#The sex would not be soft tho like don’t get me wrong | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nereidprinc3ss · 7 months ago

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do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

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18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him.

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye.

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign.

You look at it.

And then you set your phone down.

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness.

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside.

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes.

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment.

He looks good. Almost too good.

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek.

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head.

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him.

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully.

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.”

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek.

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best.

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body.

You cover his hand with your own.

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion.

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies.

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks.

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense.

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this.

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy.

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel.

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm.

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him.

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you.

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly.

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds.

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no.

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful.

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly.

“Yes, please.”

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting.

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine.

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it.

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for.

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings.

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present.

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing.

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster.

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem.

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest.

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place.

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand.

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair.

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him.

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful.

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again.

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you.

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame.

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you.

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul.

“Spencer?”

“Hm?”

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin.

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential.

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands.

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind.

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK.

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake.

He knows.

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity.

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like.

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before.

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it?

Maybe you have it all wrong.

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you.

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick.

24 hours go by.

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up.

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure.

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off.

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking.

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep.

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed.

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone.

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said.

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room.

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while.

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs.

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones.

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble.

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no.

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly.

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence.

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans.

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure. After a pause, he sighs in defeat.

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown.

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless.

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up.

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones. It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic.

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand.

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket.

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter.

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges.

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it.

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it.

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer.

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing.

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?”

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you.

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?”

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that.

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before.

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft.

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest.

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows.

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts.

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning.

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration.

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous.

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them.

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit.

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice.

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making.

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now.

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that.

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers.

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute.

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base.

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut.

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock.

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.”

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk.

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump.

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment.

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry.

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!”

He knows.

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist.

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding.

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease.

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more.

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone.

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide.

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else.

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you.

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here.

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength.

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?”

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink.

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous.

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue.

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared.

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out.

“You regret your first time?”

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does.

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash.

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins.

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same.

You want to scream bloody murder.

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse.

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence.

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back.

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me.

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later.

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was.

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help.

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does.

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound.

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more.

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right.

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here.

“Goodnight.”

part five

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

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bainutwater85 · 5 months ago

Note

can i get nsfw headcanons about any naruto characters? your choice !!

characters: gaara, kiba, kakashi, shikamaru

cw: cum, anal, vibrators, dick sizes, fem reader with fem parts

a/n: hope u enjoy! also i’m writing for them during the time naruto and hinata got married (?) i know they were like 19-23 or 24

GAARA !

when you two are alone: he likes when you lay on him n he rubs your back inching his way down to you ass, rubbing it and kneading it in his hands.

twerk on this man, give him a lap dance i swear to god he won’t be disappointed by anything you shake. his eyes will be wide and he’ll have the biggest smile on his face, if y’all are drunk and doing this then you’ll definitely be fucking wherever you are at. Most likely will come in his pants..

his balls are tight and full, not big but average size for his age. Loves when you just lay next to him and invade his space then slipping a hand in his pants to massage his balls; especially when he’s cramping there to.

he’s not much of a sex guy but definitely prefers dry humping over the real dick in the ass thing, if yknow what i mean. you 2 just get the grind on..slow and sensual. & by dry humping— he’s not humping you like a wild animal, just dragging his boner across your leg/thigh. You do the same..just without ur panties (^_^)

Don’t get me wrong..he’ll have sex and release his load in you or on you a few times— he just has a..in between sex drive (?) basically: sex isn’t always on his mind unless you propose to it and if he’s having a rough day (which is almost everyday & barely resorts to sex to get relaxed) anywayss. With that being said i really feel like he likes to take sex slow so your foreplay will last about 15-20 mins and another 20 while he’s kissing every crack and creavice of your body.

⤴︎ i also feel like he’s big into role play. Like yes, i’ll be the princess and you’ll be the evil big bad wizard that needs my love and touch. Or yes you can be the UPS guy and i can be the mom of 2 college and highschool kids during the summer waiting for my dildo to arrive because me and my husband divorced a few months ago

he don’t lick pussy he SUCKS pussy. he don’t give you fast kitten licks he will head straight for the clit and suck on it like a pacifier and rub it when he’s done.

his cum has an easy flow and isn’t too thick but he spurts out a lot. Also average size with an average girth, 6.4 inches at best🙌🏾

KIBA !

biggg ash, GIRTH && LENGTH WISE. i’d say 6.6 at least. n he lovesss it when you whine and tell him it don’t or won’t fit & try to push him back a bit by his abdomen or run. just for him to grab you by the hips/waist and start pounding into you

unlike gaara he will dive in and lick your pussy clean. sorry not sorry, he has no pussy eating technique and does what he saw a man do on a porno he seen when he 12 years old. yeahhhp

why fuck one hole when you can fuck 3? we all say in usion. He’s an anal god & prefers the butthole than the vagina or mouth.

speaking of mouth..he likes a little teeth on his cock, not a lot tho😗 cause it “tickles” he says.

Guys..he does not have breeder balls..i’m sorry :(. They aren’t small they just aren’t as big but they don’t sag either..they’re TIGHT. tight like if he was to go soft rn his ball sacks would be a futon for his penis

also has bad ball cramps and whines so much when you can’t or won’t help him with it. But “its fine” he says, just don’t beg for any dick post- shark week 😒. && to top it all off he is a MASTER MASTURBATER. when he got with you he stopped watching porn and used his imagination with you being the the source of material.

sleeps bare butt ass naked with his balls all out jus free ballin like we’re in the paleoithic age💀

ass eater ass eaterr. he don’t care if you ain’t shower this morning he wants to go in and down. He’s a free and wild man when it comes to sex, LITERALLY.

whines the most and hates to admit it but he just can’t help how tight you are. Like you wrap around him just right and it makes him come on the spot sometimes

they don’t mind a bush or fuzzy peach. But kiba is the one to cry when you shave or get a wax down there 😗 the others don’t mind if it’s hairy, a little hair never hurt them and plus “we grown” kakashi, kiba and SHIKAMARU say in harmony 😭

+ all of the character listed above

KAKASHI !

always and i mean alwaysss has to have a hand on your ass and tits. it’s not even in a horny or sexual way— he just wants to squeeze and feel the squish of your body. Unknowingly massages them to and you don’t even point it out, then he’s moving his hand looking down at your nipple like “why is it hard?” man you just gave top tier massage that could clear migraines and cramps.

his dick is big and he knows ittt. Sitting on his lap is enough for his dick to go in ‘up mode’ he will nottt back down or let YOU back down when you tease him and try to leave him by hiself with a hardon, no ma’am..you’re gonna finish what you started.

never fully gets naked when you two are having sex. his shirt is off, pants down and his dick coming out the deisgined hole of his boxers. Your bra over your tits and panties pulled to the side.

he lives in the country and rural era of konoha so yes you suck his dick and he eats you out on his back patio, what about it?

doesn’t want you having any dildos, he doesnt know why it makes him so upset you need a FAKE cock to make you cum when you have him. The only sex toys he’ll allow is a vibrator and butt plug. Speaking of vibrators, he so fascinated by the way your plump pussy lips move when you use it😫

preps you all the time, you two could’ve been fucking since the day you got together, he’s still gonna prep you either way cause mans is BIG. he’s more of a shower than grower tho 😗

6.7in when soft and 7inch hard. His girth isn’t wide..it’s more on the skinny side but he reaches places better with the size and length. Once you cried so hard and almost reached your breaking point when his thrust kept getting deeper and slower cause he was hitting the entrance to your cervix and lord was it painful yet pleasing at once.

his balls are average but they sag, not low but they got some weight to em on the inside 😭

SHIKAMARU !

wants to makes movies with you and has made movies with you. But it’s premium tho so only you and him only see it.

always and i mean alwayssss has a hand in your panties or on your thigh. You two would be chillin in the living room, the floor or in the bed (most of the times the bed) and he’ll just sneak his through and just rub your clit. he doesn’t finger you just rubs you slowly, occupied with his phone and your pussy while he’s just strolling through social media and getting you off all at once.

fav position is most likely doggystyle. Why? because if you both are getting your freak on and wanting to watch something..you can do both.

lazy sex..need i say more? he’s got you laying on top of him with his dick barely all the way inside you and giving half ass thrusts while you both are half away and naked at the crack of morning

hates pulling out, says it ruins the good feeling when you’re about to cum. Naw sweetie he just wants to be a dad of a cheerleading team. He might wanna be one and done or 2 kids but the way he cums inside of you..😗 it says otherwise. he doesn’t even pull out till you guys wake up, and if he did so you can go pee and get it out your system— he’s gonna ease way back in and go to bed like that 😭

another sagger and shower but not a grower. He’s average, length and girth. 6.6 hard and 6.6 soft. It’s just limpy yknow?.

also sleeps naked well semi-naked. but you? oh he makes you strip down to your socks and earrings. he wants you skinned down to the toess. He only sleeps in a bare of boxers and time out time he uses rhat as his advantage. won’t even take them off to pull his dick out. he either slips it through the hole of his pants or over the hem of the boxers. Somtimes doesn’t even take it out himself and gets you to do it by grinding it agaisnt you or pulling you closer to it.

cums a lot and cums whenever and wherever tbh. on your face in your mouth, wipes it off for you tho. One thing he lovessss to do is slap his tip on your lips or cheeks he just loves slapping his cock all over your face anyways

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luvrgreyy · 1 month ago

Text

WHAT GOOD IS SORRY?

ex husband!leon x f!reader

word count: 3.3k summary: why does one wound those they love so deeply? masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

18+ MDNI. mentions of divorce, cheating/infidelity, awkward leon stuff, guilt, yearning, leon and reader have a child together — and i named her denise for whatever reason, getting stood up by a date, drunk texting, kissing, oral(r!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, bittersweet ending(?) i guess.

a/n: old wip,, this was supposed to be super gut wrenching and angsty but for some reason, my brain didn’t want to cooperate and decided that this would be the ending. also, i’ve been contemplating whether to address this or not and even tho its not a big issue, PLEASE interact with my posts. it’s the only way i’m able to know that you guys actually like the stuff i write, and ever since i’ve started writing on here 7 months ago, i’ve been noticing a decrease in interactions. im honestly losing motivation to write because i truly don’t know if people actually read my shit and like it. anyway, enjoy my mediocre writing ^___^

leon regrets everything he’s done up to this point. running into ada on a mission, going to the bar with her afterwards, and the kiss. the stupid kiss that eventually led up to this.

the divorce.

it all felt wrong, so wrong. yet here he was, driving his car to your doorstep, his stomach in knots despite having done this several times before.

for the sake of your daughter, the two of you had decided that shared custody would be the best option.

he stands at the door, hesitating before knocking, his knuckles hovering anxiously. clearing his throat, he gently raps his knuckles against the door, hoping for an answer. he's already second-guessing himself, wondering if he should have texted or called first.

your door eventually opens, and he's met with a familiar face. you.

you greet him with a civil smile, pressing a kiss into your daughter’s hair before ushering her inside.

he fidgets, adjusting the brim of his leather jacket nervously as he takes in the sight of you.

you reach to shut the door, catching a glimpse of him awkwardly hovering over you porch.

“you okay?”

he tries to find his voice. "yeah, i just, uh... i was just thinking..”

he looks down at his feet, kicking the ground with the side of his scuffed boot, as if trying to buy some time or maybe just willing the floor to swallow him up. when he speaks, his voice is low and sheepish. “when i was— last night, i thought… uh, do- do you remember when.. shit. are you free this weekend?”

”what?” you muse at his question. “leon, i really don’t wanna have this conversation with you again,”

he winces at the rebuff, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as a defensive measure.

leon’s adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard, his ears burning at your words. he looks anywhere but at you, his eyes darting over the porch railing, the foliage, the sky — anywhere but your eyes. oh, those eyes he adored so much.

"no, wait, hear me out,”

"listen..." he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever fallout this might bring, knowing he's already on shaky ground. “i just wanna talk.. to you.”

he shifts his weight, glancing up at the roof of the house as if the heavens themselves could offer a solution. when he does meet your gaze again, his eyes are pleading, his jaw clenched with a mix of anxiety and something akin to desperation.

“i’m sorry, leon. i’m busy,”

he scoffs and his face scrunches up, a pained grimace contorting his features as he cuts you off. “c’mon, please?” he's standing too close now, invading the personal space he once knew so well. “i.. i know it isn’t what we do anymore but—“

“no, seriously. i literally can’t. i have something up.”

“oh.” he deflates slightly at your dismissal, shoulders slumping in defeat. a soft, regretful sigh escapes his parted lips, and his eyes drop, gaze wandering aimlessly. "can- can you can you cancel? is it really important? what about on sunday-? i’m sure we can..“

“leon.” it's not a question this time, you stare at him with the tiniest hint of pity. “i have a date.”

ouch. he freezes, his chest constricting as if he's been punched. a date? the words echo in his mind, each syllable like a dagger to his pride, his ego, his everything. a muscle in his jaw twitches, his hands clenching and unclenching in his pockets. leon swallows hard, his throat suddenly parched.

"oh," he repeats, the sound barely above a whisper. he takes a shaky breath, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him.

he rubs a hand over the back of his neck, jaw working in agitation as he grapples with the blow of your words. a snarky retort rises in his throat, a cutting remark to deflect the sting, but it withers on his tongue, a futile attempt at salvaging pride he knows is misplaced.

leon swallows hard, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally finds his voice, laced with a wry bitterness. “yeah, no worries.. guess that's that," a bitter, hollow chuckle escapes him as he shifts his weight. his tone is flippant, trying to mask the sting of rejection, but the defeat is palpable as he turns to leave. he starts down the porch steps, his boots thudding against the wooden slats.

you finally close the door on him, standing by the door, hand on the knob, unease prickling along you skin like a thousand tiny needles, each one stinging with the weight of guilt. you sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she tries to process her feelings. guilt, regret, a twinge longing — it's all so confusing, so messy.

the weight of his pleading eyes, the desperation in his tone — he had no right acting like a dejected puppy after he cheated on you.

you shake your head, face between your hands. he made his choices, just as you had, and now it was time to move on. you squared your shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped away from the door, determined to let go of the ghost of what was and focus on the life you were building. for you, and your daughter.

but it’s not really easy.

not when you’re sitting alone at a restaurant, waiting for a date that never bothered to show.

your phone buzzes and you hold your breath. hoping for some sort of confirmation, but it's quickly snuffed out.

‘hey, sorry i couldn’t make it. something important came up’ the simple text reads. the same stupid excuse. every. single. time. your heart sinks, a dull ache forming in the pit of your stomach.

a bitter, derisive chuckle escapes your lips. serves you right. you knew he was trouble from the start. yet, your heart aches, a dull throb of pain and disappointment. you feel so foolish, sitting there, waiting for someone who never shows. though, it isn't really new.

now you lay in your bed, having already kicked off your heels and changed out of the uncomfortably tight dress you wore.

you pull the blankets up to your chin, suddenly feeling cold. you toss and turn, brooding and wallowing in misery, and it seemed like you’ve been doing it for hours till you’re startled out of your fitful doze by the buzz of your phone.

it's a text from leon, of course it is. it’s another one of his ‘where are u? i miss u’ ‘can’t stop thinking about you. please let me c u’ meltdowns.

he's drunk again, you can tell by the sloppy caps and the desperate pleas. every time he has a rough night, he always thinks coming over will magically fix everything. and you always refuse, knowing he’s only drunk and alone. but tonight, you feel particularly lonely.

your thumb hovers over the keyboard, and before you know it, you're typing. ‘come over.’ you hesitate, then send the message.

by then, he’s already halfway out the door, stumbling out and nearly falling as he trips over his own feet in his haste. he takes the stairs two at a time, a goofy, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. when he reaches your door, he pounds on it with a fist. his breath comes out in short puffs as he waits, anticipation making his heart race.

click.

the door creaks open a fraction and his eyes lock onto you, looking all soft and domestic in a robe. leon's breath catches in his throat as his eyes drink you in.

he tumbles in, arms outstretched as if he's about to catch something. he's immediately in your space, arms around you in a tight, needy embrace. his face buries itself in the crook of your neck, breathless with relief and something else, something suspiciously like love.

“leon—“ he smashes his mouth against yours, tongue pushing past your lips, the taste of beer and regret in his breath. his hands roam, sliding up your back, gripping your hair, fingers splayed wide as if to assure himself you're real. a low, desperate sound escapes him, half-groan, half-moan as his body presses against yours. he's desperate, sloppy, but undeniably passionate. when he finally breaks for air, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes glassy with drink and longing.

“missed you s’ much, baby,” he presses a kiss to your neck, tongue tracing the pulse point with a reverence that borders worship.

“let me make it up to you, please,” he looks up at you with those big, puppy-dog eyes, an expression so pathetic it’s comical. yet, the desperation behind them makes it anything but.

his hands skim down your sides to your hips, fingers digging in as if to keep you anchored to him. his face buried in the crook of your neck as his hands knead the meat of your ass, claws digging in through the fabric of your robe. his breath hitches as he nuzzles into you, inhaling deeply as if committing you to memory.

he trails a string of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing to nibble on your collarbone before continuing his journey south. his hands never stop moving, roaming over your body with an insatiable hunger.

you let out a soft whimper, arching into his touch. "bedroom," you breathe out, and he happily obliges.

once inside, he kicks the door shut behind him and spins you around, backing you up against the bed. he begins to undo your robe with shaking fingers, your heavy breathing and the rustling of silk the only sounds in the charged silence between you. when the robe falls open, he pushes it off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet.

the thin, sheer fabric of your nightgown offers little resistance as he practically rips it off you. a shaky breath escapes his parted lips as he reaches for you again, fingers grazing your skin as if he's not quite trusting his own touch.

he guides you to the bed, pushing you to sit on the edge. he immediately drops to his knees before you, face between your legs.

“these ‘re pretty,” he slurs out, before he fucking tears your underwear off.

“leon!”

he chuckles at your reaction, a low, rumbling sound in the back of his throat. “sorry,” he murmurs against your inner thigh, his hot breath causing goosebumps to rise in its wake. “gonna buy you new ones,”

his stubble scrapes against your sensitive skin as he slowly trails open-mouthed kisses up your thigh, savoring every inch of you that you’re willing to give him.

he buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking with a single-minded devotion that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back in your head. his scruffy cheeks hollow as he sucks a hickey into the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

god, it’s been so long. the feelings practically foreign.

his tongue begins to lash at your slit, long and flat, with a dexterity that belies his level of inebriation.

