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maxtermind · 23 days

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baby, would i still be your lover?

★ : summary :: when he accidentally insults you during an argument ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: angst ★ : word count :: 2.9k ★ : a/n :: as much as i love making the crack texts, i'm just an angst addict 😔

Max Verstappen

Everyone, people who weren’t even in Max’s close proximity, knew that he was impulsive and a little reckless. With you, on the contrary, Max was usually a think first, act later kind of a lover. That wasn’t to say that when arguments happened, they were a pretty sight to look at.

It was a single thing that you said which suddenly turned into a huge blown out argument, leaving your head throbbing as Max continued to vent his frustrations about unrelated issues.

"You're so hot-headed, you can't even have a normal conversation without blowing up."

"Attacking me now, are you?" Max retorted, his tone defensive.

He was quick to bite back and the ball in your throat made it scratch-y to talk. You were sure that your eyes were welling up with tears but he was too far away to see it.

"I'm just stating the truth.” You started after taking a shuddering breath. “Every time we talk, it turns into a fight because you can't control your temper."

"Well, maybe if you didn't push all my buttons, we wouldn't be here."

He was talking in the same decibel at least and for a second you had hope that everything would be better. Then his words registered and the hope vanished as well.

"I'm not the one who flies off the handle at the slightest provocation!"

You had to stop and take another breath, otherwise, you were going to start crying and this conversation was inevitably going to get left in between because Max wasn’t an asshole who was okay with his girlfriend crying just because he was angry.

"You know what? I'm sick of your constant criticism."

"And I'm sick of walking on eggshells around you!"

He took a moment to say the next thing. The silence indicating that he was thinking it over first. Max's next words hung in the air, heavy with implication.

"Fine, maybe we should just call it quits then."

The suggestion hit you like a punch to the gut. Was this really that easy for him? He just ripped your heart out and splashed it on the ground. Your chest hurt so much and he was just sitting there? Was he not at all affected by the way you looked close to crying now?

"Fine. Enjoy being single and available," you retorted, your voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

Your boyfriend rolled his eyes looking over at you, indicating how he didn’t really think that you guys were breaking up. Though in your head, this was the last time you were ever going to look into his eyes again.

"You're too sensitive, always getting upset over nothing."

You were already on the edge, not having even processed that you guys almost- probably did break up over you trying to talk something out with him.

“Us breaking up is nothing to you?”

The weight of his words crashed over you, the tears finally spilling down your cheeks. Max's expression softened, regret flashing in his eyes, but it was too late. The damage had been done, and the fragile bond between you felt irreparably shattered.

Lewis Hamilton

How can one tell if they really are in a good relationship? Is it the security and sense of peace? Is it the frequent love confessions? Honestly, the explanation might differ person to person but one thing you always believed that made a relationship was being level headed even during arguments when emotions were running high

Needless to say, you were very glad you found solace in Lewis. A person who was prone to recognizing the impact of his words. Arguments between you two were rare, and when they did occur, Lewis prioritized finding solutions rather than escalating the conflict. His ability to remain level-headed during disagreements was a cornerstone of your relationship.

Everyone has those days though, when acting out of character seems more suitable than the usual. Moments when emotions override reason.

You were more worked up than usual. Your insides were burning with this desire to get answers because your boyfriend wasn’t there with you on the day you needed him the most.

You drove back home from your conference, dismayed despite it being a very successful session, given that your proposal got accepted as soon as you were done. You just wished your chocolate eyed man was sitting in the crowd looking at you with his signature proud smile.

After a shower, you sat on your couch to watch some show and just move on from the bittersweet day. It was an hour later, when your boyfriend showed up with a bouquet in his hand. Lewis walked over to you and leaned down to kiss your head.

“Congratulations, love," he greeted, oblivious to the storm brewing within you. “Saw it on the news, sorry I couldn’t join you. Got caught up with work.”

Usually, you would have avoided the argument till you felt like you could understand his side too. That was one of the things that helped you guys the most. You both waited to discuss stuff till you knew you were calm and ready to get what the other was saying.

“Aren’t you too busy with work lately?”

He gave a humorous huff in return, not catching on.

“You know how it is once the season starts.”

“You literally got home last night and you had to go in again early in the morning?”

“Missed me?”

He had a playful grin on his face and it killed you to spoil the good mood.

"Of course, after all you're more committed to your cars than you are to me."

The words left your mouth and you were too far gone to be caring about it at this point. Lewis has been such a passionate lover so this sudden shift was hurting you.

“What was that?” he responded, his tone sharp with surprise.

However, you were done and already up to call in early but his words stopped you on our track.

“Wow. You're so insecure, it's exhausting trying to boost your ego all the time."

Tears immediately welled up in your eyes but you didn’t turn around and with a deflated sigh, walked into your bedroom before locking the door while Lewis stood frozen in his place, not believing his own words.

It was like he was in a stance and all he could do was listen to you cry through the closed door on a day when you guys were supposed to be celebrating each other’s wins.

Carlos Sainz

Carlos was the perfect man. His mature yet easy going demeanor was exactly what you needed in a partner. You hadn't been together for that long to be at the altar but just enough to know that you were going to last.

You understood the demands on Carlos's time, with his career in the spotlight of the racing world when you decided to say yes to a date with him. Carlos was left with very less time away from all the glam, media and the track. Making it precious because of how rare it was.

You mostly accompanied him and let him drag you around to wherever he wanted once he had the break. So imagine your surprise when the only time you made some pretty important plans and he refused to tag alone.

"I can’t believe you’re saying no to this," you protested, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

“I’m not saying no to anything, Carina.” He kissed your knuckles to un-knot the strong fist you’ve made of them. “I’m just suggesting we do it some other time.”

"But this is the third time, Carlos!" You stood up, unable to contain your hurt and disappointment. “Sorry if meeting my parents is such a chore for you.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth now.” Carlos responded with a sigh, attempting to pull you into a hug, which you reluctantly accepted. “It's not about it being a chore. You know I'd do anything for you, Y/N."

"I do know that, but actions speak louder than words, Carlos. My family is important to me."

“I promise that I want to meet them. I do. It's just… the timing."

"I don't want promises, Carlos. I want actions. If you can't even make it to meet my parents, what does that say about our future?" You insisted with a heavy heart, putting distance between you two.

"You're blowing this out of proportion, Y/N." Carlos countered, frustration evident in his voice.

"Out of proportion? I just wanted you to meet my family, and you can't even do that!"

“Well, I don’t have time to waste on this! If you want to go, just go alone!” His words hung in the air, a sharp pang of hurt piercing through you.

You immediately took a step back and saw him do the same. Both of you standing there as the silence stretched, contemplating in silence what exactly the next course of action was going to be.

“Y/N, I…” He trailed off as you glared at your foot, trying to hold the tears in before one eventually slipped and fell down your cheek.

“Baby, no! Don’t cry!” He panicked about extending his hand, about to touch you but you flinched away and shook your head.

“Carlos, if you think I’ll just ignore what you said ten seconds ago then you’re very wrong.” You whispered, your voice thick and husky.

Guess you were the only one from you both expecting this relationship to last. A second later, you were clutching your bag in your hand and walking towards the exit, speaking up before Carlos could beg you once again to ‘sit and talk it out.’

“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice barely a whisper. “Thanks for letting me know that our time together was time wasted for you.”

You walked out with his heart in your pocket, your own splashed on the floor of your apartment.

Charles Leclerc

Charles was the love of your life, the very time you saw him smile at you from across the room igniting a spark in you that shaped your future together.

He walked over to you with a pretty girl hanging onto his arm, leaving the impression that they were more than friends. Everyone around you was also convinced at the time that they were dating but Charles bluntly flirting with proved just how different the real life scenario was.

Pippa was just his ‘best friend,’ someone who throws side eyes at you every time you and your boyfriend are in close proximity to her. Despite nearly a year together, her hostility persisted, the woman was a different kind of vicious. Hell bent on draining your energy.

It was physically exhausting being around her with her catty sarcastic tone that Charles always failed to notice. It was just another one of those days and Charles dismissed your concerns as usual, leaving you frustrated.

This time it was pissing you off greatly.

"Doesn't she realize we're together?" You rolled your eyes.

Charles remained silent and that drew your brows together.

“Charles, does she not think we’re serious?”

“I don't think so. She's always been oblivious to these things.”

And honestly? That fucking hurt. It hurt to know that Charles noticed this but was still rather quick to defend her every time.

"But we've been together almost a year?”

"Baby, she just never pays attention.” His arm pulled you closer to his chest. “Or maybe she doesn't want to see it."

"Do you think she has feelings for you?”

There it was, the truth out in the open. As much as it made you want to die to say it out loud and acknowledge it, your body felt lighter while the comforting arm around your waist began to feel heavier.

"I don't know. Maybe?” Charles’ chest heaved with a deep sigh, "It's complicated?"

The heart beating in your chest stopped for a long second because of how unconcerned your boyfriend seemed right now. Was he seriously just going to accept that a person he has shared so much history with wants to steal him from you?

“It’s not that simple, darling. she's been a friend for years.”

“Yeah, well, friends don't act like that. She’s just what? Waiting for the right moment to swoop in and steal you away from me?”

Charles did not like it because the arm was moved away from you in a second and he was sitting a bit straighter now. He looked furious and ready to defend his best friend and all that was running through your head was how he would probably not do the same for you in front of her.

"That's enough, Y/N. You're being paranoid."

"Paranoid? Or realistic? Face it, Charles, you're so blind when it comes to her. It makes me feel so small compared to her!"

Charles, frustrated and defensive, ran a hand through his hair and shot back,"Don't flatter yourself thinking Pippa gives a damn about you or me."

Lando Norris

No one could deny the magnetic pull Lando had on everyone around him. It was, after all, what drew you to him in the first place. You had your biases but he broke through them all with his shameless at worst and awkward at best flirting.

However, as you stood in a quiet corner to hide from the crowd, you couldn’t find it in yourself to sympathize with Lando. He had brought you to this glamorous social event, flashes of camera and expensive drinks overflowing all around you.

You were extremely excited to accompany your boyfriend especially since he had such an amazing season but throughout the evening, Lando was constantly pulled away by enthusiastic fans and demanding media, leaving you aside feeling like an accessory rather than his partner.

Standing in a quiet corner, you couldn't help but feel a pang of envy as you watched other couples bask in each other's company. You didn’t even know where Lando was at this very second.

Then, suddenly, his arms enveloped you from behind, his lips pressing gently against your head. "I'm sorry, babe. Everyone here just wants a piece of me," he murmured, attempting to console you.

You sighed and tried to calm yourself so you wouldn't explode in front of everyone, "I understand, but I miss spending time with you."

"I promise, I'll make it up to you tonight." Lando winked, keeping the conversation light.

That was all he said before someone from your left approached him again and your safety haven spot under the stairs was crowded with journalists a second later. You rolled your eyes before walking away, with half a mind to grab a cab and leave.

It was on your way back home when your patience finally ran its course as you listened to your boyfriend go on and on about how much of a success the event was.

“Why did you even take me with you?” You interrupted, your tone tinged with hurt and watched as the smile on his face got replaced with a frown.

“What?”

“I mean… you barely clicked two pictures with me and then left me to fetch for myself? You didn’t even come stand with me for more than a minute?”

"Babe, I'm sorry, but this is part of the job."

"I get it, but it doesn't make it easier.” You felt your own body shudder because of how overwhelmed you felt. “You were there talking to everyone but me!”

Lando opened his mouth to say something but you weren’t done yet.

“They were all strangers to me and you didn’t even acknowledge this! I was standing there alone the whole time, watching others and wondering why my boyfriend wasn’t there for me!”

The weight of your words hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, there was silence. You stopped to take a breath and not start crying. Then, Lando spoke, his words struck like a knife to the heart.

“This isn’t… This isn’t about you. Why are you always making it about you?”

Your body froze after that and your mind went blank. You didn’t care that the tears were running out of your eyes or that apologies were falling from his mouth. His own eyes were welling up because he knew.

He knew what he said was unacceptable.

You were so zoned out that as soon as the car stopped, you got out of the car. Thankful to catch the glimpse of yellow among the traffic before you hailed a taxi, the distance between you and Lando growing with each passing moment.

He attempted to hold your arm, his own tears falling down his face. You just wanted to put your point across but with his reaction, you were certain you guys were done for.

“I guess I expected a little too much from you, Lando.”

With a heavy heart, you walked away, knowing that sometimes love wasn't enough to mend the fractures in a relationship.

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

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astraystayyh · 4 months

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the premise : u apply lipgloss on felix because ofc he suits glossy lips except it takes an emotional turn???? because felix is perfect sorry. this is fluffyyyy and the sanest reaction to this man being ur bf (and these pics. these pics....)

“lixie, stay still,” you giggle, body nestled between felix’s legs. He's leaning against the bathroom counter, hands propped on the sleek ebony marble as you apply a shimmering lip gloss to his lips.

“but don't you wanna know what changbin said to me?”

“of course i wanna know what creative pickup line he used on you today. of course i do, baby,” you smile and he rolls his eyes at the sarcasm dripping from your tone, his tongue poking against his cheek before gliding in (fake) annoyance over his lips.

“but…” he muses, tilting his head to the side, his hands finding your waist once again (they've been away for two minutes too long).

“but when your mouth moves i can't technically apply lipgloss to it.”

“maybe you're just a bad make-up artist,” he teases, before quickly planting a kiss on your temple. “kidding baby. you're the very best at everything you do.”

“you're actually incapable of being mean,” you laugh heartily, your thumb swiping across his chiseled jaw.

“i am very much capable of being mean,” he pouts, his eyes widening slightly, golden light spilling into his pupils— it refracts into an arrow delving straight into your heart.

“you can't say this in the softest voice and expect me to agree.”

“i am very much capable of being mean,” he repeats, only this time his timber is many many octaves lower. his voice reverberates straight through your stomach, a deep melody orchestrating the untamed butterflies in your stomach.

“this is the equivalent of a kitten throwing a punch to me,” you pull his face closer, and he shakes his head, mouth shut tightly as you reapply the glitter infused gloss on his lips, going delicately over his cupid's bow. his eyes are boring onto you, yet you don't shy away from his gaze. it is a kind one— like a blanket knitted with love thrown over your body.

“done,” you whisper, hands trailing up to his hair, blonde silky locks akin to threads of sunlight. you think he must be favored by the stars— how they stored the sun inside every component of his being for him to keep safe.

“you have the prettiest lips,” your voice is suddenly hoarse, thumb grazing slightly over his lips, ones shaped like a heart— akin to the one freckle he has right underneath his eye.

it wasn't enough for him to have the kindest soul, no, love needed to be etched onto his skin too.

“felix,” you rasp out his name.

he catches your tears before you sense them falling, swiping his thumbs delicately on your cheek. “angel?”

“you're an idiot.”

“am i?” he brings you to his chest swiftly, your nose buried in the orange blossoms and sea notes of his skin— your home, the one you'd recognize in blindness, in despair, in safety, in love.

“i wanted to apply this lipgloss on you because shimmer would suit your angelic lips and then we'd make out. but you just had to be so beautiful and pure that it makes me wanna cry.”

“I'm sorry,” he says and you giggle, more tears spilling from your eyes.

“see, this is what i mean. why are you apologizing. this is so silly and you're so perfect and i can't believe you love me.”

“well i do,” he leans away, kissing your forehead tenderly. the sticky lip gloss lingers on your skin. “i love you so much, angel. i will only ever love you.”

“promise me?” you ask in a feat of vulnerability almost foreign to your being.

“i promise.”

you believe him.

“thank you. please don't put this lipgloss near anyone else or it'll make them cry too.”

“i think that's just you baby,” he grins, his thumb swiping over your thigh comfortingly, then, his nose brushing against your own. “kiss?”

you close your eyes, a sigh of relief, of longing escaping your body. “please.”

to be loved by felix— maybe you're the one favored by the stars after all.

#woah i missed silly little drabbles #this is my new serotonin booster #i dedicate this to my xi #and my anny #enjoy #felix fluff #felix x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz reactions #stray kids reactions #skz fanfic

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reiderwriter · 8 months

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More Than Words

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female BAU!Reader

Requested: yes

Summary: After telling a white lie to your family about your relationship status, your forced to beg your coworker Spencer to pretend to be your boyfriend for a weekend wedding.

Warnings: Light smut at the end, penetrative sex, creampie, mentions of Spencer's childhood.

A/N: Thank you for the request on this one! Ever since I rewatched Season 7 and saw Spencer dancing with everyone at JJ's wedding I've been thinking non-stop about him just holding you close like that and I'm going to shut up now because 8k words of that is more than enough lmao.

You can find my masterlist here, and I just started posting all my stuff on AO3 as well, so if you prefer to read there, check it out!

Despite knowing about your brother’s impending nuptials for the last 18 months, it was in the final two-week stretch that you actually started panicking about getting the date that you’d promised them. It was one sweet little white lie that you had made that had just spiraled out of control, but you’d yet to actually manifest the secretive boyfriend who was “very real actually, mom, he’s coming to the wedding actually.”

It was that statement that had sealed your fate, and always one to wear your emotions on your face when you weren’t on a case, it wasn’t long before someone noticed your building anxiety and guilt.

“Okay, spill Y/N. You look like you just witnessed your favorite author kick a puppy or a kitten or something,” Penelope said when you dropped some files off in her room that morning, spinning around on her chair to face you as soon as she caught your reflection in her monitor.

“It’s this wedding I have to go to,” you sighed dramatically, falling into one of the other chairs in the room kept for visitors.

“Want me to help you get out of it?” Penelope offered, patting your hand comfortingly.

“I’m not sure my brother would be too pleased about that, since it’s his wedding and all. My mother would drag me down all the way from here herself if she had to.”

“Okay, so a no-show is a no-go. Then what gives, my sweet avenging angel? There has to be something serious to get you looking all glum.”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair before straightening up and leaning into Penelope more, creating an air of secrecy.

“Promise you won’t tell?”

“Oh sweetie, if only you knew the secrets these four walls held,” she replied dramatically, pulling a laugh from you.

“Last year, I was so, I don’t know, jealous I guess, of all the attention my brother and his fiancee were getting because of the wedding, and it just felt like every time my mom called me, she would only want to talk about them because of the wedding. I felt left out, and I already live so far away anyway, so it’s hard to have that connection with people back home, so I might have told a small, tiny, inconsequential lie that now actually has consequences?” Your face flushes at the confession, and you can see Penelope trying her best not to blurt out her thoughts, intent on letting you continue.

“I told her I was seeing this guy. He’s amazing, he works in the FBI just like me, and he’s smart, and he takes me on dates to these amazing places, like museums and interesting restaurants and to book fairs. I told her he was handsome and that he looked at me like I put the stars in the night sky, and he just doesn't exist, Penelope. And now I have to disappoint my mother again by turning up to my brother's wedding without a date.”

“Oh sweetheart,” was all she said for a minute, and the sympathetic look on her face made you want to run out of there immediately.

“I know, I know, I need to tell her the truth, but I don’t want to do it at the wedding and spoil her happiness. She loves weddings.”

“And this fake boyfriend is supposed to be your plus-one?” she asked.

“My invitation read ‘To our darling sister and her mystery man,’” you groaned, wondering how you could have been so childish in the first place. You’d acted like any child on a playground would, inventing lies to make yourself seem more important and cooler.

“I think I have the perfect solution for you, angel, but you might not like it,” Penelope grinned from her chair, leaning back and playing with the pen in her hands nefariously as if she’d been waiting for this chance her whole life. You didn’t trust that look, but you had no other option, so you took a deep breath and listened to her plan.

–X–

Three days later, and you were suddenly pacing the hallways with a coffee and a croissant, poised and ready to kidnap an FBI Agent the second he passed you.

At first, you’d laughed at the suggestion she’d made, outlandish as it was. But 72 hours of reflection, and a timely phone call from your mother, and suddenly you were on board and ready to lock on to your target. You stopped pacing when you heard the elevator ding, signaling the arrival of Spencer Reid. You were thankful that his schedule was so regular and timed down to the minute that you had just enough time to ambush him in the hallway before any other member of your team noticed.

“Spencer! Here I bought you coffee and a croissant from that cafe I mentioned a while back,” you panicked, unloading the gifts into his arms quickly, taking him off guard, before checking left and right before pushing him into the nearest empty room and shutting it behind you.

“Good morning to you, too, Y/N. Is there a reason we’re in a closet right now?” he asked, looking down at you with knitted eyebrows.

“Yes,” you gumped, afraid to say anymore.

“Are you going to tell me what the reason is?”

“I need you to be my boyfriend for a weekend,” you finally blurted out.

“You need me to… Just for a weekend?” He looked confused, and you felt your cheeks flame up, as you tried your best to explain the situation for him.

“My brother is getting married in LA this weekend, and I need a date. I told my mom last year that I was in a relationship with a really great guy who also works for the FBI.”

“Oh. So, you broke up with him and don’t want to tell your mom?”

“No, he never existed. Long story, I can explain on the plane, but I really need you to come with me! I’ll pay for everything, and I’ll even get you this coffee and any pastry of your choice every day for a month, please, please, please!” You begged him, so desperate that you were moments away from dropping to your knees and grabbing his leg, refusing to move until he acquiesced. You didn’t have to in the end.

“Oh, sure, I’ll go. When did you say it was?” Your jaw fell open in shock, and it took a few seconds to pull yourself back together as you reacted to his words.

“This weekend? The flight is tomorrow at 6 a.m.” You smiled sheepishly as his eyes bugged out of his head.

“This weekend? What were you going to do if I said no?” He laughed at you a little, taking a sip of the coffee you bought him.

“Honestly? Plan B was to cry, and plan C was to kill off my mystery man in a freak accident.”

“Wow, we just started fake dating and you’re already trying to bump me off.” His smile made you burn hotter than before, as you playfully hit his arm in response.

