#absolutely off topic but I had to share

[nenan]

First ever gay couple (Melinda Angel and Danika Marquez) to get married in Curaçao on July 27th 2024, after the official legalization of same-sex marriage on July 12th 2024.

[godsfavdarling]

How does that feel?

my masterlist

+18!!!

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader summary: You've been having a hard time finishing in bed and you finally tell Spencer what's going on. words: 4,4k warnings: smut - oral (fem! receiving), breast/nipple play, unprotected sex (don't do that) a/n: this was a request! also, i've stared at this thing for so long i don't know anymore what's going on, but i hope yall like it <3

You sat at a cozy corner table in the dimly lit bar, surrounded by your closest friends - Penelope, Emily, and JJ. The four of you had met up for a much-needed girls' night out to finally have a chance to unwind and catch up. 

"Can you believe the latest case we worked on?" JJ said, shaking her head. "Sometimes it feels like we're living in a crime novel."

"Tell me about it," Emily agreed. "But PLEASE! Let’s not talk about work. I need to decompress."

Penelope raised her glass. "To decompressing! And to… friends!"

You all clinked glasses, smiling at each other. Very quickly the conversation shifted towards more personal topics.

"So, how are things with Will?" Emily asked, turning to JJ.

JJ smiled. "Things are great, actually. We're planning a little getaway next month, just the two of us. What about you, Em? Any romance on the horizon?"

Emily shrugged. "I'm enjoying the single life right now. Besides, it’s not easy to find love having this job. When am I supposed to do that?"

Penelope grinned. "Don’t you worry about it, pumpkin! You’re gonna find someone soon. I can feel it in my bones!."

The conversation continued in this vein for a while, each of you sharing updates about your romantic lives. You listened and laughed along, but Penelope's observant eyes caught the slightly distant look on your face.

"Alright, spill it," Penelope prompted, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "What's been going on with you lately? You've seemed a bit off."

You sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and embarrassment. These were your friends, after all, and you knew you could trust them. "It's just... I've been having a hard time finishing in bed lately. It's been… really frustrating."

Emily raised an eyebrow, her expression sympathetic. "Have you talked to Spencer about it?"

You shook your head. "Not yet. I mean, I want to, but I don't want to make him feel bad or think it's his fault. He's always so attentive, and I don't want him to think he's doing something wrong. And he’s not doing anything wrong. He’s perfect. Obviously."

JJ leaned in, her voice gentle. "Hey, communication is key. Spencer loves you, and I'm sure he’d want to know what's going on so he can help. I’m sure his big brain knows exactly what to do."

Penelope nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely! Plus, it could be an opportunity to explore new things together… Sometimes all it takes is a little experimentation."

You smiled, feeling a bit more encouraged. "Yeah, maybe you're right. I'll talk to him."

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

Later that evening, you found yourself back at home, sitting on the couch next to Spencer. He was engrossed in a book, the dim light casting soft shadows across his focused face. He set the book aside when he noticed your pensive expression, concern immediately clouding his eyes.

"Hey, is everything okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but laced with worry.

You took a deep breath, feeling your heart pound in your chest. "Spence, there's something I need to talk to you about."

He turned to face you fully, his full attention on you, his brow furrowing slightly. "Of course. What is it?"

You hesitated, your fingers twisting in your lap as you searched for the right words. Finally, you decided to dive in. "Lately, I've been having a hard time finishing in bed. It's been really frustrating for me, and I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want you to feel bad."

Spencer's expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding and concern. His mouth opened slightly as if to speak, but he hesitated, clearly processing what you had just revealed. "Oh…”

You immediately regretted saying anything. It wasn't the end of the world, after all. You still enjoyed sex but just couldn't reach the high. Maybe you were just too stressed. 

It had nothing to do with Spencer. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as Spencer seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowed as he tried to find the right words. Why would he know what to say? You felt like you were just making things difficult.

“Forget it. It’s fine,” you said quickly, trying to dismiss the conversation and spare him the discomfort.

“No, no, no, wait,” he said, reaching out and grabbing your hands as you started to stand up. His grip was firm but gentle, grounding you. “It’s okay. I’m glad you told me. I just… how did I not notice? I��� I’m just trying to remember, well, I remember everything and I just… I can’t believe I… couldn’t tell.”

“It’s fine, Spencer. I didn’t want you to know. It’s embarrassing.” Your voice wavered, and you looked away, feeling tears start to spill down your cheeks.

“No, it’s not. It’s not embarrassing. I want you to feel good.”

“It does feel good. Always. I just… I don’t know. I just can’t cum. It’s like I get almost there and it feels good, but it never happens.” At this point, you were crying openly, the frustration and embarrassment overwhelming you.

Spencer pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you securely. You buried your face in his chest, feeling the warmth and steady beat of his heart. He rubbed your back soothingly, his voice a soft murmur in your ear. "Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure this out together. I want to help."

You clung to him, feeling the weight of your frustration starting to lift just a little. "I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to think it was your fault."

Spencer pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his gaze intense and filled with love. “It’s not your fault, and it’s not my fault. Sometimes these things happen. What’s important is that we’re in this together. We can try new things, we can talk and see what works for you.”

You nodded, sniffling a little. “Okay. I’d like that.”

“Good,” he said, smiling gently, his thumb brushing away a tear from your cheek. “We’ll take it slow and explore together. Your pleasure is important to me, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re satisfied.”

As you snuggled into his arms, the tension slowly easing from your body, you wondered why you had been so scared to tell him in the first place. Spencer always knew what to say, always knew how to make you feel safe and loved. 

This was Spencer - your Spencer - and you realized you had nothing to fear.

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

Spencer was clearly waiting for you to initiate anything, respecting your pace and comfort. In the meantime, he very carefully tried to understand you.

Despite his constant reassurances that there was nothing to be ashamed of and that he was more than happy to figure this out together, you couldn't shake the lingering embarrassment about your problem. He was understanding and supportive, trying to create a safe space for you to open up about your frustrations.

You spent several nights just talking, diving deep into the details of your intimate experiences. Spencer approached it with a mix of curiosity and determination, asking thoughtful and sometimes probing questions. 

You discussed every position you'd tried before, analyzing what felt best and why. You talked about your feelings toward toys and whether they might help. 

Spencer inquired about foreplay - whether it felt too short, too long, too intense, or not intense enough. He wanted to understand what was most pleasurable for you in terms of finishing. Was it when he was eating you out, fingering you, or through penetration? Or did you find that a combination of these was most satisfying? 

He also asked if you enjoyed it when he talked to you during the act. What were your favorite things for him to say? 

He wanted to understand everything about your experiences. What went through your mind when you masturbated? What kind of porn did you watch? Each question, while sometimes making your face flush with embarrassment, was asked with genuine care and focus. 

Spencer treated it like a meticulous scientific research project, aiming to solve the problem with the utmost care and attentiveness. His dedication and focus made you feel deeply cared for, as he was on a mission to be the one to help you find the satisfaction you deserved.

On Saturday night, you and Spencer lay in bed with your books, enjoying the quiet comfort of each other's company. He was engrossed in a thick classic novel in a foreign language, while you were absorbed in your favorite author’s new romance. The plot had just reached the point where the two protagonists had sex for the first time. The scene stirred something deep within you, making your skin feel hot and your heart race. You bit your lip, trying to concentrate, but your thoughts kept drifting.

As the scene ended, you finally allowed yourself to look over at Spencer. He was completely lost in the pages, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“Having problems, genius?” you teased, your voice carrying a playful edge.

“What? No!” he replied, not even looking up from the words on the page. “How’s your romance? Is it good?”

“Oh... it’s very good,” you said, scooting closer to him, propping your head on your hand. Finally, he looked at you, curiosity mingling with his usual attentiveness.

“What is it?” he asked, sensing your change in mood.

“Nothing,” you replied with feigned innocence, placing your hand on his chest. 

His eyes stayed on you, studying your expression. Your breathing grew heavier as you stared at his neck, unable to hold back any longer. You lowered your face to the side of his neck, your lips brushing against his skin.

Spencer's breath hitched slightly, and he set his book aside, his attention fully on you now. "Are you sure it's nothing?" he murmured, his voice low and inviting.

You smiled against his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin. "Well, maybe it's something," you admitted, your voice a whisper. Your fingers traced gentle patterns on his chest, feeling a now quicker beat of his heart beneath your touch.

Spencer’s hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. “Tell me,” he urged softly, his eyes filled with desire.

The room felt charged with electricity. 

“Well… I was just reading this scene… where, you know… the girl and the boy finally fucked. On the floor. It made me think of us.” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly.

“You want to have sex on the floor?” Spencer asked with a serious tone.

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “No, too many germs,” you said with a playful grin.

Spencer chuckled, his eyes softening with affection. “Alright, not on the floor then,” he said, his voice low and inviting as his hand gently caressed your cheek. “But I get the idea.”

You leaned into his touch, your heart pounding with anticipation. “I just want to be close to you,” you murmured, your fingers tracing the outline of his collarbone.

Spencer's eyes darkened with understanding, and he leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft yet insistent. “Then let’s explore that together,” he whispered against your lips, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip, pulling you closer.

His kiss was deep, his lips moving against yours with a gentle urgency that sent shivers down your spine. 

His hand, now resting on your hip, guided you closer, pressing your bodies together. 

You instinctively rubbed your thighs together, seeking some friction, and Spencer, ever observant, immediately noticed. It seemed impossible for him to be more attentive, yet somehow he was. 

With a gentle but deliberate motion, he turned you so that you were lying on your back beneath him. As he shifted, you felt the press of his already hard cock against your core, making you lift your hips slightly, yearning for more contact.

“We’re gonna take things slow, okay?” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. “I want you to feel good.”

You wanted him, you wanted him now, but you understood his approach. 

After all the endless conversations, you and Spencer had reached a few conclusions about what worked best for you both. 

For one, you often found yourselves too excited, mostly you, to slow things down. Foreplay, though it was present, had usually been quite brief due to the intense need to get naked and feel him inside you. So, longer foreplay became a new priority.

Two, you discovered that you felt most connected when he was close to you, every part of his body touching yours.

Three, you both agreed on the importance of more kissing. Spencer had given you what felt like a comprehensive college level lesson on erogenous zones, emphasizing the need to focus on and cherish these areas. 

His lips, his touch, his breath - every aspect of physical intimacy was to be savored and explored in greater depth.

With these insights in mind, Spencer leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. His hands roamed your body with a slow, deliberate grace, each touch designed to explore and stimulate. 

His kisses traveled from your lips to your neck, then lower, each movement a careful balance of passion and tenderness.

He paused to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with both love and a hint of playful mischief. “Ready for us to take our time?” he asked, his voice a soothing murmur.

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of excitement and relief. “Let’s take our time.”

Your nipples were already hard against your tank top, the fabric offering little barrier to the stimulation. Spencer grazed the side of your breasts with his hands, his touch both teasing and tender. 

As his lips kissed and nuzzled your collarbones, his thumb began to circle your nipple through the thin material of your shirt. The sensation made you shiver with pleasure, and you melted further into his touch.

His leg, now firmly pressed between your thighs, rubbed gently against your inner thighs and core. The pressure of his length pressed into your hip, amplifying the heat building in you.

“Please, take it off,” you whispered, your voice quivering with need.

“Take off what?” Spencer murmured, his face still buried in your chest, his hair brushing against your face with every movement.

“My shirt. Please,” you pleaded, a hint of desperation in your voice.

He chuckled softly, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he slid his hands lower, pushing up your top to reveal your stomach. He showered your exposed skin with soft kisses, his lips warm and affectionate against your belly. 

As you reached for the hem of your shirt, you quickly pulled it off, tossing it aside.

“What happened to taking things slow?” Spencer asked, looking up at you with a teasing grin, his chin resting against your stomach.

“Sorry,” you said, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Don’t be,” he replied with a smile. “I just want to make sure you feel really good.”

“I do,” you whispered, your voice filled with need. “Keep going.”

“Whatever you say, angel,” he murmured with a soft chuckle.

With that, Spencer moved between your legs, lifting them and resting them on his shoulders. He positioned himself comfortably, and you felt the anticipation rise as his face moved closer to your core. 

He inhaled deeply, his breath warm against your sensitive folds, making you whimper in response.

“Please,” you begged softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” he said, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into you, pulling down your underwear with careful, deliberate motions. He started with a gentle kiss on your nub, his lips exploring with a tenderness that made you gasp. 

He then trailed his kisses down to your thighs, peppering them with soft, teasing pecks. The sensation was delightful, and you giggled, placing your hand on his cheek.

He turned his mouth to your hand, kissing the inside of your palm before taking it in his hand and guiding it back to rest gently beside you. His fingers lingered, his touch warm and reassuring as he held your hand. 

He then looked at your cunt.

“You’re already so wet. For me?” he asked, his voice filled with both awe and desire.

“For you? Always,” you replied, your breath hitching.

He chuckled against you, the sound and the vibration making you shiver. “Don’t do that,” you said with a laugh, trying to steady your breathing.

“Sorry,” he murmured with a playful tone. 

Before you could say anything more, he gave you a long, slow lick from your entrance to the top, his tongue moving with a deliberate slowness. He stopped at your sensitive nub and began to suck gently, his mouth working with a rhythm that made you arch your back and moan in pleasure.

Spencer’s mouth was a world of sensation against you. 

He kept going with long, languid licks, his tongue gliding from your entrance to the top of your sensitive nub. Each stroke was deliberate, exploring every inch with a careful, loving precision. 

The warmth of his tongue, combined with the perfect pressure, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making you gasp and moan.

You felt your breath quicken as his movements became more focused. 

He moved his tongue in quicker, teasing circles around your clit, his mouth creating a constant, delightful friction. 

You squirmed under the intensity, your hips instinctively bucking in response.

When you no longer felt him on your clit, a desperate cry for him almost escaped your lips. But then, he gently slipped his tongue inside you, and a wave of relief and pleasure washed over you. 

He moved with precision, his tongue exploring deeper while maintaining the steady, teasing motions that drove you wild. Each movement was deliberate, calculated to elicit the maximum pleasure from you.

His nose brushed against your folds and clit with each movement, adding an extra layer of sensation. The combination of his tongue inside you and the gentle pressure of his nose against your most sensitive spot made you tremble. 

Your hand clutched at the sheets, your body arching toward him, seeking more.

You could feel the build-up of tension and ecstasy swelling inside you.

Through all of this, Spencer held your hand firmly in his, his fingers intertwined with yours. 

As you felt your orgasm approaching, you squeezed his hand tightly, your fingers gripping his with a mix of desperation and pleasure. 

Spencer responded by tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, his touch soothing and intimate amidst all the intense sensations he was creating.

With a final, expert flick of his tongue, he sent you spiraling into a powerful climax. 

Your body tensed and then released in a wave of pleasure, your moans filling the room. Spencer continued his slow, consistent movements, savoring every moment of your release.

As the waves of pleasure began to subside, he slowly eased his mouth away, leaving soft, lingering kisses along your inner thighs. 

His hand remained clasped with yours, and he looked into your eyes from between your thighs, his expression a mix of content and desire. “Wanna keep going? We can stop if you need to.”

You shook your head, a determined glint in your eyes as you pulled yourself up and crushed into him, pressing your lips against his with an almost desperate intensity. 

The kiss was fervent, your tongues dancing together, both urgent and consuming as you tasted yourself on his lips and on his tongue. He was covered in you.

Spencer’s hands found their way to your back, his touch warm and gentle, but firm at the same time.

Tonight felt different. It was more intense, more electric. 

As your kiss grew deeper, you moaned into him, the sound mingling with his own soft groans of pleasure. With a deft maneuver, he turned you so that you were straddling him, his hands firmly on your hips.

“Is this okay?” he managed to ask, his voice a low rumble as he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes. The effort it took to break the kiss was evident, his breaths heavy and laden with desire.

“Yes,” you responded quickly, your need palpable as you crashed your lips back onto his, kissing him even harder. 

“Baby, slow down,” Spencer said softly, though his voice was tinged with longing. “We were meant to go slow.”

You moved your lips to his cheek and jaw, leaving a trail of kisses that were tender but laced with urgency. “I need you. I need you so bad,” you whispered against his skin, the words laced with an aching desire.

Spencer gently cupped your face, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your jawline. He guided your gaze to meet his.

“Look at me,” he said softly, his voice a gentle promise and his eyes filled with affection “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. We have all night and even more.”

He leaned in and kissed you with a tenderness that contrasted the intensity of moments before. 

“How do you do it?” you asked breathlessly, your curiosity blending with the haze of desire. You wondered, as you looked into his eyes, how he managed to maintain such control over himself amidst all the passion.

“What?” Spencer’s voice was a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

“Stop yourself,” you clarified, your voice barely above a whisper. “How do you manage to hold back?”

Spencer’s eyes softened, and he gave you a reassuring smile. “It’s not about holding back,” he said, his voice calm and sincere. “It’s about making sure you feel good. I want this to be perfect for you, for us, every time. That’s what matters.”

His words stirred something deep within you, and you were hit by a wave of warmth and appreciation. As he leaned in to kiss you again, the tender, loving nature of his touch gave you goosebumps.

“Can we fuck now?” you asked, your voice husky with need.

Spencer looked at you with a warm, eager smile. “Yes. Yes, we can,”

You gave his cock a few teasing strokes, feeling the way he reacted, his breath hitching as he moaned softly into your shoulder. You slowly guided him to your entrance. 

