#sorry a long one! for talking heads mutuals
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do you believe me now? | 4
in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.
part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three
18+ (smut)
warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!)
a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses
(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!
“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”
You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him.
“That one is complicated.”
You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye.
“You don’t know.”
“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”
“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”
“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”
“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”
Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign.
You look at it.
And then you set your phone down.
“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness.
Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder.
“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”
Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside.
“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”
“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”
“Yes, I have.”
It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes.
“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”
You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment.
He looks good. Almost too good.
“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek.
“Something… naked?”
His grin widens and he shakes his head.
“Me naked or you naked?”
Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth.
“Mm… why not both?”
“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”
The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him.
“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”
He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.
“You sound sure of yourself.”
“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”
He grabs your wrist carefully.
“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”
“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.”
He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”
Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek.
“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”
“So business as usual?”
He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best.
“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”
A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.
Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body.
You cover his hand with your own.
“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”
Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion.
“What? No!”
“Are you going to cheat on me?”
“Absolutely not, I—”
“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”
“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”
“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”
It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies.
“Every time?”
“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks.
“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”
You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense.
“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”
“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”
You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this.
“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”
Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy.
“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”
You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel.
“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”
He kisses your palm.
“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”
“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”
Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.
“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”
He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him.
“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you.
“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”
“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”
Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly.
“You want to know what I’d do to you?”
“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds.
“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”
As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no.
“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”
You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful.
“What are you gonna do after that?”
“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”
Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly.
“Yes, please.”
He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting.
“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”
“Why careful? I don’t want that.”
He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine.
“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”
The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it.
“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”
It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for.
Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—
And then his phone rings.
You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present.
He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing.
“I’m sorry.”
Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.
“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster.
If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem.
“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”
He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest.
“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place.
You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand.
“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”
He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair.
“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”
You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him.
“Sure. Thanks.”
“Yeah.”
Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful.
Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front.
“I’m sorry,” he sighs again.
“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”
“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”
You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you.
But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame.
Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you.
In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul.
“Spencer?”
“Hm?”
It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin.
“I…”
Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential.
He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands.
“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind.
“I forget.”
FUUUUUUCK.
Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake.
He knows.
He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity.
Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like.
“Well, let me know if you remember.”
It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.
Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before.
You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.
But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it?
Maybe you have it all wrong.
Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you.
You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick.
24 hours go by.
24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up.
Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure.
Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)
Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off.
You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking.
“Hello?”
Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep.
“Shit, did I wake you?”
“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed.
“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”
“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”
“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone.
“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”
A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said.
“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room.
“Oh. Is everything okay?”
“As much as it can be.”
“Right.”
More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while.
“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”
“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”
“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs.
“What? Why?”
“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”
Laughter tapers off into gentler tones.
“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”
Blood rushes to your cheeks.
“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”
Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”
“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble.
“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”
When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no.
“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”
“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”
You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly.
“Guess whose bed.”
Silence.
“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”
“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”
“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”
“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”
Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.
“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”
“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.
“No, not you. You are always the exception.”
“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”
Spencer groans.
“You’re killing me.”
“What? What did I do!”
“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”
“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”
But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure. After a pause, he sighs in defeat.
“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”
“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?” you frown.
“Tell me what this is.”
“I—I don’t know what you mean.”
Lying to a profiler is usually pointless.
“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”
Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up.
“I don’t know. I miss you.”
He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones. It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic.
“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”
“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”
“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”
Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…
“I’m not taking anything out on you.”
“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”
Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand.
“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket.
“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”
“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter.
“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”
“I—”
“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”
The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges.
“What… what thoughts?”
“None that you need to concern yourself with.”
“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it.
“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it.
“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”
“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”
“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”
“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer.
Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—
“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”
“Take a wild guess.”
“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”
You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing.
“What are you doing with a box of condoms?”
He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you.
“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”
“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”
“You wanted them to be for you, huh?”
You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that.
“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”
It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before.
“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft.
“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”
“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”
You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest.
“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”
The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows.
“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”
“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”
“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”
“Do we have to?”
The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts.
“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”
“But you’re… you’re good, right?”
Thankfully he picks up on your meaning.
“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”
“And I’m good. So...”
“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”
You groan in frustration.
“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”
“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”
“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”
The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous.
“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”
“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”
“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”
You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them.
“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.
“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”
“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”
He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit.
“You want me to come inside you?”
“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice.
—
On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making.
“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”
“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now.
“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”
You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—
“’M not.”
Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that.
“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”
You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers.
“Where are you touching?”
“Um—over my clothes.”
Cute.
“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”
It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”
He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base.
“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”
Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut.
“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock.
“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”
“I am ready��” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”
“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.”
He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk.
“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”
“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”
The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump.
“Did you find it?”
“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”
“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”
“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”
He gets the general sentiment.
“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”
“Mhm!”
“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”
“Yes,” you cry.
“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”
“Spencer!”
He knows.
“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”
The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist.
“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”
“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”
“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”
He’s barely kidding.
“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease.
“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”
You laugh. He blushes even more.
“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”
“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”
“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”
“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”
The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone.
“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”
“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide.
Or if it was something else. It could also be something else.
For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you.
—
A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here.
You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?
“Spencer?” you murmur.
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength.
“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?”
Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink.
“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”
“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”
“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”
Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous.
“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”
Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue.
“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”
“But…?”
Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared.
“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”
The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out.
“You regret your first time?”
Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does.
“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”
Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash.
Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins.
What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same.
You want to scream bloody murder.
But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”
Maybe that’s worse.
Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence.
“I didn’t realize you…”
I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back.
I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me.
I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later.
If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was.
“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help.
More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does.
“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”
Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?
What does one even wear to a breakup date?
“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound.
Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more.
“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”
“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right.
“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.
So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here.
“Goodnight.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid fic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fic
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Persona
jihyo x gn reader
fluff, very unserious, suggestive (kinda), not proofread
wannabe player jihyo
You know it’s not the smartest idea, but it feels like it’s the only option to shake things up.
Nayeon’s been urging you all evening, saying, "Just get on a dating app, y/n. It’s easier to find someone who wants to hook up on there. And better yet, with no strings attached since you’re so allergic to falling in love and settling down."
You huffed and rolled your eyes. No need for her to be so… brutally honest. And so caved in. You downloaded the app and started scrolling through it. You swiped on pretty faces, ignoring those seeking long-term relationships, until one profile grabbed your attention.
Despite its douchy and fuckboy-ish vibe, you couldn’t help but be drawn to this person’s profile.
Jihyo.
Her photos showcased her with well-defined abs glistening under gym lights, another captured her in full hockey gear, while another showed her casually sporting a backward cap, adding a touch of laid-back douchiness.
Let’s not talk about her bio, which ew by the way… You cringed as you read it,
6’1 when I stand on my money.
ps: my couch pulls out, but I don’t when I’m strapped up👅💦
You gag at this but still swipe right. It’s clear she’s looking for the same casual fun as you are. And as expected, you both match, confirming your mutual interest in a no-strings-attached connection.
You begin texting Jihyo, and the conversations quickly become flirty, bordering on explicit. This back-and-forth continues for a week until Jihyo takes the initiative to set up a date to meet in person.
She suggests grabbing a quick bite at a fast food joint near her place. You find the idea crass and somewhat unappealing; after all, why bother with a lame meal when you could just head straight to her place for some action?
Nonetheless, you agree. Jihyo manages to sway you with another teasing message: “You’ll need energy if you wanna keep up with me, angel ;)”
The day arrives, and despite knowing it’s just a one-time thing, you find yourself oddly excited. You debate whether it’s worth dressing up for the occasion, knowing you’ll likely never see her again after tonight, but you make the effort anyway.
As you commute to the shitty fast food joint, a text from Jihyo pops up: “hey! I’m already here. I’m gonna be waiting for you at the bus stop, no rush :)”
You frown at first, but then a small smile creeps onto your face. It’s strange to receive such a normal and sweet text from her.
You feel a flutter in your stomach, but you quickly dismiss it. This is just a one-time thing, you remind yourself, as you gather your things to to hop off the bus.
Stepping onto the sidewalk, you glance around, expecting to spot Jihyo. However, she’s nowhere in sight until you hear your name being called. You look past the man who was hiding Jihyo, and as she steps forward, you realize she’s even shorter than you had imagined.
"I hope the ride here wasn’t too bad. Ready to eat?" She smiles wide, and you can't help but notice how much cuter she is in person than you had imagined.
You nod, following her into the restaurant. She walks with a pep in her step, and you can't help but admire how cute she looks in her baggy jeans, oversized shirt, and that damn backward hat. It's nothing like the pictures she had on her profile.
A cutie.
She orders and pays for both of you, and you can't help but slip out, "You must be really rich then."
She frowns, her lower lip popping out in a pout. "I mean-" she starts to explain, but you cut her off, "your bio. 6'1 when I stand on my money, remember?" You tease, then casually munch on your fries.
Her eyebrows arch in surprise, and a blush tinges her cheeks. "Gosh, I forgot about that. I’m sorry, it’s-"
"You’re cute."
Her blush deepens, and she adjusts her hat, offering you a shy smile.
As the conversation flows, you find yourself enjoying Jihyo’s company more than you expected. Her easygoing nature and genuine laughter put you at ease, and you start to forget about the initial awkwardness of the situation.
You notice her little quirks—the way she looks incredibly angry when she takes a delicious bite of her hamburger, that big smile that makes her eyes almost disappear, the way she gives you her full attention when you speak… It’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the flutter in your stomach.
She then offers you to come over for some dessert, and you can't say no. After all, this is what you originally came for anyway.
The walk to her place is short, and when you arrive, you brace yourself for the typical "fuckboy" house—a mess, dishes piled in the sink, and a less-than-ideal bathroom. However, when she welcomes you inside, you're taken aback. The place is pristine and beautifully decorated. You start to wonder if her dating profile was all just a facade.
You prepare yourself for the "dessert" as she instruct you to get comfortable. Taking a seat on the couch, you anticipate what's to come, but to your surprise, she returns with a tray to the coffee table in the center of the living room. The tray has an array of treats—brownies, cookies, and mochi—and hold up, are they homemade too!?
"I’ve made them for you! For tonight! Have a taste!" She says with pride, her smile wide and chest puffed out.
You take a cookie and bite into it, moaning at the delicious taste. It's so good that you kind of want to murder her for being such a good baker, but also for messing up your flow.
You guys should’ve been in bed by now.
She flops beside you, still smiling. “It’s so good,” you remark, savouring the last bite of the cookie.
“Yeah? I’m glad you like it, wasn’t sure what you were gonna be into,” she says, her eyes fixed on you.
As you meet her gaze, you sink further into the cozy couch. She removes her hat, allowing her curls to cascade, and you're taken aback by her beauty.
She runs her fingers through her hair before settling in, her arm draped over the back of the couch, hand supporting her chin. She continues to watch you, and you feel your cheeks flush under her gaze.
"I don’t think I’ve had the chance to tell you how beautiful you are, y/n," Jihyo says softly, her eyes scanning your face.
She bites the inside of her cheek and briefly lets her eyes drift down to take you all in. You smile shyly, noticing the subtle shift in her demeanor. Perhaps the "fuckboy" from her profile is finally making an appearance now.
Your hands sink into her sofa, and you hum, "This isn’t a pull out couch."
Jihyo’s eyes linger on yours, a teasing glint dancing in them.
"Never owned a pull out couch," she responds, her tone low and suggestive, "but I do have the strap."
You roll your eyes, but the shiver that runs down your spine betrays your true feelings. She smiles softly again, her gaze locked with yours as you edge closer to her.
"You're too crude, Jihyo. It’s not charming," you tease, allowing your fingers to trace a pattern along her arm, the tension between you growing.
"I may be crude, but hey, having a pretty person right beside me makes up for it, don't you think?" she whispers, edging closer. Her breath grazes your lips, igniting a surge of excitement within you.
And then, with a delicate touch, her lips meet yours in a tender, lingering kiss. The sensation is electric, your body melting into the moment as you get lost in the softness of her lips against yours.
A shared breath and she gives another kiss, deeper than the last. Her lips press against yours with a newfound urgency. You feel the softness of her touch as her hands slide to the back of your neck, gently pulling you closer.
A soft moan escapes your lips in response to the sensation, and she pulls back, breathless, her eyes locking with yours as the intensity of the moment hangs in the air.
“Y/n,” she starts, her voice gentle as she takes a deep breath to steady herself, “I know we’re both into the one-night stand thing, but I think I like you more than I should. And I know you should’ve been on your third orgasm by now, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to sleep with you unless we go on, at least, two proper dates.”
You stare at her, surprised by her honesty. The air between you is charged with tension as you process her words. Despite the initial intentions of this encounter, you can’t deny the flutter of excitement in your chest at the thought of spending more time with her.
Taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you reach out and gently cup her cheek, brushing your thumb against her skin. “Jihyo,” you say softly, “I feel the same way. I’d like that.”
A smile spreads across her face, relief evident in her eyes. “Really?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Really,” you confirm, leaning in to place a tender kiss on her lips. It’s a promise of what’s to come—a beginning rather than an end.
A relieved sigh escapes her lips as she leans back against the couch, holding your hand tightly.
“Let’s watch TV and finish the sweets?” she proposes, her voice tinged with shyness.
You smile warmly at her, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “Sounds perfect,” you say, feeling a rush of affection for her. “But I need the backstory behind that insane dating profile of yours.”
Jihyo chuckles, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “Oh, that,” she says, running a hand through her hair. “Well, you see, I had a phase where I was tired of all the boring conversations on dating apps. So, I decided to spice things up a bit and I may have gone a little overboard with the whole ‘fuckboy’ persona.”
You giggle, intrigued by her. “It definitely caught my attention,” you admit.
She smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, well, I may have exaggerated a bit,” she confesses. “But hey, it worked, didn’t it?”
“Definitely,” you agree, squeezing her hand affectionately. “But I’m glad to see the real you now.”
With a warm smile, Jihyo leans in closer, her eyes sparkling with sincerity. “Me too,” she whispers, before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.
"However, I do give the best strap. No one can beat me to that and I mean it when I say I don’t pull out and-"
"Ew, you’re crude Jihyo!" you exclaim, playfully scolding her with a mock grimace.
Jihyo lets out a hearty laugh, her eyes crinkling with amusement. "Hey, just keeping it real, sweetheart."
You may not be allergic to falling in love after all.
#twice x reader#twice imagines#kpop imagines#gg x reader#twice scenarios#gg imagines#twice smut#jihyo x reader
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From Talking Heads’ Uncut Cover Story:
Expanded edition of TH:77 to come including early recordings, live tapes at CBGBs, radio station recordings. All 8 albums will receive an extended release
The band’s full archive is being digitised so it’s publicly available for the benefit of up and coming artists. Includes outtakes and rehearsals. Archive will be hosted by Columbia University
Psycho Killer’s French verse was originally going to be Japanese but this fell through once DB’s contact found out the song’s name
No Compassion was about a relationship of DB’s turning sour on his part
Warning Sign was inspired by The Velvet Underground and the drum section for The Beatles’ Tomorrow Never Knows. The song is about laying in bed with a girl on too many drugs
Memories Can’t Wait originated from DB and CF attempting to cover Led Zeppelin’s Communication Breakdown during The Artistic’s era. Song is about being overwhelmed at parties / by memories / by immediate surroundings
Houses in Motion introduced DB to CAN, who were recommended to him based on the record
The Great Curve - DB and JH recruitment tactics involved cornering Adrian Belew in a stairwell and pinging off walls
The Lady Don’t Mind was a True Stories outtake, JH mentions this was the case for multiple tracks on Little Creatures - he doesn’t go into any further detail but if you search True Creatures Demos on YouTube this could be what’s being remastered
Little Creatures was their best-selling album even though they never toured it. Instead they gave MTV 4 music videos to keep them on tv for a year while DB focused on directing True Stories
Radio Head - Tito Larriva met the band Radiohead but they ignored him when he blurted out from an elevator that he sang the original song
RE: The Top 30 -
DB picks:
New Feeling
Memories Can’t Wait
Houses in Motion
And She Was
Cool Water
JH picks:
Take Me to the River
Heaven
This Must Be the Place
Girlfriend is Better
The Lady Don’t Mind
Democratic Circus
CF picks:
Psycho Killer
Warning Sign
Life During Wartime
Once in a Lifetime
Crosseyed and Painless
Puzzlin Evidence
TW picks:
No Compassion
Found a Job
I Zimbra
Wild Wild Life
Others picked:
Love (Building on Fire)
Thank You For Sending Me An Angel
Born Under Punches
Burning Down the House
Road to Nowhere
Radio Head
Blind
Nothing But Flowers
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I'll stop posting wips eventually but it's been five days since I've said anything and I don't want anyone to think I'm dead/dying/stuck in a ditch and withering away, so here's 10% of the reason I disappeared (the duck is stuck in rendering hell) (and my little baby laptop is screaming at me every time I open up this file)
I might still be mostly lurking for a little bit so please be patient with me in the meantime 🙏🙏
#seriously though I'm sorry for just up and disappearing like that#wanna talk to people and interact with them so bad lately but I just can't bring myself to do it#so the best i can manage is blabbing in the tags like always#i don't know wtf is going on but over the past few days I've just felt like i don't deserve to talk to anyone#tried to reblog posts from mutuals several times but something in my head keeps saying;#'yeah they don't actually care for your input at all and you're being a bother for even trying etc etc'#and i know deep down that's probably not true (i hope) but i can't reason it away you know#and i know the best solution to this is to just talk to someone#let it be known that i *did* make an attempt to#i tried texting someone (and succeeded) but i couldn't keep doing it and I'm back at square one (and now feel worse lmao)#i'm not really putting this here for anybody to see it as much as i am for myself#but i know that (hypothetically) this could be seen by a real human so it still kinda feels like I'm reaching out in a way which feels nice#makes me feel less like I'm shriveling up in my own self imposed solitude#so uh hello person who might be reading the tags (there's six of you guys here now which is crazy cause i post nothing but junk here lol)#((but thanks anyway for following and even more thanks for reading this if you did))#i'll make my way around all the posts i missed soon enough don't worry#i'm sorry i'm really not meaning to ignore anybody#i have drafted quite a few posts from moots that i couldn't finish leaving comments on but i have seen them#everyone here is super cool and talented as always <3 whether that be through art or writing or just finding neat posts to share#this wall of text is long enough and i'm very eeby so thank you again for reading this#tldr; not dead and i'll be okay eventually :)#not rb#hey look i didn't post a picture of my dog this time (a crime)#i'll make sure to share one the next time i get a good one
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being so insane gay n aro but it’s only relevant to people i know in real life but there is still a Limit to what i can talk abt it’s killing me
#sorry got back to school and lost half of my inhibitions ig#as in like. literal hang ups#admitted to my roommate the crushes i was planning on taking to the grave when it came to our mutual friends yesterday#had someone over today.#and am once again losing my mind abt how hot everyone in this show is + having my year long ongoing crises about friendship n relationships#this show is inherently sexy ahd this is simply unfair#did not get my little gay wish re casting but that’s okay i’ll survive we’#*we’ll see if i have a crush on a straight boy by the end of the show instead#look that scene is a little . it’s very umm#see when one of the straight boys says faggot it feels like a hate crime bc he is the funniest person to have to say that given he sucks#when **** says faggot it’s#well i feel very normal let’s say that#literally one of my favorite monologues in maybe anything and he is a VERY talented actor#ANYWAY! i have such a little drama playing out in my head i am literally in such a weird place emotionally sorryyy#ted talks
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Bathtime w/ Fuckbuddy Satoru Gojo <3
contains: fem reader, reader is a teacher at Jujutsu High, clit play, mutual pining, teasing, so much dirty talk, possessive!Satoru if u squint
MDNI
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ
"Ahhhh...." You moaned quietly into the small space of your bathroom as the soreness from your limbs was washed away by the borderline scolding hot water that swallowed up your body. The bubbles tickled your chin as you sunk deeper, letting the water cover your body up to your neck so you appeared to be a head floating in the bath.
Gojo had been out on a mission, which meant you were in charge of teaching his students and overseeing their sparing. Only you had to get hands-on with them several times and ended up moving your body in ways you haven't moved since you were in high school.
You were a sorcerer and you trained frequently, but in the weeks before training his students, curses had been quiet, which meant fewer missions and less moving your body. So you stayed inside most days to complete paperwork, ignoring the training you should've been doing to stay agile and keep your bones loose during the dry spell of curse appearances--and boy did it show.
Not in your performance, but in your bones. You felt your muscles straining and burning when you pulled off some showy move for the students as you avoided one of their hits. The day felt like it was dragging on forever, and each time one of his precious students asked if you would spar with them, you accepted because your ego was too big to decline because of a little soreness.
You had plenty of time to regret it afterwards though as you lay on your floor and stretched your body, cursing at Gojo over the phone for having such energetic students. He laughed and apologized, though he didnt seem very sorry to hear you groaning and moaning in pain through the phone. All of your moans sounded the same to him, pervert. Although he did promise to make it up to you when he came home from his mission in a few days, so you let him off the hook.
Though you were irritated, as you shut your eyes and let the Epsom salt soak into your tired body, letting the hot water creep into your skin, you couldn't find yourself to be all that mad. This felt so good, you hadn't relaxed like this in a while. You silently prayed to someone that the dry spell of curse sightings would keep up so you could relax like this more often, even though you knew that was wishful thinking.
You let the hot water wash all of the thoughts from your head, and it must've taken some of your consciousness with it because you failed to hear the dull bang of your front door opening, followed by footsteps that got closer and closer to the outside of your bathroom door. Your entire body jolted forward when you snapped back into reality fully at the sound of the bathroom door creaking open.
The adrenaline and fear from your fight or flight response didnt last long when the familiar feeling of Gojo's cursed energy flooded into your body, relaxing you almost instantly. "Oh? Did I scare you?" Gojo giggled as he pushed the door open entirely, his long frame leaning against the doorway, arms crossed as he watched you from under his blindfold.
The bubbles had covered your chest in a way that almost looked like someone had placed them there on purpose. They came up to just above your nipples, covering the part of you Gojo wanted to see most. The rest of the suds stuck to the skin of your breasts, slowly slipping downwards at a snail's pace. If you kept your body sitting up like you were for long enough, the bubbles would surely run off your tits and reveal your pretty nipples to Gojo's eyes.
The water still sloshed around your body from your sudden movements before you sighed and leaned back against the tub, letting the water absorb you into it once more. "Fuck, Satoru... what are you doing here? I thought you were going to be gone for another week?" You asked, trying to keep the longing out of your tone as you spoke to him, not wanting him to know you missed him as much as you did, his ego didn't need that.
"Aww did someone miss me?" Gojo asked, tilting his head at you. "I missed you too, that's why I used you as motivation to exercise that curse as quickly as possible so I could come to you~" The teasing and playfulness in his voice both irritated and aroused you. You scoffed, turning your head away from him to stare at the very interesting blank wall of the shower as you felt a blush creep onto your face.
"Get in and close the door or leave, you're letting all the hot air out." You bit, ignoring his teasing words as you felt goosebumps tickle your arms from under your skin. "Ohhh~ Is that an invitation?" Gojo cooed, uncrossing his arms as he kicked the door shut behind him, a large hand reaching behind his head to pull off his blindfold, his beautiful blue eyes being revealed from underneath.
