#even if everything was through a screen and text

[its-avalon-08]

Hello, my favourite Lando Norris writer. Can I request something with Lando where Reader has a son from a previous toxic relationship and Lando thinks she's like hiding something from, like cheating but she confess everything and Lando becomes the dad that stepped up. 🫶

miracle family (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - neglected child, tears, comfort

Lando sat at his dining table, staring at his phone. It had been a few days since he last saw Y/N, and though they’d spoken, something felt… off. She’d been distant, always rushing through their calls, making excuses to cut their time short. He told himself he was imagining it, that she was just busy, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind wouldn't let it go.

He thought back to their last date. They had planned to spend the entire evening together, but halfway through dinner, Y/N had gotten a call. She stepped outside to take it, her expression unreadable, but when she returned, her mood had shifted. Her usual brightness had dulled, and she seemed distracted for the rest of the night.

"Sorry, Lando, just some work stuff," she had said with a quick smile when he asked about the call. He didn’t press further, not wanting to seem pushy, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

Then there were the texts. Every time they were together, Y/N seemed to be checking her phone, typing quickly before locking the screen and setting it aside. She never let him see who she was messaging, and when he casually asked if everything was okay, she’d brush it off.

"Yeah, all good. Just a friend going through something," she had said once, her eyes darting away as if she couldn’t meet his gaze.

But the real moment that had started gnawing at him happened the previous weekend. Lando had invited Y/N to one of his races, excited to have her there with him. She’d always been supportive, her energy infectious, but this time, she’d been oddly quiet. When he asked if everything was alright, she just smiled tightly and said she was tired. But after the race, instead of joining him for drinks with the team, she had left abruptly.

"I’ve got to go, Lando. Something’s come up. I’ll explain later, okay?" Her voice had been apologetic, but her eyes… something about them seemed conflicted, like there was something she wasn’t telling him.

He didn’t know why, but in that moment, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was someone else. Was she hiding something from him? Maybe she was seeing someone behind his back, someone she wasn’t ready to tell him about. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask her directly.

Instead, Lando had chosen to observe, watching her carefully over the next few weeks. The phone calls, the quick glances at her screen, the random moments of detachment—it all added up. But every time he was about to say something, the words got stuck in his throat. What if he was wrong? What if she wasn’t cheating, and he was just overthinking everything?

Yet the doubts remained. He found himself scrolling through their old texts late at night, trying to pinpoint when the change had started. He remembered how things used to be—how open and carefree Y/N had been with him. But lately, it felt like there was a wall between them, one she wasn’t letting him break through.

And then, there was that one time she came over to his apartment, looking tired and worn out. She had barely spoken, her eyes heavy with something she wouldn’t share. He had asked her if she wanted to talk, but she had only shaken her head.

"I’m fine, Lando. Just a lot going on."

"Is it work?" he had asked, gently pushing, hoping to understand what was weighing her down.

"It’s… complicated," she had murmured, avoiding his gaze.

Lando hadn’t said anything more that night, but the silence between them had been louder than any words could have been. He had held her close, but even then, she had felt far away.

Now, as he sat alone in his apartment, his mind spinning with unanswered questions, Lando couldn’t help but wonder: was Y/N hiding something from him? Or was it something bigger—something she was afraid to tell him?

Either way, he knew he couldn’t keep pretending everything was normal. Not when it felt like he was losing her, piece by piece.

time skip

Lando strolled through the supermarket aisles, humming softly to himself as he checked items off his shopping list. It was a rare day off, and he decided to take care of some errands. He rounded the corner into the cereal aisle when a small, energetic blur collided with his legs.

"Oh, sorry!" Lando exclaimed, looking down to see a young boy, probably around five years old, grinning up at him.

"It's okay, mister!" the boy chirped. "I was just trying to find the cereal with the marshmallows. Do you know where it is?"

Lando chuckled, kneeling down to the boy's level. "I think it’s a couple of shelves down. What's your name, buddy?"

"I'm Ethan!" the boy said proudly. "What's yours?"

"Lando. Nice to meet you, Ethan," Lando replied, ruffling the boy's hair.

Ethan's eyes widened with excitement. "Like the race car driver?"

Lando laughed. "Exactly like the race car driver."

Ethan's eyes sparkled with wonder. "Wow! My mummy loves race cars! She watches them all the time."

Lando smiled, charmed by the boy's enthusiasm. "Your mum has good taste. Speaking of which, where is she? Shouldn't she be keeping an eye on you?"