The sensation of him pressing against you was both thrilling and comforting, a familiar solace you will never get tired of and always makes your world shudder.

With a gentle, deliberate motion, you positioned him at your core, and you slowly lowered yourself onto him. 

The gradual stretch and the way he filled you completely was exquisite, causing you both to moan into each other’s mouths softly. 

You took your time, savoring each inch, feeling every subtle shift and movement.

Spencer’s hands were steady on your hips, guiding and supporting you as you adjusted to his size. His breaths were heavy, matching the rhythm of your movements. 

The room was filled with only the sound of your shared pleasure, a mix of gasps and moans.

As you slowly rode him, the rhythm of your movements became more synchronized, each motion building both of you up to the peak. 

Spencer’s hands were not idle - he moved with purpose, his touch exploring every inch of your body with a deep, loving attentiveness.

One hand continued to support you around your lower back, while the other trailed up to your breasts. His fingers began to play with your nipples, gently pinching and rolling them as you moved. 

That was one thing you had confessed to him during one of your intimate conversations, and Spencer had clearly taken it to heart. You had shared with him how much you loved when he played with your breasts, revealing, a bit embarrassed, the deep pleasure it brought you.

“How does that feel?” he asked in between the kisses he left on your neck, his voice a husky whisper against your skin.

“Fuck,” was all you managed to say, a breathless gasp that made him chuckle, his eyes gleaming with amusement and desire.

He massaged your breasts tenderly, his fingers moving with a practiced ease, adjusting his touch to match the rhythm of your thrusts. His lips covered every inch of your neck and shoulders, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

The combination of his hands on your breasts, the feeling of him inside you, and his lips on your skin was overwhelming. Your body responded instinctively, arching into his touch, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

Spencer’s breath came in ragged gasps, his groans of pleasure mingling with yours. His hands worked skillfully, keeping your nipples sensitive and aroused as your movements became more frantic and desperate. Then his eyes locked onto yours, a mixture of concentration and passion evident in his gaze.

While you stared into his brown eyes, he finally teased your nipple with a light lick of his tongue. 

You almost screamed. 

He started kissing it while his other hand worked on your other breast, his mouth hot and insistent. His tongue traced circles around your hard peak, sending shivers down your spine, while his slim fingers squeezed the other one.

At that point, you screamed into his ear, unable to contain the intensity of your pleasure.

“Sorry,” you whispered, your voice a trembling apology.

“It’s okay. You’re so beautiful,” he replied, his eyes softening with affection as he looked at you, his hands never ceasing their tender ministrations. His words and touch combined, making you feel cherished and desired in every way and that made your heart swell.

His lips returned to your other nipple, sucking and teasing it with more insistence now.

Finally, the pressure inside you reached its peak. 

With a gasp and a shudder, you came, the wave of ecstasy crashing over you while his lips stayed on your breasts peppering them with kisses.

Your body tensed and then relaxed as you rode out the climax, your moans filling the room. Spencer continued to stroke your breasts gently, his touch both soothing and stimulating as he guided you through the final throes of your orgasm.

As you slowly came down from the high, you leaned your head against his, your fingers gently threading through his hair, the other arm wrapped around his neck. He held you close, his hands now lingering on your back with a soft, affectionate touch. 

He squeezed you tightly, turning his face to kiss your neck, which elicited one more moan from your lips. 

You could feel him smiling against your skin as he squeezed you tightly one more time.

[potter-imagines]

Brat (Satoru Gojo x Reader)

Prompt: Satoru and his girlfriend Y/n are in an argument over his celebrity crush on Inoue Waka. Y/n is ignoring Satoru which absolutely drives him crazy.

Pairing: Satoru x reader

Warnings: some swearing, light light light smut (making out), gojo being gojo

Word Count: 7k

Notes: this is set broadly around season 2 episode 2 plot, with some clear changes from the original episode. riko and suguru are included.

“You changed your home screen?” Suguru commented nonchalantly. He took notice of the sudden alteration to his friend’s phone almost immediately. The difference wasn’t hard to spot seeing as the last two years all Satoru had used for his background images were various photos of his girlfriend, Y/n, whom he loved showing off.

Suguru was accustomed to the photos being circulated in a never ending pattern, Y/n and Satoru at the beach, Y/n in a scandalous position she beat him into removing, Y/n sleeping on his chest, Y/n and him sharing sweets, Y/n on her birthday grinning widely as she sat in front of her cake, the couple doing mud masks together, Y/n in front of the eiffel tower, and so on, however it was entirely new for him to see the famous, bikini clad Japanese model as his friend's home screen instead of his girlfriend. Suguru’s brow was raised as Satoru chuckled to himself.

“To Inoue Waka.” Gojo smiled in triumph, like he was in some war that he had finally found the upper hand in. “Y/n and I are in a fight- it’s certain to get a reaction out of her.” 

Despite his explanation, Suguru found himself lost in confusion. Only a night prior to leaving for their mission to protect and deliver the star plasma vessel, Geto had been sitting in attendance as he witnessed the couple's one of many bickering sessions. He really couldn’t blame Y/n much, seeing as he also found himself disagreeing with the white haired prodigy on the regular as well, yet this fight was one hundred percent, without a doubt in his mind, Satoru Gojo’s fault. Being as the argument was his wrong doing, Suguru couldn’t understand why his friend would sink himself deeper in the grave with his strong willed girlfriend rather than admit he messed up. And he certainly couldn’t see how an image of another woman- a model their argument steamed from, in a bikini too tight her boobs were practically over spilling from, would help his case.

The pair seemed to forget where they were until the young voice of the vessel of Tengen-sama herself reminded them of her presence. 

“Listen to me!” Riko shouted, irritation lacing her words. The young girl was set to explode off on the boys like a firecracker for their rude behavior in dismissing her heartfelt declaration on becoming one with Tengen-sama and Tengen-sama one with her, when suddenly the mention of the feminine name caught her attention. “Wait, Y/n?” She questioned. Riko didn’t see another female insight besides Kuroi but she sure hoped there was a sane female mind among the brainless men sitting among her. 

At her words, the man with hair white as snow leaned against the couch and ran a hand along his face. He narrowed his gaze, giving the girl a leer as if he found it ridiculous he had to explain who this Y/n was to her. 

“My strikingly beautiful, insanely stubborn, bratty, gorgeous girlfriend.” He moaned as his head fell back against the sofa, like the explanation was difficult enough. Through his dark rimmed glasses Gojo looked over to Riko, changing the topic all together. “I bet you don’t have many friends if you talk like that.”

“We won’t have to feel bad sending you off.” Suguru muttered. 

“I talk normally at school!” She expressed in an exacerbated tone, then quickly stepped forward pointing an accusing finger in the white haired man’s face. “And it’s you who shouldn’t have any friends! You certainly don’t deserve a girlfriend if you’re calling her a brat behind her back, you should be ashamed of yourself!” She reprimanded. 

Suguru lifted his gaze, intrigued by her final comment. Satoru didn’t actually think of his girlfriend as a brat, but of course Riko didn’t understand how the couple worked and there was no time to explain how Gojo called his girlfriend a brat in an endearing way- unlike his usage for it towards her. When Gojo used it towards Riko, he meant it. If they had the time, Geto might even explain how Y/n commonly refers to her boyfriend as a ‘trust fund baby’ or ‘a prick’, both of which are factual, yet it’s out of love between the two. 

Satoru ignored her quip, finding her opinion on his relationship totally useless. He knew his love for Y/n was larger than his will to live, yet he saw no point in expressing that to this girl. Riko didn’t know one thing about his relationship with Y/n so why did he care what the girl thought? Sure, he probably did sound like a complete jerk, however he couldn’t care less if the star plasma vessel before him found him to be a bad person for what she was hearing. 

Suguru glanced at Satoru, curious to see if the sorcerer was going to give a reaction however the six eye holder simply scrolled away on his phone, searching for the perfect image of his celebrity model crush to use as his lock screen. 

“School…” She mumbled out. “Kuroi, what time is it?!”

Satoru, Suguru, and Kuroi all sat scattered around the abandoned outdoor pool of Renchoku Girls' Junior High, all thinking of different things. Kuroi found herself reflecting on the time she spent practically raising the young girl who would soon be sacrificing herself as a vessel. Suguru’s mind wandered to how they were going to keep Riko safe until making it to Jujutsu High. All Satoru could think about was why his girlfriend wouldn’t answer his calls. Dangling his shoes above the water, Satoru kicked at the murky water in vex as yet another call went unanswered. 

“Huh?! She keeps sending me straight to voicemail- Suguru, let me borrow your phone!” Satoru failed to turn around as he extended his arm behind himself, impatiently awaiting Geto’s cellphone.

Begrudgingly Suguru dug his phone out from his side pocket and handed the cell phone over to his hysterical friend. He had already seen this play out a million times before and was positive the outcome would be no different; Gojo does something easily avoidable and pisses Y/n off, they get into an argument because it physically pains Gojo to admit his wrong doings, Y/n ignores him, he pretends he’s fine and acts as if he enjoys the distance created, that lasts for a few hours at most, then Gojo acts like a crazed person trying to get his girlfriend to respond while she is clearly still upset. 

Miles away in Tokyo, Y/n saw the face of her good friend Suguru pop up on her screen. Her brain screamed it was just her idiot boyfriend trying to convince her to speak to him. Maybe it really was Suguru calling to inform her of their mission. Hesitantly, Y/n accepted the call and lifted the phone to her ear.

“Hi, pretty girl- uh?! She hung up on me!” Gojo shrieked as the line went dead on the other end. He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared the the screen in disbelief, almost as if the mobile device had zapped him like an electrical shock. His mouth hung wide, a look of absolute astonishment polarizing his features. A few moments of staring at the blank screen passed by, Gojo awaiting a returning call from his love to declare it was all some prank, yet nothing came. Suguru outstretched his hand towards his friend,

“Satoru, can I have my phone back?”

The blue eyed man gave an over exaggerated groan then carelessly tossed the cellular device back to its rightful owner. 

“Fine. Ugh! Can’t believe how dramatic she’s being! Just wait until I get back to Jujutsu High and don’t share any of my mochi with her. She’s going to have to wait at least a week until I give her that necklace I bought.” He huffed like a child. Resting his chin in the palm of his hand, Satoru gazed out at the pool. From behind he could hear a chuckle from his friend, causing him to turn his head. As expected, Suguru was chuckling to himself at his expense. Squinting his eyes, Satoru sent a scowl, unimpressed at Suguru’s amusement over his situation. 

“Well, you did go on an entire rant to her about how hot Inoue Waka is, how she’s your dream girl, then you told Y/n you’re only dating her because Inoue Waka hasn’t returned any of your fanmail-”

“That was a joke.” Satoru dismissed his argument, shaking his head, still playing a blind eye to his wrong doings.  

“And you said Y/n is lucky to be dating you… so, one might call her response reasonable.” Sure, Suguru was Satoru’s friend first, but he was also Y/n’s friend and he had no issue telling Satoru the truth when he was in the wrong, like he was now.  “Not to mention the new background which is sure to warm her heart.” Suguru pointed out. Gojo preferred to convince himself that his partner was wrong, although the nagging voice in the back of his head claimed otherwise. An abrupt quip from Geto on two of his cursed spirits no longer roaming around Riko sent all three sprinting to find her location, and still, even while the choir girls and sensei fawned over him, Gojo could not stop replaying his earlier fight with Y/n, wondering what he could do to get a response from her. 

Satoru and Riko were currently running from the chapel on her school grounds- well, Satoru was running while he had the young school girl hoisted by the back of her uniform. An unexpected attack had caused a bump in the road and now Gojo had to protect the girl on his own until he could find Suguru, not that the task would be difficult by any means, Satoru simply had his mind elsewhere. Speaking of elsewhere, his cell phone started ringing from his side pocket, and before he could reach for the mobile device, the young girl plucked it out in one motion. Satoru went to steal his phone back when she raised the phone to her ear and, as if it belonged to her, answered the call meant for Satoru. 

“Eh? Give that here-” Gojo reached his hand to snatch his phone back from Riko, yet instead she pulled the device right to her ear and began rambling. If she wasn't on the mission Satoru was certain he’d have dropped her off the building right then and there, but he had no time to make another effort to yank the phone as he needed to reach higher ground. It wasn’t until Gojo heard the sound of his girlfriend’s voice that his heart dropped straight to his ass. ‘Oh no’, he thought. 

“Is this Y/n?” The girl eagerly asked. A far off voice replied, making Gojo reach out once more to snatch his phone back, only for the vessel to jerk her head away from his grasp. He knew there was no time to stop, he had to get to higher ground and then he could steal his phone back and make things right with his girlfriend- he just hoped Riko and her big mouth wouldn’t taint that chance for him. 

Before he could try to reason with the girl and convince her not to say anything more, Riko began rambling and there was nothing he could do to stop her. Gojo could sense another curse user in their perimeter and knew it was essential for his focus to remain on keeping the vessel safe, even if she was a pain in his ass. 

“My name is Riko- yes, I am! Listen, your boyfriend is a total selfish, inconsiderate, self obsessed jerk! He barged into my choir class all high and mighty and bathed in the attention as the girls swarmed him- he even took his stupid little glasses off for them to all swoon over his eyes! He was totally leaning into their lust for him! My sensei even gave him her phone number-”

“Ah! Hey! Give me my phone back- are you trying to get me murdered?!” Nope, ah uh, not happening, Gojo thought as he tore his cellphone away from her hands. Riko turned to look at him, but the mix of fear and absolute terror on his face kept her words at bay. He sent the girl a cold glare, electric blue eyes narrowed in frustration. “My girlfriend is-”

The abrupt sound of his beloved girlfriend screaming at him sent Satoru back to reality as he glanced at the phone screen, then resentfully lifted the mobile to his ear.

“Hi, princess- why’re you yelling?! I don’t know what this crazy girl is talking about-”

Even Riko was experiencing a small twang of regret as the manic shouting on the opposite end of the line seemed to worsen with every passing second. As far as only knowing the cocky sorcerer for less than a full day, this change in posterior surprised her. Riko was taken aback to see him practically cowering at the words the girl seemed to be seething. All day he had been ranting and raving about how powerful he was- clearly the conceited type, yet here he was nearly shaking like a leaf as his girlfriend scolds him. Riko wonders for a brief moment if she should’ve minded her own business.

A minute more of screaming and cursing passed until Satoru seemed to find his voice, or rather thought of a viable excuse, and nervously cut the girl off. 

“I’ve got to go, a curse user attacked! See you later, my love!” He hurriedly smacked his finger against the red button on the bottom of the phone, desperate to end the call as quickly as humanly possible. Riko stared up at him as she dangled above the ground, and as their eyes met, Gojo rolled his, displaying his anger towards the girl as broad as daylight. 

Gojo scoffed down at the girl as he continued to hoist her above the earth by the back of her shirt, carrying her as if she was a briefcase, or bag of groceries, though certainly not as one should hold a human. Riko huffed, folding her arms across her chest, but Gojo paid no mind to her emotions, too upset with her actions and interjecting herself in his personal relationship. Jumping to the building to their right, a childlike huff heaved from his chest. 

“Jeez, you’re really a handful, brat. Now I’ve got more of a mess waiting at Jujutsu High for me.”

After the pair met up with Suguru and Kuroi, the four were beyond ready to be inside the safety barrier of Jujutsu High and left at once. After arriving at the school, the sun had long since fallen and the sky was teetering between a navy and black shade. Suguru gave his partner a curt nod, gesturing his head towards the dorm rooms, insisting he could handle escorting Riko into the tombs of the star corridor. Satoru sent his friend a grateful smile, bid the vessel and her guardian a farewell, then took off for the dorms. A small, minute, fraction of him was going to miss the kid, but she agreed to her destiny and up until now, seemed relatively pleased with her choice. Satoru jogged up the steps of the dormitory until he finally reached the fourth floor, the floor only occupied by female students. It wasn’t hard to locate Y/n’s room as he had snuck in past curfew more times than he could count, he reached her door with ease. 

His knuckles tapped against the wooden door, allowing less than a fair second to pass before he jimmied the handle. Usually a locked door would be a sign to walk away and try again in the morning, but Satoru only saw it as a slight hiccup. Pulling a credit card from his back pocket, Satoru slid the heavy black card through the slit between the frame and the door itself, shimming the card down to the lock while simultaneously twisting the knob back and forth. He gave the handle one quick turn to the left and abruptly the door swung open causing him to stumble less than graciously into the dimly lit room. 

Creeping in, Gojo carefully shut the door behind him and fully stepped into the dorm. The pink clock on her desk flashed half past midnight, but he knew his night owl of a girlfriend was sure to be awake, despite the eerie silence in the room. Tiptoeing his way towards the bed in the corner, Gojo let out a whisper, 

“Princess, I’m home! Are you awake?”

He sat himself on the edge of the mattress, placing the large shopping bag by his feet as he cautiously examined the heap hidden under a pile of blankets. Running his hand up and down the smooth fleece, Satoru could feel someone shifting around underneath. He leaned his head down, bending his body at an awkward angel, to rest it on top of what he assumed to be her side- that was until an elbow pulled back from under and collided sharply with his temple. 

A pained yelp sounded as he jumped back in surprise and fell to the floor causing a ‘thud’ to sound out. The figure on the bed threw the covers off her head as her fiery leer met Gojo’s stunned expression. 

