#but that is all drained out of him long before he was taken if hes taken when hes older and his survival is something he views

[revelboo]

Do you ever plan to write for EarthSpark Starscream? There's a strange lack of him. No pressure to, of course haha just thought I'd ask.

I like how he was portrayed in the first season before they nuked his character 😭 (and how you write the bots from ES ❤️)

Yeah, I was so hopeful with the first season that we were going to get some character development and growth and then… yeah. Nope.

I just updated the Masterlist and just realized I’m up to 94 links there and I’m only allowed 100, so you may see me making sub-masterlists for each continuity. This one makes 95 🥲

Disaster Hearts

Earthspark Starscream x Reader

• Venting softly, his face tips up toward the night sky outside the cave he’s been using as shelter to avoid tipping off Ghost. Unable to recharge for the nightmares. In his dreams, no matter how fast or how high he flies, that massive hand reaches after him. Those brutal servos always snaring him. And what was it all for? Everything he’s suffered only for Megatron to swap sides and betray them all. To be accepted by the Autobots with open arms even though Cybertron is a burned out husk because of Megatron’s actions. The future he’d believed in, had been promised just thrown away. Where is he now, he wonders? Playing house with those human pets of his?

• Can’t stay here as his anxiety begins to crank and his wings flare slightly before he throws himself off the cliff. Thrusters igniting as he launches himself skyward. He’d convinced his other Seekers to help in his vendetta against Megatron, but then it hadn’t taken much to gain their cooperation. They’d lost as much as he had. Betrayed just like he was. Rolling lazily in the air, he thinks of that human of Megatron’s. The soldier he’d thrown them all away for. That human too closely guarded by the Autobots to get at. And he can’t understand choosing a human over his own. Hates that soldier, because really, this is her fault isn’t it? They’re all much the same, though. Little insects waiting to be crushed under his ped.

• Exhausted, your fingers flex against the steering wheel. Telling yourself that it’s only for a bit longer. Only need to work two jobs for another year or so. That’s not so long. A bit longer to squirrel away enough to escape. Get as far as possible. Maybe try for the East Coast. You’re day dreaming about that as you drive. How the salty breeze off the ocean would taste. Would the sea spray be warm or cold? Salt drying on your skin and your hair and not caring. Finally free.

• Drifting through the cloudy night sky, he spots the headlights below on the empty road. And he normally ignores the humans. They’re beneath him, but right now? Angry and unsettled? Unable to take his frustration out on Megatron or his pet, he wants to lash out at someone. Punish someone for everything that’s been done to him. It’s what makes him drop from the sky and land in front of the little car. Hears the tires scream as the car brakes sharply and he lifts a ped and slams it down on the hood before the human can hit reverse. Watches the back of the car go airborne before slamming back down. Optics narrowing when the door is thrown open and a human throws themself out, running away.

• Decepticon. Heart racing, you run for the trees hoping the massive alien can’t follow you there. Screaming as the trees just explode, shards of wood and branches raining down on you as you fall on your hip. All the fight draining out of you to leave fear. Your head turns as you struggle to breathe, feeling those heavy peds hitting the road as he approaches you. And all you can think is it’s not fair. You’ve worked so hard to escape and it’s not even your tormentor that’s going to be the death of you, but one of the alien monsters.

• Baring his denta, he looms over the small form. One human is as good as another, aren’t they? He can’t get to Megatron’s human, but if he loves them so much, sacrificed his own kind for them, throwing another one’s broken body at his peds should be just as satisfying. Servos flexing, he bends to grab you and you don’t try to run again. Don’t scream or cry. Just stare at him, eyes closing as he curls his servos around you, unresisting. Just giving up as he frowns at your almost nonexistent weight in his palm. Why aren’t you begging for your life? “Just get it over with,” you whisper so softly he almost misses it.

• And the silence stretches out, takes on a weight. Flinching when a servo nudges your head his way. You open your eyes and stare up at that frowning, serious face. Those pretty, blue optics. “It’s not that I care at all,” he says, voice little more than a growl. “But do you want to talk about it?” What? Eyes drifting to that Decepticon badging on his wings, to his too human face, and you can’t even begin to respond.

[rascalentertainments]

Wish Granted Magic System (Part 2) ✨

In our first half, we covered Magnifico and Amaya's magic as well as Star/Cosmo's magic, so now its time for the grander scale! This way its a little more clear how wishes work as well as the star nomads.

The Wishes 🔮

• Like the canon movie, wishes are taken at the age of 18 or older. Magnifico can't take from anyone under that age because their desires are not yet finalized. Children's desires change a lot growing up, so there isn't anything to form into an orb yet. The adults wishes are more focused, so he goes after those.

• The stronger the person's desire, the more power it gives Magnifico. He's gotten so addicted to that power that he secretly eats some unimportant wishes when he's really desperate. (referencing the original idea)

• Magnifico can't eat Star since he's usually in a human form, and he can't technically destroy energy, only transfer it. So he's just going to drain all of Star's magic till he's empty. No one knows if Star will run out of energy and return to the sky, or just simply die. Not even Star knows how it will end for him...

• Amaya doesn't eat the wishes like her husband, but she does absorb a wish once a month. The rest she does by hand by making the potions with exotic ingredients.

• A person can have more than one wish, but the spell only works for their deepest, truest desires. And that other wish can't replace the one you've lost. It comes from a person's soul, so its practically life essence trapped in an orb.

• When a wish is taken, it slowly causes side effects in the person by stages: Drowsiness, forgetfulness, lack of motivation, depression, and the final stage is flu-like sickness until they die. Only Sabino has been able to fight off those latter symptoms by constantly keeping moving forward himself towards his dream.

• If a wish is destroyed, that person will have 1 week to live before all their life force is drained. A broken wish can restored with the proper spell, but it must be done before the week is up.

•When a wish is restored, all the life force is put back into them instantly and the sickness vanishes. They will even have a big burst of joy and energy for a few minutes.

• The reason that Magnifico couldn't take Asha's wish is because it already went to Star. When he accepted her emotional plea for help, the magic of her wish was given to him. Star is her wish now.

• Asha will have a new wish by the end of the story, since her original wish will be granted. Its a bit of a bittersweet one though.

The Star Nomads 🌟✨🌌

I've gotten a lot of questions on how the nomads work here, so here's your info dump! I did my best to keep it simple.

• The star nomads live in a special space called "The Stratosphere", which is a magical layer they reside in between the Earth and the deeper parts of space. They could go to Earth if they wanted to, but it takes a lot of magic and choose not to waste it. Only Star has managed to come to Earth with the help of Asha.

• The nomads have a different animation style from the humans. While humans are in a 2D style, the nomads are in a UPA" Style in space. (see the pic below for an example 👇) It serves a reference to the real UPA Studio that wanted freedom to create anything they wanted.

• These beings roam the galaxy finding new planets, systems and formations that fascinate them and want to learn more about their universe.

• Countless nomads have seen Earth and are curious about it, but not enough to hold their attention for more than a week. However, Our Star grew an unusual attachment that's lasted his whole life. So much that he wished he could be down there.

• They can't read, since there's no reason to write or read in space.

• Stars can age like humans, but they take a very long time to reach elderly age (talking thousands here). So they'll physically look like adults for a long time. In Star's case, he's only 18, so he still actually resembles the human teenager both physically and mentally.

• The stars look like the canon plushie when they're newborns, and slowly gain a human-esque appearance as they grow older. Most stars choose and want to have more cosmic like appearances and only slightly resemble humans. For Star, he actively chose a fully human looking form because of his love for Earth and humans. He gave himself additional features when he came to Earth to look more attractive for Asha.

• Regardless of how many stars are in a family, the younger stars separate from them at 15 to explore. When they turn 18, they choose a name for themselves that suit them. Most stars do take on names humans give constellations or certain stars in particular.

• Nomads don't really like to be in big groups unless they have to be. The closest is two stars that are mates. So Star trying to join them long term is why he annoys them. Some nomads can be cheerful, while others vary in emotional state.

• If they see someone under stress, they touch foreheads to calm them down. Its also a sign of affection.

• Nomads don't get too attached because the memories of their families start to fade away as they enter adulthood. So it won't hurt of they don't remember them. This is why they're mostly aloof with others. Star's been holding onto his memories as long as possible, which causing him emotional stress.

• There are no royal stars in this universe, so nomads are just ordinary in this instance. Its what they choose to use the magic for that makes any of them stand out, and it's only limited by their imagination. Star's magic basically run on the classic Disney style magic, which is why he loves to turn into animals and make things talk. This is also why Star wants to look like a prince or hero to Asha, so he feels like he can better enough for her.

• There are rumors of a star that can grant human's (or even other stars) wishes, but no-one has ever seen it. It may not even exist.....yet.

• Nomads court their potential mate with a song. If the desired mate sings along with them and the solo song becomes a duet, they become mates for life.

And that's the rest of the magic system! Thanks to everyone who's been submitting questions about the stars and the wishes of this AU! Stay tuned for more lore, cause next I delve into The Hamlet and more of Asha's side of this world. Including more about her family! (Especially Tomás)

@your-ne1ghbor @tumblingdownthefoxden @chillwildwave @jojo-ker06 @snackara @oh-shtars @natsuki208 @spectator-zee @starss-artss @thesafireartist @ishadow246

[digonthis]

Catered Audience- Pt. 4

Spencer Agnew x f!Reader

1.8k words

( ᴅᴍ ᴏʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴛᴀɢ :] )

slow burn-ish, fluff, mutual pining, all that shit

part 1 part 2 part 3

tags (ily): @midnightdragonzero @stand-tall-pineapple @anarchisticedtea

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧♡‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

Spencer loved the Smosh holiday parties… for the first hour.

After that it tends to become more exhausting than anything else. Everyone was either drunk, babysitting the drunks, or starting the next big office rumour thanks to stupid drunken actions taken out of context.

That’s exactly why, upon arrival, he snuck away to one of the smaller rooms in the venue, one with a tv that him and Alex had discovered the year prior, and ended up watching a movie after the boredom of the late-night party set in. This time, he was a little more prepared with clone hero on his laptop and the guitar controller he’d swiped from the office for the occasion. Once satisfied that the setup would bring a smile to Alex’s face a few hours from now, Spencer adjusted the collar of the ugly christmas sweater he’d been coerced into wearing and made his way into the party.

Music, lights, food, crowds of people, and a million selfies he was encouraged to join in on overwhelmed him immediately. Being on everyone’s instagram stories was a given for this kind of event, so he threw on his best photo smile and an awkward thumbs up. He soon found Alex, whose sweater was even uglier than his own. Through the regular slew of joking insults that they greeted each other with, Spencer swore he could see an irregularly cheerful smile always on Alex’s face, as if he had something planned that he couldn’t keep to himself for long.

Spencer let that be for now, turning his attention to Ian’s little opening speech. It was more of a stand-up routine really, poking fun at everyone while simultaneously acknowledging all the hard work and progress they’d accomplished this year. It ended with a toast, almost everyone had a glass of something bubbly in hand, and a ravenous applause. Alex nudged him gently, but Spencer paid it no mind. It was only after three or four nudges that he actually turned his attention to his friend, following his gaze again until it landed on a group of the girls standing a few metres away, toasting their own glasses. Angela, Arasha, Courtney, and… someone else. Facing away, he couldn’t make out who it was.  Alex just kept looking at him with that stupid smile as gears refused to turn in his brain.

“Hey man, is that uh… the…”

“Yup.”

“Oh. Huh.”

That was all Spencer could manage, his brain short-circuiting as he realized that it was definitely her. Even from the back, he recognized her hair, and his ears picked up that familiar laugh, watching her shoulders shake at a stupid joke someone had made. 

He quickly realized confirmation of identity would come very soon as she started to turn around, eyes flickering around the room. She seemed to be looking for something for just a moment before returning to the conversation. “Go talk to her.”

Spencer 's gaze snapped to Alex, appalled by his request. “I’m not gonna just- she’s a stranger!” “She knows you from the videos, i’m sure. She made you a cupcake.” Alex replied coolly, before draining his glass. Spencer stood and thought for a moment, trying to think of how he could start a normal conversation. Alex must’ve sensed his apprehension, grabbing another glass for each of them. “You’re the least awkward guy ever, you know. Just be normal. Chill.”

“Nah, I don’t want to freak her out. Especially after all the stuff in videos lately. I’m not worried about it, really. Let her enjoy the party…”

This was obviously a bit of an excuse, but Alex decided to let it slide. He saw the way Spencer was holding onto the drink he’d given him, eyes flickering to where she’d stood every few seconds. Thankfully, work parties at Smosh were always jam-packed with things to do, so it wasn’t long before some game or speech or tik tok filming would take his mind off of the unexpected party guest.

As expected, a few hours passed and Spencer had exhausted any energy he had to think about the girl. There were a few times they’d locked eyes, but neither had bothered to talk to the other. He usually kept an eye on where she was, just for his own peace of mind. For the last fifteen minutes, there was no sign of her, so he assumed she’d gone home. A twinge of regret hit him, just a little, for not just doing what Alex said and talking to her, but the guilt didn’t last too long as he remembered his setup from earlier.

Slipping away from the group he was standing in, long since tuned out of the conversation, Spencer made his way to the room he’d left the guitar hero in. Hearing soft music coming from the room, he silently cursed Alex for starting without him before shoving the door open in a playful huff, ready with a quip about patience before immediately choking on his words.

There she was. The girl who hadn’t left his mind for weeks, surrounded by empty cups of booze, high heels abandoned, dialled in and absolutely shredding Alice in Chains.

She was mumbling the words along too, and from the looks of the notes flying on the screen it was quite the tough difficulty setting. She kept up, eyes never leaving the screen as obviously experienced fingers hit the fret buttons and strummed away. She had the telltale blush of a drunk across her cheeks and nose, even spreading a little to her ears, and her eyelids drooped a bit every now and again before snapping back to high alert. To Spencer’s delight, the door wasn’t loud enough or in a position where she’d seen him walk into the room, so he took a moment to appreciate the sight.

The song ended before he’d figured out what to do or say, so he simply walked over and sat next to her, clapping along with the applause coming from the game. Her eyes widened as they finally met his, the grip she had on the plastic guitar tightening before she quickly pulled it off, offering it up. “I didn’t mean to mess with your stuff, I just haven’t played since I was in college and wanted to see-”

“Good song choice, do another.” He stated plainly with a gentle smile. She was obviously a little startled, but nodded before slowly putting the guitar back on. “I still want a turn after, though. Just need a minute to decide what to play...” Spencer added, adjusting his sitting position on the floor, intent to watch the girl and the screen at the same time.

She took a few minutes to scroll through songs, humming along to a few previews before settling on Nine Inch Nails. “I could never do the solo at the end as a kid, it always killed my hands…” She muttered, setting the difficulty to hard and settling her fingers on the keys as the beat started up.

She played the majority of the song with ease, but just as she said, the solo came around and she fumbled it immediately. Teeth dug into her bottom lip as the screen flashed red and the song abruptly ended, making her giggle nervously. Spencer, who hadn’t realized how invested he’d become until that moment, unclenched his fists and leaned back with a soft smile. “That shit was tough, I can’t blame you…” He mumbled, shifting a little. She began to pull the guitar strap off again, but he placed his hand on her’s for a split second before pulling away. “At least try one more time, you were close!”

It took a little convincing, but the drunken, glazed over look in her eyes turned to determination at his insistence and she booted the song back up again. He was now sitting ever so closer, His hip almost bumping hers as she dialled in on the song. Note after note, Spencer was painfully aware of the approaching solo, the alcohol in both their systems making the feat far more important than what it actually was.

Before he knew what he was even really doing, he had slid over to sit behind her. The pads of his fingers pressed to the tops of hers as he tried to find the frets, the notes started rolling in. He felt the way she tensed against his chest for a moment before leaning into him, now only focused on strumming as tipsy giggles fell from her lips. The song filled the silence of the room as Spencer handled the solo almost mechanically, gently pinning her fingers to the buttons, puppeting her through the tough stuff without problem. 

He quickly released his hand as she whispered a quiet thank you, feeling her hands regain control, hard part was done. A quick nod of acknowledgement was meant to be his cue to slip away, even if it was barely in her peripheral, but he hesitated on moving out of her personal space as he noticed the gentle pressure on his chest hadn’t gone away. She was still leaning on him. He sucked in a generous breath, hoping his heartbeat wasn’t going any crazier than it already had been, and settled in to watch her play the rest of the song. He held his breath a little at her shaky ending, but let it out slowly with a smile on his face as she seemed to brighten up at finally finishing the track, giggling fit returning as she let her head fall back on his shoulder so their eyes could finally meet. “You’re pretty good at that, you know.” 

Spencer could only smile and nod at first, looking away after a moment of taking in how pretty her eyes were up close. “I work on the games channel here, it’s kinda my job to be pretty good at that stuff.”

That only makes her laugh again, adjusting the guitar again and holding it up against her body. “Your turn now, only fair. Pick a song.”

His arms wrap around her carefully, taking hold of the controller and beginning to scroll through songs. He could only pray that it would be a little longer before Alex showed up to play with them, fully unaware that Alex had been the one to tip the girl off to the hidden game room in the first place. Nobody would be bothering them, that was for certain. As Spencer began the next song and the girl settled against his chest, the sting of biting his lip in concentration was the only way he could stay convinced this was anything other than a dream.

Her little hums and sighs as she watched the screen, the smell of her hair, the way he felt her tense and focus for difficult riffs and hum along to the lyrics she could recall… maybe he was dreaming, after all.

[kurthorton-moving]

this isnt an au ive talked ab on the dash much its mostly been written on discord but i am thinking heavily about the au where kurt spends his entire teenage years kidnapped and finally escapes a little while after he turned eighteen and the way he has to adjust to the shift in his life from being hostage and conditioned into the lifestyle he lived vs freedom and rediscovering the world and more importantly rediscovering himself

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Yandere!Vampire that was once royalty, living in a dilapidated castle, alone and depressed. As a human, he was surrounded by people. Everyone adored him, his golden curls and warm brown eyes charming the hearts of every noble that set eyes on him.

That was until his family was slaughtered by a coven of vampires, leaving him the only survivor. Now with no family, he was turned away from the nobles that once gathered at his side, calling him beautiful and intelligent. Now he was a beast, and was only left alive because no one dared to touch him.

As the years passed by, all that knew of his existence died out, meaning no one remembered or cared for him. In the past, he had at least been grateful he had been in someone’s thoughts, even if it was in a negative light. Now, no one even hated him. He was just nonexistent to the world outside his castle.