You kept your face unreadable as you looked back at Gojo, your greedy eyes taking in the way his arms bulged as the jacket slid off his arms, falling to the floor. It must've been hot where he was sent on the mission because instead of the signature white long-sleeve button-up shirt he usually wore under his jacket, his body was adorned in a tight black muscle shirt. One that made your mouth water with how little it left to the imagination.
"Hey, my eyes are up here. You're making me embarrassed, y'know~" Gojo whined, faux pouting as he crossed his arms over his body and pulled up the bottom of his shirt before slowly sliding it up his body, giving you a show as each row of his insanely defined abs was revealed to you. Satoru grinned at you when he pulled the shirt over his head, his hair looking ruffled and fluffy from his head being squeezed through such a tight opening. Cute.
"Don't say that like you don't stare at me shamelessly when I take off my clothes in front of you." You retort, feeling your body start to react to the show he was putting on for you. "I can't help it, you get so squirmy when I watch you, it's adorable," Gojo responded, his hands making quick work of his belt as he kept his piercing eyes on yours while he did so.
Your lip curled up slightly in embarrassment at his words. How was he able to just say stuff like that? "You touchin' yourself under there?" Gojo asked, his voice keeping the teasing tone but with the addition of something deeper now. Your jaw dropped as you stared at him incredulously, a blush spreading across your face. "Y-you-" Briefly looking down you noticed the bulge that had already formed in his pants.
He could see nothing but your head floating atop the bubbles, how was he already hard? "You have such a dirty mouth Satoru." You responded, shaking your head at him. He giggled as he finally pulled his pants and boxers off his heels, his hard cock standing at full attention, the delicious curve made it point up towards his belly. You did your best to avert your eyes, looking back at the blank wall of the shower as he got closer.
"Heh~ You're so easy to tease." He teased. "Scoot forward, make some room for me, princess." Your heart was beating out of your chest. It had only been a week and a half since Gojo had left on his mission, but your body had missed him so badly. Not a second went by that you didnt crave Satoru's presence in some way, so now that he was actually here after ten days of pining, your body didn't know what to do with all the feelings you were experiencing.
Wordlessly, you leaned forward and allowed Gojo to slide into the bath behind you. He hissed when he stuck his first foot in the bath behind your body. "Are you a masochist?? Why is the water so hot??" Gojo complained, hissing and whining under his breath after each inch of skin he sunk into the water.
His childishness eased some of the tension and embarrassment you were feeling. You smiled to yourself as he situated himself deeper into the bath, his thighs spreading around your body. "Your students pushed me to my limits, I don't think there's a muscle in my body that isn't sore." You sighed. Gojo hummed in awknowledgement as he wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you back agaisnt him, your back flush to his chest--which felt so much wider than you remember.
You tried to ignore the very prominent feeling of Gojo's hard cock poking your lower back as you relaxed against him, your eyes taking in his usual porcelain skin turning red on the tops of his knees as they poked out from under the water, burned from the heat of the water. "Is your body more sensitive to heat because of your infinity? Or are you just a bitch?" You asked, staring blankly at the shower wall in front of you.
Gojo tsked at your words, his arms squeezing tighter around your body. "You could've said that last part nicer. I'm sensitive." He replied, pouting as he placed his chin on your head, staring at the same wall you were. You laughed softly, relaxing even further against him "I've always been sensitive to extreme temperatures, but I think anyone besides you would agree with me when I say this bath is just too hot."
You stayed quiet for a few seconds before you spoke again, "I think you're just a bitch." You said teasingly, smiling to yourself. Gojo pulled his head back from resting on the top of your head and looked down at your smaller frame against his as he pouted. He quickly got distracted though, forgetting your words as his eyes traced over the slope of your shoulders, the curve of your neck, and the valley between your breasts, glistening from the water.
Satoru licked his lips when an idea suddenly popped into his head. Releasing the hold he had on your body, he placed one of his hands right under your tit, the other slowly sliding down the front of your body. On instinct, you looked down, as if you could see his hands working on your body under the water. His large hand acted like it creating a path to your cunt, but right when he got to your pelvis, he changed direction and rubbed his hand down your thigh before sliding it back up, repeating that action.
"You're so mean to me sometimes..." He pouted, the hand he had holding your body against him slipping up to cup your breast, his large hand practically engulfing the entire thing as he slowly massaged it. "Satoru..." You whispered, your head pressing back against his chest. "I'm nothing but nice to you, y'know?" He continued, his hand alternating between pinching your nipple with his fingers and rubbing your entire tit in his palm.
You sighed as he touched you, your body melting under his touch. "But even though you're a bully..." Satoru's hand slid back up to your pelvis, he rubbed the area of skin right above your clit with his fingers, pressing down against the skin slowly, the same as he did when he fucked you and was trying to feel himself thrust inside you. You didn't even realize that your legs were spreading on instinct, making room for him to touch you.
You gasped quietly as you waited for him to touch you. The throbbing between your thighs was now pulsing rapidly with your need for relief the longer he teased you. "...I still want to make you feel good." He finished, his fingers releasing the pressure on your pelvis as they slid down to your pussy, his fingers finding your clit with ease as he started rubbing slow, teasing circles against it.
"Does that make me a pushover?" He whispered hotly against your ear as you gasped in a breath at the sudden striking pleasure. "Fuck-" You gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as he played with your little clit expertly, his other hand rubbing his index finger in circles around your areola, much the same pace as the one on your clit. "Hm? Does it baby?" Gojo asked, his greedy mouth sucking the shell of your ear into his mouth, his tongue teasing it as his lips suctioned around it, the sensation sending goosebumps down your body.
"I-I don't know." You whined, your brain not even registering what he was saying to you as he pleasured your body. He truly knew your body like the back of his hand, he knew each and every spot that had you whining and crying for him. "You don't know?" He repeated, leaving hot kisses against your ear as he sped up the circles on your clit, adding slightly more pressure at the same time.
"You aren't listening huh? That's so mean princess. I'm going out of my way to make you feel good even after you've bullied me, and you can't even listen to me?" He cooed, making his voice higher as he teased you. His index finger and thumb pinched around the hard bud of your nipple as he rolled it between his fingers. You squirmed against his body, your legs jerking every so often causing the water to slosh around you.
Your hand gripped Gojo's wrist which was working vehemently on your pussy, making jolts of electricity shock through your body. "S-Satoru... satoru that feels good." You whined, your hair tickling his skin as your head rubbed on his chest. Gojo smiled, switching his hand to massage your other breast. "You can't think of anything other than how good you feel, huh?" He asked, kissing the spot right behind your ear.
His cock was twitching against your back after each whine and moan you released. He was so grateful you were pressed so tightly against him, your squirming giving his cock significant release as your lower back rubbed all over him. "M-mhmm-" You responded, pressing your lips together as you opened your legs wider for him.
Gojo pressed kisses all over your neck and ear as he continued rubbing his fingers over your sensitive little bud, working you higher and higher toward your orgasm. "You're so soft. I missed you against me like this. I love holding you." Gojo whispered, his words too intimate for a fuckbudy to say, making you blush with embarrassment. "M-missed you too." You respond honestly, putting your pride aside. "You make me feel so good Satoru.." you praised, your words going straight to his cock.
"Yeah? I touch you so much better than you touch yourself huh?" He asked, his fingers quickening with his own excitement. "Y-yeah." You whine the word dragging out from between your lips. "I'm the only one who makes you feel this good, huh?" Satoru whispered, practically whining into your ear as he rutted his hips against your back.
You groaned in response, feeling yourself almost about to tip over the edge. His hand on your tit massaged harder as he humped against you faster, the water sloshing around your body, spilling onto the floor. "Say it baby, need you to say it," Gojo begged, increasing the pressure on your clit, making your legs jerk together, trying to close around his hand when you felt the hot coil of your release wind up impossibly tighter.
"O-only you Satoru only you. F-fuck fuck I'm cumming-" Your smaller hand tightens around his wrist as you hold onto him for dear life as your orgasm wracks through your body. Satoru chases you, keeping your body pressed to his when you jerk forward, your body trying to fold in on itself when the intensity of your high. "Oh good fucking girl, take it, baby, that's it, cum for me." Gojo groaned against your ear, his hand squeezing your tit as wave after wave of your orgasm washed over you.
Satoru's cock dripped pre-cum into the water when you came, his own arousal increasing tenfold as he watched you cum. You relaxed back against his chest when you came down from your high, your head falling limply on his chest as you gasped softly, trying to recover from such an intense orgasm. "That looked like it felt so good baby, good job." He praised, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
Your face was flushed red with your arousal as you closed your eyes when you felt his lips touch you. "Thank you, Satoru. I really needed that." You said, rubbing your thumb on his wrist that had started caressing the spot where your thigh and hip meet. He hummed, kissing your head once more as he acknowledged your words, the hand on your tit still slowly massaging it in circles.
"Would you look at that..." Satoru spoke, making you turn your head to look up at him, wondering what he was looking at. He smirked down at you when he got a view of your face, his eyes making contact with your own. "The water is still hot." His smirk grew when you tsked and looked away from him, the white-haired man bursting into a fit of giggles as he wrapped his arms around your body.
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regina’s puppy (2)
// regina has a soft spot for you, but when she refuses to accept why, someone else might swoop in and take your attention away from her. //
warnings: mean!regina (not to reader), slightly jealous!regina, oblivious!reader, mutual pining, annoying boys, regina being soft for reader, talks of sexuality
(this is part 2 to the series, read part 1 here)
when you walked into the cafeteria the next day, you were already fed up with the way people were acting today. ever since you got to school this morning, you were receiving various stares and hushed whispers. it caused an ugly feeling of insecurity to follow you around all morning until lunch. your eyes scan the cafeteria for the blonde, and you see her standing in line. your eyes brighten at the sight of her, and you begin to make your way to her.
“hey gina.” you greet her happily. as soon as she hears your eager voice, her eyes tear away from the person she was talking to, just to look at you. you’re wearing a baby pink long sleeved fitted top, and a pair of dark denim high waisted bellbottoms that regina exclusively picked out for you. her eyes trail up and down your body, before her lips tug into a smirk. you look so different than your usual shy, covered up self. regina’s always thought you were pretty. it was adorable how you could wear baggy jeans and oversized sweaters, along with worn out shoes, and you’d still look cute. but right now, regina thought you were—
“you look so hot.” she blurts out, and one of the jocks that’s standing nearby chimes in.
“hey, y/n, did you do something different with your hair?” he asks from a few feet away, and regina refrains from telling the blockhead to go fuck himself, but she’s curious to see how you’re going to react to the newly found attention. “yeah, i tried a new serum called, “fuck off”.” you snap, frustrated with the unwanted attention you’ve been receiving today. regina’s lips twitch and she can’t hold back the maniacal grin plastering itself onto her face. your eyes widen in regret/horror before you clasp a hand over your mouth. you get this adorably sheepish expression on your face that you flash regina; “i’m sorry, that was so mean. but you’d think i’d have a sign on my head that said “bother me” with how much people have been talking to me today.” you retort, sounding agitated.
“get used to it, y/n. they didn’t realize underneath all those hoodies, there was a girl.” she states, as she takes a tray of food, and waits for you to get yours. you snort at her comment, “that’s exactly why i wore them. they’re like an invisibility cloak.” your statement makes her genuinely laugh, and the sound never ceases to make your stomach flip. you don’t even mind the way people are whispering as they glance in your direction.
you sit right beside regina; trying to ignore the nerves bubbling in your belly. when gretchen and karen approach the table, the brunette eyes you uncertainly. “um… why are you here?” gretchen asks, and you open your mouth to respond, but regina is speaking for you. “y/n is sitting with us from now on.” regina says curtly, her tone stringent and up for no debates. “what!? but she— she didn’t take any of the tests! she doesn’t know any of the rules!! she barely has a social status!” gretchen nearly squeals, while karen offers you a smile. “i really like your top! i saw that at hollister! can i borrow it some time?” the raven haired girl asks, ignoring her best friends freak out.
regina glowers at gretchen, “you were barely anything before me, so you have no say in anything that goes on at this table.” she hisses, causing gretchen to snap her mouth shut. regina’s mood switches quickly, a content smile etching onto her face, “now that that’s settled, karen, why don’t you fill y/n in on our rules.” the blonde requests, and karen nods obediently. “rules?” you inquire carefully, and karen nods again. “yup! we have rules we have to follow in order to sit here. rule number one, don’t wear tank tops two days in a row...” she starts, and you nod as you begin to listen to the strange yet, iconic rules.
you nod along, mentally taking down each one. once karen is finished, your gaze flickers towards regina. “so for the tank top rule, do i have to wear a tank top at least once a week, or is that optional?” you ask, genuinely curious. regina lets out this uncontainable giggle that gretchen and karen had never heard from the blonde. “you don’t have to wear a tank top at all silly, but if you do, don’t wear one two days in a row.” she informs you, and you nod. “what are the tests i have to take to sit here?” you question, remembering what gretchen said earlier. regina shakes her head, “those won’t be necessary. you’ve proven your worth to me already.” she says simply, as she takes a sip of her energy drink.
gretchen gawks at the blonde; her mouth agape. she couldn’t figure out for the life of her, why regina was letting you of all people get away with this. “try this, it’s peach.” the queen bee waves her drink at you, and you take it, sipping a bit. your nose scrunches up in disgust, “ew.” you murmur, and she flashes you a pointed look before snatching the drink back. “what is that?” you question, and she flashes the can at you. “peach-nectarine redbull.” she responds, and you make a face of dissatisfaction.
“what? they’re good! aren’t they, karen?” regina asks, gesturing to the blueberry redbull beside karen’s tray of food. karen nods in agreement, “yup, regina’s fridge is full of them.” the raven haired girl chimes in, and you offer the blonde a look of dismay, “those things are heart attacks in a can, gina.” you scold her. “you shouldn’t drink them so much.” you add, and regina rolls her eyes dismissively, but her heart leaps due to your obvious concern for her wellbeing. “i don’t think i’m gonna have to worry about a heart attack till i’m like forty, y/n, relax. i need these to get through the day.” she says, and you frown.
when the bell rings, you and regina leave the cafeteria together. before you can walk away towards your next class, regina wraps a firm hand around your wrist. “did stacy agree to let you be part of the team?” she asks, and you nod. “yeah, she talked to me this morning. but i don’t think i wanna be a part of her club anymore.” you admit, and regina glowers, “why not? i swear to god if she said something else—“ regina nearly growls, but you cut her off before she can threaten stacy’s life again. “no! don’t worry, gina she didn’t say anything bad.” you promise her, causing her to search your face for any signs of dishonesty.
you don’t tell regina the only reason you no longer have an interest in debate club, is because you’d rather hang out with her after school instead. she shoots you that infamous grin that causes the butterflies in your stomach to repopulate rapidly. “well, i guess that means you can hang out with us after school now. we’re going to karen’s house today, so meet me at my locker after your last class.” regina’s request is more like a command, but you aren’t complaining.
you nod dumbly, as she walks away from you, and your eyes are glued on her the entire time. regina looks over her shoulder, catching your entranced gaze on her. it causes a fire to ignite in the pit of her stomach. she turns away, turning down the hallway and disappearing. your cheeks feel as though they’re burning, and the bell rings, indicating that you’re late for class. you shake your head, trying to push away your regina-induced thoughts before you rush to class.
throughout the rest of the school day, more boys try to talk to you. you’ve never really came out or thought twice about your sexuality; you’ve always known you were into girls. you thought it was pretty obvious, but now you were wondering if it wasn’t. “hey y/n!” micheal, one of the boys in your last period catches up to you as you walk towards the exit of the school. your step falters slightly, as he approaches you, holding the exit doors open for you.
“i was just wondering if you had any plans right now?” he asks you, flashing you a shy smile. you stop walking, feeling a bit bad as you get ready to reject him, but he continues rambling. “cause there’s this cool burger place that—” he gets cut off by that familiar voice that causes a wave of heat to surge through you. “come on y/n!” regina causes you to turn your head, there’s aways that stupid little flutter in her stomach whenever she see you. though it turns into boiling hot rage when she sees the way that boy is eyeing you shamelessly. you flash her a smile before turning back to micheal, “sorry, micheal, i have plans with regina today.” you tell him, and his face falls. he looks visibly disappointed. “oh, for sure! have fun! maybe we can hang out tomorrow?” he sounds hopeful, and you open your mouth to reject his offer again, but this time regina is intervening.
“she’s not going to be available tomorrow because she’ll be hanging out with me. again. and same answer for the day after tomorrow.” regina’s voice is harsh, and enough to make a grown man cower away. micheal looks ostensibly upset, but everyone knows better than to talk back to regina george. “come on, regina, i was just trying to ask her out—” he tries, but she cuts him off. “well don’t.” she hisses, shooting daggers at him with her eyes. “look at her, and look at you. you’re like an off brand tony hawk. y/n wouldn’t go for you even if you were the last person on earth.” she cruelly says with a sneer.
“now, come on, y/n. karen’s mom always makes the best lemon squares. you’re gonna love them.” she places her hands on your upper arms; fingernails digging into the fabric of your shirt. her grip is firm but not enough to hurt. she leads you away from micheal, and you feel a surge of guilt, but also an unknown heat pooling at the bottom of your abdomen from how upset regina was about micheal. her grip on you tightens, “ugh, he seriously thought he had a chance with you. you can do better than some lame guy on the soccer team.” she rants, as she leads you towards her jeep where karen and gretchen are waiting.
“he’s in my english class. he’s always sat next to me.” you confess, and regina stops in her tracks, taking her hands off you, causing you to stop as well. you look at regina, who has her arms crossed, “well, starting tomorrow you aren’t sitting by him anymore.” she states, her tone signifying that she’s up for no disagreements. “unless you like him.” she adds, sounding borderline unrecognizable. you scoff, “you think i’d like him? i’m actually kind of insulted you think he’s my type.” you respond, and regina feels a strange sensation of relief. she doesn’t understand why the thought of you dating some sleazy guy around here made her blood boil.
regina offers you a satisfied smile, as if she wasn’t just upset a second ago. her shift in emotions is a bit concerning, but you think it’s adorable how bratty she can be, and then content not even a moment later. but maybe you were biased when it comes to regina george, because you thought everything about her was absolutely adorable. “good. then it’s settled, you’re not sitting next to him, or talking to him anymore.” she declares, and you nod obediently. “okay, gina.” your voice is so innocent and light; you don’t sound the slightest bit upset or reluctant to do as she says. she revels in it.
“good girl. come on, lets go. the girls are waiting for us.” her pleased tone sends this thrill of excitement to course throughout you. those words; “good girl”, they caused your tummy to flutter so much it felt as though it was going to burst. you were a blushing mess as regina pulls you to her car. she notices how flushed your cheeks are, and she smirks. “y/n gets shotgun.” regina says bluntly, and gretchen’s eyes widen in bewilderment. “why does she get shotgun!?” she shrieks, and regina scowls, “because it’s my car, and i said so.” the blonde snaps in response, causing gretchen to pout.
you all get into the car, and just like yesterday, regina hands you her phone. “pick a song.” she orders, and you immediately oblige. gretchen’s jaw drops in offense, “you’re letting her aux!? you never let any of us aux!” she points out, as the queen bee pulls out of the parking lot. “y/n’s taste in music is better than yours.” regina deadpans, as you put on a faye webster song. “i love this song.” karen chimes in, and gretchen huffs. “everyone loves faye webster, karen!” the brunette snaps.
karen’s house isn’t as big as regina’s house, but that isn’t shocking. you think regina might have the biggest house in town, and you aren’t even sure what her father does for work. regina was right about karen’s mother making the best lemon squares though. you shamelessly eat three, and regina is enamored as you make endless conversation with karen’s mom. the older woman finds you just as charming as most of the teachers at school do. regina wonders if they notice how sweet your smile is, or how bright your eyes shine when you talk about something you enjoy.
regina notices everything about you. the way the blood rises to your cheeks whenever she compliments you, or remembers a small detail about you. whenever your hair falls below your shoulders in thoughtless curls; she finds herself thinking about how long it takes you to curl your hair in the mornings. sometimes it’s in a ponytail, or carelessly undone. regina often wonders how someone can look so effortlessly good all the time.
she drops gretchen off at home first in order to spend some time alone with you; she tries not to dwell on why. as soon as the brunette is out of the car, regina’s tough facade is crumbling away. “did you see karen’s dads hair? it’s a toupee.” she reveals, causing your eyes to widen as you burst into a fit of giggles. regina swears her heart nearly stops beating at the marvelous sound. “seriously!?” you ask, clearly shocked, she nods, letting out a few stray laughs. “yeah, one time karen dropped it in the toilet. he grounded her for like two weeks.” she tells you, eliciting even more giggles from you. “poor mr. shetty. he seems so nice. it’s not his fault he’s bald.” you comment earnestly.
regina’s heart swells at how adorable you are, and how you look sitting in the passenger side of her car. she gets so lost in her thoughts about you, that she doesn’t even realize the lights turned green. a loud car horn pulls her out of her ongoing thoughts, causing her to scowl and beep back. “fuck you, bitch, just go around!” regina yells, as she rolls down her window to flip off the old man behind her. you gasp, but can’t seem to contain your uncontrollable laughter.
“you’re so funny, gina.” you breathe out, looking over at her with this expression of adoration, thankfully her eyes are on the road. “i’m so glad that my anger issues amuse you.” she murmurs sardonically, and you release a little chortle. “it’s not my fault you look so cute when you’re angry.” you blurt out, and your entire face changes into a shocked expression as you realize what you just said. regina glances at you, noticing your sheepish expression. she smirks mischievously, “you think i’m cute?” she asks, feigning obliviousness.
you look over at her with a face that says “are you serious?”, and you snort. “you know you’re cute! i mean, you’re regina george. you’re everything.” you say this so easily, it causes her whole world to stop spinning for a while as her inside turn to mush. you don’t even realize the words you say have such an impact on her. the blood rushes to her cheeks, and your eyes nearly widen as regina blushes because of you. “i’ve been called a lot of things before but never “everything”.” she tries to sound nonchalant, and taunting like she always does, but her voice comes out abnormally soft. she doesn’t even recognize herself.
when she turns to get a quick look at you, she sees you’re already staring at her. your eyes hold such a look of admiration as you gaze at her. “i’m just being honest.” you respond, looking away shyly. regina’s heart is in her throat, as if it’s trying crawl its way out of her and into your lap. she tries to focus on driving, but she can’t stop stealing glances at you.
“earlier when you said micheal wasn’t your type, were you just saying that, or were you being honest?” she asks randomly, breaking the short silence. you furrow your brows, “why would i lie about something dumb like that?” you ask in response, and regina shrugs. “so i would shut up about it.” she suggests, and you frown. “i never want you to shut up though. i like hearing you, even when you’re mad.” you reveal truthfully, making her heartbeat stutter. “but i was being serious about micheal not being my type. no guy really is…” you trail off sheepishly.
there’s a sense of satisfaction that comes with knowing regina’s suspicions were correct. you’re into girls, and regina knows you’re into her. she can feel it, and your behavior proves it. “good.” the blonde says, sounding more than pleased as she turns into your neighborhood. regina was right about you; she was definitely going to be able to have as much fun with you as she thought.
a/n: @kate03-27 hope you enjoy!
also, comment if you wanna be tagged in the next part :) thanks for reading <3
#regina george x fem reader#regina george x y/n#regina george x you#regina george x reader angst#regina george mean girls#renee rapp x fem!reader#renee rapp x reader#regina george x reader#regina george x fem!reader#regina george#renee rapp#renee rapp x y/n#mean girls
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📄 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲
Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader
𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.9k
𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Married couple, Unprotected sex, SMUT, kissing, vaginal fingering, brief cum eating, tit sucking, giving Miguel a hand job while he explains the male anatomy 🫡 brief praises, body worship, eventual breeding kink, mentions of contraceptive pills, couple role play(?)