“Stop saying we’re dating. I pulled you in here to ask you privately because I didn’t want weird rumors circulating in the office,” you pouted.

“Then you better let me out of the closet, Y/N, before people think we’re doing something we shouldn’t be. At least three people saw you drag me in here, you know.”

With that, you rush to open the door and run out, shouting a reminder back at him.

“Just be ready, okay. I’ll see you at the airport at 6 a.m.”

–X–

The flight, despite being ridiculously long, was altogether quite pleasant, and you made it back to California in one piece, Spencer trailing behind you like a lost puppy for a while, letting you take up the role of “airport dad” as you guided him through the airport and to the hotel where the wedding was being held.

“So what’s our cover story?” He asked in the taxi on the way there, breaking the comfortable silence.

“What cover story?” you asked, looking up at him from your phone, still focused on just getting to the destination.

“Where did we meet, how long have we been dating, how much do they know about me?” He listed off the possible questions that his parents were absolutely going to interrogate him with soon. “I need to prepare so we don’t get caught out, right?”

“Oh, right. Based on what I told them, we met at work and we’ve been seeing each other casually for about a year now. I didn’t give them a name yet, which annoys my mom to no end, but I was always pretty private as a child so she didn’t find it all that suspicious. Other than that, they don’t know that much about my mystery boyfriend apart from the things we’ve done together.” He listened attentively as you spoke, taking each of your words in and committing them to memory.

“What was our first date?” He asked.

“Coffee shop. That place I got you the coffee from earlier, it’s called Flondon. I’m a regular there, so it made sense to use it in my story.”

“What else have we done together?”

“There was a book fair in New York a few months back that we, uh, spent the weekend at. You surprised me for my birthday with the tickets.”

“Wow, so I’m a really great boyfriend then.” He joked a little, and you let out another groan of annoyance at his teasing. You didn’t get the chance to finish your conversation though, as the taxi finally pulled up to the hotel.

You climbed out of the taxi after paying the driver, Spencer having already left to grab your bags, before walking into the foyer of the hotel.

“Y/N, just one last thing before we go in,” he stopped you at the door, grabbing you by the arm gently. “Are we… the, um. Hotels tend to get booked up pretty early for weddings, and I’m sure your family will be suspicious if we don’t share a room so…”

He didn’t have to finish voicing his thoughts before you were cursing, not having made the connection before.

“Shit, you’re right. My brother made the booking for me months ago. We just have to go in and get the room key but I totally forgot… It’s fine, right? We’ve roomed together on cases, haven’t we?” You asked, looking up at him.

“No, we haven’t. 67% of our motel bookings allow for single occupation rooms for Agents, I end up sharing a room with Morgan for 15% of overnight stays where double occupation is necessary, Hotch for another 17%, and the remaining 1% is made up of outliers where I had to share with Rossi or Prentiss, but we…we haven’t shared before.” He gestured between the two of you for a moment there, letting the facts sit with you.

“Spencer, it’s okay with me, is it okay with you? I understand if you’re not comfortable with it. We can just turn around now if you want.”

“No, no it’s totally fine. I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable with it. Morgan says I snore, so I guess I’m not the best roommate in the world.” He smiled at you then, reassuringly, and moved his hand down your arm until it reached your hand.

You looked down at where his hand had entwined with yours and your heart gave a little jolt. Spencer didn’t like physical touch, and you knew that. You tried not to initiate any contact with him, despite being a touchy person, but there had been times after particularly tough cases and with close calls where you’d thrown yourself into the nearest person's arms, and he always happened to be near.

But those hugs had been thoughtless, natural reactions to stressful situations and this was intentional, and more importantly, he’d started it.

“Sorry, I just assumed we should get used to, uh, touching each other, I guess? We’re going to be doing it all weekend, you know, might as well start now.” He gave you an awkward closed-lip smile, and you giggled at his awkward explanatory tone. Squeezing his hand a bit, you grabbed your suitcase again in your free hand, and pushed open the door with your shoulder, pulling Spencer in behind you.

The lobby was filled with people arriving for the wedding, and you instantly spotted three cousins and two aunts from across the room, giving them a little smile as you made your way to the reception desk, Spencer right at your side.

“Hi, reservation for Y/N L/N, please.”

“Sister of the groom, right? Your mother asked me to give her a call when you arrived. Please wait one minute.” She handed you your key, and you felt yourself go pale, turning around to Spencer for reassurance.

“Oh god, she’s coming now, what do we do?”

“Y/N, calm down, it’s okay, we knew we were going to have to see your mom tonight at the reception anyways.”

“You’re right. Okay, right. Okay.” You breathed out, as Spencer wrapped his other arm around you, holding you in a closer embrace while keeping your hands locked together.

“One of my aunts is looking at us. She looks like she wants to say something. Oh god, she’s coming over, Spencer act natural,”

“Saying act naturally is actually counter-active-” but he didn’t have time to finish before you had turned to greet the older woman, disentangling yourself from Spencer’s arms as you hugged the woman warmly.

“It’s so good to see you, Y/N, you know how we all worry about you doing that job of yours. The other week we saw you on the news about that tragedy with the young girl…” she trailed off, giving you a worrying look before quickly shifting her gaze to her actual target, Spencer.

“I think I saw you too, young man. You must be Y/N’s boyfriend,” she smiled at him, waiting to hear a response so she could return to the other matrons with the gossip.

“Yeah, nice to meet you, I’m Spencer.” You could tell he was thankful that the woman hadn’t stuck her hand out to shake his, as he positioned himself mostly behind you, keeping his hands occupied by letting one settle on your hip and the other keeping a hold of your suitcase.

“Spencer? Spencer Reid?” You heard your mother before you saw her, turning around in your place to finally see her, as Spencer whipped his head around as well. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”

Your mother had none of the restraint of your aunt, and unfortunately, you’d inherited your clingy side from her, which is why she immediately swooped in to give Spencer a hug. To his credit, he greeted her warmly as well and didn’t avoid the touch, but he kept it short and polite nonetheless.

“Mom, how did you know…”

“You tell me about your coworkers all the time, I’m just surprised I didn’t work it out sooner. I always said that you talked about that Spencer with a fond tone, you should ask your father, he’ll tell you that I did.” You rolled your eyes at your mother’s words, doing your best to avoid Spencer’s gaze. He’d fallen back into place by your side as you greeted your mother.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, You know, Y/N has been keeping you as this big secret for the last year, and it’s so nice to see that you’re actually real. You’re here!” She sounded so excited for you that your heart almost broke under the weight of your guilt, knowing that you’d have to come clean at some point after the wedding. As it was, you were already going to have to try really hard to avoid the photographer and videographer throughout the night so you didn’t have to be constantly reminded of your idiocy whenever your mother got the photo albums out,

“Sorry, the two of you are probably exhausted after that flight, right? Go and get yourself unpacked. The rehearsal dinner is at 8 p.m. so we’ll catch up then, sweetheart.” She left in a whirlwind, having deposited you next to the elevators, and left you with no other option but to do exactly as she said, making your way to your space for the weekend.

–X–

The following few hours had been a little awkward, to say the least. You’d awkwardly pulled away from one another in the elevator up to the room, apologizing for invading each other's personal space. The room was a decent size, but still small enough that you’d be constantly tripping up over one another the entire weekend if you weren’t careful.

Reid carefully unpacked his tuxedo when you got into the room, and then quietly informed you that he’d need a shower. You’d unpacked your own things while he did, trying not to listen to the water flowing over his body in the next room. His earlier touch had ignited something in you, and your heart was beating at his every gesture now, something that you were sure it hadn’t done before.

What was it about weddings that made you so open to even the possibility of romance that even someone so off-limits could become the object of your affection?

So you tried not to listen, not to wonder why it was taking the man so long to just take a shower, not to let your mind wander to a place where it was perfectly acceptable to wonder what he looked like in that shower, and you unpacked and organized your things.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m really sorry but I forgot to bring my clothes with me,” he called awkwardly through the door a few minutes after you heard the water turn off, and you turned to the bathroom, not expecting the sight before you.

You’d assumed from the quiet volume of his voice that he was calling from within the bathroom itself, but instead, he stood awkwardly in front of you, a towel wrapped around his waist and torso, held together desperately in one hand.

“Oh shit, sorry, I’ll just turn around, I guess,” you stumbled over the words, dragging your eyes back up to his face as you did so, whipping yourself around to stare ahead of you.

“No, no, it’s my fault. I was so hasty I forgot my outfit for tonight. It’s okay.” You heard him fumble for his clothes and return to the bathroom quickly with another mumbled apology, finally allowing you to let out a deep, almost dreamy sigh, startling yourself. Mentally chastising yourself once again, you finished your organizing and let yourself fall onto the bed in the middle of the room sleepily while you waited for him to come out again.

You must have dozed off a little because you woke with a jolt when you felt a soft touch on your arm. There he was above you, a soft and concerned look on his face as he woke you up as kindly as he could.

“Y/N, it’s 7 p.m. We need to get ready for the rehearsal.” He whispered as if he weren’t too bothered if you didn’t want to go down at all, content to let you sleep. But you forced yourself upright anyways, and nodded at his words, swiftly moving yourself towards the bathroom he had since departed.

“Thanks for waking me, Spence,” You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, gathering your towels and change of clothes before turning back to him. In the four hours you’d apparently been dead to the world, he’d managed to dry his hair, change his clothes, and, from the looks of the book on the bedside table, read through an entire book twice.

He noticed you looking and cleared his throat. “Sorry, you looked so tired I didn’t want to wake you, so I just sat here and read while you got some sleep.”

“It’s okay, Spence. I guess I was pretty tired. I’m gonna go…” you gestured towards the shower and stepped towards it with an awkward smile, not letting him answer before you had closed the door between you and taken a deep breath, setting thoughts of him aside for the night before you focused on getting yourself ready to face your lies.

An hour later, you were making your way back down to the lobby, having received a text from your brother that that was where everyone was gathering before making their way to the dining room. Spencer offered you his arm in the elevator on the way down.

“Here, grab my arm.” He said softly down to you, a sweet smile playing on his lips.

“Oh yeah that makes sense,” you said distractedly, looping your own through his and leaning into him.

“It’ll also stop you from picking your nails,” he joked.

“I don’t pick my nails!”

“You so do. You do it when you’re nervous and when you lie about something. Last month on that case in Chicago when that officer asked for your number, you told him you had a boyfriend and started picking your nails,” he laughed down at you, enjoying your pouting face a bit too much as he profiled you.

“You’re one to talk. The last time a woman asked you out, you started rambling about the linguistic history of the phrase “go out,” in the romantic sense. She stood there for five minutes before she gave up.”

“Wait, when did that happen? I don’t remember any woman trying to ask me out.”

“Then you’re even denser than I realized, Doctor Reid, because they do it constantly.” Your back and forth ended there, though, as the elevator doors finally opened into the lobby. You smoothed out your dress and tried your best to act natural as the two of you made your entrance.

“Y/N! Over here,” you heard your brother and saw him wave at you from the other side of the room, his fiancee next to him receiving guests.

“It’s been so long since I saw my kid sister. Get over here,” he smiled at you, beckoning you over, and you released your hold on Reid to give your brother a warm hug.

“Now who is this kid sister you’re talking about because last I checked you’re only 18 months older than me.”

“18 months, 18 years, all that matters is that I am, in fact, the older one,” he released you from the bear hug and glanced up to Reid, standing awkwardly watching the scene waiting for an invitation to the conversation. “Holy shit, you’re real.”

“Hey! Be nice. This is Spencer, he’s my… he’s my boyfriend, we work together.” You felt your cheeks flame as you introduced the two of them, your brother looking at Spencer through knitted eyebrows, taking on a faux protective stance.

“Spencer, hey. Mom mentioned you were here earlier, but I didn’t think you’d be so gangly… It’s my wedding, and I’ve been told I have to keep all threats to a minimum, but if I see you getting all handsy with my sister, just know that I have a blackbelt in jiu-jitsu.”

“No, you don’t. You have a yellow belt in karate at most, and you got that at age 10.” You laughed at the man.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Oh my god, it’s been almost 20 years, I already apologized!”

“Apologised for what?” Spencer finally managed to butt in, watching your sibling bickering as if it were a tennis match.

“This little rodent,” your brother said, scruffing up your hair as he spoke, “broke my wrist when she was 8 and I was 10.”

“It was self-defense! You were trying to use your karate moves on me and I panicked!”

“And now, you’re a hot-shot FBI Agent and you get to break bad guys wrists all the time.” He finished for you and you laughed, suddenly glad to be back around family.

“So, Spencer, you’re an FBI Agent, too? I thought my mom mentioned something about you being a Doctor earlier.”

“I am. A Doctor. And an FBI Agent, uh, they’re PhD’s not medical degrees, though. Three of them, Math, Chemistry and Engineering. I also have Bachelor's Degrees in Psychology, Philosophy, and Sociology.” He answered, and you looked up at him proudly, taking his hand as you noticed him growing slightly uncomfortable with the attention from your brother.

“Wow,” was all your brother said, until he finished the statement with “All those degrees and my sister was the best you could do, huh?” You punched him in the arm after that, and you felt Spencer physically relax a bit, twinning your fingers with his as you chastised your brother.

“Anyway, thanks for taking the time to come to our, hopefully, lovely wedding, the reception will be starting soon. The dining hall is just through there.” You hugged your brother again, and, with a breath of relief, led Spencer down the hall to the dining hall.

“That went well, I think?” you whispered to him, conspiratorially.

“Your family is nice,” he replied. “Does he always act like that, or is it the wedding spirit possessing him somehow?”

“If you’re referring to my brother, I think he’s probably partaken in a few flutes of champagne already this evening. But yes, he’s always like that. They all like to treat me like a baby when they see me.”

“I think it’s nice. They care about you a lot,” his words were warm, but his eyes were sad, and you remembered what you’d been told of Spencer’s own childhood and felt your heart ache for him. His mom loved him a lot, but Spencer had needed to grow up much too fast. You squeezed his hand, still clasped in yours and before you knew it you were pushing onto your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, Spencer. For being here,” you said as his now flushed face met yours. You didn’t let him respond though, simply pushing forward into the dining hall, ready to live in the fantasy of your own making for the evening.

–X–

“Spencer, you were amazing!” You giggled, walking down the hall to your room, stumbling slightly in your excitement and haste.

“Those magic tricks? The little babies couldn’t get enough of you,” you spun around, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and pulling him in close to you, letting him hold you against the door to your room. He laughed a little at your antics as he pulled out the key card.

“Y/N, are you drunk?” he asked, one hand firmly planted on your waist to steady you now.

“No! I’m just happy. And if that happiness was caused by an array of cocktails forced into my hands by distant aunts and cousins who all wanted to know about my absolute catch of a boyfriend, then that is simply secondary to the feeling itself. And furthermore-” He pushed the door behind you in on itself, and your words were cut off by your legs giving out beneath you.

You were so sure you were about to take a tumble to the floor that you shut your eyes tight and braced for an impact that didn’t come. Opening them again slowly, you saw Spencer closer than before, his face mere inches from your own as he held you in an improvised dip, having caught you just before you’d hit the ground.

“Sorry. I… Shit, maybe I am drunk,” you breathed out, not letting your eyes drift from his own, knowing that if you ever considered a glance down at his lips at that moment, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from closing the measly distance separating you.

“You should use the bathroom first,” he told you, but without making any move of his own, stuck in that pose with you as if he was content to stay there for as long as he could hold you. “You should take your make-up off. We have a long day tomorrow, right?”

You were the first one to move, letting your feet find a more solid footing beneath you and twisting up from his grip. His hands didn’t leave your body as you became more upright though, still keeping you in that close embrace.

“Yeah, I should… I should go wash up.” You said, and he nodded, still looking at you with the same intensity as before.

“Spencer, that means you need to move,” you whispered quietly, and he jumped back as soon as the words were out of your mouth.

“Sorry. I’ll just… I’ll just be over there,” he held his hands up in surrender before moving further into the room, leaving you next to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom and were ready to sleep once again. Thankfully, you of earlier that day had managed to store your pajamas in the bathroom ready for their use. Upon exiting the bathroom, you saw that Spencer was getting ready to sleep too, slacks and a shirt having been replaced by a pair of flannel pants and a very old and beaten-up CalTech sweater, looking perplexedly down at the bed.

“Spence, what’s wrong?”

“We didn’t speak any further about the sleeping arrangements…” he mumbled and you looked at the bed in front of you, still confused at his meaning. “Y/N, we have to share the bed.”

“Oh.” You knew you probably sounded dumb, but after the amount of alcohol thrust upon you that night, that was all you could muster at this point.

“I can sleep on the floor if that makes you feel more comfortable. It’s probably no worse than some of the motel beds we’ve stayed on before,” he offered, but you instantly shook your head.

“No, I dragged you out here, I’m not making you sleep on the floor as well,” you sighed and made your way to the side of the bed you’d slept on earlier, beginning to pull the covers down so you could get in.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, perplexed by your somehow contrasting words and actions.

“I’m getting ready for bed. It’s late.” You replied, not looking up at him again, for fear that he’d spot the blush on your face. “You should too,” you continued, patting the other side of the bed, gesturing for him to get in, too.

“Oh.” It was his turn to stand there shell-shocked in the moment, and you almost let out a giggle but held back thinking that would be too much for him to take in at that moment.

“Come on, Spence, I’m tired, I’m sure you’re tired. We’re just sharing a bed, it’s not like you have to marry me after this.” You climbed fully into the bed, making sure that your nightgown covered you decently before pulling the covers up around you. Spencer mumbled something that you didn’t catch, but he acquiesced and climbed in after you. You turned your head over on the pillow to face him, turning onto your side as you watched him turn his head to you as well.

“What?” he smiled, noticing your stare.

“Nothing. Good night, Spence,” you smiled, finally letting your eyes drop closed.

“Good night, Y/N.” He whispered, and the sound of his voice carried you off to sleep.

–X–

You weren’t sure if it was the light streaming in through the window or the rise and fall of a chest that wasn’t your own was the first thing to wake you in the morning, but nonetheless, you woke from the comfortable warmth of sleep and found yourself wrapped around your fake boyfriend.

To be fair to yourself, he was also wrapped around you. Your head had gravitated from your pillow to his chest, his left arm wrapped up and around your back. Your leg had also risen in the night, pulled up over his waist, held in place by his other arm, which was, almost embarrassingly, cradling your ass, pulling you in closer to his core. Unsure about how to go about disentangling yourself, you resigned yourself to just waking the man up.

“Spencer… Spencer,” you whispered, letting the hand that had fallen onto his chest tap him slightly. He stirred a little and then cracked an eye open, looking confused with the situation.

“Y/N, is it time for the wedding?” He asked through half-lidded eyes, evidently wanting nothing more than to fall back into whatever dreams he was having. You shifted uncomfortably in his arms then, suddenly growing stiff in the position you’d probably held for hours, and found your nightgown had risen dangerously high on your body, his hand on your near bare ass.

“No, no, it’s just…” You rolled your hips against his in discomfort, and the movement had his eyes breaking open as he finally took in your positions.

“Shit, I’m….Sorry, I don’t know what happened, I must’ve grabbed you when we were sleeping,” he said, reluctantly slipping his hands away from your body, trailing his hand around your leg, and letting it fall onto his stomach. The movement sent a shiver up your spine, as you finally had enough room to lift your torso up, not quite ready to relinquish the proximity of your entire body yet.

“It’s okay, I think it was probably me who started it in the first place. Those pillows weren’t that comfortable…” you tried to explain, the hand on his chest rubbing slow circles into his skin before you could realize what you were doing.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position then as well, clumsily. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, you had no choice but to move with him, suddenly finding yourself straddling him, the bedsheets suddenly pressed away from your body. If he looked down, he’d see a lot more than you planned for him to see, your panties on clear display as your nightgown twisted itself up into the sheets.

“Shit sorry,” he moaned out again, as you steadied yourself with hands on his shoulders.

“No, it’s okay, I didn’t move quick enough.” You quickly pulled your dress down again, and extracted yourself from the bed, lifting your leg up and off of him and finally pushing off the bed, leaving him sat there.

His hands fell into his lap and you started gathering things around the room, readying yourself for the busy day ahead.

“I have to be in the bridal suite at 11, so we have about… two hours to kill before then. Do you want to grab a shower first, or should I?”

“You first,” he mumbled quickly, before clearing his throat and trying again. “You should go first. You probably have more to do today, right?” You nodded at his words and made your way to the bathroom again. Out of the corner of your eye though, as you let the door close behind you, you watched his hands come up to cradle his flushed face, as he let his head fall back again into the pillow.

–X–

The morning was so busy after that, you barely had any chance to talk to Spencer again. You spent the early afternoon in the bridal suite with the wedding party, welcoming your new sister to the family, then made your way to the aisle space set up outside, checking up on last-minute details and helping to flower girls into position. You weren’t walking down the aisle yourself, but you could see that the extra help was letting the very stressed-out Maid of Honour get some well-needed respite. And more importantly, it stopped your wandering thoughts from letting you fantasize about Spencer.

You’d woken up in bed next to people before, of course, but it had never felt so comfortable. In fact, other people you’d slept with said you were pretty distant in your sleep, choosing to move as far away from physical touch as you could get, but you knew with no doubt that you had been the one to move in first, to touch him first. That he’d pulled you even closer had your heart singing, and you wanted to be wrapped up in him all over again, suddenly desperate to seek him out. So you distracted yourself, not wanting to make any mistakes you would regret when you were no longer wrapped up in your own fantasy.

So you kept your distance as the ceremony started. Then the wedding march was playing, and you were holding back tears as his hand slipped into yours, your head falling onto his shoulder as you watched your brother marry the love of his life.