“No.” She sneered. Though this did not deter the boy as he had previously prepared himself for an attitude filled reunion- especially due to how their last conversation had ended. Propping himself up to his feet once more, Satoru was determined to try again. 

“I brought you presents- look!” He rustled through the paper bag and yanked out four neatly wrapped parcels, and smiled while shoving his outstretched arms towards the glaring girl. However she refused to move, and instead continued murdering the sorcerer with her deathly scowl instead. Gojo let out a dramatic sigh, gesturing to the boxes in his arms once more. “C’mon, pretty girl, you gotta open the gifts-”

“Why don’t you go give it to those choir school girls- or what about their instructor-” A taunting laugh fell from her pink lips. “Better yet, send it to Inoue Waka and see if she finally responds to your love letters!” 

“Oh, c’mon, pumpkin! Are you really still upset about that?” Gojo whined. Here he was, bearing gifts in hand, and she was still angry about something that happened so, so long ago? Gojo ran his calloused hand across his face. 

“Still upset? It just happened today!” 

“If it’s any consolation, those school girls weren’t even in high school so they were way too young for me anyhow.” And none of them compared to you, he wanted to add. Y/n tossed from her position in the bed so her face was now peeking out between covers as her eyes flared. If the situation wasn’t so serious, Gojo would reach out to pinch at the cute chub of her cheek and comment on how adorable she appeared, yet he knew better than to try to weasel his way out of this one. 

“Ah, so you were flirting with a bunch of children and a cougar? Sounds a lot better that way, Satoru.” She shot back, sass soaking her words. Her rebuttal had Gojo rethinking his words. The issue with dating a woman like Y/n was she was far more intelligent then himself and simply didn’t fall for his handsome looks and boyish charm, which Gojo relied on when it came to the opposite sex. Not that this was a bad thing, so to say, it was actually one of the thousands of reasons why he loved her so much- she wasn’t shallow minded and saw him far beyond his outward appearance. Setting the presents on her freshly organized desk, Satoru ran a hand through his hair and awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Technically, it wasn’t flirting in the sense you’re thinking of, I had to distract the class with my charm and good looks so I could sneak Master Tengen’s vessel out of class- I wasn’t lying about us being under attack by another curse user, that was true!”

“What about her number, huh?” Y/n scoffed. 

“She offered it, but I never accepted it.” Luckily he was telling the truth and Y/n believed him. Despite trusting his confession, she didn’t do anything more. 

A silence greeted the couple, neither certain of what to say next. Y/n lifted the blankets from her lap and stood from her bed in front of her boyfriend. Sure the gesture was small, but Satoru took her willingness to step closer to his frame as a good thing as his arms reached out to pull her body against his in a bone crushing hug. His forehead pressed against her shoulder while he kissed the spot. Y/n thought about pulling away for a second, she thought about making him work harder to gain her forgiveness, but his arms felt far too comforting around her body for her to shake him off. With his head buried in her shoulder, Gojo glanced up to Y/n, a softness in his eyes as he spoke,

“Do you forgive me, pretty girl? I’m sorry I made you upset… I don’t like it when you’re mad at me.” 

When she didn’t answer right away, Gojo lifted his head from her so he could properly look her in the eyes. He could visibly see the clouds of anger clearing as she quietly stared back at him. His hand then moved to wrap around the side of her face, his gentleness causing her to melt against his palm. She desperately wanted to smack his hand away, curse him then send him off to his room for the night, but she couldn’t. His touch sparked a series of shivers through her body which only made her long for him to pull her closer. 

A grin broke across his features as he accepted her lack of resistance as approval for his apology and began to move closer towards her face. If she slapped him away, then he’d know he misread the signs, but she didn’t. Their faces were so close in distance Y/n could smell the welcoming scent of peppermint swirling from his parted lips. These were the times she found herself grateful for his sweet tooth, it usually made for sweeter kisses. Wordlessly, Y/n pushed herself to close the distance and pressed her lips to connect to his. Gojo hums as he dips his head lower to gain advantage as he deepens the exchange. 

His mouth is warm against hers, inviting, as he kisses her. She can feel his tongue as it slips inside her mouth, almost like it was entering its second home, seeing as easily as it made itself comfortable and friendly against her own. Her fingers gripped at his white strands, pulling his face closer. All the frustration, all the emotions she had been experiencing towards him for the last day melted into the kiss. Satoru had one hand wrapped around her waist, holding her middle against his hips and his other swooped up around her lifted arm, leaving his hand to rest on the back of her neck, not letting her pull away even if she wanted to. 

Y/n could taste the strawberry chapstick on his lips, the same chapstick he had stolen from her only a week prior. He wasn’t lying, the taste was addictive. Gojo’s lips captured her bottom in a heated move, sucking on the skin with the slightest hint of friction as his teeth light delved into the plumpness. She had no time to muffle the moan passing through her, to which he smirked at the sound. 

A sense of shame washed over her once she realized he had won the silent battle. Instead, Y/n yanked at his hair from the root and pulled his lips back against hers, kissing him with such force he nearly stumbled back a footing. Gojo’s eyes widened in the middle of the kiss, surprised at her boldness and the way her tongue was invading his mouth. He could feel the material of his uniform growing tighter as his jeans constricted against his crotch. Y/n sucked on the silky smoothness of his tongue, small smacks sounding as she dominated the heated makeout. 

A shudder danced down his spine at the feeling of her hand pressed against his groin, his hips subconsciously grinding against her palm. Rubbing her hand along the zipper Y/n toyed with the cool metal, silently teasing her boyfriend as a means of revenge for his actions. Just as she began pulling the slider down, her lips pulled away from him at once, much to Satoru’s disappointment. His mouth hung low as a small whine sounded.

Y/n simply ignored his childish ways, and reached for the bottom of her shirt, causing him to smile once more. Peeling the shirt that belonged to him off her body, Y/n threw it to the floor then fell back against her mattress, motioning Gojo over with the flick of her wrist. Satoru stalked towards her on the bed, almost like a predator sneaking up on it’s prey. His eyes held a look of hunger she rarely saw but bathed in the heat searing from it.

Climbing over her body, Satoru placed himself so he was looming above her, his zipper hanging half undone. Y/n tilted her head, pretending not to understand the look on his face. Gojo shook his head then leaned his face so his lips could skim against her exposed neck. He let his mouth trail up the side of her skin, hot breath fanning over her coolness. His hands lifted to grope at the covering of her bra, giving the material a tug. He came to a stop once his mouth was pressed against the shell of her ear, his voice sending a wave of pleasure straight to her core, 

“I love it when my princess is being a little brat… think I need to put you back in your place.”

Without warning his lips attached to her neck and harshly began to suck at the skin, surely leaving a trail of blotchy red marks. Y/n’s whole body hitched at the overwhelming rush of excitement, her hips lifting only to be shoved back into the mattress by his own which hovered barely an inch above. 

She let her head fall to the side, allowing Satoru more access to her neck, her eyes hardly opened as she basked in the tingling his mouth brought. Hands traveled up and down his back, nails lightly scratching against him as her body wormed from his lips making love to her skin. Y/n nearly closed her eyes all together, she nearly allowed herself to get lost in his kiss, that was until a distant ‘ding’ caught her attention and the phone beside her head lit up. 

A text notification from Suguru popped up on Satoru’s phone, but that wasn’t what caught Y/n’s attention, no, her fixation settled in on the nearly naked photo of the famous model Inoue Waka. The same Inoue Waka that sparked the original fight between the couple, the same Inoue Waka Satoru called hot, the one he declared his dream girl, and same Inoue Waka Satoru said he’d be dating if she’d give him a chance- Y/n was fuming in rage. Pushing both hands on his chest, Y/n physically shoved Satoru off her body causing him to tumble off the side of the bed. His hands flailed out in an attempt to grab for stability, although failed as he rolled to the wood floor, his back smacking against the ground. Gojo laid still on the floor, his mind still trying to process the whole event as he rubbed at the ache on the back of his head. Sitting up straight she reached out for his phone and held it in his face as she screamed,

“Are you fucking kidding me, Satoru?! You put Inoue Waka as your background?!”

“Hehe… that was meant to be a joke…” The fear in his voice transcribed in shaky words as Y/n chucked the phone at him, barely missing his face as he lunged to the side. She snatched his shirt off the ground and threw it back on, covering her chest as Gojo scrambled to grab his cellphone. 

“Fine, I’ve got an even funnier joke for you,” A taunting smile full of hidden anger laced her lips as her finger jutted towards her door. “Get out!” 

His face fell all at once, a deep pout tattooed on his lips. Maybe he should’ve listened to Suguru earlier when he insisted this was a bad idea- if he’d had listened to Suguru, the two would probably be tangled in her bed sheets by now, but no, Gojo had to press her buttons even further. Opening his phone, Satoru clicked on the most recent image of Y/n and faster than the speed of light, set the photo to his new lock and home screen. 

“Aw, c’mon! I’ll change it right now- see! Look, pumpkin, it’s a picture of my favorite girl-” Gojo flipped his phone around, allowing the bright screen to illuminate Y/n’s face. She glanced up, and Satoru watched in utter confusion as her expression went from upset to lividly irate. His heartbeat multiplied in rate, obviously terrified of the disturbing reaction she held to seeing her face on his phone, or what he thought was her face. 

“You fucking asshole.” She growled. If this was his idea of a practical joke, Y/n was ready to make him single. Gojo’s eyes grew like a mass, quickly turning his phone back only to see what caused such a profuse reaction. The image hadn’t changed and was the same exact photo as previously of Inoue Waka propped up on her knees sitting in the sand as her breasts nearly poured out of her excuse of a bikini.

“Shit! I promise I thought I hit save- just give me a second, I’m panicking!” He screeched. His fingers moved at the speed of light as Satoru helplessly tried to set his girlfriend’s smiling face as his background, hoping to at least save some ground between the couple. What he failed to notice in his alarmed state was Y/n reaching out for her phone, scrolling through her photo album and setting a new image on hers. 

“No, no, it’s fine, Gojo, really. I’ll just change my background to a picture of my favorite guy.” The smile she wore was not one of love, no it held more malice, evilness like she had just completed a plot to end the world. Satoru’s head nudged to the side, his eyebrows pulled together in a line of skepticism. 

“I’m already your background, princess…” He mumbled. Clarity was granted as the girl tossed her cellphone, to which he caught with ease. Clicking the power button, Gojo gave a dramatized gasp.

“Is… is that Suguru?! How’d you get this picture? Did he send this to you? Oh my god I’m going to kill him-” 

“I think he looks cute.” Y/n smirked. Obviously it was all a ruse to get back at him for his immaturity, but she couldn’t help the sense of pride creeping up at the over the top reaction from Gojo. The photo itself came from a night out the couple shared, one with their usual third wheel, Geto. Four shots in and five mixed drinks, Suguru was having quite the time, which led to a gallery full of images that he insisted the three took together- and if Gojo would look a little closer, he’d notice the small wisps of pure white hair sticking out from the edge of the cropped image, but Y/n didn’t need to tell him that, it was far more amusing to see him frantic. 

Large blue eyes pleaded up at her as Gojo kneeled in front of the bed, his hands folded like prayer.

“Princess, please put my picture back! I changed mine back to you- please!”

Her finger tapped against the blush to her cheek, pretending to be lost in thought. This was pure torture as Gojo continued to beg at her feet. 

“Hm. I’m not sure- I do have a picture of that adorable first year Haibara in there somewhere…” No, absolutely not, that was Satoru’s last straw. No way in hell would his beautiful girlfriend have a photo of that first year sorcerer always obsessed with impressing Suguru as her background- never ever! Gojo was already annoyed their peer favored his best friend over himself, but having his own girlfriend joke about giving them attention, fuck no.  Holding her phone above his head and out of her teasing reach, Satoru screeched, 

“Ah! You’re going to replace me with a first year?! What?!”

Folding her arms in a crossed fashion against her chest, Y/n gave the hysterical teen a ‘told you so’ glare. 

“Now you know how I felt.” She said matter-of-factly. 

Satoru had to physically bite his tongue to keep the word ‘brat’ from tumbling past his lips. Yes, he used the term as one of endearment, but that was when the two were in their usual jovial mood- now was not the time and now. Gojo understood what she was hinting at, he got the message she was referring to their earlier argument and the various comments he had made towards the famous model, but that didn’t mean he agreed with her. In his mind, there was a clear difference between joking about having a crush on someone in the public eye and joking about having a crush on a fellow classmate. 

“Well at least my background was a celebrity that I have no real chance with. If you asked that first year out he’d probably say yes on the spot then pass out- and Suguru would say yes just to spite me!” His voice was teetering a cry as he threw his head against the bed. 

“I would never actually ask them out, Satoru. In case you haven’t noticed, I love you. Why do you think I was so upset about all those things you said before you and Suguru left? You basically admitted I’m not your dream girl but some famous, perfectly perfect model, who I look nothing like, is. Then you went on about how lucky I should feel being with you, as if I’m not already insecure about our relationship.” Gojo’s heart sunk at her words, regret filling his insides. “It hurt my feelings, Satoru.”

“I’m sorry, princess… I really am. I never meant to hurt you, I guess I thought I was being funny but… it’s really not true.” For the first time in maybe ever, Satoru’s tone sounded different. His voice no longer held that casual cockiness and confidence it usually oozed, no, he sounded timid… possibly the most serious he’s ever sounded in his life. The man who played life like it was the board game itself now stood before the woman he loved looking scared. Y/n’s face scrunched in question, slightly taken aback by the sincerity he expressed. 

“What’s not true?”

“What I said about Inoue Waka, she’s not my dream girl, you are.” Satoru stated. He needed Y/n to see the truth to his words, to believe she was the only girl for him, because she was. As fun as it was to tease his girlfriend, it was only amusing when she was in on the joke. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her. Satoru could see now how truly uncomfortable she was with his comments and it made him feel like a piece of shit knowing he planted a seed of insecurity in her mind. 

It was almost as if Gojo could see the shield Y/n placed around herself, around her heart. She was a hard one to crack, but getting to be the soul she finally let inside meant the entire word to Satoru and he had no intention of breaking that trust ever again. 

“And I’m the one who’s so fucking lucky to get to call you mine. You’re everything I could ever ask for in a girlfriend and more. You put up with me and you’re the only person who ever laughs at my jokes- and you know all my favorite snacks and treats… you even know all the things I’m scared of, which losing you is at the top of my list. I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt us, or made you feel insecure… I really am sorry, Y/n.”

The room turned quiet as Gojo’s confession hung in the air. Y/n didn’t speak, she wouldn’t even move. Instead, her eyes planted on the blanket in her lap, mindlessly losing herself in the pattern while her mind raced, replaying his words over and over again. Gojo examined her odd behavior, part of him perplexed at her lack of response. Y/n had a response for everything, for every situation. For the first time in their two year relationship Gojo was witnessing her in a speechless state, and for as much as he joked about her bratness and stubborn ways, he hated not hearing her voice. A minute passed until Satoru decided he had enough of missing her sound. As he opened his mouth, about to ask if she was okay, a shout sounded from her throat. 

“Ugh! I hate when you do that!” Y/n cried out. There was a thin row of salty tears teetering her waterline. Dread filled Gojo at the sight. He never meant to make her cry. Standing to his feet Satoru sat himself next to her on the bed, his hands reaching out to grasp her own in trepidation. His thumb drew anxious circles across her skin, a method he’d learned that usual calmed her down, yet her tears steadily fell. 

“W-What? Do what?” He asked in a wavering voice. With her free hand, Y/n harshly rubbed at her eyes, wiping the tears that continued to roll down her reddening cheeks. A few splashed against his hand that clutched hers, but he didn’t care. A scarlet ring formed around her e/c eyes as she glanced up to Satoru, a mix of agitation and sadness filling her. 

“When you’re all sweet and say things that make my insides feel like they’re all mushy and- ugh, I hate how much I love you. It’s so annoying!” She cried out. 

A wave of solace splash his bay at her words, along with the returning embrace as her hand squeezed his. He let out a sigh of relief, grateful his words had caused good tears this time. Bringing her hand up to his face, Gojo danced a trail of kisses along her knuckles and smiled. Still holding her hand, Satoru lightly urged the girl to lay back on the mattress and he climbed in next to her. Her head rested softly against the pillow, Gojo’s arm encircling her waist as he turned her body to face his. Once he could see her beautiful face, he let his hand wrap under her chin with a feather light grip. 

“I happen to love how much you love me, pretty girl.” 

His lips pressed a sweet kiss to her temple, then placed another to her forehead, then lastly a chaste and loving kiss to her lips. Y/n nuzzled her head against his touch, the shakiness to her breathing beginning to slow. Gojo removed his hand from her chin as he felt her wiggling closer until her head was laid up on his chest. The sound of his heart beat echoed in her ear and she cuddled into his warmth. A comfortable blanket of peace took control of the room as the couple enjoyed the feeling of holding one another. Satoru’s hand ran up and down her back in an act of comfort. His touch always made her feel more at ease. The moment of tranquility lasted a good portion until Y/n briefly pulled herself away from Gojo, an unfamiliar gleam to her gaze. Satoru tilted his head, unfamiliar to the unusual look, when Y/n lifted her hand to stroke the side of his cheek, as she spoke in a mask of sweetness,

“I swear Satoru, if you ever set Inoue Waka as your homescreen again, I’ll murder you then chop your body up and dump it in the ocean.” One might expect a rational response to such a threat would be fear, not Satoru Gojo. A cheesy grin broke out as his hold tightened around her body, pulling her closer to him.

