#I love this feature its so fucking cute

[hollowsbest]

it's neat to see the counter change colour when you hit a boops given milestone!! I've only got 299 boops till I hit that 1000 goal and then maybe I'll slow down fjfnfn

[snikt111]

hi hi hi hi I found out about Hal Jordan TODAY and am going so autistic over him it’s insane can you please give me a rundown on what his deal is I think you’re the Tumblr Green Lantern guy

omg hi, insane compliment btw, tysm! i'm glad to give you a rundown!! also definitely check out @katmaatui for more hal info, red is SUPER knowledgable abt him. @rillette, @catboyollie, @halcarols, @starsapphire and @yellowcorps (along with so many others that i cant think to tag off the top of my head) have some great hal takes too! (edited the post just to tag more ppl)

apologies if this is a bit rushed/messy, i'm doing this while i smelt stone in minecraft LMAO

that being said... i think this will be a long one, so more below the cut :3

(cw for light mentions of pedophilia, abuse, canon typical violence)

okay, so hal jordan is the first human green lantern of the GREEN LANTERN CORPS. it's important to note that there was technically a human green lantern before him (alan scott, originally from earth two/the justice society, but integrated into main DC canon after crisis), but his power comes from a different source- which is a whole different ballpark that would take ages to explain, lol, so i'll move on from that.

hal was originally introduced in a showcase issue in 1959, but ended up getting a solo run in the mid 60s because of his showcase issues doing well. he's been a test pilot, middle brother, compassionate, rule follower (although being surprisingly liberal for the time) with an interesting relationship with star sapphire carol ferris since those first appearances. for the first 20 odd years of his appearances we had no information on his parents, but we got a lot from other family members, such as uncle titus, cousin hal jr (aka airwave), younger brother jim jordan and older brother jack jordan. through the 60s and 70s those members of his family were developed along with him; with the audience learning that jim's wife sue thought jim was green lantern, rather than hal, and hal himself training his cousin, hal jr.

the most known version of how hal got the ring in the first place is probably based off of geoff john's rewrite in the mid 00s, reiterating the original story of abin sur crashing onto earth and dying, leaving hal with his ring to be trained by sinestro and the rest of the glc, while also changing miniscule details that had been developed in emerald dawn 1 & 2 (which was released in the 90s, more on that later). the main premise of abin sur's crash has stayed the same, but the story around hal's current life, job, family and stability keep changing. for instance, the original comic with abin sur in showcase only showed hal getting the ring, the guardians choosing him. the first rewrite i can think of was emerald dawn volume 1, published in 1989 and continued in emerald dawn v2 (1991). here we get the classic hal watches his father die in a plane crash with carol ferris beside him as a pre adolescent, and some of the biggest implications of the mistreatment from his father. we also get introduced to hal, despite his stick to the rules, straight edge attitude, making some serious mistakes and putting people in danger and even death- with the implication of alcohol abuse. the audience HAS known hal used to be in the air force since sometime in the late 60s or early 70s (sorry, i don't remember the exact issue!), but emerald dawn shows us that hal's moved on from the air force and into test piloting, and that his mother keeps having to bail him out for making mistakes. emerald dawn vol 1 shows the abin sur moment, followed by fights that cost hal's friends life, and is followed up by sinestro training hal in emerald dawn vol 2, where we get to see the iconic scenes of hal finding out about sinestro and his... dictatorship.

along with that; how the guardians and rings are treated and hal and the glc's perception of them is vastly changed over time. in the early days of gl in the 60s, the guardians were really never to be seen. hal was repeatedly summoned to them and then had his memory almost fully wiped- only leaving a vague notion of his orders. the guardian's called hal to them at seemingly the worst times, ending up with him almost getting injured, getting in trouble at work, and even ending up jobless and homeless. the chaos of being a green lantern has been around the WHOLE time, but originally, the green lanterns didnt really... fight it. the guardian's were their masters (and even father figures, to hal) and not to be questioned. the rings in the 60s were also much more powerful, despite the yellow weakness (the yellow weakness is the notion that from about the 60s to the mid 90s the green lantern rings were completely unable to be used against anything yellow). time travel, phasing, teleporting, etc were all very viable and common things- as well as forceful shapeshifting, invisibility, mind control, mind reading, etc etc. these days, writers have dampened these powers down to mostly shooting light and constructs.

okay, it's parallax time. the emerald twilight arc from the mid 90s wasn't an arc that was as thoroughly planned out over a long period of time as it probably should have been. a lot of fans at the time (and even now) hated what happened there, and claimed it ruined hal's character entirely. i can understand why! but, at it's core, the parallax arc is a story about a broken man pushed to the limit, fully grieving his home and family (originally, he lost his brother jim in the destruction of coast city, along with a lot of other family members) and being goddamn fed up with how his "masters" treated him and the rest of the corps. the so called "perfect lantern" (no, he wasn't that much of a rebel, despite what johns wants you to think) snapped and essentially tried to gain as much power as he could to bring back coast city. when the guardians stripped him of his powers so he couldn't, hal became enraged and took down every lantern in his path, just to get to the guardians and that power. long story short, he kills the guardians and absorbs all the energy from the central power battery on oa, becoming parallax- essentially a god. this marks the start of zero hour, an event made by dc to restructure and reset; giving the comics a new generation of heroes. hal destroys the world and remakes it, but is ultimately taken down by kyle rayner, the new green lantern, with the help of the jla, jsa and associates. there are a few more run ins with parallax after this, before kyle convinces parallax/hal that he can make up for all of this by reigniting the sun after it went out- aka killing himself. hal does it, is stuck in limbo for awhile and then becomes the spectre to continue to make up for the horrible things he did as parallax. the spectre is the spirit of god's wrath and vengeance, a weapon used to drag sinners to their very own, self made hells, and scare the shit out of people. the spectre, from it's very first appearance, is a ghost like spirit that takes on a host, and is primarily described using christian terms and is used in a very... christian ideology. HOWEVER, the spectre 2001 confirms that hal is jewish (jewish mom, catholic dad) and that belief system, plus his personality as a whole, literally makes him change the spirit of vengeance into the spirit of redemption, for at least as long as they are bonded. the whole parallax to spectre arc is about grief, pain, cycles of abuse and terror, redemption and guilt. it is NOT about a fear bug that possess hal. (im so serious though, the spectre 2001 is one of the best comics ive ever read. amazing. changed my world view) but... geoff johns changed all of it, decanonized the spectre, and ruined the legacy of parallax and hal's growth as a person by releasing green lantern: rebirth in 2004/2005. this retcons hal's breakdown and journey through grief into him BEING POSSESSED BY AN ENTITY CONTROLLED BY SINESTRO THAT FULLY CHANGES PREVIOUS GREEN LANTERN CANON AND IMPLICATIONS. also, fucks up the importance of kyle becoming ion, but whatever. geoff johns writes hal (and even more so, carol) so very wrong, and change their stories so vastly in ways that go against the stories very meanings.

SIGH.

now... time to get started on some rougher stuff. hal jordan misconceptions. i'm saving that arc for last.

- hal jordan wasn't much of a rule breaker or rebel until the 70s/80s, where he BEGAN (very slowly, mind you) to be radicalized by oliver queen during denny o'neil's green lantern/green arrow. hal was painted as more of a conservative during this period (which, admittedly, kind of goes against previous canon... he's always been relatively central to liberal, not to any extremes like ollie though, lol) but gets more and more understanding of how power structures work and how lower classes are mistreated during this time- which ends up opening his eyes a bit to how shitty the guardians are. (this is helped by the guardians literally just. leaving. the green lanterns and kind of disbanding them so they can go fuck the zamarons, lmao). geoff johns tried to change this narrative into making hal a very... maverick-from-top-gun type of character, who punched his way out of the military (when, in reality, the original story during emerald knights in the late 90s was that hal had been framed for stealing a jet and was dishonorably discharged, which he took the punishment for because he knew someone had to) and hits on women constantly and gets ladies and allat (which, funnily enough hal was awful at getting carol to like him for a long time, since carol fell for green lantern rather than hal. not to mention the awkwardness of carol's proposals or hal's many, many failed relationships). hal has always been insecure and lowkey boyfailure, he is NOT a top gun maverick tom cruise sorta guy! fuck you jeremy adams!

- hes not that much of an idiot asshole. hal can be a real dick, he's had that going for him since the beginning, but he isn't what you read in batfam fics. he's not stupid and shouldn't be the laughingstock of the justice league. i assume this idea started from the obsession with batfam and the fact that the jla has quite the history of ignoring hal and his issues (as well as. all of their issues. theyre not so great at work life balance), but it's gone too far. hal isn't making fun of the robins and pissing bruce off bc of that. hal isnt fooling around on the job 24/7 (he takes being a gl and pilot VERY seriously, although he does enjoy some danger and high stakes) or slacking off to get girls. again. not top gun maverick.

- hal has not been a creep since the beginnings. hal was not weird with carol in the 60s. things were weird between them, yeah, but that's based off circumstance and the craziness of star sapphire and green lantern. he was NOT being horribly sleazy! i hate that i even need to say this, but i see this take too much not to

- going off of what was said above, lets discuss the arisia arc. if you want to be a real hal fan, this is unfortunately something you need to know about. in action comics, after crisis and the guardians left to go fuck the zamarons, most of the green lanterns fell apart and seperated. a small group went to earth- led by hal and consisting of hal, john stewart, katma tui, kilowog, salaakk, ch'p and arisia rrab. (also sometimes guy gardner, but that's complicated) previously to this arc, hal treated 14 year old arisia like a beloved little sister, welcoming her and leading her into the corps just like everyone else. things started to change once the timeline gets closer and closer to crisis, where arisia starts showing that she has a crush on hal (who is roughly 30s at this point). any advances made by arisia are shut down by hal at the beginning, because she's a child. now, it's unfortunately a common thing to just call hal a "pedophile" because of what happens in this arc- but it really isn't that simple. still weird and icky, but definitely not to the degree of which some fans like to act like it is- esp to attack hal fans for, which is... an odd choice regarding how many fucked up things every character (esp male characters) did back in the day. arisia ends up using her power ring to artifically age herself up, making her body AND MIND into that of a young adult (the comic makes this very clear). once this happens... hal stops rejecting her. they get together, they kiss. the only person in the group of green latnerns who actually has an issue with it is john (salaakk is meh about it, but he just doesn't like human-esque romance no matter what), and katma even directly encourages their relationship. kilowog ends up crushing on arisia as well, and guy gardner hits on her repeatedly throughout the whole period. eventually, hal and arisia break up, but this legacy (thank so much englehart, for wrtiting this. /sarc) is a big controversy among the comics crowd. "is hal jordan a predator?" personally, and i know a lot of friends/mutuals/other gl fans choose to erase the arisia arc entirely (versus how canon ended up retconning it to be 14 earth years is equal to that of an adult and she didn't really get super ages up, or whatever) and go with the familial relationship between hal and her. that's my preferred version! i know red (@katmaatui) has explored that version as well as an alternate version where the arisia arc did happen, and how it affects arisia in particular, which is really depressing but super interesting. anyway, it's complicated and weird and nuanced, but that whole occurence doesn't mean hal's a bad character or person (cause yk. retcons) and it's certainly not bad to like his character. (definitely ignore any guy gardner fans who try to bitch about this arc. cough cough. guy was ALSO into her and hit on her repeatedly. smfh) most people who bring this up to demonize fans didn't even read the arc, and don't know the nuance or the other weird shit that happens in it. (hal is not a horse, sigh)

OVERALL NOTES!

hal jordan is a super complicated character with an extensive history spanning from the 60s to his worse written appearances in modern age. it's okay to like any version of the character, but it is important to note the changes that have been made, the storylines butchered and lost, and more. he has quite the legacy, and he's particularly interesting as from a moral standpoint. hal's a real sweetie though, when it gets down to it! he's neurodivergent coded (imo at least.. his dad very much gets onto him for being disrtracted, hes kinda shit at social interaction (and then amazing at it the other half of the time) etc etc. "spacecase") and his dad is an abusive asshole, who he desperately doesnt want to be like but thinks he NEEDS to be like!

[skitskatdacat63]

2009 Japanese Grand Prix - Sebastian Vettel

[cloudbends]

WE GOT A CONFIRMATION

[jacqcrisis]

During the Myrkul fight, Alfonso got brought down to 1hp thanks to his orc racial ability and then on his turn, he took that big spooky skeleton from over 100hp to 0.

So I'm just imagining Al got smacked with the scythe, nearly died, heard Gale cry out to him, stood up, cracked his knuckles and wrassled that bone man into submission. Just ran up his skeleton arm, punched a hole in his skull, and then flipped them both into a backflip to slam that avatar of death into the ground, putting a decisive end to Kethric.

Gale probably tried to hug him after. Poor Alfonso couldn't stand it for long cause a lot of his bones were broken but he did the coolest shit of his career and his boyfriend is unexploded so it's fine.

[quietwingsinthesky]

my opinions on the eeveelutions are greatly affected by how goddamn hard those little bastards were to catch while playing pokepark.

[bunny-heels]

i hate how obsessed ive become to this show but god i cannot help it

[sutorus]

THE GRUDGE PROFESSOR!GETO for KINKTOBER 2023!

DESCRIPTION: everybody loves professor geto, and judging by the thousands of viewers you get on every live, a lot of people love you, too. but you and professor geto hate each other. you’ve had enough of his humiliation rituals, and decide to do something about it.

PAIRING: mean professor!geto x student!reader

WC: 5.3k i am an unstoppable beast

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, teacher/student dynamic! adult age gap! (reader is in college, unspecified age), sw/camgirl!reader (don’t like don’t read! no shaming 😤), strong language, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel, darling), reader calling geto "sir", unprotected relations, creampie, afab reader and terms

A/N: this switches between povs a lot so i hope that’s okay or at least readable lol! also i set out to write him so much meaner but he’s just kind of a simp... enjoy?

reblogs are very much appreciated i'll uwu for u :pleading eyes emoji:

it is said that those who cannot do, teach. 

geto suguru could have done many things. he had the brains, the muscles, the features, the traits. the ambition to succeed in any field he desired. satoru says in a world ruled by the strong there is no place for humility. 

but humility is not why suguru became a teacher. neither is ineptitude. no, he’d become a teacher because it was the right thing to do. 

to use his gifts to help shape new generations, help unlock potentials long dorment and buried deep under years of a lackluster schooling system. geto suguru prided himself, above all, in being a righteous man. 

but japan’s most upstanding citizen for 28 years in a row held a shameful secret. a secret in the shape of you. 

he saw the darkest sides of himself on your face (eyebrows scrunched, eyes shut tightly, jaw slack as you—), your voice (higher in pitch with desperate moans that sound almost scared on the brink of your—), your body (taut and plump in all the right places, glistening with sweat, bouncing up and down on a—). 

when you walked into his classroom that fateful day, the world tilted on its axis. his first thought was, fuck, then, it can’t be, then, most embarrassing of all, i’ll finally find out what she smells like. 