You kept your distance as you reached the reception hall, watching all the old ladies on both sides fawn over him, asking him questions, and watching from his side as he blushed at the attention. You swept the hair out of his eyes as the couple was announced, and you took your seat for the wedding meal and the speeches, his hand falling to your back to guide you to your chair, pulling it out for you like a true gentleman.

You kept your distance as your new sister tossed the bouquet, and despite your low effort and the ravenous looks of the bridesmaids, it fell neatly into your hands as if it belonged there. You ran excitedly over to him to show him and he lifted you into a hug, caught up in your own excitement.

You kept your distance until you realized you’d not kept your distance at all, physically unable to keep yourself away from the man who had somehow stolen your heart in the middle of the night.

“I know that look,” your brother said, somehow sneaking up on you later into the night as you watched Spencer perform even more of his magic tricks for the smaller guests.

“What look?” you asked, not for one second letting your eyes drift from Spencer.

“You’re in love with him,” he said, taking a swig of the drink in his hand.

“He’s my boyfriend,” you said reflexively, turning to the drinks table behind you and picking up one for yourself.

“No, he isn’t. Or at least he wasn’t before this weekend,” your brother said, as your eyes finally snapped up to him.

“Oh, don’t act all surprised, Miss FBI Profiler. You may be good, but I’ll always be your older brother, and contrary to popular opinion, I do in fact pay attention to things.” You sighed and leaned back against the table.

“How’d you figure it out?”

“You were picking your nails the entire way through the reception dinner when the aunties were asking you about your relationship. You did that when we were younger too, when you tried lying to Mom and Dad about how I broke my wrist. Doesn’t take two PhD’s to figure that out.”

“Three.”

“Three what?”

“Three PhDs. He has three of them.” You sighed dreamily and ran a stressed hand through your head.

“He’s just my coworker. I didn’t want to disappoint Mom by coming alone after telling her all those stories, but now…” You tried to explain yourself but words were escaping you in that moment.

“You should tell him, trust me. He definitely feels the same.”

“How are you so confident about that? How did you manage to end up with all of the confidence between the two of us, when I can barely work up the courage to tell my own mother I’m still single?”

“Y/N, look at me. You got the brains, I had to have something. And no man flies to the opposite side of the country on a few day's notice for a girl who is just a friend, okay? That’s more logic than confidence, and that’s supposed to be your strong suit.”

You considered his words for a second, turning back to look at Spencer. Evidently, he’d finished his magic show and was beginning to say goodbye to the children, but he felt your eyes on him somehow and met your gaze. He brought his hand up into a shy wave before a little girl grabbed his attention again, and he looked at her seriously, nodding along to each word she was saying.

“Fuck, what do I do, I’m not good with… any of this.” You turned back to your brother, but he’d left you there, stranded in your own thoughts as you let yourself hope, let your brain dream that one day this would be your wedding and the man by your side would be Spencer Reid.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom request the presence of all the couples on the dancefloor for this next song.” You saw your brother again, next to his wife, whispering his explanations in his ear as she turned to look at you and winked as well. God, they were going to be a force to be reckoned with together now, you thought, as people started pushing past you to make their way to the dancefloor.

You recognized the song of course, and it was almost so on the nose you almost rolled your eyes. More Than Words by Extreme. Perfect.

“Y/N, may I have this dance?” He had somehow snuck up on you from behind as you watched your brother, and held his hand out to you. You put your drink down and took it, letting him lead you to the dance floor.

“I didn’t think you danced, Dr. Reid,” you teased him as he pulled you in, letting his hands rest on your waist, as yours came up around his neck, gently letting him sway you side to side in time with the music.

“I don’t really, but it seemed wrong not to,” he smiled. “I’m at a wedding, with the most beautiful girl on my arm, and the couple made it very clear that we should be dancing, so here I am.” You blushed at his words as he spoke. He removed his hands from your waist, instead grasping one of yours in his own as he pulled you closer.

You stared up at him with a soft smile for a few more seconds before letting your head fall back to his chest.

“I know I’ve said it a lot this weekend, but thank you, Spencer.” You said into his shirt, letting him hold you close as the song went on.

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N.” He insisted, and you looked up at him again. “Actually… I didn’t exactly agree to this with the best of intentions.”

Your heart lept to your throat as you stared up at him, hoping that he would take your silence as a means to continue.

“I’ve been… I thought that maybe…” he struggled to get the words out, his face aflame with the effort.

“You promised me those coffees right?” He finally stuttered out, and you were left confused and a little disappointed.

“Yeah, Spence, it’s okay, I’ll get you those coffees for the month, just like we promised.” You couldn’t help the sad smile that played on your lips as you answered him, so sure that he was about to say something else.

“No, I mean… Y/N I don’t want the coffee. I want this. I want us to go home, and make everything that you made up come true. I want to take you on a date to that coffee shop. I want to be a boyfriend you can call and tell your mom about because it’s serious and it’s going to work out between us. I even… God, I even spent the morning looking up book fairs in New York City so I could make that come true as well,” he rambled the words out and you could feel the tears forming in your eyes.

“Spencer,” you said softly, trying to get him to focus on you, but he’d started speaking and he wasn’t going to be stopped so easily.

“And if any of that creeps you out, just say the word and I’ll never mention it again. Because I know I’m not good with this, and when I feel something, I tend to feel it overwhelmingly, and Derek tells me I can be really oblivious sometimes, which I don’t really get, but-”

“Spencer,” you put a bit more force into your words this time, punctuating them with a hand on his face.

“Spencer, kiss me.” And he does. He takes your head in both of his hands, and he draws you up to him perfectly, letting your hands fall to the lapels of his suit jacket as he steals your breath away one more time. The kiss is lingering, but short, and he hesitantly backs away, looking around to spot witnesses. But you don’t care and you pull him back down for another, and another, until you’re just two lovers on the dance floor that cannot get enough of each other, gasping for breath between chaste kisses as you let him hold you there, gently swaying.

“Spencer,” you whisper finally, forehead resting on his, as the song finally draws to a close.

“Yes?”

“Spencer, take me to bed.” You tell him, and he nods. He leads you over to the bride and groom where you offer each of them a hug and a happy future before making your excuses and running away with Spencer back into the hotel like two love-drunk teenagers, a mess of giggles and stolen kisses as you stumble up to your room for the second time that weekend.

But this time, you don’t hesitate, don’t pull away. He backs you into the door and you let him hold you there, his mouth on yours, your tongues entwined as he fumbles for his key card. You fall together into the room, laughing and smiling the entire way, not letting him escape your touch.

“May I?” He asks, playing with the zipper of your dress as you kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck, anywhere you can reach, nodding and moaning your consent. The moment the zip is pulled down, he lets you go for a second, and the dress falls straight to the floor. You're practically bare in front of him, chest exposed, neck littered with the beginning of love bites that he’s about to absolutely build upon.

“You’re beautiful.” He says, softly, wrapping his arms around you again, lifting you up so your legs can wrap around him as he delivers one more soul-crushing kiss to your lips. Your brain is a mess of emotions, your only solid thought is that you will never let him go again. You both eagerly worked on unbuttoning his shirt together, a desperate mess of breaths as he finally laid you on the bed. His hand fell to your core, tracing a finger over your sensitive nub as you begged him for more, needing to feel all of him, to devour his very existence.

He pulled himself out of his remaining clothes, lips still attached to yours, climbing over you and holding you tenderly, his arms wrapping around your body as his legs came to settle between your own. Dropping his forehead to yours, he finally spoke again, his hand dropping between the two of you to line himself up.

“Is this… are you sure?” You heard the restraint in his voice, the desperation, the love, the overwhelming lust as he held himself back, needing to hear your consent.

“Spencer, I love you,” you whispered, and he finally pushed himself into you, joining the two of you together in a moment of bliss. You shared another sweet kiss, letting him swallow each and every one of your moans as he began thrusting into you, your hips rising to meet him in your delirious pleasure.

He whispered sweet nothings in your ears, brushing the hair off your face every now and again to tell you how beautiful you looked, and how well you were doing.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N, you’re doing so good for me,” he pressed kisses against your neck with each word, keeping his pace steady as you chased your inevitable high, already clenching around his thick cock.

“Spencer, I love you,” you let the words drop from your tongue like a prayer, repeating them over and over with each thrust as small tears welled up out of your eyes. He kissed them away from your cheeks, listening to each confession as your stomach tightened and your climax spilled over you. He grabbed your waist then, leaving one hand cupping and stroking your cheek as his own thrusts grew sloppy, finally spending himself fully inside you.

“I love you, too,” he whispered into you then, unwilling to let you go for even one second. You spent the rest of the night whispering the words back and forth to one another, waiting with bated breath for the fantasy to break, for the magic of the wedding to wear off.

It never did.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds smut #So much plot #maturereiding

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talaok · 2 months

Note

Love your writing! Could we please do a cute pregnant reader x Pedro going to and at the SAG awards in honour of our boy winning! 🤍🙏🏼

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x pregnant!reader

a/n: this is how i found out he won btw. I'm so happy for him i cant even, I just love that fucking guy gosh ahhhh (as always this request skipped the line bc it wouldnt make sense in a month)

Gif credits: @tessas-thompson

"thank you" you told him as he emerged from underneath your bump after having slipped your shoes on for you.

Turns out that when you're 7 months and a half pregnant, the most basic tasks like putting on shoes become a two person job.

He only smiled, kissing your belly and then your lips before standing up, offering you a hand to do the same.

"Heels would have looked much better with this dress" you pouted, studying yourself in the mirror,

You hated ballerinas, but again, you weren't really in the condition to wear anything else.

"You look stunning sugar" he promised, kissing the crown of your head

You couldn't help but snort.

As much as he told you so over and over, together with everyone else in your life... you still struggled to see it, especially now in this uncomfortable dress.

"I look like a stuffed turkey" you sighed "and my boobs are so much bigger than when I first tried this dress, now they look a move away from spilling out"

His eyes twinkled with kindness, with love as he placed his hands on your waist and turned you towards him, away from your reflection.

"You're beautiful sweetheart" he promised, one hand now stroking your cheek as your own hands went to his waist "You're sexy and gorgeous and so fucking hot that if Coco wasn't still here I would demonstrate just how much right here right now" he growled, not giving you time to answer before he kissed you, soft at first, and then once you whimpered, it was like a switch turned and he was fiery and passionate and his left hand trailed to your ass and-

"Pedro!" you scolded him quietly, eyeing Coco on the other side of the room.

"she's seen worse"

She had.

Nonetheless, he took a step back, returning his hand to your waist.

"Thank you" you murmured, looking up into his hazel eyes "and by they way, you look very beautiful too"

You could have sworn you saw red staining his cheeks

"thank you baby"

You adjusted his shirt, as you got lost in your own mind.

There he was, you beautiful, talented, Emmy, golden globe and SAG award nominated husband, looking every bit as perfect as ever.

And just like that, tears pooled in your eyes

"what's wrong?" he asked, worried

"I just-" you sniffled, trying to fight the tears as your lips trembled "I-I'm so proud of you"

"aw sweetheart" he cooed, half laughing as he wrapped you into his arms.

He'd gotten used to it now, taking care of your over-emotional self was part of his daily routine.

"Y-you just" you cried "you worked so hard a-" another quiet sob "and n- now you're finally getting the recognition you deserve I-"

"I know baby, I know" he cooed, softly kissing the top of your head "thank you" he smiled, his fingers drawing soothing circles on your back "It means a lot to me too,"

"I love you" you murmured, finally raising your head to look at him

"I love you too honey" he kissed you, laughing softly as he pulled back to see tears still running down your cheeks "You're gonna cry the whole night, aren't you?"

"I made the makeup artist use only waterproof products" was your way of saying yes, yes I'm going to, and yes I've already planned ahead

He chuckled, kissing your forehead as his hands trailed to your bump, soft kicks hitting his palms.

"She's excited" he murmured

"She's proud of her daddy too"

__ __ __

Pedro Pascal.

Pedro P-

Your husband. they had called your husband.

It was probably comical from the outside, seeing the shock on both your faces as you stared blankly at each other, the way your mouth gaped open, while he slapped a hand onto his, it was like- it was like time had stopped, and the word went completely quiet, until- until-

"oh my god" you breathed, throwing your arms around him and hugging him so tight it probably hurt

He didn't dare speak a word as you leaned away, landing a kiss on his mouth as you gripped his face

"go" you laughed, grinning like an idiot as tears glimmered into your eyes "go" you urged again, this time, having him comply.

You watched every step, every move, until he was right in front of the microphone, his award in his hands.

"This is umh" he mumbled "This is wrong for a number of reasons-"

he was in shock, his voice trembling, his eyes watery, but he kept going

"b-but thank you hbo, Bella Ramsey, Craig Mazin, Neil Drukman, Frannie, and -" A shaky sigh fled his mouth, as he chuckled to himself "jeez louise I'm making a fool of myself and my wife is gonna make so much fun of me for it and-"

All the sudden his eyes were on you,

"my wife" he smiled, his smile brighter than the sun "I wanna thank my beautiful, amazing, intelligent, and perfect wife" he said "I love you y/n, I love you and our daughter more than anything in this world and if I'm here today- If I'm here today is mostly because of you"

You were shaking from how hard you were crying, from how happy, ecstatic, and euphoric you were for him.

"You've made me the happiest man on this earth, you've made me a dad, you- you're my everything sweetheart" he beamed "so thank you"

He stopped a moment, as if realizing only now this had all really happened

"And now I'm gonna stop talking 'cause I need to get down there to kiss you and try to make you stop crying" he laughed, ending his speech

"thank you, everybody, really, thank you"

__ __ __

He did exactly as he said,

he held you tight as he kissed you like the world was gonna end tomorrow, like if he didn't he was gonna die

And when he leaned away- when he leaned away time stopped once again, but as he pressed his forehead to yours, as you lost yourself in each other's eyes, you remembered

"You said it was wrong" you said, both your hands holding his face "but it's not" you shook your head, watching his eyes water "you deserve this baby, you do"

"sweetheart-"

"no" you shut him off, your voice hoarse from the sobs, but it didn't matter, you wanted him to know, you needed him to know "No I need you to understand that you do baby" You smiled "that you worked your ass off and that you deserve every single inch of this award" you took a deep breath, steadying your voice as you looked at him, so many unspoken words traveling between you

"ok?" you asked, finally

"ok" he beamed, kissing you again "God I love you so much"

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euphoricfilter · 9 months

Text

come sit on my lap:

pairing: jungkook x afab! reader

genre: porn without plot || smut || established relationship || non-idol au (?)

tags/ warnings: pwp, mentioned masturbation, thigh riding, dick riding, praise kink, unprotected sex (don’t be stupid, this is fiction), creampie, mentioned cum stuffing because it didn’t make the cut. afab! reader (no gendered nicknames are used, terms like pussy is used though)

notes: listened to we are bulletproof pt.1 while writing this so do with that information what you will. yoongi’s part has me creaming myself it’s so delicious

notes 2: slight changes have been made from the original plan, otherwise this would have probably been 10k words of straight smut

my full masterlist || archived masterlist

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

“you’re home early”

jungkook’s gaze flickers to where you’re stood in the doorway of the living room, your eyebrows furrowing. it wasn’t displeasure painted across your face, just curious confusion.

“i missed you” he instead replies, the corners of his lips quirking upwards.

you slip further into the room, used to jungkook’s eyes on you. the rawest form of silent appreciation for the living art that stood before him; perfect in such a human way. jungkook never thought he’d find the right words to describe you. not when you looked so pretty, and perfect, and every other lame excuse of a word that was never really enough to encapsulate your entire existence.

his eyes glaze over the flush of your cheeks, sure to have just gotten out the bath. you liked to treat yourself on your days off, slipping into the hazy water, scented with the fancy bubble bath jungkook liked to treat you to.

you meet his gaze, head tilting in a silent question of what he was doing.

“come sit on my lap” he hums, “been thinking about you all day”

it’s neither a sigh nor a laugh that spills from your lips, maybe amusement. maybe love. maybe an unexplainable emotion that you reserved especially for jungkook, and jungkook only.

“yeah?”

and he nods, taking your hand into his own once you’re close enough. he tugs you down, helping you straddle one of his thighs; exactly where he’d wanted you.

he’d been thinking about this all day. how slick your cunt would get, always so easy to rile up. how he wanted to suck meanly on your poor little clit until you cried, and you begged for him to take the barest hint of mercy on you.

the mere thought of you sat in his lap, desperate for him to bring you that mind-numbing pleasure you loved to much— had his cock hardening in his pants.

if he had any lick of shame, then he might have felt guilt for getting himself off in the bathroom during his lunch break. his cock spit-soaked sticky, fist tugging at his length, a pitiful imitation of what your pussy would feel like squeezing his length until he came into his fist.

“so pretty” his hands slip down to your waist, lithe fingers barely grazing underneath your shirt, his chest deflating at the touch of your warm skin.

his thigh flexes, and you have to bite your lip to stop the moan that threatened to slip out— a flit of pleasure crawling up your body.

and as subtle as you’d like to be, jungkook can’t help the slow smile that pulls at his cheeks. not when he can feel your pussy clenching through your thin sleep shorts.

he wonders how long it’ll take for them to soak through. or how long it’ll take you to beg he run his fingers over your pussy, pressing over your clit. sinking past your walls and pressing meanly over your sweet spot until you’re shaking and begging ever so sweetly.

your hips roll forwards ever so slightly, desperation seeping from every morsel of your body. desperate for the faintest of friction to solve the issue you found yourself facing.

“don’t be shy, baby” jungkook hums, fingers digging into the meat of your hips, “use me”

“don’t say things like that” you whine, hands coming to cover your face, hot embarrassment searing your cheeks the faintest pink.

jungkook’s head tips backwards, low laugh rumbling from his chest. he flexes his thigh, cock throbbing at the moan that gets caught in the back of your throat.

“hands away from your face, come on. you know i love how pretty you look when you feel good” he takes hold of your wrists, tugging your hands to his chest.

your tongue wets your bottom lip as you find your rhythm, hips rocking forward in desperate little circles.

one of your hands slips from jungkook’s hold, thighs straining as you push yourself up. you slide the crotch of your shorts to the side, bare pussy clenching when it come in contact with jungkook’s pants.

“no panties?”

you smile, shaking your head.

you fumble with jungkook’s belt as you rut your hips forward, delicious pleasure spreading up your body with each drag of your clit against his thigh.

“want your cock” you press a kiss to his jaw, warm breath tickling his skin.

“yeah?” his voice comes out breathless.

“mhmm”

jungkook helps you, undoing his button as you push yourself to kneel over this thigh. you moan when his bare skin knocks against your clit, lifting his hips to pull his underwear down, fabric pooling at his ankles as you slip your shorts off.

your fingers wrap around his shaft, spit dribbling from your tongue onto the tip of his cock.

you jolt forwards when curious fingers part your labia, teasing over you hole.

“fuck” you whine when a finger slips into you, curling as a thumb rubs over your clit.

you squeeze his cock, thumbing the underside of the head, smearing the pearly little beads of pre cum down his shaft.

“spit on it, baby” jungkook looks at you through hooded eyes, tongue toying with his lip ring as you bounce ever so slightly on the second finger jungkook slips into your pussy.

you spit into your palm, mind too muddled to cringe at the stickiness that clings to your skin as you curl your fingers back around his cock, wrist flicking how you know he likes it.

“so good for me” he groans, hips bucking up into your hand, “come here”

his fingers slip from your cunt, helping you fully straddle his lap. his cock slides against your thigh, trail of pre cum painting your skin sticky. weird, primal satisfaction buzzing through jungkook’s veins as he marks you up with his leaking arousal.

you take hold of jungkook’s face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks.

“gimme a kiss” you whisper against his lips, “please”

“so polite” he murmurs, tilting his face, lips pillowing yours.

your mouth parts, breathy sigh licked up by jungkook as he presses his tongue past your lips.

blindly you take ahold of his cock, tugging at it once before you line him up with your entrance.

your hips rock forwards, folds parting around his cock. fizzling pleasure vibrating within you with each nudge of his cockhead against your clit.

“don’t tease” his voice comes out low, tongue prodding at your bottom lip. so shiny, a mixture of both your spit mingled and threatening to drip down your chin.

“sorry” you lift your hips up, tip of his cock pressing against your entrance. your hands brace on his shoulders, thighs quivering with each thick inch of jungkook’s cock sliding further between your walls.

“oh fuck” you moan, head falling onto his shoulder as you bottom out.

jungkook’s fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, stomach tightening in pleasure as your walls clench around his cock.

“you okay?” jungkook asks, hips barely rutting up into you.

“yeah, just feels nice” you trail a finger between your bodies, fingers thrumming ever so slightly over your clit.

arousal soaks jungkook’s cock, dribble of slick wetting his balls.

“might get tired though” you tell him as you sit up a little bit, hips rocking forward.

“i’ll help you” he smiles, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

you hum at that. feeling a twinge of a burn in your thighs as you push yourself up, head of his cock still sheathed within you before you drop back down his full length.

you think the air is punched from your lungs, hand that had been playing with your clit balancing yourself on his knee.

“shit, baby” jungkook groans, pulling you up his cock from your ass, “loosen up a bit”

you shake your head, mouth falling open, a moan cutting you off when his cock knocks against your sweet spot. desperation and adrenaline a fiery combination that has you pushing through the pain in your thighs, pussy swallowing his cock over and over until you’re leaking slick, and jungkook can’t help the moan that spills from his lips.

“jungkook” you cry, “s’ so good”

you feel yourself hurdling closer to an orgasm, each rugged stroke of his cock, and each brutal brush against your sweet spot sending you into overdrive.

“gonna cum?” he asks, fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts up into you. merciless and be chases his own high, rutting up into your with a new found vigour that has you hiccuping— nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.

you wilt into his chest, fingers curling into his shirt as you reach your peak; quickly tumbling down the other side as jungkook’s balls slap wetly against your ass, pleasure fueled moans a harmony with your own.

you feel jungkook’s cock twitch as you ride out your high, cunt creamy leaking down his balls as he cums; coating your walls sticky with his seed.

he ruts up into you once more, hands pulling you down as far as you can on his cock as he empties himself out inside of you. thick pulses of cum spilling into you.