“you still mine?” he huffs. “‘course you are, ‘m the only one that can get ya this wet,”

slurp, smack, suck, repeat.

his tongue is relentless, probing your entrance, swirling around your clit with increasing fervor. he's sloppy, uncoordinated, but it only serves to heighten the intensity of it all. every time he pulls back, you can hear his heavy breathing, feel the vibrations of his moans against your most intimate flesh. your fingers thread into his hair, tugging him closer as your back arches off the bed. a keening whimper escapes you, the sound muffled by your clenched teeth as you struggle to maintain some semblance of control.

“fuck, leon—” your words trail off into incoherent mumbles as he drives you closer to the edge, tongue darting in and out with a pace that’ll make a grown woman go crazy. “d-denise, were gonna wake her up,”

a low growl rumbles in his chest as he responds to your whine. there's a hint of accusation in his gaze, but it quickly morphs into a look of raw, desperate need. “don’t matter,” he's relentless, persistent, refusing to back down even as you tremble and writhe beneath him.

he grunts, his attention snapping back to you, blue eyes squinting as he looks up from between your thighs. his tongue is a damn metronome, lapping and smacking with a relentless rhythm that has you chasing the edge of oblivion.

it's like every drunken fantasy he's ever had is being poured out onto you. messy, uncoordinated, desperate. and you’re eating it up. “gonna make you forget all about that stupid date," he mutters through slurred words. "’m the only man who can make you feel this good,"

he's not wrong. the way he's attacking you with his tongue, it's like he's trying to prove a fucking point.

"leon, please," you gasp out, and he takes it as an invitation to continue. your entire body is wound up tight, a taut string ready to snap. he slips a finger in, then two, curling them just right so that they’re pressing against that spongy spot that has you seeing stars.

your legs wrap around his head, fingers threading into his hair as you pull him in as close as humanly possible. his name is a chant on your lips, a prayer to the gods of pleasure. "leon, leon, leon,". denise could come in right now and catch you like this — legs splayed, back arched, eyes squeezed shut in bliss. he's that good. or maybe that bad. you dont know. and you don’t care to find out.

"yeah, just like that," he praises, voice a low, gravelly growl. "love my fingers in this greedy little cunt, don't you?"

your thighs clench around his head, heels digging into his back as you ride out the pleasure. "gonna cum, leon, please—“ yours words trail off into a wail, a keen of pure, unadulterated euphoria.

your back arches, toes curl, and your fingers dig into his hair, holding him to you as the wave crashes over you. he tugs you down to the edge of the bed, practically burying his face in your groin. he laps at your slit, in and out, in and out, until the last bit of resistance melts away.

he lifts his face from between your legs, eyes hazy and unfocused as he fumbles to unbuckle his pants. once he has it off, he's back, pushing your legs apart as he kneels between them. the thick of his length throbs against your lower belly, and you can feel his racing heartbeat through every inch of him that's in contact with you.

he notches the head of his cock at your entrance, pressing in just enough to make you feel the pressure, gathering your juices before giving a long, slow stroke up and down, coating himself in you. he's throbbing, pulsing with need, and you can practically taste the desperation in your mouth.

he presses in, just the tip at first, then a bit more. slow, shallow strokes, in and out. his hips rock against yours, the motion slow and languid. one of his hands cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your closed eyelids to check if he was dreaming. the other hand palms the small of your back, fingers digging in as if to anchor himself. your legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind his back as he slowly sinks into you.

he's quiet for a moment, just holding you, his heart racing in his chest as if he's trying to communicate something without using words. his hips move, the action slow and lazy, as if he's trying to spoon you into submission.

he pulls out, just to the tip, before pushing back in. the motion is slow, sensual, a deliberate teasing that has you whining and writhing beneath him.

sweat beads on his brow, tracing down the lines of his face, but he doesn't slow. if anything, he's driven by a desperate need to make up for lost time, to prove himself worthy of you. your back arches, hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets as he pistons in and out, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body. he's not gentle, not soft, but rough and demanding, just like he always used to be when he was trying to stake his claim.

he nips at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before he sooths it with his tongue. “fuck, feels so good,” he gasps out, his words punctuated by the slap of skin against skin. “can't believe i ever let you go.”

"leon," you whimper, the name a plea, a prayer. his lips find yours in a sloppy, frantic kiss. he's drinking you in, devouring your mouth, your moans, your gasps, trying to consume every ounce of you.

he's sweating, hair a mess, face scrunched up in concentration, but those blue eyes remain locked on yours.

you're lost in the sensation, every nerve ending on high alert, screaming for friction, for relief, for release. "leon, leon, gonna cum," you pant, your voice raw, your throat dry. "please, i—" but your pleas are swallowed by his next thrust, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls.

he leans forward, his forehead pressing against yours, noses nearly touching. his hot breath mingles with yours, the scent of his beer-soaked breath and the musk of his arousal mingling together in the most intoxicating way. "love you," he suddenly whispers, the words a quiet, a desperate confession that hangs in the air between you.

“love you, love you, fuck—“

the way your walls squeeze him when you cum drags his own orgasm from him. for a long moment, he stays frozen, buried to the hilt, his chest heaving against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

the heat of your body seeps into his skin, chasing away the chill of the night air. he collapses against you, a boneless heap of satisfied male. his cock throbs, pulses, and drips onto the bed between your legs as he tries to catch his breath. the room is silent, save for your joint heavy breathing, and the occasional groan as his softening length slips out of you. eventually, he rolls off, lying on his back beside you, one big hand coming to rest on your stomach, thumb stroking in a slow, idle pattern. his eyes are hazy, unfocused, but they find yours and hold. a small, sheepish smile tugs at his lips.

"sorry," he slurs out, the word garbled and slightly off-kilter. "i shoulda been better, should’ve tried harder, i... i‘m gonna make things right, i swear,"

he peppers your neck with soft kisses, his stubble rasping against your tender flesh. he's warm, solid, and comforting. gentle and tender, a stark contrast to the desperation that drove him mere moments ago.

he's not reaching for grand gestures or flowery declarations. he's asking for something simple, intimate, and achingly human. a chance to hold you, to sleep beside you, to maybe, begin to rebuild something from the rubble of what once was.

and for a moment, you let yourself believe that he’ll be different this time. that he's not just trying to relive past glories, but genuinely wants to make amends, to start anew.

tags: @crowleyco @withonly-sweetheart @fanilkychae

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v4mp-reads · 11 months ago

Note

hiii! Can u write Jake Webber being absolutely pussy drunk and then reader giving him so much love it makes him emotional because he’s never been loved so much🫶🏻

Sorry about the wait on this one needed to clear something up

Don’t cry my love.

Jake Webber x Fem! Reader. Fluffy smut!

18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: sex drunk jake! , vs face sitting! praise, use of pet names, p n v, unprotected sex ( use PROTECTION PPL) slight d/s themes, soft dom!jake

Word count:1.5k

—-

Y/ns pov

I was laying in mine and Jake's shared bed waiting on him to finish recording, it was probably twelve am and I could still hear him and Johnnie playing around, it didn't bother me much tho. I scrolled through my phone for a while before Jake fell on the bed beside of me “hi y/n i missed you so much while i was recording, i was thinking that we could cuddle and watch a movie for the rest of the night” he rambled on before i cut him off “come on baby lay down”

He climbed in the bed close to me as I laid my head on his chest. While he was trying to find a movie to turn on, I began to trace over his tattooed arms, this must have turned him on because he slowly shifted his bottom half away from me. I didn't pay much mind to it and I thought he was just trying to get comfortable. We laid there, and watched the movie. I shifted closer to him, throwing my leg over his crotch area, causing him to jump a bit. I could feel his arousal against my leg. I thought it would be fun to see how much I could do before he snapped.

About thirty minutes later, I had moved from using my leg to using my hand to palm him through his sleep shorts, he was letting out soft little moans, they only turned me on more. “Mhmm, my love don't tease” he spoke, I turned to look at him his eyes held a mix of lust and love. “What do you mean? I’m not doing anything wrong” I said softly, “mhmmm, really now, nothing wrong?” He moved me from beside him so that now I was straddling him “now you know better then to play around with me princess” he ran his hand over the thin material of my sleep shorts. “Mhmm, it seemed like you liked it. '' I slowly started rocking my hips to get some form of friction. This was short lived. “No, I want you to completely understand and lay beside me” his voice was soft, yet stern. Causing the warm all too familiar feeling to flood my stomach. I quickly did what he told me, throwing my clothes off to some other part of the room, then returning to lay on the bed.

He slowly climbed over me, taking off his shirt and pants leaving him in just his gray boxers “mhmm. I missed you” I mumbled out softly feeling his hands run up my legs stopping just before he got where I wanted him “please…Jake..please” I begged, that’s all it seemed to take, his hands worked perfectly on my skin, and I softly used his index finger to run slow soft circles around my cilt, causing me to let out a soft moan as I grabbed on to his hair. “Jake..please..I need more” I moved slowly against his finger “mhmmm, I want you to ride my face baby” I moaned at his words before sitting up for him to lay on the bed “ you know what to do baby, I don’t want any of that hovering okay?” I nodded my head “words baby” I put both my knees beside his head “I understand '' I softly lowered myself onto him, instantly letting out a loud moan. He continued to eat me out, his tongue touching every part of my heat, by this point I had started rocking my hips to increase the praise from him. Grabbing a handful of his hair, my moans were loud, mixed with the grown every now and then from Jake. “I-I’m close..Jake please don’t stop” he brought one finger to my very wet hole, softly pushing it in and out “come on baby, cum for me” he went back to eating me out, within moments I felt the knot in my stomach unraveling, he didn’t stop, he continued “Jake- please! Ah” I went to speak but he just pushed another finger into me now curling them, I softly shifted down from his face, so that I could lay on his chest as he continued to finger me. “Jake..I’m close again..” I moaned against his neck, “are you? Is my pretty little girl about to cum for me? Go ahead pretty girl” and with his permission and praise my legs shook and I reached my orgasm again. “Mhmm thank you…thank you so much my love” I stuttered out

I gave myself a few moments. I looked up at him “mhmm baby, can I ride something else” I asked with a smile. He looked at me with a curious expression “what do you mean darling?” I giggled as i pulled him up to a sitting position “mhmm I just want to make you feel good” I trailed my hand from his neck making sure to run my fingers over his newly pierced nipples causing him to let a soft shaky breath, I place small kisses on his neck, trailing down his body before stopping and coming back to kiss him. As we kissed I worked on getting his final layer of clothing off, his dick quickly hitting his stomach “ooo” I cooed at him before once more running my fingers down his chest. “You're so handsome, I don’t know how I won in life to be with you” I told him softly getting closer to his dick. I ran my finger down each and every vein, teasing his tip every now and again watching as he threw his head back in pleasure “mhmm baby.. you like that?” I asked in a almost fake innocence “dont tease y/n” I giggle softly “oh so you would rather me do this? Hmm” I take his dick into my hand pumping it quickly “a-y/n..” he softly lifted his head to look at me “mhmm”

I lifted my self so that I could align him with myself, I lowered myself on this him. He pushed his hips to mine, causing a loud moan to fall from my mouth “Jake, that’s..that’s not fair” I could barely get my words out “let..let me make you feel good please” I asked while moaning. He was always focused on my pleasure, never his own. “Mhmm okay, okay my love” he muttered out as he relaxed against the bed. I quickly bottomed out on him, softly gridding. His hands quickly found my hips as I showed him with praise. “You look so hot, you feel so good” I told him as I quicked myself feeling my own orgasam come closer “mhmmm, Jake, baby im close” i started to lift my hips higher and come back down. I soon reached my orgasm, tho I continued to ride him trough it “mhmm, baby, you just came, you, you can stop” he let out soft moans and I just continued.

He soon got close to his own release I could tell by the way his dick twitched inside of me “close, y/n baby..I’m close” i only rocked my hips faster “im on my pill baby” is all i had to say, he let out another soft moan before finishing inside of me.

We laid there for a bit before I softly moved off him “I’ll get a towel to clean” he went to get up but I softly pushed him down “I’ll taking care tonight” his eyes softened as he nodded. I slowly got up to get things for us to clean up with. It wasn’t long before I climbed back into bed to my Boyfriend “Hi darling” I looked at him with a soft smile “hi my love” he instantly pulled me into a hug. “Baby I need to clean you up” he only shook his head “aww, baby are you a bit pussy drunk? Is that what it is” he only nodded into my neck. We laid there talking about all kinds of things once he finally let me clean him up.

“I love you Jake, I love you so much you have no idea how perfect you are, how funny, and smart, and caring you are” I told him softly “you really think that?” He turned to look at me, I looked at him with a face of almost shock “of course i do darling, look at you, you are so pretty, you care about everyone, you are so funny, so sweet, and you can do some pretty crazy things with those fingers” I giggled at the last part. I looked at him, his eyes full of tears “are you crying?!” I asked “maybe just a little bit” he said pulling me by my waist closer to him. I placed a small kiss on his lips “don’t cry my love”

This took so long to write and literally sucks

Thank you for reading

Xoxo,v4mp-

#jake webber x reader #jake webber #jake webber smut #johnnie guilbert #sam and colby #jake x reader #tara yummy #colby brock smut #sam golbach #Jake Webber x reader smut

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6gumi · 11 months ago

Note

soft, lovey sex w sensitive!yuuji?🤭 no matter how many times you go at it he always stutters and shakes like a virgin :(

nsfw below ! ! minors do not interact plz ! <3 (aged up!yuuji)

nonnie . . u r a genius ! honestly, he’s so so cute ! ! he’s such a cutie whenever it comes 2 sex, especially if it’s his first time :(( i mean, nobody ever told him how good it would feel to have you pulsing and sucking him in so smoothly, how good it would feel to keep a good rhythmic pace with you <3 he’s such a sweetheart, even in bed! he’s softspoken and sweet with you, willing 2 take things slow even tho his cock is painfully pressing against his pants, begging for release. yuuji was still so so oblivious 2 things like these, even tho he’s watched porn n everythin’ . . sometimes he had NO idea what he was doing ! (he probably almost accidentally inserted himself in the wrong hole but we don’t talk abt that part)

he’s such a sweetheart, always asking you if what he’s doing is fine n if he should keep going (๑•́ ᎔ ก̀๑) i know that he’s HUGEEE on consent n i find that extremely attractive about him ! soft lovey sex w yuuji is full of surprises, the first time you both had intercourse, he was a whimpering and shaking mess n it wasn’t even your fault in the first place ! (in his point of view it was, and i quote . . . “you’re tightening around me s’much..”)

yuuji’s thrusts slowed down, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he rested his weight on top of your body, his hands shaking against your own . . keeping your wrists pinned against the soft surface of the mattress. his thrusts were gentle, it was like you could feel the love in them, you could feel his desire and arousal for you from his thrusts alone . . full with nothing but pure love. your bodies were still connected intimately, sweaty skin sticking together ever so smoothly as his hands trail down against your thighs, holding them down firmly. ( ˊᵕˋ ; ) he pulled out slowly, allowing some much needed relief to wash over his own body before pushing back in again, this time more gently than ever . . was that possible? you didn’t even know.

“if you keep squeezin’ around me like that i’ll . . mmh . .” yuuji whimpered against your ear as he tried his best to get ahold of himself, every push of his hips against yours were slow and shallow thrusts, giving you and himself both time to adjust to the sensation. “you’ll what, yuu? you’ll what ? . . ♡” the sorcerer’s cockhead rubbed against your sweet spot, eliciting soft moans from your pretty lips. “i-i’m gonna cum inside if you keep squeezin’ around me, that’s what . . i’m tryna’ keep things romantic and soft here, babe.” he stuttered in your ear, yuuji’s hands caressed your breasts and stomach, leaving trails of coolness wherever they brushed against your sensitive flesh whilst rubbing his cock against your sweet spot with a soft whimper. “you’re cute when you whimper like that, baby.” “h-haah . . fuck . . “ his eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets from the feeling of your cunt sucking him in like it’s nothing. “s-shush . . m’ not whimpering.”

he’s . . such a sweetheart . . so dreamy heart eyes . . ᐡ ⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝ᐡ !

#millie wonders (ゝз╹)#love letters for millie ! ❤︎︎#millie’s writings ✔︎#millie thirsts (ﾒ﹏ﾒ)#nonnie . . u have opened my eyes !#jjk itadori #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #yuuji x reader #yuuji smut #itadori x reader #itadori smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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sugoi-and-spice · 6 months ago

Text

For the first time in his life, Tomura Shigaraki has full control of his quirk. With this newfound freedom, there is so much that he wants to do. And it just so happens that you are at the very top of that list.

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x GN!Reader

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI

Contains: GN!Pronouns, Smut, Soft Shigaraki, Penetrative Sex (Reader Receiving), Oral Sex (Reader Recieving), Pre-Paranormal Liberation War, Post-PLF Manga Spoilers tho, Established Relationship, Alcohol, Massage, League Shenanigans. (Honestly, no crazy CW's with this one lol. It's just fluff and smut and angst lol)

Notes: I tried to write something wholesome to try and heal our mourning Shig-simp hearts... It had mixed results lol.

AO3 Link

Like my work? Please consider commissioning me or contributing to my Ko-Fi!

That seemed a little too easy.

It’s the first thought that crossed Shigaraki’s mind when he came to on the Doctor’s operating table. Don’t get him wrong, the time Ujiko had spent vivisecting him from finger to finger had been hell on earth, but it seemed to go by a little too quickly for four months.

“That’s because it’s only been a week,” Ujiko explained as he approached Shigaraki with a paper cup of water — an absolutely pathetic offering considering the world of pain the man had just mercilessly put him through.

But Shigaraki took it anyway.

“Didn’t realize that there were going to be breaks,” he said before knocking back the cup in one gulp.

“Once we begin the transference of All for One, there won’t be,” Ujiko explained, “What I was working on this time, was completing your quirk.”

Shigaraki’s brows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

Ujiko chuckled, gesturing to the paper cup in the new leader’s hands, “Why don’t you try putting your pinky down?”

He shot the doctor a confused look, not sure what exactly that would accomplish other than sparing him a trip to the trash can. But upon Ujiko’s nod of reassurance, he looked back down at the cup, bringing his raised finger down on its crease experimentally.

Shigaraki’s eyes widened immediately.

The cup was still in his hand.

It didn’t turn to dust. Didn’t even crumble or sport a single crack. He touched it with all five fingers and yet it stood with as much integrity as the steel IV pole next to him.

He snapped to the doctor, something unreadable in his voice, “Is… Is decay gone?”

“No, no of course not. I’d never purge you of such a powerful quirk,” Ujiko assured, “You just have control over it now.”