Centuries passed by, every day slowly picking at the last bits of his sanity. Days of past grandeur and the current day mixed together, leaving him in a state where he couldn’t tell whether he was back in the living arms of his family, or wandering the dark, crumbling hallways of his childhood home.

It was only when a soft, warm light flooded one of the abandoned rooms he had been standing in that the fog in his brain began to fade, allowing him to see what was in front of him for the first time in decades.

It was you, a young woman in a hoodie and jeans, holding a flashlight. You lived only a mile away, and had been exploring when you came upon ruins of what seemed like an ancient castle.

You had heard rumors of a person that wandered the ruins from the townsfolk, and old tales of vampires that had been passed down by tongue for centuries. Not believing them, you decided to see for yourself…

Your light shone upon what you first thought was an ethereal ghost or some kind of beautiful spirit. A man with a mop of blonde curls, porcelain skin, and the most beautiful pair of ruby red eyes you’ve ever seen stared back at you.

The person attempted to speak, but clutched his throat, as if he hadn’t spoken in so long, his vocal cords had forgotten how.

“H-hello?”

The man perked up at the sound of your voice, his eyes clearing up. It seemed just hearing another human speak made his undead heart leap, and he couldn’t help but stumble towards you.

You yelped when he crossed the room within seconds and pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your neck and inhaling deeply.

The smell of another person, of sweat and perfume mixing together to make your own unique scent made him want to sob.

Of course you were freaked out, but the man holding onto you wasn’t hurting you, and you could feel warm tears soaking through your shirt. How could you turn away someone that was obviously in distress?

Unsurprisingly, the man followed you home. It didn’t take a genius to realize he wasn’t human. He was as pale as a sheet of paper, with no pulse or any color to his cheeks. His eyes were scarlet, a shade you had never seen a human have before.

Despite knowing this, you couldn’t help but care for him. He was thin, malnourished, with clothing that was so old and dirty that it nearly crumbled when he took them off.

“Are you hungry?”

You had taken to asking only yes or no questions, since he couldn’t speak. The man frowned, his eyes getting foggy for a second. You decided to ask again.

“Hello? Are you-“

He suddenly snapped back into reality, leaning forward to gently place his lips on your neck. You squeaked out in surprise when you felt his teeth sink into your neck… but it didn’t hurt. Instead, you only felt an uncomfortable pressure and draining sensation, and before long he was pulling back.

“Mmph…” he panted softly, blood running down his chin. “Was… so… thirsty…” he managed to say, his voice hoarse and small.

He cupped your cheek, holding your face in his hands and looking down at you with what could only be described as utter adoration.

“My love…”

From that point on, he was attached to your hip, following you everywhere you went like a lovesick puppy. Any time you were separated, he had severe anxiety, going back and forth from his dreamworld and reality. It was his coping mechanism, but it caused him to never understand what was real and what wasn’t.

You grounded him, made him feel safe and loved. Oh how he adored you. You had saved him from his lonely existence and taken him into your home as if he were a stray dog, and he was loyal like one. His loyalty came at a price, however, and that price was your freedom to do as you pleased.

Late nights out with friends became next to nonexistent, especially if he knew there would be any males there.

“I just want to protect you, my beloved. It’s a dangerous, cruel world. People will act as if they love you when they do not…”

And as you slowly became more and more isolated, his affections only grew. Kisses to your hand began to trail up your arm and to your neck. Snuggles turned into grinding and heavy petting, and even the most innocent of caresses became lewd in nature.

It didn’t take long for him to fuck you for the first time. After all, he had been pent up and alone for centuries, resisting taking you on the spot was excruciating.

The second he sunk into your pussy, he came. You were just so warm and your scent made his head fuzzy. He couldn’t help but fuck into you like a wild animal, feeding from your pretty neck as he filled you up over and over.

After the first time, a day didn’t pass by when he didn’t crave your intimate touch. Some days he was satisfied with heavy petting and kisses, others he couldn’t be satiated until his face was between your legs, lapping at your cunt for hours.

You were his, his mate, his lover. He couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore, so could you really blame him when he clung to you so tightly?

He just loved you, and he did such a good job at keeping you satisfied, just enough to where you didn’t look into the missing cases of your old lovers and male friends.

Why would you need to pay attention to any of that when your loving, attentive boyfriend was right there, ready to worship you from head to toe?

[amaranthinespirit]

roommate!simon riley when your vibrator dies before you can finish, and he offers to relieve that tension

your feverish body splayed across the bed, covers thrown into a heaved pile surrounding you as a thin layer of sweat coats your skin and dampens the sheets under you. pathetic gasps of desperacy slip past your lips despite the thin walls as you pressed the vibrator against your sensitive clit.

you could feel the buildup in the bottom of your tummy, the heat of release that pooled slowly rising and threatening to spill over. your legs bucked, your whole body trembling in desperation as your other hand squeezed your breast. strings of muttered pleases escaping your pouty lips.

it was right there, you were about to wash over—to drown in the sweet snap of that taut knot in your body. you pressed the tiny, bullet vibrator harder against your abused clit, hoping it would give you the release you so desperately chased after.

until it died. it wasn't a gradual slow down to let you know it was on its last moments—it just stopped.

you whined in frustration, feeling the orgasm about to wash over you all too quickly drain—after it had taken you all this time to build it up.

you were panting, body still trembling as another groan escaped your throat. you tossed the vibrator carelessly across the room, hearing it thud against the wall as your hands came up to cover your flushed face.

in the next room over, simon had heard the little whines and gasps you had let slip by, smirking whenever his name would reach his ears. he had heard you for months—the walls were thin—but he had never decided to act on anything.

it wasn't like he wasn't into you—because he was and he was in his room, fucking his heavy cock in his right hand pretending it was yours. it never worked���his hands were far too roughed and calloused compared to your soft, delicate skin.

but he never had the opportunity to approach you about it—until now.

when he heard that noise of frustration fall from your lips, the light thud against the wall, a knowing smirk teased the corners of his lips.

he pushed himself from, adjusting his sweatpants as he did so before he landed in front of your door.

he knocked—he had some decency after all—but he didn't want long for an answer before pushing his way in. he didn't know what he was going to find—well, he had an idea—but boy, you surprised him.

a choked gasp flew from your lips at the knock, not even getting the chance to at least cover up by the time he was standing in your—now open—doorway.

you had sat up so fast, it was dizzying, but you brushed it off as you tried to tug the covers over your bare body, but it didn't help they were half falling off the bed and slightly heavy.

his gaze traveled appreciatively over you, shamelessly staring at your slick covered thighs and glistening pussy, a damp spot on the sheets below you.

you yelped as you noticed his staring, clamping your legs shut as you attempted again to cover yourself—each tug at the blanket was like a fight for an ounce of dignity. you weren't sure you had any now.

your chest still heaved, body flushed and slightly pink with reddened skin over your left breast. you swallowed thickly, stumbling over your words as you avoided his gaze, "what...do you...you need something?" you finally managed out.

his brow quirked up at your question, humming as he examined—analyzed—your movements. movement made of embarrassment and shame to be caught like this.

"dunno, luv," his voice was dangerously low, and gruff. he cleared his throat, slowly stepping towards the side of the bed, "looks like y'might need sumthin', hm?"

he stalked towards you like a predator, his eyes dark and half-lidded in a way that made shivers run down your spine and your pussy wetter.

he chuckled as you shook your head. he could feel the embarrassment radiating off of you as he stood right beside the bed, the side you didn't occupy.

the bed dipped with the weight of his knee, his body heavy against the springs as he bent over, a hand coming to your bare hip. he watched the goosebumps ripple from the touch of his calloused hand.

his other hand landed on your knee, slowly prying them apart as he hummed lowly in appreciation of the sight of your soaking cunt, glistening under the low light of your room.

his hand slid your knee, down your thighs until he rubbed two fingers down the center of your pussy. the slick collected on his fingers as they glided through the folds with ease because of your arousal.

"hm, you sure about that, luv?" he teased as he heard the pathetic moan that you tried to stifle slip past your chapped lips.

he brought his thumb down against your clit, swirling over the oversensitive bud before pinching it between his fingers. he huffed out a chuckle at the mewl you let out.

he teased your slit, barely dipping his fingers against your walls before pulling them away to slide through your folds while he continued to tease and bully your poor clit.

he watched the way you became a mess under his hand, no doubt getting wetter by his hand than with the vibrator he spotted thrown by the side of the wall. he nearly laughed at the sight of the small thing, his finger practically the size of it.

don't worry, you were better off being taken care of in his hands, by his fingers as he brings you to release by just toying with your clit.

and he'll give you more if you let him.

[yuwuta]

AFTERGLOW. — JJK BOYS + JEALOUSY

❝tell me that you’re still mine, tell me that we’ll be just fine, even when i've lost my mind  

featuring. gojo, inumaki, nanami, okkotsu

content. a character study in jealousy, no content warnings, no smut in this version, fem reader

word count. 2.8k

SATORU GOJO You’re attempting to finish getting ready for the evening and Satoru has taken his favorite activity: filing through every crevice of your room like he���d been hired as a private investigator. Even though he knows that you know that he’s nothing more than a nosy idiot, Satoru claims that it’s an important and intimate routine that he should know the ins and outs of your living space just as well as you know his—“You know exactly where I keep my boxers, and I don’t even think I’ve seen the inside of your closet—oh, hey, this is cute,” he grins, sticking out his impossibly long arm to shake a thin, lacy bodysuit on a hanger, “How come you’ve never shown me this, huh? Maybe you should wear this instead, it seems easier to take—ouch.”

He groans at the impact of your hairbrush against his shoulder, then swiftly proceeds to pout and whine about how mean you are to him when you return to ignoring him in favor of applying the final touches to your makeup. Your closet seems to be of little interest to him after that, as Satoru crosses the room to hover around you at your vanity instead. He leans in too closely, as if watching you apply bronzer was a novel sight to him. You flip your brush quickly, barely tapping at his nose and laughing at his scrunched reaction.

“Your reflexes aren’t so sharp today,” you tease. You’re prepared for a witty response, and when you glance, there’s a familiar mischief shimmering in your boyfriend’s eyes; but, then his gaze ventures slightly past you, and all signs of playfulness drain from his face. Instead of getting revenge, or annoying you further, Satoru reaches over your body and into a shallow jewelry dish to pick up the bracelet he’d spotted. It’s a dainty little thing, thin gold with a small heart in the middle glittering with shiny stones, that he threads along his fingers with scrutiny before standing up straight to dangle it in front his face for further inspection, “This is new to me.”

Perhaps you’d spoken too soon, because only Satoru would spot that one piece of jewelry amongst the others swimming the tray. His eyes flutter between the bracelet and you, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head, and the accusation he won’t say outloud—did you buy yourself heart-shaped jewelry, or is there something else going on here?

You sigh and keep your expression and voice neutral, your attention seemingly still focused on the finishing touches of your makeup, “It’s new to you because I haven’t worn it in years,” you tell him, “My ex gave it to me.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you occupy yourself with your mascara, before Satoru speaks, “That makes sense, it doesn’t look all that promising. What is it—barely gold plated?” he taunts, sweeping away his air of concern with one of mockery, standing up straight to twirl the bracelet around his index finger, “Figures your ex boy toy had no taste for the finer things in life. You’re worth more than this, my darling.”

You shake your head with light laughter, patting in the remnants of your setting spray before standing. Satoru continues on, rambling about the poor construction of your commercially produced bracelet—holds it between his index finger and thumb like it’ll poison him if he exposes it to too much of his skin, and you can’t help but smile as you reach for the lapel of his blazer to pull him down for a kiss. He has no words of objection to this, pulling you in by the waist for another and another and another, before you finally pull away, “Come, let’s go. I don’t feel like getting lectured by Utahime for your tardiness again.”

You’re too preoccupied for the rest of the evening to notice the item missing from your jewelry dish. What you do notice, two afternoons later, shortly after Satoru has left to pick up Nanami from the airport, is a blue velvet box with your name written in pretty, gold cursive along the top—and inside, a gold tennis bracelet, glittering with diamonds, with a necklace to match. You have no doubt they’re legitimate, if not for the way the sparkle, then by the text that rings through on your phone after you question Satoru:

from: satoruwu 🫧🩵 — only the best for my baby <33

TOGE INUMAKI

Toge knows that the price of coffee has gotten way out of hand, but what bothers him more is the decreasing pace of said coffee getting made and the increase of crazy, caffeine addicted people who feel the need to be loud around him while he’s waiting for his drinks. You, however, seem to take pleasure in his suffering, as you always thank him and coo, saying he looks cute despite his grumbly demeanor, “You always look like you fought a war for two cups of coffee, Toge.” 

He rolls his eyes as he steps into your apartment, not minding the sound of your giggling behind him. He sets the drinks on your island, and pulls out a stool to sit on. You round the marble, reaching him just as he’s pulled down his mask for a thank you kiss to his cheek. He wants to make you suffer for longer, but when you lean against him, he can’t help but to return the hug and kiss your forehead—you’re welcome, always.

Still, he pokes at your head, waits until you dig your head out of his shoulder with curious eyes, before he points to the Keurig sitting in the corner of one the wall-mounted counters, and moves his hands to sign, “Why keep that if you spend all my money on coffee?”

“Rude. I offer to pay all the time,” you chide, poking at his collar bone and standing straight. You make your way back to the opposite side of the counter, and reach to a drawer to fetch a straw, before shrugging, “My ex left it here when we broke up. I keep it for the aesthetic—I’m not even sure if it works.”

A myriad of thoughts runs through Toge’s mind—most importantly: had your ex left other things here, and how quickly could he get rid of them?

“Besides,” you break his murderous train of thought, “None of the pods make good espresso. Couldn’t even make my hot girl latte if it worked.”

“Your ‘hot girl latte’ is iced,” Toge signs.

Under normal circumstances, a comment like that would earn him a flick to the forehead, but you can tell that behind the sarcasm, Toge is actually upset. So, in lieu of teasing him, you walk back over to him; settling yourself behind his stool to give him a back hug. You lean your cheek against his shoulder and press a small kiss there, “You’re cute.” 

Toge huffs, shaking his shoulders for dramatic effect. You laugh, leaning up to give him another kiss on the cheek. “You’re cute and you have nothing to worry about. It’s an old coffee machine.” 

He hums, taking another sip of his coffee before turning, barely bumping the top of your forehead, so you can see his raised eyebrow. You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, “You’re cute, and you have nothing to worry about, and I love you.” 

He finally smiles again, content, and grants you another kiss to your forehead. With his mood back to normal, the two of you finish your coffee and carry on with your scheduled study session as normal (normal being Toge leaving you alone for all of twenty-seven minutes, before he starts taking videos of you with various outrages Snapchat filters on).

However, the following day when you return from your classes, there’s four new items on your kitchen counter: a silver espresso machine, a reusable Starbucks cup (already filled with your usual drink), a neatly folded apron decorated with cartoon Shiba Inus, and a small card with Toge’s bubbly handwriting on it: “Don’t worry, I’ll still pay for you $6 pink drinks, but if you wanted to thank me by making coffee in just the apron, then I wouldn’t complain ;)”

KENTO NANAMI Kento is a rational man; he favors using logic to carry out decisive actions, rather than letting his emotions get the best of him. So, the rational part of him knows that it’s not a big deal that the lunch bag and bento-style tupperware you bring to work was a gift from your ex-girlfriend; but there’s a small, ugly, green part of him overrun with jealousy and another bitter-tasting feeling he can’t quite name.

Because it’s not that important. It makes sense that you keep using them—the lunch bag is nice, leather, sleek, and insulated, and the tupperware is sturdy and functional. The whole system is sustainable, practical. It was a good present, one that objectively serves a good purpose whether or not it was given by an ex or not.

Maybe that’s what he hates so much. That this person still has room in your life, even though you haven’t spoken to them since you’ve met him. Kento doesn’t like that reminder—that there are people out there who might be a good fit for you, a better one than him. Those ugly feelings aside, there’s a sour taste in his mouth when he packs your lunch now; knowing that the food he cooked for the two of you—the meal you’re both going to indulge in—sits in a container gifted to you by an ex-lover.

Irrational to the point of being unfocused, he doesn’t realize how close the glass is to the edge of the counter, and when he turns to scoop more rice, he accidentally knocks it over with his elbow. It breaks into tiny pieces on the ground, the small portion of rice and chicken spilling onto the ground. The sound draws you out of your bedroom, mascara wand in hand and robe still on to call for him, “Kento? Everything okay?”

“I… it was an accident,” he explains, setting the spoon down in favor of reaching for a napkin, dropping to his knee with a light sigh, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to break it.”

Your laughter surprises him, prompts him to look up at you with broken glass shards pooled in his palm, “You don’t have to worry so much! It happens, we have a million more.”

There’s something about the way you don’t seem to acknowledge it being special to you in any way—Kento’s not even sure if you recognize what broke—that reassures him. Because it really was an accident, but Kento doesn’t mind that he managed to break this particular plate. 

When he shoos you back to getting dressed, he finishes picking up the broken glass shards. There’s a certain lightness to his actions now, petty as it may be, he’s happy. Spends extra time writing a note for you to see when you unpack your food before he retires to the bathroom to start getting ready himself. 

Maybe he could do something about that lunchbox next. You don’t seem to mind.

YUUTA OKKOTSU Thursdays are Yuuta’s favorite day of the week because on Thursdays, you two meet up at your spot, which is really just a set of twin benches in the west quad, but it’s your place and Yuuta loves it. You will have reserved a study room in your favorite library, and Yuuta will buy snacks for your study session before you both head to the library in an attempt to finish up your work for the week in order to keep your Friday evenings free.

Yuuta usually gets to the bench before you, a combination of the engineering building being a little bit closer, and his legs being a lot longer. He doesn’t mind waiting for you, as it’s usually his first time seeing you in two days (your Tuesdays are too packed for anything other than a shared coffee break between lectures, and Wednesdays are his hell days), and spotting you through the crowd of dissipating students always brings a smile to his face.

You look cute today, an oversized sweater enveloping your frame that Yuuta can imagine you cozying into and nearly dozing off in your dreaded microbiology lecture. He laughs to himself at the mental image, just as you stop in front of him to ponder, “Something funny?”

Yuuta shakes his head, leaning down to kiss your forehead with a proper greeting. “Nothing,” he reassures you, reaching around to pull your backpack off of your shoulders, and slings it over one of his, “You look cute. Did you mean to buy a sweater big enough to double as a blanket?”