𝐀/𝐍: Is it me or has tumblr updated and it’s harder to use now?? Like I can’t move images like I used to?! Anyways this is inspired by c.ai again as well as one of my old mutuals fic (Salty if you see this, hey bestie!! That Doc fic examining player still lives rent free in my head!) Anyways, enjoy!!
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In an effort to make amends for neglecting Miguel, you dedicate a night to spend quality time together. However, Miguel has other ideas to make the evening unforgettable— using science.
Your joints clicked as you stood up from your work chair. You’ve finally finished your project that you’ve been putting your blood, sweat and tears into and sacrificed your sleeping schedule to complete.
Your body felt stiff and heavy from sitting in one place for so long. The apartment was quiet as expected to be at this late hour, amplifying the creaks of your joints.
You switched off the monitor before you left your office and plodded upstairs to the bedroom with heavy steps and slouching shoulders.
You found Miguel in the bedroom, engrossed in tinkering with his watch with only his sweatpants on and no shirt.
His eyes crinkled up as he sensed your presence. “There she is…”
You didn’t feel like you deserved his acknowledgment, let alone his affection, especially the way you’ve neglected him for your work the past few days.
He didn’t expect you to say anything back but he felt the weight of your solemn expression, “¿Estás bien?
You shake your head mutely in response, guilt washing over you. He stepped closer, closing the distance with a gentle stride. “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”
Your mouth was dry from the lack of fluids you’ve been avoiding, making your voice slightly hoarse “I’m sorry, I’ve been pushing you away.”
He lowered himself and held your chin with his thumb to tilt your head up so you would look at him. The gesture made your heart ache.
“Is that why you’re upset? You know I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always come back to you mi alma,” he murmured.
Even if he did lower himself to be level with you, he still felt bigger. It made you feel protected, the way he towered over you with his large frame.
The holographic lamp illuminated the room, casting a gentle glow. With its subtle lighting you could see the crimson gleam from Miguel’s eyes, which melted the weight of your stress from the past few days and the newfound guilt.
You were glad the main light wasn’t on to flood the room with its sickening bright glow that would scream at you — your eyes needed a rest from the screen and the absence of flood lights gave that comfort you needed.
He leaned in to kiss you and you tiptoed to deepen the kiss. It felt refreshing, feeling his lips again— almost like an anchor that kept you grounded.
You wrapped your arms around his neck while he wrapped his around your waist. His tongue teased your lips before slipping in, tasting you and you let him take his fill of you before pulling away.
“Miguel…” you breathed, hesitant to break the peace in the room.
“How about we shift our focus on a different kind of study.” He suggested. There was a lighthearted undertone in his sentence that you tried to articulate.
You cocked your brow inquisitively until you remembered Miguel’s background in the science field. “Study? As in science?”
“Science is such a broad term. Let’s start with biology and anatomy,”
You heart stuttered in both anticipation and excitement along with your core already throbbing. You could already sense where this was going as soon as you heard anatomy. The atmosphere felt charged guided by the intimate spirit of Miguel’s proposal.
He lifted you up before gently placing you on the bed.
Being a skilled geneticist, Miguel seized every opportunity to share random biology facts, particularly in the most unexpected moments with you.
It was one of the many things you found attractive about him, especially seeing him being so engrossed in explaining things to you in a way you would understand. It made the complexities of biology feel like an intimate and shared journey.
But you’ve never seen him act like this before sex. Perhaps he was trying something new to keep the spark alive.
“How about we remove your clothes.” His hands hiked up beneath your shirt as he spoke.
“Is this part of the biology teaching?” You asked.
“Let’s just say it’s part of the more practical application.” He removed your shirt and your pants, leaving you in your panties and bra. “And you’re the specimen.”
You were amused with where this was going, seeing Miguel’s professional act starting to surface. A scientist eager to teach (and please).
You felt him run his hand over your neck. Spots of goosebumps rose on your skin from the cool air in the room.
“Your skin is so soft…” He murmured into your sensitive skin, making you shiver.
Another advantage of being married to a geneticist was that Miguel knew all the sensitive areas on the body and what made you tick. Even before you did anything together, he was aware of all the areas that could arouse a woman.
His lips grazed over your collarbone, trailing down to where it meets the shoulders.
“The collarbone is connected to your shoulders by the supraclavicular ligament,” he explained softly. He kissed the soft skin around the area.
“Suprac—clavic—ular ligament—” Each syllable accelerated in pitch as you tried to repeat after him.
His hand reached behind your back to unclip your bra before slipping them off, one strap at a time.
Your breasts were now fully exposed and he reached over and cupped one with his large hands.
“The breasts are a collection of organs that play an important role in the reproduction of human females, amor. They are key to producing milk,” He kissed along your chest until he reached the valley between the two breasts.
“They also serve to attract a sexual partner…which seems to be working on us.”
You didn’t expect him to lick the skin where his lips hovered over between your breasts. You shuddered in shock until he pulled away to look up at you again.
“They’re also erogenous zones, making them more sensitive to simulations. Would you like me to demonstrate?” You nodded in response.
You managed to catch the corner of his lips curve up in amusement, even if he made a concerted effort to conceal how turned on he was right now.
He wore the familiar analytical veneer he always carried when he was working in the lab, except this time you could see his excitement babbling beneath the surface.
He dipped his head until his mouth latched onto one of your breasts. Despite knowing this was going to happen, you couldn’t help the surprise whimper that slipped from your mouth.
His tongue lapped over your hardened nipple while his other hand still fondled with your other breast. You groaned out from his touches, running one of your hands over the locks of his hair.
It was flattering, seeing Miguel soaking in everything from you, even when you felt like you had little to offer. Miguel seemed to never get enough of you and to this day, your heart still leaped out of you chest with him around.
He released your nipples and you were met with hooded crimson eyes, dazed and awestrucked. You couldn’t stop your shoulders from bunching together in shyness at him.
He moneuvered you so you were laying your back on the bed. Two broad arms rested besides you on the bed with his abs displayed over you.
“Between the legs are the female reproductive system, we’ll be focusing on the labia minora and the labia majora for this lesson,”
He pulled your panties down, revealing your wetness between your thighs.
A sudden rush of cold air brushed against your folds, making you more wet and exposed. His hand reached over, extending out of your line of sight until his fingers were lightly stroking around the delicate flesh.
“The labia minora is a set of two fleshy folds that form around the inner portion of the labia majora. They are positioned around the vaginal opening to protect the urethra and…”
You gasped when you felt one of his fingers slip into your slick cunt before slowly moving in and out of you.
“…and the vagina.”
His sentence was finished off with the soft sounds of your slick from his fingers along with your breathy moans. Your walls fluttered around his finger while he slipped in another digit in, prompting you to grip onto the sheets tightly.
He moved to your ear and spoke in a lowered tone, his breath brushing against your earlobe. “Do you remember which hormones are released when a person is aroused?”
He rubbed his thumb over your swollen clit while watching you fall apart from his touches. You couldn’t fully process the question in your head, let alone form a coherent response.
“God— Miguel-!” You babbled out.
“Come on amor, I know you know the answer,” he coaxed, having the audacity to continue teasing your cunt with his fingers.
He was going to keep teasing until he got an answer from you. You wouldn’t be surprised if he refused to let you come too until you responded to him with the right answer.
“O-oxytocin and…hm-m…serotonin?” Your words came staggered and breathless. You were fighting the urge to rock your hips further to ride on his finger but you knew better not to push your luck. This was for science after all.
“Such a smart wife. Are you feeling it, amor? The euphoric feeling and the release of the hormones throughout your body?” Miguel was still near your ear as he asked.
You were so drawn into bliss, you almost forgot about the whole biology lesson and the practical demonstration.
You could tell that watching how responsive you were to his touches excited him, especially if it included him talking about what he knew best.
He withdrew his his hands away and curved his finger so none of your slick slipped away. He spread his fingers apart, watching the string of your fluids clinging onto the pads of his fingers.
You felt your face heat up in astonishment, you’ve never seen yourself leak that much before.
You weren’t surprised to see him stick his fingers in his mouth to clean himself up. He ate you out before so this was nothing new to him.
Once he was satisfied, he manoeuvred himself to remove his pants along with his boxers, freeing his aching cock. Despite the low lighting, you could still see it throbbing and the veins lining on the skin.
You sat up enough so you could reach to his cock. You wrapped your hand around his length, earning a low groan from him. “Since we covered the female, do you wanna walk me through the male anatomy now?”
You swiped your thumb over the tip where his pre-cum was leaking from. You were purposefully tormenting him now.
“You’re unbelievable,” he grunted, but you could clearly see he couldn’t stop the grin tugging on his lips.
“Come on Mig, do it for biology,”
You started stroking his length, making sure you touched every part of his skin from the base to the tip.
His breathing became shallow with low whimpers stringing out but he tried to compose himself before he spoke.
“The penis and the testicles both….have a lot of blood flow to them but— hmm.. the main purpose of the testicles is to produce testosterone and—” He couldn’t help the low moan that came out when he felt you increase your pace, but he was still determined to finish.
“Go on…” you prodded.
“…produce testosterone and sperm cells…dios— the penis….the penis is the biggest part of the male anatomy. It allows urination, ejaculation or urine and semen, shit! It also helps the male with erection-!” He finished off the last sentence in one shaky breath. Your hand came to a halt around his tip.
“Thanks for the clarification…” You released his dick swiftly, satisfied by his explanation.
After catching his breath and recomposing himself, Miguel positioned himself so his dick was near your opening. His tip nuzzled against your folds with you silky walls clenching desperately onto nothingness.
You were ready for him, even your clit was throbbing in anticipation, and there was nothing you wanted more than to have him inside you right now.
“Now that we’ve completed the preliminary, I think we should come to the conclusion,” he said.
You couldn’t help the breathy giggles from your lips. He was really immersing himself in the role, playing the part of a tutor with dedication and charm.
He pushed himself inside of you. You haven’t done anything in a while so you had to allow yourself to readjust to his length again.
You fleshy walls struggled to open up but eventually you did accomodate to his size, feeling the familiarity of him.
Once he was all the way in, he came to a halt. Feeling yourself stretch out for him was dizzying. But sudden realisation hit you.
“Miguel, I might be on my fertility window…” you interjected, a tinge of nervousness in your voice.
While you and Miguel have discussed growing a family together in the past, the timing never felt right, and you weren’t ready for the responsibility of motherhood yet.
You’ve been taking birth control pills for your peace of mind. However, with the onset of your work project, you’ve stopped taking the pills and your body was still adjusting to the withdrawal— including your accelerated libido.
Miguel’s face didn’t falter but you could practically see the gears turning in his head from your statement. Everything felt more apparent, especially now with his dick buried inside of you.
“What are you trying to tell me, amor?” You could feel his cock twitching in anticipation inside of you and touching your cervix, almost making you lose your bearing.
“I’m off the pills Miguel. So there’s a chance that I might get knocked up after this…but it is part of biology, right?”
You ran your hands over his broad chest and he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch before resting his forehead on yours.
“You wanna be a mami?” He asked, assuring full clarity and consent from you.
Miguel, a devoted lover, would do anything to make you happy and would give you a family if that’s what you wished for. You nodded and that’s when you knew, he was ready for fatherhood too.
Your hands now wrapped around his naps, fingers lacing together. His gaze dropping to where you bodies joined.
He dragged himself out, feeling the suction from your walls, before snapping his hips back in again. The friction against your walls forced a whine out of you.
He began rolling his hips repeatedly against you in a steady rhythm, each slap ending in a jolt of overwhelming ecstasy. Your fingers were losing their grip around his neck and your hands slipped, with your nails now pressing onto his back.
Your mind and senses started to evaporate and all you could think of right now was chasing your high and Miguel filling you up with his cum, staining you and finally getting you pregnant.
You wanted to feel him for weeks, feel how much he stretched you and filled you. Your nails were digging further into his back as he thrusted deeper into you, hitting your cervix with each snap of his hips.
“Gimme a baby, Mig.” You moaned out, the mere throughly of him breeding you drove you insane. You needed his fill, you needed him to knock you up.
“Sí amor, I’ll give you as many babies as you want,”
His thrusts became more sporadic and you sensed he was lost in a haze too. A few strands of his hair stuck to the moisture that developed on his forehead. You were sinking further into the sheets, taking in everything he was giving you.
The room filled with the bed creaking in protest and the slap of his hips into yours. Soon, his pace became sloppy and uneven.
You watched the familiar trence of your husband’s climax unfold. You always felt a sense of pride knowing that only you could see him so scattered outside the composed and stoic demeanor that everyone else was used to.
His brows furrowed in full concentration and his words came out messy and slurred along with strings of your name.
He finished off with his cum pulsating inside of you in thick loads. He didn’t pull his his hips back until both balls were drenched into you. You felt your walls clenched from the withdrawal as he pulled out.
Immediately, Miguel grabbed one of the pillows and positioned it beneath you, elevating your rear.
“Keep it in there,” he instructed. He didn’t want any of his cum to go to waste and leak out.
He starts to massage your thighs to sooth any aches you were feeling. You mind drifted back to the birth control pill that you still kept in the cabinet. There was still another box left, yet you knew that you weren’t planning to take them anymore.
You mentally reminded yourself to dispose them in the morning. You looked up at Miguel again, who was still massaging your thighs.
You sighed. “You know there’s a chance I might not get pregnant the first time…”
In that moment, vulnerability wrapped around your words which connected the both of you in shared acknowledgment.
You let your mind wandered about finally getting pregnant, with Miguel praising you and kissing your swollen belly. You imagined all the appointments you’d have to attend to, leading up to the day of your baby’s arrival.
“So, does that mean we’ll be having more biology classes?” Miguel stopped massaging and spread you legs again to display your slick core.
“I think so…how about another round?”
He leaned into kiss your forehead. “I’m down if you are.”
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @slootbear @thealleydog @huniedeux @lazy-idate @club-danger-zone @blankknsfww @ivory3577 @spdrwdw @migueloharasoulmate @ednaaa-04 @miguelbaby @alyeskathewave @r7yirr @palesatan @keigoloveminty @krentkova19 @laysmt @daisy-artfield @famouscattale @fairywitch2000 @lazyjellyfish300 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii
Does anyone recognise the banner I used at the top of the post??
Part 2
#★— ayrus writes#♦︎— spicy#❤︎ scientist husband ❤︎#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o’hara imagine#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o’hara smut#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara fanfiction#miguel o’hara across the spider verse#spiderman 2099 x you#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 spiderverse#spiderman 2099#miguel spiderman#spiderman atsv#atsv x reader#miguel spiderverse
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— phone sex with bestfriend!taehyun ♡ [one-shot]
pairing: kang taehyun x fem!reader
rating: nsfw, mdni
wc: 1.1k
warnings: smut, perv!reader, dom!tyun, pet names (baby, angel, princess), brief use of daddy kink, mutual masturbation, light degradation (reader receiving)
a/n - we always talk abt perv!txt but what about perv!reader…
──────────────────────
it’s not always easy being friends with tomorrow x together. with your vastly opposite schedules, you always end up in bed already by the time your best friend taehyun calls for your daily check-ins with each other — though covertly you’re glad for the late timing, because you have a dirty little secret: it means that you get to hear his deep, sleepy, sexy voice right in your ear every night. not that you could ever tell him that.
it wasn't always this way; there was a time when taehyun didn't make your heart skip a beat and your pussy throb, when even the thought of him in such a light as this would cause your nose to wrinkle up in disgust. he's your best friend, after all. how could you ever see him as anything different?
but then his gym membership started. or maybe it was the way that he grew out his hair. or the new glasses that soobin convinced him to try wearing.. or even the sweatshirts you'd forget in his dorm that he'd always end up walking around in himself, sweatshirts that returned swimming in the scent of him each time you got them back. whatever it was, you just know that something changed in the way that you saw him. in the way that you needed him.
the thoughts you'd chase away began to turn into wet dreams — ones that you would wake up from feeling just as desperate as you were confused — and those dreams soon turned into lingering fantasies that you just couldn't shake away, no matter how shameful it felt to harbor them. and now some time later, here you are, completely wrapped around taehyun's finger without him even knowing it, willing to crumble at his feet in an instant if he asked; putty in his pretty hands with each nightly phone call that you just can never seem to get enough of.
this time you’re feeling particularly needy, however, his call coming later than usual when you just can’t stop thinking about him, about his voice; you won’t lie and say that you don’t often touch yourself while he talks to you about his day, bringing yourself to a whiny climax the minute he hangs up for the night and you’re safe to make all the noise that you want.
this time, though.. you just couldn’t wait. your shorts and panties have long since been discarded on the bed when your phone rings, and you hesitate; your mind is foggy with need, it just feels too good to stop.. you need to hear his voice so bad.. you can keep quiet, right? right?
you know that it’s wrong. you know that you shouldn’t.
but you press the green answer button with trembling fingers, biting down hard on your bottom lip to stop a moan from escaping as his low voice hums your nickname through the speaker - “hey, y/n/n. sorry i’m late.”
you take a slow breath to compose yourself before responding. “hi tyunnie. s’okay.” the conversation carries on normally at first — to him at least. you’re two fingers deep in your throbbing pussy as he’s murmuring tiredly about their latest choreography when you notice too late that taehyun has stopped speaking. you quickly curb the tiny pants that had been escaping your lips, but your fingers seem to have a mind of their own, continuing their squelching ministrations as you beg in your mind for him to continue speaking, to say something, anything.
“y/n.”
your breath hitches. your fingers pause.
something in his tone has shifted.
a few beats pass.
“are you… touching yourself?”
that does it. you can’t hold back anymore. “taehyun,” you whimper pathetically in response, head tipping back into the pillows as your eyes squeeze shut, fingers working faster as your walls squeeze around them — simultaneous with the humiliation and shame of being caught. “tyunnie, ‘m sorry, i- i just needed you so bad.. ‘m sorry-“
“where do you need me, baby?”
your brain short-circuits at the sudden switch in your best friend’s tone. at the pet name dripping from his lips. his voice is impossibly deeper and impossibly more dangerous; dangerous for your health, as you’ve never ever heard him sound so utterly sexy before. you don’t know what to say. you didn’t expect this.
“i… i..”
“use your words,” he whispers, and you can hear some shifting on his end of the line; god, you hope he’s doing what you think he’s doing.
“i.. i need you…” you swallow hard, “i need you in my… in my pussy.” your voice is small, meek, and his responsive hum sends shivers straight down to your sopping cunt.
“what’s wrong, angel? feeling shy now? when you were just in the middle of fucking yourself with those cute little fingers like a little perv as i’m over here talking about my day? tsk..” you moan, loudly, at the degradation — who knew how badly you needed him to scold you like this?
“‘m sorry.. ‘m sorry, daddy..” at this point your voice is a breathless, whiny whisper; you’re so sensitive that you’re sure the slightest breeze could blow you away right now. you don’t even realize what you said until taehyun’s deep groan cuts through the speaker.
“fuck.”
you can hear him fisting his own cock now, and you’ve never been more jealous of another person’s hand.
“keep touching yourself for me, baby. just imagine that i’m right there... bet you wish it were my fingers buried in your cunt instead, don’t you?”
“yes! ugh, yes.. please, n-need it..” your own fingers are moving impossibly faster now, the lewd wet sounds of your arousal practically pornographic, and you can tell that taehyun hears it loud and clear by the drawn-out moan that he releases from the other end.
“that’s it.. faster, baby.. got you so wet and needy, just on my voice alone, fuck.. such a little fucking pervert.. need daddy that bad? need me to fuck some sense into you?”
“uh huh!” you babble out, nodding your head fervently even though he can’t even see it, “please, please, please.. want your cock, want your fingers, want your mouth- fuck- want everything, tyunnie please, fuck, i’m-“
“cum for me, princess.”
your jaw goes slack as your orgasm wracks through you at his simple command, drool threatening to escape past your lips as you keen for him, the high-pitched, filthy moan spurred on by the sloppy sounds of his cock in his hand.
several hazy moments pass. you lay there breathless, chest heaving as you finally slide your fingers out of your soaked pussy, legs twitching residually as you stare up at your ceiling in disbelief.
no fucking way i just had phone sex with my best friend.
in your daze you don’t realize that taehyun hasn’t said anything; your brows furrow as you glance at your screen to make sure the call didn’t disconnect, but then you hear him shuffling around, the jingling sound of keys sliding off of a hook.
“taehyun..?” you question carefully. did i ruin everything? does he hate me now? does he think i’m disgusting? what if-
“don’t move. i’ll be there in 10.”
“w-what? what do you-“
“i said i’d fuck some sense into you, didn’t i? ass up, baby. i’ll see you soon.”
#mj writes#txt#txt x reader#txt hard thoughts#txt thoughts#txt smut#taehyun#kang taehyun#kang taehyun x reader#taehyun x reader#taehyun hard thoughts#taehyun thoughts#taehyun smut#kang taehyun smut#txt oneshots#kpop smut#txt drabbles#taehyun drabble#taehyun oneshot#taegimood
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hang up if u want to | kmg
he's in japan. you're at home, knowing there's no point in staring at your phone, waiting. mingyu might not wanna define what the two of you are, but that certainly doesn't stop him from asking for what he wants.
pairing: idol!mingyu x f. reader
genre: situationship au; a lil angst, smut
warnings: swearing. sexting — use of gendered terms for genitalia, mentions of oral and penetrative sex, masturbation, images/videos, dirty talk i guess?, squirting. one mention of reader wearing a dress. another mention of reader wearing mingyu’s shirt and it being large on her. (not meant to be an indication of size—that mf is just so large i think most people would drown in his clothes.) mingyu is domineering and kind of brat tamer-y but i wouldn't say this is dom-y at all. he also uses the term "baby" a lot bc i refuse to use y/n.
rating: explicit. minors dni.
wordcount: 3.6k
listen to: namasenda - dare (pm) / khalid, 6lack, ty dolla $ign - otw / keshi - like i need u / edward maya & vika jigulina - stereo love / monsta x - addicted / brockhampton - sugar / shy martin - good together
author's note: hello, i barely text men let alone sext them, so if this sucks my bad. i'm also not 100% comfy for writing any groups outside of bts, so i'm also sorry if the characterization is off. the mingyu brainrot was brainrotting tho bc if there's one thing he's gonna do it's look hot holding his phone in a photo, so. here we are. i was gonna wait and post this tomorrow but it's valentine's day so fuck it we ball.
thank you: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, & @effortandmore for checking this over and brainstorming with me. namasenda for the lyrics in the title and inspo.
Kim Mingyu
Missed Call (2)
Your eyes glance upwards at the time. It’s nearing one a.m.; Mingyu’s second call came and went only a few minutes ago. The first one will have come not long after he got off stage, because they always do. There’s a script—unspoken and unacknowledged, but a script nonetheless—and Mingyu follows it religiously.