(he did, when you went up to his desk to hand over your test. a whiff of vanilla, argon oil shampoo. too sweet, too youthful. and he’d watched you leave, tennis skirt flowing like a water lily, dick already chubby in his pants.)

it was slowly starting to consume him.

the first time you spoke in class, he knew he hadn’t been mistaken. it was really you. the cute, slutty girl he’d been milking his cock to for the better part of a year. 

god, when you finally said his name. you would never in your wildest dreams think that he’d been imagining those words coming out of your mouth, of him coming out of your mouth, dripping out of you, all over you—

he was losing it. this was not like him. this was never supposed to happen, and he has to put an end to it. 

everybody knew of geto suguru, the prodigy professor. already getting a phd despite not even being 30, handling the administrative slack for the department while managing office hours every day of the week, promoting student events, helping organize spirit weeks and charity drives. 

everything he did, he did for others. those not as capable as him — which was most people. in other words, it was really, really hard to hate him. 

but you damn well managed to. 

and to think you were excited to take his class. everybody told you to run, not walk, to sign up for his twentieth-century Japanese philosophy chair. 

“oh, professor geto is just the best,” they’d said. “he makes it sound so interesting and engaging, he gives the most life changing assignments, he really cares about us.”

bullshit. 

the first time you stepped into that classroom, suspiciously full for a philosophy class, you felt a shift in the air almost immediately. 

and sure enough, professor geto suguru was eyeing you down like he’d just seen a ghost. it made you self conscious, like he’d taken one look at you and decided right then and there you were too dumb for the class. 

it made your blood boil. sure, you stood out a little bit from the actual philosophy majors, but that doesn’t mean he gets to judge you. he literally doesn’t know you!

but fine, first impressions are tricky like that. for all you knew, you could’ve been misjudging him right there. 

however, with each passing day, you grew more and more assured in your suspicions.

you knew the man had it out for you, always calling on you to answer when he knew you weren’t paying attention, never grading your papers above a B even though you did everything right, somehow managing to fucking avoid you during his excessive office hours. 

his looks were almost the most infuriating part of it.

his beautiful face constantly set in that nonchalant look, his big veiny hands always gesticulating, his huge fucking arms straining the fabric of those dress shirts, his ear gauges and man bun contrasting the prim and proper image the rest of him conveyed. 

under different circumstances, he’d make your mouth water. under different circumstances, you’d imagine him going down on you all night long, singing praise about how good you taste and how tight you are. 

but in this timeline, you absolutely loathed him. and he loathed you too. why? you didn’t know. 

but you knew for a fact that it was personal. 

“i don’t care,” megumi said around a mouthful of meatball, cutting your monologue short. “i’m not doing it.”

you sigh, melting into your chair. “megumi. please. i am literally begging you, i just need some hard evidence so i can go report his ass.”

he eyes you curiously. “report him for what?”

“i don’t know. bullying? sexism? whatever the hell his problem is,” you pick at your food, huffing in annoyance. 

“you’re overthinking it,” megumi replies, dismissively. 

“okay, how about this,” you lean forward, putting an elbow on the table. “if you write the assignment for me, i’ll get your dog that expensive halloween costume you’ve been wanting.”

megumi lifts an eyebrow. 

“you need to get one for each,” he says simply. 

you grin. “deal.”

suguru really does give it his all to make your life with him a living hell. pulls out all the stops, years of friendship with gojo satoru paying off as he comes up with ploy after ploy to get you to drop his class. 

it feels bad, being mean to you. but for the hidden, twisted parts of him, it feels delicious. 

watching you huff and puff, all hot and bothered when he corrects your answers on the spot. watching you nibble on your pen at the increasingly difficult exams he hands out. letting himself wonder if you missed a stream this week because you were too busy cramming for a make up test. 

he knows he’s pushing you to your limit, and even if there’s some sort of sick satisfaction in seeing you so agitated at his hands when it’s usually the other way around, he doesn’t enjoy upsetting you. 

the problem is, suguru knows it’s either he gets his shit together or he continues tormenting you, and, well. 

the spirit is willing but the flesh is so, so weak. 

he knows it’s getting worse, too, because he’s not infatuated by you only when you’re undressing on his screen, or all dolled up in class. 

when you tie your hair up in a ponytail, when you suck on a hangnail, when you lick your thumb to erase a smudge on your paper… all of it drives him wild. 

he can’t teach with a permanent half chub anymore. this has to end, one way or another. 

you sit down in front of your computer, adjusting the camera before turning it on. soon, viewers start trickling in, little dings notifying you of their messages. 

you smile, waving at the screen. 

“hi everyone! i know i’m a little bit late today, i hope you can forgive me…” your eyes scan the chat, giggling at the compliments. “‘you look tired, sad face’, ah. i’m sorry. i guess i’ve been a little stressed lately.”

your robe falls over your shoulder as you readjust your position. a few donations come in, accompanied by supportive messages.

“you guys are so nice. it’s not a big deal, it’s just this dude giving me a hard time at college.” 

you absentmindedly trace your collarbones, reading what your viewers are saying. 

“you’ll kill him for me? that’s so sweet,” you joke. “nah, it’s not a student. it’s a professor. exactly, ynlover444, a grown ass man picking on me!”

you sigh deeply, allowing your body to finally unwind and relax on your chair. you prop a knee up against the armrest, giving your viewers a little peek in between your legs. you’re wearing one of your favorite sets, trying to get in the mood after the week you’ve had. 

“ugh, sometimes i wish i could just…” you suck in a breath, clenching your hand into a fist before releasing it. “sit on his face and get him to shut up, you know?”

you laugh at the countless me firsts that flood the chat, bringing a finger to your lip. 

“anyway! enough about that horrible man,” you reach beside you to grab a box your viewers know all too well by now. “let’s get to the fun stuff, shall we?”

as always, satoru is no help. 

“why don’t you just fuck her?” he asks, eyebrows arching above his sunglasses. “ya gotta just fuck her.”

suguru clears his throat before taking a drag of his cigarette. “i’m not fucking a student.”

satoru shrugs. “everybody does it. besides, you basically already do.” 

suguru wonders, not for the first time, why he ever told his friend about his situation. about your streams, that he’d stumbled upon randomly and innocently and had gotten instantly hooked, about you barging into his classroom like an angel at hell’s gates, about you you you you, everything about you. 

“that won’t fix anything.”

satoru clicks his tongue, swirling his soda inside the can.

“poor, naive suguru. did you not just tell me about what she said on her stream?" and yes, regrettably, suguru had told him. "it’ll fix everything.”

suguru doesn’t even let himself consider it, except he does.

at this point it’s no secret that he’s thought about being inside you, but now that you’re here it’s just too real and too risky and completely fucking wrong. 

it goes against the entire life he’s built for himself. 

he’s lost. he wants you so fucking bad, wants you close, wants you so far away, wants to ravage you and never have to see you again. 

it’s fight or flight. if he got you alone, it could go either way, he realizes that. 

suguru wonders what part of him will win by the end of all of this. 

your heels clack on the linoleum floor of the hallway as you approach professor geto’s classroom, megumi’s graded paper clutched tightly against your chest. 

the thing about megumi is that he's a star student. he’s never gotten anything below an A on any of his essays, makes the dean’s list every year, tutors his seniors. so the big, bright B- on the page tells you everything you need to know. 

damn right it’s personal. 

you don’t even bother knocking, slamming the door open while still trying to contain your indignation. 

geto is sitting at his desk, piles of papers sprawled on top. he has his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and a surprised look on his face that would be cute if you didn’t want to slap it right off. 

he says your last name like he’d been expecting you all his life.

“to what do i owe the pleasure?”

your jaw clenches as you take a few loud steps towards him. you slam megumi’s paper down on his desk, leaning over. 

“professor geto, i demand an explanation. a real one, this time.”

the man takes a deep breath, lips twisting disapprovingly. he smoothes the paper over.

“as i already explained in my notes right here, the structure is fine, but i couldn’t help but miss a more in-depth analysis of the four nodal concerns of philosophy that we talked about in class, such as—“

“no,” you interrupt. “just no. you know you’re bullshitting me and i’m sick of it. this paper deserved an A!”

“miss—“

“what’s your problem with me?” you spit out. your eyes finally meet and there’s nothing in geto’s that could answer your question. your chest is heaving, lips wobbling and hands shaking, trying to contain your anger. 

geto clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable. “like i said, your paper could’ve used a bit more—“

“no it fucking couldn’t have, because it’s not my fucking paper, it’s fushiguro’s fucking paper and the only reason you gave it a B is because i was the one who handed it in!”

he sits up, straightening his posture.

geto sounds austere when he asks, “do you realize how much trouble this could be for both of you if i reported it?”

you can’t believe this man. he’s been picking on you the entire semester and when you finally confront him about it this is what he chooses to focus on. 

“are you fucking kidding me?” that earns you a stern look from him, eyebrow raising taller than that fucking high horse he sits on. “professor geto. what did i ever do to you?”

there must be something earnest in your voice because geto sighs, getting up from his chair. 

he walks until he’s standing in front of you, leaning against his desk and crossing his feet. 

“do i bother you?” is all he says. it surprises you. 

you jut your chin out. “as a matter of fact, you do.”

the man hums. 

“i bet that’s really difficult for you,” he speaks like he’s sympathetic, like he understands. he sounds almost sheepish when he says, “i bet sometimes you wish i would just shut up.”

you blink rapidly. “no, it’s not like that. it might shock you but i genuinely do enjoy your class, it’s just that—“

“or maybe you wish you could shut me up,” he continues, ignoring you. “maybe going as far as to say that you could… sit on my face to get me to shut up.” 

your mouth goes dry.

before your brain can fully process the shift in the atmosphere or the fact that your professor is maybe possibly hitting on you, you realize where those words are coming from. 

it’s what you said. about him. on stream. right before fucking yourself on your hot pink dildo. 

you can’t speak, can barely even look in his general direction. 

you had really thought things couldn’t get any worse. had barged into his office with nothing to lose, almost hoping he would cordially invite you to remove yourself from his class permanently. 

but now? now you have no idea what’s going to happen to you. 

“i…” you start, the words dying in your throat. geto chuckles, crossing his fat fucking muscly arms across his chest. 

he says your name, low and syrupy. “is it true? you’d like to?”

you can feel your face flush hot in embarrassment, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other, wishing desperately that you’d never walked into his classroom. 

you have half the mind to apologize to him, right now.

“it’s just a figure of speech,” you try. geto clicks his tongue. 

“what a shame.”

your wide eyes shoot up and meet his. “w-what?”

he smiles sweetly. 

“it’s a peace offering. you can take it, or we can forget you ever said anything,” and isn’t he just so slimey, actually, when he’s the one who brought it up. he had said it, and now… 

now you can finally allow yourself to look at him.

those delicious, broad shoulders, the ever-present bored look, the stubborn fringe that falls out of his bun. 

you could so easily forget what you came here for. 

“so, like, a truce?” you ask, taking a daring step forward. geto nods, uncrossing his arms. “and you stop treating me like i’m fucking dumb?”

he tilts his head. “i think you’re a very smart young lady. determined. entrepreneurial…”

“geto—“

“professor geto,” he corrects you, hands reaching out to graze your hips. “you’re intelligent. i just like to push my students.”

you both know that’s a lie, but it’s okay, because now you know exactly why you got under his skin and it makes your own burn. 

you run a hand down the line of buttons on the front of his shirt, looking up at him through your eyelashes. 

“then… push me, professor.”

it’s so incredibly lame, the porn line you hit him with, but to your surprise it works, a low groan rumbling deep in geto’s chest. 

he swiftly closes the distance between the two of you, grabbing both sides of your face and crashing your lips together. 

it’s ravenous, the way geto dips his tongue inside when you gasp in surprise. you moan against his mouth, slipping a leg in between his two. 

he’s half hard already when he rubs up against your thigh. 

geto picks you up with ease and sets you down on his desk, and it’s so fucking cliché, the papers crinkling under your weight, the pens clattering to the floor. but it turns you on beyond belief. 

you share a few open mouthed kisses, an exchange of tongue and moans and hot breaths between your lips. 

if you were honest with yourself, you'd admit that you've fantasized about it before. a silly idea, at first, something you'd just blurted out mid-stream.

but that little seed had been planted, and when you got yourself off that night, you might've imagined for a moment that it was your mean professor's cock squeezed tight inside you, making you come undone.

geto slips his hands under your skirt, grabbing your ass and pulling you closer to him. you line up your crotch with his, moving your hips in tight little circles that make the both of you groan. 

his fingers are tugging your underwear down, down, the soft patch sticking to your gooey cunt. he lets the soaked fabric dangle from your ankle, grazing the back of his knuckles on your core. 

“mmm, fuck,” geto breaks the kiss, swallowing. his pretty lips are flushed and shiny, parted around his panted breaths. “you always get this wet or am i special?”

he’s smirking, the bastard, leaning back in to kiss your neck.

god, you smell so good, like lotion and perfume and sunshine and sin. 

“shouldn’t you know?” you sneak your fingers up into his bun, pushing your chest against him. he works his lips expertly on your skin, using just the right amount of teeth, of pressure.

geto hums against your neck, kissing a line up to your jaw. he snakes a hand under your skirt, thumb pressing down hard to rub on your clit, two fingers slipping inside. 

you immediately clench, a soft, drawn out mewl leaving your lips. 

the slide of his fingers against your walls send a chill down your spine, filling you up so perfectly. you feel the thin skin at your opening stretch around him, burning at the friction as his fingers plunge in and out of you. 

“god, look at that,” he rests his forehead on your shoulder and pulls the hem of your skirt up. “do you hear that, baby? so fucking wet for me.”

you whine, hands cupping his jaw so you can kiss him again. 