“I know you will, princess, and that’s why I love you… even if you are a brat at times.”

Her hand smacked against her arm, faking a pout while snuggling further in. 

“Shut up, you love me because I’m a brat.” She remarked. They both knew it was true. Satoru could feign annoyance over her attitude, he could pretend she was too ‘difficult’ for him, but in all honesty, bratty was exactly the way Satoru loved her. 

“You know me too well.”

[reidrum]

the many names | s.r

a/n: i could not get the idea that spencer would have little explanations for all the names he has for you so i give you this enjoy

summary: in which the many names that spencer calls you each have a special meaning

cw: mind rotting fluff

wc: 1.1k

honey:

spencer’s childhood was anything but ordinary. graduating high school at 12, with a schizophrenic mother, and an absentee father is a combo meant to mess anyone up. the one thing he felt was constant were the sitcoms his mother would watch when she had her good days. shows like i love lucy and cheers filled his ears as he watched the picture perfect families navigate through mundane and seemingly normal scenarios. the comfort he found in these televised families, something he wasn’t afforded in his own, was a nice little bandaid on the gaping hole left by the oddities of his life.

until he met you, of course. you changed everything for him, showed him what it meant to be loved and cherished, what family really was outside of the textbook definition. as a young boy he’d always envied ricky ricardo coming home to lucy at the end of every work day, bursting through the door and saying “honey, i’m home!” the phrase itself encompassed what he so dearly longed for; a home.

so when spencer calls you honey, he means it because you’re sweet and sappy and all the things normally associated with honey. but for him, specifically, when he gets to come back from harsh cases, bursting through the door of your shared apartment yelling “honey, i’m home!”, it heals that gaping hole from his childhood little by little, replacing the wound with the home you’ve built together.

sweetheart:

for someone who absolutely loves sweet things, calling you sweetheart was an obvious title in his book. the way you cared so deeply for the people in your life, the people you didn’t know, even those involved in heinous crimes were offered some of your never ending empathy. it inspired him, to know that someone who sees the true horrors of humankind on the daily can still hold hope and love for the world’s inhabitants.

when spencer calls you sweetheart, it’s in the more domestic moments of your lives. when he asks which tea you want, when he can tell it’s been a rough day and he lets you rest in the comfort of his arms saying “it’s okay, sweetheart. i’m here now.”, when he leaves you long and loving voicemails for when you’re not able to go on cases together. spencer’s sweet tooth could probably never be satiated, but if it keeps you around forever he has no problem with that.

angel:

calling you angel is still something he finds a little ironic. he’s an agnostic atheist, has no faith in the gods or whatever power that may be. he’d always say if you couldn’t find it in a textbook then it’s not a real thing. but here you were, defying literally everything he ever knew or thought he knew. spencer thinks that if angels were personified they would surely look like you.

his job has so many moments that put him in near death situations, he’s not proud of how many times he’s felt the pearly gates come for him. but every time he was close to that end, flashes of you would roll through his mind like a movie reel and it would tether him back to this realm.

add to that, you just always happened to be there when he needed you. if he was about to drop a cup of coffee you’d be there grab it, you had his back when you were on the field together, and you’d let him talk your ear off about the most obscure topic just to see him smile.

if proof existed for the theoretical, it would be you. you were his guardian angel, and he never let you forget it.

princess:

this one was rare, only invoked in the super intimate and special moments between you both. usually in the bedroom is where you hear this one used in both sides of the extreme. on one side he says it when you’re being just so needy, so pliant and willing for whatever he wants it just makes him want to give you everything in return. on the other side, when you’re being for lack of a better word, a brat, it’s used as a tease, a taunt for your slutty bad behavior. a reminder that even though you’re spoiled by him he’s still going to give you the world.

it’s also used when you both get dressed up, for an fbi event or a party at rossi’s. it always takes the wind out of him when he sees you getting ready or you come out to show your outfit to him. it makes him feel like falling in love with you again every time, like he’s been so blessed to live a fairytale where he prevails and gets the princess at the end.

baby:

calling you baby is quite literally second nature to spencer, probably the easiest thing for him to do. it slips out all the time people might think baby is your real name. he uses it when he asks what you want for dinner, when you’re upset over something he did at work that put him in danger, when he just really wants you to watch this one russian romance film he finally got his hands on and promises you’ll love it.

you also find it really funny to play songs that you know he doesn’t know that have the word baby in it, because even if he doesn’t know the words to always be my baby to mariah carey, it never stops him from giving you the biggest smile in the universe when he listens to you belt the song to him.

pretty girl:

he didn’t even come up with this one, derek did. stemming from his nickname for spencer, when derek realized that there was something between you and pretty boy, it just became so easy to get under his skin and call you pretty girl, telling him “don’t look now, your pretty girl is coming.”. before you had started dating and spencer was just pining from afar, he would get so red in the face when derek would let the name slip.

after he finally grew some balls and asked you out, spencer adopted the name for himself to use in situations he had you alone, where he could admire you in your entirety and no other prying eyes. to use when you just wake up and the sunlight hits you perfectly like a glowing halo, or when you’re both in the office and you’re explaining something relevant to the case and you just sound so smart and beautiful, and he can’t help but truly believe that the aphrodite reincarnate is his.

[signedkoko]

Could I get a Mammon, Vox and Husk with a S/O who gets harassed on the street and their reaction? You can have full creative control over what type of harassment!

I love your fics- if this isn’t getting the creative juices flowing just let me know and I’ll request something different <3

🦷 anon

Husk | Mammon | Vox [Romantic]

In which some loathsome idiot thinks they'll get away with harassing their beloved s/o.

One of your favourite date nights is spent bar hopping

Pop a drink or two in each one, sometimes sharing one cocktail, his wing draped around you, your head leant on his shoulder, humming to the music surrounding you

Both of you had a preference for the less popular spots, the kinds of places you got the weirdest combinations, where he could be inspired and you could give him thoughts

The plus side of the smaller joints was that the music was never too loud, drinks were cheaper, and there was always a few spots free at the bar

Downside was that most places had their regulars, the kind of people who couldn't get in anywhere else

The kind of desperation that builds and spreads like mold in the corner of a dark room next to a leaky pipe

On a few occasions, someone would harmlessly ask to buy you a drink and would turn tail when Husk gave them his usually 'fuck off' look

But this time, the guy would just not get the hint

" What? Already claimed dibs on the bitch? "

Yeah- no, that attitude towards you is not going to fly

Not even three seconds and there's a bottle smashed on the drunk demons head, and three cards flying back into Husk's hand

That's when the bleeding starts

You slap a 20 down for your bill and jump straight up, already being dragged by Husk out the door

Insists if he stayed there you would have both gotten banned anyways, and he likes that spot

You guys don't really go out so casually without a good reason, or just for old times sake

A sin and his spouse on a city street in greed was just asking for bad things to happen

But still, if you asked and he had nothing that day, Mammon would always rather get quality time with you and people watch

Thats most of your conversation, pointing out demons and joking about what you think they are like, what the do, how they speak

It's always a fun game, until some newcomer saw you laughing at him and marched right up, clearly on something and clearly ready to have a go at someone

The moment he reaches for your wrist, his thumb falls to the floor, a messy and jagged cut the only sign of attack besides one of Mammons spider legs now revealed

Before he can even realize the pain or what's happened, Mammon lets out a menacing laugh

" Every extra inch towards my broad is another finger. "

That demon was already screaming and running away, most the crowd on the street that was watching now hurrying in any direction opposite of you and Mammon

" I'm only worth one finger? "

" Nah. Just being generous for once. "

Not really a street guy, but unfortunately some press conferences and events require mingling and interacting with others, which he never liked

Thankfully, with you he has an excuse to stay away from others, or show you off

He usually goes for the latter

He's all 'Have you met my wife?' 'My wife loves x and y!' 'Isn't my wife absolutely gorgeous?'

You are the first topic he speaks of after his company; you'd be the first if he didn't have to waste so much time being a salesman, but that is how the cookie crumbles

Sometimes when there's specific press releases, he has to send you off for a moment, where you usually go and mingle with some of the others in his industry you befriended

During one such interview, he couldn't help but spot out the corner of his eye, some lousy business woman drape her arm around your waist and grab at your hip

" Sorry yeah, this interview is over. "

Literally shoves his way over, sparks and electricity flying, to rip you out of her arms

" Baaabe, is this a friend? Whatever the case, we really gotta get going! "

Jealousy 3000

He's glad he stepped in after he overhears that lady had a habit of harassing other attendees

New clause in every interview; they have to include you or provide security over you while he is busy

Author's Note - Tooth anon comes in for another PIPIN HOT request!! I actually feel so bad because every time I take a break form writing is on yoru request and that really makes it look bad I am so sorry 😩

[makelemonade]

BEST FRIENDS TO FUCK FRIENDS - GENSHIN MEN

Warnings; NSFW, (18+), Female Reader, implied to have a big chest (not crazy big like be realistic) and a GYATT (sorry), p in v sex, seductiveness, implied squiring, a little sprinkle of degradation (use of the word “slut”), Semi-Public, unwanted pics (He wanted them), mentions of jerking off/masturbation, sinful thoughts of your best friend, raw sex, idk tell me if I missed anything, HORRIBLY WRITTEN SMUT. ITS SO BAD.

Notes; I was supposed to write this for Thoma originally so if this name is somewhere in here…ignore it. If you like this, support me on kofi! Link in masterlist!

You’ve been his best friend since secondary school, and you couldn’t deny the feelings you had for him within high school.

You always denied it though, because you just couldn’t ruin the friendship. But, now you’re both in university, stuff changes and you definitely grew some stuff..

Your feelings for him turn into sexual desires when you realize it’s been a long time since you’ve done anything. You’ve been so occupied with university that you couldn’t even spend some time on yourself…

What sets everything off is when he invites you to his house in the spring to swim. Seeing those abs and the water dripping off his chest…holy shit. Is it bad you wanted to lick all that water off or?

You bring up the topic of friends with benefits, but not between you two (yet), just what he thinks of it.

When he isn’t opposed to one with a friend, that’s what changes your mindset completely. You knew he wasn’t the best at making those type of moves, but with your assets…

It starts a week later when you ask to sleepover at his house after a party. He agrees.

This is gonna sound crazy, but you purposely puked over yourself by drinking too much so he could give you his shirt. You decided, that not wearing any shorts was now your way of sleeping!

So, here you were in his room, in his shirt, black underwear that was hardly covered, and a bed for the both of you to share.

He gulped, lingering for a while but said nothing and just got into bed. He was gonna think about your ass for a while.

You got in beside him, and maybe an hour later if he’s asleep and you’re not, you’ll secretly inch yourself closer to him, so when he wakes up and finds your hardly covered ass rubbing against him, he’ll have to go to the bathroom.

What sets him off completely is in the morning when you stretch, your arms going up and exposing your bare legs and stomach. He couldn’t stop staring.

The next step isn’t too far away; Maybe 2 weeks later. He invited you to come for a swim again, and this one was a hard decision between a bikini or a horribly fabricated shirt that exposed everything.

You decided to go for a bikini that didn’t have the best fabric, so when it got wet…

“A bikini?” He spoke. “What happened to your shorts and shirts?” You usually never went with bikinis, if it wasn’t obvious already.

You shrugged. “Change of habit.”

The cold water made your nipples pop, going through the fabric completely. Did I mention the bikini was also white?

This, is what gets him thinking about you a lot from now on.

Later in the week you’re FaceTiming him, and he noticed the change in clothes. You’re wearing a dress from HIGH SCHOOL. It was so small that the side of your breasts were out.

He had no shame in hiding the fact he was staring at them the entire FaceTime.

In the middle of taking, you pretended to drop your phone by your leg, but he didn’t expect that when you’d pick it up, he’d catch a glimpse of his favourite colour as your tight panties before you quickly moved the phone back up.

He has to hang up 5 minutes later.

Now, your next idea is gonna sound absolutely horrible.

You took pictures of yourself, none of you naked but had a sexy lingerie set in his favourite colour and sent them to him on Messages

And 2 seconds later you’re spamming him on Snapchat,

DON’T OPEN MY IMESSAGE

IGNORE IT

I DIDN’T MEAN TO SEND IT TO YOU.

Now, he’s curious, so of course he tells you he won’t look and says he’ll delete the chat.

But really he’ll save them to his phone and definitely jerk off to them.

Now, the next step is the final step, and takes the most courage.

You invite him out to the club, wearing a sexy right black dress that showed your curves perfectly.

Since this was gonna take up a lot of courage, you took maximum 2 shots to get your mindset a little changed for this.

He takes the same amount you do, and you’ve both been to multiple parties where you’ve gotten blackout drunk; 2 shots would make sure you’d remember everything.

When the both of you make your way to the dance floor, you’re shaking, but you keep telling yourself you can do this.

The next song plays and you’re both dancing together,

And the next thing he knew, you’ve turned around and you’re grinding your ass right on his pelvis. He freezes for a bit, and you’re scared; Have you gone too far?

But suddenly, his hands are on your hips and he’s moving the two of you to the rhythm, keeping your ass pressed against him.

You dance like this for another minute or 2 and then he moves his arms up around your waist, pulling your back against his chest as he starts to kiss your neck, sucking on it.

You let out moans, wishing he could hear them.

One hand makes its way up to grope your tit, he could already feel your nipple with how tight your dress was. “No bra?” He spoke into your ear so seductively, making you whimper.