You sigh. Leave your phone on your nightstand as you change into pajamas, back into the bathroom to wash your face. Roll your eyes as you hear the texts roll in, the sound grating and ominous as it vibrates against the wood.
All part of the script.
Kim Mingyu: just got back to the hotel
Kim Mingyu: you up
Also part of the script: this is the only way it goes. Maybe Mingyu wants to text you, but adrenaline’s the only reason he ever goes through with it. That post-concert high, nothing else to do with all that energy but invest it into you, and the thing about scripts is that they get old, grow stale. Always the same thing, and you can only have that conversation so many times before you get tired and rip it up.
We all have roles to play. Mingyu is the one who refuses to define what it is the two of you have, put a label on it. He’s the one who calls from countries away and speaks in that low, hushed tone. He’s the tempter, the one who holds all the cards but refuses to lay them down.
A royal flush, every single time.
And you—you’re not helpless. Not some poor creature fighting for its life in a spun-silk web. Mingyu’s capable of devouring you in more ways than one, but it’s not like that. Not really. As laissez-faire as he is, you come and go as you please, too. Perhaps it’s as mutually beneficial as it is destructive, but that’s the nature of the production; the result of the roles you two of you play.
Kim Mingyu: you ignoring me?
Kim Mingyu: i saw your ig story
Kim Mingyu: knock it off baby
You smile, private and sardonic, because you aren’t helpless. Sometimes it’s your web, and it’s all Mingyu can do to keep his head above water. Another role you’d borrowed from someplace else but still have memorized. Still remember all the lines, the mannerisms.
On your story: a video of you, bare skin glittering beneath the golden-fluorescent light of your bathroom; you, with your dress unzipped, the straps slipping down your arms; your hand pressed to your chest to keep yourself covered. Your back turned to the camera, visible only in the mirror, as the silk dropped to the floor.
In the settings: only two accounts given permission to see, both belonging to the same person.
In your DMs: Mingyu, on his private account with the username that looks more like a keysmash than any legible thing, reacting with the fire emoji.
Related: the image hovering just above Mingyu’s texts. The one he’d repaid you with not long after seeing your story. A mirror selfie of his own: grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, a soaked-through white t-shirt stuck to his stomach, the lines of his abs visible.
That, and everything below it—all left unanswered.
The thing about Mingyu is he’ll give chase. Doesn’t shy away from all the things he wants; isn’t shy about giving voice to them.
But he’ll never, ever beg.
(Not like this, at least. When he’s in your bed it’s always a different story. He’s a kept man, there, and kept men have no qualms about things like that. Begging for your mouth, your pussy. Begging you to let him come.)
Normally you’d let it go. Let him talk to himself in your texts, because he’s got a lot of nerve if nothing else, but you’d gone out earlier. Grabbed a few drinks with your girlfriends, let the alcohol thrum through you like a livewire. Watched as they danced with men whose names they didn’t know and never learned and thought about what it’d be like to be able to do something like that in public.
Got home, felt a little scorned, just on the edge of bitter. Made a show of taking your dress off in the bathroom mirror and posted it someplace you knew he’d look.
You: did you like it?
Rhetorical. Mingyu may not want to put a label on this thing, might not want to be caged-in and suffocated, but you know what you do to him. All the ways you affect him.
i could tell you, comes the immediate reply, and your eyes are halfway rolled when—
Kim Mingyu: or i could show you
It takes a second to come through, but once it does your breath hitches in your throat. Far from the most obscene image he’s ever sent you, but just as effective. An expanse of tanned, soft skin, lean muscle; still in those same grey sweats, bunched up a little on the thigh as he lays in his plush hotel bed with his legs spread.
At the center of it all, the outline of his hard, thick cock, so fucking big as it stretches the fabric taut.
All you can do is stare.
Mingyu is not of this earth. This thought is nothing new: he has always existed outside the realm of possibility, in more ways than one, so this is merely a fact. Grass is green, the sky is blue, sometimes you can love someone in a way that’s so overwhelming and still be no good for them.
Another fact: it’s primal, the way you need him. Always has been.
You: what am i looking at?
You: new sweatpants?
On the other end of the line, it’s easy to imagine his reaction. A quick snort of laughter, tongue pressed into the fat of his cheek before he clenches his jaw. If he were here, he’d haul you into his lap, kiss you deep and messy. Trail his fingers along your skin until they settled in the hollow of your throat.
Pull away just for a second. Just long enough to say, “Watch your mouth,” before he’s licking into it.
Kim Mingyu: don’t be like that 🙄
This time your eyes fully roll. Spitefully, you snap a picture of what’s in front of you: your bedroom wall, some drama playing on the TV, a sliver of amber light from the lamp next to you.
You send it.
You: while we’re sending pictures of irrelevant shit
Truth be told, you’re not like this often, but you get a streak of it every now and then. Only ever at times like this, when the two of you haven’t seen one another in a while and the distance between you is still so ambiguous, untitled.
Usually Mingyu will come by your place. Get you stripped down to almost nothing, have you writhing on his fingers. Then, in between satisfied groans, he’ll slap at your thighs, tell you to stop being a brat.
Kim Mingyu: then send me something worthwhile
You: you first
Another beat of silence. Long enough to flick through the channels, plug in your phone, let some of that heat dissipate.
Your phone chimes, and when you look down—
Those grey sweats are long gone, replaced with a pair of black briefs barely containing his cock, still hard and curved toward his stomach. You swallow. Let your eyes linger on the corded muscle of his thighs, all that soft skin. Let your mind remind you, just for a second, how it feels beneath your fingertips, your hands, your mouth.
All the sounds he makes.
Kim Mingyu: is that better
Kim Mingyu: is that what you wanted
Unbidden, the corners of your mouth lift. hm… close but no, you type out. Let it sit for a few seconds before you delete it. If Mingyu wants to be a tease, you can do the same.
You situate yourself against the pillows. Angle your phone so the length of your body is visible: your bare legs twisted in the sheets, the bruise Mingyu had sucked into the inside of your thigh before he left just barely making it into the frame. What’s fully visible, though: his shirt that’s draped over your frame, how much it engulfs you, the way you’re drowning in it. In him.
You send it.
You: depends... is this what you wanted?
The response is immediate:
Kim Mingyu: absolutely not. take it off baby.
You’ve starred in this production before, knew where it was headed the second you saw the missed calls, so you’d put on his favorite of your underwear. Skimpy red lace, part of a set he’d had sent to your apartment. Used to tell you in desperate whispers how ruined he was seeing you in them; used to have to rein himself in so he didn’t rip them off.
So you snap another photo. Spread your legs a little further, pull the hem of Mingyu’s shirt between your teeth. Know seeing that sliver of your stomach will drive him crazy, too, but it’ll pale in comparison to the underwear.
You consider video calling him. Want to see his face when you send this photo—the pinch of his brows, the slight drop of his jaw. The way he’ll whimper a little, say baby in that tone that floods you with heat: a little desperate, all hushed awe, bordering on a whine.
The same kind of heat that starts to creep back in again. There’s power in desire, in being desired, and even though you’re here and Mingyu’s in a hotel room in Japan, you can still feel it. Subconscious, like some kind of red string shit. Anticipatory.
Kim Mingyu: goddamn
Kim Mingyu: you wear those for me?
Kim Mingyu: fuck, i wish i was there to take them off of you
You suck in a breath. and if you were? you send back.
Kim Mingyu: you know that pair is my favorite
Kim Mingyu: drives me crazy every time you wear that set
Kim Mingyu: but i’ve changed my mind. i want you to keep them on
Kim Mingyu: want you to keep my shirt on too
You: yeah? you want me to wear your shirt while you fuck me? pull my panties to the side?
Kim Mingyu: slow down baby, i’m taking my time with you
In your bed, you snort to yourself. Mingyu has never been patient with anything, but especially not with you. Most of the time he’s so keyed up, wound so tight, that it’s all the two of you can do to make it to your bed—and sometimes you don’t. Sometimes Mingyu puts all that body to use, presses your back to the wall and throws your legs over his shoulders as he eats you out. Wraps your legs around him as he fucks you right there, the slide so, so easy with how wet and messy he gets you.
You remind him of as much. Type out, you? taking your time? i’ve got a couple walls in my entryway that would say differently, and laugh when the reply comes through—can’t help myself sometimes—and promptly stop laughing at the next one: never can, with you.
Kim Mingyu: have i ever told you what i love the most?
Kim Mingyu: just kissing you. you always taste so good, baby
Kim Mingyu: the way you get so worked up and start grabbing at me when i’m doing it. the way you try to get me to touch you. the way you start grinding your pussy on me like you can’t go another second without me inside you
You feel like you’re on fire. Gets worse with every word you read and re-read, try to commit to memory. You know it all too well, what he’s talking about. Know how warm his skin is, how firm he feels under your touch. Know what he tastes like. How soft his lips are. The way he sounds when you start to writhe, the way he groans when he presses tighter against you, presses you into the mattress, hard cock rutting against you, enough to take the edge off but nowhere near what he needs.
You: love that too
You: love when you’re inside me even more
Kim Mingyu: me too baby
Kim Mingyu: love the way you feel around me
Kim Mingyu: always so fucking tight
Kim Mingyu: ffuck
Your stomach drops at his last message. are you touching yourself? you type, even though you already know the answer. Another sight you’re blessed to know: Mingyu’s hand wrapped around himself, how the size of his cock makes it look small in comparison. Head tilted back, abs flexing under the weight of the pleasure.
You get a singular character in reply: 응.
show me.
He doesn’t respond right away. The pause is enough to have anticipation thrumming through your veins, make you a little shaky. Your hand trembles as you trace patterns into your warm, soft skin, pretending it’s Mingyu’s touch and not your own. Pretend it’s Mingyu’s hand that grabs at your breast beneath his shirt, thumbs over your nipple; Mingyu’s touch that has soft gasps escaping you. Pretend it’s Mingyu’s hand that dips beneath the hem of your panties.
Kim Mingyu
Attachment: 1 Movie
On the screen: Mingyu’s face greets you first, eyes half-lidded and hazy, the corners of his mouth lifted in a smirk. He tilts his head back, lets you see the sweat-slick skin of his neck, the column of his throat; pans the camera down over his collar bones, his bare chest, before he flips the screen. Can barely fit the entirety of his frame in the shot, and it strikes you someplace deep, how big he is. How overwhelming.
You suck in a breath as your eyes focus—as you take in the way he’s stroking himself. His cock glistens with whatever lube he’d indulged in, but you can’t help but pretend it’s from you and your mouth. Wish you could see the way he’d touch himself as you sucked him nearly to orgasm and told him to finish himself off. The way he’d whine, beg a little, get a little shitty with you.
“Fuck,” you say out loud. You can feel your pupils blow at the thought.
“Jagiya,” comes Mingyu’s voice, intertwined with the sounds of the tv, a city so far away from you, “fuck, I’m so fu-fucking hard.”
If you’d thought you were on fire before, it’s nothing compared to now. Hearing the need in his voice, watching the way he’s touching himself. The way his hips stutter as his body seeks out more, more, more, always more, and the way he squeezes the base of his cock so he doesn’t come too soon.
“Wish it was you. Wish it was you touching me like this. I—fuck, need you so bad.”
You watch as Mingyu strokes over the head of his cock, as each subsequent pass gets more tacky and wet. Lick your lips at the sight of it. Want, more than anything, to get your mouth on him and taste the salt of his skin, the precome he’s jerking himself off with.
Before he even needs to ask, you start recording a video of your own. Leave your panties on because you know he’d want you to. Record the first pass of your fingers through your slick, let out a disbelieving little laugh at how wet you are, how you can hear it. Moan as you dip a finger into your cunt, just to the first knuckle. Say, “I’m so wet, Gyu, oh my god,” all breathy.
Not all that different from how you sound when he’s here. When he’s flesh and blood and right beside you, on top of you.
You use the wetness you’ve gathered and move your hand to your clit. It’s throbbing beneath your touch, your body already wound too tight, and you nearly hiss in oversensitivity and relief when you finally touch yourself the way you’ve wanted to. “Fuck.”
You force yourself to take your time. Slow, small circles, when everything in your body is screaming to be selfish, begging for release the same way Mingyu’s had.
“Should I finger myself?” you ask. A sharp inhale as your next pass has your toes curling. “Wo-won’t feel as good as you, but I need—need more.”
Before you cut the video, you zoom in a little. Make sure Mingyu will be able to see the way you’re touching yourself, be able to hear the sound of your arousal, the same sounds that have warmth blooming in your cheeks.
Kim Mingyu: jesusf fuck
Kim Mingyu: god baby youre so hto
Kim Mingyu: wanna see you finger yourself
Kim Mingyu: please
It’s a little embarrassing, how incapable you are of denying him anything. You trust him implicitly, love him even more, so it’s second nature to give in, to adjust your phone so you don’t have to hold it. Second nature to press record, pull your panties to the side just like you’d proposed earlier; second nature to make a show of sticking two fingers in your mouth, sucking on them, before bringing them to your entrance and easing them inside.
Nothing compared to the stretch of Mingyu, both his fingers and his cock, but it’s still good. Enough to have you sighing softly, barely audible over the sound of everything else: the rustling of your sheets, the low thrum of your own television, you in general.
A rhythmic song and dance. Practiced. You grow wetter with each push and pull; know Mingyu will be able to see it, the way you work yourself open. That, too, has you a little dizzy. Breathless. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you. Not only like this, but all the time. Does he see an expiration date? Something good while it lasted? Is there just this—something carnal and superficial?
Or does he just see you?
It drives you crazy. Inspires something within you: not just the desire to please him, make it worth his while, but to be something else, something more than this. Has your fingers moving a little faster, has you grinding your clit against the palm of your hand. Has you a whining, writhing mess; has sounds spilling out that you aren’t sure you’ve ever heard come out of you.
You send it before you can overthink it. Whatever Mingyu sees in you, at least these are the images that’ll play in his mind whenever he thinks of you. At least you’ve sunk your claws into him.
Seconds pass in a blur. You’re still on the brink of a mind-numbing orgasm, stuck in this liminal space simply because Mingyu isn’t here, and you know, too, how this goes. Know you aren’t supposed to come without his say-so in the same way he edges himself until he gets yours.
Kim Mingyu: shit shit shit
Kim Mingyu: i wish that was me. wanna take you apart like that. wanna finger you while i eat you out, make you squirt all over me again
Kim Mingyu: fuck i thin k about that all the time
Kim Mingyu: im gonna cum
I think about that all the time.
So do you. You, on your hands and knees, Mingyu eating you out from behind. Bracing yourself against the headboard with one arm, the other one reaching behind you to pull at his hair. You remember how relentless he’d been that night. A man possessed. Disregarded all your breathless pleas, every Mingyu, Gyu, fuck, fuck, Mingyu, baby— that left your mouth. His tongue left your pussy only long enough to say, you can take it, baby before he was right back at it. Before he worked in two fingers alongside his mouth. Before his free hand came down hard on your ass, the sting startling you, making you jerk, forcing you closer to his mouth.
You remember coming with a scream. You remember coming to with Mingyu’s lips to your neck, the sweet way he was speaking to you. You remember the knee-jerk embarrassment you felt when you saw the giant wet spot you’d left on the bed and how quickly it dissipated when Mingyu pressed a kiss to your temple, called you his good girl.
You: you can come, but you know the rule
You move your fingers back to your clit, feel all that pleasure flood back, start in your toes. It’s not long before you’re pulling a blistering orgasm from your body—one that feels like it belongs to Mingyu, wasn’t yours for the taking.
thank you, he replies, right beneath a photo of his abs streaked with cum.
The comedown is jarring. You feel both too big for your body and completely out of sorts now that you’ve fulfilled your role. Now that there’s nothing to do but sit in the stillness of your bedroom, that same drama playing on television, some girl getting her heart broken.
You wonder if Mingyu’s thinking the same. If his body also sags with relief, if the absence of all that tension feels crushing. If the first thought he has in this newfound clarity is also I love you and if he also swallows it down every single time. You wonder if he thinks about his role, if it’s becoming stale and tired.
Because you know what comes next:
Kim Mingyu: i’ll be home soon
Kim Mingyu: can i see you
And you also know what you’ll say. After all, you’ve played this role before.
if you've made it this far thank you so much for reading! this is prob not my best work since it's a lil rushed but i needed something to get me out of my slump.
i would love to hear your thoughts! <3
#mingyu x reader#mingyu smut#mingyu imagines#mingyu scenarios#mingyu x you#mingyu x y/n#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#seventeen scenarios#seventeen smut#jewel writes
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✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter five)
pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader
warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder/violence mention (but no actual murder) , MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, roughhousing, eventual piv, one chapter specific dubcon scene (pls tell me if i forgot anything!)
chapter: 5/6
words: um. 9.5k (sorry? but also you're welcome??)
chapter warnings: this chapter contains a scene that falls solidly into dubcon territory, so please proceed with caution, stay safe out there.
moodboards
series masterlist
a/n: WELL. here we are, almost at the end of our little rollercoaster ride. i've lost brain cells over this chapter, almost cut it up into smaller chunks, but ended up leaving it as long as i originally planned (longer, in fact. whoops). as always, feedback is very welcome + encouraged (i love hearing/reading your thoughts as things progress) buckle up, please do take note of the dubcon warning, prepare for the angst, and most importantly, enjoy!
i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.
He was back to ignoring you again.
But this time, the feeling was mutual. You’d never felt as thoroughly rejected as you did the night he had you walk back to your room, legs weak, wrapped in nothing but his shirt.
Once upon a time, this scenario would have been one you dreamed of, but reality often falls flat on its face. You wouldn’t have dreamt of walking away from him like this if you’d known it would feel this empty.
Humiliation ran rampant through your body, starting with the tears you blinked away as you left his room, closing the door behind you, and then flooding over as you stepped into your own room, slumping on the bed, curling up into yourself and weeping, pressing your still aching legs together but too upset to finish yourself off.
You kicked yourself for getting carried away, for getting too loud, too possessive with his face between your thighs and your hand in his hair. For getting so caught up in the moment, briefly forgetting your games, and for believing even for a second that you would be on the same page.
This push and pull had begun to wear you thin, and you were tired. So, you slept. Until nearly midday the next morning, when Lucille knocked on your door to remind you it was time for your monthly PR debrief.
The good news, though arguable at this point, was that your arrangement hadn’t been affected by recent events. At least, not on paper. Cordelia ran you through each gala, public appearance, and dinner, barely noticing your preoccupation, rambling on about speeches, coordinating outfits, dates and times of events, what to say and how to say it.
For you - and you could only imagine, Coriolanus too - everything had changed over the span of a month.
Your shame made you abnormally quiet, head hung low, gaze averted, nodding along as Cordelia prompted either a response or approval from you. Snow just stared, glancing at her only when completely necessary, but otherwise, he didn’t take his eyes off you.
He was enjoying this. The sick fuck. You were glad when the meeting ended and you could scamper into the library, eager to lose yourself in a story of any kind other than the one you were living.
This went on. By day, you barely looked at him; by night, you tried over and over to prove that your own fingers were enough to keep you satisfied. To convince yourself that you just wanted him, you didn’t need him.
Because if you needed him, then he called the shots. He would win. And victorious as he may seem, the game wasn’t over yet. You’d slipped up in a moment of vulnerability, he’d tricked you into a corner just to prove his point.
You wanted him, you didn’t need him. But if you did… well.
He was going to have to need you more.
You held back this time. Keeping your cards safe, close to your chest. In a strange way, you found a kind of solace in your arrangement. Recent events had caused it to feel unstable, breakable even, but the meeting had ensured that it was all still on the right track. It allowed you to take a small piece of what you wanted from him without guilt or repercussions. After all, it was planned out to benefit you both. Then, when you were ready, and with a gentle hand, you began to weaponise it, loading it up in the barrel of a gun aimed directly at Snow.
You didn't have much left, but you had this. You knew where your promiscuity had led you. This time, you wanted to pull on his heart strings. Make him feel remorse, or whatever similar emotion he was capable of. Make him soften to you. Torture him with almosts that were never enough.
So when you took, you took cautiously, tentatively. You deepened your usually light kisses to what was just past socially acceptable, only to pull back when Snow began to lean in, turning away and smiling at the people surrounding you, or full-on entering into conversation with somebody else. You'd brush your thumb against his when you held hands, waiting for him to look at you, drawing your hand away when he did. You'd offer smiles to everyone but him, talk and laugh a little louder when you could feel him watching.
You pretended he didn’t exist. You could feel him begin to simmer. It wasn't as brazen as your usual game, but it was working.
Until it wasn’t.
“Something’s wrong, what is it?”
Lucille’s face dropped, her shaking hands lowering from the zip she was struggling with. You were getting ready for a luncheon, and you’d picked out an emerald green dress, one of your favorites for daytime events.
“I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice, ma’am. I apologise. It’s my brother, he… it’s getting worse again.”
“Sit down for a second. Talk to me. What’s going on?”
You listened to Lucille open up uncomfortably, visibly nervous that you would offer your financial support as you’d done before. But you didn’t, sparing her from having to turn you down.
Lucille was stubborn - she would never accept your charity. She was more than happy to work for her wages, and frequently worked longer hours. As months went by, you’d brought her pay up as high as you could without her noticing. But now things were getting more critical, and you knew there was only one thing you could do.
“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go and see your brother.”
“But you’re not dressed-”
“I’ll take care of it. Go home, Lucille. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
She smiled softly.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
You’d tried with the zip, you really had. You didn’t want to have to knock on Snow’s office door with two favors to ask instead of one, but the dress was tight and the zip kept getting jammed. So, there you stood, dress half undone at the back, heart in your throat. You counted your blessings; at least it wasn’t his bedroom. You didn’t think you could face him at all in there. You heard typing from inside.
“Come in.”
You pushed the door open, feeling like an intruder.
“Sorry, I just… Could you help me with this?” Your hand tightened behind your back, holding the dress together.
He narrowed his eyes. He was already in his suit, typewriter on the desk in front of him.
“Lucille forget how to do her job?”
“I don’t need snide right now. Please, Coriolanus? I’ll explain when I’m not half naked. It’s drafty in here.”
You tried to make it clear in your tone that this wasn’t some ploy. You weren’t sure you had many of those left to offer.
“Fine.” He sighed, and stood, making no motion towards you, so you crossed the room, gripping onto the fabric, turning your back to him.
His hand came to rest on your waist as the other took the zipper, and you tried not to flinch at his touch. You pressed your lips together as he carefully zipped you up, cold metal sending a chill down your spine. Or maybe that was just him. You felt your eyes slide shut and your lips part as his hand lingered on your waist. You couldn’t hear anything but your heartbeat and the tick of his grandfather clock.
“Is that okay? Not too tight?” His breath on your neck gave you goosebumps, you hoped desperately that he wouldn’t notice.
“No, it’s perfect. Thank you.”
The second his hand fell from your waist, you missed it. You carefully met his eye; he was looking at you like you had something he wanted.
So why hadn’t he wanted you? You’d been right there, and he’d turned you down.
He cleared his throat.
“I should finish this letter before we leave. Was there anything else?”
You paused.
“Actually, there is. Could I ask you a favor?” You glanced off to the side, suddenly very interested in the knots of wood on his desk. What helped was that you'd never seen inside this room before, and you hid behind your curiosity like it was a lifeline.
“What is it?”