“please…” you mumble against his lips. “more…”

you wonder how much of what you can say he's heard before, which exact words have left your lips and sent him over the edge. it makes you self conscious, oddly, like he can see right through you.

not-so-kindly ignoring your request, geto removes his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth.

you watch as his eyelids flutter in pleasure, a hum rumbling low in his throat. 

he looks so good like this, just edible.

you pull him in for a kiss before he can, relishing in the surprised little noise he lets out. your knees are wobbling, feet dangling from your seat as you taste yourself on his tongue. 

he swallows your moan hungrily, forearms trembling with the need to hold back.

geto knows this is wrong, so wrong on so many levels, puts both your positions in jeopardy, it makes him feel perverted and primal and so fucking alive. 

he’s been watching you fuck yourself on those silly toys for god knows how long now, knows every spot that makes your hips buck, knows exactly how to make you cream like a debased slut around a cock. 

it should feel unfair, how easy it’s going to be for him to make you cum, only if it weren’t for the fact that your mere presence is enough to get him hard as fucking diamonds. 

“tastes good, huh?” he whispers, thumb caressing your chin. you nod, smiling devilishly. 

“tastes better on your tongue, prof.” 

geto groans low like a starved animal, holding your throat in his hand with a loose grip. he’s overwhelmed, that much shows, not knowing what to do with you or where to start. but there’s one thing he’s sure of. 

he presses one last kiss to your spit-slick lips before dropping to his knees. 

you can hardly believe it. sulky, big bad bully professor geto suguru on his knees for you. you prop a foot up on his desk, your sole skidding on a piece of paper. 

“scoot closer, please,” he asks, cordial even like this. you bring your ass to the edge of the desk, your dripping pussy hovering over his face. 

he looks so good under you, hair already disheveled, a delicious tent in his tailored pants. 

you tuck the hem of your skirt into the waistline so you can watch as he sucks your clit into his mouth, moaning like he’s fucking relieved. 

you throw your head back, fingers buried in his silky hair as geto’s fingers find their way back inside. 

he fucks them in and out of you lazily, pushing out strings of slick. geto slurps it all up, spreading your wetness all over your clit and sucking it back in his mouth. 

god, his cock is straining in his pants but he doesn’t dare touch it, can’t until he’s inside you. you taste like fucking heaven, like all his fantasies, like he always knew you would. 

you’re whining softly, bucking your hips into his face almost shyly, as to disrupt his pace.

you sound so much better in person, although he can’t wait to have you moaning into his ear without needing the headphones. 

“god, this perfect pussy,” geto mumbles into you, his breathing labored. he runs a thumb all over your cunt, gliding it over your soaked lips. “been dreaming about it for so long.”

“yeah?” you ask. “tell me. tell me how you stroke your cock to me every night.”

and every night might be overselling it. geto is a busy man. 

but your words do make him realize that no girl he’s had since he found your stream has satisfied him quite like you do. your flirty smile, your moans, the way they sometimes turn into uncontained giggles as you stuff your pretty cunt with a dildo. 

so he tells you, blush spreading across his cheeks. 

“fuck, i do,” he tongues your clit, tracing lazy circles. “i do. just look what you do to me.“

and there it is, that cheeky, slutty giggle, directed at something he said this time. 

he takes his fingers out, spreading your opening with both thumbs as he licks you all over. 

geto gulps, tongue dipping inside of you, sucking your clit into his mouth, sliding down to your entrance, every clench of your pussy pushing out more and more slick for him. no one's ever eaten you out as thoroughly as this.

“oh, fuck, sir,” it slips out casually, the way it would were you talking to any other professor. but given the circumstances, you revel in the deep moan geto buries into your cunt. 

you trap your lips between your teeth to keep anything else from tumbling out, but it’s useless.

“please, sir, i’m so close—so close just keep doing that, yeah just like that—“

“fuck,” he mumbles, pulling away to suck in a desperate breath. then, “fuck,” sultrier, right into your core. 

you grind against his face, finding purchase in his hair as a final few flicks of his tongue push you right into the crest of a mind-numbing orgasm.

it’s so good, so much better than when you're alone. the friction so perfect, his long, thick fingers plugging you up last minute to viciously fuck into you. 

“god…,” you breathe out, legs trembling as he runs his hands up your thighs. 

his chin is glistening, bubbles of spit and cum gathering in the corner of his mouth. he looks so good like this, like he was meant to please you and nothing else. 

geto feels like a fucking teenager, so goddamn close to busting in his pants at the sight of you. his dick hurts, balls tight and the head throbbing where it’s tucked into his underwear. 

“please, sweetheart,” he can’t hold himself back any longer, slick fingers already undoing his belt. 

you get to work on his zipper, pulling his pants down along with his underwear and damn. 

you figured he was big. he was a tall man, broad shoulders, shoes the size of a yacht, and the bulge in his trousers was a pretty good indication. but it couldn’t have prepared you for the sheer size of him. 

longer than it is thick, cleanly shaven, pretty veins and ridges and standing angry red in attention. god, you want it inside you. 

he notices you looking. 

“do you need more prep? i can—“

“no, fuck no, suguru, need it inside me now,” you wrap a hand around him and he hisses, caging you in with his arms on the desk. 

he huffs out a laugh, blowing the fringe framing his face. “what happened to sir?”

you kiss down his jaw, squeezing right below his tip. 

“sorry, sir,” you say against his ear. “are you going to punish me for my slip up?”

geto groans, pulling on your hair hard and making you face him. 

“take your shirt off for me,” he instructs, and you obey, maneuvering around his tight grip on the back of your head. 

his spirit is so unbreakable.

here you are, teasing him, coaxing him to rough you up, push you around, relieve both your frustrations properly once and for all, but he’s just so… adoring, and hungry, and just so irrevocably into you, and you find out that’s so much better. 

geto relents his hold on you to unclasp your bra, cupping your breasts and sucking a nipple into his mouth. you whine, caressing his hair. 

“so fucking perfect,” he massages your tits, looking mesmerized. 

“yeah? they haven’t gotten old to you yet?”

he laughs, so cute, and you can barely remember that just hours ago you hated the sight of him. you stroke his cock up and down, squeezing harder at the tip trying to milk all that delicious pre he’s been wasting on the inside of his boxers. 

“no, f-fuck—never gonna get old,” he pushes your boobs against each other, imagining his cock sliding in between them, his balls nestled underneath, his load blown all over your pretty face—

fuck, he’s gonna cum if he keeps going like this. 

he rips your hand away from him, ignoring your knowing smirk and pushing his tongue into your mouth. 

“i’m gonna fuck you now, okay, sweetheart?” you moan, nodding, shimmying your hips so he can have the perfect angle. 

a big hand clasps your thigh to wrap your leg around his hips as his tip pokes around your entrance.

you’re whining in anticipation, clenching around nothing, nails clawing his clothed back. 

when he slips in, it feels like coming home. you’re like warm honey around him, cunt pushing him out but clinging to him at the same time, with every stroke. it’s fucking maddening. 

“ahh, g-god, sir, ‘s too big—“ you swallow around the lump in your throat, feeling the tip of his cock in your guts. 

he’s huffing, concentrated, bullying his cock into you inch by inch with shallow thrusts until he finally bottoms out. 

“fuuuuck, angel,” he grips your waist with both hands, like he could just fuck you up and down his length if he wanted to. “took me so well, look at that.”

you do, dropping your heavy head to look at where you’re connected. you clench around him and he whines, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in. 

the metal legs of the desk skid on the floor, papers and pens raining down to the floor as geto starts roughly plunging in and out of you. 

you let out little ah, ah, ahs in time with his strokes, the ache deep in your stomach finally starting to fade. 

“f-fuck, you’re gonna—topple us over, suguru, go easy—“

“can’t,” he chokes out, wheezing as he pushes his cock in as far as it can go. 

he gives shallow little thrusts, his length straining the fine skin at your entrance so good, hitting a spot inside you over and over that makes your head spin. 

your fingers twist into the back of his shirt, pulling him in to whine right into his ear.

he’s so big, stretching you out so thin that you feel every ridge and vein, can feel both your heartbeats inside your cunt. 

“ohhhhh fuck, fuck sir, please please touch me—“

he grabs your ass before you can even finish your sentence and presses you flush against his hips. 

geto’s tip is kissing your cervix now, his balls sticky and creamy against your ass, your clit grinding against his pubic bone as his thrusts violently shake the both of you. 

“fuck, wanna do it so fucking loud but i can’t, we can’t, what if someone walks in—“

you moan wantonly at his words, expecting to be chided, but geto seems to love it despite his worries because his cock kicks deliciously inside of you.

“look how loud you’re being, listen to yourself,” he grunts out, the belt pooled around his feet clanging with every stroke, the absolutely lewd squelches from your pussy resonating in the entire classroom. 

you two sound so good together, better than you’ve ever had, better than he could’ve ever imagined. 

“so loud, so wet on this cock,” he spits out, sweaty strands of hair sticking to his forehead. “do those toys make you feel this good? this full? answer me.” 

“hahh, n-no, no one but you,” you can’t think straight, head thrown back in pleasure and eyes squeezed shut. “only you, sir.”

geto whines like he’s aching, pounding into you mercilessly and making a mess under the two of you. 

“fuck yeah, that’s right. i’m making you feel good, baby?”

“mm-hm,” you mumble, tongue lolling out. geto's going so hard now, has you pressed up so tight against him, body caging you in, fucking every breath and thought right out of you. “close.”

“yeah?” he speeds up his effort slightly, and you’re sure he’s going to have desk-edge shaped bruises on his thighs tomorrow. “gonna cum on my cock? cream all over me?”

you let out a long, drawn out whine, tits bouncing up and down with the force of geto’s thrusts. 

“let me see your face when you cum, darling,” he cups the back of your neck, breathing hard through his nose. “keep your eyes on me. that’s right, sweetie, so good, you’re doing so good.”

you preen at the praise, feeling suddenly self conscious with the man's laser focus attention on you. 

you coo out little noises, growing in desperation, holding onto his biceps for dear life as his hips piston in and out of you. 

your pull him into you closer and rub your clit against him, grinding helplessly as your orgasm creeps closer and closer. 

the moment you open your eyes and meet his hungry ones, you’re cumming. your walls spasm around him, making the glide of his dick impossibly wetter with your release. 

geto chokes on a sound, his cock hostage of your pussy’s vice-like grip as your greedy cunt milks him for all he's got. 

“f-fuck, baby, look so pretty when you cum, always look so fucking sexy so fucking perfect that you’re gonna make me bust, i’m gonna cum for you god gonna cum inside, gonna blow my load all deep inside this pussy—“ 

it’s the most desperate he’s ever sounded, speaking through clenched teeth and a soaked mouth. you moan in return, letting him use you. 

he slams his forehead down your shoulder when he thrusts once, twice, three times and cums, his balls drawing up so tight that it hurts. he fucks it into you with shallow thrusts, panting, almost wheezing in pleasure. 

it feels like it lasts forever, his orgasm. like all of the blood in his body goes straight to his balls to push out the thickest, most satisfying nut of his life into the prettiest girl he's ever seen.

you feel it fill you up so good, hear it, too, squelching and sticking to both of you. 

geto’s body slumps against yours and you stay like that for a while, catching your breaths. there’s cum sliding out of you, down his balls, onto some poor student’s essay you have your ass on top of. 

when he pulls out of you, he takes a beat to watch it spill out of you some more, his face and chest red, his smile groggy. 

“god, this,” geto has to fight the urge to say thank you for letting him fuck your brains out. he swallows. 

“yeah,” you blink away the haze, feeling sore and fucked out. “this.”

“…is probably going to happen again, right?”

he knows it shouldn’t. he knows it will.

maybe both parts of geto can learn to coexist.  

you grin, touching the tip of your tongue to his lips. 

“well, i still haven’t made good on that promise of sitting on your face, have i?” 

the next morning, in class, the students erupt in happiness at the news that professor geto had an accident that ended up ruining most of last week’s graded papers he had in his possession. 

so he decided to give everyone an A for their troubles. 

and finally, finally, there was peace in the world.

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 3

in which spencer reid spends a rainy day teaching inexperienced fem!reader how to touch him. of course, her efforts don't go unrecognized, much less unrewarded

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings: inexperienced reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, oral m receiving, reader swallows lol, a truly sickening amount of praise, like really, you JOKINGLY refer to each other as dirty sluts, r has longish hair, spit mentioned once, thigh riding (moans loudly), its filthy idk what to tell you, i feel like i've crossed the desert on foot i don't even know what else is in here, your honor they're in love, i take you to dinner first, this part is stupidly long a/n: had a fucking field day the three separate times i had to rewrite this el oh el... but think i like how it turned out?! anyway, if u like this PLS lmk bc writing it took a small piece of my soul, and yes there will be a part four!! take care of yourselves!! i love you!!!

You give Spencer half a minute or so before knocking on his door for a second time. 

It’s miserable outside, and though the hallway you’re standing in now isn’t terribly cold, you’d much prefer to be in Spencer’s apartment, where it will be the same toasty 68.5 degrees as always. Not that the heating will magically dry you. And not that you’ll be there for long, if the date you’d scheduled last week goes on as planned. 

You’re getting worried, about to knock for a third time when the locks finally click and the door opens to reveal a disheveled Spencer Reid—not at all looking ready for a date. You take in his ensemble; blue checked pajama pants, FBI Academy crewneck, the usual questionably paired socks. He’s rubbing his droopy eyes, which slowly widen as he notices your attire. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, our date! I mean—you look really nice. I look… like this. Why don’t you come in while I get ready to go?”

He holds the door open a little wider and you step through, relishing in the familiar warmth as you pull your hood down and excess water droplets spatter on the ground. 

“When did you get in?” you ask, hanging your raincoat up on a hook. You know he’d wrapped up a case yesterday evening, but you’d gone to sleep before the team left Cincinnati. 

Spencer pauses in the middle of the room, staring at the antique flooring like he forgot what he was doing. 

“Uh… four hours ago.”

“Wh—four hours? Spencer, you must be exhausted.”

He laughs awkwardly, running a tired hand over his face. 

“I mean�� I’ve definitely felt better.”

You kick your soaked shoes off and cross the room until you’re toe to toe with him. Immediately his hands settle on your waist and yours find his arms. His eyes are kind, and he’s clearly pleased by your presence despite his lack of energy. 

“The weather’s terrible, anyway. Let’s just go out another day.”

