he cried his whole life. He had his fill, he doubt he could cry again soon.

For everyone's safety, Danny Fenton left Amity Park. Phantom had vanished from the streets. Amity Park was safe. The Anti-Ecto laws, the GIW, all of it. They wouldn't target Amity Park anymore.

It was a lot of work to get the other ghosts on board. But after Clockwork confirmed everything, it all set into motions. The world was free of ghosts, but Danny wasn't sure how long the others could stay away.

He needed a plan, needed to get the government to understand ghosts. But there was nothing Danny could truly do. He was just a kid.

He is just a kid. Just a kid leaving in a small apartment right by a place nicknames crime alley. But Danny liked it. Gotham had enough noise and ambient ectoplasm to keep him safe. It would be hard for anyone to find him.

He was safe. Safe for once. But Danny knew it wouldn't last long.

The problem here? Danny was all alone. He didn't have his team to contact. Didn't have Sam or Jazz to tell him that a plan was downright stupid. Didn't have Tucker to back up the stupid plans that could actually work.

That's how he ended up in space.

Danny loves space, and he wished he was visiting in better circumstances. Thankfully, the vacuum of space had no impact on Danny's ghost form. It was harder than he expected to find what he was looking for.

God, Danny wished Tucker was here. The techno-nerd was a wiz with the computer. Amazing at hacking and tracking in a way Danny couldn't understand.

But Danny didn't have Tucker. He didn't have anyone right now. He couldn't have anyone right now.

Even so, Danny found it. Found the secret space base for the Justice League. It was a struggle, but he found it. And for once, his luck was on his side.

The whole team was there. Well, the main ones you see on the news and in the paper. All sitting around a giant table, a whole meeting was happening.

Danny took one shuddering breath in before phasing into the Watchtower invisibly. He was honestly surprised when no alarms went off. No defenses were triggered. He made a mental note to give them some ghost detection equipment if things go well.

Except things didn't go well. At least not the way Danny had been hoping.

He silently made his way to the table, standing a bit of a distance from them. Just in case he needed to run. His eyes jumped between the different heroes.

Danny steeled his nerves, at least tried to. He stood directly across from Batman, in the perfect spot to be noticed instantly. Then he dropped his invisibility.

All eyes were on him in an instance. Danny never felt so terrified in his life. Not like this. His attempt at steeling his nerves failed immediately.

Maybe the anxiety and fear was clear on his face. Maybe it's because he is a child, despite glowing and being someplace he shouldn't be. But Danny vaguely heard a soft, gentle voice speak to him.

He couldn't make it out, not really. His ears were filled with the sounds of his rushing ectoplasm. A tremble settled in his hands, and Danny knew he needed to hurry up. He needed to speak before he lost all his cool.

"I... Sorry, I know I shouldn't be here... But, uh, my name's Phantom... And I... I..."

The words stumbled and spilled from Danny in a less than elegant and confident way. The shaking in his hands got worse the more he tried to speak. His voice shaky and waivering, even when he tried to sound strong.

And Danny couldn't pull his gaze away from Batman. The cape crusader stood unmoving, unphased, and completely silent. The other heroes had a mixed of expression, but Danny couldn't read Batman.

That unnerved the teen so much. In that moment, he regretted ever coming here. He regretted leaving Amity Park. He regretted telling his parents. He regretted ever stepping foot in that damn portal to begin with.

Then something snap inside of Danny. The dam that was holding everything in just suddenly broke. In a split second, his vision grew blurry with tears.

Even though he didn't need to breathe, his breathing started to pick up. Fast and short. He could feel the phantom feeling of a heart beating rapidly in his chest. Or maybe it was his core warning him of the sudden wave of emotions rocking through him.

"I... I... Help."

The single word, the single plea, spilled from Danny in a pathetic whimper. Before he suddenly dropped to his knees. He curled in on himself. Arms wrapped tightly around himself, head bowed and white hair curtaining his face. Tears fell fast down his cheeks, leaving droplets on the floor, as choked sobs left him.

In that moment, Danny didn't feel like a hero. Didn't feel like Phantom. Didn't feel like the ghostly hero that was in charge of fixing everything.

In that moment, Danny felt like a scared little kid. A kid who was given too much too fast, with no real guidance. A kid that had to grow up fast and had people depending on him. A kid who was exhausted and terrified. A kid that wanted nothing more than to run home. To be wrapped up in a Jack Fenton Bear Hug. To feel his mother's hand combing through his hair as she whispered gentle reassuring words to him.

In the end, Danny Fenton was still just a kid. And it seemed the Justice League could see that.