“The oversized look is in,” you scrunch your nose and roll your eyes, letting Yuuta take your hand in his despite his teasing, “I don’t even think I bought this, honestly. It might be Todo’s? Or Toge’s—it might even be Maki’s at this point.”

Yuuta freezes. He feels the world stop and a million different emotions surge through him at once, but the most prevalent of them all is something ugly and green. He could deal with Toge, though he doubts he’s the culprit. While you two shared a penchant for oversized clothing, Toge was more often than not the thief, rather than the lender, and he’s pretty good at keeping his collection of stolen goods under lock and key. Maki was out of the question, too, because you shared a class with Nobara earlier today, and there’s no way you’d have made it out of there wearing her girlfriend’s sweater.

So it probably was Todo’s. And Yuuta had said you looked cute. Though he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole, his moment of self-pity is waning, and overcast by something steely, something too-hot bubbling in his chest. The question of why you have it goes over his head—he’s not concerned with that, nor will he fault you for it—the matter at hand is that you’re wearing it. And, sure, Yuuta thought you looked good in it before, but he could name sixteen other things you’d look better in at this very moment.

You’ve gone on to ramble about something that happened earlier, but Yuuta’s not listening. He drops your hand first, then both of your backpacks on the bench behind him, before tapping at your wrists. You don’t seem to understand him, cocking your head to the side with a pensive expression, but Yuuta only taps at your wrists again with a simple command, “Up.”

It doesn’t seem like you understand, but you follow anyway, and Yuuta is pulling the sweater up and off of your body before you can question him. He tosses it onto the bench with little care, then removes his white jacket and places it atop your backpacks. “What are—” you don’t have time to finish before he’s pulled his own hoodie off his body, and slid it over your head.

Yuuta smooths out the fabric under his palms with a satisfied grin on his face. Much better.

“Aw, Yuuta!” you bring a hand to tug at the strings of the hood, a wicked smile replacing your dazed blinking, “I didn’t know you were so possessive.”

You tease him until he’s red up to his ears, embarrassed and borderline bashful, a complete 180 from the looming jealousy that took over him moments before as he shimmies on his jacket again and picks up your back backs. He huffs, as you tease him, circling an arm around his as you begin to walk to the student center. He doesn’t know if he agrees with your declarations of him being a possessive boyfriend, but he does know that he’s your boyfriend, and your boyfriend only.

“So, you think I look cute, still?” you question, picking up a pack of gummy worms. Yuuta lets out a breath of laughter, pressing another kiss to your forehead, “Even cuter than before.”

(Two days later, Todo can be found screaming wildly to Itadori when he comes across a familiar hoodie strewn across a random bench on campus—who considers visiting the Student Health Clinic to make sure an eardrum wasn’t ruptured—because, “Bro, what the hell? I swear I fucking lost this thing!”)

[girlgenius1111]

learning curve part 2

alexia putellas x reader [& r's nephew] will tries to adjust, and so do r and alexia. a phone call and a nightmare dampen will's spirits, but alexia and r try prove that they are there for him. very soft fluff. angst. kidfic. shorter chapter but wanted to get this out before finals kill me hope you enjoy❤️‍🩹

There were so many good moments in being… well, not a parent. Being whatever you were to Will. Moments that you swore made your heart grow, like when Alexia would give him a piggyback ride around the house and he’d giggle until he was out of breath, or when he’d lift up his plate at dinner to very proudly show you he’d eaten all his vegetables. 

The reality was, however, that Will was a traumatized kid, living in a foreign country that spoke an entirely different language to him. Far away from his favorite person in the world, far away from everything he’d ever known. And while Will mostly trusted you, you were still practically a stranger to him, and Alexia was a stranger to him. 

Will was an anxious kid, with a lot to adjust to, and some days he didn’t want you. He didn’t want to be in Spain. He wanted to go back home and be with his Dad. That was just the one thing in the world you couldn’t give him. 

—

It was only the end of the first week of having Will living with you, and you hadn’t quite perfected your routine. It was Saturday, and he was due to start school on Monday, and though he hadn’t said anything, you could tell he was dreading it. Even with the new backpack and new light up shoes you’d gotten him, his little face grew so solemn whenever the topic of school was brought up. 

It had been an oddly calm week, which you were more than grateful for. Pere had taken you both out of the traveling squad for the weekend without either of you even asking. He insisted family was the most important thing, and you guys were facing a team at the bottom of the table anyway. So, with only a few training sessions and several days off, you and Alexia had been trying to get Will settled. 

One of the first things you’d done upon arriving back in Spain was finding Will a child psychologist. He hadn’t met with her yet, but she’d listened to the situation and given you a few tips on how to help Will adjust. And though there was a hoard of teammates and friends very eager to meet your nephew, one of the psychologist’s tips had been to take things slow, especially with introducing him to people. Too much, all at once, would just remind Will how much had changed. He didn’t need to be overwhelmed right now. 

Taking her advice, Will hadn’t met anyone before yesterday, when you and Alexia brought him over to Alexia’s mami’s house for dinner. He met Eli and Alba, instantly taking to Alexia’s sister. It wasn’t surprising; she was a teacher for young kids, and was already sitting on the floor at the coffee table coloring when the three of you had walked in. He’d spent most of the evening silently playing with her, his wide eyes flickering over to you every few minutes, as if to ensure that you were still there. 

It had been a late night, and even the limited conversation that Will had engaged in had seemed to drain him. He’d fallen asleep in the car on the way home, as you’d found he was very prone to doing. Alexia had carried him inside, his face smushed into her shoulder as her arms wrapped around him protectively. He woke, very grumpily, when you had him change into his pajamas and brush his teeth, passing right back out the minute his head hit his pillow. 

Will liked his sleep, you’d learned, and it wasn’t a surprise that after such a draining and long day, he’d slept in. It was nearing 10, though, and you didn’t think kids this little were supposed to sleep this late. Alexia and you had had a slow, quiet morning, enjoying the time alone together more than you would have just a week ago. Now, as you lay on the couch snuggled against your girlfriend’s side watching the team play on the TV, the now very familiar anxiety began to invade your every thought. 

“Should we wake him up?” You wondered, shifting to look at Alexia’s face. Her eyes remained locked on the TV, and it took a few seconds for the question to process. 

“I’m not sure, amor. If he’s tired, should we let him sleep? It’s been a long week.” 

“I know, but–”

“Tia?” Will’s voice called from the doorway, small and trembling. Your head whipped around to look at him, hesitating in the doorway as he rubbed at his eyes with his fists. He was crying, or trying not to cry, you couldn’t tell. 

“Hey, buddy. What’s wrong?” You asked gently, opening your arms and gesturing for him to come closer. The TV turned off as Alexia tore her attention away from the match and looked to Will with concern. 

“I-I want my Dad.” Will mumbled, taking a step further into the room but not taking you up on the unspoken offer for a hug. 

“Do you want to call him, sweetheart?” Your heart truly broke at the sad look on his face, and as much as you wished you could just fix it for him, you knew you couldn’t. 

Will considered for a moment, taking another half step forward before nodding. “Yes, please.” 

Luckily, the prison Leo was incarcerated in allowed inmates to receive phone calls, though it took a while for the call to get connected. You had to call the prison, request to talk to Leo, and if he was available, they’d bring him to the phone area. The process could take anywhere from 10-20 minutes, but Will wasn’t looking especially patient at the moment, his eyes wide and filled with tears as he watched you grab your phone off the table. 

“Will, cariño, why don’t we go get you some breakfast while we wait for your Papi to pick up?” Alexia asked, standing and holding her hand out towards the boy.

“‘M not hungry.” Will murmured, fidgeting nervously with the hem of his pajama shirt. 

Alexia hummed, moving cautiously towards Will and squatting down so she was eye level with him. “You might be hungry when you get off the phone, and if we start making pancakes now, they will be ready just in time.” 

The suggestion seemed to pique Will’s interest, even in his very solemn mood. “Okay. Pancakes.” 

He wrapped his hand around two of Alexia’s fingers and she smiled happily, leading him into the kitchen. 

They got to work making the pancake batter, Alexia allowing Will to help her measure out the ingredients as you waited to hear the sound of your brother’s voice come over the phone. 

Just as Leo came over the line, you heard a faint giggle come from the kitchen, and you smiled despite yourself. Alexia could always seem to get Will to laugh, no matter what mood he was in. You said hi to your brother, before calling for your nephew. His steps padded quickly from the kitchen into the living room, reaching for the phone with a somewhat desperate air to him. 

“Hi Dad.” Will greeted, sitting down on the edge of the couch. You couldn’t quite hear what your brother was saying, and you wanted to give Will some privacy, so you headed for the kitchen. Trying to tune out the conversation in the other room, you headed right for Alexia, who was stood at the stove, waiting for the perfect moment to flip the pancakes. You wrapped your arms around her, pressing your front to her back and sighing heavily. 

Alexia didn’t say anything in response at first, just placed her free hand over yours and squeezed. 

“Does this look like a heart, amor?” She inquired after a moment. You peeked over her shoulder, smiling despite yourself at the vaguely heart shaped pancake in the pan. 

“It does.” You lied, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Although I think Will would prefer a dinosaur.” 

Alexia chuckled. “I do not think I am that talented yet. Besides, he only cares about the syrup, not the shape of the pancake. The heart is for you.” 

Your cheeks flushed because no matter how much time passed, you were quite sure Alexia would always stun you a little with her sweet gestures. 

“I love you.” You murmured, a bit overwhelmed with softness for your girlfriend at that moment. Whether it was the barely heart shaped pancake or the gentleness and kindness she showed Will, you weren’t sure. 

“Te amo más.” Alexia replied, and you didn’t have to see her face to hear the small smile in her voice. 

As soon as you heard Will’s faint goodbye, you headed back into the living room. Your nephew didn’t look any happier, still perched on the edge of the couch, though now he was fully crying into his hands. 

“All done, buddy?” You called, feeling your chest tighten as Will jumped a bit and hastily began to wipe at his face with his hands. 

He nodded, handing your phone back to you without looking in your direction or saying a word. 

“Are you okay, Will?” You inquired, sitting next to him on the couch. 

He shrugged, lip quivering as he tried to hold in his cries. “Sorry.” 

“Sweetheart, you don’t need to be sorry about being sad.” You told him, reaching over and lifting him into your lap. He curled into you, his hand twisting into the fabric of your shirt. “You can be sad, and you can cry. This is really hard and you’re being so brave, but it’s okay to cry.” 

Will began to cry in earnest now, and you tried not to tear up yourself at the pain he was feeling, pain that was much too big for such a young kid. 

“I want my Dad.” Will whispered brokenly, clutching tighter to your shirt. 

“I know, I know you do. I’m sorry sweetheart.” 

There wasn’t much else you could do but whisper reassurances and try your best to comfort him. It wasn’t enough, you knew. Because you weren’t Leo. And Will just wanted his dad. 

—

It had been a long week for everyone. The emotional weight that you were carrying was taking its toll, and you’d never been more desperate for a good night's sleep before in your life. Alexia could see it on your face, the physical and mental exhaustion, and she insisted you get in bed when just after Will had gone to sleep.

Much too exhausted to really put up much of an argument, you showered quickly and threw on some pajamas. Alexia brushed your hair for you, something she knew always made you sleepy, before tucking you into bed and flicking the light off. You frowned at that, grabbing her hand when she tried to rise from the bed. 

“Where are you going?” 

“The living room is a mess and I was going to finish the laundry–”

“Alexia, you’re tired too. Please just come to bed. I won’t be able to fall asleep without you.” 

A small smile flickered across her face, and she realized how utterly powerless she was to say no to you when you asked something of her, especially something this needy. Alexia knew better than anyone how hard it was for you to be vulnerable. She’d promised herself long ago that she’d be here if you needed her, especially when you asked for her. 

So, she nodded, kissing you softly on the lips. “Okay, mi amor. If that is what you need.”

Alexia made quick work of locking the front door, running through her nighttime routine and checking to make sure Will was soundly asleep before crawling into bed next to you. Her body molded into the back of yours, arms holding you tight against her. 

“You stole my favorite pajama shirt.” She whispered into your ear, hand sliding up the front of the stolen shirt to rest across your abdomen. 

You turned in her hold, pressing your face into her neck and adjusting until you were comfortable. “It smells like you.” 

Alexia grinned into the top of your head at your sleepy voice, settling back into the pillows. “You can keep it, then.”

She was sure she looked like a lovesick fool, holding you tightly against your chest, smiling hugely in the darkness, but she didn’t care. She really loved that she got to love you. 

—

Alexia wasn’t a very heavy sleeper, which normally was a point of annoyance for her. However, when she woke up just a few hours after falling asleep, she wasn’t upset. 

It was a quiet whimper coming from down the hall that pulled her awake, and it only took her a minute of confusion before she realized the source. 

Will. 

You’d been leaving both his bedroom door and your bedroom door open in an attempt to convince him to come wake you if he needed you. Will was independent, insisting on doing everything himself because he was a ‘big boy,’ but you never wanted him to feel deterred from seeking you out if he needed comfort. 

Alexia sat up, rubbing at her eyes and listening just to make sure she’d heard correctly. When a small sob reached her ears, she slipped out of bed, making sure not to disturb you.

If Will needed you, she wouldn’t hesitate to get you. But if this was something she could help with without waking you, she’d prefer that. You were so tired. More than that, she didn’t want you to feel like Will was just your responsibility. She’d made it clear she was staying, that she was here for both of you, and she intended to prove that to you through her actions. 

So, she padded down the hall towards Will’s room, her heart dropping when she found him sitting up, the covers scrunched up at the bottom of his bed, his face wet with tears. He was hugging one of his dinosaurs close to his chest, and Alexia could tell even from the doorway that he was trembling. 

“Hey cariño.” She whispered, stepping into the room. “Are you okay?” 

It was a stupid question because it was very clear that Will was not okay, but Alexia asked anyway, frowning sympathetically when the small boy shook his head back and forth rapidly in response. 

“Did you have a bad dream?” Alexia wondered, walking over to Will’s bed and sitting on the edge of it. He didn’t reach for her, so she didn’t reach for him, though she left her hand on the bed right in front of him, palm up in case he wanted to grab it. 

This time, Will nodded, using the soft fur of his dinosaur to wipe the tears off his cheek. 

“A really bad one,” Will mumbled, his voice shaky and thick with tears. 

Alexia was quiet for a moment, not quite sure what she should do. Should she get you? Should she try to talk it through with him? She hadn’t realized until this moment how much taking care of a kid came down to the smallest decisions. 

“Would you like a hug?” She offered finally, opening her arms. To her surprise, Will quickly slid out from under his covers and scrambled into her lap, wrapping his arms tightly around her neck. She held him carefully, rubbing her hand up and down his back as he sniffled. “Okay. Okay, we’re okay. You are safe, cariño.” 

Miraculously, Will seemed to be calming down, and it wasn’t much longer before he loosened his grip on her and rested his head against her chest. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” 

“You… you and my Tia went away. Like my Dad. I couldn’t find you guys and I was all alone again.” Will whispered, his voice quiet as if speaking any louder would make the nightmare come true. 

“That sounds really scary, Will.” Alexia said carefully, feeling Will nod into her. “You aren’t alone. Me and your Tia are not going anywhere. We’re here to take care of you, and we aren’t going to leave you alone, ever.” 

It was the best she could come up with. She marvelled at how you always seemed to know what to say to Will, not having realized how hard that seemingly simple task could be. The midfielder was unsure if her words had helped at all especially when Will was quiet for a few long moments. 

“Promise?” He whispered finally, his hand twisting into the fabric of her shirt. 

Alexia bit her lip, fighting a wave of tears that threatened to fall. A 5 year old should never have to feel this way, should never have to be this scared that he was going to be left behind. 

“I promise.” Alexia replied, leaving a kiss on the top of Will’s brown waves. 

“Alexia?” Will asked. 

Alexia fought back a smile, this time, because it was the first time Will had addressed her by her name. She hummed in response, nodding for him to ask his question. 

“Can I sleep in your bed? With you and my Tia?” His voice was quiet, tentative, and he seemed almost resigned, as if he was sure the answer would be no. 

But Alexia couldn’t say no, not when Will was sitting in front of her with tears still wet on his face. So much was changing for him, and he was doing a remarkable job adjusting to it all. Still, if he needed some extra comfort… who was Alexia to deny that? Especially when she knew you’d say yes without a second thought. 

“Of course you can. Your Tia is still sleeping and she’s very tired so we have to be quiet.” 

Will nodded fervently, tucking his dinosaur under one arm and reaching up for Alexia’s hand with his other. Together, they walked back down the hall, feet padding softly on wood. 

Alexia lifted Will into her arms as they walked through the door, in the darkness misjudging the distance she had between her and the foot of the bed. Her toe collided with it painfully, and she yelped quietly, freezing to make sure you didn’t stir.

“Shh.” Will said, brows furrowed as his small hand moved to cover Alexia’s mouth. She fought back a smile, nodding and placing Will onto the bed. He moved slowly over into the middle of the bed, letting Alexia tuck the covers up around him before climbing in herself. 

She’d expected Will to snuggle up against you, but her heart melted when she felt him scooch closer to her, resting his head on her arm. 

“Goodnight Alexia.” He whispered, so quiet Alexia had to strain to hear him. 

“Goodnight cariño.” Alexia whispered back, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. 

She was wide awake even as Will’s breaths began to even out, and the boy fell asleep, but she didn’t mind. 

She’d stay up for a while. Just in case he needed anything. 