Shigaraki willed decay to activate, testing Ujiko’s explanation, and in an instant, the cup dissolved under his touch, just like he was used to.

He stared at his hand in disbelief, the dust falling through his fingers. He couldn’t believe this…

“And it’s not just turning it on or off, all or nothing,” Ujiko continued, “You can stop the spread of decay at certain points, activate it with just one finger — you have full control.”

Shigaraki snapped to Ujiko, intensely. Desperate. Maybe he should’ve been doing a better job of maintaining his poker face like Sensei would’ve, to try and hide the way this was affecting him. But he just couldn’t. Not now. Not when something he’d longed for so badly, so primally was so close to his grasp.

“Are you sure?”

Ujiko didn’t seem to take notice of this lapse of control however. Or at least, he didn’t care. His bushy mustache just raised with a small smile and pride in his work.

“Quite sure.”

Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed. He was not fucking around here, “ How sure?”

Ujiko’s smile shifted slightly, a challenging smirk pulling at the corners as he offered his own hand as fodder.

Shigaraki slapped his fingers fully atop the back of Daruma’s fat hand, letting the full extent of his anger and emotions drive him. He wanted to test this fully, test that even in fits of passion, he wouldn’t lose control.

And he didn’t.

Daruma Ujiko stood just as whole and living in front of him as the moments before. The only change was the chuckle of satisfaction that Shigaraki’s dumbfounded expression brought him.

“Pretty neat, huh?” Daruma said, turning back to start pulling out equipment for the next phase of experimentation, large hulking tubes and wires that looked more akin to HVAC parts than real medical equipment.

Neat wasn’t exactly the phrase Shigaraki would use. But he didn’t really care anymore.

He had shit to do.

“Now, regarding the next steps in your transformation—”

The EKG machine behind him beeped loudly and suddenly, signaling that it had been disconnected. Ujiko turned back to Shigaraki curiously, watching as he pulled off the various electrode pads scattered across his chest and back.

“You don’t want to get started?”

“Tomorrow,” Shigaraki answered, ripping the IV from his wrist as he hopped off the table.

“But what about the power? Your dreams?” Ujiko pressed, something strained, irritated starting to form in his voice, “I would think that these are all things you’d want without delay.”

“I do. But achieving them one day later won’t kill me. And I have some shit to take care of before I grind for four months.”

Ujiko clicked his tongue, clearly unsatisfied with this new development.

He knew exactly what Shigaraki had to go take care of. And he didn’t like it. Didn’t like you . He’d never liked you in fact. You asked too many questions. Had too many suspicions…

But Shigaraki didn’t care about the doctor’s disapproval, simply turned to him after slapping a bandage over his free-flowing wrist and commanded, “Warp me back to the villa.”

This clearly wasn’t up for discussion. Ujiko could’ve protested, sure, but at the end of the day it wouldn’t have mattered. Shigaraki wasn’t a kid anymore, far from it. He’d taken the mantle of true leader by force, and held his head high with the confidence that accomplishment deserved. If he wanted to do something, he was going to do it. The risk of upsetting the doctor or even his master was not a concern anymore. It barely ever had been.

So in the end Ujiko just sighed and turned to his obedient servant sitting patiently in the corner, “Johnny.”

Shigaraki didn’t so much as flinch as the warp came spewing out of his mouth. In fact, a rare sheen of childlike joy took over his features instead. Daruma noted this with a shaking head as he warped away. Oh well. If Shigaraki wanted one last night with his companions, with his little distraction , who was Ujiko to get in the way?

This was the last night he’d have control over his own body after all. Might as well let him enjoy it.

“Robber!” you cheered victoriously, pumping your fist over the seven you rolled.

“Noooo, not again!!” Toga cried out.

You grabbed the little gray token off the board, twirling it around tauntingly as you hum, “Hmmm, and where should I put him? I wonder…”

Spinner glared at you from across the board, “If you put it on my wheat field one more time—”

“Great idea Spinner!” you mock-gasped, already well aware of where you were planning to put it, and slap the Robber down in the center of Spinner’s monopolized wheat hex.

“Great move! Cheap shot! ” Twice, the last player of the group, piped in.

“ Damn it !” Spinner punched his fist down on the table, shaking the drinks surrounding the board precariously.

“Oi, oi careful there!” you said, grabbing your glass of wine protectively, “If you party foul, you lose a turn.”

Spinner just grumbled irritably, grabbing his own beer and knocking it back to try and quell some of his frustration. You giggled at the sight. It would be easy to assume that Shigaraki was the most competitive and aggressive game player out of the League, but he actually managed to keep his cool during sessions most of the time. No, it was undeniably Spinner that was the most uncontrollably competitive, and it never failed to make you smile.

Even as the thought of Shigaraki threatened your demeanor with a frown.

You shook out the thought, because of course, you had another certain player to focus on. And you turned to her pointedly.

“Alright Toga, half your hand, let’s go.”

She gasped, “Whaaaat? What are you talking about!? I only have six cards!”

“That’s because two of them are sticking out of your sweater.”

Toga looked down to her sleeve, where indeed the corners of two resource cards were poking out rebelliously.

She snapped back to Compress in offense, who sat on the couch behind her, observing the game amusedly with his own glass of wine in hand, “Atsuhiro! You said that trick would work!”

“I’m sorry my dear,” he shrugged his hands tragically, “But it seems your sleight of hand needs a bit more work.”

Toga groaned, pulling her cards out of her sleeve and looking over which ones she wanted to discard with a pout.

Crushing his finished beer in his hand, Spinner turned back to Dabi who sat across the room, as far from the game as possible, and pretending not to watch it all, like he wsn’t invested in a single thing in this room. Not at all.

“Oi Dabi, can you grab me a beer?”

“You’ve got legs, get it yourself.”

“But the fridge is right freaking next to you!” Spinner shouted, pointing at the minifridge that actually, was not only right next to Dabi, but that he was currently resting his feet on top of.

But Dabi was a son of a bitch. So rather than even giving him an answer, he just crossed his feet over the fridge, making himself more comfortable.

“God, seriously ?!”

Shigaraki watched this all from the doorway with a whisper of a smile on his face. He’d stopped by his bedroom at the villa to grab a button down and even considered grabbing a quick shower while he was at it before coming here — the griminess of a week of experimentation sticking to him thickly. But ultimately he’d been too eager to see his comrades.

Yet, once he got to the doorway that the familiar rowdy laughter of his League led him to, he couldn’t help but just stop and take in the moment. It was nice to see them all so comfortable and content after months of chaos and vagrancy. And it was a look that especially suited you.

While you’d never been particularly materialistic or image-obsessed (if your decision to be with him didn’t make that obvious), you certainly also weren’t one to turn down the finer things in life when offered. And clearly here, you’d been offered, given the cashmere sweater and expensive bottle of wine you were currently enjoying. The regular access to showers and brand name moisturizers and cosmetics certainly weren’t hurting you either. Your skin was clearer and more glowing than he’d seen in months. You’d even seemed to have some time to style your hair today.

And of course there was your laugh. That big, uninhibited laugh that you only let out when you were truly comfortable. In general you were a pretty pragmatic person. It’s one of the things he’d always appreciated about you, particularly when surrounded by this circus that he calls a villain group.

You approached new situations skeptically and took most things seriously. It’s not like you had no sense of humor, quite the opposite actually. But you also were very aware that there was a time and place for everything. When the pressure was high, laughter was nowhere to be found. And it had certainly been nowhere to be found for a while now.

So it went without saying that seeing you like this now, laughing over a game board, cheeks tinged slightly-red from the wine, completely taken care of and without a care in the world…

It was quite the sight for sore eyes.

“Shigaraki?”

He blinked and looked back to Spinner who, in standing to go grab a beer from the fridge, had turned and spotted him in the doorway.

“Tomura!” Toga squealed excitedly, jumping up out of her seat with Twice to join Spinner in barraging him in the doorway.

“What’re you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be leveling up with the Doc?” Spinner asked.

“Got a night off,” he answered simply.

“That’s awesome boss! Who needs ya?! ”

He turned to look past the three as you approached behind them, much calmer than the others, as usual. But that didn’t mean you weren’t just as thrilled to have him here. The adoration in your eyes was clear from across the room and it warmed him up in a way that he’d learned to really enjoy.

“It’s good to see you,” you said, simple and sweet. There was clearly so much more behind those words, but you knew how Shigaraki felt about doing shit like that in front of people, so you kept it subtle.

Apparently the caution was unnecessary though, as Shigaraki seemed to have lost his own patience for pretense. Even if it made his next words the spark that set off a firework show of “ooo’s” and teasing from resident forever teenagers, Toga and Twice.

“Yeah…” he breathed, “...Can we talk? Alone?”

It was all you could do to sit down on his bed when he told you.

“Full control?” you repeated in disbelief.

“Full control.”

You smiled, so genuinely, eyes starting to shine. You weren't even thinking about what this meant for the two of you yet, you were just happy for him, for the peace he could now live with. The burden that had eased.

“That… That’s amazing Tomura…”

Shigaraki stared down at you, a lump of nerves settling in his gut. He wasn’t affected by things like nerves or apprehension very much anymore — barely ever was in the first place, and especially not now that he had all the confidence and authority of a “Supreme Leader”. But he couldn’t keep those feelings from surfacing in that moment, couldn’t shake the image in his mind of things going terribly wrong.

Of you crumbling into a pile of dust and viscera in front of him.

He swallowed down those fears though, and started to reach out a shaky hand, “Can… Can I…?”

Whatever apprehension he felt, you obviously didn’t share. You shot out a hand immediately, without hesitation. With complete trust in his word. In him.

His trembling palm pressed against your own firm one, fingers still raised taught and high on instinct, careful not to make contact. You slotted your fingers through his own, bringing them down to hold his hand with none of that same carefulness. His knee-jerk reaction was to scold you for being so reckless around his hands, just like he always did, but he held the words back, knowing he didn’t need to anymore. But the subconscious anxiety buzzing within him was just the same.

You didn’t rush him either. Just gave him a squeeze of reassurance, and that was enough to finally encourage him to put a finger down. And then another. Tip by tip resting firmly and fully against your knuckles, until only his pinky remained raised.

He stared down at the horrid appendage, the one that had betrayed him so many times. That he could remember the horrible, gruesome ways in which it had destroyed in full, vivid detail now. Of the damage it could do to not only the world, but had done to his world. To Mon-chan, his mother, his sister…

The League was his world now — you were his world. And the idea of destroying that all with his own hands. It was too much.

No, he decided, starting to pull away. This wasn’t fucking worth the risk.

But you leaned forward then, pressing your lips gently against his, locking him in place. You didn’t deepen it, nor did you pull away. You just held yourself against him, willing him to understand that this would all be okay. That he was a “Grand Commander” now, and with that came taking risks. Risks that you’d stand behind him through to the bitter end.

How you managed to communicate that all in just a kiss — how you always managed to communicate so much with so little — should’ve been a quirk of its own honestly. But regardless of how, the comfort of those unspoken words was enough to spur him forward. Shigaraki brought down his pinky.

And you didn’t turn to dust.

You pulled away in fact, just a little, your eyes fluttering open as a soft, tearful smile spread across your face.

“Tomura—”

He surged forward, all of that hesitation and fear from before vanished in an instant. He shoved your hands together forward, pressing you to the bed as he kissed you with new fervor. His free hand came to hold your face, full and tight, all five fingers scrambling up the length of your cheek, your temple, tangling tight into your hair.

You sobbed happily into his mouth as he pulled his other hand free from yours, running it all across your body, disintegrating your clothes on contact, and then bringing those fingers back up the same route of bare skin, fully in control.

He was just as quick to decay his own clothes as you reached forward to try and tear at the top button of his shirt, which, while haphazardly done, was still too secure for either of your patience. He needed to feel you, all of you. Every inch against every pad of his fingers for the very first time.

And possibly even the last.

He didn’t want to think about that now though. He just wanted to shove you up higher onto the center of the bed, shoving your legs open wide as he kissed down the expanse of your chest and stomach. As he buried himself into your center, the pads of his fingers squeezing painfully tight into the pudge of your thighs.

But you didn’t mind the pain. Not only because it surged the pleasure just that much further, but because it grounded you. Reminded you that this was real. It promised a world — no matter how distant or near-impossible it was in reality — where Tomura Shigaraki could be whole and happy.

Where he could fully be with you.

Your legs strained against his grip, instinctually trying to close as his working tongue pushed you closer and closer to climax. It wasn’t going to take you long at all to reach that peak. After all, the intensity and emotion of the moment aside, it had been a long while since your last coupling. The weeks of recovering from his fight with Re-Destro, the full month you all spent fighting Gigantomachia. And of course, even before that, with the close quarters and stress that came from living on the run and in complete squalor, your escapades had become pretty few and far between. (It was hard to get in the mood when you hadn’t eaten or showered properly in over a week).

So yeah, suffice it to say you were pretty touch-starved at this point, the work of your fingers on lonely nights at the villa having absolutely nothing on Shigaraki’s skillful tongue. And the voraciousness with which he assaulted your sex certainly wasn’t slowing things down for you either.

He didn’t even need to slip his long, knowing fingers into you to have you coming undone — he wouldn’t want to right now anyway, completely losing himself in the way your thighs felt squeezed between his fingers, but that feel of his nails digging into you spurred you on in their own way, ripping a cry from your throat as you came hard under his lips.

Shigaraki smirked up at you, wiping the excess slick from his chin with the meat of his palm, “Missed that.”

You smiled back at him, your own tinged with a bit of sadness as he climbed up over you, hands running up your ribcage. Because you didn’t just miss this. You missed him. And you knew that feeling wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. In fact, it was just getting started.

His brows furrowed at your expression. He’d always been good at reading you, and it’s not like you were being particularly subtle, “You good?”

You chased the melancholy from your smile quickly, planting a happy peck at the corner of his mouth before showing him teeth, “I’m great.”

He hummed, a gentleness overtaking his own features as he stared down at you. Adoration, pure and whole and unrestrained, particularly as he brought a hand back up to cup your face. His fingers spread across the expanse of your skin greedily, his thumb dipping down into your mouth.

They were small gestures, little things that he seemed the most eager to do with his newly-attained range of touch. But it was obvious that they were huge to him. They were a freedom and a comfort that he’d been chasing his entire life. Even if he didn’t know it.

He groaned as you wrapped your own fingers around his cock, guiding him eagerly to your entrance. You had to. As much as he obviously wanted to fuck you, he couldn’t bare to take his fingers off of you for a second. He’d settle for fucking the plush of your thighs if it meant that he could hold you fully in his hands for just a second longer.

You, of course, were not so willing to settle.

“God—fuuck yes,” he growled, low in his throat, as he sank slowly into you, eternally grateful that for once your patience was even more lacking than his.

You grinned up at him`, shifting your hands to settle on the hard curves of his hips, “That’s good, huh?”

It was all he could do to nod shakily, lip biting back a breathy whine and brows knitting hard, as he tried desperately not to blow his load immediately.

You hummed happily at the sight, bringing one of your hands up to run across his cheek and through his hair. You remembered thinking a few months ago just how much those fights with Gigantomachia and Redestro had hardened him, aged him. Foolishly, it had even had you questioning briefly if this would be the end of your relationship. If maybe the shift that occurred during his awakening would chasm too big a valley for you two to bridge.

Of course, in the privacy of the League’s quarters, off of the stages and away from all the new adoring fans (bandwagoners, you and Spinner sometimes like to joke), he had been the same old Tomura Shigaraki, if not a little more confident and level-headed. He still complained about how everyone sitting on his bed eating dinner while he was on strict bed rest was too loud, still invested himself fully and kicking ass at every little game – from video games to cards – they challenged him to in order to pass the time with a cocky little smirk on his face.

And right now, with his face flushed and mouth agape with pleasure, he still looked just as young and ready to take on the world as the day you met him.

Finally he started to rock into you, slow and deep. One of his hands slipped down to the crux of your neck, fingertips biting tight into that smooth skin as he pulled you closer and closer into him. The other found a tight, desperate purchase on the handle of your hip. He used the grip of both to pump harder and deeper into you with every snapping thrust.

Minus the dry spell the two of you had endured over the last couple of months, you and Shigaraki had, overall, had a lot of sex over the last year that you’d known him.

Like, a lot of sex.

Rough sex, soft sex, angry, and fun. And while the man who claimed to hate everything would of course be remiss to admit it, there had indeed been quite a lot of genuine, intense lovemaking mixed in there too. But this right now, with all of the feelings and newness and longing that came with every stroke and whisper?

If Tomura Shigaraki was in fact capable of love, you were positive that this was the representation of that.

His lips dropped hot against the shell of your ear, peppering desperate bites and kisses along the skin as a string of breathy babble spilled out between.

“God fuck, you’re so perfect. Feel so good. Every part of you, so good. So fucking perfect…”

Overwhelmed with emotion and pleasure, it was all you could do to just mewl out his name, “Tomura, Tomura, Tomura—!”

His hips rolled against you with every hard buck, stimulating your aching sex in the way he knew you loved. That would have you clenching and spilling around him over and over again in the way that he loved. You weren’t even sure if it was intentional at this point, or if you had memorized each other’s bodies so well that it just became an instinctual part of his movement. You certainly didn’t have the forethought to drag your nails up the curve of his spine in the way that had him cursing and speeding up immediately.

“F-Fuck, I’m not gonna last like that—” he growled out, rutting desperately into you in spite of his own warning.

“G-Good,” you breathed back, rolling your hips right back into his, “Don’t.”

“B-But—”

He couldn’t get the rest of the words out, his mouth overtaken by a deliciously loud moan instead as he hit that deep, spongy spot inside of you that was heaven for the both of you. You got the message anyway.

But he wanted to keep fucking you. But he wanted this to last.

But he never wanted this to end.

You tangled your hand through his locks, reveling in the fact that there was so much more to hold now, and yanked his head back hard so he’d look at you.

“But nothing,” you smiled through hot, huffing breaths, “You’re fucking crazy if you think this is our only round.”

He stared at you in complete awe for a moment, hips almost coming to a stop as he took in this moment, took in you and the way that you always seemed to know what he was thinking and what he needed, even when he didn’t.

Even if he hadn’t had his own dreams for the future, looking at you now, reveling in all that you’d been through together and all that you’d done for him, thinking about all that you deserved… If he could destroy this rotten society just so that you could have the freedom to be half as happy as you looked in this moment for the rest of your life, he’d gladly fucking do it.

Shigaraki’s face mirrored yours quickly after, a wide lascivious grin spreading across his face. It was all teeth and joy and feral desire to absolutely fucking wreck you. And let himself pound into you with the most reckless abandon he could muster.