Danny couldn't focus on the words he heard spoken around him. He couldn't focus on the moments either. He couldn't focus on anything.

Until suddenly, arms were wrapped around him in a gentle and warm embrace. He felt something draped over his back. Danny blinked the blurriness in his vision just enough to make out who was in front of him.

Batman. The hero that scared Danny the most seconds ago.

Except this time, even through the cowl, Batman looked softer. The man looked human and understanding. It made Danny's mind flash to his parents once again. Which only made him cry harder.

A glowing kid was wrapped up in Batman's arms, the two kneeling on the ground. Batman's cape wrapped around the trembling, sobbing form. The kid clinging to Batman like a lifeline. The rest of the Justice League stood around the two.

Nobody quite knowing what the hell they were supposed to do. Or what was really going on.

All those heroes needed to know was simple enough. There was a kid who went through all this trouble to end up in the Watchtower. A kid that's so hurt and exhausted, pleading for help. And helping was the Justice League's specialty.

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reiding-writing · 13 days

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Hiiii, first of all i wanna say congratsss!! You’re an amazing writer and i LOVE your stuff! Secondly, i would like to mention that i’ve never actually made a request before so bear with me 😬 Okay okay, so i was wondering if you could write cold!reader with angsty prompt 28. "I can't believe I didn't see that coming." and general prompt 23. “I thought I’d lost you.” Maybe spencer gets hurt and reader shows emotion (maybe some tears) and the team is all like ???

(feel free to ignore this btw 💗💗)

CLOSE CALL [CLIMACTERIC]

28. “I can’t believe I didn’t see that coming.”

23. “I thought I’d lost you.”

WARNINGS: fem!reader, guns, hostage situation, character death, reader is her typical rash self, happy ending

spencer reid x cold!reader || hurt/comfort || 2.8k ||

a/n: thank you <3 i’m honoured to be the conduit you chose for your first request and i hope this is what you envisioned 🫶

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ cold!reader masterlist!!

event masterlist!!

Spencer’s hands shake so much as he pulls off his bulletproof vest you’re not sure how he has enough articulation in his fingers to do so in the first place.

“Reid, you’re not ready to do this.” Your words aren’t as harsh as they are truthful, but it cuts him down the same anyhow. “Let me or Hotch do it.”

“No, I need to do this myself,” Spencer shakes his head determinedly, and if he wasn’t so focused on the sheer amount of adrenaline running through his veins right no he’d probably be proud of himself for standing up to you and not just following your word as law, but alas, the only thing he could feel right now is absolute dread. “He won’t listen to you.”

Why was it always him that got personally involved with the unsubs? It was like they were a heat-seeking missile locked only onto his location.

Literally locked onto his location in this case. He’d seen him —Daniel as he called himself— on the train home from work, in the coffee shop he frequented, the local library, and he swears he also saw him parked in his apartment building’s parking lot.

It was like he was silently screaming at Spencer to notice him, and when he finally got to speak to the man, he asked for help. He was afraid. He was afraid of himself because he was having horribly intrusive thoughts that made him want to do terrible things and he viewed Spencer as his only scapegoat. Pros and cons of being all over the news for his job he supposes.

Spencer really did try to help him, but every suggestion he made was shut down like they weren’t good enough, like Daniel wanted Spencer to physically go into his brain and remove all of the faulty parts that were making him feel insane.

Spencer’s help just wasn’t good enough, and it lead to multiple people dying as a result.

And now Daniel was holding a woman hostage in her own house.

How was he supposed to not feel solely responsible for that?

Spencer had to be the one to speak to him. Not you or Hotch and your negotiation training, him and his personal connection to all the deaths that had happened because he wasn’t able to help someone that was begging him to save them from their own mind.

He practically shoves his revolver into your hand as he commits to going inside, taking a second to regulate his breathing before emerging from behind the SUVs to approach the closed front door, leaving you all in wait, guns raised at every window in the event that something goes wrong.

Something was bound to go wrong.

“Reid the minute that something feels off you leave, understand?” It technically wasn’t your call to make, but as you spoke into the small radio on your chest you weren’t really thinking about that. It’s not like Hotch would disagree with you anyway.

There’s a few seconds of silence over the radio, even though you know he heard you from the slight jolt in his spine as he reached the front door of the house. “Reid. Tell me that you understand that.”

“Copy,”

You had half the mind to drag him back into the car from that response alone. He clearly wasn’t listening to you, not properly anyway, and having such an emotional involvement in something like this was going to get him killed if he treated it the wrong way.

“Be careful,” Hotch was less antagonistic in his warning, but it held the same message.