—

not the biggest fan of this but the next chapter is already planned and i'm very excited about it

thanks for reading ❤️

[biteyoubiteme]

late shift

fem!reader x bangchan

synopsis: you and your virgin coworker Chan share a bed. 

warnings:🔞 !!! virgin!chan, whiny!chan, oral (m!rec), orgasm denial (m!rec), size kink if you squint, dom(ish) reader, praise, no protection, creampie, one bed trope, prob forgot some

wc: 3.77k

an: my first request! Thank you for submitting hope i did it justice lol also i lost the request i dont know where it went ;-; but i think i got everything you asked for

I used the line about ‘inviting someone back for ramen at your place’ synonymously with the term 'netflix and chill' I'm pretty sure that's the way the line is used in Korea. Correct me if I'm wrong lol. Anyways feedback appreciated :)) not proof read sorry! [m.list] 

You've been at your current job for a few years and every other Friday you and your coworkers go out for a drink or dinner depending on how heavy the workload had been the previous weeks. This Friday was one of those times, only most of your coworkers had taken a work trip to help secure a big account. The office was basically empty around the end of the day now, only your office light and the office across the hall was on. Chan, the owner of the space in front of yours, could be seen typing on his computer through the glass, one of the few who had opted out of the trip to be able to leave earlier. Only both of you hadn't been leaving the office at reasonable times even if it had been promised. your days were still just as long only now you were picking up the other's work while they were gone. it was a shit deal but neither of you would complain, too shy to bring it up to your boss who did in fact keep his word on letting himself out early. 

rubbing at your eyes you power off your laptop after looking at the time. if you didn't leave now to catch a streetcar you would have to walk home and you were too drained to do that. you start to pack up your things and across the way, you can see Chan doing the same, probably set to move when you did. he was always nice enough to wait every night until you got off to walk you to the stop sign to wait for your ride before he went across the street to catch a streetcar headed in the opposite direction. even without your other coworkers, he was always smiling at you from across the way waving as you left to head home. 

As you slung your bag over your shoulder and headed to turn out the lights Chan was at the doorway giving a shy smile. “I'm a few seconds from collapsing on the floor and sleeping in my office,” 

“me too,” you flip off the lights, “and I'm starving I don't even think I have anything in my fridge,” 

Chan keeps pace with you as you make your way out of the building, reaching ahead of you to press the call elevator button “We could always keep the tradition going even if it's just the two of us, find a place for dinner?” 

“I don't know, not a lot of places are open at this hour and I want to eat on the couch and pass out,” you say hopping in after Chan when the elevator arrives. The space is small enough to have your elbows touching. Chan pressed the button for the lobby, “We could eat ramen at your place?” 

You are shocked to hear his suggestion and you assume he is too seeing at how he is bright red and stuttering, “No not like that- well kinda but just the food part- wait- I-,” he cuts himself off giving a flustered sigh, “I'm sorry i- we do not have to i'll just go home I'm sorry,” chan's rubbing at the back of his neck, ears red, eyes scrunched to avoid looking at anything at all because it would kill him to see your negative reaction. hell, it will kill him hearing you say no and push him away even if it was an innocent suggestion in the first place. he really didn't mean it that way he only wanted to hang out because he liked you and now he's gone and ruined that with a suggestion he didn't even fully intend to say in that way. 

Your giggle fills the silent elevator and you bump your shoulder against his arm, “It's okay Channie, it's definitely a perfect idea, ramen sounds so good, anything warm will send me straight to bed,” You find it cute how flustered he gets around the topic of sex. drinks out with coworkers leading to his confession months ago that he was inexperienced in bed, the flush on his cheeks as he begged the others not to ask him dirty questions. 

please you're joking Chan there is no way you haven't had sex yet! your defense of him that night only makes him like you more, who cares anyway? We should not be sharing bedroom talk with our coworkers. To know you are all kiss and tellers is an explanation enough as to why none of you get any when we go to bars. The conversation moved past Chan's Confession to laughs about how their coworkers had in fact picked up ladies from bars before. Chan had been thankful but the next morning when he remembered sharing he was a virgin in front of his crush was mortifying but you never brought it up again. 

you didn't really care that Chan was a virgin, finding out didn't make you like him any less than you already did. even if Chan had been asking to go back to your place to have sex you don’t think you would have turned him down. for as long as you worked in the office across from him you couldn't help but think about asking him out just the two of you but you had witnessed Chan turn someone down before in the breakroom. The way he smiled so sweetly as he said he didn't really like to date coworkers made you try and push the image of the two of you together away. you were friends and inviting him over was something friends did. 

“There is a convenience store across from my apartment, works out great,” you smile once you leave the elevator, “it won't be too late for you to head back home later?” 

“no northbound street cars run another lap, unlike the southbound ones I should make the last one,” the two of you ride to your place with polite small talk, and when you get off you cross the street to the store to pick up your dinner. 

It's the first time Chan has been in your small place, the one you haven't upgraded since you were in college because you didn't see the need for any more room but with Chan in the living room taking up most of the couch you wish you had. Both of you seated watching TV had your legs pressed together from the hip to the knee, his body heat overwhelmingly comfortable as you ate dinner. 

Neither of you realized you were beginning to fade, eyelids heavy as you tried to blink away sleep. When you realized you had dozed off, the TV was playing a movie that neither of you had put on, your head resting on Chan as he slumped over the armrest of the couch. you pick up your phone to check the time, the movement waking Chan up, “oh no it's so late,” you yawn pulling yourself up, “The last streetcar left an hour ago,” 

“shit,” Chan yawns, stretching out still in his button-up shirt, he had taken off his work coat when he came in but this was nothing he could sleep in. 

“it's okay you can stay but I have nothing for you to wear,” 

“I can walk it's okay-“

“You will not be walking all the way home. it's fine you can sleep in my bed I don't even think the couch is long enough for me to stretch out all the way,” 

“Then where will you sleep?” 

“the floor, it's okay,” you say waving him away to check to make sure your room is clean of clothes on the floor. you wave him over as he shakes his head, “No you're not sleeping on the floor in your own home, we can share I don't mind, or I'll Sleep on the floor,” 

“Fine, we can share,” You're too tired to argue, too tired to think about the fact that Chan is standing in the doorway as you turn around and pull out your oversized sleepshirt, shedding your work top and bra off. 

Chan is suddenly frozen fully awake watching you. He can only see your bare back turned to him, the image of your fingers unhooking your bra burned into his mind before you tug on the oversized shirt. but you're not done, the button of your work pants is undone, and at only sound in the room is the ripple of your zipper before you tug your pants down leaving you in your underwear. he cannot see them but he can see the outline through your white shirt, the black fabric hugging your ass as you pull the covers back to climb into the bed. “turn off the lights when you're ready,” your eyes already closed as you snuggle into the sheets. but Chan can't move. He is sure if you opened your eyes it would be very obvious that he was thinking about you lying in bed next to him almost naked. only two articles of fabric separating your completely naked form from him. 

he swallows the lump in his throat unbuttoning his work shirt, when it's gone he starts on his pants even taking them off to leave him in his underwear is enough to make him sigh. the pressure on his cock releasing just a bit but not enough to make him go soft. He's cursing at his body for making it so obvious he wants you. You're so natural at this, not even caring that he's climbing in bed next to you and he's a complete mess as he edges in on the far side of the bed trying not to make any contact at all as he turns the lamp off. 

in the dark, he tries to tell himself to calm down but it doesn't work, not when he can smell you on the sheets, when all he can think about is that if you touched yourself you would have to do it in this bed. 

You're not even thinking about anything besides falling asleep. You can hear Chan trying to get comfortable next to you, tossing and turning, the dip in the bed from his weight making you slide closer to him. you're barely touching him but he's gone still next to you, without thinking you roll your hips to try and pull away not wanting to make him uncomfortable but it does the opposite because you slide closer to him your ass pressed against his very prominent erection. 

if it wasn't for Chan's uneven breaths you would have thought he was asleep with how still and quiet he is. you wonder if you should pull away and ignore him, act like nothing was wrong, that you did not feel anything at all, and that you were asleep already and it was an accident. but the heat of him makes you wet, just the idea of rubbing back against him sends you into overdrive. you move your hips again to hear the soft whine Chan lets out, he's so close to your ear that it makes the sound amplified. 

Chan reaches out, his palm wrapping around your hip and you brush against him again. His whine is louder, a weak, “I'm Sorry,” mixed in with the sound. Chan's hips bump forward looking for more friction but you can tell he's trying to hold himself back with how hard he's holding you. “it's okay,” you whisper grinding back into his strained thrusts. 

“ill stop, I swear,” but he can't bring himself to listen to anything he says, the feel of your ass against him is so much better than when he ruts against his pillow at home. You're so warm, so firm, and he can't help himself. Chan's movements are jerky as he presses himself against you, the thin material of his underwear making him groan in annoyance. 

“You don't have to stop,” you mutter, encouraging him with each roll of your hips against him. “if you want I can use my hands,” 

The thought alone would have made Chan cum if he hadn't pulled himself away from you, rolling on his back and whining from denying himself. 

you sit up next to him, watching him squeeze his eyes shut, hair a mess on his forehead before he runs his hands through it grabbing the strands and pulling at them. He's panting hard, the rise and fall of his chest catching your attention. You've never seen Chan shirtless, you didn't know that underneath the suit he wears he is completely ripped. Your mouth waters with the need to lick him up and down, to kiss him, if he let you suck him off it would be a very good night. “If you don't want me to use my hands I could use my mouth,” Chan whines again, a weak thrust of his hips into the air at your words. you lean down until your lips are next to his ear, “If you don't want my mouth I could let you use me in other ways,” he's fully humping the air now, fists made in the sheets. 

“I don't- I've never…” he shakes his head finally opening his eyes. pupils were blown looking for you to understand, “I want to be good for you but I don't know how,” 

“I can show you,” your lips brushing his as you whisper it, “only if you want me to,” 

“I do!” he nods, “I want you, I've wanted you so fucking bad for too long,” 

you kiss him and he could shatter at the seams from finally getting to taste you. Chan has made out with people before, he knows he's a good kisser, what he's worried about is everything else. but with your lips on him, he's a little less worried. breaking the kiss you move to straddle his abdomen, kissing down his jaw as he throws his head back. He can't control his thrusts anymore, searching for friction where you're purposefully not giving him. “patience Channie,” you say between nips at his neck, his whines in response but you shake your head. “I know you're needy but it will feel better with foreplay,” 

he nods as you work down his collarbones, reaching his nipples as you slide down his body. you lick down his chest and abs, circling his navel and following a line down to his waistband. The cold air hits the line you've made down him and Chan moans at the feeling, goosebumps rising over his arms. He wants to touch you, peel your shirt away, and finally see more than just your bare back. almost as if you can read his thoughts you sit up placing your ass on his thighs before pulling off your shirt. nipples pebbling from the air, Chan's hands fisting the sheets so hard his knuckles are bloodless. 

“If you're good next time I'll let you lick me the way I did for you,” Chan whines almost painfully before you lean down moving back until you are face to face with his clothed bulge. already a dark spot on the fabric from his precum. “Let me know if you're about to cum okay?” 

Chan nods head lifting to watch as you lean forward and kiss over where he's straining in his underwear. his hips try to chase your mouth when you pull away and you tisk at him, “Patience Chan I shouldn't have to tell you twice,” 

“I can't help it,” he moans, your fingers hooked into the elastic around his waist pulling the fabric down his legs, his cock heavily slapping against his stomach. every vein prominent, ruddy tip swollen and begging to be kissed. you gather the spit in your mouth before letting it drop down against his length. If you are going to fit it in you're going to have to take the time to stretch yourself out so it won't hurt. For now, you wrap your hand around him, giving him a few shallow pumps, his moans of approval the only sound in the room. you let Chan thrust into your hand when he doesn't like your pace but you completely pull away when he says, “I'm going to cum im-“ he whines so loud at missing his release, your lips on his thigh as you use your hands to hold his hips back from coming up off the mattress. 

“no please, please I want to cum, please,” he begs, trying to rut in the air but you shake your head. 

“You have to wait pretty boy, you can hold out a little more right?” but he doesn't get to answer when you lick up his shaft, tongue swirling around his tip. 

Chan has never been so noisy in his life, he's never wanted, no needed, to cum so bad. when you fully take him into your mouth he sees spots in his vision, the coiling in his pelvis intensifying. he doesn't want to tell you but like you're sucking the words right out of him he whimpers, “cumming im-,” but it's ripped away from him again and he's on the verge of tears. he won't be able to last any longer not like this, when every brush of your fingers on him makes him twitch. he lets go of the death grips he has on the sheets pushing himself up be rolls the two of you over. 

you're shocked as he pins you down, his face pressed into your neck whimpers tickling your skin. “please, can I cum inside you?” his cock is rubbing against your covered center, and he can feel that the fabric is wet with your arousal, knows he must be doing something right when your soft moans come every time he rubs against your clit. 

you nod knowing you won't be able to say no to him, not when you want him this bad. “take my panties off,” Chan listened, not waiting a moment to follow your order. when they are gone he's stopped by the sight of you. laid out for him glistening, you reach down using two of your fingers to make a v pushing open more of yourself so he can see. Chan watches as you drag your fingers through your wetness, and whines as he watches you dip a finger into your entrance.“you listen so well Channie if you keep listening I'll let you taste me,” 

chans weak in the knees at your words, he wants nothing more than to please you, to hear you say nice things to him over and over, to finally let him sink into your warm heat. “please,” it's so quiet you almost miss it. 

“Grab your cock in your hand,” he does as you say, “then lean over me and run the length of you in my wetness kinda like you were doing before okay?” he nods and when he plants his hand next to your head he looks down to watch what he's doing. both of you moaning as he rubs against your clit, he could just stop here, he knows just this will make him cum without a second thought but you won't let him. “drag your tip down until it catches if you miss ill help you, okay?” 

but Chan doesn't need your help, the head of his cock prodding your entrance, his hips jerking knowing he's so close to feeling all of you, “you're doing so good,” you hum brushing your fingers through his hair, “slowly push in I won't be able to take it all unless you go slow,” 

Chan pushes in following your instructions. he's hardly in when he's shaking, you feel so fucking good, warm, and just right. he will never be able to imagine taking you while he's alone again, his hand won't cut it anymore, not after this. 

his moan is guttural as he fully seats himself inside you, your hips meeting his. chans so deep you can swear he's touching your womb, your hands wrap around his shoulders, both of you catching your breath, “you have to move slow, warm me up a little before you can trust harder,” Chan nods but he doesn't know if he will be able to last long enough to make himself go any faster. Your warm walls feel so fucking good he could cum without moving at all, but he slowly pulls out before sinking back in. You're so wet it's easy to find a steady pace. 

“Just like that Channie,” you moan and Chan whines at the praise, he wants to be perfect for you, as perfect as you've been for him and he can't control himself, his hips sinking hitting you deeper than you felt before. 

you moan loudly as he brushes your gummy stop making you see stars, “your hand, use your hand on my clit,” you whimper and when Chan's fingers find the perfect spot he feels you clench around him. he gives a shocked moan not realizing you could feel any better, his orgasm so close he presses his fingers harder against you, your shocked gasp music to his ears. you didn't think you would cum seeing as it was his first time but you're right on the cusp when you hear his pants, “I'm going to cum, please, I need to cum, let me cum in you,” he begs eyes watching where the two of you connect. 

“you've been so good to me,” your words making his stomach flex, balls tightening, and you can feel him twitch inside you, “cum for me Channie,” 

he cries out as he finishes, hot ropes of cum spilling inside you making you follow right after him. The fluttering of your cunt makes him whine sinking in deeper letting his body weight fall on you as he pumps more cum deep inside you. 

never has he cum so hard or this much, never did he think it would feel this amazing. 

Chans is lying on top of you, both of you sweaty and panting. your fingers comb his hair back from his forehead, scratching his scalp until he's humming. you can feel his softening cock inside you, his hips twitching every once in a while. Neither of you moves, only enjoying the feel of each other. “Did you mean what you said?” Chan asks and you scrunch your brows. “what?” 

“about next time? that there would be a next time.” 

you giggle pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Yes if you're good there will be a next time,” but you can feel Chan twitch inside you already growing hard again. 

[reiderwriter]

🫂 Transference 🫂

Pairing: Spencer Reid x virgin!Fem Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Summary: He saves your life, and he keeps saving it every day, but Spencer won't let you love him until you finally beg him to. Is transference really that much of an issue?

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Mentions of Case details - reader is the unsub victim, mentions of rape and attempted rape, gunshot, death, kidnapping, imprisonment, parental neglect, abandonment, loss of virginity (positive), semi-public sex, bathroom sex, fingering, penetrative sex (p in v), missionary, praise kink (good girl), moaning kink (?), safe sex, slight cum play/ oral, aftercare.

A/N: I wrote a virgin reader fic for kinktober that people loved a lot (thank you all!), and I had a lot of requests for something similar, so please - enjoy!

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You'd met him at the library, as if the world wanted you to forever associate the comfort you found in between the pages of a worn book with the man that tried to end your life. At first, you'd thought it a coincidence, then he'd flashed a smile at you, and you'd believed it to be fate, drawn in by the charm he wore as a disguise. 

Your first date was sweet, flowers and dinner. Your second date was sweeter, and they kept on that way. Sugar dropped into your ears until you were floating on cloud nine, right as he turned his charm off. 

“Really?” He started one day, his tone accusing from the get-go. 

“What?” 

“You're really going to eye fuck that man in front of me?” His voice was loud enough to catch notice in the small café you'd joined him in for the morning, and all the life drained out of your face. 

“I'm not- what?”

“No, forget it,” he chuffed, taking another sip of his drink and turning away from you. 

You noticed it more and more from then on, how he would accuse you of small things like looking at other men, like you had the choice to ignore them when they were shop clerks, bus drivers and just fucking people living their lives. 

Your friends were even weirded out when you joked with them about it, telling them all about your silly boyfriend who ripped a poster off your wall because it had some actor or singer or something on it. It wasn't even that important to you, but as you laughed, you were greeted with silence, with sideways glances and concerning questions. 

It was all starting to crumble, and there was nothing you could do to stop it but cling on. 

The next thing was his pushiness. You'd been up front with him at the beginning of the relationship that you were a virgin, something that he was more than happy about. 

He'd said it was because he was a man of God, and he understood your commitment, which confused you as you weren't a virgin for religious reasons. But you brushed it off as everything else about him was so… gentlemanly? 

Until he started pushing his hands up your thighs when he kissed you. He tried multiple times to push his fingers into your underwear as you tried to pull back, each time apologizing immediately when you displayed more panicked displeasure. 

“I'm sorry, something must have… The devil got to me for a second there, Y/N, but I won't let him win.” He kissed the top of your head, and he walked you to your door before giving you another chaste kiss and leaving. 

They found the first body the next morning.

She was young, maybe 16 or 17. Beaten, raped, mutilated, and asphyxiated. They said he'd kept raping her body long after she'd taken her last breath. It took them two weeks to notify her parents because of the way he'd left her. 

You'd watched the news report the same week with your boyfriend, shocked and horrified at the news and cuddling closer to him for comfort. 

Each step you came closer to him, each time you allowed him to touch you, he took it as a sign of his ownership, his claim on you. Not a single other person could get in between him and his prize. Each time you rejected him, he killed another girl. 