“fuck” his head knocks against the back of the couch, “you’re milking me” he laughs, balls tightening when your walls clench around his softening length.

your chest stutters for a breath, hips twitching at the aftermath of your orgasm.

“you’re insatiable” jungkook licks his bottom lip when you circle your hips. “gonna have to give me a minute to recover”

jungkook lays you back, fumbling around for the small pillows propped up against the arm of the couch. he pulls the bottom half of your body up by your ankles, slipping two pillows under your hips.

“no clenching. and no spilling; i plan to stuff you full tonight” he raises an eyebrow, a silent challenge to disobey.

he runs his fingers through your slit, barely dipping between your walls to push his seed back inside of you.

“think you can do that?”

you nod, “don’t make me cum, otherwise it’s gonna make a mess of the pillows”

“you’ll be making more than a mess of the pillows” his nose scrunches. and you’re unsure if it’s bubbly love that fills your body, possibly a new wave of arousal.

maybe both.

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook #bts #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fic #jungkook one shot #bts jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts non idol au #bts fic

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assassinsblade · 4 months

Text

Forget Me Not | 3

Azriel and you try to navigate life around each other after his mistake.

WC: 5.3k

Warnings: TW: SA!!! Please do not read if this is triggering for you. Blood, injury, death, angst, feelings, nightmares.

a/n: Reader is sorting through her emotions so don’t give her too much shit for not being mean YET. Don’t think Azriel is done suffering. He’s got some stuff coming to him in part 4…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

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

Azriel’s presence was like the sun radiating onto your skin. You felt warm, but you didn’t know if it was because of the deep longing you didn’t think you could ever get rid of, or because you felt so out of place. His warmth had the potential to comfort you but also to burn you, and after all that had happened, you found yourself expecting the latter.

Things had changed so quickly. Days ago, you were giddy as you approached the male nearby, excited to talk about new books you had read, your interest in continuing your training, a sweets store you had heard about in Velaris.

And Azriel had always been sweet. He would listen to you and make suggestions of his own. He would take an interest in whatever you were passionate about that day, and he always went out of his way to make sure you were comfortable.

Unless Elain was there.

It was if her existence hypnotized the shadowsinger, trapping his attention onto her only. And maybe you could have lived with the scraps you got from him each day, if it wasn’t for how easily he left you behind.

The room was so uncomfortable, so anxiety-inducing, that you began to shiver under your robe. You crossed your arms over yourself to mimic some kind of warmth and comfort, knowing you shouldn’t attempt to receive any from him.

You could hear the clanging of ceramic and metal in the kitchen. The splashing of boiling water into a glass, the stirring of honey into the herbal tea, the clanking of the spoon on the mug. Azriel was always quiet. But he seemed to be making an effort to let you know exactly what he was doing at each point in time.

When he finally grasped the mug into two large palms and turned toward the table, you made sure to keep your head down.

You wondered if he could hear your heartbeat. If he could hear how it still betrayed you after everything, somehow still reaching out to him, speeding up in his presence as if getting ready to overflow with love for him. That made you hate yourself a little bit more.

His movements were careful as he slid the mug in front of you, slowly taking a seat on the other side of the table. You didn’t say anything as your fingers hesitantly found the steaming drink, allowing its temperature to ease the shaking in your bones.

He was watching you, you could feel it. You so badly wanted to know what was going through his mind, but you also couldn’t find it in yourself to speak to him. He had hurt you so incredibly bad.

If he hadn’t left without you, you would never have faced that male on your way home. You would never have to see his dead eyes staring back at you every time you blinked, feel the blood coating your fingers every time you moved them, smell his arousal when you crossed your legs or touched your neck.

And even if that male hadn’t been there, Azriel had forgotten you. You obviously didn’t take up enough of his mind for him to spare you the briefest thought. Meanwhile, all you ever thought about was him.

You felt like such a fool.

He swallowed harshly, wetting his lips before opening his mouth to say something.

You couldn't do this. You didn't want to hear this.

You quickly got to your feet, the hot tea spilling a bit onto your fingers in your haste. You winced, quickly wiping the liquid onto your robe and trying not to think of the same hot substance that had coated the same area only two days ago.

It was so warm, so thick, and it dripped down your fingers, down your neck.

Breathe.

Your chest rose and fell in sporadic breaths, and you stumbled a step back to get some distance.

Azriel always had a way of disarming you, both physically and emotionally. But you were too overwhelmed right now, unable to process everything that had happened to you in that alleyway, let alone what had happened with your friend.

Shakily, you breathed out, "I'm going to the other room - to the library."

He nodded, following every movement you made. His soft eyes tracked your breaths, your shaking, the way your wet fingertips wiped against your robe.

"I could join you-“

“No.”

He winced. The word had come so forcefully out of your mouth, you barely had time to think about it. And now you could almost see the hurt weaving through his chest, the way his breathing had hitched and caused him to still.

“I just… I’d like to read for a bit. Thank you, though.”

Then your feet were moving, tea forgotten on the table. You just had to make it to the door and then you could breathe.

"I'm sorry."

Azriel's voice floated through the air behind you, but it almost didn't sound like him. Not like the immovable spymaster you had come to know. Never had he sounded weak before... not until now.

You froze, back still turned to him, unsure if you could look at him for this. You could hear his feet shuffling, as if he were now standing and trying to control himself and stay put.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated, voice breaking.

You swallowed down your own tears, the emotions clogging your airway.

"I thought you were coming for me, you know. When I was being attacked. I really thought you'd come."

A sound of anguish slipped passed his lips, but you couldn't stay to listen. You forced yourself to move forward, to take each step with strength until you could make it to the sanctuary of the library. And once you made it there, you clicked the door shut gently, breathing deeply as you sat down on the couch and collapsed into yourself.

This routine went on for days.

A shadow was always near you, monitoring your movements, your reactions, and your emotions. At first it bothered you, but after a day or two, you began to take comfort in the little thing. It was reassuring knowing something was watching over you, especially when your mind kept convincing your body you were in danger.

Your anxiety was at an all-time high, a brief image of that night sending your body into fight-or-flight before you could gain control of your mind and where you were at.

Most nights you stayed awake staring at the wall rather than sleeping. Every time you closed your eyes you felt muscle ripping underneath your fingertips and blood coating your hands. So you instead laid in silence, occasionally having a one-sided conversation with the shadow in the corner of your room.

Some of the inner circle had come to see you, although you knew Rhys was sending them over slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you.

Mor had come the day following your first interaction with Azriel. She had apologized profusely, despite the fact she hadn't technically done anything wrong. Then, she attempted to take your mind off things. She had brought snacks and gossip, and she had even tried to tell you an embarrassing story of Rhys she swore he would kill her for sharing.

You could only listen to half of what she was saying before your mind would wander, though. Before your body began to feel separate from you, as if it had been taken that night and was no longer your own. You felt uncomfortable in your own skin at times, and the feeling would come out of nowhere. It made you want to itch at the flesh, scratch it until it revealed your former self underneath, clean and untouched.

Cassian had invited you back to training whenever you wished to join. He said the Valkyries would be happy to have you, but he did offer to take up your private lessons again as well.

You told him you'd think about it.

You had seen Nesta around the house only once when you had come out for dinner. She had given you a small smile as you sat down at the table and took it upon herself to control the conversation between herself, Cassian, and Azriel.

Azriel hadn't spoken much that night, only giving a nod or a hum when addressed. Sometimes you felt him looking at you, but other times you felt him unable to meet your gaze as well.

You had trouble doing the same.

You wanted to see his hazel eyes, as much as you hated yourself for it. You wanted to hit him and curse him for leaving you that night, for not thinking about you as much as you thought about him. You wanted to scream and rage at what you had gone through, to allow the fire burning inside of your chest to catch fire to your skin and disintegrate your past and your feelings for him.

Instead, you kept quiet, and you kept to yourself.

You knew that your friends were worried. You saw the glances Cassian sent your way, felt the gentle caress on your mind when Rhys wanted to check in. But you couldn't find it in yourself to pretend like you were fine. You weren't. You couldn't sleep, you could barely keep food down, and you felt like your heart had been ripped out of your chest.

It wasn't until four days later that you were finally able to fall asleep, the sleepless nights catching up to you and pulling you down into the dark depths of your mind.

And you really wished you had been able to keep your eyes open, because as soon as you fell under, hazel eyes filled your subconscious.

He was just as beautiful in your dreams as he was in real life. Sharp cheekbones, bright eyes, a soft smile that always looked like he was amused or trying not to laugh. His hair somehow looked like it was both styled and like he had rolled out of bed, running his hands through it a few times. And his stance, the way he towered over you in your dream was so like his lively physical presence that it made you step closer to him.

You felt safe, you felt-

"Elain's here," Dream Azriel spoke. You looked up from his chest to see him gazing over your shoulder toward the front door of Rita's, at the lovely doe-eyed female making her way into the crowded room.

You could only watch as her brown eyes met Azriel's hazel ones, how they both melted at the sight of one another. His scarred hands found yours - hands you found so much comfort in - and they pulled your own from his chest, moving past you and toward Elain.

His back was to you again. He looked relaxed, at peace, happy.

And then you blinked.

In a second he was gone, the beautiful high fae with him.

A pit formed in your stomach.

Another blink.

A cold alleyway, your head hitting stone.

Blink.

Tearing clothes, too soft-fingertips.

Blink.

A sharp pain, flowing red, dead eyes.

"What a lucky male I was to run into you..."

You jolted in bed, your eyes snapping open, chest heaving in breaths. Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe.

Gods, you couldn't escape it, couldn't escape the blood on your fingers or the cracking in your chest. You couldn't breathe, you were choking on your own tears, you were going to suffocate-

You hastily threw the blankets from your bed, stumbling up and onto the wooden floor. Your feet slipped underneath you, your whole body coated in a thin sheen of sweat, but you kept moving until you were pushing the door open clumsily. Chest tight, breaths short, you moved erratically through the hall.

Your teeth were chattering, your sweat-soaked skin freezing your body and causing goosebumps to form. Your thin nightgown did little to provide any warmth.

You found yourself outside of Cassian's door, wanting needing someone to help. Needing to know someone was there to protect you from your own mind, from the memories that plagued you. Needing a steady presence, anything-

But you couldn't possibly knock. He was in there with his mate, for gods sakes. That would be so inappropriate, you couldn't...

Gods, you really couldn't breathe. Your chest was caving in, you were sure of it. Feet stumbled backward away from the door, leaning your back up against the wall.

Eyes squeezed shut, hand pressed to your chest, you hear, "Breathe."

His voice made more tears fall from the corner of your eyes, a harsh gasp sounding from your throat as some air was sucked into your lungs.

Gods, you missed him. You missed him so much. You hated it, you hated him. Make it stop.

"Shhh," he soothed you, scarred fingers brushing your hair back from your face before his palms gently cupped your cheeks. "Breathe, sweetheart."

You forced your eyes open and met his hazel ones. Filled with concern, they guided you through his directions. In. Out. A hand placed by his own onto his chest. In. Out.

He nodded. He encouraged.

"That's it," he whispered. "Just like that."

You shook your head, your breaths turning into sobs. "Azriel-" you choked out.

And then his arms were around you, holding you against his chest. His large form engulfed your own, and you could feel the muscles of his biceps, smell the clean fabric of his black shirt, hear his steady heartbeat underneath your ear.

His hand stroked through your hair, but his arms stayed tight around you, as if he was just as terrified in that moment.

"You're okay," he reassured. "You're in the House of Wind. You are surrounded by Cassian, Nesta, and myself. You are safe."

The sounds you let out were indescribable, and you knew you'd be embarrassed in the morning, no doubt having awoken the two mates behind the door across from you.

"Shhh," he soothed again. "I've got you."

No, no, no. You shook your head. He shouldn't be comforting you. He shouldn't be making you feel better.

But he was. Stupid, stupid girl.

He pulled back slowly, using both hands to cup the sides of your face once again, pushing back the hair wet with tears. He bent down, attempting to make himself smaller so he could directly search your puffy eyes.

Thumbs swiped across your damp cheeks and your eyes fluttered closed involuntarily.

You loved him. You loved him so much, how could he have done this to you-

"Do you want me to get Cassian?" He asked softly. There was no judgement in the question, only a willingness to help. He had to have seen you contemplating knocking on the door, much to your embarrassment.

You shook your head, still regaining your breath.

He was silent for a moment, his hands still moving in your hair, stroking your cheeks.

"Do you want me to stay with you? Until you fall asleep?"

For some reason the question brought more tears to your eyes, and you looked down, away from the kindness flowing through his own.

You did, but you didn't. You had always felt safer with Azriel around, from the very moment you met him. But that might have changed. Did you trust him to keep you safe now? To truly see you when you needed him?

But wasn't that what he was doing now? Seeing you? Helping you?

What if Elain showed up, what if-

"I can stay in that one chair if you want. Or lay on the floor?" His voice was as gentle as his touch.

You broke. Your body still shaking with fear and anxiety, you knew you could hate yourself tomorrow, but tonight you needed him. And you needed him to stay this time, not to leave you alone.

You told yourself it didn't matter, because you just needed someone to be present with you, not necessarily him.

You nodded, and Azriel tracked the movement with his eyes before letting out a soft "okay" in confirmation.

No judgement. No expectation.

His hand was light on your waist as he led you back to your room, tightening only once to help as you stumbled.

Then he was guiding you to your bed, pulling the covers over your body still shaking with trepidation and the cold. He moved briefly to the windows, ensuring that they were locked before pulling the curtains closed and making his way to the chair tucked into the corner of your room. He pulled it slightly out, enough to be close to you but not enough to make you uncomfortable, and settled into it.

It took him a moment to get comfortable. Once he was still, however, he let a few of his shadows go and they swarmed around you, weaving through your hair and across the skin of your face in a gentle caress that helped to ease some of your trembling.

"Sleep," Azriel spoke quietly. "I'll be here."

You didn't have to voice your doubts to him. The room filled with tension at his words, at the obvious contradiction they posed to the other night when he had not, in fact, been there.

"I'm not leaving," he said to the unspoken thoughts. His voice was firm, confident, even if a tad sorrowful.

You only turned on your side and closed your eyes.

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

A small bang against your door woke you. It was disorienting, waking after finally getting a good night's rest. But that didn't stop yourself from turning your head toward the muffled noises in your doorway.

The wood shielded who was on the other side, but you heard them clear enough, the words sounding slightly jumbled or as if they were spoken from underwater.

"You best be careful, Az."

Cassian. And he didn't sound happy.

"What are you implying, brother?"

Azriel's voice was tight, as if he was balancing precariously and one push would send him over the edge. But you knew Azriel, and he wanted to be pushed, was welcoming of the freedom to let go of what he normally controlled so tightly.

You wondered how long they had been talking to get to this point of tension.

"I'm not implying anything. I'm telling you that you've always been selfish when it comes to females. If you are giving your care and attention to her as a way of making her feel better, that is fine, but if you are doing it for yourself-"

"Myself?" His voice rose slightly at the accusation.

"Can you honestly say your actions aren't influenced by guilt? We've all seen the way she looks at you now, behaves around you. If you are sulking in order to get her to forgive you, you've reached a new low, Azriel."

"You listen to me," Azriel spit out, and you could picture his jaw clenching, the way he stepped up close to Cassian in anger. A beast unleashed, and Cassian ready to take his rage. "She could hate me for the rest of my life, hit me, never speak to me again, and I would always try to provide her with a sense of safety again. Do I feel guilty? Of course I fucking do! I would give the wings off my fucking back to be able to go back to that night. I will never forgive myself for what happened, for not fucking thinking. And I will, deservingly so, live with that for the rest of my life. But she shouldn't have to... so I am doing what I can to help. To see her smile again, to be able to eat and sleep. Okay? Do I need your fucking permission, Cass?"

It was quiet. You tried to steady your breathing at his words.

Cassian sighed. "Do you honestly know what you're doing?"

Azriel must have made a motion for his brother to continue, because Cassian went on, his voice dropping to the point you had to adjust your position a bit to hear. "This isn't just about the attack. We have all seen the way she looked at you before all of this..."

No, Cassian, gods-

"She hates me," Azriel argued.

"Maybe now," Cassian agreed. "But she didn't before. Didn't you ever notice how you were the person she always wanted to talk to? Whenever she was excited about something, you were who she wanted to share it with."

You heard their feet shift on the hardwood floors, the material creaking with their movement. They must have relaxed a bit, the tension ebbing away as Cassian sighed once again.

"Listen, I'm not telling you to not care about her. I obviously know you want what's best for her. But taking care of her now, because Rhys forbid you from seeing Elain, because your actions set off a tragic event... Don't make this harder for her."

Azriel was quiet for a moment, taking in Cassian's words.

"I don't know where to go from here," he said. He sounded so broken. "I had never been so afraid to lose someone as when I saw you carrying her in that night. And I don't even know why. We were friends, of course, but in that moment I wanted to die. I would have killed everyone in Velaris to know who did that to her. I have never felt like that before. Completely unraveled and uncontrolled."

"What about E-"

"I don't fucking care about Elain!" He sounded frustrated, like he was clenching his fists or pulling on the material of his shirt. "I'm not here because I can't see Elain, I'm not here because of guilt, I'm here because I am terrified that if I take my eyes off of her for a second, she won't be okay."

Your heart gave a traitorous beat in your chest. You didn't know if it was because of his mention of Elain or because his words showed genuine care.

"You all can hate me, can think I'm some selfish bastard who is trying to earn himself back into good graces. A liar who couldn't possibly get over Elain that quickly. All I know is I haven't been able to think about Elain since that night. All I can think about is the way she used to give me snarky comments about my book choices or my training style. The way she used to bring me back an extra treat from her favorite bakery in Velaris. And I want her to have that joy again. I don't care if I am forever hated and feel this soul-shredding guilt in my chest every day for the rest of my life, I need her to survive this."

"Azriel," Cassian breathed sympathetically.

"So I am going to be there for her as much as she allows me. I will sit in that chair every night until she kicks me out and I will sleep instead during the day. I will make sure she is eating and sleeping and conversing with her friends, but don't for a second think I want her to forgive me. She deserves to hate me, Cassian. And I deserve that hate too."

Your heart twinged in your chest. You have always wanted Azriel to care for you, but not like this. Even if his care went past his guilt, you couldn't help but look at his track record, his infatuation with females who needed help, needed saving.

Did you only catch his interest once you were broken too? Did he need you to be injured to be able to find a purpose in you?

No. You wouldn't be his pet project.

You would get through this, you would become yourself again. And you would do it without his help.

"Just give her time. Give yourself time too. There are a lot of emotions happening right now. It can be difficult to navigate and understand."

A wisp curled into your hair - your assigned shadow.

"Hey," you greeted it softly. "I'm okay. You can go back to him."

It ignored you, swirling across your skin instead. Shadow or not, you needed to heal without Azriel. Without his conflicting emotions, his back-and-forth, his guilt, and the overwhelming way it all made you feel. You had to forgive him on your own, and you had to heal from the assault separately as well.

You pulled the covers off of you before standing up from the bed, no longer listening to the conversation happening outside of your room. Instead, you dressed yourself in something other than loungewear for the first time in a week. The clothing was sturdy and protective, yet flexible. Then, you pulled your hair back tightly, wrapping the strands in a ponytail before making your way to the door and swinging it open.

Both males turned to look at your unexpected interruption. Azriel looked like he was about to fall to his knees at the sight of you while Cassian quickly masked his surprise with a smirk.

"Sleeping Beauty is finally awake."

You ignored his teasing. "I'd like to start training again. Today."

Cassian’s brows rose at your statement. “Think you’re ready to go up against me already, sweetheart?”

You scoffed. “I’ve had like five lessons, Cass. I’ve never been ready to go up against you.”

He ignored your unwillingness to play along. “Were you thinking of joining Valkyrie training or doing one-on-one?”

Azriel shifted at the question. Valkyrie training would involve his presence at times, no doubt. From the sound of it, he had been helping some of the other priestesses plenty. He really did have a thing for helping broken females.

“One-on-one. At least at first. At a certain point, it could be good to transition to a group… If that’s alright with the others.”

“I don’t see it being a problem. Do you, Az?” Cassian slammed a hand down on his brother’s shoulder, the sound echoing in the hallway.

Azriel grimaced at the hit, but he didn’t move Cassian’s grip. “No, you should join whenever you feel ready.”

You nodded, not meeting his stare. Instead, you kept your head high and focused on Cassian. “So… are you free today?”

“Tonight,” he corrected. “Meet me up in the training ring around 9. Or I can come get you-“

“I can meet you up there.”

“Alright.” He gave you a nod, shaking Azriel’s shoulder in a farewell, before taking a step back. He left with a call over his shoulder, “Be ready to sweat!”

It was quiet in the hall as his footsteps faded in your ears. Azriel stood still, but you could feel his eyes on you, waiting for you to lead the situation.

You swallowed, turning slightly to finally meet his eye. He stood up a little straighter.

“I need to borrow one of your daggers for training.”

Your voice was not harsh, but it did not hold its past warmth when you addressed him. His brows scrunched in confusion, and slight concern, at your request.

“Why do you need a dagger?”

You nonchalantly pointed to your throat. His eyes trailed the silvery scar before meeting your own once again. He shuffled on his feet, biting his lip in hesitation.

You interrupted his train of thought before things got too awkward. “I need one that is similar to that night. I’d like to practice with it. Make sure I don’t freeze in the future.”

It had never been like this with him. Bland, to-the-point, methodical. Before, your conversations had been filled with yours and his interests, some banter, and always happiness. Even when one of you were down, it was never this empty.