Ethan pointed towards the end of the aisle. "She's over there! Mummy! Mummy!"

Lando turned his head in the direction Ethan was pointing, his heart skipping a beat as he saw Y/N standing at the end of the aisle, a look of shock and surprise on her face. She quickly made her way over, her eyes wide with a mixture of emotions.

"Lan?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Y/N, uh baby," Lando replied, equally stunned. "I didn't know… I mean, Ethan is your…?"

Y/N nodded, kneeling down to scoop Ethan into her arms. "Yeah, ummm this is my son, Ethan."

Ethan beamed, oblivious to the tension in the air. "Mummy, this is Lando! He's the race car driver!"

Y/N managed a weak smile. "I know, sweetheart. Why don't you go pick out the cereal you wanted?"

Ethan nodded eagerly and ran off, leaving Lando and Y/N standing there, an awkward silence hanging between them.

"Why didn't you tell me, Y/N?" Lando asked softly, his eyes searching hers.

Lando stood frozen, Y/N’s words echoing in his mind.

“I have a son.”

The bustling supermarket seemed to fade into the background, the soft hum of conversations and the clinking of shopping carts drowned out by the weight of her confession. Y/N stood before him, her hands trembling slightly as she held onto the shopping basket, her eyes wide and filled with fear, as though she was bracing herself for his reaction.

Lando blinked, trying to process the information. “You… you have a son?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with disbelief.

Y/N nodded, biting her lip, and that was when her composure began to crack. Her eyes welled up, her breath hitching in her chest as the emotions she had tried so hard to suppress finally surfaced. "Lando, I didn’t know how to tell you. I was so scared you’d leave if you knew. I’ve been hiding it, and I’m so sorry. I—"

Her words choked off as tears streamed down her face. She dropped the basket, her hands covering her face as she sobbed, right there in the middle of the cereal aisle.

“I didn’t want you to think I was hiding it because I don’t trust you, it’s just… Ethan is my whole life. His father was—he was awful, and I didn’t know how to protect us. I’m so sorry, Lando, I should’ve told you sooner—”

But before she could finish, Lando was there, dropping everything as he closed the space between them. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her into his chest as her body shook with sobs.

“Hey, hey,” Lando whispered, his voice soft and soothing. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Y/N.”

Y/N clung to him, burying her face in his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt. "I'm so sorry," she cried, her words muffled against him. "I didn’t want to lose you. I was so scared."

Lando tightened his embrace, his hand gently stroking the back of her head. "You’re not losing me. You could never lose me."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at her tear-streaked face. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears that continued to fall. “I wish you’d told me earlier, but I get it. I get why you were scared. But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. You and Ethan—you’re part of my life now. I want to be here for both of you.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide with disbelief and hope. "You really mean that?"

Lando nodded, his voice steady and full of conviction. "I do. I love you, and if Ethan’s a part of your life, then he’s a part of mine too."

Fresh tears filled her eyes, but this time they weren’t from fear or sadness. They were from relief, from the overwhelming realization that she wasn’t alone anymore. "Lando… I don’t even know what to say."

“You don’t have to say anything. Just… trust me, okay? We’ll figure this out together.” He pulled her back into his arms, holding her tightly as her breathing slowly steadied, her sobs turning into soft sniffles.

In that moment, surrounded by the quiet chaos of the supermarket, Lando knew that nothing else mattered. Not the people passing by, not the curious glances from other shoppers. All that mattered was Y/N and the promise he had made—to be there for her, to be there for Ethan, no matter what.

And as he held her, he realized that this was what love was about. Not just the good moments, but the hard ones too—the moments where you drop everything to be there for the person you love, no questions asked.

At that moment, Ethan came running back with a box of cereal, his face glowing with excitement. "I found it, Mummy! Look!"

Y/N and Lando both laughed, the tension dissipating as they turned their attention to the enthusiastic boy.

"Great choice, Ethan," Lando said, giving him a high-five. "How about we go check out and then grab some ice cream?"

Ethan's eyes lit up. "Yes, please!"

As they made their way to the checkout, Lando glanced at Y/N, his heart swelling with love and commitment. He knew that their journey together wouldn't always be easy, but he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. For Y/N, for Ethan, and for the family they were about to become.

--- extra scene p.s.a - abusive partner ----

As the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the park, Ethan ran ahead to the playground, his laughter filling the air. Lando and Y/N watched him for a moment, their hands intertwined as they sat on a nearby bench.

"He's really something," Lando said softly, a smile playing on his lips.