By body five, they'd called in the BAU. 

“Did you hear they're bringing in the FBI to solve that Cathy Renaud case? It's all over the news. Apparently, the team is super special.” 

You'd brought up the words while cooking him breakfast. He didn't live with you, but any good girlfriend would feed their man, so he woke you up every day on his way to work to let you prepare him something. 

His whole attention was on his phone, though, as he nodded through your conversation, grunting and moaning at each word. 

It was only when you brought him his plate of pancakes that you realized that he was just as interested in the subject as you were. Because he was staring at the photos of the girl he mutilated the night before. 

You didn't want to think about everything that happened after that. After the plate fell to the floor and cracked, splintering into your foot and causing you your first injury in a long line. 

You didn't want to think about the things he showed you, the way he touched you, or at least tried to. You heaved and wretched and emptied your stomach every single time you thought about the restraints on your wrists, how he'd tried to rape you but couldn't bring himself to do it because you weren't young enough anymore. You weren't dead enough.  

Instead, every time you thought back to that week, you found yourself back at the end. You replayed the bullet lodging into his brain as a comfort, which told you more than you needed to know about your mental state. It was Spencer Reid who'd shot him. He'd been quick enough to realize that the man would never have been talked down, and he'd fired the shot as a mercy to you. He may have killed your boyfriend, putting him down like he was a sick animal, but you were the one put out of your misery. 

He didn't stop to watch the body hit the floor before falling to your side, the other agents clearing the room and checking the corpse. He'd helped you to your feet, drawn an arm around your waist and pushed your head into his chest so you didn't have to see the carnage on the way out, didn't have to deal with the camera flashes as the press scrambled for pictures of the monster's willing victim. 

“One step at a time, this isn't your fault. Just stick with me,” he said, moving you from the house to a waiting van as you clasped his vest desperately, needing the lifeline he'd thrown you. 

“Ma'am, ma'am. I'm a paramedic, I won't hurt you, I just need to take your vitals, make sure you're okay.” 

The voice was vague and in the distance, and you were so sure it wasn't directed at you that you simply let yourself wrap around the man who'd saved you when you got to the ambulance. Nothing else was around but his chest, his hand on your back, your legs wrapped around him as they finally gave out. 

“Ma'am… Please, you're injured-” 

“Y/N,” he spoke finally, and you grabbed him tighter, nails digging into the skin at his neck. 

“You're Y/N, right? We've been looking for you for a long time. I'm not going anywhere, I won't let anyone hurt you.” 

The words were enough to reassure you, pulling back slightly as the paramedics began working on you, but not enough for you to embrace their touch. You clambered away from the paramedic the moment you saw he was a man, close in build and coloring to the corpse in the building behind you. 

You screamed, you cried, you pounded at the doors as Spencer held to you him, letting the paramedics sedate you, rocking you to sleep on the step of the emergency vehicle.

He was by your bedside every time you woke up, too. It was funny seeing him there when you still didn't know his name. Your parents hadn't visited, too ashamed to be associated with the entire thing to even check in on you. 

He had himself assigned your emergency contact after six days of your parents not showing up. In all that time, he'd sat patiently by your side as you wailed and raged and went numb, and the cycle repeated itself in perpetuity. 

He was there, too, with a bag of clothes and a fresh start waiting for you when you were ready to be discharged. 

His team had since moved on to another criminal of the week, putting the lives lost behind them as they traipsed through more cases and corpses and killers. He was still there, though. Somehow. 

You were old enough to be able to discharge yourself from a hospital, old enough to not need a guardian to take care of you. Spencer stayed anyway, and you didn't bother asking why. 

“I don't want to leave the hospital,” you said, climbing back into the bed you'd forced yourself into for the last week. The same bed where the nurse had ran your rape kit even after you'd told her he'd never touched you like that, after you'd explained and denied and shouted to high hell that no-one had touched you like that and she sure as hell wasn't going to be the first. 

Spencer had put a stop to the traumatic experience when he'd returned with your coffee, always picking up something for you when he went out. 

The nurse had gripped and moaned and murmured an apology, and you knew you'd not been an easy patient, but you couldn't bring yourself to feel bad about it. 

That didn't mean you wanted to leave yet, though. 

“I can't leave, I have nowhere to live.”

“Y/N, you can't stay here forever.”

“Spencer, I can't go home. My apartment is a crime scene, I almost died there, and there are reporters posted there 247 waiting for me to come back. They think I'm evil, they-” 

“They think you're a victim,” he said calmly but firmly, cutting you off before you could spiral again. “Which you are. And you'll be a victim forever if you don't get out of that hospital bed and start moving on.” 

He dumped a bag on your bed, a bag you recognised as one of your own overnight bags from your apartment. He looked at you again, the question in his silence. 

Are you going to keep being his victim?

You huffed as you got out of your bed, throwing off the covers and standing in front of him. He didn't budge. 

“Well?” You asked, looking at him as he stood still, not moving even an inch. 

“Well, what?” He replied, eyebrows knitting. 

Instead of replying, you rolled your eyes and reached behind you to the ties in your hospital gown, opening it until you could pull it off your body before pulling out the clothes he'd left in the bag. 

You didn't glance at him again until you were fully naked, readying your underwear so you could pull it on. When you turned back to him, his gaze knocked the wind out of you. 

You'd stopped feeling like a woman the minute he'd carried out of that room. You were a child, a fragile doll, a specimen to be studied. For some of the nurses, you were an infection they could catch. 

Spencer Reid, against his better judgment, was looking at you like you were a woman. Like you were the object of his every desire. 

“S-Spencer…” you said suddenly feeling the shame and embarrassment of being naked suddenly in front of another person. You pulled the sweatshirt he'd packed you over your torso, covering all of your intimate areas as you stammered out your apology. 

“I- shit, I'm sorry-”

“I'll wait - I’ll wait outside. If you need anything you can… you can do whatever.” He said, dragging his eyes off of your body and letting them fall anywhere that you weren't. His eyes darted from the floor to the wall, to the air next to your head and finally to the door where he took himself out. 

You dressed in a hurry and followed him. 

“Spencer? Spencer, I'm ready,” you said, running down the hall to him and grabbing his arm, holding it for support and comfort, but mostly just to be close. 

Since waking up from that first sedation of many in those first few days, you hadn't been more than a few hours without having him hold you. 

His team had sent many warning looks watching you wrapped around him like a scared child, hiding behind him like a small, shaking dog. You hadn't seen a problem in it, truly clinging to him like a lifeline. 

After whatever the hell had just happened in your hospital room, though? Now you felt each solid ridge of him. You hadn't felt like a woman, sure  but you equally hadn't acknowledged Spencer as a man until then. A very attractive man. 

The stubble on his jaw only made it sharper. His gentle, curving eyes, cut at the corners by the start of laugh lines, his mouth straight and… and kissable. For the first time in months, definitely for the first time since you'd met your monster, maybe even for the first time ever, desire heated the depths of your stomach. 

Your breath hitched, and you held him tighter as he led you out of the ward and ushered you into your new life. 

“We're not going to your apartment. Your landlord released you from the lease for…obvious reasons after some persuading. Your parents-” 

“My parents?” You asked in disgusting, halting in the hall. For the first time since you'd left the room, he had to turn and look you in the eyes. He'd done his best to dampen the desire, but some part of you still recognised it, even as your logical brain fought to be heard. 

“Your parents agreed to fund three months in a new apartment. After which time, you will have a job and some stability, so you'll be able to pay for it yourself.”

You tried to argue and tried to talk back, but your tongue was thick. 

A new apartment. Living alone, being alone, for any amount of time, felt daunting. 

But Spencer took one more step towards the door and then another, and you had no choice but to walk with him, hand slipping down and grasping his like it was your lifeline. 

The drive to whatever new apartment your parents had leased for you was silent, and the storms in your head grew until they'd taken up so much space they erupted forth, darkening the actual skies. A crash of thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance just as he pulled into the building. Luckily for you, there was underground parking, so you didn't even need to contemplate letting the lightning hit you. 

There was one space left, and Spencer pulled his car in, flipping the engine off and getting out without another word. 

He led you up the stairs, then he led you to your floor, then he led you to your door and handed you the keys. 

You felt cold as you opened the doors, knowing you were about to confront items of boxes that had watched you be burned, cut, slapped, beaten.

There were no boxes behind the door. Everything had, to your shock, been unboxed and staged already. 

You recognised magnets on the fridge, stuffed animals on the bed when you made your way to your bedroom. Your toiletries were neatly tidied into your medicine cabinet, hell, even your bookshelves had your own dog-eared copies of books well past their prime. 

You had every comfort and joy without having to push yourself through the pain of thinking about where these items had last been kept. 

There were new things too. The couch was definitely second-hand, but it wasn't the one you'd brought at Goodwill the week after your college graduation. That one was stained red, no doubt, somewhere in a tip. There was bedding and sheets and blankets and plates and forks and knives - a whole household of items that someone had chosen. 

You turned back to Spencer and cried. You buried your face in his chest and wrapped yourself around him again as he held you. 

And then, realizing he'd been the one to orchestrate this, if not the one who had arranged everything himself, you pushed up on the balls of your feet, and you kissed him. 

For the few seconds it lasted, it was brilliance. The pressure on your lips after a second had your heart singing as he kissed you back, your hands balling into his shirt as you stepped closer and closer, needing to be wrapped around him, buried in safety and warmth. 

He pulled back and stepped out of your reach too quickly, the back of his hand reaching up to his mouth as if checking that it was still there, that he'd actually just been kissing you back. 

“Y/N, you don't…we can't do that.” 

“Do what?” You said, creeping forward, needing to feel him beside you again. 

“You're not… you don't feel about me the way you think you feel about me,” he said, pushing your hair behind your ear as you wrapped your arms around his waist again. 

“How do I feel?” 

“Grateful. Y/N, this is gratitude. I saved you, and so you think you are in love with me. It's called transference, and you will deeply, deeply regret this one day.” 

The urgency in his tone had you flinching, even if he was trying to talk to you as softly as possible. For a moment, you'd done as he'd asked and forgotten you were a victim. It was apparently something he himself would not forget anytime soon.

You stood around awkwardly for another minute or two. 

“What…what now?” You asked, avoiding the kiss and whatever lay in that direction.

“I'll walk you through the emergency contact numbers. The apartment building is pretty old, so there's a wall phone in the kitchen, but there are some modern amenities, too. The laundry room is on the first floor, next to the porters office. I'm in apartment 23 on the second floor, and-” 

“What?” Your entire body buzzed, hearing him speak, and you almost forgot to breathe, rushing to stand straight again.

“I… I live on the floor below,” he said, almost cautiously now that you'd thrown yourself at him. “I thought you might enjoy the company.”

He gave you a weak smile and you wanted to kiss him all over again, to press your lips again and again into the soft flesh of his skin, his lips, his nose, his cheeks, his neck, his chest. 

You wanted him to hold you. You stood by the sofa and let your grip on a cushion tighten to stop from throwing yourself at him again. One rejection was enough for the day. 

Not that you stopped in the weeks to come. 

Spencer had himself relegated to office work for the first month as you rode out the waves of your grief, sticking by his side for comfort.

Your friends came and went, but they wore the stench of ‘I told you so’ and ‘I saw that coming,’ and you suffocated on it after so long. 

Every day after he returned home, you arrived at him door and threw yourself into his open arms, sitting with him for hours. Most days, you read together, ignoring that the man flipped pages three times as fast as you did. Some nights, you watched shows or movies, making your way through three companions worth of “New Who” in a week.

Each time you came, he took care of your food, ordering or cooking simple pasta dishes for you. 

He told you about the time his coworker had taught him how to make the perfect pasta, berating him for putting oil in his pasta water, and damn near drawing his weapon while he made sure he salted it. 

You laughed together and ate together, and you forgot together. 

Your life was back to normal when you got your first job interview. It's nothing spectacular, but it was enough that it would pay the bills to the apartment whose lease is a ticking bomb counting down to 0. It was a normal office, where you would be doing normal work that you had absolutely done before. 

The interview was normal, the female employee that meets you first reassuring you that the company is safe, their employees vetted and supported. 

And the company makes feminine hygiene products anyway, so they don't attract too many men, or at least none like the monster you'd known. 

All in all, the interview went well. 

It went well all the way until you reached the bus stop. You felt eyes on you, watching your movements, but you couldn't see anyone else focusing on you particularly.

You felt the stares on the bus, and the stares when you got off the bus two stops early. You felt the stares walking around the block three times to throw whatever was following you around off your track. You felt the stares as you sat outside Spencer's apartment until 6:45pm, when he came home and found you there. Your interview had been at 1pm.

“Y/N, what's wrong?” He said, immediately holding you and guiding you into the apartment. 

Your anxiety and fear had settled into self-loathing and disappointment. You let him hold you quietly, rejecting food and conversation. 

You sat quietly with him on his sofa as he held a book in one hand, stroking your hair with another as you laid on his chest. 

The emotions of the day were overwhelming, consuming the part of your brain that had started being happy again for the first time. You grew angry at the sadness for seeping back in, and in an act of rebellion, you pushed back up and kissed Spencer once more. 

His brain was slower to react this time, even if his body wasn't. 

You straddled his hips as your lips joined his, melting together in a hot embrace. He dropped his book quickly, hand resting on your hip as the one that had been stroking your hair angled your jaw up so he could set the pace. 

All your emotions were swept away in a wave of desire as you slowly rubbed against him, butt shifting as you clumsily followed your arousal past your worldly knowledge. 

You couldn't even think about what was next because your tongue was clashing with Spencer's, and your brain was short circuiting. 

The second you let out your first whimper of pleasure, he pushed you away and stood up, crossing the room to put distance between you, just as he had a month beforr. 

“Y/N, you had a bad day, but this isn't… This isn't how you should make yourself feel better.” 

“Spencer-” 

“I told you about transference before, Y/N, you need to listen to me. I'm not… I'm not the one for you.” His voice shook as he ran his hands through his hair in stress, body tense in a way that informed you he was holding himself back. 

“Transference. Transference…” You sat upright on his couch and let all the logic rush back into your brain at once. 

“Y/N?” He asked, voice shaking as he watched you zone out of the conversation, almost afraid that he'd damaged you again. 

“Is there… Is there something wrong with transference?” You asked, voice impossibly calm as you still stared straight forward. 

He moved towards you again and knelt at the floor in front of you, clutching your hands in his. 

“Y/N, you don't really want me like that, you don't, you can't-”

“Love you?” You asked, your voice finally breaking, eyes finally meeting his.

It was as if you knocked the wind out of him. He sat there completely dumbstruck. 

“It might not be love, okay, I'll admit that. But you're… you're strong and smart, and you take care of me. And you're attractive, and you make me happy, which is something I didn't think I'd ever be again-” 

“Y/N, something happened to you today, and you threw yourself at me. You threw yourself at me when you moved into your apartment. You felt stressed, and you reacted, Y/N. You don't love me.”

You sat calmly listening to his words again, your body still aching for his touch, your heart still pounding in your chest. 

“Okay. Okay. So if I do…this when I'm not feeling vulnerable, then what? Then you'll believe me?” 

“Y/N…” he sighed in defeat, hand again raking through his hair. 

You grabbed your things and stood up off the couch, bending to press another kiss to his lips before you parted. 

He was shocked silent, but that didn't stop him from chasing your lips as you rose, rising to his knees and then his feet as you walked away from him.

“I'll see you tomorrow, Spencer. Get some sleep,” you said, letting yourself out or the apartment and carrying yourself, heavy and dejected, upstairs. 

If Spencer was anticipating seeing you again the next morning, he wasn't anticipating seeing you in his office.

“Spencer,” you called out as you walked into the bullpen, clipping your visitors badge into place again, making sure it wasn't crooked.

Immediately, he stood from his desk and rose to meet you, ignoring the looks from his coworkers as his hands landed on your arms, immediately checking on you. 

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” He whispered, checking for tears, or injuries, or something to show him your motive for seeking him out. 

You just smiled at him, brushing a hair behind your ear when you saw him hesitate making that same gesture. 

“I was summoned. They need my statement to corroborate your weapon discharge paperwork, and Agent Hotchner called earlier.” 

His hands dropped as he breathed a steady sigh of relief, trying to make his reaction smaller than he knew it was. He was afraid something had happened to you again, and he was so caught up in his relief, that he didn't notice you moving closer until your lips were on his cheek and you were waving him off as you ascended the stairs to Hotch's office with your escort. 

“Spencer,” Morgan's voice called from behind him, and he turned hesitantly. 

“What was that?” 

He felt the eyes on him, and he pushed all thoughts of you to the side in place of total rationality. 

“I explained transference to her but… she doesn't seem to - she doesn't care.” 

“Spencer the last time I saw that girl, she was practically the walking dead. She just smiled.” Morgan said, shaking his head. But Spencer was watching you, and not his friend, and really, he wasn't even listening.

“Spencer? Spencer?” Morgan said again, rising to get in the man's face some more until he finally looked at him again. 

“She thinks she's in love with me.” 

“How do you know she isn't?” 

You kept working on him, little by little, day by day, until Spencer's field work started again. 

A little part of you was sad that he wouldn't always be around every day anymore. But you'd got that job and got over yourself as you started going out more. You made friends at your office, and you went out and laughed and joked with old college roommates. You felt like a human being again, and to no one's surprise, you still wanted Spencer Reid. 

He left every Monday on a case, and by the time Wednesday rolled around, you missed him. Going out to drinks with some coworkers after clocking off certainly didn't sate your appetite for him. 

“Spencer,” you said, breathily into the phone when he picked up, throwing yourself onto your bed. 

“Y/N, what happened? Is everything alright? Do you need me to come back?”

“No, Spencer, I just-” you hiccupped and giggled before continuing. “I just missed you so much.” 

The silence on the line was suddenly so funny to you, and you giggled again. Feeling hot, you stripped down to your underwear and started talking again. 

“I miss cuddling up to you and crawling all over you. You're really soft, you know?” You sighed, hands trailing up and down your stomach lightly. 

“Y/N,” he said in a warning tone. 

“I miss your face. I'm switching to video call,” you announced and fumbled with your phone. 

“No, Y/N, wait-” he said, but pulling the phone away from his ears, he realized his protests were too late to matter as he took in your half-naked form. 

Though your face took up the majority of the view on the camera, he could see the soft trim of your lace bra poking into the camera, and the generous push of cleavage your angle facilitated to boot. 