He then grab your arms, dragging you to the washroom.

~~~

The small washroom mirror is steamed as your pressed against it, sat atop the sink, the both of you sloppily making out as his dick pushed in and out of of your cunt, your fluids dripping all over your thighs.

“Fucking slut,” He grunted, throwing his head back at the pure bliss. “You knew what you’ve been doing, haven’t you? All those, fuck, pictures? The bikini?”

You just grinned, tongue lolling out as your eyes rolled back into your head. “Nghh- fuck!”

He slapped the side of your ass, “Tell me how much of a slut you are, since you wanna be treated like one”

“Mmm- FUCK! I’m a slut, I’m your fucking slut, nghh~!”

“Good girl,” He panted, fucking into you harder. “I dreamed of this.” He groaned, laughing. “Fucking this tight pussy. It-fuck! Belongs to me now.”

Somehow, his thrusts became even harder, making you scream as you clawed at this back, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. “Don’t stop!”

“Scream louder, maybe you’ll beat the music,” He snorted, and you wanted to slap the grin off his face, but you’re met with pure bliss as you meet your high.

“I’m cumming!Imcummingimcumming!”

You screamed as your fluids gushed all over his pelvis and he kept fucking into you. Maybe you beat the music.

It didn’t take long until he came into you. Ropes of his warm seed plastering your insides. He panted, resting his head on your shoulder.

You both stayed like that for a few minutes, the both of you too overstimulated to move.

At some point he pulled out, making you whine. His cum was starting to spill out and he shook his head, shoving 2 fingers in.

“Let’s go back to my place, I’m not done with you yet.”

-THOMA, ITTO, ALHAITHAM, KAVEH, AYATO, Tighnari, Albedo, CYNO, CHILDE, Pantalone, DILUC, Kaeya, ZHONGLI, Xiao, NEUVILLETTE, Wriothesly

[1pepsiboy]

Car video with Matt Sturniolo - Fluff! (request)

Matt Sturniolo x reader!

Word count: 1.1K

Warnings: swearing, a little kissing

A/N: This one got away from me and I had to reign it back in because it's not supposed to be smutty lmaooo But here it is!

***

It’s close to midnight as Matt parks the van in a random spot at the favorite lot. The two of you got fries, chicken nuggets with sweet n’ sour sauce (mostly for him), and a large milkshake to share. You plan to do a car video to post on his individual channel.

You have no idea what you were going to talk about. Matt had fans submit their own questions for you two to answer.

After setting up the camera, which included Matt going out to check it, you start recording and picking at the food.

Matt starts the video off. "Hey everyone, (y/n) and I are here. Uhm... basically we're going to do our own car video without Nick and Chris. We don't really have a topic, but you guys submitted questions on instagram. Babe, have anything to start us off?"

Now, he looks at you as you’re mid fry. You chew quickly as possible, wiping your hands on a napkin, as he giggles under his breath.

"Thanks for the warning," you remark with a laugh. "Uhm, not really... I'm just here for the vibes."

"For the vibes?" Matt crooks a brow and looks you up and down. Then he takes a nugget and dips in the sauce.

You roll your eyes. "Don't yuck my yum."

Matt stuffs the nugget in his mouth. "Okay, Chris."

All you do is flip him off and take a sip of the milkshake.

"Just ask the questions."

"Okay, okay." He laughs as he readjusts in his seat after grabbing his phone. It's quiet for a couple minutes while he gathers them. "Oh, let's start with this one. What's our favorite thing about each other?"

"Well-"

"Oh, quick disclaimer, sorry babe." Matt shoots you a nervous smile. "I will edit screenshots of the questions onto the screen so you can see who they're from. And uh.. if you'd like to get featured in videos, follow us on instagram to see the next time I ask for questions. I'll put the @s on the screen and in the description below."

You slowly chew on your straw after taking another sip, patiently waiting for him to be done. It's already been fifteen minutes and you are almost positive Matt forgot the extra battery pack. Granted, you could've asked Nick where it was and brought it; too late.

"Okay, what were you going to say?" Matt prompts.

You think about making another snarky remark in how it'd been so long since he asked the question that you don't remember it.

Tapping the straw on your pursed lips, you pretend to think. "Well... I have many favorite things so it's an unfair question."

Matt lightly rolls his eyes. "Look, I know you love everything about me, but what's your favorite?"

"Oh, everything?" You laugh. "You think so highly of yourself, don't you, Matty B? Let's go the different route then." You look directly into the camera. "Guys, this kid will not accept anything sort of unorganized or clean. Not for more than five minutes if he can help it."

Matt's jaw drops and he snatches the cup out of your hand. "Your least favorite thing is how organized I am?"

"Yeah, live a little! You won't die if there's like a wrapper or two on your desk, or if the toothbrush isn't in the holder."

"You are an absolute monster, (y/n)!" Matt cracks. He points between you and the camera. "Don't believe a single word she says. She leaves more than a wrapper or two, and her skincare is all over my bathroom counter after she does her morning routine."

You shrug. "I don't see a problem with that, and I don't think the fans will either."

"Guys, leave a comment if you're more like me or (y/n)." He barely scoffs under his breath, eating another fry. "You're lucky you have other amazing qualities that I overlook the messiness."

Now, you couldn't help blushing. “Such as?”

Matt shakes his head, a smile spreading on his lips. “You’re understanding about a lot going on, you know, like the channels, life, and stuff. So it’s easy to talk to you about it, like if I’m ever anxious or something.”

“Top fucking notch quality right there,” you say. “Anything else? I love the praise.”

“I thought this was reserved for in private, babe.”

Your eyes go wide and you almost spit out the fry you just put in your mouth. “Matthew! Stop!”

Matt giggles under his breath. “Sorry. Uhm… You can rock a men’s polo and make the best playlists for me… Obviously you have such a vibrant personality.” 

“That I do.” You nod in agreement. You reach out to brush back some of his hair, causing some pinkness to rouge on his cheeks. “I love how cautious you are about decisions, keeps me from letting impulsive thoughts win.”

“Which is a lot,” he shoots a look at the camera.

You can only roll your eyes in response. “Anyway… You’re the most caring person I know that will drop anything to help someone you love. The only time you won’t ask a lot of questions… Oh! You’re actually the best big spoon ever.”

He bites his bottom lip, failing to hold back a cheesy grin. “Really, babe?”

“Absolutely.” 

You close the space between you, and Matt instinctively rests his hand in the crook of your neck. You crawl over the center console onto his lap when you realize it wouldn’t be just a few kisses.

Time gets away and you sort of forget that you are filming. Your hands roam each other’s bodies over and under clothes. Both of you leave butterfly kisses on the other’s neck.

The lights in the van suddenly dim away.

“Shit. Fuck,” Matt says, his lips pink from yours and hair tousled more than usual. “I think the camera died.”

“And we technically only answered one question.” You bite your lip with a laugh. 

He laughs with you, running a hand through his hair. He lays back and looks you in the eyes. “I should’ve known not to start with that question.”

“Should we try doing this again on a different night?”

Matt sighs heavily. “Probably… It would suck to scrap all the footage though.”

A smirk rises on your lips as you move back to the passenger seat. “You want to include clips of us making out?”

“Obviously no.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Let’s just keep going then. Use my phone to record.”

Matt kisses the crook of your neck. “You’re the best, babe.”

You shoot him a look. “Be careful, Matthew.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He throws his hands up in defense. (He really wasn’t that sorry.)

*You can request others from this list or send me new ones!*

[livlaughloveluke]

ᡣ𐭩 𝗶𝗻 𝗮 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘄𝗮𝘆

daughter of hypnos! reader x luke castellan 💤

IN WHICH.. luke is dating the sleepiest girl around💘

🎧- in a good way by faye webster

“and i know you’ve been having nightmares lately, and i’m sorry i fall asleep first”

[headcannons]

he totally calls you “sleepy.” 

it started off when he was a dumb teen, just him being an idiot and teasing everyone. but i mean, the name wasn’t exactly incorrect. and so it stuck, carrying along as you grew into a young adult and began dating !

he’s such a sweetheart when it comes to you. while he gently yells at the campers for their lack of effort, he would never even think about raising his voice when speaking to you. even if you skipped training because you “needed to rest.” (you had slept a full ten hours before)

but when you did show up for archery or sword fighting, he’s over the moon, showering you with praise.

“that was amazing!” 

“you did so good today, sleepy.”

(you shot two arrows and then dipped)

nightly stargazing!! 

you and luke spend hours laying on top the grassy hill, staring above at the twinkling stars. you pointed out all the constellations, and luke would point to a star and say it was yours.

“thats our star, babe.”

“luke that’s part of the orion.”

he would sneak into your cabin on his restless nights, and you would comb your fingers through his hair to send him into a deep sleep. and you made sure all he had sweet dreams instead of his haunting nightmares.

reading him stories all the time ! 

he hates reading, since all of the words get scrambled and it hurts his brain to put the letters back together. but when chiron adjusts the temperature so it would rain and water the strawberry fields, there wasn’t many indoor activities to do. so, you let him pick a book you could read together on those rainy days.

after a week visit to your home, you brought back your record player and some of your favorite vinyls, and luke was absolutely fascinated. he never really listened to music before, so hearing such majestic sounds was a new experience. now every time you travel back into the world, he requests a new album. he’ll listen to it on repeat until you’ve acquired a different record.

you would share abstract stories about monsters, greek heros, and other intriguing topics to the campers around the bonfire, while luke stared with hearts in his eyes. he like to think that one day, hundreds of years from now, a camper would be reciting a story about you and him. the daughter of hypnos and the son of hermes, two children who were the closest depiction of soulmates ever known. 

secret weekly sleepovers in cabin 15 were a necessity ! 

he always showed up with a bouquet of wildflowers, and one small yellow daisy for each of your siblings.

all of your brothers and sisters loved him, constantly dragging him into family board game night.

similar to stargazing, watching for clouds !

when you had free time, you were constantly laying in the dry fields and staring up above at the clouds, trying to picture them as objects.

“it’s a cowboy hat!”

“that’s clearly a toad in a sailboat.”

୨୧

MASTERLISTS 𓏲𝄢 REQUEST / TALK TO ME 𓏲𝄢 RULES

[dipperscavern]

can I be cheeky and ask for riding jon’s face 🫣🫣🫣

yes… oh yes you absolutely can….. i fell asleep last night to the thought of jon snow canonically being a munch (funny enough) — we’re on the same wavelength anon ! (written w shy!reader in mind)

you’ve heard the talk, heard the different ladies from different statures talk about “the act”, and it’s always a different answer. some say it’s mediocre… others, that it’s their favorite way to feel good, and some, say it’s terrible. you’ve heard stories of men never caring about the woman’s pleasure, and how their only purpose was to give them children. the thought made you shudder.

you, yourself, have never had time. time to freely choose who you trust enough to share that sacred experience with (or even touch yourself). the men at castle black are sworn to celibacy, and even if they would abandon their oath for a night with you, you wouldn’t let them. most of the men at the wall are untrustworthy, and you want more than just a quick fuck. even if these thoughts plague you, you’re too busy with your duties to worry about it. a thing you’ve since long accepted.

until jon snow.

you had been there for jon since his arrival at castle black. never batting an eye at his surname, always trying to make his life a little bit easier. there was also the stolen glances, the soft touches you both passed off as “accidental”, the longing for each other. you both remained as merely “close friends”, until things boiled over and you found solace in each others lips. it didn’t go farther than that, the tentative kiss being soft & exploring, and that was okay with you. you didn’t expect more. until you got more.

sometimes, you hate jon for being so easy to talk to. your shy nature has slowly melted away in his presence, and you find yourself unable to be embarrassed about the questions you ask or answer. your late night talks are what keeps jon sane. he wants to know everything about you, and you both would talk till morning if you could (you have before). the topic often shifts, landing on anything and everything on the planet. even “the act”.

imagine jon’s surprise, when the most beautiful & endearing woman he’s ever met drops her gaze to the floor and bashfully tells him she’s never cum before.

jon short circuits. he asks if you want to. he asks if he can make you. and you say yes.

jon snow is a giver. tasting a woman is a pleasure in itself, and he’d tell you as much if you asked. his mind ran a million miles an hour, thinking about all the ways he could make you feel good. it doesn’t take long before the desire to taste you takes a hold of him, and so he does.

“You’re hovering.”

he’s not wrong. you are. you thought you had heard it all, but the act of sitting on someone’s face has clearly alluded your ears. you’re unsure. you don’t want to hurt him.. suffocating the first man you lay with would have you begging the gods to open the ground and swallow you whole. and it’s not just any man, it’s jon.

the soft glide of jon’s fingers across your thigh bring you out of your head. his hands are cold. they feel nice in contrast to your own skin, nerves lit on fire.

“I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You won’t.”

“Jon-”

“Do you trust me?”

he’s steadfast in his reassurance. his thumb has been rubbing circles in your hip while you both have been talking. does he do it all on purpose, or is he just this naturally desirable?

“You know I do, but-“

“Good. Sit.”

you still hesitate, and that’s when jon takes matters into his own hands. his hands stop their tracing, and instead grip your thighs, bringing you down himself.

whatever expectations you had are exceeded tenfold. jon eats you out like a man starved. your head spins with the way you can feel his tongue, exploring you and swiping over your clit. it has white hot pleasure shooting up your spine, and your thighs quiver ever so slightly, but jon’s firm grip keeps you in place. he’s confident in his movements, precise and sure in a way that makes you see stars.

jon thinks he’s found the place where he would be content to meet his demise. you taste so good, and the pretty sounds you’re making have blood rushing straight to his cock. jon has always loved the sound of his name on your lips — whether it be small acknowledgments in passing by, or just mentions in mere conversation. but he’s found he much prefers hearing you moan it.

you’re almost embarrassed how quickly he has warmth building up in your belly, pressure building as he gives you the most pleasure you’ve ever had. he’s giving and giving and giving, and you find yourself selfishly taking all of it. he doesn’t slow down, keeping a steady rhythm that makes the cord in your stomach wind impossibly tighter.

“Jon, I’m-!”

you don’t get to finish your sentence, interrupted by the snap of the cord in your stomach that was previously tightening. pleasure overtakes your nerves, flooding your veins and momentarily removing your ability to speak (or think). jon’s tongue doesn’t stop fully, only slowing down to help you ride out your peak.

you catch your breath, feeling jon kiss the inside of your thighs as small aftershocks have you clenching around nothing. you find yourself seeking his touch (as if he hasn’t been constantly on you), your hand running along the surface of your thigh to find his own. he reaches for you, trapping your own smaller hand beneath his own. it’s reassuring, grounding you back to the present after he brought you so far over the edge.

you move to get off, to let him get up & breathe — but he doesn’t release his grip, keeping you in place. you hear him speak.

“Only once?”

[holdmytesseract]

dad-to-be!Daryl absolutely pampering reader. She's just started experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions and she's scared about the real deal happening soon, so Daryl takes it upon himself to help her relieve some stress. Bathing her, making her food—or, well, trying to—painting her nails with some nail polish he got from Maggie or someone, etc. just sweet Daryl all around.

Love you if you write this, love you if you don't! Don't feel pressured at all, love 💜

In This Together

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: Starting to experience Braxton Hicks, your archer is more than adamant to be by your side.

Warnings: usual TWD stuff? fluff, pregnancy stuff, mentions of a injury and a fight, bit angst, protective!Daryl

Set in the beginning of Season 9!

Word Count: 3,3k

a/n: Here we are. Dad-to-be!Daryl! 🥰

Thank you SO much for sending me this, @dixons-sunshine ! I LOVED writing it! 🧡 I hope you don't mind that I, uh, drifted 'off-topic' a bit. The writing department in my brain just has its own mind... 🫣

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"So... This is nothing I have to be afraid of?" You asked hesitatingly; voice still thick with concern. Siddiq gave you a bright smile, which was a clear attempt to nip your worries in the bud. "No, Y/N, absolutely not. It's perfectly normal and important to experience Braxton Hicks. And besides it's an indication that my estimations are correct. You're about twenty-eight weeks along now, I'd say - in time frame for that to happen." You nodded; finding Siddiq's reassuring words truly helpful. "O-Okay... But there's nothing I can do about it, right?" "No, sorry. You just have to go through them." You gave the doctor another nod, "Alright..." and moved to sit up on the makeshift examination table; Siddiq immediately offering you a hand to help you up - which you gladly took. "Thanks." The man smiled at you once more and stood to his feet as well; placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Just remember, it's important for your body. It's practice." "Yeah," you answered; rubbing the back of your neck. "Won't change that Daryl's gonna be worried sick... Dunno if he knows what Braxton Hicks are." Siddiq chuckled; knowing exactly what you meant. He got to know the archer way better the past months, and knew what he was 'capable' of...

"Explain it to him like I did to you. He'll understand." "Mhm, yeah, gotta try." You offered the man opposite you a last smile, patting your thigh to gain the attention of your furry, four-legged friend and headed for the door; "Thanks, Siddiq!" Dog following close behind. "Sure thing, Y/N." The doctor watched you leave, before he returned to his work.

You made your way slowly back to the basement apartment you and the archer shared. It took you about two times longer now to head from the infirmary back home; due to the pregnancy and its side effects. Your feet were swollen and hurting, just like your back now and then. It could be quite frustrating from time to time, especially when your husband wasn't around to give you endless foot rubs and massages - just like at the moment. Daryl was stationed and working at the bridge since almost two weeks now... You missed him - a lot. The daily conversations over the walkie-talkie weren't just enough anymore.

Knowing he'd be away for at least a month, he left Dog with you; trusting the faithful canine to keep you safe. He did and seemed to understand exactly what his dad asked him to do. Dog was like glued to your side; never leaving. You thought it was adorable and utterly precious.

Closing the door of the basement behind yourself and Dog, you grabbed the walkie-talkie and plopped down on the sofa with a sigh. Since the sun had started to sink, you hoped that Daryl could spare some time for you now to talk. Sure, he always did, but you hated to keep him from important things. After all, he was an important figure in this whole construction Rick and everyone else had built over the years. Daryl wasn't 'just' a right-hand-man anymore... He was a leader - and you weren't just talking about the Sanctuary.

"Daryl?" You pressed the button of the radio and called out his name, before letting go of said button again; waiting for an answer. After a few moments of silence, you tried again. "Dar? You here?"

It took the archer another few moments to answer. "Yeah, 'm here," his slightly static voice suddenly sounded from the small device in your hands; giving you a little scare. "Sorry, sunshine. Been wantin' ta get away from that bridge first 'n into my tent." He paused for a short moment.

"Everything a'right with ya two?"

You smiled; already loving to hear his voice. Dog's ears perked up as well, before he quickly joined you on the sofa and snuggled against your left leg; head resting on your thigh. Your free hand immediately went to give the canine some well-deserved head scratches.