Spencer threw an arbitrary thumbs up above his head before knocking on the door of the house and entering slowly with both his arms raised.

Then it was a waiting game. A stalemate where you had to sit with your guns trained and just wait for any sign of change. It was like absolute torture.

It was virtual silence and tumble weeds for the best of five minutes, and then there was a loud gunshot sound that echoed from inside the walls of the house, and all of that waiting felt for naught as you pressed the button on your radio with a steady stream of trepidation raising in your throat that he might not answer you. “Reid? Reid come in.”

You wait for something to come from the other side of the radio, even if it’s just the crackle of static from him pressing the button without actually speaking into it. But all you get is silence, and it makes that sinking feeling grow until you literally feel like you’re about to throw up your stomach.

You don’t think twice about running towards the front door of the house after you don’t get an answer, ignoring the calls of Hotch for you to back down and let SWAT take care of it so he didn’t possibly lose two agents instead of just one.

He knew you weren’t going to listen to him either way.

You open the door with your pistol raised at your eyes, the weight of Spencer’s revolver tucked into the waistband of your jeans acting both as an instrument to ground you and as a torturous reminder that the gunshot you heard couldn’t have possibly been from him.

It had to have come from Daniel.

Logically you should’ve swept the ground floor first before rushing straight into the dining room where you knew the three had been last, in case Daniel had left the room and approached you from behind.

You don’t of course, and you kick open the barricaded dining room door with enough force to splinter the door frame holding the hinge pin in place, the door hitting the wall with a thud.

The sight you’re met with is not what you expected to find.

“Reid—” You drop your gun to your side the second your eyes land on the back of his head, his back to you and his eyes locked on Daniel, lying on his back on the dining room floor with a bullet hole to the side of his head, his blood slowly pooling on the linoleum.

The woman he had hostage was alive too, thank god, practically trying to melt into the corner as she cried into her hands, obviously still in shock over what happened.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see that coming,” Spencer’s words didn’t feel like they were coming from himself as he spoke, his voice feeling detached from his consciousness as his mind focused on fully comprehending the situation.

“I can’t believe how stupid you are—” Your body forces a sharp breath to leave your mouth as it cools don from the adrenaline rushing through your system, and you pull Spencer backwards by his arm to stop the blood from Daniel’s body reaching his shoes. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I just- I don’t know,” Spencer gives up on trying to find an explanation for his actions before even really thinking about it. He knows there’s no use, because he really wasn’t thinking, it was just acting on instinct.

“You see this Reid?” You give the radio on his chest a pull with your hand, causing him to stumble forward towards you in the process. “It’s a radio, use it.” There’s no denying the insurmountable rage in your tone as you berate Spencer for his carelessness, something that he most definitely deserves as he stands there nodding at you like an idiot.

You let go of his radio with a small push, sending him stumbling backwards this time, and you take a second to compose yourself before pressing on your own radio to communicate with the rest of the team. “I’ve got Reid and the hostage alive. The unsub shot himself.”

“Copy that, we’re coming in.”

Hotch’s voice may as well be a leaf in the wind as Spencer puts his full focus into how absolutely furious you seem with him.

“I’m sorry—”

”Sorry isn’t good enough.” You ignore the arrival of your teammates in the house, how they carefully guide the hostage outside to get her looked over by the ambulance waiting outside and how they secure the scene for the forensics team to deal with. “You cannot throw your life away by running head first into a dangerous situation knowing you can’t defend yourself.”

“I thought—”

“What? That it’d be fine? That you all of a sudden had all the training you needed to talk down an armed serial killer with serious delusions that could leave you as his next victim?” Maybe you we’re being a bit too harsh on him, but it was important he understood exactly what could’ve gone wrong. “You might be a genius Reid, but you are the dumbest goddamn person I have ever met.”

Spencer presses his lips together into a line at your declaration, lowering his head until his gaze is firmly planted on the floor.

“You are not an expendable resource, you can’t be replaced, and you need to understand that before you throw yourself into a possible line of fire do you understand me?” You ignore the lingering gaze of Hotch as you continue your verbal assault on Spencer, and you know you’ll probably get an earful yourself for being so hard on him, but he gave you a real scare, and you were expressing that to him in the way that suited you most.

“Yes I understand, I’m sorry…” The slight waver of his voice as he responds to you is enough to knock your anger down a peg, and you drag your hand down your face with a sigh.

“We were scared for you Reid, you could’ve died.”

“I know…”

You give another soft sigh at the voice he barely keeps his voice controlled as he whispers out his answer to you, on the verge of tears from your thorough verbal assault.