Checking around him for people looking, he tucked himself into a corner and scowled back at you. 

“Y/N, this isn't a game. Turn the call off and go to bed.” 

“But I miss you,” you whined. 

“Y/N,” he hissed, eyes falling to your hands where you'd begun massaging your heavy breasts. 

“When are you coming home?” You asked, whining again like a petulant child as the alcohol flushed through your system, bringing all of your desires to the forefront. 

“Soon,” he said, not trusting himself to say more than a word. 

“Good. Because I miss you. Spencer, I- I think I want to have sex with you.” 

His eyes shut as he tried to remain calm even as your words rang in his ears from 1000 miles away.

“We'll talk soon, Y/N. Good night,” he closed, finally hanging up and covering his face in his hands. He made his way quickly to his motel room, threw his phone down on his bed, and ignored as best he could his throbbing cock in his pants and the three pictures you'd sent him since he hung up. 

He didn't resist for long. 

Three nights later, you found yourself at a bar, living life to the fullest. You'd taken back to society like a swan to water, and you weren't letting the stern words of Spencer Reid keep you down. Knocking back another shot, you smiled and cheered with your friends until you felt the eyes on you again. It was different this time, though, hotter, and closer. You turned to look at the door and saw Spencer Reid and the other people who'd saved your life walking to a booth. It was Spencer's eyes on you. 

You definitely did not believe in a higher power - how could you, after all - but you did believe that this was fate. 

You blew him a kiss as he watched you walk back to your table with another cocktail in hand, letting a man who'd been trying to flirt with you earlier follow you to your friends. 

When you went for your next drink, you found him at your side in a heartbeat. 

“I'm not checking up on you,” he said, even though he was. “I'm ordering a drink.” 

“Two drinks,” you said, shooting him a flirty smile as you pressed yourself against him again, chest to chest. 

“You're ordering two drinks, Spencer,” you whispered into his ears as his head dropped down to within an inch of your own. The air felt changed, but you refused to move to close the gap. You'd put in the work the last few times. You needed Spencer to be the one to take the chance this time. 

He ordered your drinks, and still you didn't move apart, huddled together as if you were whispering conspiracies to one another. 

When your drink was firmly in your hand, he grabbed your wrist and led you to a dark corner of the bar. You sipped your drink quickly, managing two swigs before he took it and placed both drinks down - right beside Penelope Garcia - and dragged you out into the hall. 

The bathrooms were empty when he pushed you inside, and your heart throbbed as his hands pushed you into a stall, lifted your legs to wrap around him, and then his lips finally crashed into yours. 

Transference or whatever else it was supposed to be, you didn't give one shit in that moment as his tongue coaxed your lips apart.

His hands didn't stay in place for long as he dragged them up and down your body, exploring every part he'd memorized from the pictures. Every curve or inch he'd previously held tenderly, gently, he now raked over with the hunger of arousal, pushing your short skirt up until it was past your hips and his fingers could sink into you instead. 

You were soaked before he even had one digit inside you, his thumb rubbing roughly against your clit as you turned to jelly in his hands. 

You'd masturbated before, sure, you were a grown woman. But the feeling of someone else's hands, someone else's hest, the knowledge that someone else desired you so badly that they'd drag you into a bar bathroom just to sate their lust? That was new, and it was exciting. 

His lips covered yours as your legs shook, silencing every moan, every whimper with his tongue. It was wild, messy, your tongues clashing wildly and messily as your hips rocked violently, trying to reach that high, but also trying to make this last past his fingers. 

It wasn't to be though as you shuddered around his three digits, your orgasm ripping through you silently, leaving you wide-eyed and wide mouthed. 

“We're done,” he said, gently kissing your cheek as be stood you up, letting you stretch out the soreness in your muscles. 

“For now?” 

“Forever, Y/N. This was a mistake.”

Your heart hit the ground, and he stomped on it, but the anger filling your gut pushed up and out before he could completely bow out. 

“No,” you ground out through gritted teeth. 

“Y/N, you aren't in love with me. You feel grateful that I saved you, you feel attracted to me because I'm older and you think I can protect you, and a little part of it is that you've always been attracted to men who are dangerous. You're not in love with me, so-” 

“You sound like him.”

Shocked, he paused, and his grip on your hips tightened until his nails were biting into your skin. 

“What?” 

“You're telling me how to feel, you're telling me what to do. You sound like him.” 

“Y/N, that is unfair-” 

“Unfair is denying that I'd know how I'm fucking feeling to let you wallow in self sacrifice, Spencer. Unfair is playing the martyr when we can both see that you want this as fucking badly as I do.” 

You didn't give him a second longer to react, but grabbed him by the wrist and, making sure your skirt was once again in place, pulled him back out of the bathroom and into the club. 

Stopping by Penelope, you put his drink in his hand and grabbed yours, downing it quickly. He followed your actions, taking a sip until you were done and slamming your drink back on the table. 

Then you kept him moving, pushing doors open, hailing a cab, and climbing in with him hot on your heels.

You kept your grip on him tight until you'd marched him to his apartment. Releasing him, you flattened your back against his door, letting him slowly unlock the door as you spoke to him again finally.

“Do it, Spencer. Be my first.” 

It was like he was a different man walking over that threshold. His hand were on your face, his tongue again fighting yours as you stumbled back into the apartment, crashing into the wall, then the coffee table, and then the couch. 

You cursed in anger hitting his closed bedroom door and pushed him away to open it yourself, but his arms wrapped around you from the back and he sucked bruises against your neck as his hands grabbed your breasts and squeezed them.

His cock was rigid in his pants, and your body ached for the unknown, the soon to come pleasure that he was to deliver. 

He pushed you down onto the bed quickly, and you rolled yourself over, pulling your own dress off as quickly as possible. 

“That's my job,” he moaned, meeting your lips again as his hands fell to your underwear once again. 

“You have a long to-do list, Spencer, I'm just helping,” you smirked as he kissed you again, your hands shakily working down each button of his shirt as you acted to tear it off of him. 

“We have all night,” he replied, fingers once again rubbing at your bundle of nerves, hips pushing up and into his hands. 

“No, Spencer. No, we don't. I need you now.” 

His mouth covered yours again as you finally, finally got his shirt off, letting him throw it to the floor as you started working on his belt. Your legs spread as he inched closer, sitting between your thighs comfortably as he waited with bated breath for you to finally touch his cock.  

You knew what dicks looked like, you knew what they were supposed to feel like, but you never realised you'd want to touch one so fucking badly until his sprung from his pants. 

He took your hand and spit in it before you wrapped your fingers around him and felt the heat of his cock pulsing against you. 

He was big, long more than girthy, and you wondered how thousands of years of women had managed to survive coupling if this was the weapon meant to numb them into horny submission. 

One stroke, and you were a mess, his fingers hooking into you as you flicked your wrist up and down. 

You watched his precum rise and swiped it up in one finger, tasting it as he groaned and started thrusting up, fucking your hand as he scissored his fingers inside of you. 

He stretched you out, readying you for his thick cock, and you gladly sat there, letting him use you and ready you all at once. 

When you were ready, he wrapped his arms around you again, lifting you onto the bed properly and laying you down softly in the sheets. Kneeling to roll on the condom he'd grabbed from his bedside table, you watched in curiosity as you tried to memorize every movement, every second of him sinking into you. 

The tears in your eyes were emotion just as much as pain, your heart hammering in your ears as he whispered praise into your ear, dropping confessions like bombs. 

“You're taking me so well, Y/N, that's good…” he moaned, pushing in one inch. 

“That's it, Y/N, just a little more. I love you, you can do it,” he said, sinking in two more. 

“You feel so good, Y/N, made just for me,” he said as he finally hit your limit. 

You knew the stretch wasn't the end, and he rested there for a second, letting you get used to him before you lost patience with him. 

“Spencer just, just push through,” you grit out, and he did, snapping his hips up just that.inch or two more and sending that spark of pain through you. 

In an instant, his lips were on yours, his fingers on your clit, flooding your nerves with pleasure as all you could think of was the pain. 

But when the pain faded, there was still him, and his cock neatly sheathed inside of you. 

His hips moved languidly at first, his entire body weight pushing down on you, lazily twisting and writhing as of this were just one of your cuddles on the couch. 

You whimpered, and he moved faster, and you learnt quickly that your noises and sighs to him were what his praise was to you - motivation.

You moaned, and he picked up his pace, moving faster as you whimpered a lustful ‘yes’ into his ear. 

“Good girl, good girl, Y/N, that's it. Good girl,” he repeated, unable to say more as you whimpered and cried under him, speech lost as he split you in half with his dick.

You grew louder, and his cock buried itself deeper, your moans dragged on longer and he picked up speed. 

He whispered that you were his perfect little slut, and you jolted in his arms, cumming on his cock and screaming his name. 

He kept pumping into you, careful to make sure the condom stayed in place as he finally bottomed out and let pleasure roll through him again.

Coming down from his high, your tongue pushed into his mouth, and you rolled him over, sitting yp on his dick as he watched. 

You rose off his cock, letting him stare in wonder as your own arousal dripped off of your skin, his cock coated in arousal, and spit from his fingers and, yes, a little bit of blood. 

You crawled back and peeled off the condom, tying It quickly and discarding it before you tasted his cum quickly. 

It was just a soft lick, but it had him declaring his love for you again, and you decided that there were very few things you wouldn't do to hear those words. 

As delightful as your lips felt, though, he quickly bundled you up and forced you to the bathroom, turning on the taps in the bath and placing you on the toilet before leaving. 

Even now, after everything, he was still taking care of you. Maybe especially now. 

You finished, and he came back. More stolen kisses and moans and a bath that turned into more later, and you found yourself bundled into his spare clothes and wrapped in his arms on his couch again. 

He clicked play on another episode of Doctor Who (you'd finally reached Donna, and he was excitedly introducing you to the new character), and you finally looked up at him again.

“I love you,” you said again, loudly this time, with no fear. 

Though his training told him the response he should give, Spencer just looked down at you again and gave in to his heart. 

“I love you, too.” 

You fell asleep quickly after that, head resting over his heart, the sound of the steady beats lulling you to sleep. 

[cloudwisp]

𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 · (𝐡𝐢𝐬) 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤

contents: fluff. early twenties + first year of marriage. found family. gojo’s entire day shifts when you forget to wear your wedding ring. 900 wc.

“Eehh—?” You can faintly hear the noise Satoru let out coming from your shared bedroom, and you know he’d approach you about the situation sooner or later. You remain seated in bated breath as he stands with rounded shoulders before your dresser, cerulean hues staring down at your jewelry ceramic tray. And unmistakably there sits a wedding band with a large gemstone glinting at him under the warmth of the golden rays filtering through the curtains. He had a strong feeling there was a reason for his off-morning and this must’ve been it.

A noticeable pout rests on his lower lip and his hands are shoved in the pockets of his sorcerer’s uniform as he slowly climbs down the stairs. You glance over your shoulder from the couch with Tsumiki seated with her legs folded under her while you finish off her braid, and he looks like a kicked puppy the closer he treads. With a small pat on the young girl’s head, you send her to find her brother in his bedroom for breakfast.

“Oh good morning, baby. Why the long face, hm?” You shift your body toward him with an unperturbed smile, but Satoru sulks where he settles on the couch beside you in a manspread. “I’m almost certain I didn’t forget your morning kisses this time, even gave you more than plenty to last the day. Might I add the extra five or was it fifteen minutes of cuddling you so insisted on.” You tease with a gentle poke to his cheek, but nothing seems to be budging him and you think something terrible has happened. Though your husband’s jutted pout is adorable enough to maintain a lighthearted mood.

“No, but you did forget something.” Satoru sighs with a small shake of his head, letting on a weight of seriousness that makes you breathe out a curious ‘oh?’ at what that could be. With a tilt of your head, you watch his movements as he reveals the wedding ring he proposed to you with from the depths of his pocket. He twirls the silver band between his fingers and relief washes over you because you genuinely thought you had done something grave. “Found it on your jewelry dish. Don’t forget to wear it, princess.”

“Ah, so that's what’s bothering you.” You soften as your head leans against him with your arm looping around his, your left hand coming up so he can slip it back onto your finger. He does so with delicate care, and you offer him an explanation of taking it off before showering while he went for a run because you were afraid it'd fall down into the drain and forgot to put it back on. With having two pre-teenagers taken under both your wings, it’s easy to neglect these small details but you have noted to be more mindful next time.

Satoru hums with a chaste kiss on your forehead, intertwining your fingers together in a sweet hold as his thumb brushes against your skin. “Just don’t want anyone else to think you’re up for grabs. It’s not me who gets all the attention when we’re out together, you know.” He can perfectly recall those encounters where not only random strangers would make advances on you, but also cute grannies wanting to set you up with their grandson. He’s gone for one minute to collect your favorite snacks and you’re not how he left you when he returns.

“Oh Satoru, you still haven’t gotten over that yet? It happened two or three times and I think they were just being polite.” Satoru knew you would say that but allows you to have your own beliefs as you reach over to playfully pinch his cheek with a soft laugh. But you suppose it’s endearing seeing him jealous over something that happened years ago when he has nothing to worry about. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Hmm, that’s an easy one. Never let me go?” He answers with a quickness that causes your heart to flutter, and sure enough he’s reverting back to being your lovable and charming husband. “Besides, having a beautiful and hot wife means that I have to protect and take care of what’s mine.” And he means more than fending off idiots trying to get your number, but also from being potentially targeted by cursed users because you’re someone of great importance to the Gojo clan leader.

“There’s a much better way to handle that. I could just let everyone know I’m happily married to the best guy ever.” Satoru doesn’t hide the smug look overtaking his features before nuzzling his face into your neck and pressing light kisses on your pulse point.

“Heh, flattery won’t get you off the hook.” He drags you impossibly close with his large hand wrapped around your hip. His onslaught of kisses continues up along your face and you both fall back on the cushions of the couch as he revels in your giggles. After a moment, Satoru meets your gaze again and sweeps strands of hair away to see more of you. “And I love seeing that ring on your finger. Reminds me of something real special between us and that you chose to be with me.”

“I meant what I said earlier, by the way.” You gently take his hand cradling your face and place it over your chest with an earnest squeeze. “You are the best husband I could ever ask for. Love you, baby.” Satoru leans down to capture your lips sweetly at first, then chases after its softness for little pecks and murmurs how much he loves you back. And from the bottom of the steps of the staircase are the Fushiguro siblings sharing a knowing glance before entering the room to help with breakfast.

꒰ note ᰔ satoru always wears his wedding band on his finger and around his neck when he’s fighting against cursed spirits. ꒱

[ladymercysletters]

Synopsis: Reader has just been given the all clear by the maesters to be with her husband again. There is however the issue that her husband has taken to leaving their chambers before she wakes in the morning, and only coming to bed well after sleep has taken her. Fed up with only ever seeing her husband briefly at dinner, where he is still deep in conversation with one of his bannermen or pouring over papers, y/n takes matters into her own hands.

Word Count: 3,656

Rating: 18 + NSFW (no minors!!)

A/N: I seem to have written a 1980's Mills and Boon. Though I do like the idea of Cregan as Heathcliff!

_____________________________

“Well My Lady” said the maester, putting his instruments carefully back into his bag, “I would say you are fully healed.” He congratulated, looking up at you as you sat on the edge of the bed.

“So I can? We can?” you asked eagerly and unabashed. You had been without your husband for so long and these last few weeks of healing from your latest childbirth had been torture.

“uh, yes. My Lady.” Said the maester bashfully, head immediately dipping down to hide the reddening of his face. You thanked the maester once more before he left, calling in your maids to run you a bath and dress you. Now that it was safe for you to enjoy your husband once more, that is exactly what you intended to do. For almost two moons now you had been parted from Cregan, or at least that is what it felt like. Since you had given birth, though you still shared a bed, you found that he would be already gone by the time you awoke – and in the evening when you would stay up late into the night reading to keep yourself awake for when he did return, he would still manage to only return to bed once you had been taken by sleep. The only reason you knew he did still sleep beside you, was because you could smell him on your sheets and would sometimes still feel his warmth in the space beside you.

You sat in the milky bath as your maids paraded various dresses in front of you. Mabel held up a pale violet crushed velvet dress; it was loose and skimmed over your curves, allowing your skin to breath whilst still catching the candlelight. You had almost decided on that when Florence pulled out one of your old favourites, it was a dress you had brought with you when you first moved to Winterfell after marrying Cregan, a deep blue layered dress with a creamy silk underskirt. You had had it made especially as you had heard of how cold the North was; golden bronze fur lined the low neckline before raising higher at the back. Your eyes lit up as you remembered when you first wore it. That was the dress to seduce your husband.

Mabel and Florence dried and dressed you, plaiting strands of your hair to curl around the crown of your head like a maiden and lacing the front of the dress as tight as it would go. Unfortunately, given your many children, the front would not do up as tightly as it once did. Mabel had suggested a modesty layer for your chest, surely to keep out the cold in such a warm dress. Florence just elbowed her and gave her a look as though she was missing the point.

--x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x--

Cregan yawned as he sat at his table, eyes drifting as he tried to stay awake. He had awoken early as he had every day since the birth of his latest child, dressing quietly and leaving before you woke. Every morning he’d stay and watch you a little: his wife, tucked up in the thick, soft furs of their bed, before tearing himself away. The maesters had come to him shortly after the birth. They had expressed deep concern over the struggle of this birth how weak you were. Given that you had fallen pregnant with this one only three moons after the birth of your second child your body had not been given a lot of time to recover, which they felt contributed to the long labour and your subsequent bed rest.

The sight of you weak in bed; skin drained of much blood and not even able to hold your babe as you had your others. Cregan had berated himself no end at your state, blaming himself and his recklessness that you almost died. So, he did the only thing he could do: he distanced himself from you, leaving your chambers before you awoke and returning only when he is sure you must have fallen asleep.

--x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x--

The first place you looked for your husband, you knew you’d find him, was the great hall. He was surrounded by his men at the high table, no doubt meeting to discuss what more they have left to de before winter comes. You glide into the room as the Lady of Winterfell ought to; nodding to the guards as they opened the doors before taking a slow turn about the room. One of your ladies in waiting came with you, arm in arm you walked slowly about the room, breathing deeply to allow your bust to spill a little over the soft fur neckline of your gown. Some of the ladies of court were scattered about the room: some sitting by the large open fire grate with their embroidery. Greeting them all you sat with them, moving your hair subtly over one shoulder to make the best of your exposed neckline.