You cried out at the new punishing pace, nails pushing hard into his skin, and heels locking sharp around his waist, spurred by the desperate need to have him pound into you harder, deeper, faster. Until you were completely coming apart around him, with his own violent release following close behind.

About two hours later, when you’re lying blissed out, sticky, and half-asleep on Shigaraki’s bare chest, he told you to roll over onto your stomach.

You groaned in protest — while your spirit was eager to roll around the sheets with him as much as possible before the sunrise, your body was sore and spent.

“Not for that,” he said, nudging your shoulder, “Just trust me.”

There was still some visible exasperation as you finally gave in, joints and back aching as you moved them before they were ready. You rolled over onto your stomach, dropping your cheek into the mountain of pillows that awaited you.

Shigaraki followed, moving his body over yours and straddling your hips. You were about to scold him for tricking you when, rather than grinding himself into the curve of your ass or thighs, he simply sat down on your butt and brought his hands to the base of your back. Then he started to knead and you knew exactly what he was doing.

Many a time during your months on the run did you take it upon yourself to try and alleviate some of his stress. Of course one of his favorite ways (and yours too) of doing so was to fuck each other’s brains out. But there were also many times when that wasn’t exactly an option. Whether because there were others around or because he was elbow deep in work for their next operation.

At times like those, when he was hunched over a shitty, half-dead laptop he’d manage to scrounge up from a dumpster, or held his fingers to the bridge of his nose, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to fight off an impending headache from the constant pressures of responsibility — you’d usually come up behind him and rub his neck.

It wasn’t like you made a big show of it or anything. Most of the time you’d just reach a single hand over to him and start to stroke his neck without a word. Not expecting him to say or do anything, not even expecting a thank you. You just wanted to do whatever you could. When it was just the two of you around whatever sorry excuse for a base you’d managed to find, or when you’d been lucky enough to be settled in a safehouse with private rooms, you’d manage to talk him into laying down on his stomach, much like this, and work knots that he could’ve sworn had been there since birth, right out of his back.

He never said anything about it, never thanked you nor told you to stop, but in retrospect he did realize that it was one of the few things that managed to bring him even a smidgeon of peace over those many stressful months, that actually got him through it all. Particularly in the fights against Gigantomachia, where, the second the beast was asleep, you’d insist he lay his head down in your lap while you rubbed softly at his temples, lulling him near instantly to do the same.

It truly meant the world to him, even if he’d never admit it. A deep, foolishly sentimental part of him always wished that he could return the favor.

And now he could.

Of course… That didn’t mean he was any good at it.

“Pinching, you’re pinching,” you winced as his thumbs pressed together, unoiled, on a patch of your back awkwardly.

“Oh shit,” he released his grip, settling to just rub his fingers up and down your back slowly, “Sorry…”

“It’s fine. You just can’t do it that hard if you don’t have any oil or lotion, you know?”

His brows furrowed, “You always did it that hard without any of that crap and it felt fine.

You smirked back at him playfully, “That’s because I’m really good.”

He shot you a look, completely unimpressed.

“I liked what you were doing before,” you conceded.

This was clearly something he wanted to do, and who were you to complain or judge when he was being so unabashedly giving?

“When you were using your palms. Just pressing and kneading with your whole hands rather than trying to do any pressure point stuff is really nice.”

“Yeah, okay…” he nodded, concentration settling over his features as he followed instructions.

You sighed, burying your face back into the pillows as he ran those hot, calloused hands purposefully up and down your back.

This was nice.

Again, while he wasn’t hurting you anymore, the massage itself wasn’t particularly skillful. It did put you at ease though, the way his smell and presence, the way those hands — even when you could never feel them fully against you — always managed to put you at ease.

After at least thirty minutes passed and Shigaraki showed no sign of stopping his ministrations, you peaked back up at him.

“You don’t have to keep this up you know.”

He snorted, “Yeah I know.”

And you should’ve expected that response. Because of course he knew. He wasn’t doing this out of obligation or anything. Tomura Shigaraki didn’t do anything he didn’t want to after all.

You rolled your eyes, “I just mean that you must be tired after all that. Don’t you want to sleep?”

“I’m gonna be asleep for the next four months. I think I’ll be good missing one night.”

The message behind those words was clear. He only had so much time to spend with you, he wasn’t going to waste even a second of it with something as stupid as sleeping.

You should’ve been flattered by that. And of course you were. And truth be told, you had the same mindset as him. You had no plans to sleep that night either, even if he had. But the reminder of his fate for the next four months brought a bitterness to your mouth that overpowered the sweetness of this opportunity.

“Sleep, huh?” you said doubtfully, “Is that what the Doctor is calling it?”

“I guess suspended animation,” he corrected himself, “Or whatever the fuck.”

Amongst other things. Hellish agony he believed was the way the Doctor so eloquently put it. But he’d chosen to spare you (and the rest of the League) those particular details.

Even without that knowledge though, you still weren’t thrilled by the prospect. Of course because you were going to miss him, but mostly because you trusted that fucking doctor about as far as he could throw you. Which, for that portly little creep, you were pretty sure wasn’t far.

Particularly, because now that the excitement and happiness you’d had for Tomura’s newfound quirk control (as well as the fog from your repeated orgasms) was starting to fade into something more grounded, a sneaky little question managed to worm its way into your head.

Had the Doctor been capable of “fixing” his quirk this entire time?

A loud pounding on the door suddenly broke the silence, at least two fists rapping. And then Twice’s muffled call of, “Alright you two, you’ve had your fun! Now come out and play with the rest of us! Take your time! Make babies if ya want!”

You snorted at the call. Shigaraki was substantially less entertained.

“Jiiiin!” Toga whined from the other side of the door, “Leave them alone! They want some privacy!”

Ah, so the two fists knocking must’ve both been Twice.

“But you missed Shigaraki too, Toga!”

“I know, but…”

A stretch of silence. And then apparently Toga’s support for love was outweighed by how much she missed her friend. Because then two more fists started knocking on the door.

“Tomuraaaa, come ooouuuut!!” Toga cried, Twice starting up his own pounding on the door right along with them.

“Yeah, yeah— come out! Stay away !”

“I’ll kill them…” Shigaraki growled, glaring at the door heatedly.

You just giggled as you rolled over under him, dropping him to sit on your waist.

“Oh don’t be like that Tomura,” you cooed, reaching up to cup his cheek in your palm and turning him to look at you, “We should all go hang out. I’m not the only one who’s gonna miss you these next four months, you know.”

He sneered at the suggestion at first, wanting nothing more than to spend the entirety of these next twelve or so hours with his hands holding on to you as tight as possible.

But then he really got thinking about it. About them.

Spinner, Toga, Twice, Compress, hell, even Dabi. There wasn’t going to be time to fuck around with them all once he woke up. They’d be going straight into action, into war. Into the future, wherever that may lead. This wasn’t just going to be his last guaranteed chance to enjoy time with you. It was his last chance to spend time with any of them, until they achieved their goals. And by the end of all that, who even knew how many of them would still be alive?

It was a weight he’d carried around with ease as they planned out their attack over the last couple of months, a weight he’d been carrying for the past year if he was being honest. But it never felt as heavy on his soul at this very moment.

You were right. Absolutely right.

How annoying, he thought with a grumble.

You smiled as you saw that shift on his face, the slight softness that always fell over him when he thought about the League, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

“Alright?” you pressed.

He sighed, “Yeah, yeah. Alright…”

And then let the corner of his mouth quirk up ever so slightly as he looked down at you, so splayed and fucked out and pretty. He leaned down to press a long, but surprisingly chaste kiss on you, for someone that was still sitting atop your naked form with his own.

Because just because he was going to get up, didn’t mean he was going to be in any rush.

Caught up in the feel of each other, neither of you noticed the click of the door and Spinner’s voice announcing, startlingly clear, “Guys, the door is unlocked.”

“Ack— SPINNER!! ”

“Okay, you’ve got that all memorized?” Toga chirped, sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor.

“Yeah, I guess.” Shigaraki, across from her, shrugged, strongly resisting the urge to tell her about how stupid this all was (again).

“Great! So then we start in that first position, crossed arms,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest by example.

Shigaraki sighed and mirrored her.

“Alright! One, two, three!” she sounded off excitedly, before fluttering her hands eagerly and singing, “Misssss Maaaaaryyyyy Mack, Mack, Mack! All dressed in black, black, black…”

You grinned from your position on the couch, glass of wine in hand, as you watched the two. Shigaraki was pointedly not singing along with Toga, but he was matching her claps with impeccable accuracy.

The League had been just as stunned and excited to hear about Shigaraki’s new upgrade. Not to the point of immediately jumping on his dick, but that was obviously more than okay with him.

No, they were more interested in giving him a speedrun through all of the things he’d missed out on in life from not being able to grab it with all five fingers. Playground clap games that Shigaraki, as a boy, couldn’t say he ever played even before his quirk awakened, were apparently of the highest priority to Toga.

“With silver buttons, buttons buttons— Tomura, you’re not singing!”

“And I’m not gonna,” he grumbled back, but not stopping his hands, “Take the W as it is, or don’t take it at all.”

You laughed at the sight, a new glass of wine that you were sure Shigaraki would want by the end of this.

Mr. Compress read Shigaraki’s palms next.

They supposed that this was technically something they could’ve done even before Shigaraki’s upgrade, but with how careful and particular he’d been with anybody getting anywhere near his hands, it definitely wasn’t something they had ever thought to give a go before now.

He decided to read the palm that hadn’t been marred by the fight with Redestro, for more “accuracy” (a reasoning that Shigaraki had openly scoffed at).

“Your love line is quite straight and short,” Compress explained, “Which indicates that you don’t have a lot of interest in love.”

“Booooo,” a red-faced Toga whined from her place on the floor between your legs, shooting Shigaraki an aggressive thumbs down.

You promptly grabbed the half-empty can of chuhai next to her foot, and moved it up to the side table out of her sight. Underage drinking was officially done for the night.

Unbothered, Mr. Compress continued his reading, running his mechanical finger along the top line of Shigaraki’s palm, “Since your love line begins below your middle finger though, it also means that when you do love, you’re quite selfish about it.”

You chuckled, “Hammer? Meet nail.”

“Oh shut up,” he waved you off with his free hand.

“Next is your head line, which represents the way you learn and communicate, as well as your overall intellectualism and thirst for knowledge.” Compress turned to the rest of the group, finger raised as he lectured.

Dabi, from his place leaning judgmentally against the wall across from them, huffed, “Alright, I agree with the Boss on this one. This is really stupid.”

Toga grinned at him, pointing teasingly, “You’re just saying that because you don’t have any more lines in your palm to read! Jelly!”

“I’m not—”

“Jelly!” Twice backed Toga up with a chant, “Jelly, jelly, jelly! Peanut butter !”

Dabi just sighed and returned to his nth beer of the night.

“You have a deep and long head line, that runs separate from your heart line,” Compress continued, “That means that you’re clear and focussed, with a great sense of adventure and enthusiasm for life.”

Shigaraki snorted, “Alright, now I know this is bullshit.”

You flicked his cheek scoldingly, “Just keep going.”

“I also see a singular cross in your heart line, which suggests that you carry some emotional crisis.”

Compress didn’t linger on that point. After all, everyone in this room was dealing with the same thing in one way or another.

“The lifeline is the most interesting in my opinion,” Compress explained, “As opposed to what you might think, it doesn’t have to do with the length of your life, but the quality of it. Yours runs close to the thumb and forks downwards, which means you’re often tired and a pessimist.”

Toga snickered a bit at that, “Still think it’s BS, Tomura?”

“I’m getting the distinct feeling you guys are doing this just as an excuse to insult me to my face.”

You gave his freehand a squeeze, “Oh we don’t need the pretense to do that.”

“ Oi. ”

“There’s a circle in the line too, which predicts great injury or hospitalization.”

The League looked at him pointedly, and he just rolled his eyes.

“The last detail about your life line is a curious one. It’s short and shallow,” Compress said, cocking his head in a way that clearly indicated that he didn’t exactly agree with it, “Which indicates that you’re easily manipulated by others.”

Your frowned.

The rest of the League members pulled faces that clearly showed their similar disagreement with the reading. But you, thinking back to all his interactions with All for One and the Doctor, everything in his life that he’d described to you…

Well, you weren’t so sure.

“Pffft, like I said,” Shigaraki scoffed, gesturing for you to hand him his wine, “It’s all bullshit.”

Deliberately, Mr. Compress did not read Shigaraki’s fate line.

You weren’t sure when the night turned into the League taking turns with choosing tasks for Shigaraki to complete, but you weren’t going to complain. You were already looking forward to Toga’s next round after she’d screamed up into the security camera you all knew Skeptic was watching irritatedly through to get her some string for cat’s cradle.

Spinner’s turn was pretty simple though, and at first, not especially different then before. You thought at first that maybe that was by design, that Spinner just wanted to spend some time with Shigaraki the way he always had.

He wanted to play video games.

Of course, there was a twist.

“Fingers down.” Spinner scolded him for what had to be the fifth time in the last ten minutes, “Toga, I need chicken.”

“Yes, chef!” she chirped back happily.

“God, fucking—” Shigaraki growled, forcing his pinkies back down onto the controller against every instinct in his body.

Years of having to hold things in a particular way had caused him to develop a very particular controller grip. One that, once, back at the bar — god, that felt like it was so long ago now — several of you had tried to mimic, just for the hell of it. (Or more accurately, just to get his goat). And it had been hard . The general consensus had been that no normal human should be able to hold a controller like this, let alone hold a controller like this and be as good at video games as Tomura Shigaraki was.

Now though, the shoe was on the other foot — or more accurately the controller was in the other hands — as you all forced Shigaraki to go a couple rounds of Overcooked while holding the pro controller like a normal fucking person. And it was not going well.

“Stop dropping shit!” you yelled hysterically next to Shigaraki, “Do you see how many burritos we still need to make?!”

“Do you think I’m doing it on purpose?!” he shouted right back, possibly more worked up than you’d ever seen him.

Toga on the other side of him giggled. She and Spinner were having absolutely no trouble at all on their side of the kitchen, “Tomura, I thought you were supposed to be good at video games.”

“I am! I’m just not used to this grip— FUCK! ” he screamed out as his character once again fell off the map, throwing his controller down onto the carpet.

The room erupted in doubled over laughter and “woah woah woah’s”, over the tantrum the sorts of which none of you had seen since the early days back at the bar.

Maybe he wasn’t such a good sport after all.

With Twice’s request, even you had to admit that things were getting a bit ridiculous.

Twice slammed his elbow down onto the table, holding his palm open for Shigaraki to take, “Gimme all you got, boss! Go easy on me, please!”

Shigaraki, on the other hand, seemed the most enthusiastic about this one, placing his own elbow on the table and grabbing Twice’s hand tight in his own with a cocky grin.

You suspected that the many beers he’d knocked back (not to mention the entire bottle of wine the two of you had killed together) played a decent role in that, but it was also impossible to deny that their dear leader was fiercely competitive, no matter the game.

“Ready?” you asked, looking between the two. They nodded, and you begrudgingly stepped further into your role as referee, clapping as you counted down, “Three, two, one— arm wrestle!”

The room blew up in a (small) chorus of screams and cheers. Actually, even that was generous. As referee you were expressly forbidden from picking sides (Twice was very serious about that), and Compress and Dabi were too composed and too uninterested respectively to participate. It was just Spinner and Toga going wild and slamming their hands on the table as Shigaraki’s and Twice’s muscles strained against each other — although they were more than loud enough for the whole group.

“Go, Jin go!” Toga cheered rhythmically, “Go, Jin go!”

“Kick his ass, Shigaraki!”

The match lasted a respectable amount of time, both sides putting up a pretty damn good fight. And while Twice was built like a tank and was no slouch either — he probably would’ve won this by a moderate margin a couple of months ago — Shigaraki’s month-long escapade with Gigantomachia had given him a strength and will that surpassed Twice’s own.

“Arrrrgh— damn it !!” Twice shouted as Shigaraki slammed his fist down into the table definitively, “Great game Shigaraki! Die!”

You chuckled as Twice got up from his seat, head dropped in defeat, then turned to Spinner, who was already rolling out his dominant shoulder.

“Next challenger,” you gestured to the seat, “You’re up.”

Dabi didn’t have any requests throughout the night (surprise, surprise), just a lot of eyerolls and snippy commentary. But he also didn’t ever split off from any of you, which made you consider that he may not have thought this was all as stupid as he claimed.

The part of the night he seemed to enjoy (or at least, not vocalize his annoyance or the group’s childishness over), the most, was when around 4 am rolled around.

Out of ideas and exhausted, but absolutely refusing to go to bed, the League decided to take a particularly noisy and drunken nightwalk around the property (much to the dread of whichever resident’s window they passed). This quickly turned into an equally harebrained climb up onto the roof so that you could all watch the sun come up.

That sunrise was still a good hour or so away though by the time you all got settled up there, and as chatty, adrenaline-filled, and drunk as most of you were, the late hour and comforting breeze was starting to get to you all.

Twice and Toga had long fallen asleep, heads resting together. Compress, with his hands folded over his stomach and Spinner, curling up tighter into a ball with every minute, were not far behind. Dabi’s eyes were closed, but he might’ve still been conscious. He didn’t make a sound either way.

Only Shigaraki seemed to be wide awake, staring up at the waning moon with a complex expression on his face. He looked like he was thinking hard, but also somewhat at peace. Grateful for this moment, but already mourning its inevitable end. Exhilarated by the future that began for him tomorrow.

Wondering just what exactly he’d be leaving behind in the past.

You watched this all cross his face, not shifting between expressions, but clearly feeling it all at once. Overwhelmed, and unprepared to process it all. The one thing that seemed to keep him grounded was the hand that held yours, tight and warm. Anytime tonight that his hands weren’t occupied with whatever silly ringer the rest of the League was putting through, he was threading those fingers right back with yours, savoring the one new experience that he truly wanted to indulge the most in.

And you were more than happy to let him.

He shifted a bit in surprise as you nuzzled into his shoulder, squeezing his hand just a bit tighter in your own.

“You’re still awake,” he commented, voice horse with the sleep his body clearly wanted.

“So are you,” you mumbled against the fabric of his shirt, just breathing him in.

“Yeah, but you need sleep,” he chuckled, “Like I said, I’ll be having more than enough of it for the next four months.”

You stilled against him, frowning.

Right. The next four months.

Shigaraki seemed to sense your shift in mood, and kicked himself. That was a stupid thing to mention again when you’d finally managed to put it out of your mind for a few hours, and when that fate itself was even fewer hours away.