His features have softened and you can see how tired he truly is—not just in his bleary eyes, but the way his fingers grasp weakly to you, the way his head bows slightly. It seems bone-deep. 

“But I haven’t seen you in a week. I don’t want you to go home.”

Your lips twist. A clap of thunder rolls in the distance and the rain starts coming down even harder against the windowpanes. 

“We could hang out here. We can take a nap!”

Spencer sighs—half resignation, half disappointment. 

“But we made such good plans,” he laments. 

You kiss his cheek. 

“Plans that can be rescheduled. The bookstore will still be there next weekend.”

It takes him a moment to settle into the idea, but you watch the exhaustion win. 

“Okay. But no nap. I want to be awake for you. Coffee?”

You nod enthusiastically, beaming at the prospect of getting to spend the day doing nothing with him. Spencer mirrors your grin, before pressing a kiss to your head.

“You’re so cute.” Heat creeps into your cheeks and you can’t think of a satisfactory reply, but in the end you don’t need to, as he tugs gently on your hands. “C’mon. Tell me what mug you want.”

The kitchen counter bites into your palms as you lean with your back to it, watching Spencer putter all around the kitchen as he works on the coffee. It makes you tired just to watch. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap? Caffeine isn’t a substitute for sleep, you know.”

“I do know,” he agrees, measuring coffee grounds. “But other than last night, I actually slept fairly well this week.”

“You seem exhausted.”

“I… am tired in lots of ways. Not all of which can be resolved with more sleep.” he admits.

Your heart drops ever so slightly at the way his voice weakens as he looks through the fridge. Sometimes you remember there are still things you don’t know about him—sides you haven’t met. His work side is one of them, and it more than a little intimidates you.

“Bad case?” you ask, voice quiet and crackling with nervous energy. 

Spencer nods, approaching and setting a carton of milk on the counter behind you—caging you in with his arms in the process. It’s hard to find the words when he’s this close, but you manage to stumble through them. 

“Do… do you wanna talk about it?”

Spencer hums, tilting his head before gently saying, “not right now. But thank you for offering, lovely.”

“Okay, well—if you change your mind… if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better…”

Finally he stops with the teasing—the unabashed staring at your lips, the faux-attentive nods—and drops his head to your level to kiss you properly. It’s obviously an attempt to get you to shut up, you’re not dumb enough so as to miss that—but you don’t really care why he’s doing it so long as he does it at all. 

“I feel pretty great right now, actually,” he murmurs against your lips, a hint of a smile coloring his words. “Do you want sugar in yours?”

“Um…”

Your eyes dart helplessly between his as he pulls away and you struggle to un-fluster yourself enough to answer his simple question. Spencer seems to delight in this. The longer it takes you, the bigger his perfect smile gets. 

“You took too long. You’re getting sugar.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” you plead later on the couch, for the third or fourth time, setting your mostly-empty mug on the coffee table. 

His eyebrows raise. 

“I’m sure, honey.”

“But I want to help,” you pout, pulling your knees into your chest. Spencer regards you for a moment from the other end of the couch, before beckoning you closer wordlessly. 

“You are helping,” he assures you, gently grabbing your wrist as you crawl into his lap. He rubs soothing circles into the delicate skin with his thumb. “You being here and being you is plenty.”

It’s the closest you’ve been to him since before he left, and while you’ve all but given up on asking him to sleep with you, it doesn’t mean you don’t think about it multiple times per day. It’s especially difficult to keep your thoughts PG when you haven’t seen him in a week, and his hair is all messy, and he’s got his pajamas on, and you’re in his lap, and he’s looking at you like that. 

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer murmurs, likely concerned by your lack of response and the glazed-over look in your eyes. You reanimate, averting your gaze to the spot on your thigh he’s now rubbing absentmindedly. 

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“I missed you a lot, too.” You don’t even have to look up to know that his brows have twisted into a pleasant sort of bemusement, like you are a particularly complex puzzle—you can hear it as he continues speaking. “I’m still not used to having something external take up so much of my attention while I’m trying to do my job. I’ve never had that before. Not something good, anyway. It’s like every time I leave, I’m thinking about you more than the time before. And I was already thinking about you a lot.”

The corner of your mouth twitches as he rambles. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he chuckles. “You prove to be incredibly distracting even when you’re hundreds of miles away. Do you know how many nights I almost called you before realizing it was one in the morning?”

A slow smile spreads over your face. 

“Oh? Whatever could you have been calling about at one in the morning?”

You’re teasing him, and it works. He blushes adorably. 

“Um… probably exactly what you’d expect. In hindsight I think it’s best that I refrained.”

“What?” You grin, incredulous, forgetting your shyness and leaning closer. “You totally should’ve. I’ve never had phone sex before. I would’ve done it.”

“No, you wouldn’t!” Spencer laughs. “It would have just been me talking to myself with you on the other line. I don’t think phone sex is really up your alley.”

“Shut up,” you laugh as your lips meet. He smiles into the kiss. Before you get too lost in it, you pull away, leaning back when he tries to follow you. “I think you’re over-complicating it. It’s just dirty talk, right? I can totally do that. It’s just, like… blah blah blah, dirty slut, something something…”

You trail off as he gives you a look. Poker faced—aside from the slightly narrowed eyes sparkling with humor. 

“You want me to refer to you as a dirty slut?”

Maintaining eye contact is an uphill battle—you crack in a matter of seconds, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes stubbornly. 

“No. For all you know I want to call you a dirty slut.”

It’s ridiculous, but he recognizes the bravado for what it is, still smiling slightly as he rubs your hips. 

“Right. I apologize for assuming. But just for future reference, I don’t want to be called that, and I don’t think I’d be comfortable calling you that, either.”

“But you can call me other stuff,” you remind your boyfriend, pulling back and still not looking at him. 

“Yeah? Like what?”

And just like that, you’re shy again. 

“I don’t know… nice things. I like when you’re nice.”

“I like being nice to you.” It’s so sincere-sounding that you meet his gaze, examining his face. His eyes are clear and soft on you, the only source of warm light on such a grey day, as his hands keep running slow lines over your sides. “Kiss?”

And how could you ever deny him anything? 

As has happened before, the kiss starts out innocent enough. And it’s not that it gets particularly heated, or anything—it’s just that it doesn’t end, and after a few moments your mouth slips open and so does his and that’swhat gets both of you worked up over a period of minutes. Pressure and heat that you’re becoming accustomed to build between your legs, and you don’t even notice that you’ve begun rocking back and forth in his lap until Spencer is attempting to still your hips with patient but assertive hands. 

“Honey, that’s—slow down, sweetheart.”

Finally he gets a grip on you and you realize as soon as you stop moving that there had been friction occurring—and you’re pretty damn sure you know what you were grinding against. 

Your whole body feels hot with arousal and embarrassment. 

“Oh my god—I’m sorry,” you mumble, moving your hands from his shoulders to cover your face. “That was an accident, I—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer assures you, squeezing your waist gently. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing because I know we haven’t… gotten there, yet.”

A moment passes—your hands fall to the FBI stitching across his chest, studying the letters without really seeing them. You haven’t gotten there yet… but why not? Why haven’t you touched him, or even seen him? You think back to the few times he’s touched you and realize that you had been too busy with either your own insecurities or pleasure to genuinely consider how it might be affecting him. He says your name gently, drawing your attention. 

“You okay?”

You nod haltingly, brow furrowed as you think. 

“I—yeah. I was just realizing that I haven’t, like… touched you, yet.”

It’s silent for another long second, and you glance up, to where he’s studying you with a dissonant kind of relaxed scrutiny—a knowing confidence that probably comes with a lot more experience than you have. 

“Do you want to?”

Woah. 

Usually you have to beg on hands and knees and prepare a slideshow presentation before he agrees to doing anything sexual in nature. He’s never so overtly invited or initiated it before. Not that you’re complaining by any stretch of the imagination.  

You nod shyly, still fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. 

“If you want to, I can show you how. But it’s also absolutely okay if you don’t.”

Show you how? 

Your brain is melting into sludge at the idea. 

“I do,” you admit, meeting his gaze again. It’s kind, and you know he really wouldn’t be upset if you said no—but now that you’ve thought about it, you feel deeply compelled to try. 

“Okay. Come here, first.” You lean forward expectantly, eyes fluttering shut as his hand finds the back of your neck and he pulls you into another soft kiss. By the time your lips separate again, your head is spinning. “We’re just trying something, okay? You’re allowed to stop whenever you feel like it. Really low stakes. Got it?”

You nod, still close enough that your noses brush as you do. 

“Got it.”

He presses one more chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away and leaning back into the couch. 

“Scoot back a little, angel.”

Wordlessly you do so, heart pounding with nervous excitement as he lifts his hips and slides his pajama pants down just enough to where he can comfortably pull himself out, and—

Your breath catches. 

Now, you may be about as virginal as they come, but you weren’t born yesterday. You’ve seen porn, you’ve received unsolicited nudes—it is the 21st century. Yet never before have you thought to yourself; wow, that dick is the pinnacle of beauty. Perfect. Breathtaking. But there’s just no other way to describe him. 

So that’s what hits you first—how unexpectedly pretty it is. 

The size sinks in a quick second later. 

You can’t tell with perfect accuracy how many inches he is, but you’re pretty damn sure he’s big. That’s meant to fit inside of you?

No, no—that’s a consideration for another day. Right now you need to stop staring like an idiot. You glance up at his face, and he’s sporting a cocky little half-smile which lets you know you’ve been caught. Motherfucker he’s so hot. It’s unnerving. 

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” he asks politely, quite obviously containing his amusement. But you can’t summon a sufficiently sarcastic response. 

Your voice comes so soft when you reply, “you’re pretty.”

Spencer melts, eyes impossibly softening. 

“Pretty?” His smile is earnest now. He strokes your cheek and you can’t not lean into his touch. 

“Mhm. I want to, um…” your lips twist to the side as you look back down, finding he’s not gotten less intimidating since you last checked. “But what if I’m bad at it?” you whisper. He chuckles, brushing hair over your shoulder.  

“It’s kind of a hard thing to be bad at. And I’m gonna help you, okay?”

It’s the honesty with which he speaks to you that makes you feel so safe. There are no hidden intentions or words that seem to mean one thing but really mean another. Spencer wants you as a person more than he wants you as a body and that’s been clear since the first time he touched you. You take a deep breath. 

“Okay. What do I do?”

“First, you’re gonna spit in your hand.”

You look up, alarmed. 

“You want me to intentionally get my spit on you? Is that not your worst nightmare?”

“Believe it or not, I’m not super worried about yours,” he teases. “But if you’d prefer, I can spit in your hand.”

“Actually, mine is fine,” you laugh nervously. 

Hesitantly, you do as instructed, even though it seems frankly bizarre. 

“Good. Now just wrap your hand around it, like this.” His voice is quiet, focused as he guides your hand downward. Your heart rate ticks up again as he encourages you to wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He feels much warmer than you’d expected—his skin is silken beneath your touch but he’s undeniably hard and that sort of eliminates any sense of him being fragile from the equation. 

“It’s gonna be less sensitive down here—and then, up here—” he slides your hand back up, covering your thumb with his own and swiping it just below the head of his cock on the underside. He hisses and you look up in fascination. “That’s the most sensitive part.”

Without further instruction, you do it again, keeping your touch light and watching his face for a reaction. His drawn brows twitch, furrowing deeper for a second, and his lips part. A heavy exhalation passes between them and quickly builds into a breathy laugh. 

“What?” you murmur, over-eager to please and very nervous to do something wrong. 

“Nothing. Just feels good, that’s all.”

“Don’t laugh,” you pout. Of course that makes him laugh again, and he leans forward to kiss your head. 

“I’m laughing at myself, angel. I’m a grown man fighting for my life from a handjob that you’ve barely started. I knew it would be different with you but I didn’t realize it would be this different.”

Heat rises in your cheeks and you look away. 

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying,” he urges, grabbing your free hand and encouraging you to uncurl your fingers. His thumb traces circles in your open palm, before capturing your entire hand in his. “Do you feel how much softer your hand is than mine?”

You frown, attempting to feel whatever it is that he’s pointing out. Despite the fact that you think he has very nice hands, you realize he’s right. By no means would you say that they’re rough, but you can tell where his gun normally sits in his hands, where his fountain pen rubs against his fingers. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Anything you do is going to be perfect because it’s you.”

Spencer drops his hand to your leg, rubbing it soothingly. The other moves to cover yours—the one wrapped around him. 

“You’re gonna help me, right?” you ask quietly. Some adventurous part of you is very excited about this as an experiment—fascinated by the reactions you’ve already gotten from him and eager to push it. 

“I am. Little bit tighter, honey. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

You do as you’re told, and he’s murmuring more praise—slowly encouraging you to begin moving your hand with his own. A shaky exhale catches your attention, drawing your gaze to his face. His eyes are, of course, cast downward, but his expression is hypnotizing. Those lips remain slightly parted, and suddenly you wonder if he makes noises like you do. In that moment it becomes your life’s mission to find out. 

For a while you continue letting his hand guide your movements, but he keeps things so slow for your sake that you’re getting impatient. You forgo his direction, picking up the pace but trying to keep the rhythm he’d instilled in the motion. His hand slackens around yours. 

“Fuck,” he hisses to himself. The hand on your thigh rubs achingly deeper into the flesh. “Angel, what are you doing?”

“I want it to feel good.” Suddenly shy again, you slow down. His hips stutter, which you think may be a sign that it was working. “Am I—was that bad?” Spencer looses a breath, looking almost… frustrated?

“No, I’m just—I’m weirdly close to coming.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Well,” he mutters, “not usually. Mostly it’s embarrassing.”

You giggle, a release of some tension, and begin pumping your hand again. His breath hitches and he finally looks up at you, meeting your eyes with his own lust-glazed ones. Heat pools deep between your legs. 

“I want you to come,” you admit quietly as you twist your wrist, brushing that spot underneath the head of his cock again. His jaw literally drops, and a look that is part confusion, part pleasure, twists his features. You see the surprise sparkling in his eyes and it only spurs you to keep talking. “I’ve never seen how you look when you do, but I’ve imagined it. I bet you look so pretty when you come, Spencer. ‘Nd then I would know that I can make you feel good, too.”