Your eyes flickered over to the top of the room, where you see Cregan’s already on you. His brow is down as he looks up through his lashes; eyes raking over your body and nostrils flaring at the sight. Giving him a small smile you hold eye contact as you trail a light hand down your neck, watching as he huffs a breath and turns back towards Lord Burley. Slightly frustrated at his dismissal you stood again, this time walking towards Cregan and his seat. He watched appreciatively though subtly. He could see that dress you had on was one you had worn when you were first made man and wife, the bust was tighter than it had once been and Cregan steadied his breathing once more as he thought of your breasts, full of milk for his babes and practically pouring out of your dress.

“Husband” you greeted lowly as not to disturb him. You picked up the jug to fill his cup. Ever the stoic Northman he paid little mind to you as you greeted him, so you went a step further: leaning over him jut a bit too much you steadied yourself on his thick thigh as you leaned into him to pour his drink. Your warm scent filled his nostrils and his eyes fluttered closed, only opening to see the soft pure skin of your chest so close to his face that all he would have to do would be to lean a little closer to taste you.

Pulling back with a sigh you placed the jug down and drew your hand slowly up his thigh, just grazing his inside seem that wasn’t covered by leather, before retiring from the room. If he wanted to pretend he didn’t see you then you would do what you did best: be a nuisance to him.

--x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x--

You took some time before finding him again, taking tea with your ladies in one of the viewing towers whilst you plotted your next move.

The training yard was where you found him that afternoon. The winter had faded into a slightly less harsh winter, so you and your ladies were safe from having to wrap yourselves up too much as you sat on the viewing platforms. Cregan and his men had clearly been in battle for some time; even with the milder weather you could still see the steam rising from their bodies. You watched as Cregan swung his sword over his head, shoulders rolling as he brought it down onto the shield of the man cowering beneath him. You bit your lip as you watched his muscles move under his shirt. Thick fingers gripped the hilt of his family sword when several men approached at him at once. There was no denying your husband was a warrior: his broad back twisted as he fought from all sides, body turning with ease in his leathers and sweat dripping from his brow as grunts filled the arena. Moving over to where he had left a cloth you took a seat nearer the edge of the grounds.

Giving him your best sultry look you breathed deeply, making the most of your heaving bosom as he stopped for a break, his chest heaving as he strode towards you.

“Wife.” He growled, almost annoyed at seeing you again. You shot him a wry smile as you stood and took a step towards him. Picking the cloth from his hand you stepped up to him and swiped it over his brow, watching as his eyes closed. You leaned forward just a bit too close to be innocent as you trailed the cloth over the back of his neck for him. A low groan rumbled from Cregans throat as you massaged the back of his neck. “It is good to see you out and about my dearest.” He murmured, head tilted back at your touch to watch you down the bridge of his nose.

“Husband. The maester visited this morning.” You let your words drift. He knew what that meant.

“My darling” Cregan growled, cupping your waist “Are you sure?” you nodded, grinning widely at his unhidden enthusiasm. The breath he released almost contained steam itself as he looked you up and down. Your lips quivered to kiss him, but you restrained yourself; simply smiling once more as you left him to his training, his knights calling him back to practice.

--x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x--

You didn’t see each other again until your evening meal. Dinner was quiet. You ate with a few of his bannermen and their families: yourself and Cregan sitting at the head of the table. Though the grip of his hands around your waist had indicated his need for you earlier, you were disappointed to find your conversation at dinner lacking. Instead, he has been distracted by the lord to his left causing you to sit in a haff by his side. Bored, and ready to tease him some more you placed your hand on his thigh, just low enough to not garner any notice.

Your hand rested over the thick material of his trousers before pressing firmer into the flesh of his leg, slowly making your way up his thigh - the only reason you knew he noticed your hand was the subtle twitch in his leg when you pressed closer to the centre of them. Your gentle hand brushed at the thick length buried deep beneath his layers when his quickly slipped below the tabletop to stop you.

His head turned sharply to you, eyes glaring a warning. You had never been a brat before and he certainly wasn’t going to allow it now, in front of everyone. Your hand flexed under his grip as his attention was drawn from you again. Your fingers moved subtly to stroke him – his length thickening in his breeches as your fingertips managed to surround the head. His thighs snapped shut at the stimulation, breathing deeply to avoid making a sound.

Dinner could not end soon enough, Cregan thought as your hand finally retracted from him. His prayers weren’t answered though as, just as the meat was taken away, small plates of sweet treats were brought out whilst drinks were further poured.

Dates shipped up from Dorne were your favourites; split open and filled with honey and chopped nuts they were one of the few sweet things you had craved through your pregnancy. You sat sweetly and eyed him as you ate; slowly biting into the fruit and licking the sweet nectar dripping from it from your lips. Cregan only looked up when he heard a faint ‘oops’ fall from your mouth, only to see you swiping honey from your cleavage, failing miserably as the sticky mess just spread further.

Cregan’s eyes glued to where your finger swiped - watching with thickening breath as your pink tongue wrapped around your finger and sucked. His thick fingers flexed on his thighs as he fought his urge to pull you into his lap and bury his face in your full cleavage to assist you. The shine of the honey distracted him when Lord Tully approached his table to congratulate your new arrival. It was only at the sound of his title leaving your lips that Cregan snapped out of the spell you cast over him and looked up, flushed.

When the last of the trays was finally taken away the Lord of Winterfell announced that the day had been long and everyone should rest, ready for a longer day tomorrow. He only hoped that his subjects did not notice the rigidness of his voice, or the clenching in his jaw as he leaned over the table.

No sooner had you entered your rooms than he was upon you.

“You think you can torment me like that wife?” he growled into your ear, pressing you against your dressing table. “You tease me. All day. In front of my men. And you don’t think I will do something about it?” he pawed at your dress, ripping open your bodice and pulling at the strings holding the rest of your gown together. You were left in just your stays and shift: back pressed against Cregan’s chest as he held you in front of your mirror. His hand held your neck and turned your face to him so he could kiss you, swiping his lips from yours up to your ear. “Watch yourself” he whispered.

The hand that wasn’t wrapped around your throat trailed down your body, over your thin undergarments where his hand bunched up the light fabric moving up your inner thigh - eyes watching you quiver in his embrace. Two thick fingers slid to part your slick folds, his thumb stroking gently over your exposed clit. He continued the slow movements, holding you in place as the pressure barely increased. Only when he could feel you dripping over his fingers did he slip the first one inside you, soon followed by the second when he heard broken moans pour from your throat.

“There’s a good girl” He growled into your ear. Despite the teasing and constant, unrelenting, movements over your little swollen bud the first thick breech of his fingers turned your legs to jelly. Having been without any touch of your husband for so long the rough texture of his palms on your heated flesh and the firm consistent push of his fingers led you to scream into the air – begging your husband for release.

“Please.” You gasped. “Husband!” you begged for gods knows what. Cregan’s lopsided smirk into your fragrant hair was enough to tip you over. The promise in the dark blown pupils of his eyes forcing your first high in months.

Your body went limp against his front, his strong arms coming around your body to lay you on the furs spread out in front of the fire. The thick pelts moulded into the curves of your naked skin and if the buzz from your first high hadn’t made you dizzy enough, seeing the broad frame of your husband staring down at you as he stripped himself of his clothes made you feel as if you would pass out.

Cregan lowered himself down to you, pulling your frame the small way up to his to kiss you properly: the rough stubble that had grown on his face grounded your mind, bringing you back into the moment to feel his body over yours. His kisses were as firm as his fingers pressing into your back, lips trailing down your neck to mark you, inhaling your scent whilst small - deep blooms appear over the swell of your breast. Cregan continued to worship his wife - over your stays and moving the remainder of your clothes out of the way as he did so. His kisses never ceased, beard rubbing deliciously over your newly expose skin when he settled his body between your thighs.

“Now. Wife.” Cregan’s breath puffed out against your sensitive flesh. “The maesters said you were healed?” you whimpered a yes. “Fully?”

“Yes husband” your high tensed voices spoke out.

“Well then…” Though you knew it was coming the high gasping moan that left your lips still did so in surprise. Cregan’s broad tongue swiped through your folds, bathing his tongue in your wetness. His eyes rolled to the back of his skull as he drank you in for the first time in almost half a year. Hands still gripping both your sides they slid down to brace your shaking legs over his shoulders.

He ate you like a man tasting food for the first time, curved tongue pushing as far as it could go before his lips moved to focus on your still sensitive clit. He sucked gently as his tongue continued to play – mimicking the actions of his fingers earlier. The consistent stimulation was driving you insane; legs shaking in Cregan’s strong hands you sought stability by running your fingers through his long dark hair, gripping a handful at the base making him groan into you.

He re-doubled his efforts when he heard your heavy breath and mewls; nose pressing into your pubic bone and tongue lapping generously over you. Your thighs shook and tensed – your high rolling over you in waves. The rush of your flavour on Cregan’s tongue had him groaning into you, lapping you clean in big strokes as your breath softened and you went limp in him arms once more.

“Don’t think you can rest yet my love.” He growled, pressing soft butterfly kisses up your thigh and hipbone as he rose above you. “You think after all the torment you put me through today, you’re only going to come twice?”

Cregan rolled you over and pulled you back up against his front. Your head lolled on his muscled shoulder as you caught your breath, looking up at him through your lashes to see the strong jaw of your husband. His large warm hands smoothed over your rumpled smallclothes; soothing your heartbeat as you relaxed back into him, only to feel his fingers flex into the small openings of your stays and rip them in two from your body.

Discarding the remains of your clothes, Cregan spread your legs further over the haunch of his thighs – pulling you back to settle your slick folds over his cock. Rutting his hips lightly he pushed his hard length through your folds, slicking it in your juices and brushing against your swollen bud before moving just slightly to impale you on his full length.

The shock of the sudden intrusion pushed a shrill puff of air from your lips; the stretch of his girth so welcome. Holding your hips down against him as he pushed up into you, his thrusts strong and firm as his hold. His hips snapped up into you at a steady, fast pace – your hands grasping out to steady yourself as your breath never fully steadied.

Falling forward you finally gained enough strength to start pushing back on him, desperate to get him deeper into you if that was at all possible. Cregan’s broad back folded over you, caging you in as he went to town; hand coming down in front of you to find your bud as he felt you spasm and clench around him. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he flipped you over, propping your legs over his shoulder and pushing back into you in one smooth movement.

His thick length was always a stretch in any position, but the friction brought about by your legs flung over his shoulders was something else entirely. The sparks shooting up your spine with each thrust made you keen and grope at the soft furs beneath you. Cregan watched like a wolf above you. Mouth hung open slightly as he panted, his gaze dragged down your body; from your hair splayed out over the grey black fur beneath you, over your soft breasts bouncing with his thrusts, down to where you connected. He stared at where you connected, groaning as he watched his length plunge in and out of you, your lower abdomen bulging slightly with each movement.

He leaned forward then, face to face with you in a position that just allowed him to brush that spongey spot inside you. Sliding his hands from your thighs, up your arms, he gripped your wrists in one hand and held them above your head, pressing you further into the furs as your legs hooked over his thick hips. The both of you clung to one another as he rutted into you, your hips angling to ride him from below as you both hurtled towards your ends.

Your high came first, Cregan peppering kisses down your next and biting into the juncture of your shoulder whilst you clenched and fluttered around him. He came crashing after you; groaning into your ear and holding his hips steadfastly into yours as he pumped ribbon after ribbon of cum into you, balls drawing up as they drained.

Whilst you came down from your high you felt the weight of your husband slowly drop onto you as he melted into the touch of your fingers rolling up and down his spine. After a moments reprieve Cregan pulled himself away, settling down at your side and pulling the throw at the end of your bed off and over the both of you. You both relaxed into each other, watching the glow of the fire whilst you felt your husband’s presence next to you for the first time in months.

“Never leave me for that long again.” You mumbled, bringing his knuckles to your lips, pressing a reverent kiss to them.

“Never” he murmured. Pressing a kiss to the crown of your head in response.

[thef1diary]

💭 on my mind: I can’t stop thinking about using Charles as a sleep aid (or more like his dick) like just being unable to fall asleep and he wakes up because you’re moving around and he just knows what you need. Just some soft sleepy sex 🥵

Use Me | C. Leclerc

absolutely loved this idea omg I had sm fun with this.

warnings: 18+ smut, very poetic descriptions of sex ngl, unprotected sex, riding, just soft sleepy smut as requested

wc: 660

masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

You lie in bed, tossing and turning, the weight of the day still heavy upon your shoulders, refusing to slip into the comforting embrace of sleep. Your mind racing, thoughts swirling like a storm. But amidst the chaos, you glance at Charles who is still blissfully asleep. One idea persists as you look at him, growing stronger with each passing moment.

His silhouette is barely visible in the dim moonlight filtering through the curtains. He sleeps peacefully, undisturbed by the turmoil raging within you. You hesitate, unsure if you should disturb his slumber, but after tossing and turning a couple more times, the decision is made for you. He moves closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and tucking his head in the crook of your neck.

“Can’t sleep, ma belle?” He mutters, his voice deep, lined with sleep while his eyes flutter open for a moment, drowsy and confused.

His voice only adds on to the growing need between your legs, and you press your thighs together in a failed attempt to relieve it.

You shake your head, “no, Charles. Please?” You turn towards him, facing him while your hand runs down his bare chest, feeling every ridge of muscle until you’re stopped by the hem of his boxers. He knows without words what you need, what you crave from him.

Without a word, he turns to lie flat on his back, taking you with him, allowing you to straddle his thighs. Your head buried into the curve of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin, already beginning to find solace in the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, before whispering the words that ignited your body with desire. “Use me.”

In the hushed stillness of the night, his touch is like a balm to your restless soul. His warmth seeps into your bones, calming the frantic thoughts that have plagued you, that have taken away your ability to fall asleep. With his caress of his fingers on your cheek, each whispered word of comfort, you feel yourself surrendering to the peace only he can offer.

The desire that sparks between you two isn’t one of passion or urgency, simply just a gentle, tender longing born from the need for connection.

Both of your clothes are quickly shed, punctuated by the sound of your sigh as you sink down on him, pressing your hands against his chest to stabilize yourself. Charles’ hands rest on your hips, urging you with light squeezes, sinful words, and breathy moans leaving his lips.

As the minutes tick by, you feel the tension slowly drain from your body, replaced by a profound sense of peace and thoughts of only him.

He thrusts his hips up a couple times, catching you by surprise, draining your energy even further when he presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing slow enticing circles.

Charles sees your eyes drooping while you struggle to keep up the pace to bring yourself over the edge. He tightens his hold on your waist, pulling you closer before rolling over on the bed to take control.

Still keeping the slow and steady pace, he deepens his thrusts, watching you grab onto the sheets above your head to ground yourself.

In the silent intimacy of the night, you find yourselves entwined in a slow, unhurried dance of bodies, feeling the sweat on your skin gather and shine in the glimmer of the moonlight trickling in.

Soon enough, both of you reach your orgasms, allowing all the tension to seep away from you as the mixed cum drips out of you and onto the sheets below.

As sleep finally claims you, it’s not just the exhaustion that lulls you into slumber, but the comforting presence of Charles pressed up behind you, a beacon of relief in your restless mind. Together you drift off into dreams, wrapped in the warm embrace of his arms.

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @jointhehunt67 @bokutos-babyowl @sya-skies @charlesleclercsonlywife @dreamingonbed @wonnou @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet

[eloriis]

OPPOSITE - charles leclerc

in which. . y/n l/n was everything charles leclerc wanted, until he didn’t — cl16 x singer! reader

notes : first post in sososososo long!! hope u guys like it and it does well 🤞🏼

and NO HATE towards alex! i ADORE her smm but i needed someone to match the description that sabrina gave in her song

type : smau ⋆ face claim : sabrina carpenter

december 16, 2019

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomez and 15,547,396 others

y/nuser it’s so romantic in paris 🤍🖤

tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc all because of you mon amour 🌙

y/nuser je t'aime ☀️

user6 THE MOON AND SUN??

francisca.cgomez BABE?? THE HAIR?? THE DRESS?? OMG IM DYING

y/nuser KIKAAAAA ILYSMMM MWAH MWAH

user1 A MAN?? OMG?? A VROOM VROOM GUY?? WOAHHHH

user2 they just became public and they’re already making me feel single 😔

user3 OH GOD WHAT?? OH GOD

user4 they’re lowkey cute 🤭🤭

user5 THE SOFT LAUNCH OF FUCKING 10 MONTHS HAS FINALLY ENDED I THANK EVERY DEITY I HAVE PRAYED TO FOR THESE PAST MONTHS 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

february 26, 2023

liked by charles_leclerc, gracieabrams and 10,375,984 others

y/nuser when in doubt, turn the piano on <3

tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc je t'aime, ma lune 🌙 ( i love u, my moon )

y/nuser je t'aime plus, mon soleil ☀️ ( i love u more, my sun )

user1 the moon and sun duo is back ☹️

user2 SHE LOOKS SO PRETTY UGH

user3 the note :(

user4 did charles write that for her?

user5 i don’t think so, i’m pretty sure that’s her handwriting

user6 the second pic made me feel so single

gracieabrams ARE WE GETTING A NEW SONG??

y/nuser IDK ARE YOU??

user7 WHAT WHAT WHAT

user8 Y/N PLS WE ALL BEG, WE’VE BEEN STARVED FOR TOO LONG

user9 if they break up, i’m going to stop believing in love.

march 14, 2023

liked by user1, user2 and 585,697 others

f1updates ferrari driver, charles leclerc caught with mystery woman who is not popstar y/n l/n!

charles and y/n have been in a relationship for almost 5 years. they made their relationship public on december 16 in 2019 after 10 months of dating. they seemed to be deeply in love with each other so what might have been the reason for charles to be caught with a different woman?

let us know your thoughts and feelings on this in the comment section below.

tagged: y/nuser, charles_leclerc

user1 what the fuck? charles what the actual fuck is wrong with you?

user2 i can’t believe the nerve of this man?? FIVE FUCKING YEARS?? down the drain just because he couldn’t keep it in his pants

user3 both charles and the girl are in the wrong because while y/n and this creature kept majority of their lives together private, they still posted about each other regularly so it’s not possible that the girl didn’t know that charles was taken

user4 the audacity of this man? his girlfriend is at the studio most likely writing a song for him and this man is out in the broad daylight cheating on her??

user5 studio?