He ran his thumb with a restlessness that was once reserved for his nails against his neck. Even with that itch seemingly gone for good from his life, Shigaraki was still a fidgety person by nature. Especially when uncomfortable.

“You guys will be busy,” he grumbled, “Planning the attacks, organizing your regiments, training… You’ll barely even notice I’m gone.”

You didn’t comment on the stupidity of that statement, even though it was a really, really stupid and patently untrue thing for him to say. Because frankly, it wasn’t what was on your mind at the moment, not the front of it anyway. Of course the fact that you were going to miss him and these days together was a constant parasite, gnawing and suckling in the back of your brain. But truly, your current concern was a bit less melancholy. Less abstract.

Shigaraki had full control over his quirk now. And it was great and beautiful and nothing short of a miracle of course, you wouldn’t trade this night and all the memories opened up by that particular door for anything in the world. And yet you could not fight that question that had first struck your mind the first moment you had to actually think about it.

Why now?

That question wrenched through you painfully, no matter how much you loved the feel and sight of his hand in your own. Because sure, Shigaraki had been out of touch with the Doctor ever since All for One’s arrest. But what about the last sixteen some years that he’d been at the personal beck and call of All for One and his ward? Why hadn’t he ever adjusted Shigaraki’s quirk then? Was it a matter of technology, a breakthrough in quirk alteration he only recently was able to make? Or was it something else? Was there something bigger going on here?

What was he not telling you all?

Shigaraki looked down at you, giving that flat expression of his that you knew translated to concern. You looked up from your locked hands to meet his gaze. He stared into you, those deep pools of carmine that stood so hard against the rest of the world, now soft and imploring. Even more than they were for the League. This look was for you.

“Tomura—”

“It’s gonna be worth it.”

You paused, that newfound calm confidence in his voice silencing you in an instant.

“I know these next four months are gonna be hard for all of us. This war is gonna be hard for all of us,” he said, turning to stare back up at the stars, “But it’s all going to be worth it in the end. We’re gonna make a new world where you’re all able to live as you want to. To be free. And this power that the Doctor is giving me... That’s going to assure that it all happens.”

“And… You don’t think that you can do all that now?” you breathed, “You’ve gotten so strong already, Tomura. Maybe you don’t even need that power.”

He turned back to you with a small but sincere smile. The one that betrayed that deep down tenderness he always tried so earnestly to hide. That called his bluff, revealing that there were feelings other than hate in that cursed body of his.

The one that made your heart skip a beat.

“I don’t want to take any chances,” he said, bringing his free hand — all five fingers — to rest on your cheek, “Not when it comes to my comrades’ dreams.”

Not when it comes to you .

Those unspoken words were loud and clear.

You swallowed something tight in your throat, fighting the burn that threatened to overflow from your eyes, the worry that brawled to burst out from your chest and ruin everything. But you had no choice but to shove it all down.

Forcing a smile onto your face, you squeezed his hand tight.

“I understand.”

His own smile remained the same, although a bit of relief did seem to fall over his eyes. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple and stayed there, breathing as much of you in as he possibly could.

Shigaraki had made up his mind. He was going to go through with this. And there was nothing you could say, no concern you could voice or ultimatum you could give that would change his mind. This decision was beyond his own wants and dreams at this point. It was for something far more important to him, even if he’d never admit it.

This was for all of you.

And who were you to stand in the way of that?

The fears wouldn’t ease with time, the nagging in the back of your head wouldn’t be forgotten through training or planning or anything else that you could do in the next four months to try and drown it out. But you just had to suck it up. You had to support him.

You could talk about your fears and the Doctor and any secret ambitions he may have after this ordeal. After the war even. You could talk about anything then, really. It was only four months after all.

And the two of you would soon have all the time in the world.

#TOMURA SHIRAGAKI #TOMURA SHIGARAKI X READER #TOMURA SHIGARAKI X OC #SHIGARAKI #TOMURA SHIGARAKI #BNHA SHIGARAKI #MHA SHIGARKI #SHIGARAKI FANFIC #READER INSERT #SMUT #SHIGARAKI SMUT #SPICE WRITES #MHA #BNHA #MHA SMUT #BNHA SMUT #league of villains #mha spoilers #bnha spoilers

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moneymartin · 6 months ago

Note

okau i know u already did these but can u do more nsfw hcs for nika???

✧.* - smutty nika hcs

warnings: this whole thing is literally smut sooo… 18+

afab!r

a/n: im havin fun with these ngl… if anything is repeated from the og hcs im sorry!!!! got carried away and some of my thoughts r sprinkled around here

MUNCHHHHHH

she gets off on eating you out i swear

nika got a pussy eater jaw too

i think its because you squeeze your thighs around her head

she likes it

i said this the last time but your pleasure matters more to her than her own

100% a titty girl like i can see it

LOVE LOVE LOVESSS THEM

like during sex she’ll cup them any chance she gets

an ass girl too

stares at em in public w no shame and grabs at your butt when she can 😭

veryyy vocal

lots of huffing and puffing when it comes to her

whiner and whimperer when she hears you getting more comfortable abt the noises you’re making

loves when you moan her name don’t even get me started

grunts too fosho

i think she’d talk in croatian too and it turns you AWNNNNNNNN

“ljubavi” “moj anđele” “dušo” “dobra cura”

dirty talks in croatian too but idk how to translate that.

she’d dom half of the time but if you wanna dom she’ll gladly oblige

strap game is crazy

totally does that thing where she teases you really slowly then js plunges into you

😩😩😩😫

never rough unless asked but if she’s angry or upset she’ll go WILLDDDDD

call me crazy but she’d def like it if you bit…

i think she’d be the hardest teaser ever

esp in public.

if you’re really feeling it when you two are out she can tell

its like her superpower

uses it against you too cs she doesn’t wanna let you get it easy

her fingers are running up and down your thighs and shes always getting sooo close it fucks you up every time

she gets you WET w one touch its actually crazy

if you were touch deprived it’d be even worse too like if she brushed her lips up against you and breathed on your skin js a lil you’d FREEAK

freak as in you’d be SOOOOAKKED

please tell me you guys think she’d wanna film sex tapes

JUST FOR YOU TWO ONLY THO

she a secret freak for those

i think arguments would lead into rlly fucking hot angry sex

but she initiates the intimacy first after bc she knows you’re def not gonna be in the mood to do so

honestly it starts w really small touches to the arm while you two yell back and forth

the next thing you know you two are fucking on the kitchen counter 😭

or she has to literally manhandle you onto the bed and fucks you there instead 🥸

uses the strap durin that too u can’t tell me otherwise

i think if you got really horny in public out of nowhere she’d take care of it for you IMMEDIATELYYYY

the family restrooms.

or the car

CAR SEX IS HER THINGGGGG ALSO

you guys could be in the car while on a roadtrip and she’ll find a way to sneak a hand onto you to make you feel good 🤫

def eats you out in the backseat too

say its your first time

definitely takes it as slowwww as you need her to be

offers to just use her hands or something first so that you get used to it

but if you wanna like go rlly far for the first time she’ll do it for sure as long as you’re comfy

she loves when you touch her abs it turns her on 😫

makes you ride em for sure cs she fucking loves when they’re glistening in your cum

makes you lick it up CLEAN after too w your tongue

WOW WHATS WRONG WITH ME OMG

she’s a switch

power bottom and soft dom

super slow when she tops you

but she lovesss when you’re riding her strap too its her fav thing next to the ab riding

ouhhhh she loves eye contact

her eyes r so beautiful like

they get all predatory when she’s fucking you its so sexy

also when she gives you the fuck me eyes i think she means it in the opposite way

meaning she wants to fuck you

cowgirl is her fav position don’tttt play

again shes a titty girl

she loves looking at them bounce.

she doesn’t bother to get fully undressed cause it shows she cares more about you

okay im done thanks.

#my works #nika muhl x reader #nika muhl #nika mühl #wcbb x you #wcbb x reader #wbb x you #wbb x reader

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merrybloomwrites · 25 days ago

Text

Good Girl

Summary: You love how sweet and kind and soft your boyfriend his. But every now and then, you love to bring out his rough side, which always leaves you more than satisfied.

Word Count: 1.7K

Content Warning: cockwarming, p-in-v sex, daddy kink, spanking (just 1 tho)

AN: I was going to do a Louis smut and a Niall comfort fic and then said, nah, I gotta switch that. So enjoy this pure Niall smut!

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Waking up in your plush king bed, you stretch before rolling over to cuddle up to your boyfriend.

So you’re most upset when you find that Niall is not there.

Last night had been perfect. He’d gotten home early, the two of you cooked a delicious meal together before falling into bed for a night of slow and gentle lovemaking.

So it’s no surprise that you wake up wanting more. Maybe a little something less slow and gentle. Like being pounded into the bed. That sounds like a wonderful time. You’d love some passionate and rough sex right about now.

The only thing missing? Your boyfriend.

Huffing out a breath you throw the sheets aside and stand up. You’re just in one of Niall’s large t-shirts and a pair of his boxers, but you don’t change before going downstairs. Maybe appearing like this will help you get what you want.

But Niall isn’t in the kitchen, or the living room, or anywhere on the first or second floors. Which leaves the basement. More specifically, the studio/office that’s down there.

And that, well that could throw a wrench in your plans. Because if Niall is in work mode, you don’t have much of a chance breaking him out of it. But you don’t let that deter you.

Heading back to the kitchen you start to make a plan. You grab some breakfast then go to the bathroom to freshen up before finally heading down to the basement.

Peaking your head into the office, you’re not surprised to see Niall at the desk. He seems to be answering emails, which works in your favor. If he’d been working on new music you’d probably be out of luck. He just gets too focused, and truthfully, the guitar would be quite in the way.

But sitting at the desk writing replies? That you can work with.

“Good morning,” you say as you enter, letting Niall know you’re there.

Immediately he turns, a large smile on his face as he says, “Morning, baby. Sleep okay?”

“I did. Could’ve woken up better, though.” You pout, giving Niall your best puppy eyes to really catch his attention.

“Aw, what’s wrong?” he asks, now sporting a pout of his own.

“I woke up and you weren't there.”

His joking pout now turns into a gentle smile as he reaches out to you. “C’mere,” he says and pulls you to sit in his lap sideways. His arms wrap around your waist and you rest your head on his shoulder, your face tucked into his neck.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I ignored these emails last night to get home to you but I can’t put them off any longer. I promise to come cuddle you as soon as I’m done,” he explains.

When you don’t reply right away Niall grows worried, unsure what’s going on in your mind. After some silence you finally say, “What if I didn’t want to cuddle?”

“Oh? Then what did you have in mind?”

Without hesitating you press a kiss to his neck and roll your hips down.

“Oh!” He says, now picking up on what you want. “Naughty girl, coming in here to distract me.”

“What are you gonna do about it? Punish me?” You lean back as you say this, your eyes meeting his, your eyebrows raised, challenging him.

“Yea, maybe I will. Bad girls deserve a punishment. But what should I do with you?” He pretends to think about it, already knowing what he wants. But he likes making you squirm, just a bit.

“You’ve caused me a bit of a problem,” he finally says. You look at him confused but then his hands go to your waist and he presses you down. You gasp as you feel his hard length press against your bum. “This will be quite distracting. I’d like you to keep me warm while I finish my work. How does that sound?”

A wave of desire rolls through you at that. He knows how much you love cockwarming, but it’s rare that the two of you do it. Normally once he’s inside of you, neither of you can hold back. But this is the perfect opportunity.

“That sounds like exactly what I need to learn my lesson,” you manage to reply.

“Good. Get me out and take off those pants,” he says. You stand up and remove the boxers you’re wearing and then your hands go to his waistband. You look at him for a second, waiting for a nod before lowering his sweats and underwear just enough for his cock to spring out. Just the sight of his dick, the perfect length and girth, has you dripping.

“Go on. Keep me warm,” he commands, and you move to straddle his lap. His hands stay on the armrests as you line yourself up and slowly sink down. His expression remains stoic, not giving away if he’s enjoying this at all. It drives you crazy, this uninterested act. It’s so unlike Niall, the man who normally praises you at all times. But it’s so perfect for this moment.

The shuddering breath he lets out once you’re completely seated on him is the only give away that he’s affected at all. He slides his chair forward and reaches around you to get back to his work. The only sound in the room is the tapping of keys.

You do your best to stay still, but the longer he works, the harder it is. You fidget, then clench around him, causing him to groan. He then lands a smack to your asscheek and says, “Be good and don’t move.”

Not wanting another reprimand you put all your focus on listening to him. But it’s so hard! He just feels so wonderful, filling you up so perfectly.

After what feels like forever, he stops typing and pushes the chair back from the desk.

“Look at me,” he says, and you move from where you’ve been hiding against his neck in order to meet his eyes once more. “Think you’ve learned your lesson?”

“Yes, daddy,” you reply. Niall takes a deep breath, that name affecting him deeply. It’s not one you use much, but he knows what it means. It means you want him to take charge, to take what he wants. You just want to give yourself to him.

“Hold on tight,” he says and you wrap your arms and legs around him. He places his hands under your bare bottom and, in an impressive show of strength, stands up with you still attached to him. He walks a few steps to the couch and lays you both down.

“Ready for a reward?” he asks, his blue eyes shining with excitement.

“I’m ready,” you reply. He quickly leans down, attaching his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. When he pulls back his eyes are soft, and he says, “If it’s too much just tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” you say. After this moment of softness, you watch his switch back to the rough persona he’s using right now. And it has another wave of arousal run through you. Niall's eyes close in pleasure, and you know he’s just felt a gush of wetness escape around his cock. That’s all he needs to start moving, setting a brutal pace from the first thrust.

He pounds in and out of you, hitting just the right spot and sending shocks through your body. Your mouth goes slack, your mind unable to form any words as pleasure continues to grow.

You’re both getting close, and Niall moves a hand to rub circles on your clit. He knows when you’re just about to come, and he leans down to say, “Be a good girl and come for me. Come for daddy.”

That’s all it takes to send you over the edge. You shout and arch your back, your toes curling as intense pleasure overtakes you.

“What a good girl, that’s it, ride it out, baby,” Niall says as she continues his thrusts inside you. It’s just when you start to come down that Niall picks up his pace even more, chasing his own high. The rough thrusts send you into a second orgasm before you’ve even recovered from the first, and this time, Niall is coming with you.

He bits down gently on your shoulder as he releases inside of you, his hips finally slowing. The two of you lay there a moment, breathing in each other's air as you try to catch your breath.

“I’m gonna pull out now, okay?” Niall asks, back to his sweet personality.

“Okay,” you reply quietly. You hiss as he pulls out, extra sensitive after everything that just happened.

“I know, baby, it hurts a bit, doesn’t it? I’m sorry lovie,” he says, and somehow just those words help ease the pain.

You finally come back to reality and look at the state of the two of you. Niall is still basically dressed and he tucks his now soft cock back into his sweats. He helps you pull down the shirt you’re wearing so that you’re covered as well, knowing how shy you get after.

“You alright?” he asks.

You give him a dazed smile and say, “So good. That was exactly what I needed. Did you like it?”

“Like it? Honey, I loved it. Absolutely amazing, you are.” You giggle and he leans in for a sweet kiss.

“C’mon. Let’s get cleaned up and then we can watch a movie together. It’s time for those cuddles I mentioned.”

Niall helps you stand and walk upstairs. He dotes on you, carefully helping you clean up in the shower and then keeps his promise of cuddles. You’re back in his arms, now resting together on a different couch while one of your favorite movies plays.

“I love you,” you say, needing him to know what you’re thinking right now.

“I love you too,” he replies.He holds you tighter and presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you melt into the embrace. You truly love him, love every side of him, especially the sides that are reserved only for you. His girlfriend, his love, his good girl.

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

AN: Thank you for reading! I have a request for virgin reader & fratboy Niall so I am working on that but if you have any Niall requests feel free to reach out!

#niall horan x reader #one direction x reader #one direction fanfiction

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vminizzle · 2 years ago

Text

needy

pairing : husband!jungkook x f.reader

genre : smut, fluffy tones?

warnings : slight dry humping, penetration, unprotected sex

words count : 0.9k

A/N : hi guys, as promised, here a little something. I’m sorry, I know it’s short but I really wanted to write something for y’all even tho i was busy.I know it’s not the best but yea. Let’s just say it’s a MESS! REMINDER : POOR ENGLISH. I hope you guys to spend a nice week. Take care of yourselves. Love you! -sunny

FEEDBACKS ARE WELCOMED :3

M RATED

Strong arms were enveloping you as you woke up from the little nap you decided to take an hour ago.

You wiggled a little to get out of the warm embrace as you wanted to go eat something.

Jungkook groaned as he tightened his grip around you.

You sighed laying your hand on top of his, that was placed on your tummy.

You let yourself relax into his arms, shifting a little to get more comfortable.

It was was all nice until you felt it, his bulge.

Jungkook was grinding his hard-on slowly against your back subconsciously in his sleep.

“y/n.” he breathed out lowly, his breath tickling your neck.

You closed your eyes, biting your bottom lip as he rubbed onto you.

“Jungkook.” you whispered hoping he would wake up.

No response.

“Kook.” you tried again caressing his forearm.

Goosebumps raised on his skin as your fingers kept on stroking his forearm slowly.

“Jungkook.” you said a bit louder this time.

Your husband groaned again but this time his hips stayed still and he left a lazy kiss on the back of your neck as he woke up.

“baby?” his voice deep and low.

You just wanted to moan at the sound and jump on him.

“keep going please.” he was confused until you pushed your bottom back on his bulge making him hiss at the friction.

Jungkook didn’t lose time as he turned your body around and kissed you slowly, his hands finding their places on your hips.

“were you so needy, you had to wake me up? huh my love?” you nodded eagerly, cheeks getting warm at his words.

He hovered above you, laying himself between your legs comfortably.

He grind his hips into yours again making you close your eyes at the pressure against your light covered clit.

"you like that, don’t you?”

“yes.” you breathed out.

Jungkook kissed your cheek, his fingers playing with the hem of your oversized shirt, slowly raising it a bit so he could see the thin panties you were wearing.

He touched you softly, his fingertips lightly grazing over your covered core making you raised your hips up into his hand.

“so sensitive.” he whispered more to himself.

“take your shirt off.”

“as you wish.” Jungkook took off his shirt, throwing it somewhere on the carpet.

Your hands immediately went on his strong chest, feeling the smooth skin.

“Can I?” his fingers ghosting over the waistband of you panties.

“yes.” you replied biting your lip.

He pulled the soft material down your legs, getting rid of his own clothes, releasing his erection.