“You… you are making me feel good,” he assures you. The way his brow furrows and his  lips are parted give you a feeling that’s entirely new. Normally, you’re the one falling apart under his touch—but when it’s the other way around there’s a whole new kind of pleasure in it for you. You feel kind of powerful. Maybe even close to confident. 

“Really? I’m not this quiet when you touch me.”

“I’ve ha—ah—had more practice not making noise.”

“But why?” you implore, ignoring the fact that he’s slept with other women and enjoyed the sounds they made, and opting to brush your thumb across that extra sensitive part he definitely shouldn’t have told you about. His hips buck up and he hisses, which is immensely gratifying to you. 

“Because I like to listen.”

“What if I do, too?”

In a moment of divine inspiration , you cover the tip of his cock with your hand, swirling beads of pre-come over your palm. Spencer moans and his hips jut up into your grip. It’s a beautiful sound, just as you’d hoped. 

“Jesus, fuck.”

You understand why he seems to enjoy touching you so much. It’s so rewarding to watch as his breathing picks up and pleasure contorts his face—to watch him get messier and messier and lose his composure a bit more with each stroke of your hand. It’s so simple but Spencer looks at you like you’re exercising some arcane deviant power over him and he’s not sure he should be enjoying it as much as he is. 

Distantly you think about how it felt when he had his hands on you—and then, in clearer focus, how it felt when he went down on you. Both were perfect, but something about his lips so gentle on the most intimate, vulnerable part of you had felt like ascension. Maybe it was the emotional component, or maybe it just felt fucking good. Regardless, it seems an irresistible thought. 

You keep stroking him until his head is lolling on the back of the couch as he groans.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah, baby?”

He sounds so destroyed it makes you clench around nothing. Without any indication that you’re going to do so, you stop touching him, and the speed with which he lifts his head again is almost comical. Immediately, while he’s utterly defenseless and desperate, you ask, “can I use my mouth?” 

His eyes widen, and then shut, as he processes your request with a tiny shake of his head—probably trying to clear the haze of pleasure from his mind before he answers. 

“Honey,” he rasps eventually, opening his eyes and smoothing a hand over your hair, “you don’t have to do that just because I do. That’s not why I do it.”

“But I want to,” you murmur, shy and mildly embarrassed by what feels almost like a soft rejection. “I don’t think I could do anything, like, mind-blowing, but… I want to try.”

Your face is hot by the end of the sentence, and you can’t meet Spencer’s eyes as his fingers twitch over your hip. A quiet moment passes—but it’s short-lived.

“Okay. Go ahead, baby.”

Wide eyes dart up to his. 

“Really?”

Spencer smiles fondly, brushing an invisible speck from your cheek. 

“I don’t think I’m capable of turning that offer down. Not when it’s you.”

“Okay—um, should I just—” Spencer watches on, finding your sudden enthusiasm completely adorable as you scoot off of his lap and gingerly kneel in front of him. Your eyes are big and glassy as you look up at him, hands set politely on his knees. You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between his face and his cock, now about as hard as it’s ever been due to your toying. He knows it’s probably intimidating for a girl who has never seen one in real life, and he feels kind of bad about it. You do terrible, wonderful things to him that he doesn’t understand. “Wow. So... it looks bigger from down here.”

“Please don’t try to choke yourself,” he instructs hurriedly, leaning forward slightly. “I really don’t need you to do that. It’s fine if you can’t fit it all, I just—” he exhales shakily. Spencer is most definitely strong-willed but he can’t pretend like the sight of you on your knees for him, inches from his aching cock for the first time isn’t impacting his cognition. Most importantly he doesn’t want to make you feel pressured. He’s trying to not let how badly he wants this show in case you change your mind. 

Spencer watches as you psych yourself out—wilting like a thirsty flower. 

“But what if I’m bad at this?” you mumble, hands curling into loose fists atop his legs. Spencer pushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears. 

“What’s your worst case scenario?” he asks. Your answer is immediate. 

“That I’m so bad you make me stop halfway through.”

Spencer can’t help but laugh again. 

“I’m sorry—I just… honey, you are really underestimating how profound your effect is on me. I just almost came from a minute long handjob. I can assure you that I won’t make you stop halfway through because I’d rather not have your mouth on me. That is… that’s just not going to happen.”

You lean your cheek against his thigh. He might actually pass away. 

“Will you tell me if I’m doing something wrong?”

“Honestly, as long as you don’t bite, you’re in the clear.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and your lips pull into an embarrassed little smile. 

“Great. Thank you for that invaluable advice.”

“Of course,” he smiles. It fades slowly as you take a deep breath and look up at him, obviously steeling yourself, before leaning forward and taking him in your hand again. He watches with bated breath, repeating no sudden movements to himself over and over as your hand moves up and down a few more times and your head lowers. 

You delicately, so lightly trace your tongue from the base of his swollen cock to just underneath the leaking tip, mapping a vein, and his hips buck as you take him into your mouth experimentally. Only the first few inches fit but the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the way you’re looking at him is so unbelievably erotic Spencer knows he won’t last very long.

From a purely technical perspective—he knows he’s gotten objectively better head. Still, something about the way you’re so delicate with him, so soft and timid in the way you lick and kiss and take him into your mouth has him fighting not to come already. Maybe it’s wrong, but knowing that he’s watching you do this for the first time in your life is obscenely arousing. The idea that you’ve never trusted another person this much; that you’re letting him be the one to help you navigate something as new and as important as sexuality. The more he thinks about it, though, the more he realizes: it’s not your inexperience that turns him on. It’s just you. Everything you do is so undeniably you—he recognizes your mannerisms in every tiny motion, in every glance, and it’s killing him. You’re like a dream as you look up at him with big nervous eyes, (no, really, he has had this dream) and he remembers he wants to be reassuring you—not pondering life and human connection. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, groaning and hips twitching as your cheeks hollow, wrapping his achingly hard cock in soft gentle warmth so sweetly it feels taboo. “So good, baby. So gorgeous like this.”

You whine around him, receptive as always to his obsequious praise, and he notices the way your hips wiggle as you seek friction. God, you must like this a lot. Spencer gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, resting his hand on your head as you begin to bob it. That, he wasn’t prepared for. He’d have been satisfied with just kitten-licks and suckling but he won’t complain about this. It’s slow, and so intentional as you keep watching him for feedback cues. Ever his observant girl, you’re constantly paying attention. Aware of his reactions. He needs to keep telling you you’re good or else you’ll assume you’re terrible. 

“Over-achiever,” he whispers through a little smile as you down even more of him. 

Spencer is for the most part a kind and gentle person. For better or worse he is also a man, and he can’t help but fantasize about getting you all teary and drooly as he holds your mouth open and sees how much of his cock he can push down your throat. But again—kind. Gentle. So when you get a little over-zealous, attempting to sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure, he pulls your head back slightly. “That’s far enough, angel. That’s—fuck. God, you’re good at this.” The words are thoughtless, muttered to himself more than you as he watches through a haze while you look up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes, slipping him in and out of your warm mouth, a little faster now as you gain confidence. 

You whine desperately around him, like you’re the one nearing orgasm and not him. The sound of your pleasure as you suck his cock makes him dizzy. His hips buck, pressing him a little deeper into your mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he exhales. “Slow down, baby. I’m—” a louder moan from him like you’ve never heard as he thrusts shallowly turns you on profoundly. He’s so much more vocal than you’d have imagined—sonically and verbally. He breathes out a quick, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” pulling your hair slightly, and you’ve never wanted to touch yourself more but you know you can’t focus on both. Instead you work on making him come—you can worry about you later. He says your name, with an authoritative edge to his tone that makes you throb. “Honey, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come—”

You swirl your tongue around the top of him like candy and he’s done for. Spencer tries to pull out, which only results in cum both in your mouth and on your face. The orgasm is his strongest in recent memory, and he grunts, watching your lips part and a little squeak escape as he comes all over your face—but you keep stroking him all the while. Once he’s 90% sure it’s over, he falls against the back of the couch, breathing heavily and looking down at you through hazy eyes. Oh, he’s going to feel terrible about this in a few seconds—but right now you look fucking perfect. Your eyes are wide, nervous as his essence drips over your face and down your neck—he groans when you swallow cautiously, averting his eyes to the ceiling lest he do another thing he regrets. 

“Baby, I am so sorry,” he mutters, forcibly clearing the haze of orgasm from his mind and sitting up, fixing his pants and looking around before locating the box of tissues on the side table. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” You look up at him attentively as he wipes himself from your face as gently as he can. 

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t ask you first. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Spencer guides your head around by your chin, wiping your jaw and lips. 

“It’s okay, Spence, I—”

“No, it’s not,” he cuts you off, trying to at least turn his guilt into a learning experience for you. He’s not deluded enough to think someone like you will stay with someone like him forever, because sometimes he does things like that, and he’s reminded that there are certainly people out there more deserving of you. At the very least he can clarify that nobody should ever do what he just did to you. “It’s really not nice to do that to someone.”

“Do you care what I think at all?”

Spencer freezes, finally forcing himself to look you in the eye. Despite the fact that he’s mad at himself, he’s sure it’s coming across as being directed at you. And he knows you’re sensitive, especially about this kind of thing. 

“Of course, I do, baby. I’m sorry. Do you want to come back up here with me and tell me what you’re thinking?” he murmurs, cupping your jaw. Hesitantly you nod. The tissues end up on the table—which he will be thoroughlywiping down later—before you crawl back into his lap from the floor. Spencer helps you settle against him, hoping he hasn’t messed this up irreversibly. He keeps his voice quiet as he rubs your leg. “What were you going to say?”

“I was going to say,” you begin, “that it’s fine, because you’ll remember to ask next time. And because… I kind of liked it. I like when—when you do stuff like that.”

It’s a miracle he can hear you with the way your voice drops into an almost-whisper and you’re hiding against his shirt. 

“Like what?” he murmurs. Although he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle the answer. 

“Like… I don’t know. Like you can do whatever you want to me. Like I’m literally yours.” Each word makes you cringe further, but Spencer has to try hard to maintain a cool facade as he processes this. If he’s going to try and be chivalrous, you’ll have to move away from this topic—this revelation—immediately. Thankfully, you seem eager to move on. “So… how did I do?”

He almost laughs. It seems exceedingly obvious how you did, but as per usual, you require verbal reassurance. 

“That was really good, baby. You did well.”

You blossom. 

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie.”

“Was I the best girl out of all of the other girls?” 

I wasn’t in love with any of the other girls. 

Just barely, he manages to stop himself from saying it, pinwheeling his arms on the edge of a very steep verbal cliff. The realization that he’s been in love with you for a while hits him like a truck. But he can’t tell you that right now. He should wait until you’re less vulnerable.

Fuck. 

He really wants to tell you right now. 

“Actually—don’t answer that,” you decide, while all of this happens in his head in less than a few seconds. “I want to go back to pretending I’m the only girl you’ve ever seen in your life.”

“You’re the only one that matters,” he offers, relieved to express at least some portion of the much bigger truth. Then he frowns. “Not that the other women I’ve met don’t lead important lives. I actually know a lot of incredibly influential and intelligent people who are women. I have deep respect for all of them. Am I helping or making it worse?” he rambles. You giggle. He has his answer. “What about you? How do you feel?” he asks after a moment, tenderly, lowly, stroking your hair as you lean against his chest. 

It takes you a moment to deliberate, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. 

“I feel good. I, um… liked it a lot more than I would have thought.”

“Well, that’s good. Much better than if you had hated every second of it.”

You hum in agreement, and he waits for you to say whatever you’re holding back. It comes sooner than he’d have anticipated. 

“I feel bad about the times before. How did you just… go to sleep after? Were you not, like—insanely turned on? Not that I’m, like, irresistibly sexy, or whatever—you know what I mean.”

Spencer smiles because he knows you can’t see him. 

“I wasn’t doing it to pressure you into feeling obligated to reciprocate, I guess. My line of reasoning was that it would be less intimidating if I didn’t even present it as an option until you wanted to try.”

“Oh.”

Spencer thinks he sees where this is going. 

“Why?” he asks, leaning back and encouraging you to look at him. “Are you insanely turned on?”

“Wh—that’s—I didn’t say that!”

Spencer can feel how warm your cheeks are as he presses his lips to the side of your face. 

“You can tell me if you are,” he murmurs, all smiley as he moves to kiss your lips. “If you want something, you need to ask for it. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Yes you are,” you grumble. “That’s literally what behavioral analysis is.”

Not quite true, but surprisingly, he doesn’t feel the need to explain to you the semantics of what he does for work right now. 

“What got you all excited?”

“You know what,” you mumble, trying to look away again. Spencer doesn’t allow it this time, gently grabbing your jaw. 

“Yes, I do. But I want you to tell me. If you want me to make you feel good, this is how you’re going to convince me that you deserve it.”

You whine wordlessly, looking at him with those big, lust-glazed eyes.

“You wanted me to teach you how to use your words, right? This is it. I’m giving you an opportunity. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. Maybe we can take a nap, like you said earlier.”

“No! I liked—um, I liked all of it. I didn’t know if I would, because I was really nervous. But when I first—you know—and you got all quiet… it was like you couldn’t even talk for a minute. I was kind of proud of that. Because normally nobody can ever get you to stop talking.” Spencer narrows his eyes incredulously, a small smile tugging at his lips. But he doesn’t interrupt—not when it seems you’re finally starting to get more confident in your words. “And I really liked the noises you made. I think that was my favorite part. I liked when you pulled my hair back, and how you spoke to me. And when… when you got me messy and I had to swallow it. I really liked how it felt because I couldn’t think of anything else, just making you feel good. I really wanted to… make you proud, I guess. Is that weird?”

Spencer shakes his head no, a fond smile on his face when your eyes meet his again. 

“No. It’s a pretty normal thing to feel when you’re nervous and wanting to impress someone you care about. And I would have been proud no matter what, for the record. You were being very brave.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, watching him expectantly. Spencer should have known you’re too needy to truly absorb anything he says to you right now. Which is actually pretty cute. Everything you do is endearing to him. 

“Stand up.”

You frown. 

“But—”

“Just stand up,” he demands calmly, preferring to think of himself as firm and not bossy. 

You do, looking rather annoyed and confused as you plant yourself in front of him. 

“Why?”

“You are so full of questions.” His hands slip up the side of your legs, under your skirt, and hook in the waistband of your underwear. Spencer looks up at you meaningfully and you nod, swallowing. 