“It’s…” you lowered your voice, “it’s about Lucille. Her brother, actually. He’s in the hospital again. The family can’t afford the medical bills to keep him in for as long as he needs. I’d like to foot the bill, but I can’t do it anonymously. I thought… well, I was wondering if you could pull a few strings.”
You were overexplaining, something you weren’t at all used to doing, but these days, just being in the same room as him made you nervous. You stared at his desk, at the lack of photographs on it, the single pen laying to the side, the smoothness of the glaze.
It was quiet for a moment.
“Consider it done.”
You looked up.
“Really?”
“Did you think I’d say no?” He asked.
“I- no, but…”
“It’s something that matters to you.”
You blinked, dumbfounded at how simply he put it.
“Yes. It is. Thank you, Coriolanus.”
“Don’t mention it. I’ll make sure it’s anonymous.”
“Thank you. Or, I mean…”
He looked at you, and you wanted to melt. Wanted to throw strategy out the window, god, but -
You couldn’t. It hadn’t worked last time. You’d hoped to avoid a stalemate, but here you were, sat right in the middle of one.
“The car’s coming in a half hour. Are you almost ready?” He asked.
“Yes. Almost.”
The luncheon was going well, at first. You were at the head of a large table, sat beside Snow, straightening your salad fork as he stood up to make a speech. You’d been glancing at him throughout the afternoon; it wasn’t so hard to anymore. It felt like his willingness to help Lucille without question, just because it was what you wanted, had more of an effect on you in five minutes than the entire week of your teasing had on him. One conversation, and the tides had changed.
As he began talking, you started to realise that your gentler approach may have been affecting you more than it had him. The party was transfixed; people loved to hear him talk, and you were proud. He had a certain way with words; you knew better than anyone. You’d fallen victim to them.
You weren’t sure why his words affected you – you’d been there, you’d agreed when Cordelia had suggested he say something nice about you in this particular speech, really make the crowd swoon, lay it on thick - but when he started to talk about you, about how proud he was to have you by his side, how strong you were-
You knew he was just reciting a script written for him, but you couldn’t help it. The tears began to quietly fall. You thanked whatever higher being was listening for not letting anyone notice.
Or so you thought.
It was just typical that out of all the people that could’ve noticed, the one person who knew better was the only one who did.
The rest of them would’ve brushed it off as you simply being moved by emotion, honored by his kind words. You blinked away your tears, taking small, polite sips of your wine. It was painful because you knew it wasn’t true. None of it was, you knew he could never say those words and mean them.
And he knew that too.
It was dark when you got home, and you trailed behind him awkwardly on your way upstairs.
“Can I have a word?” his voice was gentle, and it set you on edge.
“Sure.”
You stood awkwardly in the hallway, then he led you into the office. He leaned against his desk, and you shifted your feet where you stood, eyes on the floor, on the art on the walls, on anything other than him.
“You were upset today.” He started.
You swallowed.
“It won’t happen again, I promise.” you kept your voice steady. He paused.
“If that was my fault, I apologise. If I took it too far, if I upset you-”
You weren’t sure which part he was talking about, but you finally looked at him in a sort of distant defiance.
“Do you even care if I’m upset?”
“Of course I do. Especially when it’s something that affects you… publicly.”
You huffed, forcing yourself to stare him down.
“Because that’s all that matters, right? What the public sees?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Sure it is. It’s okay, Snow. I’m a big girl. And I can take a hint, too. So don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine. Business as usual, right?”
He just stared, puzzled. You took a breath.
“Look, it’s been a long day. Can I go, or are you going to keep me here all night?”
The silence was like smoke, clouding between you. His brow furrowed, calculating. Then he sighed, long and heavy, and you tried not to let it phase you.
“Fine. Go.”
You nodded.
“Goodnight.”
You’d never been more relieved to get away from him. Your broken walls were starting to build back up. You wouldn’t let him break you, you couldn’t. You were stronger than this.
That night, for the first time, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was truly what you wanted.
“Darling, you look ravishing.” Lilian drawled. “It’s a pity Snow is so far across the room, and can’t appreciate you. If I dressed half as nicely as you did, perhaps my dear husband wouldn’t be screwing the maid.”
A scandalised chorus of giggles erupted from the group. It was a pretty dress, one of your best. Long and smooth black fabric, ruched at the waist, with a deep cut up the leg that was just acceptable for an evening gala. You stood tall, champagne glass in hand, gossiping with your friends.
Well.
Friends was being generous. You kept few true friends, and they would hardly be gossiping in a circle like this.
Acquaintances was a better fit. Pawns if you were being brutally honest. Politicians’ wives, senators’ mistresses, a chancellor’s daughter or two. Pieces of chess, really, in this bigger game. Anyone who could help you climb higher, whisper carefully spun words into open ears at your whim.
“I just know George would rip that dress off me the moment I got home. He might not even be able to wait, and just pull me into a closet here instead.”
Another eruption of giggles.
“Well, I’m flattered, my darlings.” You smiled. “This is one of my favorites. Coriolanus treats me well.”
“I’m sure he does,” a suggestive glance from Lilian, “in all the ways one would expect, I assume?”
You gasped in mock modesty.
“Lilian,” you drawled, “I certainly hope you’re not suggesting I disclose our-”
“Oh, just tell us dear, please. We’re all dying to know. You’re always so coy about it. What’s he like?”
You pulled your lips into a knowing smile, your perfectly painted face helping you slide into this facade. You scanned your eyes across the ballroom, across to Snow. He stood talking to a group of men, colleagues of his. You recognised their faces.
It had been four days since the luncheon. Four days since your outburst. Four days of hiding away. You’d been dreading tonight’s gala, but it gave you an excuse to dress nicely, and as soon as you’d arrived, you and Coriolanus has gone your separate ways.
“Well,” you hummed, masking your uncertainty as anticipation, “he can be a slight tease.”
A few dramatic gasps sounded through the group, and you turned back to face them, their eyes wide and expectant.
“Salacious. Do tell.” Another voice piped up with a giggle.
“He can be fun to toy with. I do enjoy pushing back, but sometimes he takes it… a little far.” You said carefully.
“My, who would have known? But you get what you want, my dear, surely.” Lilian asked.
You smiled, glancing back at him, suit pristine with a white rose in his breast pocket. You hated how good he looked. He was smiling politely at the group of men around him, but you could tell from the tick in his jaw that something was bothering him.
“Sometimes, I do. Others, I wait for my chance to push his buttons right back.”
“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? I don’t suppose,” she pressed, “that you’re in one of those… entanglements at the moment?”
“Lilian, darling, you know I don’t kiss and tell.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Another giggle sounded from the group.
“Oh, my.” Lilian repeated, glancing between the two of you. “I do hope you’ve been making him suffer.”
“Well, I’m playing a longer game this time, so I’m afraid there hasn’t been as much fun lately.”
Lilian sucked in a breath, like the perfect idea had just dawned on her.
“Well, I see no moment like the present. You’re here, you’re dressed marvellously, I propose you walk right over there and show him just what he’s missing.”
A chorus of yes and do it and we’ll cheer you ons rang out. Loosened by the champagne, you looked across the room at him again. You could do it. He wouldn’t be able to react, it would be the most perfect torture. You suddenly decided that you were done making small moves, done playing it safe like this was some schoolgirl crush. It was time to step up to the mark again. Take your power back.
Your group could sense the newfound determination in you. You smiled, slow and cunning.
Show him what he’s missing.
Simple. It’s what you did best.
“Watch and learn, ladies.”
A hush fell over the group as they watched you run a hand through your hair, handed your glass to one of them, and pressed your lips together. Before you’d left the house you’d added a swipe of red lipstick, dark red, almost bloodlike. It always made you feel more confident and tonight, you needed the pick me up.
The middle of the ballroom was practically empty; the dancing was over, and everyone had long since gathered in groups to the sides. So you turned heads when you stepped out, the only one on the floor, black satin hugging your frame like a second skin. You didn’t look at them, you made a steady beeline to Snow. You felt more and more eyes on you as you crossed the room, heels clicking on the floor. They all watched, waiting for… something. Coriolanus didn’t look up until you were a mere few steps away, now deep in some conversation he was going to forget very shortly.
Blue eyes flashed to yours with a confused apprehension, but you didn’t give yourself time to think about the twitch of his brow, or the looks on the faces of his colleagues. You didn’t think about the way he opened his mouth as if to say something, only for it to be swallowed away.
You didn’t think about any of that.
Because your lips were on his.
Hot and hungry, teeth clashing, your hand grabbing the back of his neck as he leaned in, surprised at first, then warm, wanting. Lips tugging at yours like he was starving.
It was sinful.
You’d never been kissed like this before. Your fuzzy brain wondered how you’d gone through life not knowing what this felt like, the press of his lips devouring yours, heated and messy.
He kissed you like breathing, like you were his oxygen supply. His hand slid to your waist and pulled you in, and you heard the echoes of chuckling coming from around you, morphing into a few light claps.
Then, just as you felt him fully melt into you, your hand slipped higher to the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of perfect platinum curls, and tugged.
It was nothing but an affectionate display to the people surrounding you, but a brazen reminder between the two of you. It was your way of showing you hadn’t forgotten, that you wouldn’t be made to feel ashamed, to cower in a corner while he got the better of you.
Not in this lifetime.
The second it happened, his breath hitched, and his hand tensed on your waist. You were the only one who caught it, getting high off the satisfaction, finally pulling away.
You weren’t sure you’d ever seen a prettier sight; his blown-out eyes, his face stained with scarlet.
How’s that for tasting your own medicine.
Watching him attempt to collect himself was sweeter still. Watching him reset his face into one of distant amusement. He let out a small laugh, glanced at the rest of the party.
“Everything alright, doll? Had a little much champagne, perhaps?”
His colleagues chuckled, but you didn’t look their way. You stood your ground. Offered a sweet smile, but he could see your slyness.
“Oh, I’m swell. And I think I’ve had just enough, actually. I’m gonna go freshen up.”
You turned on your heel and made your way through winding halls to the bathroom, riding an adrenaline high. You picked up a glass from a server’s tray along the way – the champagne had dried out, all they were serving now was posca, which while disgusting, worked a treat to take the edge off. It wasn’t long before the door swung open and you saw Coriolanus appear behind you in the mirror.
“This is the ladies’ room, handsome.” You looked away, continuing to reapply your lipstick.
He stepped closer.
“What was that kiss about, sweetheart?” Straight to the point.
“Nothing.” You shrugged.
“Didn’t feel like nothing.”
“That’s called acting, Snow.” You rolled your eyes, vaguely aware that your words sounded a little jumbled. You put the tube of lipstick away. “We had an audience. A rather expectant one at that.”
He folded his arms.
“I don’t like it when you catch me off guard like that. Not with people around.”
“Seemed to like it plenty to me.” You mumbled.
He didn’t answer, pacing past you to the other sink, grabbing a towel and wiping it against his face, where the red had stained his skin. It only served to spread it around further, and if you weren’t already smugly entertained by the marks you’d left on him, now it was just plain funny.
He glared at you when you laughed.
“Don’t give me that look. Here,” you offered, stepping across to him, taking the towel and wetting it, “let me.”
You wiped at a patch, but he snatched the towel back and took over.
“No, you’re rubbing it too hard. It’s-” he glowered at you – “fine. Do it your way.”
You went back to lean against your sink and took another sip of posca, admiring the ornate decorations in the room. A little excessive, a little new money for your tastes.
There was a rap on the door.
“President Snow?”
“Just a minute.” He said coolly.
“You’re in a mood tonight.” You remarked, and he huffed.
“Running a country can get exhausting. Don’t expect you to understand.”
“Right.” You said flatly. “Because I’m just a brainless pawn like everybody else.”
He looked over at you, at the drink in your hand.
“How many of those have you had?”
You shrugged again, and he tossed the towel into the sink, walking over to you.
“Answer me.” His voice was stern, and for a second, you soaked it in, drenched in the danger as he approached, closing in. Your tongue slipped out to wet your lips, and your eyes followed his as he moved to stand in front of you.
“Shame you don’t have someone to let all that frustration out on, isn’t it? Sounds like that could be helpful.”
His eyes pierced yours.
“Doll-”
“I’m just saying, it’s a pity you don’t.” You moved to bring the glass to your lips, anticipating the burn in your throat, but he gently stopped your hand.
“Okay, that’s enough.”
“Posca? It’s my first glass.” You smiled, eyes batting.
“You know what I mean. I think you should stop.”
You looked at the glass, then back at him, and pried your hand away, slowly and pointedly taking another sip.
“Sweetheart.” He warned.
“What, are you punish me? Gonna make me beg for you then kick me out again? Already did that once.”
He gave an incredulous half-laugh.
“That’s what this is about? You’re not really going to be mad about that forever, are you?”
“That depends. How long is forever?”
The door knocked again, and he worked the glass out of your hand.
“Drink some water. Sober up. We’ll talk about this when we get home.”
You sighed, heading for the door, but glanced back at him, his face still a stained mess. You brushed a finger against your own cheek to mirror his.
“You missed a spot.”
You sat in silence in his office, feeling a little like a schoolchild caught misbehaving. His typing was the only sound in the room. The seat was low; almost as if it was there to point out his authority over anyone who sat in it. Knowing him, it probably was.
He’d managed to clean off the rest of your lipstick, but his face looked rubbed raw, uncomfortable. A tall glass of water sat on the desk in front of you.
“Thought you said we’d talk.”
“Not until you finish that glass. I’m not talking to you inebriated.”
“Seriously?”
He shot you a look from behind his typewriter.
“Fine. Whatever.” You reached for it and took a few sips. He looked back down again. A few folders cluttered the desk, and in your boredom, your eyes scanned them. They looked complicated; legal.
“What are you writing there anyway? Or am I too dumb to understand?”
He offered another unimpressed glance.
“It’s a new bill I’m trying to pass. Except apparently, I’m the only one around here with their head screwed on enough to work on it.”
You waited as Snow pushed the typewriter’s lever, carriage sliding the page as he began writing the next line. You sipped your water.
He sighed. “One day I won’t have to mingle with these idiots anymore. They’ll just listen to me, and obey.”
You took that in.
“Do you feel that way about me?”
He studied you for a second, and stopped typing.
“No. Not really.”
“But you wish I’d be more… compliant.” You stared at the floor.
“Not necessarily.”
“You sure? Didn’t seem to like it the other night.”
His eyes narrowed. Knowing this conversation was a game of chess like any other. But lately the stakes were higher than ever.
“Never said I didn’t like it. Just that you were out of line.”
“And where is that fucking line?” You snapped. “I’m serious, Snow, because we’ve never talked about it.”
“You want to talk, all of a sudden? Okay, sweetheart. Fire away.”
You put the glass down on the table, heavier than intended.
“I just don’t understand you, Coriolanus. I mean, first you don’t want me, then you do want me, then you don’t again. And now what? I don’t know what I’m supposed to think when you don’t give me anything to go off.”
He watched you carefully, and you wanted to shake him, to scream, anything that would give you answers. You stood, unable to sit still, and started pacing.
“You know what’s worse? I don’t even know if you want me here anymore. I don’t know how to act around you because I never know what you’re thinking. At first I thought all this, the whole push and pull, was just some control thing. But-” you laughed, airy and insane, “you know what I realised? You’ve had me fooled, Snow. All this time I thought we were equals, but now I think I finally realise.”
He frowned, waiting for you to continue.
“You pay for my company, if you think about it. We trade services, don’t we? You get something from me, I get something back. I live in your house, eat your food, wear nice clothes. At the end of the day, that’s just it, isn’t it?”
“What?”
You shrugged, tears filling your eyes as bitterness took over, so strong you could almost taste it.
“I’m no better than a whore myself.”
You’d never heard a louder silence. If that hadn’t just taken everything out of you, you’d have begged him to say something. Instead, you just stared, eyes blurry with tears, as he seconds seemed to stretch into minutes, and you gave up trying to read his mind, because his expression was indecipherable.
After what felt like hours, he took a long breath.
“Sit down.”
You glanced at the floor, then took a step towards your chair. He stopped you.
“Not there. Here.” He nodded at the desk in front of him, and you swallowed thickly, stepping around the desk, getting awfully close to him, and pulling yourself onto the desk, legs pressed together. He stood, looking down at you.
“That’s really what you think of yourself?” He asked, voice steady and controlled.
You kept your eyes averted.
“Am I wrong?”
He lifted a hand and brushed his fingertips against your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. And when you looked at his eyes, you knew exactly what he was feeling. He wasn’t hurt, or upset.
He was mad.
“Tell me something. What do you think I’d do if I heard someone talking about you that way?
“I don’t-”
“I’d have them executed. And you expect me to stand by and let you talk about yourself like that?”
You felt a tear spill down your cheek.
“I don’t know, Coriolanus, you tell me. Am I disposable to you?”
“Of course not."
“But you’d replace me if I left.”
“What makes you think I’d let you leave in the first place?”
A chill caressed your spine.
“That’s right. I’m keeping you here, doll. If I made you doubt that, I apologise. But you’re no whore. Though sometimes, I…” He trailed off.
“What?”
His eyes were on your lips again, hungry. You wondered how someone could switch from distant to depraved and wanting this quickly.
“Sometimes I wish you were. Because it’d make it a lot easier for me to take what I want. If you were, then I’d have no hesitation in ripping your clothes off right here. Fucking you on my desk, or up against the wall, not caring if you cum. Not caring if you enjoy it. If you were a whore, I’d have fucked you in every room in this house, twice over. I wouldn’t let you sleep.”
His hand was on your thigh, the now-creased fabric of your dress crumpling as it slid up. You weren’t sure when your eyes had fallen shut, your hot breath mixing with his as his thumb rubbed against your skin.
Your voice was pathetically quiet.
“Then why don’t you?”
He sighed, tone shifting into something tense, something you could cut through with a knife.
“Because you’re fucking impossible, you know that? I can barely think when you’re around. I don’t know where the games begin or end. I don’t… I don’t understand this power you have over me. I thought you knew, you must know that you’re under my skin. I don’t know if you’ll ever stop playing with me. It drives me fucking insane.”
You opened your eyes, hand gripping his wrist and pulling it from your thigh. You slid off the desk and took a step away from him.
“You think I’m playing with you? The only time you pay an ounce of attention to me is when you’re trying to fuck with my head, Snow. I said my piece, you heard me and you still didn’t care. So please, for both our sakes, stop torturing me. Just… come find me when you decide you want me again, okay? Let’s leave it at that.”
You made for the door, which you slammed with such an impressive force that it even took you aback.
You replayed his words in your head that night until you fell into a deep sleep, and when you woke, you felt like your dreams made more sense than he did.
“Tigris!” you exclaimed, catapulting into the blonde’s arms. The people who stood scattered around you in the manor’s large ballroom spun their heads around at your display. A few even dodged to the side as the momentum that you’d built running down the stairs nearly knocked her over.
A few days of silent glances and fewer exchanged words had passed. And now, you were just happy to be hosting in the comfort of your own home, and to finally see Tigris again. You wondered if she noticed how you hugged her, if she wondered - like you did - if you’d ever let go.
“I’m so happy you’re here. How’s your Grandma’am?”
“She’s quite well, she’s sorry she couldn’t make it. You look beautiful as ever. It’s been too long!”
“I know! I don’t think I’ve seen you since your birthday, which makes me the worst friend ever.” You groaned, scrunching up your face in shame.
“It’s okay! I know busy Coriolanus keeps you with all these functions. You must be going out of your mind by now. How are you holding up?”
The two of you walked to the edge of the room, where prying eyes had settled down after your greeting.
You looked at Snow, stood across the ballroom, dressed in a pristine suit with a champagne glass in hand, talking to yet another group of men who worked for him – ministers and such, a little higher ranking than the group from the other night – and spared you the occasional glance. As if he was keeping tabs on you. It wasn’t long before Tigris caught on and politely inquired.
“I don’t understand him, Tigris. I think he hates me.” You sighed.
“What? No, he could never. He has a soft spot for you, really, and I have it on good authority.”
“I’m not so sure anymore. I think I’ve pushed it a little far this time. I think… maybe we both did. I’m in uncharted waters, here.”
“Look, I know I don’t know all the ins and outs of how this thing between you works, but I don’t think he could ever hate you for doing anything. Coryo – I mean, Coriolanus, he does care, contrary to popular belief. It’s just that his way of showing it can get a little…”
“Fucked?” You offered, and she laughed.
“Yes, exactly. Now, I’m not going to lie to you and say that he’s an angel on earth, he’s had to do things to get to where he is now. Things that even I don’t know the extent of, and they’ve… changed him.”
You rarely got the chance to speak with Tigris alone these days, with Snow usually playing chaperone, or keeping one or the both of you busy, but it had always been easy to slide right back into conversation with her like you’d never been apart.
You’d first met Tigris at a Plinth gala years ago, on the same day you’d met Snow. The two of you had talked and laughed and she had an easiness around her, she wasn’t shallow and judgemental like a lot of the girls you’d grown up with, though you never knew why until many months later. Snow had placed a large wall between his life before the Plinth endorsement, and after. Few people knew the conditions he’d grown up in, but after countless hours with Tigris, you’d begun to assemble small pieces. Despite your closeness with her, you knew from her warnings that Snow had a sort of temper when it came to this topic, so you approached it with caution.
“Changed him how?” You inquired, finally.
“Well… It wasn’t always fancy balls and lunches with him. It never was, with any of us, as you know, but especially for him. He’s… had a different experience. Grandma’am and I, we’ve known hard times, but we haven’t seen what he’s seen. Not even close.”
“What kind of things?”
She glanced over her shoulder, making sure nobody was hovering.
“He’d kill me for telling you.”
“You know I won’t say a word. But you don’t have to tell me, if it’s too much to ask.”
She took in a breath, and sipped her drink, voice dropping to a whisper.
“This stays between us, okay? Coriolanus has… been out there. In the districts, I mean. Before all this. And I can’t go into detail, he’d have my head if I…”
You swallowed.
“The districts? But… why? I don’t-”
“Tigris, lovely to see you, it’s been so long.” A male voice interrupted, and you quickly excused yourself, slipping away to let the two of them talk.
After mulling it over in your head and making small talk with a few more guests, you snuck out of a side door and into the hallways, winding upstairs until you were finally met with Snow’s bedroom door. The sound of voices and music a mere echo below you, you pushed tentatively, and stepped inside. It was strange, being in there alone, for the first time since he’d turned you away. But you paced the floor, looking for something, anything, that would answer the questions you had. Why the districts? Why couldn’t Tigris tell you what had happened there?
Glancing back at the door, you began thumbing through his closet, peeking inside drawers. You’d already given his room a once over, but you worked more meticulously this time, every corner you unsuccessfully turned over only fuelling your curiosity. You walked around the room again, getting frustrated.
You headed back to the door, scanning the place, and retraced your steps a third time. Knocking a little on cupboards and anything that appeared the slightest bit odd or out of place. It was a perpetually tidy room, neat as ever, save for the desk which contained folders you were sure weren’t for your eyes, but that didn’t stop you. You kept on, trying your best not to leave any stone unturned, and most importantly, trying not to move anything out of place.
Eventually, you moved to the smaller desk drawers again, rifling through them haphazardly, annoyed by the lack of evidence you were finding. One of the two drawers had very little inside it, just a pencil and a pocket dictionary, and as you pushed your hand further inside to feel for anything else, you noticed it felt smaller than the first. Shallower. When you knocked, it was hollow.