“do you need prep-”

“no no it’s ok! hurry up!"

"so eager. ” he smirked teasingly.

You rolled your eyes, putting your arms around his neck pulling him down on you.

“tell me if anything wrong, ok?” you nodded as he penetrated you not so slow making you whimpered feeling the familiar stretch.

Jungkook checked on you making sure you’re fine.

“baby move please." you moaned out as he did what you wanted, his hips rolling slowly, thrusts getting a bit harder.

"baby you feel so good around me, fuck! so warm and tight.” he furrowed his eyebrows, the pleasure consuming him.

You gripped his bicep as you felt the knot in your stomach.

He bent down to capture your lips into a passionate kiss, before leaving kisses on your neck.

He sucked on the skin lightly, pulling the flesh between his teeth before looking into your eyes a small moan escaping from his throat as you clench around him.

"shit baby keep clenching around me like that. fuck.” he groaned before bending to bite your earlobe.

You threw your head back as he found your g-spot making you moaned loudly.

He kept on abusing that spot that could make you see stars, you walls convulsing uncontrollably around him.

"Jungkook fuck! I’m so close.” you panted the pleasure getting unbearable.

"got ya’ baby.” he muttered leaving a soft kiss on your temple, his hand travelling down between your bodies until it reached your bud of nerves.

He drew little circles on your clit making you arch your back off the couch.

The stimulation made you reach your high as you came around him. You closed your eyes shut, moaning his name loudly.

Jungkook couldn’t held it anymore as he pulled out before coming on your thighs.

"fuck.” he bit his bottom lip, staring at his warm release decorating your skin.

“Jungkook! you made a mess." you looked down at the cum dripping from your thighs onto the couch.

You looked back up at him, this one trying not to laugh.

You laughed along with him when he released a loud and cute laugh.

“I love you baby.” your husband caressed your lower stomach softly making you smile.

“I love you too.” you said before getting up slowly, your legs still a little shaky from the recent orgasm.

“I’m gonna take a bath."

“I’m coming with you.” he stood up abruptly, eager for whatever reason he got excited for, following you until you planted your hands on his firm chest stopping him in his track.

“huh huh. You. You’re gonna stay here and clean the mess you did there." you pointed toward the couch before pecking his lips softly and chuckling as you walked away, leaving the man speechless.

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st7rnioioss · 9 months ago

Text

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ arguments with bf!matt headcanons pt. 2

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: fluff, idk??😫 some are kiiind of suggestive, sorry i cant help it

a/n: hello hello, long awaited part 2😛 enjoy😇 i fell asleep btw HELP i’m so sorry i took so long

part 1

౨ৎ

- Wanting to sleep on the couch because you got into an argument? Not happening. Matt is picking you up when he’s sure you’re asleep, gently placing you in your shared bed, pulling you closer (angry cuddles - pt. 1). Even tho you’re still upset with each other, he’s not going to bed without you beside him.

- (suggestive!!) Matt noticed you had gotten jealous because he posted a picture with a past girlfriend. He’d laugh it off at first, laughing at your stern face, pulling you in to kiss you. He quickly made sure to show you how much he loves you. (as in spending the whole night in his room, making sure when you wake up tomorrow you’re sure he’s the only girl he could ever want).

- I can never imagine Matt fighting for real with his girlfriend. I feel like both of you would realise it was built up stress or tiredness and had nothing to do with each other. After yelling for a bit he’d pull you in for a hug, whispering ‘sorry’.

- (suggestive!!) If he’s cocky enough he’d have make-up sex with you. Soft, slow sex, whispering countless times how sorry he is and how much he loves you. He wouldn’t do this all the time as he prefers to talk it out. Getting to understand exactly what you’re feeling and why, and the other way around.

- Taking you on late night drives!! He’d pull you into the passenger seat even tho you protested, driving around town, maybe getting food, talking it out like this. You didn’t protest though, deep down this is one of your favourite ways to spend time with Matt.

- One time you had gotten so upset you left his house to go to your own, even tho you practically lived with the triplets. Friday rolled around, and Thursday night there was no car video recorded yet. Saturday morning you checked your phone, realising they hadn’t posted their Friday video. You got concerned, going to their house to find Nick and Chris in the living room.

‘Is everything alright? I noticed you guys didn’t post anything yesterday.’ you asked as you sat beside Nick, Chris looking up from his phone.

‘Yeah, Matt is fucking miserable. I don’t know, he said you guys got into an argument this Tuesday. He haven’t left bed.’ Chris mumbled, looking back down on his phone.

Immediately you sat up, finding Matt huddled up in his bed. There was dark, the curtains still shut, no light from his phone. You tiptoed closer, realising he was asleep. He looked peaceful, but you couldn’t help but feel guilty.

Your clothes was in Matt’s closet, taking a hoodie and a pair of pyjamas pants to cuddle up against Matt’s back. He must’ve waken up, because he mumbled a low ��is it you? y/n?’, turning his head.

‘Yeah, it’s me. I’m so so sorry, Matt.’ you smiled apologetically, caressing his cheek with your thumb. His expression softened, leaning in to kiss your lips.

‘God, I’ve missed that.’ he whispered, a smile tugging on his lips before he leaning in again.

- After having an episode like this (literally one time), he’d take you out the next day. You insisted it should be the other way around since you had been in the wrong, but Matt insisted on taking you (in reality he just wanted to be ‘friends again’).

- I CANT STOP MAKING SCENARIOS, BUT FOLLOW ALONG.

‘Matt, you’re annoying. Go away.’ I hissed, pushing Matt away from attempting to kiss me with a hand on his chest. I was keeping my gaze on my phone in front of me. I had moved to the couch after our tiny discussion.

‘Oh, come on. Are you still mad?’ Matt smirked, kind of amused by your reaction. It seemed like nothing to him, but you were pretending to be pissed.

‘You’re not funny. Move, I can’t see my phone.’ I pushed his head away. Matt stood up, looking at me for a second before returning to his room.

After a tiny hour, I felt my eyes getting droopy. It was scrolling mindlessly, my eyes half closed. I decided to stand up as my head was literally tilting to the side.

Almost falling over my own feet, I stumbled into Matt’s room, dropping to my knees onto his bed. ‘Someone changed their mind, hm?’ Matt teased, looking up from his phone.

‘Shut up.’ I mumbled, closing my eyes as my head hit his chest, cuddling up in his covers. I almost instantly fell asleep, the last thing I noticed being Matt turning off the light, pulling me closer with a kiss on the top of my head.

- If Matt had to leave early the next day after an argument, I’m so convinced he’d leave a small note or letter along with a flower (or two) on the kitchen counter

a/n: if you couldn’t tell, i was running out of ideas🤩

taglist: @chrissgirlsstuff @leah-loves-lilies @toriinie @cupidzsq @lacysturniolo @iluvmattyb @ratatioulle @emma4eva @riasturns @sstvrnioloo @sweetbabydoe @elliewrites1 @its-jennarose @abbypost let me know if you'd like to be added!

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eros-ghoulette · 5 months ago

Note

Can you write something about Aether finding his place in the ministry after being a band ghoul for so long? I miss my man :(

(if not that's chill tho)

Five weeks.

Aether has reasons to retire, but it's still hard to do so. (Aether has anxiety)

Characters: Aether, Omega, Delta

Word count: 1450

One week.

One week since the band had left the abbey, and Aether looked up at the sky, stars reflecting in the dark purple of it; a galaxy of its own. The brightest star shone white in the black of the night, spending light in the hours of darkness.

There was a sigh, barely audible, and the quint looked down at his hands. While the stars were among others, he was alone. It had been the right decision to quit playing in the band, and still… the question remained. It haunted him more often than not and made him feel bad when happiness should reign. Was he wrong? Was the decision, his decision, the wrong one? Should he be there, on the road, on the stage? Was Phantom really ready to bear such a role?

And there it was… the anxiety he had hoped to cure by stepping down, by giving his place to the young one, it was back. And it hurt.

The last tour had made Aether feel the real impact of being in a band. He had started to doubt himself, counted every mistake, and overthought every action and movement. His joints started to hurt for hours after a show, the small bunks in the bus not helping at all.

It had been the right thing to retire.

But the anxiety wasn’t gone. It had been, for the time he was at home and with the others, and then a few days more. And now he couldn’t even pinpoint the reason for it. The point was, he was alone and felt helpless, and there was nothing he could do about it.

* * *

Two weeks.

Two weeks since the band had left the abbey, and Aether looked down at the phone in his hands. Pictures from the latest ritual Dew had sent him. The quint felt his chest tighten and put his phone aside.

“Do you want to help me in the infirmary today?”

Omega stood in the door, arms crossed over his chest, but his gaze was soft. The older ghoul knew Aether was feeling alone, lost even. He saw the younger’s face, watched it for days now, and he knew he had to do something. In times of turmoil, when the brain screamed, and the heart throbbed, in times like these, it was hard. And everything ached because the mental exhaustion couldn't keep up and transferred to the muscles and joints; so it would hurt less. To spread the pain on everything instead of keeping it in one place. But that’s not how it worked. That’s how physics worked, not creatures. And instead of making it less, it just got less bearable.

“Alpha said he has better things to do than do my paperwork every day,” Omega added with a smirk. “And no, I don’t want you to do my paperwork. You could help with the patients while I do the paperwork.”

Truth be told, Aether had no real desire to do anything today. But he also had no intention of turning the other’s request down and nodded.

“Sure,” he simply said, and stood up from the table. Aether had breakfast half an hour ago, but the energy to actually get up hadn’t been there. Now he had a reason to stand up. His phone slipped into his pocket as he walked next to Omega.

* * *

Three weeks.

Three weeks since the band had left the abbey, and Aether lay in his bed; awake. He had trouble sleeping, not much but enough to keep him up till late night. The quint guessed the reason for it was his desperate need for touch. He longed for it, every cell of his body wanting it so badly it overwhelmed him.

He could go to Ifrit and Zephyr, those two would most likely welcome him with open arms, but Aether felt like a burden at the bare thought of it. It’s not that he wanted sex, he wanted affection. Quiet words of praise, whispered in the night, almost just breathed and filled with soft tenderness. Physical affection, a body to hold, warm limbs intertwined with his, hands to stroke his belly and lips to kiss his forehead.

And still… That longing was hard to overcome when there was no one to give such affection. But his mind got calmer this past week, his body ached less, and his heart throbbed not so much anymore when he thought of his pack. The work in the infirmary was good. He talked much with Omega and Alpha often came by to join them. The tall fire ghoul may claim he hated paperwork, but he still helped when he could.

* * *

Four weeks.

Four weeks since the band had left the abbey, and Aether cried. Choked sobs left his throat, making it burn. Tears, unshed for too long, wetting his cheeks, seeping into his shirt. His hands trembled, body shaking, and he forced himself to breathe; just breathe. One rattling breath after another; in and out. And after minutes that felt like an eternity, he managed to stop.

A knock.

He flinched and listened. Breathe in… another knock. Breathe out.

“It’s open.” The quint’s voice was hoarse, nothing like his usual self. But whoever stood in front of his door would come in nonetheless, so why try to act tough?

And when the door opened, he scoffed at the ghoul that greeted him. Delta was no one he talked to often. It wasn’t that he didn’t like him, they just had no real connection with each other.

“I passed by and heard you,” the other explained. “Sorry if I’m uhm… I could leave if you like.” An awkward smile formed on his lips, and he looked incredibly unsure of himself.

Aether shook his head.

“No, you can stay,” he answered before he could think of anything else. There was a fondness in Delta’s gaze that made Aether trust him enough. And maybe he wanted it, he wanted someone to comfort him. Someone he wouldn’t need to search out for, someone that came by themselves, and here he was. Delta was here.

“May I sit?” the older one asked and pointed at the corner of the bed.

Aether nodded.

Delta moved, and the mattress dipped under his weight. He wasn’t looking at the younger.

“I know how you feel,” he began. “At least I think I do, kinda.”

Aether stayed quiet.

“You know? Your anxiety is smellable to everyone, but most just… don’t know what to do. Your pack would know I guess, but they aren’t here, so… I had the same problem, or I still have the problem from time to time.” He shrugged and sighed. “It gets better. You probably feel better even now after this… breakdown.”

“Mhh,” Aether made. He actually felt kinda better.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t bottle it up. But we all do that, and you won’t stop just from my saying. And I’m obviously not good at all this,” Delta chuckled a bit. “But how about I just stay here for a while, and we get to know each other?”

* * *

Five weeks.

Five weeks since the band had left the abbey, and Aether laughed at a joke Omega made while they cleaned up the infirmary room together. His phone rang, and Aether looked at it to find new pictures from his pack, Dew had sent.

And while it was still kinda sad that he was here, and they were there, he was sure now it had been the right decision. Talking to Delta and working with Omega made him happy. Last night, Delta had cuddled with him, and the desperate need for touch had been gone for those hours. Three days ago, Alpha and he had played guitar together, and it had been fun.

“Can you do the paperwork today?” The puppy eyes Omega could pull were hard to resist, and Aether rolled his eyes.

“Can you get me a sandwich for lunch?” he asked back and received a grin.

“On my way,” Omega saluted playfully and left the infirmary.

Aether sat behind the desk, humming a song. He was in a good mood, a great mood. The tightness in his chest was gone, and his mind stayed quiet. There were moments he thought it all might return, but even then… he now knew he wasn’t alone, he wasn’t lost. He was here, and his pack was there, but they would return, and he would still be here. The infirmary needed him, and he needed the tasks it set. And while he had that, he would be fine. It could be hard, but he had friends to rely on, and that was enough. This was his place now, a damn good one.

__________

I really hope this whole thing here is understandable 💀

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

#aether ghoul #omega ghoul #delta ghoul #the band ghost #ghost band #ficlet #eros writing #projecting on characters is my favourite thing to do btw

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oh-katsuki · 1 year ago

Text

bird of prey (tendou x reader)

series masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Tendou x Reader, Bokuto x Reader

Series Summary: Satori Tendou is your best friend, but you fuck for fun.

Chapter Title: Act I, Scene 1 — Play Like Lovers

Chapter Summary: Satori likes your current arrangement. You're friends, arguably the best of friends, and sometimes you fuck. Well, it's more than sometimes. Like rabbits, really.

Chapter Content Warnings: afab!reader, college au, friends with benefits, no strings attached, angst, oral sex (m!receiving), teasing, bokuto is in this too, ushijima mentions, mentions of breeding, mentions of pregnancy, slowish burn (?) they're already fucking tho so romantically speaking, teasing, dirty talk

Word Count: 6.7k

A/N: i missed tendou and ended up deciding to write this. i don't have any chapters prewritten so updates will likely be slow, but im trying out a new thing so bear with me. it's probably better read on ao3, but im posting it here too. formatting is the bane of my existence. enjoy <3

next >

Satori likes the cold. He always has. He likes the bite of it. The way it makes his skin feel when he’s been standing outside long enough that the cold begins to feel hot across his cheeks.

There’s a certain solitude to winter that Satori appreciates. It’s as if the world has had a blanket thrown over it and everything becomes muffled and quiet. Sometimes winter makes Satori feel like he’s on another planet, floating through a silent universe in a perpetual winter. He especially feels this way when it snows. He loves the world when it’s like this, calm and quiet and so hazy that he can’t see the street sign a block down.

Satori blinks winter from his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows as they begin to water to fight the cold. He inhales, tucking his hands further into his puffy jacket as the crisp air fills his lungs. It’s a quiet night. The first snowy one of the season, and snowflakes fall like little diamonds onto a thinly coated sidewalk.

He doesn’t have a particular destination in mind. Satori is just wandering, savoring the feel of the evening as he strolls through his neighborhood. There are a scant few people outside. It's a weeknight and the neighborhood surrounding campus is eerily quiet in these small hours of the morning. Only the occasional drunk or a couple loved up and leaning on one another, their hands intertwined in the pockets of one of their coats.

Tendou thinks that he could only become one of those two options. The drunk seems to have far less to worry about, stumbling across the sidewalk before coming to a stop on a slanted curve and letting his head fall onto his crossed arms. Not that Satori would want to be him. Don’t get him wrong. He’s not judging. How one man lives his life is absolutely none of Satori’s business and, in the same way he prefers people don’t mind what he does, he won’t mind what the neighborhood drunk does. Still, on a sliding scale of difficulty, the drunk seems to—for the moment—have it easier in Satori’s eyes. Only one person to worry about.

It’s nearing three in the morning and the world has taken on an eerily slanted feel to it. Satori likes the world like this, calm and quiet. No one to talk to or worry about, only the sound of his boots against the thin layer of snow. There’s no crunch, as it hasn’t stuck yet, but if it keeps snowing like this, Satori thinks that it might. He looks forward to it, tilting his head up toward the sky and feeling the soft sting of bitter cold snow as it falls on his cheeks.

—

Teeth, tongue, the press of your body arching up to meet his. It’s hot today, the way you move. Rushed like you’re trying to get something done. Music plays quietly from your computer on the desk and your hands fumble blindly around his body, eyes screwed shut as you let your tongue explore the inside of his mouth.

“You’re eager,” he coos, detaching himself from your lips.

“Sh, sh, sh,” you mumble, pulling him back down to you by the back of his neck and delivering a sloppy kiss. “Keep your voice down.”

“Why?” He asks back, still connected at the lips.

“My housemates don’t know you’re here,” you answer, pushing on his shoulders.

Tendou gives in, letting you turn him over on the bed so that his back is against your headboard. You settle over his hips evenly, placing yourself like you belong there. He wouldn’t be surprised if you felt that way. This is regular enough that you end up like this a lot. Straddling his thighs with your hands on either side of his face.

You tilt your head, kissing your way down his jaw. Your lips press onto the side of his neck and he can feel the way your tongue darts out to taste the salt on his neck. Your hands roam freely up the other side of his neck and across the back of his head, almost like you can’t feel enough of him fast enough. They raised goosebumps along his skin, teasing the parts your mouth isn’t touching.

“And I don’t really want them to find out,” you say into his neck. Tendou feels the hum in his collarbone and shutters.

“And why’s that?” He breathes out, his lithe fingers coming up to pull your hips down against him. Tendou figures that if you’re going to rock your hips back and forth like that, you might as well do it like you mean it.

“They’ll give me shit for hooking up with you all the time instead of getting a real date,” you answer through your breathing. “Something about self respect.”

Tendou leans his head back against the headboard, looking at you over the tops of his cheeks. You’ve pulled up his shirt and your body is curled over itself, your mouth smearing down his heaving chest as far as your posture will let it go.

He supposes that’s fair.