As he pulls down, Spencer can literally feel the resistance of the fabric clinging to your soaked core. Under his touch the skin of your thighs is warm and soft. He wants to feel it on either side of his face, he wants to hear you whine as his stubble rubs against it, he wants to feel it clamp around his wrist, he wants it between his teeth and he definitely wants it pressing against his hips as he—

But no. 

There will be time for all of those things—especially the last one—later. For now, he’ll reach between your legs just to see—

“Oh, my god,” Spencer half-chuckles, half-groans, upon feeling how wet you truly are for him. He drags his knuckles from your dripping entrance up over your clit, pinching very lightly and earning a squeak from you which he ignores. “You really did like having your mouth full of me, huh?”

“I told you,” you breathe, visibly relaxing some as he continues to play with you for a moment. Then he pulls his hand away again, patting his thigh. 

“Sit.”

“You want me to…”

“Yes,” he says, simply. 

“But is it not going to… am I not going to mess up your pants?”

“You are even more neurotic about messiness than I am. I can wash them, honey. Come here.”

Spencer guides your hips over his thigh, watching your pretty face twist with uncertainty as you fully settle on him. Fuck, he can feel your warmth through the fabric instantly. Already he’s getting hard again. 

“What am I supposed to do?” you whisper, bunching his shirt in your fists. Spencer slides your skirt up higher, revealing the way you’re nestled against his thigh. He spreads you a little further apart, exposing more of your clit to the material underneath you. Immediately you press against him—he watches the delicate flesh rubbing gingerly against him and  his grip tightens ever so slightly. 

“All you have to do is rock back and forth. It’s easy.”

Already you’re starting to do it—but he guesses it’s like earlier where you don’t even realize it’s happening. 

“But… I wanted your mouth,” you admit, quietly, slinging your arms around his neck and burying your face there. 

“Do this for me first. Just get yourself off like this one time and then you can have my mouth. You said you wanted to help me feel better because I’m tired today, right?

“Yes,” you mumble, squirming over him. 

“Well, there are a lot of days when I get back home and I’m tired. I’m gonna need you to be able to get on top of me, just like this, and make me feel better. And I know you don’t know what it feels like to have something that deep inside of you yet, but it’s gonna be a lot. Even once you know how it feels to have me inside when you’re underneath me. I need you to practice for me right now so you’ll be ready, okay?”

You could come from the words alone. You nod, dazed with need as you roll your hips in a circle, pressing his thigh against your clit. 

“Back and forth, baby,” he murmurs, guiding your hips forward with his hands locked around them. “Back and forth, just like this…”

You moan quietly, shamelessly, eyes fluttering as you look down and watch your clit dragging over the darkening fabric. It’s easier if you isolate your hips, grinding down without moving your legs or upper body at all. 

“It feels really good,” you whisper under your quickening breath. 

“Yeah? Does it?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, angel. You look like you know what you’re doing.”

It’s audible now, quiet and wet and dirty. 

“I don’t,” you breathe. He sucks in a breath of his own, stilling your hips with fingers pressed deep into your flesh. 

“Sit up, baby.” You really wish he would stop making you stop, but you don’t want to keep going in case he needs you to quit—so you rise slowly, thighs trembling as you kneel. Spencer groans at the strings of your arousal momentarily connecting your core to his pants before they snap, getting your inner thighs wet. There’s a dark, very wet patch over his thigh, shining like glass. He thumbs over your slick clit absentmindedly as he looks up at you like you’re a miracle. “You’re fucking soaked. I’ve never seen you like this. Is this all from making me come?”

You nod feverishly, hips grinding against nothing in search of friction. He sits you back down on his leg, allowing you to sloppily find your rhythm again. Spencer bounces his leg lightly and you cry out softly, buckling forward. His arms wrap around you, still pressing you down against his thigh as you rut against it. 

“You’re sweet. Maybe I should have known how much you’d like it when I came all over your pretty face. You really like hearing that you did a good job, huh? I bet you like it even more when I prove it to you.”

You moan a “yeah,” barely processing his words. 

“My good girl even swallowed on her first try. Took it so well. And now look at how you’re taking this. You’re gonna love riding, baby. Just going to be another thing you’re good at as soon as you try it.”

“Spencer,” you gasp, overwhelmed by the praise. He’s bouncing his leg at regular intervals and everything is so sensitive.

“I know it’s harder to finish this way, but just one time, remember? And then you can have my tongue for as long as you want. You are my only plan for the day. Just give me one like this.”

But it’s not really harder to finish this way. Then again, you’re so turned on you could probably finish if a breeze hit you just right. Regardless, the thought of him going down on you again pushes you even closer to the edge.

You don’t know how much time goes by like that, you rubbing against him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, him pressing up into you until the pressure is so taut it snaps. There’s no time to warn him, but you suppose you don’t really need to. You writhe against him, caught between wanting to keep going and not being able to take more stimulation. He lifts you up just slightly, trying to separate you from his leg. You exhale deeply as your body relaxes, already close to dozing off against his chest.

“We can’t have you tapping out just yet. I still have to fulfill my end of the deal.”

In the end, he fulfills it three times over, and you end up showing your appreciation in kind one more time—much slower and more comfortably in his bed. He gives you plenty of time to learn what he likes, taking your teasing and coquettish explorations like a champ and never so much as tightening his grip in your hair. Turns out, you don't exactly spend the day doing nothing.

And you do end up taking that nap after all. Just... much, much later. And with less clothing on.

-

part 3.5

[echstacy00]

LATE NIGHTS: nicholas alexander chavez

18+smut!!!

(completely obsessed with his side profile can you tell?)

[12;45am]

“your nose is so pretty."

you find yourself mumbling at your boyfriend before your brain can even overthink those words and yet you're glad you didn't hesitate.

there's absolutely no reaction from nicholas for a whole minute as you absentmindedly trace his sharp features with your fingers, not quite able to handle just how handsome he is.

you've been observing his side profile for a while now and every time your eyes found their way to his nose, you couldn't help but bite your bottom lip at the mental image of its tip nudging against your clit whenever he's got his face buried in your cunt.

nicholas has been trying to memorize his new script for about an hour now and despite wanting to give him some space, you simply couldn't resist the craving of being close to him.

it's not like he minds your presence at all; nicholas loves having your legs in his lap and your hand in his hair, playing with the soft beautifully light brownish strands as he enjoys his daily screen time away from all of his incone responsibilities.

usually you're quick to fall asleep, yet this time you seem to focused on him to even let the actual thought of sleep cross your mind.

you know it's because you can't stop thinking about your boyfriends lips, his hot tongue and his perfect nose, your head full of thoughts about how good he makes you cum over and over again once he's gotten a taste.

whereas nicholas remains absolutely clueless. he's also a little too focused to pay complete attention to your words but he does appreciate any compliment coming from your way. ever since the two of you started dating you've made it your mission to remind him how perfect he is

nicholas places a quick kiss of gratitude into your palm before he pushes his lips into a thoughtful pout and focuses on the littered papers in front of him again, not realising how much you've been pressing your thighs together in hope of releasing some of the pressure on your needy cunt

there's just something about the way he scratches the sides of his nose whenever he's slowly turning to the next page, poking the inside of his cheeks with his tongue and nibbling on his lip like he's purposely trying to torture you.

"babe." you mumble sternly and reach for his hand, grateful he's quick to play into your neediness as he grabs your inner thigh and gently strokes your skin,

"i wanna ride your face, please."

usually you're not one to be this bold with your requests but after watching him for the past hour it's been incredibly hard for you to maintain your composure and even your patience has limits.

nicholas is absolutely stunned at your words. for a second he's not sure if he even heard you right, giving you a double take just to realise your current state.

eyes glossy, lips pushed into the cutest pout, thigh firmly pressed together and your cute nipples poking through the fabric of your pyjama shirt to the point where not a single thought is left to imagination.

just out of curiosity nicholas lets his hand wander in between your legs, gulping harshly at the way they fall apart like you've been waiting to be relieved and once his fingers graze your soaked panties, he knows exactly why you're reacting the way you do.

without even missing another beat, nicholas throws his controller as well as his headset to the side, turning his game off and almost instantly laying on his side of the bed.

"I'm sorry for not realizing sooner, baby", he whispers as you shakily make your way to straddle his handsome face, his cheeks and lips tinted in the sweetest shade of pink, "there you go, baby."

his praise elicits a soft whimper from your throat, your hole clenching in absolute despair and the second the tip of his nose grazes your flesh, you throw your head back with a loud moan of relief.

"fuck, baby", nicholas grunts against your cunt, his tongue lapping up your sweet juices and if it wasn't for his tight grip on your waist, you would have thought he passed

out, "you're so wet for me, angel, so perfect." all you can do is whimper in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and grinding yourself against his tongue, whining every time his nose nudges your hardened clit.

"you're so wet for me, angel, so perfect."

all you can do is whimper in response, grabbing a fistful of his soft hair and grinding yourself against his tongue, whining every time his nose nudges your hardened clit.

"that's why you love my nose so much, hm?", nicholas smile turns into a smirk as he pushes his tongue inside of your clenching hole, groaning and moaning against your wet flesh like a man gone mad.

"mhm, y-yes", you whisper and feel the sweet wave of your release climbing up your spine in the sweetest way possible. "love sitting on it."

and for a moment nicholas movements stop, as he appreciates your sweet compliment, head cloudy from all the arousal floading his brain and his cheeks burning from excitement.

"that's my good girl", he grunts and finally wraps his lips around your sensitive clit before he pushes the tip of his tongue against the nub and applies just the right amount of pressure, making sure to have you cum all over his face to make you feel as loved and appreciated as he does.

 genesisxc 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[mikgreo]

BLLK BOYS! + “tits, boobs, or thighs?”

18+ slight nsfw, fluff.

ft. isagi, sae, aiku, reo, nagi, shidou.

a/n: im having blue lock brainrot and i cant escape them. YES, i had to write each one individually😊 kinda biased on reo.. hes my fav<3

MIGHT DO A PT. 2!!

➩ YOICHI ISAGI thighs.

he likes to think of himself as a gentleman, so he fears that staring at your ass or tits would make you uncomfortable. but from past experiences and from what hes seen, hes picked up that girls love having hands on their thighs. he loves resting his hands on your thighs and giving them an occasional squeeze. he doesnt care if your skinny, chubby, or overweight, he loves them, as much as he loves you.

“huh? honey, why are you asking me that, haha.” he scratches the back of his head, “if i had to be honest, i’d say your thighs, i love how squishy they are.”

he says as he kissed your cheek and hugged you tight, “i love you no matter what, baby <3.”

➩ ITOSHI SAE ass.

sae loves buying you expensive dresses, he likes bringing you to the fancy dinners or parties his co-workers invite him to. he loves the way the tight dresses he buys you complement your body and curves. he has you close by at all times and is very possessive of you, he finds himself holding you under his “wing” and putting his hands on your waist. he knows what he has and isnt scared to show it off, but he also knows youll be facing him the whole time, so he likes to show off his girl.

“hm. probably yer ass.” he said having the same nonchalant look on his face. “i like having those old geezers have something, they wish they could get, to look at. makes em reaal jealous. makes me the best for having such a beauty by my side.”

“i like showing off my trophies.”

➩ OLIVER AIKU tits.

aiku has a guilty pleasure of sucking on your boobs, he denies having a mommy kink, but he thinks it would be so fucking hot getting you pregnant and sucking milk out of your tits. hes not picky, but he prefers bigger boobs, he likes laying his head on them also, while fondling them.

“i hate to admit, but i fuckin’ love your tits, babe.” he looks up at you while he has his head on your chest.

“they’re jus so damn squishy and round, they sit so pretty, luv.”

➩ MIKAGE REO thighs.

growing up around money and wealthy people, the rich women he would encounter had always had some sort of plastic surgery/ procedure done, which he hated. he wanted a woman who had natural beauty, and a naturally beautiful personality to go with that. so when he met you, he fell in love, of course he couldn’t immediately act on it, not only fearing his parents disapprovement but he was scared that you would only like him for his money. but you guys hit it off just fine (a/n: i will prob write a fic ab this later, teehee.) present time, he is so inlove with you, he likes that you have natural features, of course paying no mind that you wear makeup or not, he loves you for you. he likes your thighs because its the only thing he knows a woman cant change about herself, he likes the naturalness that comes with them.

“Well, i love your thighs baby.. probably because i love laying on them, and i love how warm they are. so comfy too.” he kisses the top of your head.

“.. and cus i know thats the only thing you cant change about yourself so they’re mine forever<3.”

➩ SEISHIRO NAGI tits.

why? cus he likes the erocticness of them. (a/n: is that a word??) hes seen many video games with big busted women, so he’s always found them attractive, nagi also thinks its too much of a hassle to focus on anything else on the body, naturally boobs are the most prominent feature on a girls body, they easily stand out. so he just went with that. he personally likes to lay on them, alot. nagi would prefer smaller chested girls, mainly because he thinks theyre adorable, he would definitely belittle you because of it, since he is so used to seeing women with big boobs, he thinks small ones are less overwhelming, but cute.

“mm, probs yer boobs. i like the way they feel, like stress balls, i like that theyre not big, but not too small. theyre just right for me. theyre cute.”

he definitely was confused on why you were blushing but also mad at him. no girl wants her boyfriend to tell her she has a small chest!!!

➩ RYUSEI SHIDOU ass.

shidou loves slapping your ass. in public? hes gripping it. private? cupping it. around his friends? slapping it. there will never be a time where hes not doing something with your butt. this man is a sucker for doggy, and backshots, o how he loves them. he definitely makes u do reverse cowgirl as well. definitely unironically says “gyat” to you..

will eat ur butt. will do anal. hes that freaky..

“you seriously asking me dis? obviously yer fucking butt dude i love it, i could go onnn and on about how soft and jiggly it is. level 5 gyat mama.” he winked at you turning around, crouching down to get something from the fridge. you sprinted over to him just to slap his butt for revenge.. he did not like that. lets just say u wont he walking anytime soon!!

[mingtinys]

" you should rest "

pairing : choi seungcheol x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : language

word count : 0.5 k

a/n : super super excited to be doing this little mini-series starting off with seungcheol !!

You're rudely awoken from your slumber by the slamming of brakes and Seungcheol throwing curses at the car in front of him. Your seat belt stops your momentum, though you can't say the same about your poor suitcases and bags in the back seat that tumble forward with a violent thud.