user4 yeah, she was caught walking into a studio a while before this was posted

user5 fuck bro, that’s so sad

user6 everyday i wake up and wonder where the fuck do men get the audacity to do this shit and stay sane

user7 i’m actually speechless right now. all i can say is poor y/n, she looks so in love with him whenever they’re together and then this man pulls this shit

user8 we were about to get another song about y/ncharles :(

user9 i haven’t just lost faith in men, i’ve lost faith in love as well

march 14, 2023

ynssecretlife has removed sharleclair as a follower

ynssecretlife has unfollowed sharleclair

ynssecretlife has just posted a story! tap to view.

seen by lanthedodo, liliesareme, georgewashingmachine and 98 others

view story replies:

lanthedodo y/n/n, i’m so so so sorry. i promise u NONE of us knew about this

lanthedodo we are all always here for you ❤️

liliesareme y/n bby:( i’m coming over rn

alexisalbono i’m so sorry, lily and are the otw

view more story replies.

y/nuser has deleted 30 posts from their account.

may 25, 2023

liked by charles_leclerc, user39 and 674,694 others

alexandrasaintmleux in paris with amour ���️

tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc the star to my sun

liked by author

user1 this is very similar to the post made by y/n

user2 the nicknames. that hurts me :(

user2 the audacity of these two. ch*rles got bored of the moon so he moved onto another star. honestly fuck off dude.

user3 beautiful couple 😍 ( i giggled at this )

user4 girlie is trying wayyyy too hard to be like y/n…🤓

june 6, 2023

liked by taylorswift, lilymhe and 21,854,297 others

y/nuser i’ve kept all of you guys starved for too long now </3

from my heart to yours, ‘opposite’ is now out 💌

taylorswift i’m so proud of you bby 💗

y/nuser tyy 🤍

lilymhe sobbing, breaking down, screaming, crying, on the floor, breaking dishes

y/nuser LILY BBY 😭😭

alex_albon she’s not even joking. there’s actually broken dishes on the floor and she’s about to flood the living room with her tears

lilymhe shut up. no one asked you 🥰❤️

maxverstappen1 you did so well with this song! proud of you y/n/n 💙

y/nuser tyy so much maxie 🫶🏼🫶🏼

user1 MOTHER IS SO BACK

user2 MIGHT AS WELL SNATCH MY HEART OUT AND STAMP ON IT ATP

liked by landonorris and francisca.cgomez

user3 you did so well y/n, we are all so proud of you for being strong and loving 🤍

liked by lilymhe, francisca.cgomez, iamrebbecad, kellypiquet and 157,286 others

y/nuser thank you so so much, i love all of you so much 🫶🏼

[beanxiv]

satoru gojo who has the biggest sweet tooth ever but won't hesitate to offer you a bite of his kikufuku-- even though it's his favorite.

satoru gojo who, when you shake your head to him buying you an expensive gift, buys it for you anyways, because no amount of money will be more valuable than seeing you happy with a what he's bought you. especially when he knows its his name on the card that's being slid through the reader to purchase whatever it is you set your eyes on.

satoru gojo who readily pulls his blindfold/sunglasses off in your presence because only you quiet the overlapping, draining echoes in his head.

satoru gojo who peppers you with kisses for as long as you let him, because you deserve to feel just how much adoration he has for you.

satoru gojo who takes you out to gorgeous high-end restaurants, having the both of you dress up just as gorgeously. not to mention, throughout the night you'll hear endless compliments of how "that outfit really compliments your figure," or how, "that color makes your eyes look so pretty." and so on and so forth, satoru can't run out of compliments when you give him so much to talk about

satoru gojo who is the best at princess treatment. do not try opening your own door around him. he will do somersaults to get there before you can. you know those tiktoks of people rolling over the top of the car and dropping onto the ground to open the door for their significant other? yeah, that's satoru.

satoru gojo who surprises you with those giant, beautiful bouquets that have money and your favorite snacks in them because he loves to see your expression when he hands it to you

satoru gojo who loves to show you off. he'll send the gc with him, shoko, and suguru endless texts about how he loves his s/o so much and how he's so lucky to have them. and he sends especially petty messages sometimes about how suguru and shoko are still single while he's happily married (he'll say this before you're even engaged)

satoru gojo who used to not get flustered by anyone because-- well he's satoru gojo-- he's the one who gets people all flustered up. but when you came into his life? try as he might to talk smooth and be flirty, you turned him into a stuttering mess sometimes. he'd play it off when he got lucky, but whenever you caught him off guard? he'd blush to his ears, glancing away and all.

satoru gojo who always texts you if he's at the store to ask if you want him to pick up something for you while he's there.

satoru gojo who, if you're sick, will act like you're dying in his arms. he'll panic, rushing around to get you medicine, whatever snacks you're craving, etc. he showers you in kisses and cuddles like they'll be his last

alternatively, satoru gojo who, when he gets sick, demands attention 24/7. you're not there when he wakes up? he'll pout and be upset until he's had his fill of your cuddles. loves when you feed him while he's sick, it makes him feel so loved and taken care of.

satoru gojo who loves when you ask for his opinion. which outfit is nicer? well both of them look perfect on you, but that one brings out your skin tone. which show should you watch? what about the one where you'll love to watch together? it makes him feel so important when you ask what he prefers.

satoru gojo who kicks his feet and giggles when he gets a text from you. he's on a mission with suguru, shoving his phone in suguru's face giggling over whatever you said. the phone is so close to his face that whatever is on the screen isn't even legible at this proximity but it makes satoru skip like a little schoolgirl as he and suguru walk to wherever they've been assigned to.

satoru gojo who asks shoko for advice since she's a friend of yours. asking her questions like, "should I get them this or this?" or "do they like this or this better?"

satoru gojo who starts a book or tv series just because you recommended it to him. because when has his beautiful partner ever steered him wrong? this applies for any advice you've given him too

satoru gojo who makes you an example for megumi. "see this, megumi? your standards should be this high! look how perfect y/n is, you should find you a partner like that too!"

satoru gojo who shows you megumi's picture album of when he was younger because he loves to see the two most important people in his life bonding, even if it means embarrassing megumi.

on that note, satoru gojo who's apartment is filled with photos of you and megumi and all his friends and family, and his phone's wallpaper is a picture of you too

satoru gojo who watches old tapes of you and him in high school together a lot whenever you're on missions without him. the nostalgia makes him miss the times when everything was okay in high school, but it also makes him so grateful that he finally managed to make you his after pining for you for so long

satoru gojo who's possessive but in a boastful way, you posted a tiktok? he's the first like, comment, and save. spams your comment section saying, "THATS ACTUALLY MY S/O" and whatnot because he's absolutely obsessed with you

satoru gojo, the strongest sorcerer, who is absolutely no match for you because the moment you make eye contact with him, he just goes weak and can't say no to a single request of yours

©beanxiv — all rights reserved. copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform or by any means is not allowed.

[risuola]

TOO MUCH — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

Lately, it felt like not a second pass by without some new curse appearing somewhere in Japan and both you and Satoru had your hands full of work for few weeks, but when he comes back home, exhausted to the bone, his composure snaps and he unloads his frustration on you.

cw: angst, verbal abuse, hurt/little comfort, mentions of blood and hurt, reader is injured, mental exhaustion — 2,5k words

Too much. Too much of everything that piled up on Satoru's shoulders, weighing him down so heavily that he almost couldn't breathe. It felt like the world was on fire, curses crawling out of every shithole in Japan, most of them first or special grade, spreading nothing but death and chaos. So many people killed, so much blood and pain he had witnessed in the last few weeks, it drowned him in exhaustion and helplessness. Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive, and yet he felt so helpless in the current situation. He traveled from town to town, fighting these terrors, but the lives that had been taken away, he couldn't bring back, and he used to think that he was immune to it already. Turns out, one can never be immune enough.

You had your hands full with work as well, but you stayed in Tokyo. The situation drained your energy too, the cascading waves of sadness and sorrow made you feel like you couldn't think straight, but you pushed through. You felt so weak, but had to be strong, everyone had to be. All of your sorcerer friends were just as engaged in the fight as you were, just as tired and distressed, but the show must go on, as they say.

You and Gojo weren't officially a couple, though everyone knew you were together. You were friends, yes, the kind of friends who kiss and have sex. The kind of friends that use pet-names and fall asleep while cuddling naked. Shit, you lived together for a few months, you know everything about him and he knows just as much about you. And you were happy, sharing every moment. He always said that you bring him so much comfort, that he feels like he can be openly himself when he's with you and be accepted for it. Nothing could ever bring you more joy than the man you love feeling comfortable with you.

That being said, it wasn't the best time for your relationship slash situationship. He was more out of the house than in it, and you were just sleeping there, barely. It's been going on for a few weeks already, and it's just now it’s beginning to finally calm down. Few weeks of constant fighting for everyone involved in the jujutsu world, but it started to slow down. So you knew that Satoru would finally return home.

It's when you showered and put on your pajamas that you heard the keys twisting in the lock and the doors opening. Putting on a smile, you rushed to welcome Gojo home, but the moment you saw him, you knew he's extremely exhausted.

Satoru entered the house already annoyed by the conversation he had with Gakuganji a few moments before. That old fart had the audacity to nag him about his methods while he himself was sitting in his cave sipping green tea, not caring one bit that the world was drowning in curses and blood. He threw the keys on the shelf, kicked off his shoes and took off the blindfold, then looked at you, all clean and comfortable in your pajamas. He scoffed quietly.

He felt like his own body was falling apart, everything hurt, his head was pounding, his eyes were burning. Even though he was actively healing himself, the side effects of everything were getting to him. A few weeks of nonstop fighting, of domains, of reds, blues, and purples, and so much physical combat had left him hanging on the last thread of his composure. The usual mask of cheerful carelessness long gone.

Suddenly he wished he could enter the empty house, throw away his clothes, collapse on the bed dirty and just fall asleep, but he couldn't. You were there. And there was never a time in the past when he wouldn't be absolutely overjoyed to come home to you. Even when tired, he wanted nothing more than your arms around him. But not right now.

"Satoru, hey," you greeted him, keeping your voice soft and on the quiet side. You knew him so well, you could see how fatigued he was and frankly, you couldn't blame him. Being the strongest had its downsides, one of which was being very much in demand, and sadly, no one could take his place. "You're exhausted, huh?"

"Look at you, so damn perceptive," he snapped harshly, his eyes cold and empty as he looked down at you. He walked past you to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Are you hungry? I can make you someth-“

"No, just shut up, you cannot make me fucking anything," once again, his tone was cold as he snarled at you. It was the first time so much cyanide spilled out of his mouth and he just barely opened it. At first you tried to understand it. Things had been really draining lately and you knew he was angry because he was tired, but it hurt nonetheless.

"Alright," you sighed, deciding it's best not to get deeper into the conversation when he's so argumentative. "Do as you wish, get some rest, Satoru."

"You know, why instead of telling me what the hell to do, you just don't leave my house, huh?", Shut up Gojo, he screamed at himself subconsciously. "Why are you even here anyway?" Shut. Up. " All comfy when I'm constantly on the job?"

"I know you're tired, Satoru, but I've been on missions too. I'm tired too," you looked at him in defeat, unable to keep the smiley mask on. There was so much wrong in this situation, so much anger being thrown at you for no reason whatsoever, and you had every right in the world to be just as angry as he was, but you just chose not to. You wanted to welcome him home with warmth, comfort him, and keep him up even if you felt down. You wanted to soothe his aching body when yours hurt just as much. Or worse. You were badly injured during the last few battles, but Shoko had her hands so full, you told her you could wait, and you hid all those wounds from Gojo's eyes so as not to worry him.

"'Yeah, your little missions,'" he bit, and your brows furrowed at the sound of his words.

"What does that even mean?" you asked, slowly feeling the heat of anger coursing through your veins. "I'm first gra-"

"I don't care what you are. You're still nothing to me. I deal with real shit, not those..."

You slapped him. Or at least you tried, your hand stopping just short of his face, and it surprised you to realize his limitless was still on, even though he was home already. He was still in fight-or-flight mode, still feeling threatened enough to keep his defensive techniques activated.

"Just what do you think you're fucking doing?" he growled, taking your wrist into his grip, the squeeze shooting shockwaves of pain through your nervous system. "Did my words hurt you? Did the truth hurt you so badly that you thought you could actually hit me?", his tone had a taunting undertone, and when you looked into his blue eyes, you saw nothing but cold. "Funny little thing."

"Let go, Satoru."

"Oh, I will. And when I do, you'll get your useless ass out of here. I'm not your boyfriend, we just fuck, we're not in a goddamn relationship for you to be here all the time. I need my space."

Gojo hated every word that fell out of his mouth, but now he couldn't take them back or erase them, and he didn't exactly know how to act now that he had said them. Immediately, he let his limitless inactivate, hoping you'd want to slap him again. Shit, he'd even accept a kick in the balls, but you remained silent, just looking at him. He could tell by the way your eyes glistened in the sharp artificial light of his kitchen that there were tears threatening to come out, but you didn't cry. Your jaw clenched for a moment and you lowered your hand.

"Right," you exhaled deeply, feeling the hurt burn your heart and soul. The smoke of sadness already flowing through your veins, your cells, your mind. "You're right, we're not. Here," you performed a theatrical swing of your arm, displaying the interiors to him, "your fucking space. I'll let myself out."

"Y/n..." he tried, but you were already in the room, changing from your pj's to sweatpants. He stayed in the kitchen, hoping you'd just jump into bed and maybe cry about it all, and he'd just come back later and comfort you when he wasn't mad anymore, but it didn't go that way.

Once he saw you again, you were heading towards the door.

"Y/n stay, don't be silly, stop," he tried to grab you, but you slapped his hands away.

"What, does the almighty, fucking honored one wish to add something to his oh-so-wonderful speech?"

"No, I'm sorry, stay," he took your hand forcefully, pulling you into his chest, but you fought back, not wanting anything to do with him right now. He had said too much. You knew it was all driven by his exhaustion, but it was far too much.

"No, Gojo, I don't want to stay here. I'm more than pleased to leave you in your space. There's no damn reason for you to share your precious air with such a useless nothing."

"No, no, please," he begged, his anger slowly being overtaken by panic. The sound of his last name felt cold and unfamiliar as it rolled off your tongue. "I'm sorry, please stay. I didn't mean it. Fuck, I didn't mean any of it."

"Please, take your hands off me," you told him more quietly. You were tired and now emotionally drained as well. All you wanted from this evening was to cuddle up with him to sleep. To bask in his warmth, knowing he's safe and home, to feel his skin against yours, to breathe him in. But no.

"No, I won't," he lowered his head and buried his face in your neck. "Please, I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't mean it, I'm just so tired. I feel dead, there has been so much fighting and pain and suffering and death all around me these past few weeks. I'm sorry, y/n," his voice faded to whisper as he rambled against your pulse.

"Gojo..."

"I don't think you're useless or nothing. Fuck, what have I done" he was spiraling slowly into a panic attack. You could feel his heartbeat getting hectic, his breathing uneven, and his grip on you so tight it hurt. "I am nothing without you. Please stay."

"Gojo."

"I love you," he whispered, his tone breathless, and at first you thought you had heard him wrong. He had never told you that. Not even once. "I love you so fucking much, please. Slap me, kick me, punch me in the dick, I don't care. Just don't leave me. I'm so sorry."

"Satoru, please, it hurts..."

"Hurts?", he froze. What hurts? Did he hurt you? The thought frightened him, not only did he insult you for no damn reason and now he caused you pain? As if burned, he let go of you completely, raising his hands as if he wanted to keep them in sight so you knew he wouldn't hurt you anymore. "I'm sorry."

"I've been fighting for these weeks, too. I'm tired too. I would never compare myself to you, but I gave it my all, too," you exhaled deeply. "And I know you're exhausted, Satoru. So please go to bed and get some sleep. I'll just go home."

"Here is your home, with me."

"Here?", you briefly looked around. It was a place you loved because it was filled with him. It was where your heart wanted to be when you felt safest and happiest, but now... "Suddenly I feel like an intruder here. I feel like I shouldn't be here."

"No, please don't say that. Listen, y/n, love," he dropped to his knees, took your hands in his and kissed the tops of them gently and tenderly. "Please, stay with me. I'm an idiot. But I love you. And I need you here, I need you in my life. I want you by my side."

"So, what do you want us to be? You said we're just fucking. God, I thought we were at least friends, if not a couple, but..."

"I want us to be everything. I want you to be my friend, my partner, my lover, my wife and my entire world."

You sighed. Deep and slow, pushing the air out of your lungs, letting your whole body deflate as you took his hands and pulled him up.

"Go take a shower and come to bed. You need to sleep it off. I need to rest too."

Obeying, Satoru rushed to the bathroom and you made sure to lock the doors, turn off the lights and took the time to change back into your pajamas. Sitting on the bed, you finally felt the tears running down your face. They brought you some relief and you let them flow freely, desperate to get it out of you before Gojo came back. It pained you how wrong the evening went and you wondered if there was anything you did to cause it, but no. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t deserve it. And you should leave him there alone, just as he wished for. Then why were you still here?

"Please don't cry," his long arms wrapped around you from behind, enveloping you in his warmth. The light sweet scent of his body wash pleasantly filled your airways and it's out of habit that you leaned into him. "Will you ever forgive me?" he asked, gently wiping the tears from your cheeks. Slowly, he laid you down on the pillows and took his usual place beside you.

"I will," you sighed, already feeling the discomfort. "But please, let's change sides."

Satoru didn't understand at first, but he did what you asked anyway. When he saw you exhale in relief as you turned to the other side, his brain clicked. Moving his hands in the most delicate way possible, he lifted your shirt a little, revealing the many layers of bandages, already tinged with red that was seeping through them slowly.

"God, you're wounded. That's what was hurting you when I held you... I had no idea why you didn't tel-, ah, because I was being an asshole, right," he sighed.

"Yeah, I wasn't going to tell you anyway. I'm fine, just Shoko had her hands full, so I told her I'd wait a day or two. It's just a scratch, really," you told him, fixing your shirt. "Please, let's get some sleep, okay? We'll talk about it all later."

"I love you," he whispered, pulling you to his chest and planting a kiss on the top of your head. It was only now that he could feel his body relax, with you right next to him, your heartbeat syncing with his own, and all of your loving aura filling his body. And he realized that the words he never had the balls to say out loud to you now felt natural, rolling off his tongue. "I love you so much."

"You idiot," you sighed, closing your eyes and slowly melting into his form. "I love you too."