“Suppose you haven’t told them that the no strings attached thing is mutual?” He teases, tilting his head to the side to let you continue to kiss at his neck.

He slides his fingers under the fabric of your sleep shirt, cool fingertips hitting your warm back. Tendou presses his palm flat on your lower back and you shiver away from him, pushing your chest up against his. He likes the way you move. Something about it scratches an itch he’s got. Like watching marbles in a chain reaction.

“I have,” you say, reaching between the two of you to undo his pants. Tendou slips his fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants, cupping your ass in his hands. “They just don’t believe me.”

“Hah,” he laughs, tilting his chin forward to kiss you again. He likes the way you taste. “That’s funny.”

“Ugh, can we like,” you pull away from him, your eyes glazed over and your eyebrows furrowed. You keep one hand on the back of his neck, the other splayed on his chest and Tendou idly rolls the fat of your ass across his fingertips.

“Can we like, what?” He imitates through a grin, tilting his head. “Not talk about this?” You say, rolling your hips. “Because I really want to fuck you right now and it’s sort of killing my vibe.”

Tendou chuckles at the way you drop your head and roll your hips against him, tipping his head back again as he lets out a low groan.

“If it means we get to fuck then sure thing,” he drawls, guiding your hips over his crotch by the fat of your ass.

You groan, exposing the hollow of your throat to him as you lean backwards. Tendou leans up to meet you, placing his lips near your pulse point. He bites down on your neck lightly and savors the slight gasp you let out, salving the ache with a quick swipe of his tongue. You cling to him like velcro, rocking your hips over his hardened cock through your clothes. It’s so desperate that it’s almost juvenile, though you’re both well past the phase of being too prudish to not take them off.

He sighs, sliding his hands from your ass and up your back. He cups your shoulders around your body, letting you move your hips against him. Tendou finds that he likes to let you do what you want. There’s really nothing you can’t take from him and as far as he’s concerned, nothing’s off limits. He’s playing a game and right now, letting you win is the most interesting option.

You reach between them to pick up where you left off, fumbling in his pants to palm at him over his boxers, still rocking your hips against the inside of your wrist. Satori groans lightly at the weight of your hand. He likes it. His dick just fucking fits.

You slide your hand back and forth, teasing him the way that you know he likes it. God, in moments like these, Satori is convinced that you’re perfect. You and that perfect body, that perfect fucking pussy. All of it just sort of clicks.

The sexual chemistry between the two of you is palpable. It really always has been. Even when the two of you swore up and down that you were just friends, Satori knew that eventually you’d fuck. And of course, he was right. Months later and here he is, leaning up against your headboard after sneaking in through the window while you give him an over-the-boxers handjob that feels better than what he can do to himself for some reason.

You need it almost every night, and if it isn’t every night, it’s at least three times a week. You’re always together anyways, might as well throw some heavy petting into the mix while you’re at it. That’s just as well with Tendou. Personally, he’s always willing to fuck you if you need it. Especially when you need it. You just get this pretty look in your eye. It’s a lot like the one you’re wearing now, mouth slightly open as you free him from his boxers and swipe the precum from the tip of his dick with your thumb. Satori shudders. It’s perfect.

“If you’re going to fuck me, you should just do it,” he says, his face contorting slightly as you grip his cock in your hand and begin to shift backward between his legs.

“Shut up,” you retort, looking at him through your lashes. “I know you love this shit.”

“Yeah, fuck-” he groans as you take the tip of him into your mouth. “You’re right. I love a tease.”

Good conversation. Good sex. A good friend. There’s really nothing more he could ask for.

Satori brushes the hair from your face, holding it back on your forehead so that he can see the way your mouth takes him in. It’s soft and warm and you hollow your cheeks around his cock in a way that drives him insane. You look so pretty down there. So giving and malleable. And get this, you do it because you like it. God, how fucking sexy.

He likes the way you look from this angle, your eyebrows knitted together and your ass up in the air. He can see the way you rub your thighs together, small pulses that tell him that when he finally gets down there, you’re going to be soaked. You feel good too. Soft skin, soft mouth.

Satori lets out a groan, reaching forward to play with the meat of your ass. He kneads the skin there, rubbing his thumb back and forth against it as if he were just trying to feel it. It hides your face from him for a moment and Satori is sad for the loss, but your ass is soft and giving and you push it back against his hand like you like the way he touches you. Of course you do, Satori only touches you in ways he knows you’re going to like. It gets him off.

You swirl your tongue around his cock, your other hand gripping the base of him and moving along with your mouth. When you do try to take him all the way in, you cough lightly around it, raising your head to catch your breath before lowering your mouth back down. His lower stomach ties itself into knots. That familiar swell begins to mount in him and his muscles tense against his will. Your mouth works him until that slow moving wave pushes against whatever barrier it needs to break for him to finish.

You stop before he gets to cum and Satori feels that swell of pleasure recede into the back of his gut. He pouts momentarily, his chest heaving as you discard your sweatpants and crawl back over him.

Satori places his hand over your cunt like it's a habit. He rubs over your slick folds with four fingers, evening applying pressure across your whole pussy because he knows that it frustrates you. In response, you let out an exasperated groan and grind down against his hand. That only makes it better when he finally centers in on your clit, two fingers dipped between your lips to rubbing at the throbbing bud.

He plays with it for a moment, moving his fingers in a continuous circle. You’re so wet that Satori doesn’t even need to lick his fingers, but he does anyway because he wants to taste you. Slowly, he raises them to his lips and sucks your pleasure off of them, eyeing you while he does so. Then, he places his other hand on your chin and gently forces your mouth open, sliding his two fingers across your tongue.

The muscle gives under the weight of his fingers. Pleasantly, delightfully, you let him mold you. You let him open your mouth further and stick them deeper—all the way into the warm, wet back of your mouth—until you gag around them. It’s an awful sound. Wet and desperate and it leaves you panting when he pulls them out, but Satori likes you messy. He likes you when you’re drooling for it, saliva pooling under your tongue for just a taste of what he gives you.

Don’t get him wrong, it’s not a power trip thing. It’s borne out of pure fascination. Like the way scientists like to study molecules, Satori likes to study you. You’re interesting to him. The first to follow through on sex only being sex because Satori—well, Satori fucks you like he loves you. And he loves that you don’t get caught up in it.

You’re desperate for it today. Satori can tell because you don’t even let him finger you before you’re guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance.

“What? No condom?” He drawls through a sly grin.

“Not tonight,” you pant, screwing your eyes shut. Satori’s hands move to your hips, squeezing the fat there and admiring its delightful give. “Don’t have one.”

“What ever happened to safe sex?” He says through gritted teeth, craning his neck forward to get a good view.

“You worried you gonna get me pregnant?” you give a breathy laugh, sinking all the way down on him.

“Depends, you gonna let me finish inside?” he asks through a locked jaw as he feels the warmth of you envelop him.

“Fuck no,” you say, beginning to move your hips.

Satori inhales through his teeth, leaning backwards and holding you by the hips. You take the lead tonight, rolling your hips forward with slow, almost calculated, flicks. He guides you, his fingers gripping at the side of your ass, pulling it apart as best he can. He likes the way it feels when he holds you like this and wonders briefly what it looks like from the back when he lets you fuck him like this.

The music from your laptop is drowned out by the quiet sounds of your breathing. The only thing Satori really hears is the both of you, stifling moans to prevent your housemates from figuring out what you’re up to. He grits his teeth.

Satori has always been on the more vocal side of things. Talking, moaning, laughing, things like that. This though, this is hot too. Like this, he can hear every little change in your breathing. He can hear every time he hits that particularly sensitive spot inside of you. Shit, he can even hear his own breathing, labored and low and mirroring your desperation like you’re both cut from the same cloth.

He loves being inside of you. It’s comfortable. It always feels good in a way Satori has found is hard to come by. You’ve got a good pussy and an even better attitude about it.

When you get close, you always take in a sharp and fast inhale. It’s like a tell. Something that gives away just how good you feel. Satori loves the sound of it. Sometimes, he’ll edge you three or four times just to hear it, just to savor that sweet intake of breath. Tonight though, he’s going to let you have it easy. You deserve to have it easy tonight, as desperate as you are, and this is fun for him too. This position makes it easy to feel just how tight you get when you’re close, pussy clamping down around him at a fast interval even with the upward pumps of his hips.

He’s too impatient to let you fuck him on your own. Satori lets you have it your way, but he wants it his way too, accenting the roll of your hips with subtle pumps. He grips your hips, his fingers sinking delightfully into the fat there and holds you at a good enough angle to fuck. The weight of your breath comes heavy, that little accent and then a slow crawl from your lungs. You shudder, mouth falling open. And Satori, well Satori watches. In fascination, in awe, in sheer pleasure.

“Oh shit,” you breathe, glancing at him. “Yeah, yeah.”

Oh, he loves that. Those little nothings that you babble when you’re breathless and climbing towards that high. Satori can’t get enough of it. Your voice, the cadence of it, how heavy it sounds on your tongue when you force out the sex-laced words.

You crumble quickly. It’s almost desperate the way you push your hands onto his chest and let your head fall forward, cunt clenching down hard around him as you stop the roll of your hips to shudder. Your thighs press harshly against Satori’s sides and he digs his fingers into your hips to keep from cumming inside of you. That’d be pretty bad, though he can’t say that it’s not endlessly tempting.

You don’t waste a moment pulling yourself off of him, wrapping your hand around is cum-slicked cock and beginning to pump. You squeeze the head of it and Satori lets out a low groan. God, you’re being so quick about this that it would almost be jarring if Satori didn’t find it so fucking hot. You’re like… desperate for it. Christ, he thinks he’s gonna cum.

“Can I finish on your face?” He grits out.

“No,” you reply, teasing him by pressing your thumb over the head of his dick. “On your chest. I like it when you make a mess of yourself.”

Then, a familiar, teasing smile lights up across your face. Your breath is still heaving and it makes the expression feel more genuine. Satori leans his head back against the headboard eyebrows pulled upwards in his pleasure.

“You’re fuckin’ sadistic,” he laughs out.

It’s half a groan, his voice strained and thick with his imminent high. He reaches up to toy with your tits, anything really that he can grab. Satori gets handsy when he’s close and he feels the way pleasure mounts in his lower stomach like water fills a bucket.

Then, he peaks, his cum spilling out over his chest. Satori makes an effort to muffle his voice when he does, gritting his jaw and squeezing the flesh of your tit as an outlet for the pleasure of it all. The mess he’s made is warm, spilling into the ridges of his abdomen and the soft lines of muscle there.He’ll have to shower again when he gets home. For the moment though, he just watches his chest heave as you let go of his dick and reach to put two of your messy fingers in his mouth. Satori obliges, swirling his tongue around them.

“Hah, you’re disgusting.”

“You’re the one who likes it, sweetheart,” he drones, reaching to take some tissues from the nightstand and wipe up his mess.

“Throw those in the bin,” you say, laying down on your bed as he stands.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Satori stretches for a moment, inspecting his clothes to ensure that the mess was minimal. He turns to look at you on the bed. Your eyes are closed, arms above your head with your sleep shirt riding up on your body, revealing a small glimpse of your fleshy stomach. God, he almost wants to fuck you again.

“Move over,” he says, bullying his way into the bed next to you.

“Fine, but you can’t stay for long,” you reply, lifting your head and putting it back down on his chest. You face the ceiling, picking at your nails. “I gotta shower and finish up a paper.”

“You have a paper to finish but you called me over to fuck?”

“Duh,” you reply. “Needed some sort of stress relief.”

“Most people just eat a bowl of cereal or something,” he says through a smile, his lips curling up in the corners.

You huff and roll your eyes, letting out a short and genuine laugh. “Whatever, you just can’t stay too long, ‘kay?”

“You got it,” he chuckles, rolling his eyes lightly.

Satori tucks his arm under his head, watching your ceiling fan as it spins in circles. He hates the ceiling in your room. You’ve got popcorn ceilings, something that Satori is particularly disdainful of. It’s why he likes having you over at his place, with its smooth and well painted walls. Plus, you can fuck as loud as you want and there’ll be no one there in the morning to hound you both over it.

You can’t stay for long.

He never really understood why you always tell him that. Even without it, Satori never really does.

—

Satori’s morning routine isn’t really a routine at all. On days where he has nothing to do, he rolls out of bed at whatever time he pleases. Sometimes that’s 12 in the afternoon and other times that’s 5:30 in the morning.

He tries his best to avoid early morning classes. Truthfully, he tries his best to avoid classes at all, but hey, when you’re getting a degree, that’s not really an option. Satori’s been relatively successful in that endeavor, keeping most of his class schedule well within the 11 am to 4 pm range, except for one pesky little discussion. Once a week, on Tuesdays, Satori has to drag himself out of bed and be in the classroom at 8 am sharp.

It’s not that he isn’t driven, or isn’t a morning person. Satori just isn’t a rules person, which doesn’t exactly function well within a societal structure. There are always rules. Ones that tell you when to cross the road, where to park your car, when to be somewhere or when not to be somewhere. The fact that he has to get up early on Tuesdays makes him needlessly resistant to getting up, even if he’s awake already.

Satori blinks away sleep in the quiet of his room. He’s woken up about fifteen minutes before his 6:50 alarm and now stares blankly at the ceiling with his arms tucked behind his head. What a drag, getting up like this and going immediately into the daily slog, not that anything can be done about it.

He inhales, preparing himself to sit up, before actually doing so. His muscles scream at him, sore with sleep and aching for a good stretch which he gladly obliges with a loud yawn. Cartoonish, almost. Satori laughs to himself as he pulls his body from the bed.

His room is messy. Clothes are strewn about haphazardly across the floor and various items that he’d picked up to mess around with are out of place. He exhales, shaking his head a little bit and telling himself that he’ll clean it when he gets back. It’s not that he minds the mess. In fact, Satori likes a little organized mess. Like what you and him are doing. That’s messy in the most delightful way. But right now, his room is a little too messy, verging on the precipice of dirty, which Satori hates.

He tosses on a soft, long-sleeved t-shirt. It’s the kind of shirt that he’s had for a long while, the ones that feel smooth on his skin. The fabric is so worn that it falls over him almost like tissue paper and he loves the feeling. His black jeans are hanging over the back of his desk chair and he grabs them quickly, shrugging them on over his hips with two quick steps and a pull. The ink on them is faded and though they started their life black, they are now almost a dark gray and look even lighter at the knees and backs of the thighs. He thinks he’ll have to get a new pair soon. Gray doesn’t look as nice with other colors as black does.

The sink in his bathroom is nearly empty, save for one single face wash, his toothbrush, and some toothpaste. He uses all of them in that order, hardly glancing up to look at himself in the mirror except to fix his scraggly long hair. He fiddles with it for a moment, running his fingers through minor tangles that worked themselves into his hair while he slept, before deciding that it looks good enough. The rest of it will sort itself out during the day and fall flat.

His dish is in the sink from the night before and he briefly loads it into the dishwasher and runs it, chiding himself mentally with an eye roll for not doing it the night before. There’s always a 50/50 chance in the morning that Satori has forgotten to run the dishwasher and it antagonizes him as much as anything can antagonize Satori, which really isn’t much.

There’s a black puffer jacket hanging by the door of his modest apartment. It’s a size too big for him, but it’s warm and looks nice on his figure, so he sees no use in telling his mother that she’d gotten the wrong size. It was a gift from her at the beginning of the winter season last year, along with a hat that Satori never wears. The jacket, at the very least, gets some use on account of it suiting his own personal style.

He’s grateful for it when he steps outside of his apartment, shrugging it closer to him as the familiar bite of winter rushes up and under his skin. The sun has only just risen and the world is cast in a familiar orange, pink, and purple glow that makes it feel like a painting. Satori doesn’t mind being out in the world when it’s still asleep. Especially not in the early morning hours just before the sun comes up, when the world is cast in blue as if it were covered in film. Today though, it’s late enough that the world is now wide awake and the bustle of it gives Satori a headache.

He passes businessmen on their way to work, girls in school uniforms rushing to make it through the gate of their school on time, their loafers smacking the floor with a delightful and intrusive clicking sound. His campus is only a few blocks away, around two corners and a straight shot until he hits the main building. He got lucky with his apartment’s location and sacrificed nice amenities for its proximity to his classes. The apartment itself may be crap, but Satori finds it worthwhile for how near it is to the things he cares about. That, and it doesn’t have popcorn ceilings, thank god.

The snow hasn’t stuck yet, which means that the sidewalk is damp with melting ice as the sun begins to warm the pavement beneath it. His shoes will get damp like this. The converse do little to repel the water, instead soaking it in like a sponge. He’s careful to avoid puddles, but should he hit one, Satori won’t dwell. They’ll dry at some point.

He can see the school up ahead. Satori isn’t really a fan of the building style. They’re stuffy and a bit reminiscent of the industrial buildings just outside of the Sendai city limits, but Tohoku University is a good school and Satori thinks it would have been a waste to not accept his admission. As the buildings grow closer, Satori can see the bodies of students wandering. Some talk in small groups and others, the more independent of them, walk hurriedly to their classes with heavy backpacks slung over both shoulders. Their backs curl forward a little, feeling the pressure of the weight.

Right through the quad, through the double doors, and up to the second floor. That’s the path Satori needs to take to get to his classroom, though he’s about 10 minutes early. He pauses just outside of the building, tilting his head to the side as he spots a familiar silhouette. A smile creeps onto his face, lips curling in the corners as he recognizes you.

You’re having a conversation with someone, though Satori can’t quite make out who exactly it is. They’re standing partially behind one of the trees, their broad figure concealed by the trunk of it. As he approaches, he recognizes the other person to be Bokuto Koutarou, one of the core members of the university’s volleyball team. What an odd pair to be seen together, and so early in the morning too. Then, Bokuto leans down and pecks you on the cheek and Satori is more confused than he’s been in a while. When did you get close? When did you start seeing him?

A pit forms in his stomach, though not the kind he’s familiar with. Messy, messy.

“Bokuto, huh?” he says as he approaches behind you, watching with you as the other man walks away. “When did you and him get so… close.” He drags out the last word, hissing out the S through a small smile.

“That,” you start, “is none of your business. It just sort of happened.”

Satori gives you a coy smile, tilting his head in your direction.

“Does he know?” He questions genuinely.

“Know what?”

“About us,” he croons, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

You give him a pointed glance, an eyebrow raised. He knows the look. It’s the one you give him when he’s said something stupid or far too obvious.

“We,” you emphasize, “are friends.”

“Oh yeah,” he nods, tucking his hands into his pockets and leaning back as he follows your step. “We’re really good friends. And we fuck for fun.”