"Hey, baby. Yeah, we're good; just missing you..." An adorable grunt could be heard from the other end. "Don get me started on how much 'm missin' my girls."

Your heart clenched at his words; bottom lip wobbling dangerously. What you would give to curl up in his arms now...

Somewhat between a sob and a laugh was escaping your lips. "Baby, you gotta stop that, or you're gonna make me cry, what in return in going to make our munchkin even more sad." "Even more sad? Whaddaya mean?" Daryl asked; his attention falling on his unborn child in concern. You smiled sadly and started to absentmindedly caress your baby bump; letting go of Dog, who was dozing peacefully.

"She's very unsettled and... antsy. I can feel it. She kicks more than usually a-and well... I think it's because she misses her daddy. She's used to hear your voice, you know, and now it's not there. Over the radio isn't the real thing..."

All you could hear for quite a few moments from 'the other end of the line' was silence. You frowned and just opened your mouth to say something, when you heard his voice again. "'M comin' home," Daryl stated. Your eyes widened. That wasn't your intention... You knew that he had to stay. Rick needed him there, but his words were also so tempting... And the fact that he was willing to drop everything just to drive back to Alexandria in order to calm his unborn daughter caused your ovaries to explode.

But you knew better, unfortunately.

"No, Daryl. You gotta stay. Rick needs you." He scoffed. "But our munchkin needs me more..." Well, damn. That was actually the truth. Valid point. "I know, baby, but I got it, okay? It's only two more weeks..." "Yeah, 's two weeks too much," he grumbled in return. "I know, but look... After that is done you won't have to leave us again until the birth. Rick promised, remember?" Daryl sighed; remembering his brother's words.

You were sure you had convinced him with that; already celebrating your victory over his stubbornness internally, when your body decided to throw a wrench in the works... Hitting you with a Braxton Hicks contraction.

Of course, you didn't see it coming - how could you? And therefore left a loud hiss your lips, followed by a small, yet painful cry, before you were even able to stop it.

You knew right away that you were screwed now. That wasn't how you planned to tell him... Fuck.

"Y/N?!" His panicked voice instantly urged to your ears. And Daryl wasn't the only one worrying... Dog had woken from his sleep by your cry; ears perked. He was wincing and repeatedly nudging you with his wet snout.

"Y/N!" "I-I'm here, Daryl," you radioed back as soon as the mild contraction subsided. Taking a deep breath, your free hand returned to the canine curled up against your side; petting his fur. "I'm okay, Dog, I'm okay..." You reassured Daryl's animal companion.

"Wha' wrong?! Are ya in pain?! Please talk ta me, woman!" You swallowed; redirecting your attention back to your worried husband. "I'm good, don't worry. It's just... I, uh, started having Braxton Hicks..." "Braxton wha'?" "Braxton Hicks... Those are, um, mild contractions. It's something that occurs between the twentieth and thirty-fifth week of pregnancy. My body is, uh, practising for the birth," you explained; biting your lip, before quickly adding: "Siddiq says it's a good thing a-and perfectly normal."

There was silence on the other end for a long moment, before the click-clacking sound of the little device in your hand announced Daryl's voice again. "'M comin' home," he stated once more; now drop-dead serious. "Packin' my stuff right now."

Damnit...

"Baby..." "Nah. Ya ain't talkin' me outta this, Y/N. Yer in pain, havin' fuckin' contractions! 'M comin' home." You sighed; knowing that starting yet another 'discussion' would be most likely fruitless. You couldn't stop him. Not again. "Imma talk ta Rick first thing in the mornin' 'n leave as soon as I can." "I won't win another argument, will I?" "Nah, ya ain't."

You sighed again, but ultimately gave in. "Alright... I'll see you tomorrow then... Be safe and drive carefully, yes?" "Of course, sunshine. Don worry 'bout me. You stay safe, ya hear me?" "Promise." "Good. I love ya. Both 'a ya." "We love you, too."

With yet another sigh, you put the walkie-talkie aside; placing it on the small coffee table in front of you. You didn't want Daryl to cut this 'mission' short just because of a few cramps, but on the other hand, you couldn't deny that you looked forward now to see him again. Two weeks felt like ages.

You smiled; cupping your baby bump once more. "You heard that, munchkin? Daddy's coming home tomorrow."

Daryl had a hard time sleeping that night - naturally. He was way too worried, and therefore just decided to spend the rest of the night on watch; waiting for the sun to rise.

Once the other people in the camp had started their day as well and the place was literally bustling with members of all the various communities, the archer sought out his brother...

"Rick." Said man was currently talking to Cindy and Beatrice from Oceanside as Daryl approached. The former policeman's eyes travelled shortly to Daryl, before he ended his conversation with the two women and shifted his attention. Cindy and Beatrice passed Daryl by; giving the archer a nod, which he answered with a curt jut of his head.

"Mornin'," Rick greeted his brother; hands on his hips. "You good?" The leader was indirectly referring to the last remains of a fight his friend had with Justin - a Savior, few days prior. Daryl had clearly won that argument, but a very prominent cut above his upper lip was the price he had to pay.

The archer put Rick off; "'M fine." quickly dismissing the topic. "But we gotta talk." Rick nodded and gestured at the huge tent only a few yards away, in which everything else got usually discussed as well. Wordlessly, Daryl followed him; stepping through the flaps of the dark green tent.

"I gotta go back home." He didn't beat around the bush. Why should he? "Y/N's experiencin' those... fake contractions, 'n the baby's very restless; givin' 'er a hard time as well. She needs me," Daryl explained; biting the inside of his bottom lip. "I know ya need me 'ere too, 'n 'm sorry, but-" "Y/N and the baby are your priority, I know," Rick interrupted the archer and gave him a smile. "As it should be, Daryl. They're your family. Go home. We got this." He nodded; head lowered. "Thanks, man." Rick smiled once more and gave his brother a pat on the shoulder. "Be safe, yeah?" "Ya too."

Not even ten minutes later was Daryl kneeling beside his bike to strap his crossbow on the vehicle; ready to leave. The camp was bustling with people, and yet found him a specific pair of eyes...

"You're leaving?" Carol asked as she came to stand beside him; arms crossed over her chest. "Without saying goodbye? Shame on you." Daryl looked up, almost apologetically. "Yeah, 'm leavin'. Y/N needs me," he explained; getting to his feet. "But I was gonna say goodbye. I ain't jus' leavin' ya." A frown carved itself immediately in the woman's forehead. "Is everything alright? Y/N and the baby are fine, right?" The archer nodded. "Yeah, jus' some fake contractions 's all, but I wanna help 'er through this. 'Sides the lil' munchkin 's missin' me," he explained; shrugging his shoulders and moving to mount his bike.

Carol gave him a cheeky, yet happy smile. "I think you're the happiest I have ever seen you, you know that? It's good, pookie." "Pf," Daryl scoffed and grunted; couldn't stop his cheeks from reddening. "Stop." His best friend smiled even brighter. "No, 'cause it is a good thing. You deserve this. To be happy. You do." The smile he gave Carol then was nothing but sincere. He wasn't a man of much words, but the woman knew, of course.

Daryl started the engine and exchanged a last look with his best friend, before he drove off.

Since you knew that Daryl was returning sometime this morning, you decided to take on Michonne's watch. It took you all the convincing skills you had, but in the end gave your friend in. Some fresh air was always a good thing, right? And all you wanted was to see your husband approaching safely the gates.

You didn't know exactly how much time had passed, but you were pretty sure it had been a few hours, until you heard that familiar sound of an approaching motorcycle. Standing up from the comfortable camping chair Michonne had gotten up on the wooden tower only for you, you watched with a smile how Daryl drove up to the gates - which got immediately opened for him. The archer had seen you, of course. A short eye contact was enough to display the feelings exploding within the both of you. Especially happiness and love.

Well, it had been two long weeks...

Your husband drove past the gates; immediately turning off the engine and dismounting his beloved vehicle, while you moved to slowly climb down the wooden ladder - step after step. You were carrying precious cargo, after all. About halfway down, you suddenly felt two big palms settling firmly on your hips. "Careful, sunshine," the archer's deep, smokey voice urged to your ears. You smiled; his touch and voice sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. Planting both feet firmly on the ground again, you immediately turned to hug the man as tight as your baby bump allowed.

"Daryl...," you breathed; inhaling his scent and fighting the tears - kudos to your hormones. "Hey, sweetheart." He held you just as firm, before he pulled back to gaze concerningly in your eyes. "Wha' were ya doin' up there?" He nodded at the watch tower. "Waiting for you, of course." Daryl grunted in clear dislike. "Ya shouldn't be up there. 'S dangerous. 'Specially alone."

You appreciated and treasured his protectiveness, but in that very moment was the watch tower the last thing you thought about.

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you cupped your husband's cheek. "Shut up and kiss me." Daryl still wasn't entirely comfortable of displaying affection in public, even after all those years - what you didn't mind, of course, but in that very moment, he didn't give a fuck. The longing and the ache in his heart after having to be away from you for so long was taking over.

He grunted in fake annoyance, before he dipped his head to meet your lips halfway in a deep, longing kiss. "I missed you so much, Dar," you whispered against his lips and bestowed another sweet, short kiss upon them. "Missed ya, too, sunshine." You smiled; his cheeks still cupped by your hands, as your eyes roamed his handsome face. But your happy expression got quickly replaced by a frown as you noticed the small injury above his lips.

"Where did you get that cut, baby?" Daryl shook his head; hands squeezing your hips in a reassuring manner. "'S nothing, sweetheart. Jus' got in a fight a few days ago 's all." Your eyes darkened. "One of the Saviors?" He nodded. "Justin. He was bein' an asshole. Couldn't let tha' slip." You sighed; nodding. "Does it hurt?" Concern flamed up within you once again. "Nah. Not anymore."

You wanted to answer him, but another cramp shot through your lower abdomen; causing you to grimace. Daryl's grip tightened again on an instant. "Contraction?" "Y-Yeah..." You confirmed; luckily feeling the period cramp like pain subsiding again. "C'mon, sunshine. Let's getcha back home. 'M here fer ya two now. Ain't gonna leave again."

You weren't the only one being happy about Daryl's return. Dog was happy too; almost taking the bulky man off his feet with the force he threw himself on him; paws connecting with Daryl's broad chest. You only watched with a smile; hands supporting your baby bump.

Speaking of... The tiny girl living in your womb was ecstatic to hear her father's voice again. You could feel it. Once you had cuddled up with Daryl on the sofa, to catch up on the lost time of physical contact and conversations, you felt her move; recognising Daryl's voice and seemingly that the hands around her home weren't yours as well... Daryl was about to tell you about working at the bridge, when a tiny foot connected with the palm of his hand. "Was tha'...?" You giggled; nodding. "A foot, yep. She got super active within the last hour. She knows her daddy is back. Told you she missed you." A breathless laugh left your husband's mouth; his thumbs starting to caress the clothed skin of your stomach. "Hey in there, lil' munchkin. I missed ya too, ya know."

He received another strong kick in return.

"She's got bigger 'n stronger. I can tell." "Yeah? You think so?" You asked; turning your head to gaze at the archer over your shoulder. "Yeah. Can feel it. 'S different." You just smiled at him; loving how observing he was and cuddled further into his arms; enjoying every second of your reunion.

"Daryl?" You asked after a few minutes of pleasant silence. "Yeah?" You swallowed; picking at your nails. "Those Braxton Hicks I had the past days... They kinda, uh, gave me the creeps a little bit. I-I mean... I know now that the birth isn't very far away and that the real contractions will be way worse. That's... scaring." The archer nodded; biting the inside of his lower lip. "'M sorry 'bout that, sunshine.... Wish I could take tha' fear away, but... 'm afraid too. 'M scared of losin' ya or her, or hence even both 'a ya. But we gotta make this somehow, right? We're in this together. You 'n me. I ain't ever leavin' yer side."

To hear that Daryl had his fears as well was weirdly reassuring for you; knowing that you were truly not alone in this - in every aspect.

You laid your hands on top of Daryl's, which were still resting on your baby bump. "W-We gotta make it, yeah. You and me. Together." You felt Daryl nuzzling your neck; his goatee scratching your skin and his chapped lips aiming for a kiss. "Like we always do."

The following days and weeks were spent by the archer to help you through the Braxton Hicks contractions whenever you got hit by one, and through the pregnancy in general, of course. He was even more attentive and protective than in the beginning and was doing everything in his power to take away the stress and make you feel as comfortable as possible - which included pampering you. Endless foot rubs and back massages, running countless baths for you, getting you your latest craving - even in the middle of the night, and of course cooking food for you. The cooking wasn't always successful, but you loved the man for all the effort he put in. Daryl took you on walks around Alexandria regularly as well; making sure you'd get some fresh air. Certainly not outside the walls, but he'd accompany you everywhere you wished inside the walls.

Daryl even agreed on painting your nails, which ended in a mild disaster, but it definitely didn't fail to put a big smile on your face.

And when the tiny miracle inside you finally decided to see the light of the day and Daryl's hand was tightly locked with yours as you went through labour, you knew that everything would be alright, because you got Daryl and Daryl got you.

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @lou12346789 @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @mischief-dream @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @stiveroon @cakesandtom @mayday2007

[anxiousnerdwritings]

I am going FERAL over this imagine:

So basically Bruce brings reader home to be his new daughter/the boys' new sibling but Uh Oh! They now want you carnally and reader is just like "you said you wanted me as a daughter/sibling, wtf is this" and being their platonic darling is better than being shared between them romantically so reader tries to come off as innocent and child/sibling coded by being like "yeah I've never actually kissed or dated anyone before aren't I just so innocent" and the boys are like :)))

So then Dick says you can call him your boyfriend "just to feel it out" and Tim starts blatantly stealing your panties and Jason says he can give you your 1st kiss so you can "practice" with him and Bruce offers to teach you how to touch yourself and (and him) and when you try to walk it back cause the boys are being Freaks they're in their delulu era so eventually you end up tied to the bed with the boys and Bruce drawing straws over who gets to take what 1sts (like 1st date, kiss, virginity, ect).

And Damien is just in the background absolutely SEETHING cause the the boys and Bruce's Horny Time keeps interrupting his Mommy Time with the reader

And reader using Damien as kind of a shield cause what are they going to do, feel you up in front of a CHILD? Like just, "Stay Platonic :))"

Just that kind of pseudo incest makes me Feel Things (*/∀＼*)(///∇///)

I'd love your thoughts/a fic based on this! Ty ❤️

TW: Brief mentions of pseudo incest(y) scenarios/behavior, manipulative tactics, yandere tendencies

(Okay so I’ll answer this with my thoughts for right now.)

I know I primarily write incest(y) related topics for my Game of Thrones/ASOIAF stuff but I have been tempted to/curious about branching it out into some of the other fandoms I write for 👀. (I’ve had a few ideas rolling around in my noggin for a bit if anyone is interested.) So I would be willing to give this a try. I’m down to experiment with some new stuff, within reason of course.

I imagine the Reader being older (probably 19-23), maybe even having been a runaway of sorts or not having a very stable home life, so when they’re given the ‘offer’ to become part of the family they’re looking to fulfill a familial void they’ve never experienced or have forgotten how it’s felt like. I definitely see Bruce and the rest of the boys keeping a very close eye on the Reader before they decide to finally bring them into their family, basically full on stalking them from the moment they caught their attention (you know how the Batfam works). It wouldn’t be a surprise if even before the Reader was with them physically that the boys developed a more carnal desire for them. At first, their intentions were completely platonic, but with all the lengthy observing and information gathering of their supposed-to-be-new-family-member eventually something changed in how they all saw their darling.

I really see the change in their obsession starting with either Dick or Tim first. Especially regarding some accidental or purposeful peeping Tom foolery. I feel like Bruce would be the last to fall victim to the change in direction or at the very least he’s the last one to admit to it. If Damian is younger than I see his obsession staying strictly platonic, but if he were much older than I could see him involving himself to the same depths as his family.

At first, I see things happening subtly. Knowing that at the very least a few of them are already in an obsessive-romantic headspace in regards to their darling before they even physically become part of the family the guys would try to be as welcoming as possible without revealing their true intentions. They don’t want to scare you off right away, they want you to walk into it semi-willingly at least. But the interactions with the Reader would show something else. The lingering touches, the being much closer to you than really necessary, the heated grazes over your clothes here and there that leave you wondering if that actually happened or not. I also kind of like the other members not being fully aware of each other’s change in obsession, everyone giving each other the side eye until it sets in and then all out war of who gets the darling to themself unfolds only to eventually end up with them working together and agreeing to share. That’s when Bruce’s heel-turn is revealed.

Once things get truly amped up, the interactions with the Reader really begin to escalate. The boys would walk around shirtless more often, all of them trying to get their darling to look at them, to really look at them. Eventually, it’s not just them being shitless but either them in nothing but their underwear or nothing at all. They start out as accidents but eventually it’s pretty loud and clear that the guys want you to see them, all of them, to even touch them and feel them to your hearts content. But thats not all, of course it’s not. The touching of their darling only gets all the more intense, to the point that you know damn well that they’re touching you and they want to leave you wanting for more. So much more. The Reader’s innocence and lack of experience would only spur them on even more. They absolutely thrive off of it. They all want to be your first, your first everything. There will be a lot of secret ‘lessons’ being given behind closed doors and telling of “Don’t tell Batdaddy or he’ll get real mad.” “Don’t let Jay know, or he’ll want to punish you for not doing this with him.” “Let this be our secret, (Name). Something just for you and me.” “Can’t tell anyone about this or they’ll ruin it for the both of us.” And they only get even worse from there.

I can’t see Alfred being okay with this in any situation, whatsoever. I think he especially would feel like Bruce and the other boys completely took advantage of the Reader and he would try his best to aid them in trying to keep up with the platonic intention of this entire fiasco. He would be a total cockblock, even going as far as helping Damian in his cockblocking endeavors. Alfred’s intention would be to play both sides so he knows how to help the Reader when it comes to Bruce and the others but it wouldn’t take too long for them to figure out that Alfred is working against them. Like, Alfred was all for the familial-platonic obsession but when things started getting more romantic he was ready to shut that shit down ASAP. You can’t tell me he hasn’t, at least a few times, locked Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Tim out of the house to give the Reader some peace and give Damian his much deserved allotted time with them.