Y/N nodded, her eyes fixed on Ethan. "He is. He's my whole world."

Lando glanced at her, squeezing her hand gently. "Y/N, can we take a walk? There's something I want to talk to you about."

Y/N looked at him, a hint of worry in her eyes, but she nodded. "Sure, Lando."

They stood up and began to walk along the path that circled the playground, the sounds of children playing fading into the background.

"Y/N," Lando began hesitantly, "I want to understand more about Ethan's father. About what you went through. But only if you're ready to talk about it."

Y/N took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around Lando's. "It's… it's not easy to talk about. But you deserve to know."

She paused, collecting her thoughts as they walked. "Ethan's father, Mark, was… he was charming at first. But it didn't take long for his true colors to show. He was controlling, manipulative, and it only got worse over time."

Lando's grip on her hand tightened in silent support as she continued. "He would get angry over the smallest things, and his anger… it was terrifying. He hurt me, Lando. Physically, emotionally. I stayed because I thought I could change him, that things would get better. But they never did."

Y/N's voice broke, and she wiped away a tear that had escaped. "When I found out I was pregnant with Ethan, I knew I had to leave. I couldn't let him grow up in that environment. I was scared, but I knew it was the right thing to do."

Lando stopped walking, turning to face her. "Y/N, I can't even begin to imagine how hard that must have been for you. You're so strong."

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face now. "I don't feel strong, Lando. I felt broken and alone. But I had to protect Ethan. I had to give him a chance at a better life."

Lando pulled her into a tight embrace, his own eyes glistening with tears. "You did the right thing. And you're not alone anymore. You have me, and I'll be here for both of you. Always."

Y/N sobbed against his chest, the weight of her past finally lifting as she felt the warmth of his love and support. "Thank you, Lando. Thank you for being here, for understanding."

He kissed the top of her head, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you, Y/N. And I love Ethan. We'll make this work, I promise."

They stood there for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, the world around them fading away. When they finally pulled back, Lando gently wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"Let's go back to Ethan," he said softly. "He's probably wondering where we went."

Y/N nodded, a small but genuine smile forming on her lips. "Yeah, let's go."

As they walked back to the playground, hand in hand, Y/N felt a sense of hope and peace that she hadn't felt in a long time. She knew that the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but with Lando by her side, she was ready to face whatever challenges came their way.

[geotjwrs]

Hey is it possible if you could do Jenna x male reader based off the song Dark Red by Steve Lacy? Thank you

only you babe

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

The faint sound of music hummed in the background, barely loud enough to be heard over the quiet tension in the room. Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, his phone clutched in his hand, his eyes staring blankly at the screen. It had been an hour since Jenna had texted, and her silence felt louder than anything else in his life right now.

"I think you know that I miss you…"

The lyrics echoed in his mind, but all he could focus on was the gnawing feeling in his gut—the one that told him something was wrong. He hadn’t heard from her since their last conversation, and now every passing second felt like a countdown to something he didn’t want to face.

He stood up, pacing the small apartment. He’d always had this fear, deep down, that Jenna might slip away. That one day, she would realize she didn’t need him. And lately, that fear had started to feel more real. The way she’d been distant, the way her messages came less frequently, it all pointed to something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

"Something bad is ’bout to happen to me…"

The words from the song buzzed in his head, like a warning he couldn’t ignore.

Y/N ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of everything bearing down on him. He knew he should call her, talk to her, ask her what was really going on. But every time he thought about it, that voice in the back of his mind whispered, What if she’s done? What if you push her away?

Just as he was about to give in to the anxiety, his phone buzzed. A message.

Jenna: “Can we talk?”

Y/N’s heart dropped. He stared at the screen, his hands shaking slightly. Those words—“Can we talk?”—were never a good sign. He could feel the blood draining from his face, and the room suddenly felt too small, too hot.

He sat down again, his mind racing with every possible worst-case scenario. She was leaving, wasn’t she? She had found someone else, or maybe she had finally gotten tired of him. Y/N’s thoughts spiraled out of control, and before he could stop himself, he typed out a response.

Y/N: “Is everything okay?”

The seconds stretched into minutes, and still no response. Y/N stood up again, pacing even faster now, his palms sweaty as he waited for her reply. He couldn’t breathe. His mind was clouded with every possible thing that could go wrong.

"I think I’m losin’ it…"

He looked around the apartment, his gaze falling on the little things that reminded him of her. The jacket she’d left hanging on the back of his chair. The coffee mug she always used. The picture of the two of them sitting on the shelf, smiling like nothing in the world could ever come between them.