"Fucking idiot," he mutters, then looks over to you with a complete change of expression. "Are you okay?" He's still got his arm extended over your chest like a mother.

"I'm okay, are you?"

"Yeah," he sighs, letting his arm drop from its protective position in favor of resting his hand on your inner thigh. He squeezes ever so lightly in an attempt to ground himself. "Asshole cut me off and then slammed his brakes. I'm sorry to wake you."

You hum, reaching out to brush back his bangs from his eyes. A fond smile lights up his features at the gesture. "S'okay. How much longer do we have left?"

"About an hour or so."

An hour!?

"Cheol!" You scold, shuffling to sit up in your seat. "You were supposed to wake me up an hour ago to switch off!"

If there was only an hour left that meant he'd been driving for nearly three already. You only meant to nap during his half of the drive to your parents' house then you would finish the rest so he could get some sleep. You even made him promise about three times over to wake you up, but it seems that went unheard.

He just shrugs and steals a glance at you, that signature pout playing at his lips. "I don't mind. Besides, you've seemed stressed lately, I figured you could use the extra rest."

Admittedly, the extra shut-eye was pretty nice. But still, you wish he would've woken you. "I appreciate it, but I'll feel guilty if you take the whole drive. Pull over and we'll switch off for the last bit."

Stubborn as always, Seungcheol shakes his head. "I'll take care of everything, you should rest." There's honestly no arguing with him over stuff like this. So you just sigh and grumble about conquering the trip back on your own to make up for it. Seungcheol just chuckles at your dissent. "You're too cute."

You curl up in your seat once more, turning so you can admire glare at your boyfriend who's a little too happy with himself. He notices, and the way his lips crack into a smile is irritatingly adorable. Seungcheol reaches his arm to the back, fishing out his coat that had been buried under your multitude of travel bags. Placing it over your legs, he steals another lingering glance.

"You're not forgiven yet, I'm still mad at you." It's probably the least threading sentence you've ever uttered in your life. Your voice sounds whiney, even to you, and that really makes Seungcheol laugh.

"I know, baby. Sweet dreams."

[oukabarsburgblr]

Hi! Love your work! I dont know if your requests are open but Id love to see more of your Haikyuu work! Loved the the recent one and i just cant stop rereading it.

I wonder what would happen if reader was hit on by one of the other volleyball players before/after the matches. I just wanna see the three boys get jealous and protective honestly hahahd ofc if you dont want to write this its okay too! ( Ps. I also love ur Daisuke one, i love him hes so cute 🥰🥺 cant wait to see more of ur work )

drabble...aftermath of Karasuno

taglist : @ayuxiru @tehyunnie @rainnyydaysworld @webwanderer

i stopped working on my haikyuu fics bc i started s4 and i could NOT see atsumus face HAHHAHH idky i HATE HIM ARGH/jk. We love Daisuke in this household. Can anyone tell Daichi is my favourite? HAHA

this will be the last one for the crows CAW CAW

harassed, dark in general

Find out more under the cut!

[SCENARIOS LOADING...]

Another team harasses the manager!

[START SCENE]

"Hey! Karasuno's manager! Don't make such an ugly face."

A certain (h/c) frowned, being cornered by tall volleyball players from other schools. He had just went to retrieve the paper rosters from the organizers for their current tournaments at the Sendai Gymnasium where Preliminaries are being held when he was stopped by students from other schools.

"You look like you don't have a lot on your hands right now. Why don't you come with us? Free some tension...you probably need it." A hand grasped (m/n)'s shoulders to which the (h/c) swatted it away. "Don't touch me." He hissed as he tried to move past them but another shoved him back against the walls, them moving closer to the manager.

"Hey hey. We're all friends here, right?" Hissing in pain as the hand lodged in his shoulder pressed his nails further, crinkling his black jumpsuit. "Listen here, fucker. I don't know what household you grew up in, but go ride someone else's dick. Better yet, why don't you go suck each other off? Since you're so desperate for some action."

(m/n) spat, his foul mouth and his temper wasn't a good combination but it was the right mixture for this situation. He pushed the players' arm and was ready to leave until his hair was clenched painfully.

A yelp from (m/n) and the ringleader of the group pulled his face close. "Nice face but a repulsive tongue...damn and I thought we could do this nicely. We'll find a use for your mouth soon." "Let go, asshole-"

Fuck, who do they think they are? The only one grabbing my hair is usually-

"I suggest you let him go."

A heavy voice uttered from behind them, catching the attention of the group. Asahi clasped the hand that seized (m/n)'s head. "Before I break your wrist." He muttered with a death glare, the light in his eyes gone.

"Fuck! Is he the coach or something?!" One of them whispered, scanning his mature features. Someone grasped (m/n)'s hand, pulling him away from the group. "Learn how to take a hint when someone says they don't like you." Sugawara pushed the manager behind him.

"Or go die in some random dump, you trash."

He stated blandly, his voice losing any cheery tone he would always carry. How ironic. (m/n) could never be more glad that the third years were here, clenching the papers in his hand. He felt someone gently pull his bicep.

"Go." Daichi muttered. "The team's around the corner. Go see Kiyoko for..." He brushed (m/n)'s head, where his hair was tousled.

The only one who would usually, or rather the only one, grabbing (m/n)'s head, tugging his hair, digging their nails into his scalp was Daichi Sawamura.

The (h/c) didn't think twice to leave the scene, not leaving a glance to the yelling players who had harassed him, Daichi particularly approaching the one who had pulled (m/n)'s hair.

-

He didn't want to be here anymore, (m/n) lazily draped himself across the railings. Only one manager was allowed on the benches so he and Yachi had to sit up in the audience' seats but he asked for some alone time from Yachi, her concerned about him after hearing that he was disturbed by a team from another school earlier.

Hinata had jumped up and about when (m/n) returned to their team, demanding to know who had hurt his friend and Kiyoko checked his scalp, making sure nothing was broken and everything was fine. Tanaka was adamant on being a good senior and wanting to avenge his manager so he went to help the third years who were confronting the aggressors but immediately retreated, staying quiet when Ennoshita asked what they were up to.

The games started and the first match went well, battling up against a two meter player. Daichi didn't speak to him yet. (m/n) noticed a bruise forming on Asahi's jaw and Sugawara only smiled at him quietly.

Second game came around and (m/n) held back a flight of curses from his mouth when the team Karasuno had to play against were the same players who had cornered him earlier, their captain glaring holes into Daichi. He noticed a few of them were missing, specifically the bitchy ringleader.

"Hey, (m/n). Thought you'd be down there this time."

Oikawa approached his cousin, leaning onto the railings in a similar fashion to the (h/c). "I guess all third years in your team is staying huh." He poked (m/n). "Yeah." He mumbled. "Looks like yours too."

(e/c) glanced at the Seijoh team that were currently watching over Karasuno's briefing by their coach. He noticed a new player. Someone that has a tennis ball for a head.

"Well, we're gonna beat Shiratorizawa this year. I'm gonna show Ushiwaka who's boss." "You say that at every game." The setter slapped (m/n)'s back, the latter yelping and smacking his laughing cousin. "So gloomy and for what? Your team seems to be energetic-...well they're playing more aggressive than usual."

Asahi slammed the ball set by Kageyama, earning a point as the libero was unable to receive the spinning ball. The ace looked furious, his eyebrows furrowing as he asked Kageyama for a faster set. Sugawara was itching to get on the court, pacing around, warming his legs up so he could be ready when he had a chance to play. Daichi was silent, his usual words of affirmation to the team gone. Only Tanaka and Nishinoya cheering when they won a point.

"We're going to win. Against them at least." Daichi muttered, his eyes gazing up at (m/n) when Coach Ukai took a timeout and asked what was wrong and why their play styles had differ today.

(m/n) stared back but quickly looked away when he felt butterflies in his stomach. He couldn't tell what those insects were trying to tell him. Daichi had warmed his bed a lot for the past month, even his parents assumed he was his boyfriend by how often he had came over to his house.

Karasuno won a fast game. Two sets straight, 25 - 17 and 25 - 13. The last set where all the third years were deployed went by quick, Asahi shining as the MVP.

"Well, that's my cue. I wonder when we'd play against you, it'd be any different." "....It will." Oikawa raised an eyebrow. "Thought you'd support me this time. Given how your team lost on our last match." "But they'll win."

(m/n) peered at Oikawa, from the corner of his eyes. "My team will win beating yours, Tooru." The setter only stared down at the manager with a smirk.

"What's with the change of heart?" "..."

He didn't reply, only getting up to greet the team as he stood in the hallways, letting Hinata crash into him. Sugawara pulled the middle blocker off of him. "Now now. Stop causing trouble or Takeda-sensei won't let us watch the other teams play." They were done for the day and as requested by Kageyama, they went to see Seijoh's match.

Sugawara held (m/n) behind however, letting the team go first as they stood in an isolated staircase. He ran his fingers through (h/c) hair, his eyes squinting at the manager as he smiled reassuringly. "I hope you're alright, (m/n). We beat them for you. Those idiots. People who have nothing else to do but lay their waste on innocents like you."

The (h/c) hummed uneasily, leaning his head on the setter's shoulders and his fingers clutching onto the latter's jersey. "I didn't mean to talk to them. They cornered me." "I know, I know." Sugawara cooed, his other hand caressing (m/n)'s back.

A similar but earlier incident had happened, whereas a student confessed to the (h/c), who declined but Hinata excitedly told the team and Sugawara had an outburst in private, accusing (m/n) of cheating behind their backs despite them having no declaration, only taming (m/n) into their current relationship.

"Did I ever scare you? You look at me like I'm going to snap your neck at any second." The setter teased, his hand trailing over (s/c) neck, his fingertips pressing onto (m/n)'s Adam's apple. "No. You wouldn't." That was a bluff.

He had learned that Sugawara had the most violent tantrums out of the three. Paranoid, spiralling about what (m/n) does when he wasn't around. The (h/c) had learned what to say, what to do overtime, to ease the third year.

Said third year smiled at him. "If anyone ever approaches you, like earlier, scream our names okay." He always made sure to include Daichi and Asahi. "Remember, you're our favourite."

He winked at the (h/c) who didn't give much of a reaction, only hugging the setter. Was there any difference between those assholes and the third years in Karasuno? Both of those groups forced him, into these uneasy situations, Karasuno taking a longer approach.

Crows tend to build their nests with meticulous resolve, choosing the right twigs and taking the softest materials for the lining. Karasuno did live up to their name, (m/n) completely accepting his predicament, laying in the den Daichi, Sugawara and Asahi had woven for him.

Sugawara pulled (m/n)'s face up, smiling at him before pressing his lips to the (h/c) who opened his mouth when the setter swiped his tongue on his lips. "Let me hear you, (m/n)." The setter muttered as he pressed his wet muscle against (m/n)'s caressing his palate and pressing their bodies closer.

"Mmnff ahh! N-Not here Suga- ahk!" (m/n) choked when he felt a hand cupping his crotch, his breath shaky and coming out in stutters as he pushed Sugawara's chest. His cheeks were hot and he clenched his fist on Suga's jersey.

"Hahaha is it because we're in public? You'd be much more in trouble with Asahi then." The setter pulled away, letting (m/n) breathe as he dragged him up the stairs and they stepped into the auditorium seating. "Go. You owe me a date for this." He kissed the (h/c)'s forehead before pushing him to the row where Asahi and Daichi were.

The setter walked past them, opting to sit beside the second years, distracting them when they asked where was the manager. Said manager stood nervously, Asahi and Daichi silent, both of them sat in the furthest behind row, whereas everyone was sitting close to the railings to watch the games.

Usually (m/n) had no problem conversing with them, the third years constantly talking first but here they are staying silent. "...Good game." He referred to the two sets they stole from those assholes.

The captain didn't even look at him, only staring into space with a frown on his face. Asahi spared him a glance before beckoning the (h/c) to sit next to him. But as he was about to sit, the brunette pulled his arm, making him land in Asahi's lap instead.

"Huh? What are you-" He was silenced by Daichi's glance, his heart racing as Asahi adjusted him, placing him directly on top his crotch. "Sorry, (m/n)." The ace buried his face into the (h/c)'s shoulders. "Let me borrow you for a bit."

Here? In public? Where anyone could see him being used like a fucking-

His hands shook as he tried to peel himself off Asahi, but the latter only tightened his hold, crushing his waist with his muscular arms. "I'm sorry." The brunette mumbled apologies and (m/n) could feel his erection pressing up against his pants. He prayed the others wouldn't turn around. Daichi didn't move a finger, (m/n) couldn't read his face as he hopelessly squirmed in Asahi's lap.

He's going to see. He's going to look at me and see me like this.

His heart was beating fast, the ace still breathing heavily behind him and grinding his bottom on him. Daichi still didn't give any reaction. (m/n) felt his heartstrings pulled as the captain didn't give a damn of what was happening to him. Unintentionally, he glorified- favoured? Treasured the ravenette the most, the one who always seemed so distant from him yet was so close and quick to clog his throat-

Tears welled up in his (e/c) eyes as he turned his face away when he saw Tsukishima glanced at him from the corner of his sight. He genuinely prayed that no one else would see him in this shameful state.

Asahi stopped bucking his hips when a high pitched heave escaped from the (h/c)'s throat, (m/n) holding in a sob as he carved his nails into the ace's arm. "Shh...it's fine. No one saw anything. They just think you're sitting on me." He whispered into the manager's ear who shook his head. Tsukishima saw him and he was one of the smart ones. The rest of Karasuno hadn't seen but what about the other teams? Strangers who might pass by their rows. He hated how his three seniors didn't give a damn about his pride.

Asahi didn't make himself obvious, he just wanted to loose some steam is all. In the end, he did use (m/n) like those harassers did albeit tamer than expected but the intentions were there nonetheless. (m/n) whimpered endlessly as he was placed to sit on the cushioned seat in the same one as the ace, still with Asahi seated close behind him. (s/c) hands trembled as he peered at the captain who cruelly ignored him the entire time.

A tear slipped down his cheek as Asahi cooed at him, apologising and kissing his ears while rubbing his waist. Ensuring the (h/c) that he didn't even got off or anything as he whispered sweet nothings with his apparent boner pressing against (m/n)'s back. The manager was much more prone to crying when they were in public.

His hands hugged Azumane's as he leaned back into the ace's body, his attempt to hide his figure as he pulled on the ace's black jacket. "Hic- you're so fucking- mean to me." (m/n) whined as Asahi peppered kisses all over his face, his stubble scratching against his skin.