And you could tell by Azriel’s hesitation that he didn’t like the idea of you using one of his daggers - either for the specific purpose of confronting your trauma or just using it at all. Maybe he didn’t want to share his weapons with anyone. After all, he’d only ever shared one with Elain-

“Okay.” His voice was quiet, and he licked his lips before taking in a breath. “Do you want to pick out which one you’d like to use?”

You nodded, and he signaled for you to follow him, assumedly to his room.

You had only been in his space once before. About a month ago, you had borrowed a book from him about the history of the Night Court. When you had knocked to leave the book by his door, he had told you to come in, taking a break from the paperwork at his desk to chat with you about the text.

That felt like so long ago.

His room now was in more disarray than that last time. His sheets were rumpled, presumably from him jumping out of bed when he had heard you in the hall the night before. Weapons were discarded on his nightstand, one peaking out from underneath his pillow. Documents were strewn across his desk, both organized and haphazardly placed, pens of different colors scattered across the pages.

The entire room smelled like him, and it was almost like being hugged in a warm blanket. Despite what had happened, your body still associated his scent with comfort. You wanted to hit yourself, to knock the senseless reaction out of your mind.

"Over here," he called, walking over to a cabinet on the far end of his room. He unlocked it and opened the doors to reveal a wide range of sharp objects, immaculately displayed and taken care of. He eyed them, and you noticed his gaze turn briefly to the scar on your neck before he cleared his throat. "Choose any you'd like."

You stepped close to the cabinet, fingers reaching out to graze across some of the hilts. Many of these were beautiful, you had to admit. You didn't want beautiful, though. You needed one that would help you conquer your fear.

To the right of the top shelf, sat a longer dagger that glinted silver from the moonlight casting in through the windows. The hilt was a dark charcoal, a leathery texture wrapping around the handle before sharp edges shot out underneath the blade. They looked like frozen waves turned black under midnight, devastating and destructive. Your finger stroked one carefully, and you felt Azriel stiffen beside you.

"This one."

He was quiet. You turned to face him, dropping your hand from the dagger. "May I take it?"

"That one," he paused, "has been used in many... harrowing interrogations."

You shrugged. "Then it will do its job."

He only looked at you. "You may take whatever you need."

The words held more than just permission to take the dagger. You refused to acknowledge the vulnerability from him, though, to acknowledge his willingness to please you, and instead reached forward toward the nightmarish weapon.

"Thank you," you said, grip tight around the hilt. He gave you a nod, and then you were turning on your heel, leaving the room before he could utter another word.

Dagger in hand, you made your way back to your room. You gripped it as hard as you could, memorizing the feel of your muscles straining.

Those muscles saved you and would save you again.

As you tensed your fingers harder and harder, you let the fear and sadness in your veins transform into something different, something near exhilarating: anger.

You were angry. And you would use that anger to get through this.

No matter who it needed to be aimed at.

#azriel angst #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #azriel/reader #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you

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bunnycvnts · 1 month

Text

rafe being told ‘i love you’ for the first time!

pairing: rafe x reader

warnings: fluffy as fuck

his arm was tightly wrapped around you as the two of you lay in his plush bed, the curtains pulled closed, and his LED lights shone a soft purple color. rafes favorite movie played on the tv, but neither of you were paying attention, too wrapped up in the sweet kisses shared between you. your lips felt like warm, soft pillows pressing into his; he could never get enough of the way you kissed him. like if you kissed him too roughly, he’d pull away. you were always gentle, making sure every emotion was felt carefully through your lips, comforting his soul. that wasn’t to say you weren’t fervent sometimes, but you kept a kind of softness he’d never felt before.

you two had spent the entire day swaddled in blankets, switching between movies, sharing kisses and sweet whispers, and making sure you were as close as possible. his hand was either around your shoulder or splayed across your stomach or hips, never letting you far from his reach. he’d been struggling lately, with harmful thoughts and feelings clouding his brain, and his only escape was his pretty little girlfriend, who hadn’t had a care in the world. being with you was like floating; his worries went away, and all he could see was you. a bright light in his sea of darkness.

he wasn’t sure why you were with him and was constantly on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. for you to realize he was psychotic, angry, and hard to be around, like everyone else had. that you’d turn around one day and not look back, leaving him behind without a second thought. he wasn’t shy with his arguments or anger; he was never in the right mindset to hide it from you. but you’d never questioned him, only ever tried to calm him. you’d saved many people from feeling his wrath and saved him so many lectures from his father. you weren’t trying to change him; he knew that. you were just trying to ease the burden he felt weighing on his brain.

days like this were his escape with you. spending hours feeling your soft skin pressed against his, your warm breath on his neck anytime you’d whisper about the movie or giggle at his reactions, your fingertips trailing down his shirtless chest, tracing random scribbles and hearts onto his skin. the way you’d blush anytime his hands crept a little too close to your ass or wiggled their way under your shirt to feel your warmth. it was practically a fever dream for him. no one had ever spent so much time carelessly lying around with him, not worrying about what they’d do next, only enjoying the moment with him. the first girl to make him feel something without having to involve sex.

he was broken from his thought process by your fingers tapping against his cheek.

“whatcha thinkin’ about over there?” a soft smile was on your lips, and he sat up a little to get a better look at you.

“cheesy shit. got my mind all messed up, ya know?” his response had made you giggle—that redness he loved returning to your cheeks. you pursed your lips as a silent gesture to kiss you. his lips met yours with a quick, gentle touch, and he only pulled away slightly to look at you. you were looking right back at him, a look in your eyes he couldn’t pinpoint.

suddenly, you sat up, throwing your leg over his hip to straddle him, and ran your fingers through his hair while his hands met your hips and squeezed lightly. “you’re so handsome.”

your fingertips trailed his cheek, and your thumb pulled on his bottom lip. he groaned and rested his head back against the headboard. his stomach fluttering at your words and the softness they held.

“stop it.” he knew you meant it, but hearing it turned his heart into mush, and he could only let himself be so soft.

“i love you.” the confession spilled from your lips before you could stop yourself. rafes head snapped forward to meet your gaze, looking at you confused. it was your turn to groan, and you pushed yourself off of his lap.

“stop, don’t look at me like that.” you ran your hands through your hair, feeling somewhat distraught at his reaction. had it been too soon? did he not feel the same way? you peeked over at him, doing a double take at his watery eyes.

“hey, i’m sorry; i shouldn’t have just thrown that on you. i can go.” you rushed to sit up and get off the bed, but were stopped when he pulled you into him. he kissed you with all the softness he could muster, both of his hands on your cheeks.

“no. i’m sorry. no one has ever said that to me before. no one i thought really meant it, at least. i love you, too. seriously. as mushy and corny as that sounds.” his confession saddened you but warmed you at the same time.

you rested your head on his chest, pressing small kisses to his skin and muttering little ‘i love yous’ after each one. blood rushed to his cheeks, and little laughs fell from his lips when you’d kiss ticklish spots. he felt emotions he couldn’t describe, but his heart was racing and his stomach felt like a zoo was shuffling around in him.

he pulled you up by the collar of your shirt and kissed you again, whispering something against your lips.

“my fucking girl.”

taglist: @sunkissedrafe @cxsmiclore @mousie101 @ditzyzombiesblog @judessangel

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pascalpvnk · 2 months

Text

take it from me

pairing: latino!joel miller x f!afab!reader

summary: joel is a simple man who simply finds pleasure in pleasing you.

warnings: moodboard used for aesthetic purposes - does not represent the reader description, 18+ MDNI, no timeline, no specified ages, no mention of sarah or ellie, LATINO JOEL (most translations within the text except for some reused pet names/common phrases). This is porn with minimal plot (but unrelated plot I canon—his favorite artist is Linda Ronstadt and I stand by it.), Joel maneuvers reader, manhandling essentially, no other descriptions of reader other than nipple piercings, body worship(?), Joel’s filthy fucking mouth, mention of thigh riding, oral (both receiving), unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, mentions of intense emotions, aftercare.

word count: 3.3k

HOW TO SUPPORT PALESTINE // IMPORTANT FOR TLOU READERS & WRITERS

a/n: fun fact, I’m a virgin, so if it seems far fetched it’s probably because it is. anyways, a special shoutout to ramon nomar for being the muse for this piece, another to @mrsswilliams for beta-ing and fueling my horny antics, thank you to my spanish teachers for guiding me to this moment (probably not your intention but I digress), and to you for taking the time to be here and hopefully enjoying! happy reading xx (banners & dividers by @saradika-graphics)

Addicting is the only word Joel Miller can muster up to describe you as his mind clouds with lust each night he’s alone, bucking into his own fist and spilling his sins after he’d met you. Of course you’re beautiful and charming above all things, but he can’t help the way his cock stirs after simply a phone call from you describing your day. How you miss him and want to meet up again soon.

Joel isn’t the brightest man, which he is very self aware of. But what he craves to learn about you, what your favorite flower is, favorite ice cream, your desires, outranks any level of intelligence a man could hold. He wants to please you, not for a superficial reason to use against you down the line. He enjoys your smile and the way your eyes crinkle, your dimple making an appearance on occasion, and it makes him feel good. The little things shine a light in his chest, ever the people pleaser.

However, he finds a red, hot desire to rouse you, make you squirm under his tender touch. To watch every fiber of control and tension dissipate from your being.

But he’s cautious.

He’s treading on thin ice within himself. He wants to give and give and give, but he’d never forgive himself if he overwhelmed and alarmed you. Your wit keeps him on his toes, tempting and trying his willpower to take things at a palatable pace.

But he’s just a man at his simplest form, a glutton for pleasure wanting to carve himself a home within you and give everything he has to please you.

You found yourself perched upon his lap, a forgotten movie droning in the background as hands and lips explore new territory. Joel firmly guided your hips, firstly against his own, then he aided you across his denim clad thigh after you wriggled your pants to the floor.

Choruses of Spanish praises, filth, ‘mamita, use me’, and phrases alike rolled off his tongue effortlessly as he found pleasure within your own. Consuming every moan, gasp, and ‘don’t stop’ you were so eager to give.

He struggled to deny your beautiful pleas to get him off as he had for you. You knew he wanted you to, there was no doubt in your mind considering the prominent bulge straining and begging you to. He reassured you, or rather made excuses for himself to ease the guilt he felt at your subtle disappointment.

I’m not coming in my jeans in front of the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.

You said you had work in the morning, anyhow. We outta get’cha home, preciosa.

Joel kissed you softly as he pulled up your pants, grabbed his keys, opened his truck door for you, waited at red lights, and finally as he dropped you off at your apartment building, sealing the night with melted wax, branding himself on your heart until you meet next.

Made it home okay, sweetheart. Hope to see you again soon.

And he does.

His head is already spinning at the thought of going out with you again. He’s showered, trimmed, even ironed his flannel before making sure it’s buttoned and tucked properly. Well rested is not one of the qualities he’s adorning—no thanks to you running his imagination rampant—but the adrenaline he feels, and the coffee he drank at noon, make up for his lack of preparedness.

At the end of the day, those things don’t even matter. Joel Miller makes it as far as his front door when you ring, bringing you inside with the intention of grabbing his own keys. His hands find you instead, your face in a gentle caress as he compliments your attire, your appearance as a whole, and your waist as he kisses you with increasing fervor. You don’t stop him, and he doesn’t stop himself.

“Ay dios. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you all day,” he mumbles against your neck, walking you backwards to his bedroom. His shirt wrinkles under your tight grip, suffocating him until you pop each button open one by one. You leave him in his black undershirt, half untucked in his dark washed jeans.

The back of your knees find his mattress before you even realize, forcing you to sit parallel with his waist. He takes his time, always calculated with his hands on every sweet spot he can reach. Joel cups your jaw, admiring your blown out pupils and the raw lust overtaking your features.

“Wanna take good care of ya, now,” he soothes. “Just say the word and I’ll stop, you know I’ll stop for ya, promise.”

It’s half of a promise to you, half of him asking you to promise to tell him if it becomes too much. You nod, reaching for him once again.

“No, chiquita,” he holds your hand to his chest. “¿Me prometes? You promise me?”

“I promise,” you say clearly and wholeheartedly. “On my life.”

With your renewed consent, he folds himself over to kiss you deeply. His tongue dances with yours, similarly to a few nights prior but with increased desperation. Fingertips graze up your sides, nerves twitching under his subtle touch, only unlatching your lips to lift your top over your head. His eyes fixate on the pebbled flesh and metal protruding your bra, making quick work of the clasp before removing it.

“I knew you had something hiding underneath this,” he muses, toying with the fabric of your bra between his first two fingers. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any prettier, hm?”

Joel skims his thumbs on the underside of both of your breasts, attaching his mouth to your collarbone. He suckles your delicate skin, committing the taste of your sweet musk and desire to his memory. He softly licks over one of your nipples, taking in how your head tips back with a sigh. He brings it into his mouth, nipping and assuaging the pierced bud until you manage to free his shirt out of his waistline.

“Paciencia, amor. Patience, sweetheart, please,” he pacifies as he guides your hand out of reach from his belt. “Just wanna savor you. Can I?”

You nod and opt to tangle your fingers in his curls. Approval seeps through his smirk as he continues his ministrations for as long as he pleases, feeling accomplished each time your hips chase his.

Joel stands up straight, running his calloused hands over one of your clothed legs, meticulously pulling each shoe and sock off and tossing them to the side to find later.

“Do I need a condom, baby?” He mutters against your knee, toying with the hemline of your pants.

You tell him no and quickly explain you’re clean and protected. Something in him visibly switches, desire becoming carnal. He clings tight to his sense of control, desperately willing himself to give himself to you, not give into himself.

Joel drags both layers of bottoms down your legs, watching you challenge him by keeping them clamped together. He exhales heavily through his nose, your limbs relaxing slightly, but just enough for him to retake control.

“Christ, looks like I was wrong again,” he sighs, smoothing his flattened palms over your open thighs. You can get prettier. “Oh she’s pretty, mamita. All this for me?”

A gasp falls between your lips as you’re tugged closer to the edge of the mattress. Your head spins, the only thought crossing it is Joel. His hands. His words. His filthy mouth and how it’s mere centimeters from where you want him to be. Need him to be.

“Joel,” you whine, feeling the scratch of his blunt facial hair on your inner thighs. His lips tease the sensitive skin around your pussy.

“What?” He coos, fingernails biting your flesh. “Dime, baby. Tell me what you want.”

It feels pathetic, you’re completely at his mercy, stripped down on his bed while he remains fully clothed over you. He has you in the palm of his hand, putty waiting to be molded and shaped however he pleases. Bliss has already warped your features, the anticipation of what’s to come already numbing your brain.

“I want you,” you cry simply.

“You have me, don’t ya? I’m gonna need you to be more specific.”

Frustration bubbles in your belly. You’re truly not annoyed, but the tension might snap you in half before he gets the chance to.

“Want you to touch me,” you plead. “Want you to make me come, please.”

Joel hums with content, thumbs pulling your cunt open from the outer lips. A slick, sticky mess you are, hardly touched and begging to come. Arousal seeps from you, finding its way to your tight hole. You watch Joel wet his lips, the self restraint slowly dwindling from his gaze.

“Show me,” he huffs. “Be good and fuck your hand f’me. Wanna see how you like it.”

The sound of his metal belt buckle clanking against itself is enough for your hand to fly below your hips. Relief floods your nervous system the moment you circle your clit, hips lifting and chasing the friction. Sighs leave your parted lips, eyelids falling shut with pleasure.

“Ah ah,” he corrects. “Eyes on me, beba. Sigue jugando con esa flor bonita. Mírame.” Keep playing with that pretty flower. Look at me.

You comply with his request, half lidded but maintaining eye contact nonetheless. Your fingers toy with your cunt lazily, eyes settling between his burning gaze and his taut boxers. His length strains beneath the thin fabric and his hand twitches at his side.

“I love watching you, mami,” Joel purrs. “Wish y’could see how perfect you look right now…perfectly wrecked just for me.”

His words egg you on, pace quickening on your throbbing clit. Moans spill from you as you watch Joel squeeze at his seemingly uncomfortable erection for his own relief. His other palm keeps your legs spread for him, kneading desperately at your thighs as you work yourself towards the edge.

“¿Quieres que te ayude, mamita?” Do you want me to help you?

Joel settles on his knees, both palms splayed against your skin to keep you pinned down. He licks a broad stripe from your asshole to your clit, sucking harshly on your labia before diving into your weeping cunt, all while audibly sighing with delight at your taste. Your hand instinctively rushes to grip his curls.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” he grumbles while putting your hand back where he says it belongs. “Keep playing with yourself. Make this pretty pussy cry all over my face, cosa dulce.” Sweet thing.

Your digits pulse against the nerve bundle, shocked by the sensation of his tongue swirling inside of you. It’s absolutely obscene. He slurps up everything you have to give, edging you until your legs clamp over his ears. Joel sings into your cunt, a delicious melody that sends you into a frenzy. Your walls flutter around him as he guides you through your orgasm, nose nudging your hand out of the way to make more room for himself.

Your gaze drops from the ceiling to his blissful face, thick eyelashes brushing his flushed cheeks as he savors you. It all begins to feel like too much as you grip onto his shirt. You pull the cloth towards you and he gets the hint, dragging his mouth away from your pussy and removing his top.

“So desperate to come, mamita, already finished with me?” He cants, smoothing a thumb over your kneecap.

“No- just need a breath,” you pant. You take in his features, broad shoulders with a strong chest, thick arms. His hair alone has you running laps, the sparseness of it littered on his torso and below his belly button, his curls tousled already from your hands, and his beard—fuck his beard—is absolutely soaked with your arousal. He makes no attempt to wipe it clean before kissing you. The taste of your cunt dances on your tongue as he licks into your mouth.

“Joel,” you sigh, his lips leaving yours and trailing down your neck. “I wanna suck your cock, please.”

“You wanna suck it?” He smirks, slipping his hand beneath his boxers before shoving them off of his thighs. His fingers slip through your folds briefly before he deposits your cum onto the tip of his dick. Mischief plays on his expression as he opens your legs once more.

Joel slowly stuffs his cock into you, not your mouth but your pussy. A gasp escapes you, morphing itself into a moan. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass to pull him in deeper.

“Thought you wanted to suck it,” he grunts with a devilish grin, grinding his hips down into yours.

“Hmm, I’ll suck it later,” you draw out with a smile.

He leans down to suck your bottom lip into his mouth, gently nibbling on the sensitive skin before pulling off.

“God, mamita,” he exhales. “Love fucking this pussy. Takin’ me so well.”

His hips drive into yours at a devastating pace, only using a portion of his length to massage your pussy. You quickly adjust to him, allowing him to thrust deeper into you. You cry his name while simultaneously having all of the oxygen punched out of your lungs. Joel swallows your wails whole, moaning against your lips in return.

Your legs tense around his body, face twisting up with pleasure under the weight of his. Lips drag against your skin, anywhere he can reach. The room spins around you, eyes rolling back into your head as his hand snakes down to play with your clit. You desperately claw at Joel, gripping his curls in one hand and bruising his back with the other.

“Dámelo. Give it to me like I want, sugar,” Joel coaxes.

The bundles of twine prickling your flesh and holding you together in one piece snap, your body completely shattering into a million fragments underneath him. He stays buried inside you as you pulse around his cock, humming into your neck and soothing his hands over your burning skin.

Joel gently settles onto his side near you, cupping your jaw and kissing you feverishly. You shift your body to face away from him, pushing back against his soaked erection. His eyebrows furrow, grunts of detest coming from him.

“No, mami, I want to look at you while I fuck you. Ven aquí, come here,” he corrects, grasping your arm to guide you to press up chest to chest with him. A brief hiss escapes him as the cool jewelry brushes up against his nipples.

“These’ll be the death of me,” he sighs, latching his mouth to yours once more as he maneuvers you the way he wants.

His cock slips easily back into your wet heat, arms trapping your upper half against his as his legs anchor to the bed to buck into you. He grips onto your ass for leverage and you find yourself holding onto it with your own palm. It’s slower, intimate, reeling you in to take more, to take it all.

He draws another orgasm from you. Your heart thrums against his hardened chest, his pounding against the confines of his ribcage. He collapses on his back with a breathy groan, sweat perspiring on his forehead. You push back his sticky curls as he catches his breath this time.

“You still wanna suck it?” He chuckles cheekily, offering but not forcing.

He’s surprised as you eagerly crawl down his body, curling over his thigh while taking his cock in your fist. Your back is to him once more, but beggars can’t be choosers, especially while he’s stuffed in your mouth so perfectly. His fingers drag along your spine, palm splaying flat to soothe the sensation quickly after. His hand stills and stomach flexes as you take as much of him as you can, pumping your tight fist over the remainder of his length.

“Fuck me,” he shutters mindlessly, “feels so good, amor. Treating me so good.”

The praises fuel you, moaning around his tip as he continues to trace shapeless trails onto your back. Your mind feels cloudy, not thunderstorms and impending doom cloudy, but rather a sunny, breezy, nothing could ever go wrong kind of cloudy. You feel taken care of for once, free to slip into a warm, blissful state with Joel. He feels safe.

“Come back, preciosa,” he grins as you make your way back up his body. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you deeply once more, running his hands gently all over your skin as you settle on top of him.

“Missed ya,” he chuckles, kissing your swollen pout a few more times before wetting his fingertips with his spit. He reaches down, circling your clit as his cock twitches against your seam. Your head falls beside his, feeling too heavy to hold up on your own.

Joel protrudes your cunt once more, nestling into you carefully at first. You writhe over him at the push and pull of his cock inside your fluttering walls, hips snapping down against his with subtle slaps of skin rejoicing. He picks up his pace beneath you, overwhelming your senses a bit too quickly.

You work your core to sit up, fully sheathed with his length as you grind against him. He grips onto your hips, watching you use him for your own pleasure.