“Don’t do it again. I thought I’d lost you.” You lift up one of your hands to put it on his shoulder, although it lands closer to the curve of his neck, prompting his face upwards to meet your eyes once more. “And as much as you can be idiotic, the team needs you alive.”

He gives you a soft hum as an answer this time, not trusting his voice to not crack if he were to speak properly.

He tries not to focus on the warmth of your hand on his neck, nor on the fact that you’d said ‘I’ instead of ‘we’ when talking about being concerned for his safety under fear of only worsening his attempts at keeping himself composed.

Your gaze softens marginally as you spot the glassiness of his eyes, and for a second he swears that the protective shield you cover yourself with disappears to show the amount of concern you truly felt for him.

“I’m okay… I promise,” He nods softly at you with rounded eyes. He’s mildly flattered by how much you care, but he doesn’t want you to show it as concern, positive emotions suited you much better he thinks.

“You’re lucky, and it won’t last forever,” You use you hand against his shoulder to turn him around, pushing him gently towards the front door and using the opportunity of him not facing you to swallow the start of your own tears, clearing your throat into your elbow as he takes your lead in leaving the house.

“Reid,” Hotch is on top of the two of you before you even walk out the door. “Go and meet Morgan by the ambulance, I want you checked over,”

“But—“

“Go,” Hotch’s inherent ability to be authoritative trumps Spencer’s resistance immediately, and Spencer begrudgingly leaves your side with a small “yes sir,” to go and be checked out by one of the EMTs.

You attempt to follow him at first, but you’re promptly stopped by Hotch raising his hand in your direction, and then gesturing you over to him.

“Berating somebody for running into a dangerous situation head first with how you responded is very—“

“Hypocritical, I know,” You interrupt the end of Hotch’s sentence by finishing it yourself. “But if he hadn’t gotten into that situation in the first place then I wouldn’t have had to respond the way I did,”

“I understand you care about Reid,” Hotch crosses his arms over his chest, and although there is zero malice in his expression or his tone, you can still tell that he’s not exactly happy with you right now. “But you also need to be more careful with how you handle yourself,”

You narrow your gaze at him a little, and he mirrors it right back at you. “You can’t worry about keeping Reid alive if you’re not alive yourself, you need to be more careful, understand?”

“Yes sir,” The words are almost begrudging as they leave your mouth, but you know he’s right really. Running in after Spencer without a second thought and then berating him for being reckless was hypocritical, and you probably deserved to be reprimanded for it.

—

“You really gave her a scare you know,” Morgan speaks, prompted by Spencer’s very obvious lingering glances in your direction as you speak with Hotch.

“I know,” Spencer sighs dejectedly as he finally removes his eyes from you to allow the paramedic in front of him to check his pupillary response. “She made sure of that,”

“She cares about you Reid,” Morgan gives him a squeeze on his shoulder. “You’re gonna give the poor girl a heart attack if you keep this up,”

“That’s quite dramatic, the chances of somebody going into cardiac arrest from shock is extremely low, only 5% of all cases, and technically it would actually be cardiogenic shock, which isn’t a heart attack,”

“It’s a figure of speech Reid,” Morgan gives him a small playful shove after the paramedic has finished his evaluation, rolling his eyes. “Point is, you scared her, and I don’t know whether to be amazed or concerned at the fact that’s even possible,”

“She’s just as likely to be afraid as anyone else,” Spencer bites his cheek at Morgan’s declaration, unsure whether he should feel guilty or flustered at just how much you seemed to care about him, from the words of the rest of the team anyway.

“I mean yeah we were all worried about you, but she ran head first into the house with a potentially manic shooter inside, by herself, after Hotch told her to wait for backup,” Morgan gives Spencer a light nudge with his elbow, raising his eyebrows with an amused expression. “You know what I call that? Favouritism,”

Spencer lets out a small airy laugh, shaking his head as he stands from the edge of the ambulance.

“Face it pretty boy, you’re stuck with her for life, even if it means she follows you into an early grave,” The teasing in Morgan’s voice is unmistakeable, but his words ring truth either way. “Let’s just make sure you don’t end up in an early grave alright?”

“Yeah—” Spencer lets out another small breath through his mouth as Morgan pats his hand between his shoulder blades, gesturing for Spencer to follow him towards the rest of the team with a nod of his head.

Spencer doesn’t want to cut himself short just yet, especially if that means you’ll serve yourself the same fate. Although the idea of having you accompany him, even if it did mean in whatever lies after death, didn’t sound like too bad of an idea.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #climacteric 🪶

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