It had a false bottom.
Your father used to keep his cigars beneath one of these when you were growing up, so you knew what to look for. You felt around the edge until you touched a small, metal handle, then emptied the drawer, hooked your fingers into the handle and pulled. You frowned at first, there was less in the hidden compartment than there was above it. But you peered inside, and there lay two items: an old photograph, and a silver dog tag.
Suddenly, it all made sense. His efficiency, his drive, his orderliness.
Military. The districts. The dog tag.
You unfolded the photograph, caked in a layer of dust, and it hit you like a ton of rocks.
Coriolanus was a peacekeeper.
But why? When? And why keep it a secret?
In the photograph, his hair was buzzed, and he was in a uniform you recognised immediately; if only because of the annual reaping ceremony shown in every building in the Capitol. He was standing next to a boy with dark hair, also buzzed. You recognised him as Sejanus Plinth, you’d never met the kid but you’d been to his funeral with your family, and had seen enough pictures to know.
You knew that the Plinth family had backed Coriolanus’ education, that he became their new heir, a protégé of sorts, but not that he’d been friends with their son. Not that they’d been this close, at least. They weren’t smiling in the photo, stood pin straight and alert in what looked like barracks.
You folded the photograph and placed it back where you found it. Your hands lingered on the dog tag, though, despite the logical side of your brain screaming at you to put it back, leave the room and pretend you didn’t see this. But the louder part egged you on as you pulled it out of the drawer, examining the engraved words, running your hands over the name SNOW and, further down, DISTRICT 12.
You’d heard bedtime stories from your mother while growing up, about the war, the Hunger Games and why they existed, and why it was never safe to set foot in the districts, not even the richer ones.
They’re beneath us, she’d said. They’re dangerous. Barbaric. And 12 was notoriously the poorest, most dangerous of them all.
Coriolanus had now become more of an enigma to you than ever before, and a thousand new questions flooded your head.
You closed the drawer halfway, holding the chain, pulling out a chair in front of the mirror to sit down. You turned the tag over in your hands, as if it would start giving you the answers, if only you looked hard enough.
Why was he sent to 12? Why couldn’t he talk about it?
Despite the conditions Snow grew up in, there was respect behind his family name. It didn’t make sense why someone of his social standing and education would leave to be a peacekeeper, of all things, and in 12, of all places. A strange sort of pity filled you, wondering what he could’ve seen out there. What he could’ve done. It all drew you in as you got lost in a world of what ifs.
Despite yourself, you pushed your hair from your neck, and as if in a trance, wrapped the chain around it. It fell heavy and cold against your skin, sending a chill through your bones. You were so busy staring down at it, so lost in thought that you barely noticed the sound of the door pushing open. Or the floorboards lightly creaking. Or his reflection in the mirror. You didn’t notice any of that, until the door swung shut with a bang.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Coriolanus had had a long day, most of which he’d spent simmering over work and you. He’d kept his eye on you that evening; on the way you’d thrown yourself into Tigris’ arms, and talked, transfixed, and he hated not knowing what was being said. A strange feeling set in as he saw the two of you get deeper into conversation from the other side of the large room, a deep-seated uneasiness stirring him up as he drowned out the tales of his associates’ incompetence. It felt like a breath of relief when he sent someone your way to interrupt whatever talk you were having, pretending that Tigris had been looking for him earlier. He focused on your brief tour of the room when the distraction worked, eyes flitting around like you were preoccupied.
When he saw you dart away from the ballroom and up one of the stairwells, he followed you as soon as he got the chance.
He’d wondered if you might act up today, but this wasn’t what he was expecting. When he saw you, the all too familiar glint of silver around your pretty neck, something shifted in him. Something he’d done a very, very good job of keeping at bay during his first few years of presidency.
Rage.
Your eyes met his in the mirror.
“Coriolanus, I-”
His hands were on you before you could finish your sentence, hauling you out of the chair, fingers wrapped in a death grip around your arms, squeezing as he pushed you to the wall with a satisfying thud.
“What, you can explain? I highly doubt that.”
“I’m sorry, I just-” You gasped as he squeezed tighter, gripping your wrists.
“Do you even know what this means?” He seethed, dog tag pressed between his fingers, chain pulling at your neck.
The forest. The birds. The gunshots that deafened him for weeks.
“I didn’t know… I’m sorry. I never knew you were a peacekeeper, Coryo, I-” He flinched, saw the way you winced the second it passed your lips.
Snow may have been cold, but his eyes were fire. And you were only stoking it.
“So I’m Coryo now? Who the fuck told you call me that? Was it Tigris? I saw you talking to her, don’t lie to me.”
“No.” You shook your head. “She didn’t tell me anything, I promise. Please. It was just me.”
He moved in closer, eclipsing you altogether, grip on the chain so tight he was certain you’d be able to feel it pinching the back of your neck, digging a mark into your flesh. He let the sadistic part of his brain take delight in it, in the way your eyes widened, face pleading.
Whatever this game was between you, you’d gone too far this time.
“How did you find this?” He snapped.
You were crowded against the wall, unable to move. Tears started to brim, and you didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure you could. You just shook your head over and over, repeating I’m sorry like a broken record.
“Take this off. Now. Take it off.” He ordered, dropping it back to your chest, stepping away a little so you could lift your shaking arms over your head, removing the chain. He snatched it from you, gripping it in his palm, looking down at it, and you breathed out in relief.
“I didn’t mean to… I was just looking. I had so many questions. I didn’t know what I’d find.”
“And? Are you fucking satisfied now?” His voice chilled you to the bone as he looked up at you again.
You shook your head. Apologised again. Wished you could apologise in any way that would matter, but it was too late. You’d never been more afraid in your life, anticipating what might happen, remembering echoes of rumors you’d heard, of Snow poisoning his enemies, of sending them to hang. Some you knew to be true, but others you boiled down to rebel gossip.
Now, you weren’t so sure. These were the eyes of a man who’d dropped his mask, and it was like staring into a dark void. You could get lost in it, and never find your way back.
“Please. Don’t… I won’t tell anyone, I promise. You can trust me.”
He scoffed.
Stupid girl. Hadn’t you learned by now, that trust meant nothing?
“Like I trusted you in here? I don’t think so. Can’t believe you had me feeling sorry for you. Probably just made it up so you could lower my guard then turn around and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“I didn’t, Coriolanus, I swear.” You pleaded. You were crying, tears slipping down your cheeks.
“I’ve been very patient with you, little girl. But this is where I draw the line. You have no idea how far you’ve pushed me. And you don’t even realise it, you’re so caught up in your little crush. Do you know how easy I’ve been going on you? The things I’ve let you get away with… I’ve killed people for much less.”
“You’ve…” You trailed off, barely hearing your own words, barely processing a thing. He laughed, low and dark.
“Does that scare you, sweetheart? Does it make you afraid?”
Eyes frozen open, you just stared. You felt your jaw go slack.
“Good.”
Coriolanus toed an invisible line, one that had never been crossed before. You wanted him to show you he wanted you? Fine.
He looked down at the chain wrapped around his fist, but he didn’t pocket it, or place it to the side. He unwound it, and slowly pulled it over his own neck.
Your eyes dropped to where it sat in stark contrast, heavy and shining, garish against his fancy dress shirt. You felt your blood run cold.
“Get on your knees.” You heard him say. Your eyes darted back up.
“What?”
When he spoke, it sounded like someone else was talking. Someone you didn’t know at all.
“You heard me. Get on your fucking knees. Right now.”
What could you do? This was what you’d wanted. Just… not like this. Not when your hands were shaking in fear, and you had no idea what this Coriolanus was capable of.
Your head said yes; your heart wept. But you were far past listening to your sorry heart.
So, you obeyed. Legs all but giving in as you lowered yourself to the ground, knees meeting cold hardwood as the chill cut through your dress.
His fingers slipped under one of the straps.
“Take this off, baby.” He murmured, distant, like he wasn’t all there. Your head hung in shame, eyes on his feet as you pushed the straps from your shoulder, top half of the dress falling down. You heard his zipper slide down, and you shivered. No longer sure if it was in fear or anticipation.
“Head up. Look at me. Good,” he said, when you obliged, “now let’s see what this pretty mouth’s really good for, shall we?”
More tears welled up as his hand brushed your jaw, hooking a thumb to your bottom lip, pushing your mouth open. You couldn’t help the way your tongue grazed over it, tasting salt, whining when you realised it was the taste of your own tears. When your eyes fell open again, you finally caught a look at him, hard and tip weeping, and your brain filled with nothing but want, eclipsing your fear for a mere second, enough to bring Coriolanus to the ground again. He may have done terrible, unspeakable things, but he was still a man. A man who wanted you.
And why did that make your heart beat out of your chest? It thrummed like a hummingbird as you took in the sight of him, unbuttoning his shirt as he waited for you to move.
You’d seen how big he was from a distance. You’d felt him between layers of fabric, and you’d imagined this a million times over. But now, as he stood waiting in front of you, you hesitated, because it all finally felt real. Your mouth watered despite yourself, seeing the mess he’d already made, any more and he’d start dripping -
“Go on, sweetheart. It’s not gonna suck itself.”
Your eyes squeezed shut as you let him past your lips. The heady taste of precum filled your mouth as you ran your tongue along the shaft slowly, trying to start steady. He wasn’t having it. His hand twisted through your hair, pulling you in closer, making you gag a little. You instinctively lifted a hand up to his thigh to brace yourself, and he laughed.
“Giving up so soon? Thought you’d try harder than that.”
He pushed further, and the indignant sound you made as you adjusted only served to spur him on.
You tried to focus on breathing through it, but he slipped in and out your mouth unevenly, and faster than you could think, catching you off guard. He looked down at the way your mouth struggled to take his length as if you were a piece of art, like he was mesmerised by it, and that feeling was encouragement was enough to keep you going. His hand twisted harder in your hair, making a fist, and he swore when you hummed in discomfort.
“Look at you.” He said, strung-out and shaky. “You strut right in here from your silver spoon life, and think you can call the shots? You’ve bitten off more than you can chew, sweetheart. You have no fucking idea what the world is really like. What people are like. What they have to do to survive.”
He moved faster, and you let your jaw go slack. You were barely moving now, he was starting to fuck your throat like he owned it. You’d started to cry again, and when you looked up at him, it was a blur. The furthest you could see was his chest, shirt unbuttoned and falling to the sides, and the dog tag, silver catching in the low light, swinging against his chest as he moved. You closed your eyes again, trying to go somewhere else in your head. Trying to breathe through your nose, to focus on being used, on how good you were making him feel, on finally being his. It was all you had left to hold on to.
But he was unwinding you with his words, knowing just where to press to make it sting, to make the tears fall harder.
“You don’t have any fucking shame about it either. Touching yourself on my bed and wearing my clothes, like you’re – fuck, that’s it - like we’re married or something. Like you’re worth more than everyone else. But look at you. Maybe you were right after all. Maybe you are my whore.” he gritted out.
Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried desperately to catch your breath between sobs.
“I mean, you sure look like it now, on your knees for me, making a mess of your pretty face. So fucking good. You’re sucking me off better than she did, and you’re barely even trying.”
You hated it. Hated the way his thumb brushed painfully gently against your cheek, dusting away a tear as his cock bruised the back of your throat and you tried not to gag around him. Hated the way his words twisted around in your head, and how fucked up it was that your broken brain took it as praise instead of punishment.
Most of all, you hated the throb between your shaking legs, panties soaked through and probably ruined. Humiliation seeped through you as you imagined it dripping down your legs and onto the floor. Your salty tears spilled down your face, mixing with your spit and his precum. Hating every second, until your head went blank, and you didn’t feel much of anything anymore.
You weren’t sure exactly how it happened.
One second, he was pulling your hair, twitching in your mouth and spilling down your throat, and the next, in what felt like a flash, you were on the floor, loud, wrecked sobs spilling out of you as you held your knees to your chest, face hidden. He was on the floor too - when did he get down? - and his voice was soft, oh so soft and gentle, saying something you couldn’t quite make out, dull and repetitive past your ringing ears.
“- so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I know I - I didn’t… I took it too far. Can you hear me, sweetheart? Look at me. Please, look at me. I’m right here.”
You pulled your head from your hands, and through blurred eyes, you looked at him.
This wasn’t a face you’d seen on him before. His brows knitted, lips apart as he stared at you, like you were some wounded animal he wanted to save.
“Talk to me, sweetheart. Please.”
“I can’t…” You trailed off.
“You can tell me.”
Another wave of choked back sobs took over you. He held your jaw up like you were something breakable. Like maybe you’d broken already, and he was holding you together.
“I can’t do this.” You whispered. “Not like-”
He nodded, brushing a tear from your cheek.
“Okay. It’s okay, baby. Tell me what I can do for you. Just say the word.”
You caught your breath, and he flinched a little as you collapsed into his arms. The cool metal of the dog tag pressed into your cheek.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You cried.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t realise how far I’d pushed you until… I know I can’t make it up to you, but I’ll try. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. If you want to leave, I understand. I’ll make the arrangements.”
“What? No, that’s not…”
He cut you off, looking into your eyes.
“Decide tomorrow, okay doll? You don’t have to think about that now.”
“I didn’t know about… about the districts.” You hiccupped. “About you. You didn’t want me to know. I ruined everything, I-”
“Listen to me. It doesn’t matter anymore, I promise you. It’s okay, baby.”
You nodded into his chest.
“Here.” He leaned away from you, and you looked up in a question. He took the chain from his neck and placed it in your palm.
“You can have it. So long as nobody sees. You can throw it away, wear it around the house, whatever you want. It’s yours.”
You pressed it between your fingers. It cooled your hot skin like a salve.
“Thank you.” You whispered. Your head sank back onto his chest, and when you spoke again, it was barely audible.
“Coryo?”
He tensed for a second, but relaxed again just as quickly.
“Yeah?”
“Can I stay with you tonight?”
His hand brushed gently against your hair, and you relaxed into it.
“Of course you can.”
a/n: baby's first dubcon scene!! (screams cries and throws up bc navigating that was scary as fuck) p.s one more chapter left!! do we think they'll get their shit together?? who knows!! (i know)
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#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus snow#tom blyth#tbosas#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#tom blyth x reader#tom blyth x you#snow x reader#snow x you#attention#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus x you#the hunger games#x reader#x you smut
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You Snooze You Lose
3.9k words
Summary: you're just about to give up on the dating scene altogether, so who better than your neighbor friend to show you how good dates usually end? can you tell this is my favorite trope
Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader (can be interpreted as older!Eddie)
Warnings: piercedtongue!Eddie, softdom!Eddie, mention of reader having an awkward date, alcohol (both consume but they're not drunk), Eddie refers to reader as princess/pretty and reader is afab but pronouns and clothing style is up for interpretation, Eddie picks up reader, thigh riding, choking, brief weed mention, fingering, oral sex, singular biblical reference?? (not counting someone saying 'oh god' or something of the like, kinda vague i think it'll probably go over a lot of people's heads), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling (eddie receiving), mentions of voyeurism, reader begs a lot a lot a lot, unprotected sex and creampie (this is fiction, wrap it before you tap it), nipple play, panty sniffing and stealing, scratching (eddie receiving), Eddie's mouth (however you're interpreting this the answer is yes), heaps of praise, sprinkle of dumbification, squirting, Eddie is a pleasure dom through and through, let me know if I missed anything
While reading, I recommend you listen to the altar is my hips - a Spotify playlist by me!
~
Your head fell back against the car, inhaling deeply and heaving a long sigh that devolved into something of a groan. Your social battery was impossibly drained.
You had just come from another pitiful excuse of a date, someone from work that a mutual friend had set you up with. It wasn't a total disaster, but it didn't leave you with butterflies either. But you were home now, so you could forget about the experience for the timebeing.
A voice calling your name pulled you from your thoughts. It was one you recognized immediately as your next door neighbor, Eddie. When your eyes located him you saw him sauntering out of his open garage towards your driveway, beer in one hand and jean pocket over the other. His chunky boots set in stone his walk, so casual and powerful, and oh god he's right in front of you now.
"You must be doing some serious thinking out here," Eddie chuckled, leaning on your car opposite you. "Either that or there's more to that tree than meets the eye because you've been staring at it for the last five minutes."
You chuckled back at him. "You've been watching me?"
"With a face like that, it'd be a crime not to."
There it was again. That little game you and Eddie played. Even from your first day in the neighborhood Eddie welcomed you with his abrasive charm and an open invitation to his services on a car. Which he seemed to exercise often- his garage door was often open during the afternoons, blasting music as he sat under his car doing god knows what. He never failed to wave and wink at you as you pulled into the driveway every day as you came home from work.
As you became more accustomed to him, your friendship evolved into frequent Friday night hangouts, sitting on the ground in the living room with a six pack talking about anything and everything.
You hated to admit it, but it didn't take long for your cheeks and ears to start to get embarrassingly red in front of Eddie, especially when your conversation topics became more, well, intimate. Whether or not he'd picked up on it, you didn't know- nothing had ever come of your little crush; you'd been content to leave that between you and your vibrator.
"Kid? Y'alright?"
There you go again. You shook your head, blinking a few times before shooting him an apologetic smile.
"Yeah, sorry."
"You seem a bit on edge. Wanna talk about it?"
You shrug. "It's nothing, really. Just got home from a date."
"Assuming it didn't go well?"
"It wasn't bad, it just- I don't know, it felt forced."
Eddie hummed, nodding lightly. "I hear ya. Tell y'what, take ten to get settled and let me clean up, then come over, we'll break out a couple of bottles and you can tell me all about it, yeah?"
"Sounds great," you agreed, and Eddie gave you a playful salute before sauntering back to his own driveway- which you may or may not have watched for a little too long.
Once you'd changed into more casual attire, you took the short walk down the street to Eddie's house. By this time, the sun was half set, and his garage had been shut, the only evidence that someone was home being the lights on in the kitchen.
"There you are. Was starting to worry," Eddie grinned at you as soon as the door swung open. You noted a flash of silver behind his teeth as his tongue swiped against his side teeth, and the tickling in your lower gut a moment later.
"Aw, you worry about me?"
“All the time, sweetheart,” the man flashed a grin, stepping aside to welcome you inside. "So, what's gotcha down?"
You heaved a groan, plopping onto his couch. "It's such a long story, I'm not even sure I have it in me to tell the whole thing. But he treated me like one of the guys. I mean, I want us to be friends too, but..." you clicked your tongue and sighed, words escaping you.
Meanwhile Eddie just watched you, arm slung over the back cushion across from you on the other side of the L of the couch. His beer bottle rested on his knee, balanced by his hand. "You wanted to be romanced."
"Yeah, I guess so. He didn't even make sure I got to my car safely."
Eddie's eyed widened, head cocking in disbelief. "Are you kidding?" When you shook your head no, he flung his hands in the air. "That's not even romantic! I do that for my friend's kids I drive around because I don't want them getting kidnapped!"
"I know, I know. That's not even the worst part."
Eddie scoffed. "What could possibly be worse?"
"Let's just say I know more about his bowel happenings than I would like to."
Eddie wrinkled his nose, sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Yeah, y'know princess, I get the feeling he's not your soulmate." He set his bottle down with a clink on the wood, running his hands up his thighs. "Man, even I could do better."
Something in your stomach turned over at the thought. Eddie seemed to notice your change in demeanor, however slight, and set his bottle down.
"Could you?"
Although it was after a few long, heavy seconds, the words escaped you faster than your brain could process them. Eddie's eyebrows twitched in something mixing amusement and bewilderment.
"I could," he mused. You swore that when he shifted his legs opened a little bit wider. "'Least your night wouldn't end complaining to a friend over a beer."
"Oh yeah? How would my night have ended?"
Eddie cocked a brow, lips curling.
You tilted your head to the side, eyeing him. Another long, heavy moment settled between you two, where you sat staring at one another.
Then your mouth moved of its own accord.
"Show me."
Slowly, so slowly, Eddie stood. sauntered over to where you sat. He watched you like a hawk, mischievous eyes captivating yours. A single, calloused hand reached out to your jaw, tilting it up a bit so that you were facing him. Eddie's mouth quirked up at the new sight.
"Y'want me to show you how your night should've ended, princess?" He crooned. You nodded dumbly, earning another chuckle. "Show you how you deserve to be treated, hm?"
Before you could give a response, Eddie's mouth was on yours, slow and deliberate and relaxed, seeming to simultaneously pull tension from your bones and set your skin on fire. Your fingers reached for his jacket, tugging him closer. Eddie gripped the couch back behind you to hold his weight, other hand coming to cup the back of your neck, slinking into your hair. His thumb rested on your pulse, smirking a little when he felt it racing.
"Pretty thing," he murmured in between hot kisses, "are you sure about this?"
"So sure, Eddie, please," you breathed, tugging his jacket off; the leather was cool to the touch, nice on your searing fingertips.
You could feel his mouth quirk up at your desperation. The hand that held the couch came down to your legs, lighting fire in their wake and finding the crook under your knee, tugging outwards. Heat brewed in your core at the implication- fueled even more so when Eddie pulled back with a grunt to tug his jacket away. Your eyes seemed to be locked in on his, somehow darker and lit with something primal. His kiss-bitten lips hung open in a lazy grin.
"C'mere, pretty." Eddie's hands grip your thighs with a searing mix of worship and need, pulling them apart and tugging you towards the end of the couch by the crooks under your knees. You let out a squeak, breaking quickly into a stifled hum of pleasure as his mouth found and made quick work of your neck, kissing and nipping and licking with that damn ball of metal down the front of your throat, hands splaying over your thighs appreciatively all the while.
"Eddie," your voice had risen into a near whine, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. All thoughts were clouded with his storm- his breath fanning your jaw, warmth radiating onto your body, almost chest to chest, hands teasing dangerously high.
"Hm?"
"Please, please Eddie..." you weren't sure what you were asking for, really, you just knew you wanted more of him. However he would give himself to you you would gladly take.
"Please what? Y'know I'm all yours, honey, I'll give you everything you want and then some but I can't help you if I don't know what that is."
"More," you huffed, reaching for his wrists.
"More?" Eddie teased; the condescending lilt in his tone was overwhelmingly obvious, but in your frenzied state you only nodded limply. Your hand tugged at his, and he followed your lead as you dragged his hand towards your neck, pressing at the back of his hand to indicate what you wanted him to do.
"Oh? Princess likes choking, huh?" The excitement in Eddie's voice was hardly containable, but he managed to play it off cooler than how he really felt- like a dog who just heard dinner being poured into his bowl. "That is interesting."
Eddie's grip on your neck wasn't really that strong, but it made your head spin nonetheless, eliciting a weak, content noise from you.
"There we go, fuckin' love hearing that." Eddie gave a kiss to your cheek, his other hand occupied with sending shock waves down to your gut as his fingers walked up the back of your leg. "What else does princess want, hm?"
You only let out a whine, too engrossed with the building, unbearable heat in between your legs, which, at the sound of his nickname, twitched further open.
Lucky for you, Eddie picked up on that immediately. "Aw, sweet thing, shoulda told me." He tuts, moving both hands under you and rearranging the two of you so that your crotch was hovering over his thigh, other leg hooking onto yours so that you were spread open for him.
"Here we go honey, y'wanna use my leg, hm? Get yourself off?" His words were muffled by the skin of your shoulder.