“Tan bonita, amor,” he hums smugly, his fingertips dancing along your bare thigh, his other hand tucked behind his head to prop himself up. “So pretty, mami, fuck.”

He tweaks his fingers against your nipples, pinching the pebbled flesh carefully as you ride his lap. Tufts of his neat pubic hair scratch at your clit, the friction of everything causing you to soak his lap further. You’re being pushed to your limits, throat dry and voice hoarse. Joel wishes to have put water on his bedside table, he would’ve had he’d known you’d end up here so quickly.

“Doin’ okay, sweetheart?” He checks in, toying with your fingers that have found a home on his chest. You silently nod, eyelids low and face contoured with bliss.

“Think you can give me one more, bebita? Come on my cock one more time and I’ll give you whatever you need.”

Your voice hardly sounds like your own, but you mean it when you tell him yes, please. He feels it when you clamp down on his length, his thighs tensing so tight they almost cramp. His legs hinge at the knee, body pivoting you forward into his chest. Joel grabs fistfuls of your ass as he fucks up into you, all of the air leaving your lungs.

His grunts and groans become less calculated and intentional, thrusts becoming sloppier and instinctual. You squeeze him tight, toes curling as you already tumble towards your impending high.

“Mierda,” he hisses, strong arms pressing your torso firmly to his. His lips consume your every breath, whine and borderline scream.

“Take it, use me, amor. Dámelo, cariño, and I’ll give you my cum. Take it from me,” he grunts sharply, pressing into you impossibly deeper and faster. Your skin bursts into flames, embers showering your body as he pulls that final high from you. You shutter above him, dead weight against his body as he uses you to finish himself off. He evacuates your warmth and pumps out his load between your sticky, worn out figures with a drawn out groan.

Joel makes the first move to stand up, cock softening and hanging between his legs. He starts to step towards his en suite bathroom to find a towel, but you reach for him.

“I’m just gettin’ somethin’ to clean you up, honey,” he smiles before seeing a sadness in your eyes, longing for him to come back. Tears prickle your eyes and Joel quickly makes his way back to the bed.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay, baby, cálmate,” he hushes carefully, holding you close to him. “We’ll getcha cleaned up in a little bit, I’ll make you whatever you fancy for supper and relax with you, sound good?”

A nod suffices his question, knowing you trust him enough to stay rather than run off eases him as he grounds you back to reality with his warm embrace.

to stay up to date on when I post fics, follow @pascalpvnk-writes and turn on notifications! i hope you enjoyed xx

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #my writing #fic: take it from me

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bedoballoons · 6 months

Note

Fontaine, Sumeru , Inazuma boys + Zhongli and Xiao with a GN! Darling that has Newts Briefcase from fantastic beasts

Your blog looks beautiful btw

Awwe thank you so much!! <3 I hope you enjoy!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃

{༻~Reader with a briefcase like Newts~༺}

CW: Fluffy and magical! (Pet names: Lyney: Mon amour)

(Includes: Lyney, Zhongli, Tighnari, Heizou, and Xiao!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

Lyney obviously didn't know every magic trick in Teyvat, that would be almost impossible, but he did know quite a few of them and he could usually figure out how others were done fairly quickly, but how your suitcase managed to hold a whole boar, crystalflies of every element, and tens more animals, some of which he'd never seen before, was beyond anything even he could imagine.

You'd left him speechless, mouth agape as he stared at you in awe, "Mon amour, how is this possible? How are you doing that?" You blushed slightly, seeing the way his eyes shun like that of child's when they see something magic for the first time, "I can't tell, it's a secret, but you're welcome to use it for one of your shows, just make sure to feed the scorpions, they get angry otherwise and they aren't very nice when they're angry."

𑁍༄Zhongli:

Zhongli stared at your happy face, your arms extended outwards, being used as a perch for at least 10 exotic birds...all of which had appeared from your suitcase. Originally he had assumed this was only possible because the work of an adepti, but upon closer inspection he saw no signs of adeptal power, infact it seemed completely foreign to him...which only made him more curious.

"You say it can hold as many animals as the forests of Liyue? That's certainly a incredible feat...may I asked how you've acquired such a unique and interesting treasure?" He smiled slightly at you, hoping you'd clear up the mysterious nature behind the briefcase, but you simply chuckled, "One day I'll tell you, but for now it would be far more fun to keep it a secret~"

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnari was sitting in front of your suitcase with his eyes glued to it like at any moment it could actually explode, not because it was somehow holding more animals than he even knew of, but from the sheer amount power such a item would have to have. In all of his days of studying at the akademiya and traveling to other lands in search of new plant varieties, he'd never seen anything like it. "Does it contains exotic plants as well? Do each of the animals have their own ecosystems? If you shut the suitcase for to long does the oxygen run out or does the suit case somehow supply oxygen? Have you ever tried to go in the suit case?"

Your eyes widened at his many questions, more and more spilling from his lips before he could stop himself...frazzling you slightly. You hadn't expected him to get so excited about it, but even with his never ending questions, it was absolutely adorable to see him this way. It was like he'd found a miracle and he wanted to learn everything about it with you.

𑁍༄Heizou:

Heizou stuck his head into your suitcase, trying to find clues as to how it worked, but the detective was more than just stumped, he was simply baffled as to how something like it could even exist. "You weren't joking when you said you wanted to show me something beyond my imagination. I've seen Onis with horns fight beetles and gods who can make the air actually buzz with emotion, but I don't think I've ever seen anything that has come close to the mystery behind this. Do you think you could live in it?"

"I suppose you could, but I'm not exactly sure. You could be the test subject if you'd like." You winked at him teasingly and he smiled up at you, almost like he was actually considering it for moment, "I think I prefer the scenery in the outside world, but we could always take a romantic vacation together inside the suitcase~" Your cheeks turned a scarlett red as he giggled at you quietly, if you teased him, it was only fair he teased back.

𑁍༄Xiao:

Xiao kneeled down, softly scratching the underside of a mora weasels chin, unbothered by the fact the animal had just run out of your suitcase along side a fairly massive boar. You actually seemed more surprised by his reaction than he did of your suitcase, "So what do you think hmm?"

"I think,...it reminds of the teapots us adepti sometimes use. They appear normal on the outside, but on the inside it's a island specifically designed with our comfort in mind, I've never seen a suitcase version before though.." His eyes met yours and your heart skipped a beat, you responded without even thinking and it flustered you to no end, "Do you have a teapot? May I see it if you do?"

"...I...don't have one, maybe, one day...we can make one together?"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

◥(•̀￦•́)◤☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 ☾𖤓~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

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kxsalt · 9 days

Text

An evening of laughter over dinner. The young lady sits at the table with a couple, sharing wine and stories. Ever since the pair had moved back into the city, she had quickly grown very close to her friend and her new husband. From the first time she saw them together, the single girl thought they were a perfect couple. She watches them share a kiss with a pang of jealousy and another emotion her inexperienced soul can’t quite describe yet.

A week later the girl rides the train home after a terrible date. The woman had no romantic intentions and was only interested in selling health supplements. Already exhausted, she opens her dating app to see a hundred shirtless men holding fish. She closes it again with a frustrated grunt. The girl arrives at her station and starts to make her way through the crowd.

Up ahead, in the throng of people, she spots her newlywed friend. Her heart jumps, and she pushes through the mob to try and get close to her. I can’t wait to tell her about my horrible date. Maybe she’ll want to hear about it over dinner again. That unfamiliar feeling returns. Getting closer, her friend steps out of the human traffic, standing with a man she doesn’t recognize. The girl is only a few metres away, but invisible among the other passengers.

She watches her friend pull the strange man in for a kiss.

Disbelieving her own eyes, the girl freezes. Even as annoyed people bump into her, she watches, mouth agape as the married woman makes out with the stranger.

What am I seeing. I must be crazy. She wouldn’t cheat on him, they’re both perfect… for each other. I must have this person mistaken for my friend.

The kiss breaks and the woman laughs. A laugh as unique as a fingerprint. The girl sees every detail of her smile.

Oh god, it is her. Why me? What am I going to do?

She returns to her empty apartment, feeling strangely heartbroken. Her husband is an amazing man, doesn’t he deserve to know? Is it none of my business? How could she do this? The next few days are torment. Wracked with guilt from her involuntary secret, she decides to take the unenviable step of telling him about his wife’s infidelity. I have to. It would hurt him more if I didn’t tell him. And it would help her in the end. That unfamiliar feeling cracks through her fear.

Arriving at the couple’s home, the girl feels like she’s going to have a heart attack. Welcoming her in, the married man makes her a cup of tea. The girl is obviously distraught, and he tries his best to calm her down so she can talk. A word salad spills from her mouth, and she starts to cry as she explains what she saw. The man’s face falls as the girl becomes more overwrought. She finishes her story, looking at his soft, compassionate expression.

“I am so sorry that you saw that. I can see how upsetting this is to you. We were always worried that something like this would happen. I’m sorry it was you.”

The girl stops crying, disoriented by his response. She expected him to be angry, or sad, or devastated. But his only concern is for her. He doesn’t seem hurt in the slightest. The man brings her some tissues and encourages her to drink her tea. Sitting down beside her on the couch, he gently starts to explain.

“When we first started dating, we were seeing other people, too. It kind of just… never stopped. We felt comfortable with it, and we knew we wanted to be with each other… It’s changed a lot over the years. When we became official, we would give each other passes, for a date or a night of fun. Always equal. We agree on a pass, we each hook up with someone, and then we come back together. I know it’s unusual, but it works for us.”

The girl is bewildered by his explanation. He continues:

“When we got married, we knew it would change again. We both want to settle down, find a different way for us to do stuff like this without chasing random people. Actually, this pass is supposed to be the last time... Like that at least. I’m so sorry that you got so upset by what we’re doing. You’re a good friend, I know you care about both of us so much. I can see how that would terrify you.”

Her head swims, she stares at the wall. The adrenaline of her mission has worn off, replaced by confusion and embarrassment. He calls his wife and asks her to come home early, so they can explain everything together. A half hour later, she rushes through the door and envelops the young girl in a big hug. The couple holds hands while they answer her questions. The girl relaxes. Her heart warms when she sees them kiss, confirmation of their love.

Feeling as if she has intruded enough, she gets ready to leave. Excusing herself to the bathroom before she goes, the girl sits on the toilet pondering the night’s conversation.

Out of all the possible outcomes, this is the best I could have hoped for. She washes her hands. The best I could realistically hope for. The girl is confused by her own line of thinking. Anything better would be impossible. She dries her hands. What else could I wish for? The girl stares at herself in the mirror, that strange new feeling wells up inside of her, stronger than ever before.

Leaving the bathroom, she finds her friend waiting for her.

“Thank you for being so understanding… I know it’s a lot. I know you came here because you wanted what was best for us, even though it was scary. I admire that. He admires that. You’re a good friend.”

“Thanks, I’m sorry I got so far up in your business… Good luck now that you’re through the ‘giving out passes’ phase. I hope whatever you two do together brings you closer together.”

“Oh, well, we’re not quite done with the pass thing yet.” She subtly points into the living room. “He hasn’t used his pass yet.”

“Ah, well, if I see him with a girl I won’t come crying to you. Haha.”

“Haha, yeah. I mean he could use it with whoever he wanted to. That’s how it works.”

“Right, you explained that earlier.”

An awkward pause drags through the conversation.

“Do you want to stay for dinner tonight?”

“I feel like I already overstayed my welcome.”

“You haven’t. I feel like we should make it up to you.”

“Uh, maybe? I don’t know.”

“I want you to fuck my husband.”

The conversation screeches to a halt. The girl stares at her friend, dumbfounded. They start to talk over one another. You don’t think I’ve been trying to sleep with him, do you? No, I just thought you might like to try it. I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble. It’s no trouble. Wouldn’t it be weird? I don’t think so. Does he even want to? He’s brought it up before. Isn’t that weird? I brought it up first. I’m wearing ugly underwear. I could let you borrow something.

“I’m afraid it would feel like cheating.”

“I could watch, to support you. So you know it’s okay.”

The young lady’s heart almost leaps from her chest. Why did that convince me? At a loss for words, she nods her head.

Standing naked in the couple’s bedroom, she paws through her friend’s clothing. A mixture of fear and excitement whirs though her mind. Taking out a tiny pink thong, she slips it on and steps in front of the mirror. Her familiar emotions mix with the unfamiliar ones. Why does it feel so hot, wearing her lingerie?

A knock at the door, her friend enters. “You look beautiful.” The young girl blushes unexpectedly at the compliment. “My husband will love you. Are you ready?” Another emotion, another nod, more confident this time. She summons her husband.

He gives her a kind smile as he walks into the room. A loving peck on his partner’s cheek, and the man steps towards the new girl. His arms wrap around her waist and their lips touch. They surprise each other with a deep, passionate kiss. Their tongues flirt, their noses rub, their hands roam. His kisses work down her cheek, and into her neck. The girl gasps and looks over to his wife. Relief and joy as she sees her gorgeous smile. His wife’s lips move, whispering. Keep going.

Eager to please them, she reaches down to feel his cock bulge in his pants. The man groans and returns the favour, grasping her wet pussy through the skimpy thong. They touch each other, faster and faster, kissing open and free. She unzips his pants and starts to stroke his cock. He lifts up his shirt so she can see him. His body looks better than I ever imagined.

Dropping to her knees, she takes him in her mouth. The faint taste of his precum overpowers her senses. Fingering herself wildly through her friend’s tiny underwear, the girl does everything she can to make him feel good. Glancing over at his wife, she sees her rubbing her bare pussy. She’s lifted up her dress to touch her breasts, too. Her body looks better than I ever imagined.

The trio are thoroughly excited. Nobody can wait for what comes next. He lifts the girl up and tosses her onto the bed. She spreads her legs and pulls the thong to the side. The husband pushes her legs up against her chest. “Oh god, it looks so good.” The wife chimes from her spot in the corner. He rubs his hard cock against her exposed pussy. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

The tip, the head, half way, all the way. There’s no going back now. The married man’s cock stretches out the single girl’s pussy, and they exhale. Enjoying the warmth of his wife’s friend’s body, he starts to stroke his cock in and out of her. The girl trembles, getting used to his size. The wife gasps, rubbing her clit as fast as she can. They fuck each other, making out while the tension releases. The girl is overwhelmed by pleasure and excitement. She starts to encourage her friend.

“Your husband’s cock is so big! Ah~! It’s so good! Ah~! So big… Ah~! Your husband is fucking me so… Ah~! Good!”

“You like that, you dirty little slut?”

“Yes, I love it.”

The couple on the bed roll over. The girl takes his hands and puts them on her ass. A firm grip, and he pulls on her bumcheeks. So he can get deeper. So she can see every inch enter her. She bounces on his dick, thrilled at the thought of how little her friend’s thong is hiding. She feels her orgasm build inside of her. Quickening her pace, the girl will finish soon.

The sounds of a woman cumming fill the room. The couple look over at the wife, helplessly masturbating as she fingers herself to completion. They look back to each other, grinning. “Now it’s my turn…” The girl giggles, playing with her clit while his strong hands pull her up and down on his cock. They kiss passionately again. The girl cums on his married dick, picking up where his wife left off. Pushed over the edge by their chorus, he fills her sweet pussy.

They lie there for what could be an hour, could be a few minutes. The girl slowly climbs off of him, and walks past his wife, also basking in the glow of her orgasm. She heads down the hall, back to the bathroom, to wash up after their encounter. Looking at herself in the mirror again, her unfamiliar feelings beat in her chest. An epiphany strikes her. Like a ray of light through the clouds, she understands herself.

Stepping back into the hallway, his wife is waiting for her again.

“I really, really, enjoyed that… I hope you did, too.”

“It was almost perfect.”

The girl walks up to her. She wraps her hands around her waist. Their lips meet, they kiss. They push back into each other, letting the taste of their first embrace waft through them.

Their fingers touch. Holding hands, tugging lightly, they walk each other back to the bedroom.

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theonewiththefanfics · 7 months

Text

The Panic of Love (one-shot)

Synopsis: Emotions don't come easy to Carmen. They never have. But when his feelings come to a boiling point, it's not like a pot on a stove you can close. They spill out. And change everything. The question is - is he ready to face that change?

Pairing: Carmen (Carmy) barzatto x fem!roommate!Reader

Genre: fluff, a bit of angst, SMUT (softest smut I've ever written)

Warnings: swearing, Carmy being hard on himself, SMUT

Word count: 7929

The weather channel was a goddamned fucking liar, and the weatherman too.

When Y/N finally entered The Bear, she was soaked to the bone, teeth chattering, and every possible expletive on the tip of her tongue because all the weatherman had said was it’d be cloudy. Not a fucking hurricane in sight. What a load of bullshit that had been.

It was a Saturday, her day off, unlike Carmen’s, the man who’d been her roommate for the past year, and when he’d left early in the morning, the Chicago sky still dark and void of any sun rays, she’d said she’d stop by for some of Marcus’s doughnuts and maybe a sandwich to take back home.

Carmen had raised a brow at her. “You know if you want a sandwich, all you have to do is ask, right?”

Y/N scoffed, rolling over and snuggling into her pillow. “You spend your whole day cooking food. I’m not going to make you work when you’re home.”

“No, really, I don’t mind –,”

“Nope.” She just shook her head. “Home is for relaxing, not working. Besides, kinda wanted to go on a walk today anyway. This will give me a reason to.”

Now though she wanted the weather channel to get struck by lightning. And the weatherman too.

“Well, you look like you just crawled out of a sewer,” Richie, Carmen’s cousin who he run The Bear with, said with a smirk.

The thunder that rumbled outside matched the look on Y/N’s face. “Fuck off, maybe?”

Richie just chuckled. “Coffee?”

“Yes please,” she sighed and eyed the menu above. She’d been to The Bear a few times, even before she’d gotten Carmen as a roommate, but always liked to try something new. Maybe a staple this time. “Carmy said Marcus was working on some doughnuts?”

Richie hummed in confirmation while he poured her a to-go cup of steaming bean juice. “Just in time for the batch to come out, actually.”

And it was like those had been the magic words as she saw Carmen with a big pan enter the front of the house, placing the still-warm circles of heaven behind the glass. He was about to rush back into the kitchen, but he lifted his gaze for just a split second, Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes meeting his striking blue ones, and stopped dead in his tracks.

“The fuck happened to you?” His tone wasn’t harsh, more so concerned as she surveyed her from where she was leaving an unmistakable puddle underneath her.

“Went for a swim?” She shrugged. “There was nothing in the morning news about a bloody tsunami, so I didn’t take an umbrella. It only started raining when I was halfway here. It’s not like I was gonna turn back around.”

Richie put her coffee on the countertop with a smirk, as he eyed Y/N and his cousin. He turned his mischievous eyes towards her. “How many?”

“Four,” she replied, putting her hand in the inside pocket of her jacket where her wallet sat. Even that was soaked through. “And the Italian beef sandwich as well, please.”

Carmen stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, and Y/N couldn’t deny that the way his biceps flexed was anything short of salivating worthy, so much so she had to avert her gaze towards the box Richie was filling.

“You gonna make her the sandwich, cousin?”

“Not if she plans on going home with it.”

“Why not?” Y/N snapped her head towards him, her tone like an offended child’s.

Carmen scoffed. “As if I’d ever let you go out in that torrential rain.” He nudged with his chin to the weather outside. “Give me a plate, she’ll have it in my office.”

“Carmy, I’m not the Wicked Witch of the West. I won’t melt.” Y/N sighed but gave him a soft smile.

His own lips tugged up at the corners, voice much more gentle now. “And I’m not gonna let you get sick. Now come on. You can eat the sandwich in the office and put the clothes on the heaters to dry out. I have some spare ones I can give you.”

“Bear,” she started, but he already had put the made sandwich on the plate and was waiting for her to follow.

With a deep sigh, Y/N hung her head and grabbed the box of doughnuts and her coffee.

“Sorry for the puddle,” she said over her shoulder to Richie.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll just tell everyone you peed yourself.”

All Y/N did was flip him the bird before entering the kitchen.

She’d met the chefs a few times when Carmen had invided her to family, and she truly loved each and every one of them. Sydney, Tina, and Sugar had even added Y/N to their group chat, but their interactions in real life were limited to moments like these or when they came to Carmen’s and her apartment to try out some new recipe on a day off. Carmen usually regretted introducing his roommate to them because absolute chaos reigned then.

“You do know swimming in clothes is dangerous, right?” Marcus called from the back of the kitchen where he was rolling out some dough.

“Ha ha, very funny. Just remember,” she shook the box in her hands in his direction. “The fate of your doughnut recipe is in my hands.”

“Be gentle with me, I’m sensitive,” Marcus said, making Y/N snort, and Sydney rolled her eyes from where she was concentrating on chopping up some vegetables but waving at her in greeting nonetheless.

“Don’t you look like a New York rat,” Sugar chuckled as she appeared from the freezer, Tina on her toes.

“Thanks, it’s my new aesthetic,” Y/N batted her eyelashes, and she would’ve continued to stand there and talk with everyone else had Carmen not nudged her in the side and wrapped an arm around her waist, turning her towards the office.

“You need to get in some dry clothes, and then you can blabber about. Don’t need you to catch death.”

Y/N looked at him, raising a brow. “Yes, because I act as if I’m dying when I get the sniffles. Not you. No, never you.”

“Just get in the office.” But the smile on Carmen’s face was unmistakable.

He placed her sandwich on top of a stack of papers, not really caring about them and went to rummage in his backpack where he’d put a spare pair of sweats and a jumper, he’d worn underneath his jacket that morning. Winter was approaching Chicago, so layering was starting to become a standard.

Carmen sat down on the chair, untying the laces of her boots. “Come on, step out of them. Socks too.”