Speaking of Damian, he is a menace (as per usual) but even more so than normal. He really doesn’t take too well to the new direction of his father’s and brothers’ obsession for the Reader. He thinks it’s pretty messed up but he sincerely likes and cares about the Reader and he wants them to stay, he wants them to continue being a part of the family forever so he’ll let some things slide. Some. He even may be willing to look the other way when it eventually comes to Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Tim baby-trapping the Reader if it means this whole ‘family’ thing becomes set in stone with the arrival of a new ‘sibling’. But for the most part, at least early on, Damian would be a huge pain in the ass for the other family members. He feels like he needs to step in to save his darling from the others and their ulterior motives. He’s all his parental/older sibling figure needs, at least at that point. He may even try to runaway with them to keep them safe from the others. Hell, he may even get his mother involved if he was desperate enough, especially if he saw the Reader as a parental figure. Or maybe even another Justice League member to either adopt him and the Reader so that he could have that family experience he was promised with the Reader. Or he would be completely content just living the rest of his life just him and the Reader, platonically of course.

It would either take Bruce or Dick to have a talk with Damian to get him to come to some agreement to allow them to continue with what they’re doing in regards to the Reader. I think Dick would get away with manipulating Damian much better than Bruce could. I think Damian would have some opinions about his father especially throughout this whole situation. Especially since I see Damian being very observant of how Dick, Jason and Tim are behaving towards the Reader early on and picking up on the fuckery taking place, even going as far as telling Bruce about it under the belief his father would be on his side (not ever fathoming the idea of his father also doing similar things to the Reader without him ever knowing). As far as Damian knew his father was completely platonic towards the Reader, as a ‘father’ should be. Right? So understandably Damian feels not only betrayed but also disgusted when he finds out that his father was and still is taking part in, acting in a similarly depraved fashion as the others.

Eventually, I could see them coming together and being one big ‘happy’ family. But it sure as hell comes at a price. (Usually the Reader’s freedom and sense of self outside of the obsession they’ve been dragged into, to drown in alongside their yandere(s).)

[donatellawritings]

thoughts on best friends dad!rafe!

introducing bfd!rafe & dolly!reader

there was pathetically sick part of rafe that got off on knowing that he still had it — especially with such a young girl like you who was an absolute knockout, absolutely eager and willing to bend to his every whim. he had watched you bloom into the young woman you were today, but the moment you turned eighteen, you became a bit more forward with your intentions. from wearing skimpy bikinis whenever you joined his sweet son on family trips, to the thin satin dresses that tented with your hard nipples on thursday dinners — you made sure to always look your best for mr. cameron.

but what made rafe melt was the way you were so immersed in him, you completely dismissed how his son was head over heels in love with you — and you can call rafe a sick man, but he always craved being the center of attention, no matter the costs. his little boy would just have to move on, not that he ever stood a chance against his overpowering and domineering father.

so, when rafe’s son asked if you could spend the summer at tannyhill, rafe was eager to oblige, masking his reasoning with ‘wanting his next of kin to be happy at home’, despite his true intentions of having you surrender all of yourself to him, now running rampant is his tainted and somewhat deranged mind.

on the first night of your extended stay, you found yourself sat beside your best friend’s father, your tooth-achingly sweet and doting best friend seated directly across from you, completely oblivious to the way his father stared at you with that same sense of longing and desire.

you liked mr. cameron — he was always so sweet to you, he bought you the finest birthday presents, complimented your girly, but borderline inappropriate outfits, and he always seemed to know exactly what you needed at any given time.

and maybe, just maybe there was a part of you that knew he felt the same way about you too.

carelessly leaning over the dining table, you fought back a knowing smirk as your swollen tits bulged against the hem of your sleeveless romper, the ribbed fabric clinging to your warm frame as you reached for a piece of bread, “thank you for having me, mr. cameron,” you sang, your sweet voice all light and airy as you glanced at the older man, your heart jumping as you caught his eyes stuck on the fat of your plush ass cheeks that managed to swallow the romper.

masking his faux pas with a forced clearing of his throat, mr. cameron licks over his lips with a smile, “well — ahem, f’course, my wife and i really appreciate how good of a friend you’ve been to our boy, isn’t that right, honey?”

rafe knew exactly what he was doing, his trained blue eyes carefully taking in the way your plump smile faltered into a brief frown and how the sparkle in your eyes dimmed. your bubble of security had been popped in that very moment as you tugged on the top hem of your romper, your nailed fingers lightly grazing over the baby pink bow that had been sewn between the valley of your breasts.

your oh so pretty and fake smile only intensified as mrs. cameron sauntered into the dining room. you absolutely hated how your shared likeness towards mr. cameron had soured your perception of the clueless woman who still viewed you to be the daughter she always wanted.

placing a manicured hand atop of mr. cameron’s shoulder, you watch as the woman leans down to capture rafe’s lips in a quick kiss, “mhm. you know that we love having you over, sweetie. you keep us on our toes, dolly” she laughs, gently nudging the apple of your cheek as she makes her way to her seat, directly across from mr. cameron.

dolly — the dear nickname that you’d been given by mr. cameron, you’d always been so wet behind the ears, dainty, and entirely too vulnerable. but, it didn’t feel right coming from her.

answering with a short nod, you are a bit too eager to change the topic of discussion, a silent huff of stress leaving your faded plum stained lips as your best friend furrows his brows at your standoffish behavior, “y’okay?” he mouths, softly nudging your shin with the tip of his converse.

“i’m okay,” you mouth back, a soft smile on your pillowy lips as you steal a quick glance at mr. cameron who catches your sneaky gaze, sending you a quick wink as he takes a sip from his glass of chilled red wine.

licking over your dry lips, you swallow thickly, popping a warm and fluffy piece of bread into your needy mouth as mr. cameron’s long and slender leg brushes against yours. fighting back a smile, you remain silent as mrs. cameron enlightens the table about her new endeavors at cameron development, your eyes glazed over as you quietly hook your leg over his firm thigh.

honing your focus into chewing the piece of bread in your mouth, you watch from the corner of your bambi eyes as rafe inconspicuously slides a large hand over the smooth skin of your waxed leg.

now lost in the sensation of mr. cameron’s hand gently kneading soothing circles around your ankle, your eyes widen as rafe’s voice cuts into your dazed state, “y’seem pretty sleepy over there, dolly — everything a’ight?” he questions knowingly, his buzzed head tilted to the side as his pink lips part in anticipation of your next words.

feverishly nodding, you send rafe a forced courteous smile, “yes, mr. cameron — just sleepy,” you answer politely.

returning his attention to his son and wife, rafe keeps a tight hold on your small ankle, the cold bite of his wedding band digging into your warmed and bronze skin. you always loved to prance around tannyhill barefoot, you’re pretty pink toes on full display, ever since your younger days.

and rafe was painfully reminded of that, a feigned smile of interest on his handsomely structured face as he gave your cute little toes a gentle squeeze, every now and again.

all while his poor son and unsuspecting wife sat and ate their overly priced steak dinner.

[pressureplus]

Various Dating Sebastian Solace Headcannons

Warnings: Mild Suggestive Content, Intersex Sebastian

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

He loves to kiss you more than anything, loves to be loved honestly

Please touch him, he hasn’t been touched in so long

He’s got a fascination with scars, any old scars that you let him see he will absolutely trace with his fingers

Mildly obsessive, 100% possessive, he doesn’t really like the idea of sharing you or letting other people flirt with you

Insecurity is the root of it mostly, who would choose a massive fish monster over any average human? Let alone an attractive one.

He tries to make light of his insecurities with jokes but know that he is genuinely concerned he isn’t attractive enough for you. He plays it up like he thinks he’s the hottest man alive…

He doesn’t.

Very playful and makes tons of jokes about lots of things, dark humor to cope included

Once asked if you were a monster fucker, leaned in real close so you could look into his eyes properly

Grinned because he already knew the answer

He doesn’t like being flirted with by other people unless this means he’s getting something out of them, flirting to get more data is not above him

He knows some of the sick freaks down here look at him funny, and though he doesn’t know why, he wont stop them if it gets him something he needs

Never be scared of him leaving you, he’s got attachment issues and trust issues. You’re practically half his heart.

You better be able to handle being pawed at. Maybe not a ton but he likes to grab at thigh, chest, hip, anywhere that has the most meat. He’s got favorites depending on exactly how you’re built

If you’re on the thin side, he wants to squeeze your hips or waist to feel like he’s got a firm grip on you

If you’re on the average side, he prefers anywhere he can see the most pudge, stomach included

If you’re on the chubby side, he absolutely loves your thighs as it’s the easiest thing to grab for

He only squeezes and bites you when he’s fully comfortable, and would be happy to accept the same

Leave marks. He’d like that.

He doesn’t grab things off shelves for you unless he’s in a hurry or in front of other people

He prefers to pick you up and lift you to whatever you’re trying to grab…he has a habit of not letting you go after though so be careful

He does have a sex drive, he’s just not super open about it…again, insecurities

He doesn’t exactly have a human dick anymore you know

He’s got female anglerfish DNA too…so he also has pussy just cuz I feel like he should.

Yes he struggles with the idea of you being disgusted by that, he had some body issues for a while over it too

Honestly thinks you’d be disgusted with him if you wanted to sleep with him, so he’ll never bring it up and he’ll be nervously avoidant about the topic

Plus, he’s practically twice your size! That probably wouldn’t be fun for you at all anyway

All in all, insecure but loyal and quietly loving. He’s still rude and honestly? Most people would probably tell you to leave that guy. Definitely not the brand of man you wanna bring home to mama

But he’s in love with you. Genuinely. Hopefully that’s all you need from him

[haxkattpress]

Away Childish Things by @letteredlettered

I'm so excited to finally share this bind of one of my all time favorite fics! Thanks to lettered's generous binding policy, I decided to go all out.

This bind has a foiled cover and spine, hand sewn silk endbands, and thirteen custom chapter headers. It was also my first time rounding and backing.

You can find more pictures and information about my process under the cut.

For the cover and spine, I recreated the design of Beasts of the Field (1902) by William J. Long.

I wanted something that captured both the whimsy and maturity of the story, and this cover fit my vision perfectly. It also gave me the opportunity to recreate another antique cover from the public domain.

Unfortunately, the design was a bit complicated for my Cameo 4, so I was unable to fill the lines in. You can also tell that the foil did not adhere properly near the bottom, so the flowers are lighter than I would like them to be.

Because of the trouble I was having with my Cameo, I decided to foil the spine by hand. I deeply regretted this decision two hours later, and it took me four hours to finish foiling. My wrist still hurts!

Sewing the headbands was my absolute favorite part. I was encouraged to try them by a lovely binder on Instagram, and I ended up completely addicted. I splurged on some fancy silk thread so I could give this fic the royal treatment it deserves! I think they look like beautiful little caterpillars.

As for the rounding and backing... I'm not going to talk about it. Nightmare. Lots of nervous sweating. Emotional agony. Next topic!

I worked on the typeset back at the beginning of January when I had some time off, and it took me a solid week of obsessive editing to complete. My sister suggested that I use Harry and Draco's patronuses for the chapter art, but there unfortunately aren't many public domain illustrations of deer and foxes playing together.

It was at that point that I also decided that I wanted the animals to match the respective ages of Harry and Draco and the tone of each chapter. For the 13 chapters I ended up editing 25 different illustrations together. The bulk of these are taken from vintage versions of Bambi and Reynard the Fox. It's possible that a few stock images from 1980s nature books snuck in there, but I did my best to keep them all pre 1925.

I'm not a skilled editor, and some of these are worse than others, but I'm quite proud of what I was able to cobble together. On the final page I put a young fox and deer running off together. I wanted it to seem like Harry and Draco's inner children had been freed.

I'm a bit embarrassed to say that this bind took me about 4-5 months to complete! I started in early January, and went wildly off track learning how to round, back, and sew headbands. And then I was hit by some killer creative block that only lifted last week!

There are still many things I could improve on, but I'm so proud of everything that I learned and accomplished with this bind! A big thank you to lettered for inspiring me with such a wonderful story. <3

[ghost-proofbaby]

kissing lessons

summary: you and robin have already shared several firsts as best friends: your first time holding hands, your first time cuddling someone, your first time flirting. so what's a little platonic kissing?

pairing: robin buckley x fem!reader

warnings: lots of sapphic pining, yearning, etc. assumed unrequited love. hopeless crushing. doing romantic things and claiming they're totally platonic when they very much are not. mentions of reading trying to conform to the 80s standards by dating a boy. reader is explicitly female (which should be given since robin is canonically a lesbian)

wc: 3.4k+

a/n: this one was a long time coming. it's based off of my own first kiss, loosely.

part 2

Being best friends with Robin Buckley has always been about growing – together.

Life has a plethora of lessons for young souls to learn in time, and some of those lessons were simply hard. The first time you picked up a musical instrument and attempted to play your very first note, and it sounded atrocious. Nothing like the movies, more difficult than you could have ever imagined. The first time you walked the halls of your high school, and the terrifying first wave of panic at the realization you’d need to learn the map of the lands in order to navigate that maze for the next four years. The first time you walked into a classroom all of two minutes late, and the first shatter of embarrassment in your chest as every eye in the room turned to you. The first time you trip over your own laces on your way to Chemistry, the first time you impulsively cut your hair with the kitchen scissors, the first time a boy asked you out as a joke, and the first time someone asked you out genuinely only to fumble over every single word. Your first school dance, your first time cooking pasta from scratch, your first time attending a concert without a chaperone. 

Firsts, firsts, firsts. Life is simply full of them, and they never get any easier or kinder, but having a best friend at your side certainly makes it all bearable. 

Robin Buckley was that rock for you. And you, for her. 

It’s sort of how you got into this mess to begin with. 

“It’s going to be weird, isn’t it?” 

“It’s not going to be weird unless we make it weird, Robin.”

“How can I not make it weird? Where would my lips even go?”

You’re both lucky that no one is home to hear all the shrieking currently occurring in your small bedroom. Only the posters on your wall and your teddy bear you’ve had since you were five are witnesses to the current predicament occuring. 

Robin had been the one to suggest it, in all fairness. Graduation was next week, and there had been a lot of reminiscing flying about. All the firsts, all the hopeful lasts, and all the fatal moments you needed to drag by the hair to the backyard and bury six feet under. 

The topic of conversation had veered pretty erratically, turning left towards that one stubborn B left on Robin’s postcard as a result of her refusing to attend her assigned tutoring for Geometry last year, and then sliding right as you’d huffed about that one girl who had been an absolute menace towards you sophomore year when you’d botched your improv solo at a band concert. But in the last five minutes, it had finally straightened out – it had finally begun to follow the trail of a line of remembering that no one else would ever be allowed to know outside of you and Robin. 

You’d brought up the first date you’d ever gone on. A ridiculous milkshake outing with some guy in your freshman English class that had left you feeling more confused than starry eyed or lovesick as the books promised. 

The date that had caused Robin Buckley to offer to hold your hand at random, in private moments, the week leading up to it. Just so you’d know how it felt. Just so you could figure out how to best intertwine your fingers with someone else’s without feeling terrible foreign about it all. 

It had been platonic. You both swore it had been, shrugging carelessly as you’d let your palm meet your best friends. 

And you’d felt more every time your skin brushed hers than you had the entire night with that boy. Spent the entire date wishing it was Robin’s knuckles bumping yours when you’d reached for that damn strawberry milkshake. 

“Against mine, I’d hope.” 

The dissection hadn’t ended at the hand-holding. Next, the two of you had wistfully recalled the sleepover in which you’d first decided to learn how to spoon one another. Robin had read about it in a magazine, you’d never had firsthand experience, and it just felt right to suggest. Robin had rambled for a good five minutes before you’d tugged her back into her bed and commanded her to just lay there as you figured out where you arm should go as your body curved along the back of hers. 

It had been nice. Really nice. 

You’d never gone out on another date after the Great Milkshake Catastrophe, as the two of you had called it. Robin claimed none of the boys at school could handle her eccentricism. Both of you, young girls fumbling about the world, starving for touch completely unaware. You told yourselves everyone cuddled with their friends. You told yourselves it was normal. 

But then, you’d switched positions, Robin being the big spoon as the teen magazine had described, and you swore your heart had burst when her arm wrapped around your waist and her fingers slotted between your own against your abdomen. 

You’d fallen asleep in that position. Awoken to Robin’s face pressed right into your chest as you’d spread out on your back. Ignored the flaky drool stain left behind on your skin when she’d finally joined the living once more. Pretended like you both hadn’t had the best rest of your lives as you’d clung to one another through fading dreams and subtle snores. 

It was normal, right? It had to be, because it was nice, and it had become a part of your normal sleepover rituals. 

Friends used each other’s boobs as pillows all the time, as Robin had defended. 

“Yeah, but, well-” Robin cuts off in her current stricken rambling, throwing her hands out around the air between you two, “What about when it’s more than just pecking? You know? All that gross shit, where tongues get involved and spit is exchanged and, oh God, should we be sucking on some mints right now or something? Oh my God, what if you’re allergic to my chapstic-”

Gross shit. 

The not-so-clever code word the two of you used whenever describing any sort of romantic interactions. Kissing, making out, sex. The things all of your peers were regular experiencing, sometimes even displaying in public, that the two of you only turned your noses up to. 

You didn’t want to suck the face off of Connor in your fifth period pottery class. The only person you could imagine on the receiving end of that that didn’t make your stomach turn was sitting right in front of you now, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as she clearly panicked. 

“I’m not allergic to passion fruit Lip Smackers, Robs.”

The switch to a passion fruit flavor was new. Robin had been using the strawberry flavor religiously prior, but had recently offered it to you with the excuse of your obsession with strawberry flavored things. 

And now, you’d been using it daily. Trying not to think about how many times her lips had been on it prior to yours. Trying not to think about how many ways you could twist it into some sick secondary kissing metaphor, to have your lips slick with the same sticky substance as hers had been so many times before.

Tried not to think about what Robin Buckley’s lips tasted like, period. Easier said than done when the thought crosses your mind every time you lick your lips moment after application, getting the faux sweetness all over your tongue. 