Realistically you knew you wouldn't be able to orgasm from dry humping his thigh alone, but God you were so eager for friction you were willing to try. You whimpered an 'mhm', setting yourself down on his leg- even that small touch made you gasp. Eddie's hands reached for your ass, helping you grind down onto him, nearly knocking the breath out of you when the contact you so desperately craved turned into a wildfire of need.
"That's it, sweetheart, keep going. 'S'it feel good? Yeah?" He mimicked your whimper of response, proud grin never faltering, even as he nipped at your jaw. His hands, firm, surprisingly gentle for how rough and calloused they felt, traveled from your ass to your waist, fingertips slinking under the hem of your shirt.
"Can we take this off, princess? Want to see you, pretty please let me see you." His voice was low and sultry and had goosebumps rising on your back. You whined an 'mhm', the thought of what he was going to do when you were topless spurring you to pull it over your head yourself.
Once your chest was bared to him, Eddie's hands, trailing lightly enough to tickle, found your poor, sensitive nipples, thumbs brushing over them enough to make you jolt, gasping in surprise.
"Eddie, Eddie- fuck, more, need more, please," you cried, hand flying to his hair when his head dipped to lick over your chest. Whether it was to tug him away or keep him there, you didn't know.
"Aw, I know, you're just insatiable, aren't you?" Eddie gave you his best faux sympathetic voice, and for a minute you actually thought he might feel sorry for you, like it wasn't his plan all along to get you worked up like this.
Eddie's hands worked under your legs, pulling you closer to him before hoisting you up, stomping somewhere in the house you'd only visited a handful of times and never under this circumstance- his bedroom.
It was a dimly lit room, smelling faintly of weed, but you weren't given much time to take in the sights because Eddie plopped you down on his bed, immediately towering over you, caging you in with his arms. His curls tickled your face, then your neck when he moved there. A few sloppy kisses quickly turned heated again when his leg wedged itself between yours. You took the opportunity, however fleeting, to rut yourself against the material.
But this time Eddie gripped your hips, pinning you down. "Patience honey, I'm getting there." The glint of warning in his eyes had you nearly shaking in excitement. A glimmer inside of you wondered what he'd be like if you ignored his warnings.
Eddie slithered down, slowly, kissing his way down to your navel. You willed your hips to stay down, not to lean into his touch, but they did anyway. Your eyes fell shut, head falling back and fingers finding the pillow for something to weakly grip onto.
But a tap on your hipbone snapped them open, looking down at a pair of big brown eyes staring up at you, hovering over your cunt. Knowing what he was asking, you responded with lifting your hips, making it easy for Eddie to slip your bottoms down Your phone nearly fell out of your back pocket from the force with which he flung them, as if he detested the fabric for its audacity to cover you up.
"Good, doing so good." Eddie gave your thighs a squeeze, smiling up at you with something a little kinder, more endearing than the smirk he'd donned the whole evening. With another squeeze, his head dipped down close to your clothed cunt. You swore you could hear him inhale, but your train of thought was halted when Eddie licked a fat stripe up the front of your underwear, sending shocks to your already hypersensitive clit.
"God- fuck!" You tried to clap a hand over your mouth, but Eddie tugged it away as quickly as it came.
"Y'doin' alright, princess? You seem a little tense." Eddie's teasing lilt came from somewhere under you, you could see the grin even through closed eyes. You opened them anyways. His smile was turned into something more playful, a glimpse of the boyish humor he always charmed you with. His head leaned against your thigh like a puppy, pouting up at you with false concern.
"Wonder fuckin' why," you gritted through your teeth, throwing your head back in exasperation.
"Easy tiger," Eddie chuckled, fingers pulling your underwear down- this time you definitely heard an inhale. You heard him mutter something along the lines of "saving these for later."
Eddie's fingers were quick to find you again, thumbs brushing over the joint between your thighs and your pussy, as if he thought the action was soothing and not setting you on fire.
You let out a strangled sound. "Eddie, I swear, if you don't fucking touch me-"
"You'll what?" Eddie's brow raised. His gaze alone made any snide remark die on your tongue.
As if on cue, your phone, long forgotten on the edge of your bed, lit up with an incoming call.
"Well?" Eddie prompted. You reached for the phone, seeing the absolute last name you cared to see illuminating the screen. You gulped, a tinge of guilt seeping in.
"Ah, I think I know who it is." Eddie chuckled, forehead knocking into your thigh as he made a poor attempt to hide his thorough amusement. "Well? Y'gonna answer it?"
You paused, made a face. You didn't even want to talk to him, really.
Eddie barked out a laugh at your reaction. "Shame. He could've learned a thing or two."
You giggled, but it quickly turned into a loud moan as Eddie's tongue, followed by that damn metal ball in the middle, began teasing circles over your clit. Somehow you were both infinitely relieved and worked up even more. Your phone was long forgotten, flung a little too far as, somewhere in the back of your brain, you heard it clatter on the wooden floor. Not that you could be brought to care, not with the way Eddie's tongue felt tracing your weeping hole.
"Fuck, all this for me? Sweet thing, if I knew how good this pretty pussy was sooner." You wondered momentarily what the end of that sentence was, but with his lips around your clit you weren't too worried. Ceaseless and electric his mouth was, bringing you slowly but surely towards that high you'd been chasing fervently for an hour now.
"Eddie, Eddie, I'm gonna- fuck! So good, Eddie, I'm gonna come, pleasepleaseplease-" You could barely understand yourself speak, so lost in your cloud of pleasure. But Eddie seemed to understand perfectly, cooing sweet praises into your cunt as he shook his head back and forth.
"Gonna cum, princess? Go on, you've earned it. Been so good, so patient f'me. Good, good, let go." He pulled both of your hands towards your lower stomach, interlacing them with his.
The noises you made as you unraveled under his marvelous touch were downright pornographic, downright sinful. One might be tempted to say you'd forgotten how to blush, but the heat in your cheeks would have shot down the theory. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, pulling pure electric heat from your sex as you writhed and shivered from Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.
But when the pleasure subsided into jolts, Eddie didn't stop. His tongue continued tracing your clit languidly, and- oh- a new sensation at your core had you squeezing his hands.
"Eddie, ohmygod-" Quickly you realized what he was doing, one finger prodding around your entrance before sinking into your embarrassingly wet cunt, which welcomed him. Your back arched when his finger curled, a guttural sound ripping from your throat as he pushed deeper, searching for that spot, the one that would ensure a noise complaint from a few neighbors.
"Shh, you're okay, you're doing so well, hm? So well, yeah, relax- just like that." Eddie hummed, another finger joining the first and a high-pitched moan from you following shortly after.
And then he found it. That damn spot deep in your gut, and he bullied it with his fingertips over and over and over again.
"Eddie!" His name fell from your mouth like a hymn, moans almost swallowed by the pillow you tugged to cover your face when the brief thought of the neighbors made you a slight bit guilty. Your second orgasm of the night was coming at you full steam ahead, much easier to find from your oversensitivity as well as the new sensation that joined his thumb swiping over your clit.
"That's it, princess, give me another. G'na get you nice and ready, yeah?" Ready for what, you had an idea that sparked, if possible, even more delicious heat in between your legs.
You were animalistic at this point, nearly screaming for him to make you come again. You almost sobbed when his fingers pulled out from you, hands reaching weakly for him.
"Easy, easy, I know. Gonna make it worth your wait, mm? You want my cock, sweet thing?"
Your mouth salivated at the mention, and you immediately propped up onto your elbows to watch him line himself up with you.
"Please, Eddie, please," you sighed, head lolling back.
And there it was, that delicious stretch that had your mind reeling and fingernails digging into Eddie's inked shoulders.
"Oh, oh oh, so good, so good, Eddie, right there!"
Your hands were grabbing for every bit of him you could find. Tugging his hair, scratching down his back, pulling his neck down into a searing, heavy-breath kiss.
"Fuck, princess, keep clenching and I won't last." Eddie grunted into your mouth. His hand, previously pressing onto your lower stomach, pulled your legs so that your ankles rested over his shoulders, bending down a little so that he could move deeper, and did it have you seeing stars.
"Keep- ah- keep going, please, 'm gonna cum, gonna- Eddie!"
Your cunt convulsed around Eddie's cock, throbbing inside of you as you felt white-hot release wash over you. You sobbed into Eddie's pillow, chanting his name as he overwhelmed you with praise. Eddie fucked you through it as best he could, but you could feel he was slowing down, spurts of wet heat in your gut moments later.
"Oh, baby... didn't know you could do that." Eddie was grinning like an idiot, incredulous grin staring down at his thighs. Dizzy, you looked down where he was staring like he just won the lottery.
His thighs were splattered with what you could only guess was your own arousal, even a few drops on his stomach.
"Oh my god," you flopped your head back, hand covering your eyes and trying to cover your embarrassed smile.
"Hey, that was hot." Eddie pulled your hand away, giving you that same sweet smile, squeezing your thigh before pulling himself out. You winced at the feeling, guilt following as you realized his sheets were definitely soiled.
You let out a long exhale, mind still racing. Eddie, having tucked himself into a new pair of pants, watched you. When he concludes you've had a moment to sit and think, he strokes your arm.
"Hey, cutie. You alright there?"
"Uh huh."
Eddie chuckled at the stupid smile you're sure you wore. "C'mon, gotta get you cleaned up."
"Yeah- sorry about your sheets."
Eddie pursed his lips, shrugged. "It was worth it, don't you think?" You attempted to stand, but Eddie held up a hand. "Allow me."
Eddie carried you into his bathroom, seating you carefully onto the toilet before excusing himself. He came back a moment later with your phone, wet wipes, and a glass of water.
You and Eddie fell into more casual conversation- the latter participant heavy on the cocky jokes- it was comforting. He'd offered you to stay the night; not like you hadn't conked out on his couch before anyways.
Brushing your teeth with your finger, you tapped your phone to check the time- and almost knocked it from the sink.
"FUCK." You nearly sprayed toothpaste foam all over Eddie's mirror, holding the phone inches from your face in case your vision had somehow failed you the first time.
"What, what what??" Eddie shouted from the shower, a bottle clattering on the tile shortly after.
You spat your foam out, coughing. You pulled the curtain open enough to push your phone into the shower to show him the time and name of your most recent call.
A pfft noise followed by loud cackling echoed off the tiles. "Oh shit! Y'think he got a show too, sure it wasn't FaceTime?"
Meanwhile you sunk your head into your hands in utter mortification.
Although a tiny part of you was laughing too.
~
Eddie Munson Masterlist
Stranger Things Masterlist
Main Masterlist
#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson#eddie fanfic#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x gn!reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson stranger things#stranger things fanfic#stranger things 4#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things#eddie stranger things
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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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rapper!connie first run in with fashionvlogger!reader was…interesting. you answered a question from a fan on twitter who asked if you could style one rapper who would it be? you replied saying, ‘connie springer, his music don’t match his style. he dressing like a regular hood nigga when he should be dressing like a bad bitch with a dark lair. pisses me off.’
eren snorted when he seen the tweet and sent it to connie. at first he was a little offended and was about to clean you right on up, but when he saw the comments agreeing??? he had to find out why your opinion mattered so much. so the the first thing he did was tap that instagram link. 550k followers. hmm. he seen that plenty of his celebrity mutuals followed you.
hollowsoul
followed by thegirljt, gunna, liluzivert and others.
when he tapped on your pinned photo he almost drooled at your beauty, your body, and the outfit you were wearing. you indeed had that shit on to the T. connie caught himself scrolling through your feed as his anemic ass shook ice into his mouth. you sure did have a love for all black outfits.
he taps on that message button and types in two words. ‘style me’
your phone lights up as you stir around the meat in the pan. you put your glass of wine down to pick up your phone.
instagram
new message
you tap on the notification and it takes you to the dm. you didn’t really have a shocked reaction, but you were surprised that he even bothered to to dm you. connie was semi private. he has moments where he’s very active on social media then he becomes a ghost.
‘sure long as your okay with me vlogging’
connie puts his cup of ice down beside his feet warning his dog, Choppo, to not touch before replying to you.
‘i don’t mind. you free on friday?’
‘i am’
ight let’s meet at the outlet mall on Lafayette @ 1 then. you mind if me, my friends, and security come?
okay sounds good and i don’t mind at all. see you on friday x
trust me you were less boring in person. connie was lacking in first impression as he was late to you guys shopping date.
you didn’t mind though, you were right in dior trying on sunglasses. “how these look y’all?” you ask your camera. “i don’t know they’re kinda cunt..” you say looking in the small mirror. you didn’t even notice connie and his crew walking in and walking towards you.
“i like them.”
you look behind you, seeing connie and his friends. connie took you in while you were distracted and you were better in person. you were in an all black outfit, of course, and you looked fucking beautiful.
“they’re cute right?” you smile looking up at the 6’1 FINE ass dominican man. one thing that also irritated you about connie’s style is that it doesn’t emphasize his face. connie face card was something different. He had beautiful features, hazel eyes, low lids, some pretty plump lips, and he was pulling off a buzz cut like david beckham in the 2000’s. not many people can do that.
“yeah, sorry I was late. had to drop my sister off to her dance practice.” connie says you wave him off, “oh I'm not worried about it. it gave me time to think of what stores i want to go to.” you say taking your glasses off. “hey it’s nice to meet y’all,” you said looking at the two men behind connie. eren and ony. they weren’t a group but they put out some collab albums. those albums were heat, and was always playing when you were working out or cleaning.
“we’re starting here by the way. can’t go wrong with dior. do you have a favorite fashion brand or designer?” you ask connie as you walked over to the men’s section.
“uhm nike?”
“nike..? you know what i’m just..i’m just going to pretend you didn’t say that.“ you say shaking your head in disappointment. ony was laughing to himself in the background cause he could hear it in your voice.
“what’s wrong with nike?” connie smiles as you picked up a dior sweater. “well first off all nike is a sports brand i’m talking about a fashion brand like rick owens, true religion, moschino.
“what’s a moschino?” connie scrunches his face and he was dead serious.
“do you know who jeremy scott is? law roach?”
“are these random white people?”
you looked at connie like he was a little lost baby, pouting your glossy lips. “aw you are so cute.” you pinch his cheek. “this is my favorite part. teaching you the ins and out of fashion.” you smile pushing an outfit into his chest. “go try this on.”
connie found out that you were a bossy little thing. if he didn’t like something, “oh well too bad you’re getting it anyways.” ony and eren enjoyed seeing him get bossed around as he was usually the demanding one in the studio. you had fun telling connie stuff about fashion and how to put together a good outfit.
connie left that outlet with a new wardrobe, friend, and crush. a very big crush that his friends noticed. the way connie blushed like some nerdy school boy every time you’d hype him up. you noticed as well and found it absolutely adorable.
“do that lil pose that you do. period!”
you enjoyed Connie's presence. He was a mix between laidback and hyper. like when he got comfortable around you, he got to cracking jokes. even joking you. picking up some ugly ass cowgirl boots and saying, “this looks like something you’d like.” and you’d just give him a little playful glare telling him to not play with you.
you left Connie with a homework assignment. learn how to use pinterest and make a pinterest board.
#just making up scenarios#whatever flows ig#aot x black reader#connie springer#aot smut#connie x black!reader#connie springer x black!reader#connie springer x y/n#black reader#connie x black reader#aot x reader#connie springer x black reader
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Goverment Hooker
dbf Joel Miller x f!reader ( Joel is a Security Guard )
Summary: Joel miller, your dad’s best friend is a security guard for celebrities. He takes you to one of his jobs as part of a university homework you need to do, but he let his guard down.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI ! No outbreak, Unprotected p in v, mutual masturbation, explicit smut, a lil dominant Joel, secret relationship, orgasm denial, edging, dirty talk, fingering, semi-public sex, very slight bondage ( hand tied up, can easily be freed if wanted),Age gap, DBF Joel because who doesn't like that tbh, reader is in her 20', No body description except outfit and gender, no outbreak, porn w/plot, fluff, kind of slowburn.
w/c: 6k ( i'm actually proud for a second time )
a/n: Second smut !! i'm so proud of this one it's wayyy longer than the first one i did and like 10 times better (crying). Also theres a fanart on the banner but when i found it on pinterest the artist wasnt tagged :((( so please if you know who it is please feel free to comment !! love you whoever is reading this <3
Thank you for reading <3 notes, comments and reblog are heavily appreciated !!
“I need to do this uh…homework” you chew on your food. Good, delicious, and steamy coming right out of the stove. “I have to go to one of you two’s job and make a report” you stab one of the peas in your plate.
“I mean I’d gladly take you but you know how boring my job is, huh? And your mom’s abroad” your dad says, rushing to eat his plate.
Your dad works a night job at an Amazon warehouse, something about packing orders, taking a box, putting wrapping paper and the object inside the box, taping it up, taking another box, putting wrapping paper inside, and bla bla bla…
Your mom, she’s an airplane pilot going around the world. She’s barely home but she always make sure to send you some well decorated cards with landscapes on them, or to ship some gifts like magnets, you love magnets, your fridge is full of it by now but you still getting excited every time a small box arrives home.
But like your dad said, you can’t possibly go with her.
“Maybe you should go with Miller, from across the street, remember him ?”
Of course you do, even though your dad and him didn’t meet for a long time like they used to. You kind of miss the nights around the barbecue where they would both laugh their ass off together, but now this barbecue is black and grey with dust of burnt charcoal that hasn’t been cleaned in a while.
You haven’t talked to Miller since the last time the three of you met for dinner. The only interaction you’d have with him now would only stop at a little wave from across the street and a “hey how you doing?” every once in a while when leaving the house.
“I mean why not…” you think. “What’s his job? We haven’t talked in a long time, wasn’t he in a contracting job or something like that ?” Your plate empty, you get up and pick up your plate along with your dad’s and put them into the dishwasher.
“ yeah… think he got some problems with his brother, and they were both fired for some reasons. Now I don’t know what he’s doing but he’s wearing black suits every morning when he leaves so maybe it’s a job interesting enough for you to work on it.” He sighs, like a dad sigh, and gets up from his chair, walking out of the room. “food was good honey” he smile.
That same night, your dad left for work while you’re in front of Miller’s door. The lights are on inside, it’s dim and gives a comforting vibe to his house which is quite unexpected for a man as rough and difficult as Mr. Joel Miller.
You knock on the hard wood of his door, kind of hesitant because why would you go see your neighbor for a homework based on your parents? You shake your head. Whatever, no one is going to know anyways.
The door open in a quick swift with a sudden smell of crackling fire and…roasted potatoes and meat?
“Hey Miller,” you greet looking into his eyes, brown and sleepy. “I’m sorry to bother you but I had a question quite important.”
He smile and nod “whatcha want kiddo’?”. You forgot his seductive accent, a while back it wouldn’t have the same effects that it has on you right now. You’re still a little hesitant to ask, afraid to bother him this late and during dinner.
“I have this homework I’m supposed to do on one of my parent’s job. I have to go with them for like a day and make a report, but my parents are too busy, and dad told me to ask you instead”
“Well, I’d gladly help you but uh, it’s quite early in’a mornin”
“That’s fine, I can get up early.” You smile at him
“Well now that you’re here,” he looks back to his kitchen, then back at you. “I got spare dinner here, wanna eat here so we can talk about this a little and maybe if you want…crash here for the night? The job has flexible hours so if I get a call earlier, I need ya to be ready.”
This was kind of unexpected, but you’re surprised, a good surprised.
“I’m down but I didn’t take any clothes with me. Honestly, I wasn’t sure you’d agree with this.”
You laugh it off, kind of embarrassed and a bit flustered.
“I’ll give you something to sleep in” he smiles.
Spending the night at his house, eating dinner with him. All these emotions, the butterflies in your stomach is all new. You never really thought about it, but hell Mr. Miller is kind of hot.
You’ve always dated guys your age. Some were good and some others disappointing, but you never thought of dating someone older and especially not this old or anyone being your dad’s best friend. The forbidden love that is so slowly and so suddenly growing in you. Why now? Why him.
You sit down at the end of the table. Joel’s in the kitchen preparing the food.
He brings the plates to the table, and he sit at your left, close to you. And you were right, it was potatoes and meat, and it was quite good compared to what you thought Joel was capable of and it’s quite pleasing to be eating this good.
After a while talking about your homework, how the day would most likely go and you daydreaming about how hot he is the more you look at him, he offers you to watch a movie before bed.
You both sit down and start watching this movie called Curtis and Viper 2, you’d figure it’s his favorite since he can’t stop going “oh look here” or “I love this scene” every once in a while.
After what feels like a hour, your eyes are slowly closing and before you realize, your head is on his shoulder. It was slowly falling with time, and by the look on his face he doesn’t seem to be too bothered about you getting so close to him.
“Wake up sweetheart” his voice is calm. You lift your head to follow the sound of his voice
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you like that,” you say while standing up. “I think I’m gonna take a shower before bed.”
You go upstairs and into the bathroom. It’s quite big and smells like colognes and 3 in 1 shampoo. You always feel weird taking a shower at other people’s house, scared someone might walk in so you cough loudly to let the whole house know someone’s in here.
You take a big towel for your body, a small one for your face and hair and hang them both on the dryer to make them warm for when you get out.
The water is hot and steamy, droplets hits your face like ashes from a fire and you’re hot but not just from the water. Your core keeps burning for him and it gets worst with time. You can’t stop thinking about him, His face, his body, his shirt showing every detail of his biceps, his veins going down his arm and hands, his calloused fingers from playing guitar touching you, feeling your body. Fuck. Too far.
You rinse the soap off your body and step out of the shower. The light is dim and making you even more sleepy than you already are. You put on whatever moisturizer Joel has in his bathroom filled with man products, breaking your skincare for one night won’t affect your skin too much.
Suddenly the door open. Maybe you should’ve fucking coughed instead of daydreaming like a teen.
Joel stops, his mouth slightly open in an “o” shape.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry sweetheart I should’ve knocked first,” he turns his head around as you quickly grab your towel from the floor and wrap it around you.
“ ‘forgot to give you clothes before you got in.” He hands you the clothes, his clothes, considering Sarah has left a long time ago.
“It’s okay you can look, I’m covered.” You say shyly. He turns back to you and unconsciously look you up and down without saying a word. You take the stash from his hands. “Thank you, I’ll be out in a minute” you smile.
You finish changing in his shirt, a too-big dark brown shirt with his name embroidered on the top right part, must be from his old job as a contractor. You figure you’d be better in your panties rather than the pants he gave you considering the weather and how warm it is in this house. You go back into the living room and start searching for a blanket to sleep in. Luckily one big enough to cover your body but not your feet is folded neatly in a drawer under the TV.
“Whatcha doin?” Joel goes down the stairs.
“Oh I’m just…getting my bed ready”
“There’s no way you’re sleeping here,” he says, in a commanding tone “Sarah’s room is my gym now, so you’ll sleep in my bed.”
You let out a muffled laugh “yeah like you’ll sleep on a damn couch with your broken back you old grandpa ?” He looks at you with a crooked smile, a little hurt since you called him a grandpa but your personality makes him smile.
“Yeah well what do ya suggest smartass ?”
You’re hesitant to even try to suggest it but hell if he doesn’t want you on the couch then you need to try other solutions no matter how embarrassing they can be.
“Then let’s both sleep in your bed.”