Y/N did as told and tried to keep her thoughts at a PG-13 kind of a place, but Carmen, almost on his knees before her, did horrible things to her mind. Horrible, terrible, salacious, delicious things.

She put her hands on his shoulders and rested against them, hopping out of the squelching boots and letting him put some warm woollen socks on her feet he’d also placed in the backpack with him.

Once that was done, he went to the heater and put the wet boots and socks below it, giving Y/N the change of clothes and showing where the bathroom was.

When she was back in his office, not without a sly look from Syd, to which she just grumbled, “Don’t you dare start,” he pointed at the chair and made her sit down.

“Now you’ll eat your sandwich and doughnuts, drink your coffee, and I’ll let you leave only when the rain stops,” he instructed her like she was one of his chefs.

“But I feel bad,” Y/N whined. “It’s already shitty enough I’ve intruded on you and taken you away from work, I don’t want to inconvenience you more as is.”

His brow furrowed immediately at her words. “Don’t say that. You’re never an inconvenience, you hear? Never.”

For a moment, it seemed like he was going to say something more, but shook his head no. “Eat your food, drink your coffee and relax, okay?”

“Okay,” Y/N whispered back with a gentle smile, her heart thudding just a bit harder against her ribcage at his words, at his caring. “Thank you, Bear.”

With a small nod and a smile, he left Y/N and ventured back into the chaos of The Bear’s kitchen.

Suddenly, the sandwich tasted a million times better.

***

When he finally got home, Carmen was exhausted. Those couple of hours Y/N had spent at The Bear with him were the most reprieve he’d had from stress in ages. Though he was upset she’d gotten soaked through and not looking forward to the cold she was gonna get after braving that weather, he couldn’t deny the warmth that’d settled in his chest when he’d seen her face at the front of the house. However, all those warm feelings turned into dust when he saw what Y/N had made for herself for dinner.

“What the fuck is that?”

Y/N jumped back from the fridge, a hand against her heart. “Jesus fucking Christ, Carmy! You scared me shitless. When did you come home?”

“I asked, what the fuck is that?” His eyes didn’t waver away from the plate on the counter. Two string cheeses, five pickles, a Reeces Pieces cup, a dollop of Biscoff spread and some breadsticks. It was like the world’s worst charcuterie board to which Y/N was just about to add two slices of pepperoni.

As if in slow motion, Y/N turned her head to look at the plate and then back at him. “Girl dinner?” the statement came out more like a question.

“Girl what?”

“You know, girl dinner.” She shrugged, closing the fridge, and plopping the round pieces of meat onto it.

“No,” he shook his head. “Absolutely not. First, you come to the restaurant soaking wet and probably have pneumonia, and now this sort of bullshit? Not on my watch.”

He tried to reach for the plate, but Y/N was quicker, grabbing it and sprinting underneath Carmy to the sofa.

“Y/N, give it to me, and I’ll make you something of substance.”

“This is substance.” She popped a pickle in her mouth and chewed it.

Carmen huffed, placing his hands on his hips. “Why the hell are you so against me making you some normal food, yet instead you eat… that.”

“What do you mean by that? This is a fully balanced meal – main course,” she pointed at the savory things, “and dessert,” at the sweet things. “Perfectly balanced as all things should be.”

“Don’t quote Thanos at me,” Carmen shook his head. “That’s not doing you any favors right now. Now, give that to me, and I’ll make anything you want.”

Y/N moved the plate behind herself, still standing atop the couch and squinting at him in a challenge. “Make me.”

Something rushed through his body, a flash of heat so intense it almost took his breath away. And call him crazy, but he was almost a hundred per cent sure he saw something glint in her eyes as well, a certain need, but he shook those thoughts away.

Carmen sighed and hung his head. “Please give that plate to me, okay?”

“And what if I want my pickles and cheese?”

“Why do you want to torture me? What did I ever do to you?” but he said that with a chuckle, and his heart skipped a beat as a smile bloomed on Y/N’s face.

“And I told you in the morning,” she hopped off the couch and popped a half a Reece’s in her mouth, “I will not let you cook for me. You’ve done enough of that at work, so sit down and just relax. I won’t perish like some sickly Victorian child if I don’t have proper dinner every now and then.”

He glowered as she passed him and poured herself a cup of water. “And how many times have you exactly had this “girl dinner?””

They continued on like that for close to two weeks – he’d get home, and Y/N would rush to hide what was on her plate before he scolded her. It all came crashing down one evening when he’d walked inside the bathroom, ready to take a shower after a gruelling day at work when he noticed the changes.

“Y/N?” he called out, still holding the shirt and pants he’d taken off in his hands, eyes scanning the little shelf of his stuff. “Can you please come in here?”

He heard the quick pattering of feet before a breathless Y/N appeared around the corner, a strappy sleep top and shorts on with a half-eaten pickle in her hand. Her and her damned pickles. “What? What’s wrong?”

“That.” He nudged his chin towards the shelf. “Where’s all my stuff?”

“That is your stuff.”

“No,” his brow furrowed. “I literally have one shampoo bottle. This is like – twenty different things. Where did they come from?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not twenty, it’s exactly how many one person needs. Besides, you ran out. So, I went to the store and got you some.”

Carmen stammered, still scanning the bottles, but his heart was beating faster in his chest now. She’d gotten them for him without him even asking. She’d thought of him when she’d gone out to the store. He stuttered for a second before looking at the girl leaning against the door frame, chewing on the last bits of the pickle. “At – at least let me pay you back.”

“Absolutely not,” she scoffed, truly offended now. “You don’t let me eat "girl dinner", which, by the way, I enjoy, but I digress. So, don’t think I’m gonna let you use that 10-in-1 abomination." She pointed at two matching bottles. "Shampoo and conditioner, both specifically for curly hair because god knows what you’ve been doing to them is abuse. Body wash and face wash, and no, they cannot be used interchangeably.” She pointed at the other two bottles, explaining what was what and turning around to where on the towel rack three fluffy ones had been placed, all different sizes and colors. “A towel for your body, one for your hair and one for your face.”

“That’s way too many towels.”

“No, that’s precisely the right amount of towels,” she emphasized.

“Y/N…”

“Okay, fine. If you don’t want any of this, no problem.” She shrugged. “Can I go eat my pickles and cheese strings then?”

Immediately, his exasperated look turned into a dark scowl. “Don’t you fucking dare.” He’d already popped a handmade pizza in the oven and had simply allowed Y/N to snack in the meantime. No "girl dinner" on his watch.

All Y/N did was smirk. “Thought so. It’s called a compromise, Carmy,” she squeezed his bicep. “You take care of me, I take care of you, simple as that. Besides, I ran out of my stuff, so it made sense to pick up some stuff for you too.”

And with a peck on his cheek, Y/N left the bathroom, going to rummage in her closet for a blanket for their movie night. But Carmen just stood there, looking at the place where she’d just been.

You take care of me, I take care of you.

Those words echoed in his head like a broken record.

But that’s what they had been doing for one another, wasn’t it? He took care of her, she took care of him.

He made sure she ate proper food and gave her some spare clothes that one morning so she wouldn’t have to brave the rain and get sick. He’d let her stay in the office, clad in his jumper and sweats as she waited for her socks and shoes to dry out. He held her on the nights when the heating turned off in the apartment, and she was shivering in her bed. He helped her through insomnia-filled nights Y/N tended to have when stress from work wound her up to the point she could barely function even though he was dead tired himself.

And Y/N... she always made sure he didn’t bottle up his emotions. She was there for him, listened to his rants, held him when he needed just that, and made sure he always had food in the fridge, not just some pathetic scraps he put together for his own meals. She helped him do the laundry and never complained when instead of their set movie night, he simply came home and collapsed half on top of her on the sofa, dead tired from the shift at The Bear, running her hands over his tired muscles and letting him drift off to sleep in her safe embrace.

They took care of one another.

But not just that.

No.

Not for him.

Because Carmen knew - to him it meant so much more.

He knew he was completely in love with her and would do anything to make sure she was happy.

He peeked out from the bathroom and into the living room, looking at Y/N, how she flitted around the room, leaving chaos behind herself, but god, did he love that chaos. Carmen hadn’t even realized up until that moment, how much he wanted to see her strewn about clothes on the couch, her scattered shoes and used mugs on the countertops. Because it made him feel like he was truly home. Not just in a house he stayed at. Home.

She was his home.

Carmen had entered the living room, standing by the couch and watching how Y/N pulled the pizza out of the oven, dicing up some basil to sprinkle on the still bubbling cheese and tomato sauce while adding some burger sauce on the half she’d claimed as hers, leaving Carmen’s half free for him to add what he wanted.

She turned around in search of the pizza cutter and lifted her eyes, their gazes locking. “You okay, Bear?”

He just stood there, unable to move or speak as his mind ran a mile a minute. And then a string wrapped around his chest and started to tighten. And he couldn’t breathe anymore.

Carmen doesn’t remember when exactly he dropped to his knees, pain shooting up his legs from smashing onto the tiled kitchen floor, but he didn’t drop fully. Y/N’s hands were instantly on his shoulders, palms rushing to cup his face as she tried to figure out what was going on. He didn’t doubt she found pure panic in his eyes. Instantly, she knew what to do.

“Breathe with me, okay?” She took his palm and pressed it to the centre of her chest, his fingers splayed against the skin. “Just breathe.”

And he tried to mimic her, focus on how her chest rose and fell, matching his own breathing to Y/N’s. Feel how her heart beat underneath her skin.

Pathetic, he thought. He can’t even tell the girl he’s in love with his feelings without having a full-blown panic attack.

“Carmy, breathe,” she soothed, pulling his forehead to hers, letting him ground himself in the physical contact Y/N provided. She was solid. Real. There.

Bit by bit, he felt the huge wave of panic recede, but it lingered, like a tsunami waiting to break and rip everything away in its wake.

“What happened?” her voice was low as if she was talking to a wild animal afraid to spook it. “What brought this on?”

“I don’t – I,” he took in greedy gulps of air as Y/N rubbed his back. “I can’t…”

Because he couldn’t. It would ruin everything, wouldn’t it? They had such a good thing going not only as roommates, but as friends, and him confessing he was in love would just shatter that bit of normalcy, and stability he’d managed to create.

Besides, Y/N would never feel the same way about him. Yes, she was kind and sweet and always made sure Carmen took care of himself, but that’s just who she was as a person.

Her grip on the back of his neck tightened, stopping the spiral his mind was falling into.

“Talk to me.” She whispered. “Please, Carmy, talk to me. I need to know what happened so I can help you.”

“I can’t tell you,” he finally got out in between gasps of air. “I can’t. Please don’t make me say it.”

He was shaking his head, but not pulling away. Not that she’d let him, as her nails slowly and gently scraped along the nape of his neck.

“What’s so bad that you can’t tell me?” Y/N murmured.

“It’s not,” he huffed, trying to get a grip on his words. “It’s not bad… I – I don’t think it’s bad…”

“Then why can’t you tell me?”

He bit down hard on his lip, taking a moment to collect himself. “Because it will change things. And I’m scared of how it could change.”

“But change isn’t always so bad. Just look at The Bear, look at how good the restaurant is doing.”

“This is nothing like the restaurant.”

“Then how is it?”

He thought for a moment, eyes closed, focusing on Y/N and her presence.

“Bear, please talk to me. You just had a fucking panic attack seemingly from nowhere, and I’m – I’m scared,” she pleaded.

His eyes snapped up to meet her incredibly worried ones, and yes, scared. She tried to read whatever was on his face, to find an explanation as to what had set it off.

“I – I’m terrified. I’m so fucking terrified,” he whispered.

“It’s okay to feel that way. But I’m here, okay? I won’t let you go through this alone.”

He took in a shuddering breath, breaking their eye contact because he couldn’t do it, not if she was looking at him so intensely. The words were barely audible, but she most definitely heard them. “I’m in love with you.”

There. He’d said it, and he couldn’t take those words back. They were out in the open, and the ball was in Y/N’s court. But to his surprise, her forehead didn't move from his. He could feel the light puffs of air as she breathed out, a slight stutter in the pattern. “And why were you so scared to tell me that?”

“I – I don’t,” and his brain started to swirl again, but Y/N was there, her gentle fingers playing with the small hairs at the nape of his neck, grounding him back in reality. Carmen took a deep breath. “I’m so scared. Of what you’ll say. I can’t lose you, I can’t lose one more person I love. But I also know you deserve so much better than what I can offer. I’m a mess. I can’t afford much. I can’t give you what you deserve. I can barely deal with my emotions, and I have so many issues I sometimes wonder how I’m not completely on my own… But… and I know how selfish this sounds, but I don’t want you to want better… I want you to want me the same way I want you… how need you.”

“Carmy,” Y/N sighed brushing her hand against his cheek. “You will never lose me, alright? Never. As long as you want me around you, I’ll be here. I think you could kill someone, and I’d be there for you to help and get rid of the body. As for that other thing…” she bit her lip. “I don’t think I could ever find anything better than you. Nor do I want to. Not when I already have found you.”

That’s when his eyes finally opened, her Y/E/C ones gazing at him. She gave him a shy smile. “Call us two pathetic clichés for falling for the roommate, but the thought of you going on a date with someone else would probably send me into a complete spiral. Because I do want you the same way you want me. If you’ll have me.”

And that horrible, suffocating tightness in Carmen’s chest released. It was like after years of barely breathing, he could finally get a breath in, and the air tasted so fresh, so filling, it was intoxicating. A drowning man finally coming up for air.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N chuckled, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “I don’t buy shampoos and body washes and all that shit just for anyone. They were fucking expensive.”

His responding laughter was light. He felt so fucking light, it was amazing.

“I really want to kiss you,” Carmen’s voice was more confident, though still tentative as if he was afraid to push further and cross some boundary, eyes flitting to the ground.

He could hear her small intake of breath before Y/N said, “Well, I’m definitely not ever going to be opposed to that.”

Gradually, his palms roved over her waist and settled against her cheeks, their eyes not breaking away from one another.

Another wave of fear rushed through him, but when Y/N’s fingers splayed themselves against the small of his back, trying to push him closer to her, those fears were diminished. For a minute, he just breathed her in, drank in the feeling of having her so close to him, but when he finally kissed her, when he finally had her lips against his, he pretty much melted. The way her hands wove around his neck and into his hair, as if Y/N couldn’t get closer to him if she tried, was as close to heaven as he’d ever get in this life.

“Can I take you to bed?” His head was spinning as he pulled back for a breath, lips craving to be put back on Y/N’s, but he’d die if he at least didn’t ask. Carmen was trembling so bad he had to bury his face in her neck for a moment to steel himself.

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked, breathless, chest heaving, fingers digging into the bare muscles of his back.

She knew he’d never had a relationship, and what he’d just done – the confession, the kiss - had been a huge step on its own. But when he finally pulled back, and she scanned his eyes, looked deep into them, Carmen knew all she saw was one hundred per cent conviction. He couldn’t deny the pleasure it elicited in him as he felt a shiver run through Y/N’s body at that, her pupils blowing so wide it almost swallowed the Y/E/C color, two black desire-filled pools devouring him.

“Never been more sure of anything.” His voice was low, and soft, but steady, unlike his heart.

Her responding kiss was more than enough of an answer.

Carmen was shirtless, so he thought it to be only fair if he rid Y/N of her shirt, but she was a lot quicker and had it yanked over her head in a split second, so much so he barely noticed the disconnect between their lips, and then she was back on him again. They kissed for a little bit more before he practically itched to take it to the bed.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and helped her stand, and Y/N hissed.

Worry instantly ate at him, making him pull back and scan her from head to toe. “What’s wrong?”

She straightened out, rubbing at her knees. “Making out on the kitchen tiles does nothing for your knees.”

Once again, that tightness starting to coil around his heart, released as he intertwined their fingers and led her to his room. It was simply closer. Carmen could have done with the couch, but he thought she deserved their first time to be on an actual bed where he could properly show just how deep his feelings ran. If saying what he felt was so difficult, maybe showing would be easier for him.

Along the way, he’d rid her of her bra, letting his hands explore Y/N’s body and figuring out what made her sigh and moan and what she didn’t like, so he could focus on doing exactly what made her lose her mind.

He helped her shimmy out of her shorts and threw them somewhere over his shoulder as they stumbled into the room, and she plopped backwards onto the bed.

Carmen leaned over her, hands resting by her head while Y/N pulled him back down to kiss him again. He knew his vices, like cigarettes, but this had to be the newest one, the strongest one he knew he’d never be able to quit now that he’d gotten a taste. Never wanted to quit.

A shrill ring stopped them dead in their tracks. It took him a moment to understand it was his phone ringing.

“Stupid fucking piece of shit,” he grumbled as he peeled himself off Y/N and rummaged through his jacket pockets to find the offending piece of technology. Not even looking at who was calling, he turned the phone completely off so there were no more disturbances.

When he turned back around, he found Y/N kicking her underwear to the ground and crawling onto the duvet.

“I wanted to do that,” he murmured, seeing her naked on his bed.

Y/N raised a brow. “Would you like me to put them back on?”

“Absolutely fucking not, I’m not an idiot.”

Her responding smile made his heart soar.

In an instant, he was back atop her, kissing and grabbing at whatever he could before he slowly traveled down. Carmen relished in the hitch in her breath and the soft way she pleaded his name.

He could spend forever like that – worshipping against her skin. He didn’t need water, didn’t need food or anything else as long as Y/N allowed him to do stay by her side.

Digging his fingers into her thighs, Carmen spread them wide as he made his way down her body before he found himself right where he’d wanted to be for ages now.

“Carmy, wait,” she breathed out, and he instantly stopped, worry blooming in his chest.

“I -,” she huffed. “I want tonight to be about you. It should be about you, not me.”

“Oh, believe me,” he smiled, kissing and biting down on the inside of her thigh before soothing the bite with a kiss, and Y/N’s hips were already rolling up to meet his mouth. “All of this is for me.”

She could do nothing but whimper out, “All for you, only you, Bear,” and let her eyes roll to the back of her head as he finally put his mouth on her.

Maybe later on, he’d confess how many times he’d actually thought about that moment, of having Y/N’s legs over his shoulders with her hands brushing his hair out of his face and tugging at the strands. How he’d dreamt of letting his tongue lick into her and finally taste the best dessert on the planet. Or how he’d once seen her early in the morning with nothing but one of his shirts, that’d gotten mixed up in the wash, a simple pair of cotton panties on and nothing else. He’d had to go back inside the shower and jerk himself off, otherwise, he’d be sporting a raging hard-on for the rest of the day.

But now – now he’d just be enjoying the moment. Revelling in how Y/N’s heels dug into his back, how she tried to pull him closer to herself as if she wanted them to mould together. Relishing in how her nails scraped against his scalp, his tongue circling around her clit while her hips gently rolled against him in a slow rhythm. But most importantly – how she sang his name like a prayer, how she sighed and moaned it into the night air, a symphony only for him to hear.

“Carmy, shit!” Y/N gasped when two thick digits joined and slowly slid inside her.

He lifted two lustful eyes to watch how her mouth dropped open, breasts heaving, and nipples hardened to points, but the most divine moment was when she opened her eyes and looked down at him.

Their gazes met, and it took just a couple of thrusts of his fingers for the Y/E/C eyes to roll to the back of her head, and she was squeezing tight around him, cumming with a moan of his name.

Carmen didn’t let go. He helped her ride out the high, tongue licking and sucking everything Y/N offered like he’d been a man in a drought. Only when she gently tugged his head away, did he let go of her swollen clit.

“Too much,” she whispered out, trying to regain some sense of bearing while he kissed the inside of her thighs. He rested a cheek against one while she carded her fingers through his hair, strands stuck to his sweaty skin.

Finally, Y/N glanced down at him. She extended an awaiting hand. “C’mere please.”

Carmen couldn’t say no. He’d never be able to say no to her. He didn’t want to. If she asked him to kiss her, he’d kiss her breathless. If she asked him to drop to his knees, he’d worship the ground she walked on. If she asked him to say he loved her, he’d give his heart to her on a silver platter. Or maybe not. It was already in her hands, and for the first time in his life, he knew someone would carry it on velvet hands, take care of it, and love it like he’d so desperately hoped.

Y/N moaned when his tongue invaded her mouth, hands cradling his face, the remnants of her orgasm still on his tongue. Her hands grabbed at his ass as if offended he was still in his boxers as she pushed her fingers behind the band and tried to shimmy them off him.

A light chuckle escaped him at her frustration, so to stop her torture, he helped her out by removing the last bit of clothing left between them. Now they were skin to skin with nothing else separating the two.

“Condom?” she asked.

“Shit, I don’t have any,” he muttered, pulling back from the kiss.

“Neither do I.”

For a moment, everything stood still. “Listen, we don’t have to do this,” he said, nervousness overtaking his body. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to just because of what happened right now.”

“I mean,” she huffed, playing with the hair on the back of his neck. “I’m clean. Are – are you?”

Carmen snorted. “I think it’s fair to say, I am clean since I haven’t been with anyone in forever… not like this.” Another wave of anxiety rolled over him, but Y/N instantly quenched his fears of inadequacy that threatened to overtake him.

“I mean, maybe you’re some midnight Casanova I just don’t know about it.”

That made him smile, and a little bit of anxiety left him.

“We don’t have to go any further than this if you don’t want to, but I’m on the pill, and I don’t mind.” She pecked his lips. “We go at your pace.”

“And what if – what if I want to go further? What if I want it to be with you? All of it with you?”

He saw Y/N swallow and nod. “Then we go however far you want. Just as long as you’re sure about it.”

“I just…” He struggled to find the words before settling on a thought. “Can you just… guide me?” he asked, brushing a finger against her collarbone. “Help me make you feel good?”

“It should be good for you too. So…” She pulled him down for a kiss, biting on his lower lip and making him groan. “Don’t worry too much about me. You just gave me the best head I’ve ever had. Now I want you to feel good too.”