“You could be. And how would we even know? I can’t even drive! If you start to have an allergic reaction, I can’t even take you to the hospital! We don’t have a c-” 

You can’t do it anymore – any other day, you relish in the sound of Robin’s voice as she’ll squeal on and on about everything and anything. But not today. 

You cut her off with a kiss.

The very same kiss you’d both timidly agreed upon when you’d both realized graduation was next week, and neither of you had had your first kiss. 

The same deal as the cuddling. The same deal as the hand-holding. The same deal as all the pick-up lines and flirting you’d try out on each other, the same deal as all the sweet ‘love notes’ you’d write for one another and slip into backpacks and binders alike. 

The same deal as that fluttering in your chest every time she looked up at you at the local pool, eager to see if you’d witnessed her flip beneath the water. The same deal as all the nights you’d cried into your pillow after being pestered about if any boys at school caught your eyes, because you knew they hadn’t and they never would. Your eyes were already too busy, completely captured by the sight of the brunette now pressing her lips against yours. 

None of the boys at school could ever compare. 

Passion fruit and strawberry mingles within the short peck, freckled cheeks and nose smashing against yours in the most awkward fashion possible. It could be weird; it should be weird. 

It’s not. 

When you pull away, Robin is completely stunned into silence for quite possibly the first time in her life. And her lips are shining with some of your residual spit, and her cheeks are the perfect shade of rose that no actual flower could capture.

Mother Nature herself could never replicate the girl in front of you. The girl you’d been best friends with for six years now, the girl you’d pined relentlessly for for just as long. 

Only you’d just recently realized it. Somewhere between the lip smackers exchange and the movie night in which you’d intertwined your legs on the couch and felt the weight of her between your hips as she’d passed out. 

Looking at her now sort of feels like realizing it all over again. Sort of like looking out over a precipice, and taking a deep breath, because you know you’re leaping off the cliff. No scared looks over your shoulder, no hesitation as you throw your foot out into mid-air. 

The kind of rush you’ve never felt with a boy, and never will. 

“Was that…” she whispers, voice hoarse before she clears it, batting her gorgeous lashes and taking the shakiest of breaths, “Was that good?”

“I dunno,” you lie, “I think we should try again.” 

It’s like a dance, you soon realize. Following her steps, guiding her with your own. She slides her way up closer, and you press your back against your headboard. Her hands are shaking when they brush your outer thighs, and your blood is racing as you tug on her elbows to guide her to straddle your lap. 

You both had said, after all, you needed to learn to be better kissers. That you couldn’t leave high school without having shoved your tongue down someone’s throat at least once. Your words, not hers. 

Your desperate attempt to make sure that someone was Robin Buckley. Your pitiful attempt to have the one thing you don’t think you’ll ever be allowed to hold. 

The weight of her on your lap is nice. The feeling of her lips returning to yours is nice. The way neither of your hands know where to go as you let your lips linger together a few seconds longer than the first time is nice. 

It’s far nicer than Connor from English could ever make you feel. It’s far nicer than that poor boy at the diner ever was, though he tried his best. 

You’re the brave one, when it’s all said and done. You’re the first one to let your palms settle at her hips, squeezing ever so gently to feel the softness beneath slot perfectly into your hold. You’re the first one to timidly include tongue, parting both your lips, trying to ignore the shivers running up your spine as all you can taste now is passion fruit lip smackers. 

Even with your own lip balm, you know your lips are horribly chapped. Dreadfully thirsty and desperate to absorb all the love you know isn’t yours to claim at this moment. Chapped lips, quivering hands, shaking breaths. Unsure movements and the ringing question in the back of your head of am I doing this right? 

Is she feeling what I’m feeling? 

Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t. But she’s kissing you back. Her tongue is meeting yours in movements that are nothing like the movies, shy baps that you both will probably laugh about later. Kitten licks to test the waters. 

And then there’s the retreating. The rock of her body as she settles her weight closer to your knees, and her tongue is put away in favor of just letting her lips slot between yours in slow and lazy movements. You can feel every deep breath she takes through her nose between the kisses, you can smell her perfume seeping into your psyche every moment she spends so close to you. 

The only lesson being learned right now is that you were an idiot. You were an absolute fool, and you are absolutely in love with your best friend.

“Better?” she questions when she pulls away entirely, and you try not to whimper. Try not to show her how badly you want this, need this. 

You hate the silence and you nearly wish she’d start babbling again. You wish she’d give you a reason to kiss her and shut her up, if for nothing more than to taste passion fruit and yearning all over again. 

You’re quiet for a few beats, staring at her as your chest heaves and your heart begins to twist up into terrible shapes. “I… Yeah. Yeah. I think we’re getting the hang of it, don’t you?” 

“Oh, absolutely,” her nervous smile breaks, and you wish she wouldn’t continue the thought, but she does, “You’re gonna be a pro in no time, breaking boys hearts left and right when you kiss them like that.” 

You don’t want to break a boy’s heart. You want to break hers – you want to entirely implode her heart the way she has yours, and have the honor to know it was mutual. A mutual destruction you both dove into headfirst. You only want to kiss Robin like this, forever. You only ever want to know how right her hand feels in yours, not some guy who can’t even choke out the right words to invite you to the cinema. 

You want, and you want, and you want. 

And just as you bite your tongue, decide against pouring out all your affections all over your bed sheets and pulling her right back into you again, desperate to share air with her and only her, you can hear your front door slamming over. 

Robin has never moved so quickly in her life. Jumping off your lap, leaping to the edge of the bed as a feverish blush overtakes her entire body. As though she might be embarrassed, as though she might be regretful. 

You still haven’t moved from your position, back sticky with sweat against the headboard, when your parents walk past your open door and say hello. 

They probably don’t even hear your sad and quiet excuse of a returned greeting, too enraptured by Robin’s own excited quip of saying hi. 

Your parents love her. Adore her in a way parents should care for their child’s closest confidant. They treat her like their own daughter, and Robin’s parents do the same for you. Once a month, your mothers meet up for mimosas over brunch and probably giggle about how lucky their girls are to have one another. 

You get it. You love her too. But certainly not in the way you should love your best friend. 

They finally leave, and Robin is quick to turn to you, eyes shining with all the stars and sunshine the Universe could have to offer, “That… um, thank you.”

“For what?” you laugh breathlessly, finally shifting forward, looking down at your thighs that had served as a temporary home to the girl who holds your heart, trying to swallow down any shame and all that rapid longing. 

“For… you know,” she smiles, a secret for the two of you to only ever keep, never sharing with the world. Selfishly, you almost enjoy the sentiment, “I’m sorry I was acting so weird about it before. You were right, it didn’t have to be weird unless we made it weird. I’m lucky to have you as my best friend, you know? And like I said, if you’re…. You know, doing that with boys, you’re going to be a certified heartbreaker. The world isn’t ready for my best friend. Besides! Another thing checked off the list, right?” she pauses, and you swear the smile has gone sad, but you can’t risk the projection, “Now we can both say we’ve done… that… before graduation! And-”

You speak before you can think better of it, interrupting her entirely, “I think I need more practice.” 

She stops in her tracks, eyebrows raising wildly and eyes turning to saucers, “What?”

“I think…” your head reels, desperate to come up with an excuse to kiss her again. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. “I think I need more lessons, yeah? Like, I don’t know. More practice,” Oxygen evades you in desperation, giving your best puppy dog eyes, system in overdrive as you stare at her lips and your voice drops to a careful whisper, “My parents are out of town next weekend… Maybe we could try again then? Same time?” 

You swear her smile shifts, and you hadn’t even noticed the ingenuity in it previously until she dazzles you with one that must be real. As if you’ve just made her year, lightened her load, offered over your first born to the darling girl. 

“Well….” she moves her eyes across the room, focusing on a polaroid photo of the two of you pinned to the wall above the desk, “I mean, we did say lessons, plural. I can see if Steve will cover my shift on Saturday night if that works?” 

Am I doing this right? 

“That definitely works.”

Is she feeling what I’m feeling?

“Perfect. It’s a…. date, then.” 

“It’s a date.” 

It’s not. Only to you, never to her. 

But it’ll be enough. It’s enough to know next Saturday, she’ll be back here, in your bed and in your lap, getting that passion fruit chapstick all over your lips and shaking your chest from the inside out until it’s ready to burst. 

One day, you might be the brave one, when it’s all said and done. You’ll tell your best friend all the ways she feels so nice, and all the ways you want to capture that niceness in a bottle for the rest of your days. You’ll tell her the way you have no interest in the boys at school and how you’re cursed to forever be the heartbroken, never the heartbreaker, and only ever at her hand. The very same one clasping yours as she stands at your front door, thanking you vaguely once more, grinning ear to ear as she gives you three tight squeezes that are completely lost on you. 

Today’s not the day, though. Today is the day where you spend the night in your self-made cage, face buried in the pillow, noises somewhere between desperately muffled screams of frustration and dry sobs of torture leaving your lips as you picture the way she’d looked after the kiss. Her eyes softly shut, her lips still puckered, her neck entirely exposed as she tilts her chin back to look at your ceiling through her eyelids. Picturing the way that next time, you’ll try to convince her the two of you should learn the art of neck kisses. Picturing the way that next time, maybe you’ll grab her hips a little harder or let your hands wander a bit farther to her thighs. 

Tonight is the night you have no idea amongst your pity party, that Robin Buckley is on the other side of town, experiencing the exact same turmoil as she longs for the girl who tastes like her gifted strawberry lip smackers – the very same one Steve Harrington berated on her to get rid of when she’d vomited out all the ways she hates fake strawberry flavoring, but you love it, and she’d convinced herself if she bathed herself in enough of it, you might just want her the way she wants you. 

Tonight’s not the night, though. 

One day, the kissing lessons will simply be kisses. One day.

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join my taglist!

[hyewka]

warnings. possibly unfaithful, switch!beomgyu, ex best friends, pull out method, drunk sex, not proofread

you’ve always felt big feelings towards beomgyu, after all he has been your best friend for as long as you can remember, its just never ever been lust, even as a teenage girl with rapidly changing hormones. you love beomgyu, but it was never romantic. and yet as much as it surprises you, in the moment, it feels so right. like this is exactly how its supposed to be. getting maniacally mounted by choi beomgyu in a bathroom with your sense overwhelmed with the soju and beer breath. yeah, that sounds about right.

you just hadn’t expected it to turn so sappy so quick, despite the alcohol in your systems.

“i missed you…i missed you, i missed you”

at some point, you would’ve guessed those repeated declarations would’ve faded into white noise had it been any other person—any other person but him. someone who’d you considered the most important being of your entire life, someone who you haven’t seen or heard from in two entire years when your entire relationship had consisted of seeing each other all the time, someone that you’ve also, terribly missed.

when you share the same sentiment, when you also feel the need to repeat it over and over again, the heartache you’ve felt and the utter devastating emptiness that you’ve lived with for so long now being satiated—the repetition doesn’t let the words turn into sounds of nothingness as it naturally would’ve. rather, it continues to ram against your skull every time he gasps and whines them. like it gains a deeper, more intimate meaning the more he whispers them against your neck, trailing his wet kisses along your jawline.

“what happened with him?”

it’s like he got worked up at his own question, gripping the plush of your ass so hard his nails painfully digs into your flesh, having you hiss. you don’t blame what you register as an involuntary response—your ex boyfriend was the sole reason for your fallout with beomgyu, it’s a sore subject to poke.

“we broke it off six—s-six months after.” after you and beomgyu fell out you would’ve said, but how can you when the prick’s practically ramming his cock in you.

“oh,” he groans speeding up his sloppy pace, finding more rhythm—all while wearing a dopey smile, the frown on his face returning to ecstasy. “why?”

“just didn’t work out.” you reply curtly, trying to move on from the topic of your ex. he lets you, humming contentedly.

there was a part deep inside him that urged him to be smug and petty with an i told you so, or get mad that you dumped him for a relationship so futile to your life, but he can’t find himself to do so as he gets lost further in the way your face contorts, reacting to each jerk of his hips. you’re perfect, he thinks to himself over and over again. you’re perfect.

he thinks he could cum right then and there.

but somethings on the tip of your tongue— in fact, the moment you had registered him inside your head when you went inside that damned karaoke room, you noticed the ring. you quickly dispelled your first thought—it doesn’t look like a ring for marriage, it looked far too casual for that.

but you had still eyed it practically the entire night curious if it held any meaning and you had so badly wanted to pry. then you finally concluded that beomgyu has always been into jewellery, rings no exception. an hour ago, you didn’t know why you were so curious of his relationship status. but now? now you’re being fucked. you have a reason, so you try to bite the bullet to satiate your curiosity. “what about you?” you choke out. however, your question immedietely evaporates from your head when he smashes his lips against yours again heaving.

you don’t question it, you melt into it, pulling him in closer to the point there’s absolutely no space between the two of you.

“missed you” he whines. it has you uncontrollably tumble out giggles between your smushed lips before he steals your breath away yet again. you feel like you’re on drugs, you’re so high off of the adrenaline you feel. never in a million years would you have expected the original deep set uncomfortable tension between the two of you three hours ago to turn into this. when you had been invited out to hang out with your old college friends to come in and be met with familiar faces—you just didn’t expect your joy to so quickly be replaced with suffocating dread when the most familiar looks you up and down.

you weren’t warned of his presence. and now you were crowded by it.

“i couldn’t,” you gasp, your hooded eyes flying open when he revisits a hickey, grazing his teeth. “i can’t, i can’t live without you. that’s what i’ve realized, i can’t do it.”

you nod over and over again along to his words, frankly out of it, rolling your hips pathetically in rhythm with his. “wh-what about you?” he asks, his vulnerablity on full on display. long gone was the confident, vulgarity that oozed out of him.

it turns you on so much, it’s wrong but it does—his teary eyes, imploring you to put him at ease as he drives his cock deep inside your cunt. it feels right, it feels natural to try it out with him. the moment your finger flick his nipples, beomgyu gives you an immediate, satisfactory reaction—a combination of a gasp and a shriek before his head just pathetically falls to bury his head into the junction of your shoulders.

“you’re sensitive,” you note, letting your fingers lightly lay against his chest. the faltering of his pace is extremely noticeable as he had been increasingly building up his pace. it gives you a rush of dopamine, enough of it to have you more confident with what you want.

“whyyy..why’d you touch..” his whines muffle into your skin.

you peel his head off your shoulder by a fist of his hair and for what feels to be the hundredth time this night, he knocks the breath out of you—he’s gorgeous. when you started making out earlier you had passively asked him to keep his glasses on, you didn’t expect him to make such an effort to keep them because it’s practically falling off the bridge of his nose, crooked and foggy. he looks like a perfect mess.

your ex boyfriend hated it—when you had introduced domming during sex it had immediately killed the mood even though he promised you afterwards that it totally wasn’t because of your risque play with his nipples. after a while, you believed him—you wanted to believe him so you tried to ease into it again, showing him some porn, he’d surely like it as much as you did. you were sorely mistaken. he didnt, he practically ridiculed you, basically implying you were a total freak. it’s one of the things that served as a catalyst for your eventual breakup.

but beomgyu, god, beomgyu.

he transcends even your wildest imagination—hes everything you’d wish to hear and more. when you experimentally let your finger twist his hard buds again as he attempts to pick up his rhythm he gurgles on his spit, moaning loud enough for you to completely lose it. he slows down again, almost completely stilling, looking like he’s about to sob with his face a shade of red and pink, as if hes asking you for mercy.

“what?” you slur, cocking your head. “who allowed you to stop? i was close.”

he shakes his head, bottom lip slightly wobbling, “i c-can’t. if you keep touching my-”

your groan cuts off his rant. “hurry up, my legs are starting to cramp up gyu.”

he flinches at your harshness, falling into a pout. it’s a habit that as long as you remember, had driven you up the wall. but right now, you can’t help but find the action adorable, in complete contrast to the dirty situation you’re in. “but what if i just…like, cum?”

you sigh, propping yourself up again, “when you feel it coming, pull out.” you say simply, which doesn’t seem to ease his mind but he doesn’t resist shaking his hips again. it isn’t long before he’s losing himself in you, slap of skin against skin no longer your concern, totally ignoring the semi public setting. the moment he feels like he has has the upper hand you do it again, playing with his nipples until you’re sure they’re pink and plump, sore.

he not once questions anything, which makes you feel so immensely comfortable. “he would’ve hated this,” you comment absentmindedly, more to yourself than beomgyu. you hadn’t even thought he picked up on it when suddenly he becomes a lot more vocal, moaning obnoxiously loud you would’ve definitely slapped him silly and hopped off his cock…had you not been completely trashed. your brain is turned off, only mustering up a wobbly smile as you drown in his outward display of pleasure. it makes you feel so powerful. he both exaggerates and at the same time actually fucking loses his sanity.

he says those words again, panting, eyes completely glazed over and mouth almost permanently hung open, his hand reaching down to shakily play with your clit, making you arch into his touch, absolutely out of breath. “can’t live without you,”

at that final declaration, you clench around his dick to which he immediately reacts, erratically fucking into you, having your tits jiggle lewdly. he thinks hes hypnotized, he thinks he would’ve probably just bust a nut inside you anyway, but he snaps out of it, getting a sense of clarity.

beomgyu's cock throbs one last time inside you, before he pulls out, giving his cock only one small pump before spurting his load, some of it landing on your stomach and legs, some dripping to the floor. he lets out a soft moan, his breath hot against your neck. after what you believe to be an eternity, your sweaty selves interwined with each other, wallowing in silence as you finally get your breathing controlled, beomgyu pulls away to look at you.

it’s like you truly are telepathically connected, something you’ve joked about for years due to the instance you’ve completed each other’s thoughts. but you’ve come to realize it might be closer to the truth than anything you’ve ever known to be true. your feelings were intertwined, scarily so.

so its to not to your surprise when he doesn’t ask for a round two, he knows. like he always does.

you just try to ignore the constant ringing of his phone.