You laugh. It’s a shrill laugh, and totally comfortable. He can’t see an ounce of tension in your shoulders and they’re relaxed in the way they usually are when the two of you speak. Satori looks down at you over the tops of his cheeks and a sly grin spreads across his face.

“Well,” you say, though it seems to not have any real purpose in your sentence. It’s almost like an admittance that he’s right, which he knows he is. “What does it matter if he knows, anyway? What’s there to know?”

Satori stops walking, his hands buried deep into his pockets. His head hangs forward and his jaw is open in faux confusion. The strain in his neck posing like this is worth the smile you give him, he thinks.

“That we fuck,” he states, saying it almost as if it’s a shock to him as well.

You stop to roll your eyes and Satori quite likes the way that the expression looks on you. Fed up, but pleasantly so. It gives your features a somewhat light, carefree sense. You look away from him for a moment, almost as if to accentuate just how nonsensical his manner of speaking is, before looking at his face and narrowing your eyes. You size him up and then give a small grin, almost mischievous in nature.

“He suspects,” you say. “But it doesn’t seem like he thinks too hard about it. I think he might if we were like… ex’s or romantically involved, but we’re not, so,” you shrug your shoulders. “Besides, it’s not serious enough for him to mind yet.”

“Yet?” Satori raises his eyebrows and gives you an incredulous smile.

Despite his demeanor, he feels something odd. It’s almost like his stomach is about to drop, and an unsettling feeling of dread begins to loom over him. You turn to look at him over your shoulder, impossibly pretty eyes giving him a very square look in the face.

“Yet,” you confirm, your tone a bit sharp as if to warn him that he’s stepping too close to the line.

He’s not sure what he’s done to warrant that kind of reaction. Satori thought that he’d come off rather disconnected, aloof in the way that your agreement is, but it’s entirely possible that he’d sounded insecure. He furrows his brows at you, almost like he’s confused himself, and then shrugs in a non committal way.

“Right,” he says, beginning to spin on his heel in an exaggerated manner. “Well, you have fun with Mr. Center-Of-Campus,” he smiles, continuing his sentence,” and I… will be going to my photography lab discussion.”

“You do that,” you laugh, putting up a hand to wave. “I’ll catch you later.”

“I’m sure you will,” he says, to which you respond by giving him a tired look and a shrug, like you’re admitting to the implication that you just can’t go without it. It being whatever the hell kind of sexual relationship exists between you two.

Neither he nor you turns behind to glance at the other. Satori starts off back in his original direction and you dip into the building next to his. He’s sure that if he looked, you’d have your fingers looped through the straps of your backpack, probably greeting someone or other that you know on campus.

You’re popular in a way that Satori isn’t. Truthfully, Satori is more notorious than liked and people know him for his strange, roundabout way of speaking and the knowing look in his eye. It doesn’t bother him to think that. He’s heard the way people talk about him, either directly from you or from walking up to a conversation a few moments too early. It doesn’t suit anyone to pretend that he doesn’t know and he doesn’t really mind knowing. It helps to weed out the people he wants to be around versus the people he doesn’t.

You, however, are very well liked. Sociable and blunt in your way of speaking. People like being around you, not just because you’re easy to look at, but because you’ve got a casual demeanor about yourself that makes people feel unjudged and at ease. It’s actually one of the first things that Satori had ever noticed about you, the way that you settle into a conversation as if you’d always been meant to be a part of it. No need to switch subjects or guide it to a more suitable position, you seem to blend effortlessly into social scenes, whether you notice it or not. Maybe it’s because you’re very true to yourself. You don’t recognize yourself as a perfect person and, as a result, you never hold the expectation that someone else should be perfect.

Satori thinks you’re like-minded in that way, though his interpretation of other people’s flaws is more rooted in his treatment by others. People are quick to judge and in all his years of being judged, Satori has just come to accept that that’s the way things are and he can’t blame humans for simply being human. Still though, he has the same idea that people’s flaws aren’t a reason for judgment. They just… exist and that’s fine.

He slides into a desk along the wall, quickly glancing around the room at the people who have already filed in. He’s only a few minutes early and most of his class are already in their seats with their cameras on their desk. Satori doesn’t know many people in this discussion and the majority of his class is either made up of girls that are too afraid to introduce themselves, or pretentious boys who spend too much time thinking about what tortured artists they are and too little time on the actual composition of their photos.

He wishes that Ushiwaka had been able to take this class with him. Satori had suggested that he try to enroll at the beginning of the spring semester, but with the class being an upper division, Ushiwaka didn’t have the previous coursework to be able to do it. Besides, Wakatoshi isn’t really in school for the classes, but rather because he’d been scouted by the campus’ volleyball team to play for them and Wakatoshi had gone because it was a good opportunity to get into the professional division. In that sense, Satori feels that he’s falling behind his friend. After all, Wakatoshi knows what he wants, but Satori only knows what he likes.

This class is pretty irritating. Not just because he has to get up and leave for it at the asscrack of dawn, but also because he feels that the discussions lack any real insight. Every week, they’re expected to upload their photos onto their computers and bring them to class, then, they spend the entire hour going around and discussing goals for the project and what could be improved with their current techniques. It would be useful if Satori didn’t find that so many people half-assed their photos the day before and then brought them in with some made up philosophy on why the snow in the crack of the sidewalk symbolizes their incessant need for human connection.

He doesn’t think this way because he’s innocent of half-assing. In fact, Satori half-asses a lot. Sometimes because he can’t be bothered and other times because he finds the work less valuable than something else he could be doing. Still, he likes taking pictures and this is a class centered entirely on developing a personal work portfolio. It’s easy for him to do the assignments because it’s essentially what he does in his free time anyway, so there are times when he feels that maybe these people just don’t care too much about school at all. That’s a fine thought to have, he thinks. Most artists think like that in some way or another.

Satori wonders if it’s the same in your major. Do literature students phone it in and do you find it irritating? He thinks you probably aren’t bothered by it if they do. It wouldn’t be in your nature to get worked up over the actions of others. You hardly even get worked up over your own actions and he thinks it would be weird to see you get in your head over someone else.

He sits through his class though, explaining the photo he’d taken of you in the early morning after you’d spent the whole evening talking and touching each other. Your face is obscured and your belly is pressed down against the mattress. It’s really only an off centered photo of your back, displaying the lovely curve of it against the crumpled white bed sheets and a bit of your hair. There may not be anything special about the photo to anyone else, but Satori remembers how badly he’d wanted to photograph you then.

Intimacy is pleasant to him in small doses. He likes to play pretend when it comes to loving and he’ll touch you like he loves you, let you touch him like you do, but Satori doesn’t ever think he’ll do it for real. At least not right now when he is so consumed by catching up to his peers in some arbitrary way. Still, the picture is a pleasant reminder to him that intimacy exists even in the most mundane of moments. Arguably, it is most present in them.

He doesn’t say all of this to his class though and someone describes the photo as almost pornographic, which he supposes that it is. It gives the impression of two people just after they’ve gone to bed together and he laughs to himself because that’s exactly what it is. Satori just shrugs his shoulders at the comment. That’s just about what your physical relationship to each other is, isn’t it? Almost pornographic in nature, indulging in each other the way lovers might without ever stopping to think if romantic love factors into the actions at all.

#tendou x reader #tendou satori x reader #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader #tendou smut #yeah!!!#WOO HOO #i always get so nervous posting stuff #especially series #tries to be casual about it #tw: teasing #tw: mentions of pregnancy #tw: mentions of breeding #also i was inspired by bria and lily's rp w me for this so <333

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zwhoreo · 2 years ago

Text

first post ^-^ I have some x reader fics and made a blog 4 fun. mostly for me tbh

you’re turned on… - luffy x f!reader

SMUT! slight angst at the end. quite soft.

summary: luffy gets aroused, and needs your help

includes.. innocent luffy, clueless luffy, caring reader, emphasis on being soft and cute, some tears from you, some angst because you want aftercare (nothing too sad tho)

words: 2.2k

_________________________________________

It’s night, and you’re lying in your cabin, comfortable and ready to sleep but excited for Luffy to show up soon. Even if you fell asleep now, he’d wake you up as he came in and rolled on top of you with no sense of protecting your peaceful state. He had grown a strong attachment and routine to cuddling and being held before he went to sleep, so he always wanted you to be there to put him to bed. Even if it was just for a minute as you felt his body against you enough to draw you back to waking, and you were too groggy to do anything, he’d be in heaven if you just went to curl up against his chest so he could hold you.

Meanwhile, Luffy is on the stern of the ship, hugging his knees, deep in thought. He feels weird, so comfortable yet so uncomfortable. He can’t identify why or what to do with himself to make it better. He shifts around, trying to make the feeling go away, but it just makes it worse. Is he sick? Should he go to Chopper? But no, he really just wants to see you. He has this thought that maybe he would feel better if he got to touch and hold you, for some reason.

That’s it, it feels like the middle of sex, kind of. Kind of like what happens when you two play together. There was when you took each other’s virginities, which was weird and new but really fun, and felt really good especially at the end. After that, he had sort of forgotten about it, that it was even a possibility. But sometimes you felt like playing with each other, which began with play fighting or cuddling aggressively or neck kisses, and very, very rarely ended in fucking each other. Usually just heavy petting and sloppily making out, moaning messes in each other’s arms.

Yeah, it feels like that. But this time he isn’t getting touched, but he can’t stop thinking about it and imagining how good it would feel. Why? He kicks his legs in frustration and goes looking for you.

You hear him open and shut the door, walking over to you before quickly shedding his hat and cardigan. you’re laying under the blankets in your thin, nearly translucent silk night slip, and before you have time to sit up he bounds over to the bed, pulling up the covers and climbing neatly on top of you, slamming his full weight against you. He shivers in happiness, squirming and wrapping his arms securely around your waist, head tucked into your neck. You feel his warm breath on your skin and slip one hand into his hair, caressing his back with the other.

“Hey,” you murmur against him, “missed you.”

You feel him still and think you’ll both fall asleep soon in each other’s arms, like usual, but suddenly he lets go, raising himself up on his arms to look at you.

“I feel weird,” he says deliberately.

“What’s wrong?” concern immediately enters your voice, you sit up, hands running down his bare waist and taking him up with you, finding yourself sitting on his lap, looking into his eyes as he aimlessly pulls your hair.

With your weight on his lap, the feeling flares up and he groans in frustration and sadness, draping his arms roughly around your shoulders, almost knocking you over again.

Now you’re worried, he seems in pain. “What? Are you hurt? Talk to me,” you cup his face in your hands, trying to meet his eyes again.

“I don’t know. I just feel weird. I want to touch you but it gets worse when I touch you, and every position is worse,” he rambles, not even knowing himself exactly what he’s trying to say.

“Can you show me where it hurts?” You ask soothingly, feeling him shiver as you trace your fingers down his back.

Without hesitation or embarrassment, he puts his hand between his legs. Then looks up at you again, expectantly.

Poor baby. You smile as you gather him in your arms. “You’re turned on?”

He looks confused, letting himself melt into you but looking up questioningly from your shoulder. You pet his hair, trying to calm him down. This was a special moment, you knew. Luffy, who had little to no sex drive, you couldn’t think of a time he had initiated sex.

But sometimes these things just happen, and that’s ok. You can help him.

“Lemme help you.”

“Hm?” He stares up at you, wide-eyed, mindlessly picking at the skin of your back just to occupy his hands. He can’t seem to sit still.

You hold his face delicately, leaning in to press your lips against his, oh so gently. He makes a small sound at the contact but quickly stills, basking in the kiss. His body is warmer than normal, his lips already wet, he breathes heavily into your mouth and when you try to pull away he chases you, wanting more, not wanting it to stop. His head is spinning, why does this feel so good?

“You want me, hm?” you murmur to him, pulling his hair a bit for easy access to his neck, sliding your tongue along his jawline, he tastes salty, covered in sweat. You bite, softly, the texture of his skin is just slightly strange, but he can still bruise, he can still feel every movement of your mouth.

“Ah.. y-yes,” he squeaks, closing his eyes, already looking so fucked out. His hands get more desperate, pinching and scratching at your back, it hurts and he has no idea he’s hurting you, he’s not aware of anything right now. But you don’t mind a little pain.

“How, Lu? How do you want me?”

“Dunno..” His voice is so soft, you can barely hear him.

“How’s this?” You run your fingers down his chest, caressing his muscular body. You dig into the grooves of his abs and he moans and his skin tightens and clenches at your touch. You go slow and gentle, teasing him, as his small pupils go large and blown out and drool rolls down his chin.

“You feel good…” And after a moment of just sitting there in ecstasy, a switch seems to flip within Luffy, he looks at you with raw, primal hunger. Suddenly, he understands what he needs. Staring deep into your eyes, blistering eye contact that makes you flush, he seems to fill up with an intense determination to satisfy himself. Now.

Shoving you onto your back, he attacks your neck, teeth grazing your sensitive flesh, you whimper underneath him but he’s unrelenting, giving you hot, open-mouthed kisses wherever he can reach. But he’s still holding you, wrapping his arms around your waist, he’s so strong and his grip is firm and tight, he still wants you to feel comfortable and safe. Your moans are encouraging him and making him want more, more. His hips rut against yours instinctively, thrusting against your panties, he yelps at the much needed contact and grinds harder.

“H-hold on…” you squirm in his arms, trying to reach for the zipper on his jeans, but you can’t quite get there, with how hard his body is pressed against yours.

“C-can I kiss you here?” He stretches an arm around to your chest, restraining himself from touching you too much until you tell him it’s alright.

“Yes please..” you manage to whisper, and he eagerly moves his face down to your chest, pushing your slip away, kissing and biting at your breasts.

“This feel nice?” he asks sweetly as you pull on his hair, but you’re too much of a mess to respond, toes curling, trying to pull him even closer against you. His heavy breathing is driving you insane, and the way touches you, so desperate, you can feel his pure, raw want and need in every claw of his hands, every bite.

“Fuck me, Lu, please,” you whimper, feeling tears spring to your eyes as you’re overwhelmed by this new side your partner.

Luffy moans in response, teeth digging into your chest, you’re afraid he might draw blood. He excitedly reaches down to tear your panties off and shivers at the smell and feel of your arousal. “M-mine,” he growls softly, possessively, and you squeeze your hand in his hair and pant, losing oxygen, your heart beating out of your chest.

After a few more instinctual snaps of his hips against you, growing wild from your scent and the pretty noises you’re making, he reaches down to fumble with his zipper, swiping his hand over your clit in his hurry, causing you to shudder and heat up.

You feel him kick off his pants, his cock set free, slapping against your leg. You gasp, feeling how big he is, his unusual arousal and flood of hormones has made him grow larger than normal, his elastic skin easily stretching to accommodate far more size than any regular person. Will he hurt me? you worry a little. You feel him throb and leak, delicate skin tight and burning hot. He probably looks so beautiful like this. You want him inside you, you wiggle invitingly.

“Can I put it in?” he asks innocently. God he’s still so cute, hovering over your face, muscles spasming in their desire to move, sweat dripping from him, those big, sweet deer eyes, what an angel, even right now.

“Now, Luffy. C’mon..” you’re begging him, practically, you want to feel him so badly. “I want you so bad… you’re gonna make me feel so good…”

He smiles widely at your words, trying to keep his hips as gentle as he can as he lines himself up with you, whining in desperation as he pushes himself deeper, deeper, deeper…

“L-Lu…” you hiss, tears springing to your eyes, “yeah, like that…”

He shakes the bed, your whole body, as he begins to lose control, pounding you rougher, faster, growing loud and moaning into your neck. God, he’d so loud when he’s fucking you, you remember. Everyone can probably hear you… you blush furiously, shutting your eyes, it’s ok, it’s time to let your baby feel good, nothing else matters.

He’s using every piece of you, desperate for touch, kisses, going deeper, feeling more. You feel so loved and appreciated, happy feelings washing over you, mixed with pleasure and a slight sting. He’s filling you up so well.

“Mm, you’re perfect, Lu, you’re perfect,” you stroke his hair, trying to catch your breath, getting railed harder than you thought possible. This was never really part of your relationship but this… this is a treat, you’re so lucky…

You can’t believe he’s really yours.

Usually he can last hours with his incredible stamina, but this time it doesn’t take him long to cum, as you tip him over the edge as you clench tightly around him. He’s shuddering against you as his hips buck, spilling into you, so much, he’s filling you up so much.

You whine, burying your face in his shoulder as he breathes raggedly. “Did you cum? Do you wanna?” Luffy asks kindly, turning his face towards you, pressing his cheek against yours, smiling widely, a happy little puppy.

You’re so tired… he’s taken all the energy out of you, it would feel nice to cum but you kinda just want to cuddle him to sleep. You’re tender and happy enough from giving him so much pleasure.

“It’s ok, Lu. Let’s just cuddle.”

“Ok!” He smiles even more, his afterglow is gorgeous, he looks like a real-life angel. “You felt good! It was fun!”

Then he collapses on you, holding you tightly, falling asleep instantly.

Your face falls a little.

You wanted to cuddle, and maybe talk for awhile. You wanted aftercare. He never understands.

A tear forms in your eye.

“Luffy…” But he doesn’t wake up. He just purrs a little in his sleep, so you pet him gently, tenderly, and try to hold back your tears. You were having so much fun, why are you crying?

He’s drooling on your neck, nibbling a little bit, maybe he’s dreaming already.

“Mm… [name]… I love you…” Luffy says under his breath.

You whimper, crying softly, trying to enjoy the warmth of his body on top of yours, trying to calm down and sleep. You shut your eyes tightly. Before you met him, you’d always hug your pillow to fall asleep, you couldn’t without it. It feels like that now, just holding him, trying to comfort yourself. You feel in a daze, crying yourself to sleep, like a child, you feel, you’re rocked by the ship on the choppy waves.

But, on the edge of sleep, you feel movement, arms lifting you up, breath on your face. “Are you crying? Are you ok? …Did I make you cry?” Luffy’s soft voice is filled with concern. You feel your heart breaking. You don’t want to worry him.

“C-can you just hold me for awhile? You were perfect, Lu. I’m just overwhelmed,” you choke out, burying your face in his chest.

He smiles a little, still hurting a bit from seeing you upset, but he cradles you, soothing you, murmuring praise, whatever he thinks will make it better.

“I love you, Luffy, so much…”

“Love you too…” He picks you up carefully, turning you on your side, smiling as he squeezes you from behind, nuzzling into your neck, putting one leg over yours. Your boy loves touch, he slides a hand into yours, letting you play with his fingers. “Thank you.. for helping me. You felt good,” he says again softly.

You both fall asleep like that, satisfied and happy.

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