Carmen just nodded before he leaned down and placed soft kisses against her neck. He was so overwhelmed by love, by the care Y/N showed him, that he thought he might cry, but she didn’t let him get to it.

When soft hands wrapped around his length, he automatically thrust into the palm, pleasure running through his blood.

She guided him closer, and he took it as a sign to slowly run his cock through her folds. Y/N was already wet from her first orgasm, but as he nudged himself inside, he saw her wince.

“I’m sorry,” he immediately apologized, but she shushed him.

“Just take it slow.” She gave him a small smile. “It’s okay.”

He swallowed. “Are you sure?”

Y/N nodded, giving him a kiss. “It’s just been a while.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me.” Y/N placed her palm against his cheek. “You could never hurt me.”

After a moment of reassurance, he locked his eyes on her face once more and slowly started to push in again. She helped along, angling her hips a bit more up as he slowly, taking his time, let himself slide into her, Y/N’s walls stretching and adjusting to his girth and length. Carmen felt every ripple, every squeeze and flutter and had she not been begging for him to go all the way in, he probably would’ve just cum then and there.

Finally, their hips rested flush against one another as he slid all the way in. More sweat sprung along his skin, as Carmen tried to hold himself at bay, letting Y/N adjust. The last thing he’d ever want to do is cause her any type of pain. Even make her a tiny bit uncomfortable, so he’d wait until she said she was ready.

She lifted his head from where he rested it against her shoulder, giving him a long kiss. “You can move,” she whispered, gliding her legs up his and letting them cross against his lower back. “Please move.”

And although Y/N'd said to not worry too much about whether she was enjoying herself, Carmen couldn’t do that. Every spare second was spent looking at her face, watching how her eyebrows scrunched in pleasure or how her mouth opened in a moan of his name, because her being in pleasure gave him pleasure.

More sweat sprung along their skins, covering them in a small layer of perspiration, and Carmen kissed Y/N’s chest taking in the salty taste, biting at her neck, her lips and arms, while drowning in the feeling of how her nails dug into his back, and her teeth bit against his shoulder as if she needed to muffle screams of pleasure, marking him as hers.

Every flutter and squeeze against his cock sent more and more ripples of bliss through him, but it was the way she sighed his name, so full of adoration and pleasure and love, that did it for him.

White exploded across his vision as the tight coil that’d been rolling together in his abdomen finally released. His fingers dug into Y/N’s skin harder, anchoring him to the moment and not letting him slip away, making him tether himself to her and what had just transpired, while she tumbled along, a high-pitched whine ringing through the night, her hips locking his in place as she rode out her own orgasm.

It felt like it took ages for him to come back down to reality, chest heaving, tightly pressed to the woman’s underneath him, his hands digging into the soft flesh of her hips with his mouth open in a faltered breath.

His whole body felt like it was made of jelly, his bones turned liquid, and the only thing keeping him from melting fully was Y/N’s soft motions as she dragged her fingers across his back, soothing where her nails had dug into his back so deliciously.

“Was that – was that good… for you?” the words were timid, his eyes unsure as he searched Y/N’s face for any signs she hadn’t enjoyed it.

Her hand lightly rested against his cheek, eyes still closed, a blissful smile on her face. “Ask me that again when I remember how to speak English.”

Carmen’s heart fluttered, and a bashful smile bloomed on his kiss-swollen lips. “You are speaking English.”

Finally, Y/N’s eyes opened, a glazed, almost drunk look to them. “Really? Because you’ve definitely scrambled my brain. Holy shit, Bear.”

He chuckled and leaned in to press a kiss against her lips, a satisfied hum escaping her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and using his body as a blanket.

After a bit of coaxing from him, Y/N relented and let him go, so he could make sure she went into the bathroom and peed. He might not have much experience sexually or relationshipwise, but he knew the basics and didn’t want her to get a UTI.

He waited for her by the door, and when she exited, probably having expected him to be in bed, the soft smile on her lips made the butterflies in his stomach roil.

“Hungry?” Carmen allowed himself to touch her, a gentle finger running along her collarbone. “We still have that pizza. It’s probably cold by now though.”

She shrugged. “I’ll never say no to pizza.”

“You did yesterday.”

“Because I’d already eaten!”

Carmen scoffed. “A jar of olives is not a meal!”

***

The next day was Sunday which meant Y/N still had a day off, and Carmen had promised he’d sleep in with her even though he needed to open The Bear. They’d spent the rest of the night talking and kissing and having more mind-blowing sex, only drifting off when the sun began to rise. But their rest didn’t last long.

She woke with a start, ripping herself away from Carmen’s warm hold, the cold air instantly making goosebumps appear on her skin. He was up in an instant as well, a warm palm settling on her back as Y/N glared through the wall to the front door.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she grumbled rubbing at her eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with people.”

“I’ll get it,” Carmen mumbled, a bit more awake as his natural body clock had already brought him out from the deep slumber. Pressing a kiss against her shoulder, a pleasant shiver ran through her body, as he helped her lay back down beneath the duvet. “Be back in a second.”

Y/N could hear his feet patter against the floor as he went to the small cupboard and fished out some clean underwear. Call her a perv, but she couldn’t not take a peek and admire Carmen’s ass. A smirk came on her face when she realized she’d left some marks there as well, reddish half-moon imprints of her nails settled deep into the skin. Though it didn’t seem he minded it one bit.

Snuggling deeper into the bed, she closed her eyes and waited for Carmen to come back and join her, though once she heard who was at the door, Y/N knew that wouldn’t happen.

There was slight murmuring for a couple of moments when a loud cackle interrupted the Sunday morning peace.

“Fucking finally, cousin!” Richie’s voice boomed across the apartment and into the bedroom. “Y/N, I hope he treated you right!”

“He treated me perfectly,” she hollered back, understanding there would be no sleeping in anymore. She grabbed one of Carmen’s shirts, fished out a spare pair of his boxers and entered the living room where she found the two – Richie outside in the hallway with the smuggest grin on his face, Carmen with an adorable flush to his cheeks, as he crossed his arms and looked down at the ground, slightly shuffling.

“And I would like a repeat of it,” Y/N grumbled, “but that won’t happen because if you don’t leave right now, I will spend the rest of my life in prison for murder, and I highly doubt they’d let Carmy come on such visits.”

Richie lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I just came to check on dear cousin here. He's never missed his opening shifts, and his phone was completely off. But now I see he was… preoccupied.”

Y/N groaned looking at the clock. She knew it was early, but not six a.m. early. “Murder is illegal, murder is illegal, murder is illegal,” she chanted under her breath as she put on a coffee pot to brew. “Why the fuck is murder illegal?”

“Relax,” Richie chuckled. “No need to resort to violence, I’m already leaving. See you at the kitchen? Actually,” he snapped his fingers and pointed at Carmen. “I’d rather not. We’ll take care of it. You two crazy kids enjoy yourselves.”

“Richie, no I’ll be, there in a couple of hours, just let me -,”

“Nope,” he interrupted his cousin. “Syd will be more than happy to take the lead. Especially, after I tell her why our Carmy was late.”

The aforementioned man dragged a hand down his now scarlet face. “Can you just fucking leave then?”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Richie retreated, and Carmen had almost closed the door when he called out, “Use protection!” and chucked a handful of condoms through the slit.

A louf “fuck you!” was the response he got, and the door finally closed, though they did hear a muffled “I’d rather you fuck each other!” before footsteps retreated down the staircase.

Y/N huffed, taking two cups and filling them with the now-ready coffee, adding two sugars, milk and a dash of brownie syrup to hers. “How upset would you be exactly if I decided to just lightly maim your cousin?”

“Can I help?” Carmen asked with a raised brow, and that elicited a snort from her as she leaned to rest her back against his chest, while two large arms snaked around her waist, and Carmen placed his chin on her shoulder.

“I like my clothes on you, but I gotta admit,” he shyly murmured. “Kinda liked it when you were without any better.”

Y/N’s eyes glimmered as she looked at him through her lashes over her shoulder. “You have every chance to remedy that. I mean, you do have the day off.”

Carmen leaned in and pressed a hot kiss to the side of her neck, the feeling of his lips against her skin making her sigh in pleasure. “I guess I do, huh?”

She felt his body relax against hers, rough fingers skimming her stomach as he swayed them to a song only he heard.

“Come on,” Carmen murmured, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips, his own tasting of the coffee he’d drunk. “Let’s get back into bed.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

They spent hours cuddled up, soft voices interrupting the quiet air of the Chicago morning. Soft words turned into soft moans into soft gasps and pleas and, before long, they were naked again, bodies moving in sync as they reached their peaks together.

And again in the shower, where he slipped into her from behind, after Y/N had washed Carmen’s hair with the new shampoo and conditioner she’d gotten him.

And then on the kitchen counter where he let his tongue explore between her thighs once again, as he made them breakfast despite all her protests of it being his day off and how he shouldn’t be anywhere near a stove.

And then on the sofa where she rode him until she couldn't scream and didn't have a voice anymore as some mindless show played on in the background.

By the time evening came around and they plopped hot and sweaty onto Y/N’s bed because Carmen’s sheets still needed to be changed after the previous night’s escapades, they were satiated and happy.

And undoubtedly very much so in love.

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take):

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: I am back on my bullshit and I am obsessed with this man!!! Why did I wait so long to watch The Bear!!! UGGGGHHHH!!! He makes me go feral!!!!

P.S. what did you think? I might make more parts with these two :)

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luc1fersducky · 2 months

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Luci x Fem!Reader (smut)

WARNINGS FOR BELOW CUT !!! : praise kink, cunnilingus (oral f recieving basically), daddy kink, DIRTY TALK OH ABSOLUTELY, some downright filthy smitty smut, luci being gentle but getting a bit pussydrunk, overstim!!!!, whiny luci if u squint im a sucker for a whiny man

A/N : this is my first attempt at writing smut so pls be gentle about it :,) im just writing out my thoughts in a little oneshot cos duh

he is so 🥹🥹🥹 oh to have him look at me that way 🫶

for my amazing mootie @heart-of-the-morningstar <3

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI!!!

Lucifer Morningstar who has a literal oral fixation on you, walking in after helping Charlie at the hotel to you in your cute little nightgown, leaving so little to the imagination; how the black silk hugs each and every little curve of your body, cupping and defining each detail of your upper half, but most importantly:

your hips. or most specifially, the way the fabric fell in between your plump thighs, to where Lucifer had all but dreamed to have such a delectable dessert. What really had to tie in the deal was the way that your usually innocent smile was replaced with that of lustful intentions, a treat for him to devour and deduce to a babbling mess that he could have all to himself :<

Lucifer Morningstar who's prideful ego soaked in your helpless, high-pitched whines as he had coerced you onto the bed, whispering all of his thoughts into your ear as he took off the nightgown, "what I'd give to bury my face in between your legs for hours, feel them shake around my head," letting out an almost silent whine himself at the sheer thought of it, "I'd take such good care, so gentle with such a delicate little angel...."

He'd carry on describing each and every detail, confidently as he fondled wirh each body part until he paused at the area you'd been whimpering for him to touch, to eat as if it was his last meal on death row. He'd lay you down ever so gently, slowly moving down to admire the way your slick shimmered in the dim moonlight, before sliding a finger down your slit. The moan you let out was downright sinful as he made eye contact with you, licking his finger dry,

"Delicious, as always, pretty little angel. I want you tocome undone beneath me, what'd ya say? gonna let daddy take care of you?"

Lucifer Morningstar who had became addicted to the taste of your juices, lapping away with skill as his forked tongue darted inside you again. After so many releases, Lucifer just couldn't get enough of your heavenly songs of pleasure, and you couldn't get enough of how emotionally bound you felt as he did such filthy acts. His finger toyed with your clit, laughing slightly as your legs shook and walls clenched,

"Oh sweet girl, that feels good don't it? That's it.. felt that reaction there!! Pretty baby's come all undone on daddy's tongue, hasn't she? I've got ya, almost there angel, that's my good girl.." As you let out a helpless babble, followed by a vocal moan as your legs spasmed and wrapped around his head. When your legs relaxed snd gave way, you weren't given enough time to relish in the feeling of fluffy, airy pleasure when his fingers took the place of his tongue, pressing against that spot that made you see stars.

Lucifer Morningstar who ignored your pleas as his fingers continued to pull out sinful songs form your lungs, kissing lovebites onto your inner thigh "Luci.. 'ts- 'ts too much.. please.." You whimpered shakily, tears spilling as he looks up.

When your blurred eyes meet his, there's a glimmer visible; a caring and meek glimmer, but also a lustful one. One that you just had to make a mental note of. How could he look so gorgeous when bringing you to these lengths of emotions?

After a meer 15 seconds of eye contact, he firmly hit that sensitive spot, eyes squeezing shut. He slowly whines, voice coated in arousal as he admires his work,

"One more baby.. please, make Daddy proud, show me I've done a good job."

#lucifer morningstar smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifersducky #lucifer smut #hazbin hotel

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leclerc-hs · 23 days

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tachycardia! pt. 1 - cl16

pairing: doctor!charles leclerc x nurse!reader (alpha/omega au) summary: in which you don't always get along with the arrogant alpha doctor warnings: LIGHT a/b/o dynamics, angst??, none really (yet!), badly translated french, NOT PROOFREAD word count: 1.7k author's note: hi so this is the first part!! I'm thinking about turning this into like a "blurb" series, like i'll do a bunch of parts with them but they won't be toooooo long. emphasis on the LIGHT a/b/o dynamics because i am STILL leaning all about it but I'm sure the more I write the better with it I will get. I def will discuss more about it during smut scenes. let me know what you guys think and what else you would like to see happen between them!! don't be shy!!! xoxo

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

IT WASN’T HATRED, per se, but more so the fact that you both knew how to get under each other’s skin so easily.

The amount of time it took for Doctor Leclerc to make some sort of asshole comment as you entered the doors of the hospital was little to none. It was almost a predetermined ritual at this point. So common that you should’ve been more concerned with the premise that he might’ve memorized your schedule just so it’s his face you see first thing every time you arrive to work.

You had made a solemn vow to yourself long ago never to become romantically involved with a doctor. Any doctor for that matter. The allure of dating a doctor might have seemed appealing in theory, but they tended to exude an air of pretentiousness, rudeness, and arrogance that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Doctor Leclerc was what you would consider the living embodiment of this, a constant reminder of the vows you made in the first place. Yet, the fact that he was probably the hottest fucking man you have ever seen, made it hard to not want to blur the lines sometimes. His chiseled features and commanding presence were sometimes a magnetic force, no matter how much he annoyed you.

So, you wonder why, even as you’re leaned against the nurse’s station with an elbow propped on it, you can’t help but stare at the muscles of his back poking through his scrubs and white coat, as he pours a cup of coffee into his mug. His massive shoulders rising and falling as he picks the coffee pot up and places it back down.

“Did he say something to you?” You ask as you press a tissue into the hands of one of your co-workers, April. You didn’t know that well, but nurses stuck together regardless.

“I’m fine,” she says, but the tears welling up in her eyes, made you know better. “I just need to stop being so sensitive.” The words hang in the air, a fragile façade masking the turmoil within, and you recognize the weight of her emotions despite her attempt to downplay them.

“He must have been a proper douche,” you remark, the water from the bathroom sink running over your hands as you meet April’s gaze through the mirror. “What did he do?” Your tone carries a mix of concern and frustration.

Her hesitance to disclose wasn’t rooted in desire to withhold information, but rather in a reluctance to escalate the situation unnecessarily. Aware of your tendency to stand up to Doctor Leclerc, she treaded cautiously. You turned back around to face her, an eyebrow raised as if you’re saying spill the beans already.

“Well,” she begins, her grip tightening on the crumpled tissue in her fist, “all I did was ask if the symptom the patient was experiencing was a common side effect of the medication we prescribed her, just to be sure.” You cross your arms over your chest, you can feel the agitation growing in your chest. “He wasn’t mean in front of the patient, but he pulled me aside after and told me how unprofessional it is to be questioning in front of a patient.” Her voice wavers with a mix of frustration and hurt.

Your lips press into a thin line as she recounts the encounter. “He then told me that I should’ve paid better attention in school and then maybe I would know the answer,” she emphasizes, tinged with a hint of bitterness. The word “maybe” lingers in the air, weighted with insinuation, as if Doctor Leclerc’s implication stung deeper than mere criticism.

“What an alpha asshole!” you exclaim, your frustration evident in the forceful wave of your hands. “Don’t listen to him.” You offer her comfort, a smile of reassurance accompanying your words, a silent vow to stand by her side.

April’s lips curl upward into a small, grateful smile, her eyes softening as she murmurs a heartfelt “thanks”. In that moment, her expression speaks volumes, conveying both appreciation for your support and glimmer of relief.

You saw him before he saw you.

As you step through the doorway into one of your patient’s rooms, a pang of exasperation washes over you, accompanied by the silent question of what you did to deserve this particular form of punishment. It feels like a cruel twist of fate to find Doctor Leclerc attending to one of your patients, whom had just recently had a coronary angioplasty and a stent placement. Despite the urge to roll your eyes, you summon all your professionalism and force one of the biggest smiles onto your face. It’s a façade of warmth and cooperation, masking the internal tension brewing beneath the surface.

There he stood, a figure of authority on the opposite end of the bed, his arms folded across his chest as he chuckled at whatever anecdote your patient shared with him. His laughter, though genuine, seemed to echo with a hint of superiority. You can’t help but notice the subtle flex of his jaw muscles as his head tilts back briefly. The sight of his scruff and the contours of his muscular neck send a tingling sensation coursing through you.

You need to snap out of it! You repeat to yourself, a silent mantra echoing in your mind. You were so preoccupied with convincing yourself that Doctor Leclerc wasn’t unbelievably attractive that you failed to notice the scrutiny of two pairs of eyes now fixed upon you. The sudden realization jolts you back to the present, and you redirect your focus to the patient.

You didn’t need to glance at Doctor Leclerc to sense the presence of a smirk tugging at his lips; it was almost palpable, a silent acknowledgement that he had caught you staring at him. Distracted by him.

“Glad you can join us, mon lapin.” My bunny.

You narrowed your eyes at him, a flicker of irritation igniting within you. That forsaken nickname—he just couldn’t resist. Ever since your first day, when you innocently showed up with a tote bag adorned with colorful bunnies, he had taken great delight in teasing you with it.

“Ne m’appele pas comme ça.” Don’t call me that.

The patient looked up at both of you, eyes full of delight in entertainment.

His verdant eyes look at you for a few seconds, contemplating something, before looking back at the patient. “I’ll make sure you’re out of here in no time,” he assures the patient, his voice full of warmth. “I just need to check your vitals, and hopefully we can have you out here in a few days.” His words are reassuring, delivered with a blend of confidence and empathy that contrasts with the earlier tension in the room. Despite your reservations, you can’t deny that he provides great care for his patients.

“How has your medication been? Still uncomfortable?” You inquire, while Doctor Leclerc listens intently to your patient’s chest with his stethoscope.

“A little bit,” your patient murmurs in response, pausing between deep breaths as instructed by Doctor Leclerc.

“I’ll make sure you get another dose of aspirin to help ease the pain.” You promise with a tight-lipped smile as Doctor Leclerc removes the stethoscope from his ears.

“I think we need to reconsider the dosage,” you assert, meeting Doctor Leclerc’s gaze.

“We don’t want to risk any adverse effects.” His eyes, a much darker hue of green now, narrow at you, like he can’t believe you’re telling him what to do. “I’ve already adjusted his medication. It’s within the recommended for his condition.”

He shifts his focus back to the patient, the darkness and annoyance that once clouded his eyes now dissipating. “Everything is looking great! I’ll check on you tomorrow morning,” he reassures the patient with a warm smile before bidding his farewells. As he turns to you, nodding toward the doorway, his demeanor shifts, and a lethal glare meets your gaze. Without a word, you follow him out the room, bracing yourself. You refuse to cower, meeting his glare with a steely resolve of your own. Each step you take alongside him is a silent assertion.

His touch on your elbow sends a jolt of tingles to your stomach as he swiftly turns you around, your back now pressed firmly against the wall. His gaze pierces through you with a lethal intensity.

“Que pensez-vous faire?” What do you think you’re doing? He pinched the bridge of his nose in between his pointer finger and thumb, with his eyes scrunched as if he got a splitting headache in the span of one second. Like he was in pain. Did you know how strong you scent was? He wondered mindlessly, almost forgetting why he was so mad at you in the first place.

You thought nothing of his actions, too busy feeling the anger swell in the pit of your stomach.

Your eyes roll in exasperation, and your eyebrows knit together in annoyance at the audacity of this man.

His eyes meet your again and can’t help but think how beautiful you look, even when angry. How he would just love to bend you over his knee and remind you who is in charge.

“Je veille sur mon patient.” I’m looking out for my patient.

He rests his hands on his hips, stealing a glance at his beeping pager before fixing his gaze back on you. His eyes, nearly black, pierce through you. “Non, tu essaies juste de provoquer une dispute comme d’habitude,” You’re just trying to start an argument as usual. He grits through clenched teeth. “His medication is completely fine, et tu le sais!” And you know it!

So, maybe you were trying to start an argument with him. Especially after April’s crying face came to your mind.

He’s so close that you can hardly think around his scent. It’s almost intoxicating.

“Don’t ever make April cry again.” You jab your finger into his shoulder, reminding yourself why you’re here in the first place.

He blinks, and you catch the glimmer of recognition spreading across his features. “Elle n’a aucun courage” She has no spine. He remarks before continuing, “She should learn from you. You probably have spare spines.” He steps back from you before striding down the hallway in opposite direction of the nurse’s station.

No matter how annoyed you were, you couldn't peel your eyes off his muscular back until he was completely out of sight. You scoffed at yourself. How pathetic am I? You questioned yourself repeatedly until you take in his last words to you.

Did he just make a joke?

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine

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