You both end up in his bed. It’s awkward, a lot, but at least it’s comfy. Joel is long fallen asleep while you twist and turn every few minutes trying so hard to sleep but something is keeping you awake, something deep down in your core. Joel turns and end up facing you, still sound asleep. You can’t help but look at him and all his features. His crooked nose, his wrinkles softer than when he’s awake. It makes you realize that he’s almost constantly frowning, giving him a mean gaze that could scare people that don’t know him personally. But here, now, he’s so soft and so different. Oh, and he’s shirtless. It’s distracting but you’re in panties, so it feels a bit more casual. His skin is slightly tanned, just the perfect kind of tanned at this time of the year, and it’s a good tan, a brown one not a tomato kind of tanned. Fuck, you need to sleep.
You turn around trying not to think about him and finally sleep, when you suddenly feel something against you. Joel moved closer, and he’s now wrapping his arm around your waist. Your breath stops for a second. It’s probably just a reflex from his body but he’s so warm, a good warm even though it’s hot under the sheets but you don’t want to wake him up.
The sensation in your core is growing, like an alien trying to come out of your stomach to eat you out.
“Fuck you Miller” you whisper.
You hear a phone buzz and it’s waking you up. Joel is still holding you but now he’s closer and you can feel something hard on your lower back. It makes you blush but no matter how hard you try, his arm is holding you tight and you can’t escape.
“Joel,” you shake his arm slowly. You hear him grumble. “Your phone is ringing”.
“Shit” he finally wakes up and it takes a few seconds for him to realize the position he’s in, and the way his body reacted to yours. “I’m so sorry, I uh… I have no excuse” he jumps out of the bed and takes his phone. He takes the call and leave the room. You check the clock. 5 a.m., you throw yourself back into the bed. “a C might’ve been better than this” you spit.
Joel comes back in the room after a few minutes.
“Just got a call, some job for us in a city nearby, you should get dressed” he leaves the room once again.
You put on the same clothes as yesterday, a black tank top with black shorts and some converse. You thought maybe dressing all black just like Joel’s uniform would make you look a bit more professional.
“You look stunning” Joel says, entering the room in a full black costume. It’s neatly ironed, not a single wrinkle in sight.
“Looking good too, Miller,” you walk towards him and tighten his tie a bit more.
He smiles “thanks angel”. Dammit, can’t he stop with the pet names, he’s going to make you blush.
“So, where are we going?” you tie your shoe laces in a tight ribbon
“I told ya’, a city a few minutes away from here. We’re taking my truck.”
You already took a trip in Joel’s truck when you were younger, but it was different, your dad was here to do the conversation and make things less embarrassing but now it’s a whole different situation. You still don’t know what to do with your feelings, should you tell him on the road? during the job? you can’t think straight with the small time of sleep you had.
You both hop into his truck; the weather is still quite hot for an early morning.
“How much time till we get there?” you buckle up and look at your phone.
“We got 20 minutes, you can put on some music if you want”
You connect your phone and put on some Arctic Monkeys on. You’re still debating if you should try to make a move on Joel because honestly, you’re starting to miss getting laid, and trying it out with an older guy would be fun.
But the fact that Miller is your dad’s friend makes it weird. Would he get along with it? Or would he just stop you the moment you put your lips on his?
Giving it a try won’t hurt considering you barely see him anyways so avoiding him won’t be too hard. Just no waving and no “Hi Mr. Miller” from across the street.
After like 5 minutes, Joel finally talks.
“Are you seeing anyone? Some guy from your school?” He lowers the volume of your music.
“No, why?” Here. Make a move. “Would you be jealous if I was?” you open the drawer in front of you and search for some candy, every sane people has some sweets in their car. You find a lollipop and unwrap it.
“ ‘twas just a question” he says as you put the lollipop in your mouth and lay your feet on the dashboard. He side eyes you and sigh.
“Well, no, no one’s interesting enough, I guess. Everyone is so focused on school; I haven’t seen a single person kiss another in the corridors or in some empty classes.”
You lick at your lollipop as you make eye contact with him. “Guess I should try older.” You smirk.
You see him adjust in his seat and taking a deep breath. He turns the volume back on to the song.
“How many secrets can you keep ?
‘Cause there’s this tune I found
That makes me think of you
somehow”
This song couldn’t be even more on point than now.
“What about you,” you ask, “You seeing anyone?”
“Not really, not really searchin’ for sum’ serious right now” he leans on the edge of his window, putting his hand into a fist to cover his mouth, he fidgets.
“So like… you just want sex?”
He chokes on his own saliva and coughs “What the fuck are you on about? Jesus “he spits “I mean, maybe, but I’m not actively searching or anythin’”
“You got any age preference?” You take a chance.
“Uh…No, not really” You turn to him, making your belt a bit longer so you can get comfortable.
“Would you fuck me?” You lick on your lollipop; it has become a small pink ball now with all the sucking and licking.
“Jesus girl, you’re my best friend’s daughter” he doesn’t even seem angry or annoyed at the question somehow.
“You didn’t say no though” you smile.
“Doesn’t mean I agree.”
“Okay but, imagine if I wasn’t, would you?” he keeps looking at your lips while you talk.
“You gotta learn how to walk before learning how to run, sweetheart”
“What if I wanna run though?” You say as his grip tightens on the wheel, his knuckles turning white.
You both arrive at a hotel Joel’s company booked before you two arrived. It’s a nice place, a 5 stars hotel. He must stay at the same hotel as the person he has to protect, obviously.
“They booked us…well, me, a single bedroom since it wasn’t really planned for you to come, so we’ll have to share a bed” Joel say
“Again” you smirk. He’s probably already annoyed by you, but he still hasn’t complain, you just assume.
“Come” her orders you, you follow him to the room.
It’s quite big, it has a double bed with dark burgundy sheets and pillows, a big shower along the right side of the room that is basically the size of a whole bathroom, there’s two showerheads and the walls are transparent, so yes, a few meters long shower. What for? No idea.
The toilets are on the other side of the room along with a double sink and a huge light up mirror and fancy soaps you will definitely steal. There’s windows and a balcony in the between with a fancy view on the city.
“We’re gonna have to sleep here tonight if that’s okay with ya’, we might come back home late, and the room is free so we should enjoy instead of going home.”
two nights in a row in the same bed as Joel wasn’t something you’ve planned but you’re not mad about it, to be honest. As long as your assignment is complete…hopefully.
“We got an hour before we have to leave,” he put his bag to the side of the bed. “You can sleep a bit if you want, try to take back the hours of sleep you lost.”
Wait? is he aware that you were awake? Did he grab you on purpose? There’s no way.
“I’m not really tired anymore,” you sit on the bed in front of Joel as he unbuttons his suit jacket. You look up at him and bite your lips. You’re praying inside that he doesn’t reject you, that he follows your movements.
“Well, ion’ know what else you could do besides wait here like a behaved girl” Fuck, was this intentional? If not, it still turned you on.
You have no idea what to do right now, unbuckle his belt, suck him off? Or tease him?
Tease him.
You stand up and start walking towards the huge transparent walls shower, taking off your clothes on the way. Once arrived in the shower, you stand under the showerhead, open the water hose, and turn around searching for Joel.
He’s looking at you with black eyes, devouring you with his hands on his hips.
“Fuck” he spits.
He hurries to unbutton his shirt and take his fancy well ironed pants off along with his boxer.
Oh.My.God.
Your heart has never raced this fast in your life. He’s so big and he’s not even hard yet, you wonder how you never notice it before.
He gets into the shower and stand right in front of you under the shower, the water dripping down his hair and the tip of his nose.
“I don’t know what the fuck ya’ want from me, but you’re tempting me you fucking tease” His word travel down your spine and reaches your core.
His hands slide down your side, reaching your panty line.
“You have an hour to choose if you want to have fun or if you wanna go get a snack and get ready to write your lil’ presentation about me” his face gets closer to yours as your back arches.
“What if I want you to be my snack?” You say, slightly touching the tip of his cock growing bigger the more he looks at you.
He takes your wrists and pin them above your head and hold them up with one of his hands as the other grip one of your breasts. His fingertips are slightly twisting your nipple as he brings his lips to yours, indulging in a dirty, filthy kiss being washed away by the water running down.
Your hand grabs his shaft, stroking it slowly. “You’re so dam’ teasing’, if your father finds out I’m making out with his daughter, I’m a dead man” he growls as your hand twist slightly when reaching the tip of his cock
“We can keep it secret.” You smirk
“You wanna be my dirty little secret, huh?”
You hear a phone ringing on the bed, but Joel turns your head back to him. “Leave it, they’ll call back.”
After a session of teasing and kissing in the too-big shower, the both of you come out of it all wet and steamy. Joel picks up a towel and wrap it around you. He takes another one, smaller, and dries your hair with it. He is so gentle even though you’ve been closed to him for a few hours only, the day before he would only see you as the daughter of your best friend that lives across the street, nothing more.
Joel walks to the bed and pick up his phone, his towel around his hips.
“Fuck!” He screams. “Boss called, the woman I was supposed to work for left earlier, we should’ve been gone by now” He put his clothes back on, muttering shit shit shit while doing so.
A black car with tinted windows comes out of the underground garage of the hotel and stops right in front of you.
“You’re in fucking trouble Miller” The driver guy said. He is big, his black vest almost merging into one with his muscles.
Joel opens the door for you and almost pushes you in.
“We’re ten minutes away from her, you better get yourself ready M” he says, hitting the gas.
You feel something on your thigh, crawling all the way from your knee to the base of your leg, Joel’s warm hands are touching you, slowly going towards your inner thigh.
“What are you doing?” you whisper. He gets closer to your ear while his hand finally touches your clit through your panties.
“You got me in trouble, made me lose my mind just so I could touch you,” He pulls your panties to the side and slide two fingers through your slit, wetting them just before entering your core with thick digits.
You struggle to keep your pleasure to yourself as a few squeals comes out of your mouth. The car is going fast, the sound of the engine covering whatever filthy sounds you make.
His other hand is reaching for the neckline of your top, his finger slightly pulls on it to have a quick peek of your breasts. You keep panting, his finger crooked into you, reaching that soft spongy spot that makes you shiver if it’s played with a little too much.
“ ‘Atta girl” he say, your heart pounding harder, getting closer to your climax and then…
He stops. Fuck
Your walls are clenching around nothing, it’s demanding for more, something bigger. It’s only waiting for him, but how much longer can you hold it?
The car pulls up to a fancy restaurant with a forest green and gold storefront. You see a few paparazzi outside taking pictures from afar, probably of the girl inside.
The driver gets out of the car and pull out his phone, calling to get orders.
“Take them off” Joel says looking at you, then your hips
“What…My panties?” you frown.
“Yeah” He smirk, and he’s so damn hot when he does.
You take your shorts off along with your panties. They’re black with some floral lace at the top, hot but still comfortable and covering.
Joel takes it in his hands and makes a small ball of fabric out of it and put it in the back pocket of his jeans. “Mine” he whispers, kissing you one last time before getting out of the car, holding out his hand for you to follow him.
“We have to secure the perimeter and make sure none of this fuckers get in” the big guy say as you take out your notebook and a pen from your backpack and start taking notes: how things start, Joel’s role, his coworkers, and other thing you couldn’t care less about because right now your mind is focused on Joel and not his work, more like the stuff in his pants.
You follow Joel inside the restaurant as he gives his name to the front desk. He sits you at a table near the outside window.
“Sit here so I can keep an eye on ya’ from outside, take your notes here…look at me and scribble whatever you needa scribble,” he gently caresses your hair as you look up to him “Order anything ya’ want, it’s on me sweetheart” he kisses your forehead and rushes outside, seating at an outside table as a server brings him a cup of coffee. He looks so damn professional for a man who has finger fucking you just a few minutes ago while on your side, you can’t stop thinking about him, your inner thigh still dripping wet.
You order the breakfast menu with some fancy beacon and eggs with toast that cost way too much for little to no change compared to the ones you make at home.
The lady Miller and his big friend are supposed to watch is not far away from you, she’s really pretty, you actually don’t know who she is but considering her style she might be a model, or an actor…or a singer?
Your phone buzzes in your pocket, you see a number pulling up with a text.
Unknown Number: Still wet baby ?
You: Joel ??? howd u get my number?????
You save his number into your contacts.
Joel: Your dad just gave it to me, in case
You put your phone back on the table and keep writing stuff on your notebook, adding more details to the things you’ve already summed up earlier.
Your phone buzzes again.
Joel: what you writing ?
You: Shouldn’t u be watching that girl instead of me ?
Joel: yeah but I’d rather focus on you and ur bare pussy
You: omg shut up and do your work so I can have an A+
After a full day of running around town following that lady no matter where she’d go; Louis Vuitton, Prada, a random grocery store for some Redbull. All this while Joel and the big guy were watching her along with a few paparazzi they had to push away. You? You were standing behind Joel the whole time, trying not to be a menace to his job like this morning. All this time of walking around in no panties with only your shorts for cover, you finally go back to your hotel room, exhausted.
“Fuck it I’m so damn tired” You pant after walking up to your room.
Joel comes from behind, throwing your bag away and grabs you from behind, nestling his nose in your neck.
“You too exhausted to get taken care of angel?” you feel his lips curving into a smile against your skin. “Maybe I have a little energy to play a bit” you smile too.
He spins you around and crashes his lips onto yours, taking your breath away in a second. He starts undoing your shorts, freeing your cunt for good. He immediately slides his hand down to feel the wetness between your legs.
“You’re so damn wet, is it all because a’me baby?” he says, close to your ear.
“You made me wait all day long,” you say, “don’t act so surprised.”
“Stop being such a brat, honey, I’m gonna take good care of you, like no one did before.”
And you know he doesn’t lie, just this morning in the shower and in the car, he treated you way better than any man did before, not that Miller is so damn special but the boys you were with were mostly unexperienced or scared, now at least he knows where your clit and your G spot is.
You’d never thought you’d do this with a person way older than you but now that you think about it, it should’ve been on your bucket list for a while.
He starts kissing you, again and again, not letting a single air particle get through your mouth as he pushes you until the back of your knees touches the table behind you. He grabs your waist, lift you up and sits you on it.
He quickly parts your legs to make space for him as you start to unbutton his plain white shirt.
“You’re so damn hot in that costume Mr. Miller,” you say as he growls for an answer “too bad we need to take it off.”
His bulge is growing bigger with time, his tip pushing onto the zipper. You’re still amazed by how big it is, even though it hurts sometimes it can be exciting.
He finally unzips his pants and take his boxer away while you take your shirt off in a hurry. His cock is throbbing, touching in between your legs almost like its attracted to you like a magnet.
The horniness is high today, the both of you couldn’t stop looking at each other. Him scanning your body up and down when you walk, devouring you with his eyes.
“I hope you touch yourself thinkin’ ‘bout me after that” and he’s right, you might. Touching yourself surely isn’t as good as Joel touching you, or even fucking with him which you’re going to find out, but maybe thinking of him would make it better.
Excitement is pooling in your core, and it’s about to overflow. Your body is heating up as Joel rub himself against your folds, spreading your fluids all over his shaft. Your hips can’t stop moving back and forth almost begging for him to finally get in, to fill you, possess you.
“Please, Joel, please just fuck me already” you keep begging for him.
A slight laugh comes out of his mouth as he finally pushes in and fuck, he’s so big, bigger than you thought it would be inside of you but it’s just perfect. He stretches you just right, almost like he belonged to you, and you belonged to him like a key belongs to one single door.
He starts pushing in, slowly, but your body decided otherwise and started pushing in even more.
“Hey honey, relax,” he takes back the inches you took from him “I wanna go slow, don’t wanna hurt my girl” The stretch did hurt a little bit but it’s like your pussy needs more.
His hips are going back and forth slowly but it still makes you moan, his thick shaft stimulating your inside just right.
“Just like that, baby.” He wet his lips. Your hand goes down and rubs your clit, following his pace.
“That’s it girl, keep touching yourself like that,” he rasps. His head falls back as he feels you tighten around him. “I love seeing you touch yourself like that baby”.
His hips start to trust faster and deeper, rubbing on your g-spot making you shiver after a few times with your hand stimulating you.
Your nails keep digging into his back, and it hurts him. You know because he keeps frowning. “Fuck baby your nails are sharp as fuck” Getting long black Stiletto nails was a bad idea.
He crashes his lips onto yours as he suddenly lifts you up in his arms, his cock still in you.
“Imma make you pay for those marks” He says as he look in the mirror behind him giving a full view on the mark you imprinted on him.
He throws you onto the bed, making your walls suddenly clench around nothing. You see him grab his tie he left on the bed earlier and brings it around your wrists.
“Oh -- so your form of punishment is to tie me up, huh?” you smile.
“Uh huh” he nods.
He makes a tight knot; you know for sure it’s going to leave marks on your wrists…that’s his way of making you pay for his.
He throws your arms over your head, one of his hands holding you down. Your unable to move, unable to feel his body with your hands, this is the worst punishment you could think of for your first time knowing you probably won’t see each other for a while once you go back home, unless you hide, all this until maybe this goes further and one day you reveal to your dad that you’re fucking his best friend for a while. Damn it, you shouldn’t be thinking about this, right now you should focus on Miller and enjoy the night while it last.
He keeps fucking you deep and rough, your hand still tied up firmly. He pounds into you, changing his pace from time to time until you’re on the edge of cumming, finally.
“Joel please, I’m so close” your brows furrow, your head is spinning with excitement, and it get worse the closer to your climax you get.
“Cum for me baby, I’ll cum after you do” Looks like he put women first, he’s a gentleman.
After more moans, and more trusting, you finally come, your juices spreading all over him.
“Atta’ girl, good job” he praises you, and fuck he’s doing it well. He finally comes too, emptying out on your belly.
“Fuck Joel, I love you”
You didn’t mean to say that – but maybe you do, kind of. Good thing he doesn’t seem to have noticed as he kisses your forehead, gets up and walk to the opened shower. He comes back holding a small towel that he submerged in warm water. “There, baby” he says while cleaning your tummy.
After a whole night fucking with Joel multiple times and discovering more things about your body, and new positions, you finally go back home. Your essay is done and hopefully going through all this will get you an A+.
You’re on your couch with your dad, talking about how your day went while watching TV, obviously skipping the whole fucking your best friend part, when the broadcast is showing pictures of the woman Joel had to cover yesterday.
“Oh, look that’s her !” You say, excited. “That’s the woman we were with yesterday, didn’t talk to her, she seemed nice even though she’s a celebrity and they’re often viewed as self-centered and unaware but she-“
Your dad pauses the TV and looks at you with wide eyes, cutting you off. You look at the image on the wide flat screen and see you and Joel kissing in 4K HD right in front of your dad, furious. Your heart skips a beat, or multiple.
“You got some explaining to do, young girl.”
<3 Hr43s
#pedro pascal fandom#joel miller smut#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal#smut#joel miller#the last of us fic#joel the last of us#joel miller the last of us#joel miller tlou#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller fic#hr43s#security guard#security guard fic#dbf!joel#dbf!fic#joel miller fanfiction#tlou#tlou hbo#the last of us hbo#joel tlou#the last of us#x reader#fem reader#reader insert#female reader
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“there’s so many fishes in the sea but i never learned how to swim” ; aventurine
summary — a guide to pining presented by yours truly, aventurine.
pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)
tags — fluff, secret pining but like aventurine can be too obvious, not proofread, 0.8k ; headcanons
tagging — @toorurs (sorry boo i forgot to tag 😭)
note — i know i could have done better with this one, my brain wasn’t just working and im also on a trip. this is day 6 and 7 of writing for him until i get him !!
Aventurine yearns for connection yet he erects tall walls of self-preservation, fearing vulnerability, attachment, and betrayals (the shadow of his fear of losing someone dear to him all over again will haunt and follow his steps). He’s always distant, seemingly detached to the people around him like a leaf that never touches the ground as the wind carries it away; his only drive for relationships is due to mutual-benefit or a give-and-take situation. So what happens to him when he falls and yearns for someone?
Love is violence, he knows that but his eyes would stumble after your shadow and he wonders what it feels like to live in it. He’ll lie under your gaze and he’ll dream what it feels like to be seen, what it feels like to be loved by you. He will seek ways to be close to you but not close enough that you’ll know the rhythm of his heart spells out the letters of your name. In each moment of longing, it is all tinged with a taste of bitterness as this yearning, though desired, is a precarious precipice—everything will crumble and fall once he speaks about it.
So he settles with stolen looks with wishful thinking that you’ll cast a glance at his direction, he settles with the small things at first before he begins to become selfish—he’ll make up reasons just to see and talk to you, think of excuses just so he could linger a little longer in your presence. He’ll make up games and initiates bets where he knows he’ll always win but would let himself lose anyways; winning or losing didn’t matter to him in those moments with you.
“Go ahead, guess.”
You fell into a deep thought, staring at the two hands balled into fist that are in front of you. Your eyebrows were scrunched, trying to listen to the voice of your instinct but everything was silent inside your head.
“Take your time. After all, whoever loses has to follow what the winner wants.” Aventurine spoke and you could discern the hint of amusement in his tone as he watched you fall into some sort of predicament—all you had to do was to choose which one of his hands was the coin in. It was just one of the simple games you’ll play with him every time you see each other. Come to think of it, his visits to your department have been quite frequent despite having no particular business, official or not.
“Shh. I’m thinking.” You answer, lifting your index finger to your mouth in a hush gesture. It took you a few moments of silence and thoughtful humming before you pointed at his left hand, “That one.”
But he opens his left hand to show nothing on his palm, his right hand revealing the coin at the same time, and you are hit with a wave of disappointment. A chuckle slips past his lips and you just sighed—there was nothing you could do but to admit defeat. “Well then, what do you want me to do?”
Aventurine, without a single second of hesitation, answered. “Let me take you out to dinner.”
The thing is you could have laid yourself bare to him, you could tell him all of the sins that taint your skin, the words left unspoken in your mouth, the growing mold in your lungs. He’ll see the rot and will choose to stay, he’ll see the cobwebs and dusty bookshelves, and he’ll love you still, he’ll see the torn wallpapers and ruined floors and he’ll still adore you (he’ll find you where you are most ruined and he will love you there).
(His hand would gently tug and hold at the cuffs of your sleeves, letting the warmth and closeness of his touch linger in hopes that you’ll see him in the sun that holds you gently.)
Many people claim that they love you but do they adore you the same way as he does? Would they cross bridges for you when he’ll swim oceans just to see the way your eyes catch the light? Would they traverse the stars just to listen to the sound of your laughter?
(He’ll see the dirt in your hands and will help you wash it off when others would simply walk away.)
He’ll think of you as he laid in his bed, satin sheets all wrinkled and messy as his pillows scattered around his form, and he wondered how nice it would be to have your things among his. to have the smell of your perfume mixed with his, to have you in his arms before he sleeps (he has dreams of his dreams and you’re always in it).
All this yearning, longing, and adoration will turn into a sword that will make him bleed the more he holds on to it and you’ll stay in his thoughts as the blood will run dry on his being. He simply hopes he crosses your mind once in a while so that he won’t feel pathetic for thinking of you all the time.
© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.
#honkai aventurine#aventurine#hsr aventurine#aventurine x reader#aventurine honkai star rail#star rail aventurine#aventurine x you#honkai x you#honkai star rail x reader#honkai fluff#honkai imagines#honkai#honkai star rail#honkai x reader#hsr x you#hsr fluff#hsr x reader#star rail#honkai star rail x you#azul.writes
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