But now, Y/N wasn’t so sure. He hadn’t been sure for a while, and it scared him more than anything.

Finally, his phone buzzed again. He snatched it up, his heart pounding in his chest as he read her message.

Jenna: “Yeah, but… I just feel like things have been off between us lately.”

Y/N closed his eyes, feeling a lump form in his throat. He had known this was coming. He had felt it in every silence, in every missed call, in every time she had looked at him like she was seeing someone else. But hearing her say it, seeing it in black and white on his screen, made it real.

Y/N: “I know… I’ve felt it too.”

He didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to tell her how scared he was, how much he loved her, how the thought of losing her made him feel like he was drowning. But he didn’t. Instead, he just waited, feeling like the walls were closing in around him.

An hour later, Jenna showed up at his door. She stood there, her arms crossed, looking at him with those dark eyes that had always been able to read him like a book. There was something different in them tonight, though—something he couldn’t quite place.

Y/N stepped aside, letting her in. They hadn’t talked in person for a couple of days, and the air between them felt heavy, loaded with everything left unsaid.

“Hey,” she said quietly, her voice almost fragile as she walked past him.

“Hey,” Y/N replied, his throat tight. He closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a second before following her into the living room.

They sat on opposite ends of the couch, the space between them feeling much bigger than it had ever felt before. Y/N fidgeted with his hands, trying to come up with something to say, but his mind was blank.

Jenna looked at him, her expression soft but serious. “Y/N… I don’t know what’s been going on with us lately. But I can’t shake this feeling that something’s wrong.”

Y/N swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest. He wanted to tell her everything—about how terrified he was of losing her, how he’d been feeling this weight of uncertainty pressing down on him for weeks. But instead, he just nodded, afraid that if he said the wrong thing, he’d make everything worse.

“Me too,” he finally managed to say. “I’ve felt it too.”

Jenna sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t want us to fall apart, Y/N. But lately, it feels like we’re not even on the same page anymore. Like we’re both just waiting for something bad to happen.”

Y/N’s heart sank. That was exactly how he had been feeling. Like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to say she was done with him. He hadn’t realized she was feeling the same way.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Y/N said, his voice cracking slightly. He hated how vulnerable he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. This was Jenna, the girl he had loved for longer than he could remember, and the thought of her walking out of his life was unbearable.

Jenna’s eyes softened at his words. She reached out, taking his hand in hers. “I don’t want to lose you either. But we need to figure this out, Y/N. We can’t keep going on like this, pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.”

Y/N nodded, squeezing her hand tightly. “I know. I just… I’ve been so scared, Jenna. Scared that you’d wake up one day and realize you didn’t want this anymore. That you didn’t want me.”

Jenna’s expression softened even more, and she moved closer to him, her hand still gripping his. “Y/N… that’s not it. I love you. I always have. But we can’t keep letting fear control us. We need to talk to each other, not shut down every time things get hard.”

Y/N closed his eyes, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. She wasn’t leaving. She didn’t want to leave. But the fear, the doubt, had been eating him alive for weeks, and now that it was out in the open, he realized just how much it had been affecting them.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own head that I didn’t realize I was pushing you away.”

Jenna shook her head, her thumb gently brushing over the back of his hand. “We’ve both been doing it. But it doesn’t have to be like this. We can fix this, Y/N. We just need to be honest with each other.”

Y/N nodded, finally meeting her gaze. “I want that. I want us to be okay.”

Jenna smiled softly, leaning in to press her forehead against his. “We will be. But we have to stop letting fear get in the way.”

They sat there like that for a while, their foreheads touching, the weight of their unspoken fears slowly lifting. The tension between them wasn’t gone, but it felt lighter now, more manageable.

As the night wore on, Y/N realized that the dark cloud that had been hanging over them for so long was starting to fade. There were still things they needed to work through, still conversations they needed to have, but for the first time in weeks, Y/N felt like maybe they could make it through this.

And as he held Jenna close, he knew one thing for sure—he wasn’t going to let fear take her away from him. Not again.

[mikashisus]

HSR MEN WITH AS IT IS SONGS !

PAIRINGS: dan heng, aventurine, sunday, jing yuan, blade x gn!reader

CWS: angst

NOTES: all of u can blame gwen and jun for the dan heng section. anyw ive been so hyperfixated on as it is lately bc they just announced they’re coming back from hiatus and RAHHHH IM SO EXCITED, ive been waiting so longgg i missed the pookies sm <//3 ermm this is not proofread sorry for any errors !!