"I won't do it again." The ace muttered, placing his chin on the manager's head. (m/n) peered up and noticed the forming bruise. His fingers went to delicately trace them. "I knocked his teeth out." Asahi mumbled.

"Would've done more if their manager hadn't come running." (m/n) flinched when he heard Daichi utter. The first he spoke around the (h/c) after the whole harassment he suffered.

Coarse rough fingers covered his eyesight, a fingertip pressing against his right eye lightly, brushing his lashes and the ace placed his face down where (m/n) had his hair violently tugged. "Tell me if you want him to lose more."

(m/n) didn't say anything, only nodding as he let the ace touch his body, caressing his chest and inhaling his scent. He didn't feel bad for the attackers at all. They dug their own grave for being assholes.

He caught Daichi staring at him, the captain still facing straight but his eyes gazed into the (h/c)'s face as he slowly returned his focus back onto Seijoh's match.

(m/n) managed to pull himself off of the ace when the games were over and Karasuno was preparing to leave. He made sure he avoided Tsukishima, not wanting to answer any of his probing questions. He had went ahead to wash the water bottles at a pipe when he heard footsteps behind him.

He looked behind him to see Daichi with the bottle carrier, the captain picking up the clean ones and placing it in its stations while (m/n) finished up the last one. A rare act of kindness from the captain to the (h/c). "Are there any others left?" (m/n) shook his head to Daichi's question.

The captain staring at him with dead eyes and (m/n) noticed the small blot of red on the edge of his knuckles. He didn't say anything, carefully pulling Daichi's hand and placing it under the tap, letting the water flow and washing the ravenette's hand.

Said ravenette stared down at him with his usual silence. At times like this, (m/n) could never tell what the captain was thinking. Was he observing on what he would do? No. Daichi was too confident in his...work. Of what he made of (m/n) (l/n).

Maybe he expected it. (s/c) fingers rubbed the knuckles, ridding the smell of blood and dirt as Daichi stood directly behind the manager. "Did they hurt you?" The manager shook his head again. "I'm fine. They didn't do much."

He could feel eyes boring into the back of his head, the captain glaring holes at the part where they pulled (m/n)'s hair. "It's good for you to know."

Know what? The manager wanted to ask but opted to stay quiet instead. He could feel Daichi leaning into his (h/c) hair, them letting the faucet run under their intertwined hands.

"No one else can hurt you." (m/n) carefully turned his head around and found black eyes staring down at him. "Not Suga and not even Asahi..." The captain muttered, his other hand gripping the manager's jaw, the latter letting out a small gasp.

"Only me. And it will stay that way as long as I'm here." He muttered, leaning so close to (m/n)'s face, the other baring a blank expression, knowing and not daring to show any sign of fear.

"Be aware and be good....I'll take care of you."

The (h/c) nodded, the grip on his jaw loosened and suddenly he was enclosed with a kiss. Daichi pressed against the manager and bit his lower lip, prompting moans as (m/n) shakily wrapped his arms around the captain's neck, his knees weak.

Both of them leaned against the sink and there was a faint sound of an ambulance siren that could barely be heard over the shaky gasps and lustful moans the manager spilled from his throat. It was wrong to love your abuser. (m/n) wouldn't call it love.

He would never care for someone like Daichi.

But he couldn't leave. There was no option for someone like him, he could only embrace and lay in the nest the third years made for him. A good first year to embrace their devilish intent.

[END SCENE]

I planned like a smut scene where daichi fucks him but im tired of writing smut tbh. Like i need inspo. But if u didnt notice daichis hand was bloodied bc he did sumth to the harassers which is why theres an ambulance in the last part.

Someone requested a sick scenario where reader gets sick and third years feel bad for him but tbh they wouldnt feel bad. Its just more of an excuse to fuck him over and ill give a very SIMPLE drabble for that bc ive delayed this way for too long

[SCENARIOS LOADING...]

(m/n) falls sick and the third years takes good care of him!

[START SCENE]

"Mmhhaa mmngg ahnn!"

(m/n) cried as he clutched onto Asahi's gakuran, his back against the wall and his legs wrapped around the ace's waist. The brunette's cock deep in him as they hid in an isolated bathroom stall, the third year pulling him in before classes were starting.

It was the norm for him. And he thought his body could adjust but he wouldn't notice he was slowly falling apart with how frequent the third years was using him for a quick fuck.

"T-Too fast! Ahn! Mmmn ahn ah ah!" His legs were shaking as Sugawara held his hips as he pounded his ass, the setter biting onto the manager's bare shoulder. The setter had whisked (m/n) away during their lunch break, him pulling the first year into the empty clubroom and bent him over the table to fuck his ass. He laughed when he found out Asahi had gotten to him first.

Daichi rarely took him during school hours or even school grounds for that matter. It was always the other two filling his ass up or suffocating his throat.

(m/n) choked as his head was pushed deeper into Asahi's crotch, his body naked as he sucked and licked at the dick while Sugawara was behind him shotgunning his bottom while grinding onto his naked butt. Saliva and precum was dripping onto the gym closet floor.

Sugawara always hold the keys and he'd use it as an excuse to stay behind, forcing (m/n) to help just for him to push him onto his knees and forced his cock into his mouth.

The manager knew his body wasn't feeling well that day. Seven rounds of sex in 8 hours was a record for him and a threesome in the mix? He went home sick and woke up with a sore throat and a burning fever.

(m/n) didn't go to school and he was glad he got to recover in his own bed but his mother suddenly barged in saying that his friends and his boyfriend were there to see him. The third years had neutral expressions when they entered his room, Sugawara easily conversing with his mother as she left the room, leaving her son alone with the monsters.

"I can't believe you actually got sick. I thought you were faking it so you could avoid me today." Sugawara grinned, sitting on the edge of (m/n)'s bed and placing his hand on the manager's forehead, pulling away and pulling out a fever plaster to paste it on the manager.

"I told you he was sick. He could barely stand when we were walking home and you thought he was faking it? You're scary, Sugawara." Asahi muttered to which the setter snapped back at him and they both argued over who had pushed (m/n) too far on yesterday's events.

Daichi ignored the two as he walked over to the bed, (m/n) could barely open his eyes, his skin hot and his head aching. He felt a hand pulling down his blanket and someone pushing his shirt up. A cold wet palm laid flat on his belly. The (h/c) squirmed but embraced the cool, his chest heaved up and down with slow breaths.

"Get better. Soon." The captain ordered. His dark eyes staring blankly at the manager. Sugawara turned to (m/n) and placed a kiss on his cheek. "You heard the captain." "Make sure to stay away from Suga."

The setter continued to yell at the ace, moving off of the bed and Daichi took the opportunity to take his place, his eyes now locking with (e/c) as he brushed his hand against (m/n)'s cheek fondly. "...I'll take care of you. I said I would." The ravenette muttered, the hand he had washed earlier trailing from his stomach to his chest, his hand under (m/n)'s shirt.

Daichi would only take him in his bed, in his room at nights after practice. Now, he was sick and laying in said bed with the captain looming over him, his eyes scanning his weak features.

(m/n) couldn't do a thing, letting the third year care for his sick body. They would come over after practice bringing homecooked meals they would make at Daichi's house. Sugawara often cleaned his body, using a wet towel to cool his warm limbs or helping him into his shower where he would- this made the manager's mom became more fond of the third years, letting them into her son's room at any time she was especially too busy to check in on her precious child.

The manager knew they were some sick fucks but he didn't expect them to go that far truly. Sometimes they would grope him, offering a quickie while mocking him by bouncing the (h/c) on their lap but Daichi was quick to stop them, especially Sugawara who was a bit too happy that (m/n) was weak in his hands, too frail to push away.

Asahi didn't do much, only going through the (h/c)'s belongings, digging through photo albums and taking some of his more personal article of clothings. Stupid pervert. He didn't even bother hiding it too. Daichi would force them to leave when it was almost midnight, him staying over and sleeping on a spare futon.

He was so attentive to the (h/c)'s needs, making sure he took his medicine and eating the required nutrition he needed. He kept his promise and (m/n) was able to recover in three days, returning to school after being deemed well enough by the captain.

Oddly enough, Sugawara and Asahi didn't pounce on him the second they met. Only ruffling his hair or hugging him and saying they were glad to see him well before leaving him alone. (m/n) thought that they finally got their senses knocked into them.

Until night arrived and (m/n)'s mother made a fatal decision to allow Daichi to check her son for another time.

"D-Daichi! I c-can't- urmff! Mmngghaa- ackk!" One of his legs were being held up as he laid on his side, his mouth full with fingers and his hole throbbing around the thick dick shoved inside him. The ravenette slowly rolled his hips, feeling (m/n) tighten around him as the manager shot cum from his penis onto the bedsheets.

He loved when the (h/c) would come on his cock, fluttering walls around his base was pleasure as he quickly thrusted into the overstimulated first year, (m/n) drooling and choking on Daichi's coarse fingers.

"Three days. You have three days to compensate." Rounds of sex to reimburse the captain. Not for the care he provided. It was just more of a reason for Daichi to fill his hole and he had warned the other two not to approach him, wanting to have his ass all to himself for the next few days.

(m/n) let the captain use his hole, his body to fulfill his lust. He wasn't sick any longer and Daichi had promised to take care of him. He could only hope the ravenette doesn't have any plans to stay around him for the long-term. Excluding the fact that they were neighbours.

[END SCENE]

I just love daichi so much rahhh. Going to see the movie next week. Remember this is the last one for karasuno so dont request for this team any longer lovies💋 If karasuno was intense just imagine the power play with shiratorizawa MUAHAHAHHAHA

[regardtheinnocent]

Ororon x male reader who is delighted with his little ears and wings?? This emo boy is too cute, and what if reader abuses his cute features during sex.I am sure that he will blush a lot from such attention! I love him too much. 😔

Contains: Dom!GN!Reader, Sub!Ororon, Lots of position changing 😅, Teasing (character receiving), Penetration (character receiving), reader has a cock/strap on, Ororon being a cutie pie, safeword exists but isn't referenced *note: I love him too, I fear that I'm a sucker for emo & bat characters haha.

Your hands drift to fondle Ororon's soft ears as they often do. You gently press your thumb, pointer and middle fingers together and begin rubbing them, finding it amusing that the poor farmer instantly quieted down.

"These ears of your's are sooo soft, love. I could pet them all day." You hum to him, choosing to ignore the current predicament that you were both in.

What was said predicament?

Well, you were buried deep in the poor thing, much too deep— he might add. You had him all sprawled out on your bed, his marked up and shaking thighs thrown over your shoulders.

Ororon swore his eyes rolled back slightly when you leaned forward to get a better angle to touch his ears. The sudden shift in movement made you press so much deeper, your tip felt like it was bullying his prostate at this point.

A weak squeal left the man's lips he tried his very best to shy away from your touch.

Not that you let him, of course.

No, you just had to move one of your hands down to his waist and hold him still. Fuck, Ororon was seeing stars.

"Mm.. God, pl—please [Name], you don't need to touch— Ah! them.." The farmer slurred back as he tried to keep his eyes open as best he could.

"Too deep— hngh ugh.." Ororon whined as you moved yet again. It was cute that the little bat was acting so shy all of a sudden.

Though, Ororon's wings flapped uselessly at his sides, prompting you to move your hand from his waist to hold onto one of them.

Gently, naturally. You didn't want to hurt him, after all.

"Its so hard not to though, sweetheart. And these wings that are fluttering around are just too tempting.." You reply as a slight smirk adorns your lips.

Ororon just shakes his head as he attempts at keeping his embarrassingly needy moans at bay. Which he fails at.

Then, you begin to move your hips again. You pull out halfway before pushing back in, watching as your baby goes cross eyed in an instant.

"You've been too chatty, angel. I must not be doing my job good enough, hmm?" You tease as Ororon manages to weakly kick at your back with his heels.

It was involuntary, really. He was just too stimulated and didn't know what to do.

When you left his ears alone for a moment, the farmer breathed a sigh of relief— only for said breath to turn into a squeal when you take his legs in your hands and fold him in half.

Though, once you've got him bent nicely, you only bother to use a single hand to hold both of his calves together.

You were doing an amazing job at bullying the poor thing with your body, watching him fall apart as you grabbed one of his wings.

"Nooo— Hnghh- ah! S'too muchh..." Ororon slurs out in a whiny voice as his mind melted more and more.

You gave his bat wing a gentle tug in response. You, of course, make sure not to be too rough when doing so.

Though, it was rough enough for the farmer to arch his back as cum shot out of his cock without warning. He let out his loudest squeal yet, which was really quite embarrassing in pitch.

Oh... his face is so pretty when he comes. It always is.

You paused for a moment, before a nice smile spread across your face. You weren't done with Ororon yet, not when you'd just made him finish from a wing tug. Oh no no no.

Instead, you flip him on his tummy for easier access to his pretty wings.

"Whu— [Name]-! I just caAAH—" You interrupt your darling mid sentence by promptly gripping both of his wings by the base and using them for leverage to fuck back into his hole.

All poor Ororon can do is claw and grab at the pillows and sheets in a desperate but vain attempt to ground himself.

You snap your hips forward over and over again as you feel your lover tighten around you. Its like he wants to keep you inside, how adorable.

Ororon can feel the burn of overstimulation settling in quite quickly, after all you're fucking him like an animal.

Though, he can only sob into the pillows as he feels the coil in his tummy tighten again, getting ready to snap again.

"Ple— Please!" Ororon all but begs as his cock rubs against the sheets, giving him more feelings that he can't handle.

"You can cum again, can't you, baby? Yeah.. you can do it." You coo back in a jarringly soothing voice, one that made the poor thing want to relax despite everything.

So he simply nods into the pillows as you continue plowing him from behind, and eventually, he shoots another load right against the previously soiled sheets.

"Goodd boy..." You groan as you tug on his wings, getting him to let out a few more spirts of cum before finally letting him rest.

You pull out slowly and your hands switch to tenderly rubbing over the bases of the farmer's wings, easing the soreness that would likely form in the coming hours.

"You did so good for me." You murmur and Ororon responds with a weak purr.

[ophanym]

tumblr desktop has bells. BELLS. eight little bells you can jingle with your mouse or number keys. no purpose other than being cute little christmas bells. there are tears in my eyes who coded this feature and why