WC: 1.1k

THE FIRE, THE DARK — DAN HENG

“she’s all i want, now that i’m on my own, now that she’s really gone” …

on the days where his mind wasn’t occupied with the data bank or memories of his past life, his thoughts always drifted to you.

you, who always kept him warm with your body heat. you, who always filled the express with constant laughter and chatter. you, who never failed to distract him from his work. your smile that could light up an entire room and your joyful presence that beckoned others to you.

but he let you slip through his fingers. and now, his bed was cold and so was he. his room was quiet, almost devoid of life except for his soft breathing. the parlor car was empty, except for welt and himeko’s occasional whispers. breakfasts weren’t any fun anymore, not when you weren’t there to rile up march and shout “food fight!”

his life was dull without you, the fire that kept him going. now there was a different fire, but it didn’t burn as bright as you. it never would. now that you were gone, traveling elsewhere in the cosmos, you were all he ever wanted.

DIAL TONES — AVENTURINE

“i’ll mend your heart and break it in the same breath, all we ever share are dial tones” …

another night of the same shit. you had been waiting for the inevitable ringtone that always sounded when he called you.

same time every night without fail. sometimes, he wouldn’t call at all. he’d blow off your dates and then gift you things you didn’t need to try and make up for it. but all you really wanted was to spend time with him.

you waited, cuddling a plushie he gifted you to your chest. the clock struck midnight and still no call. you were just about to give up and call it a night, when your phone screen lit up and the caller id displayed his name. you eagerly sat up, reaching for your phone, when you suddenly paused.

he was going to recite the same words. you could feel it. you let your hand drop back onto your bed and sighed as you turned your back to your phone. you wouldn’t answer. not tonight.

when you woke up the next morning, his side of the bed was still empty, but a small note rested on his pillow. you picked it up, only to see the same lame half-assed apology he always gave. you crumpled up the piece of paper and grabbed your phone, dialing his number.

THE HANDWRITTEN LETTER — SUNDAY

“i need you when i’m bruised, i need you when i’m broken” …

he fell from grace. he was no longer the esteemed head of the oak family. he was now… a fallen angel. a fugitive of penacony.

and yet, he came crawling to you for help again. even now, when he knew that involving you meant you would be a fugitive too. but he needed you— needed your smile, your laugh, your presence, your embrace. everything about you.

you always healed him when he felt broken and bruised. you always welcomed him into your home without question, tending to his broken state of mind and allowing him a moment of solace from the outside world.

he knocked thrice, waiting for the door to the shop to swing open like it always did. but there was no answer from the other side, no sign of life. he knocked again, only to realize the sign in the window. the shop was closed, and sold.

you were gone. you didn’t tell him you were leaving. why didn’t you tell him? why didn’t you stay when he so clearly needed you?

he fished out his beaten up phone and sent you a text, only for it to not go through.

THE TRUTH I’LL NEVER TELL — JING YUAN

“how long's it been, it must be months, i swear this time I meant to keep in touch, like always” …

how long has it been? months? years?

he swore he’d keep in touch with you even after you moved to the yaoqing, yet he never took that one step to sending you a text or dialing your number.

it was slowly getting harder for him. his mental health was getting worse. all of his past friends were showing up again, all of them completely different from the people they used to be. they were familiar faces, yet he didn’t recognize any of them.

you were the only one thing that stayed constant in his life before you also left. you moved, and you slowly changed, just like everyone else.

he wondered if you moved on, found a new partner, had kids…

he could easily text you, or call, and ask to catch up sometime. but he was scared. you’d ask about his wellbeing, and he wouldn’t be able to tell you because he didn’t want you to feel disappointed. he didn’t want you to feel guilty for leaving him by himself.

you sent him texts. he read each one. he’d reread them when he missed you terribly. yet, he couldn’t find the courage to reply. you sent him letters once in a while, yet none of them told of how your own life was going. you always asked about him. how he’s been, how yanqing was doing, how fu xuan was faring.

you asked about dan feng once, and that was the only time he responded, telling of his reincarnation. that was the last and only time he replied.

PATCHWORK LOVE — BLADE

“i won’t forget you, i won’t regret through the pain, the years i gave to you” …

he knows you used to love him, but you don’t anymore. you loved who he used to be.

yingxing was the man you fell in love with once upon a time. it’s been years since then. did he even remember that time? you did. you oh so clearly did.

whenever you reconnected, you’d bring it up. you’d talk about all the things you two used to do, where you’d go, the holidays you spent together. it seemed as if your head was filled entirely of memories from the past. as if your heart still beat for the man he used to be, when all he used to do was smile. when all he said to you were words of love and encouragement.

but it’s been years since then. and he was not the same man you knew. he was mara-struck, his mental health unstable and teetering on the edge of insanity at every moment.

yet, you seemed to be the same. somehow. you’d text him now and then, and he knew you felt guilty for what happened, even though it wasn’t your fault in the slightest. he never blamed you for anything.

you’d ask to meetup, and when you did, he saw how you were almost the exact same as you used to be. just, now, your eyes were duller, no longer filled with that wonder he always loved the most about you.

you talked of how your life was going. you were faring well— way better than he was. you had kids. they were all grown up with families of their own. your heart no longer beat for him. it seemed as if you finally moved on.

he wouldn’t ever forget you. he swore he wouldn’t. not when thoughts of you kept him sane. although the past you shared was no more, he still felt himself again when he was with you. as if nothing changed.

© 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[demonicbaby666]

iii. Take Out with a Side of Make-out

Feelings are Fatal Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!Reader

Words: 5.4k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, there's literally no warnings for this chapter though...

When you woke, it was to an empty apartment. Your quiet movements to lounge were of no importance because she was gone. JJ was gone. The only mark left of another having inhabited the space was a lonely, loosely folded blanket on the couch that sent a cold shiver up your spine. You walked forward and took the material into your hands, cradling it between your arms and chest as though you could trick yourself into believing it was the woman who marked its fibres with her scent. 

The question of JJ’s whereabouts or sudden departure remained unanswered as you scoured the room for clues. There was no note, no remnants of a coffee made before her leave, nothing but a few strands of golden hair that glinted off the sofa and pillows in the morning light. Still, you stood there for a few more minutes. Eyes closed, mind racing, you breathed in the last bit of JJ you had left held precious in your grasp. 

You allowed self-pity to settle into each slow step leading back to your room, praying your floorboards would turn to quicksand and put you out of your misery. The door creaked open, the hinges crying to be oiled and reminding you of yet another task you had left unchecked. Beside your bed was your phone, a beckon of hope for your worrisome mind that you ran to in desperate hopes an explanation lay waiting in a grey bubble. 

With a single tap, the black screen lit up. You scrolled through everything unimportant without an ounce of remorse. So brutal in your search for answers, you ignored even Garcia, her clump of twenty-odd messages moving up and up till they disappeared entirely. She could wait till later to hear about the so-called ‘hot date’ and how he turned out to be a grimy creep. 

With every passing icon, hope dwindled. The last notification stared at you with its time stamp so ancient that all it read was yesterday. In a late ditch effort, you clicked the text chain with JJ, thinking things could slip between the cracks when it came to faulty technology; you’d dropped your phone once or twice, surely that was enough to dislodge a wire or two. The chat was desolate of new messages. 

The dread you felt that Sunday set the tone for the upcoming week, which was entirely bleak. 

Work was work, and managing an independent bookstore had its good moments. Informing your colleague a friend of hers, or what turned out to be a friend of a friend of a friend of hers, attempted to spike you was not one of them. The only consolation to the awkward encounter was the consoling hug you received, which, for all intents and purposes, filled the gaping space in your chest that yearned for some form of physical intimacy on that first Monday back. 

Police reports were filed, and comfort was found in the awaiting punishment your date would face, but it was hollow and sapless. Each dying day, when the sun took its rest, you still stood in front of your mirror and noted the toll life without solace took on you. The dark circles under your eyes had worsened, taking on the appearance of bruises a person would sustain in a fighting ring. The fullness of your face was no more. Your cheeks looked gaunt and hollow. There was no colour to your face, no life force spare to light up your eyes after days of endless sorrow. The longer you looked, the more you realised you had fallen victim to a situation that was of your own making. 

There was little news on JJ. When a text finally came through on a bleak Wednesday, it was direct and uninformative. 

‘How are you?’ 

The reprieve from your anxieties was short-lived, and you scolded yourself for thinking JJ owed you anything when she disappeared out of thin air the moment the question of how she was doing was posed. 

That’s when the anger came. The blinking cursor mocked you with its potential. Endless texts filled with barbed remarks and pointed accusations were written, deleted, and edited until only the worst of the worst were left. It tore at your chest to read the message back and come face to face with the literate poison you had conjured. The words were sour on your tongue, and your voice was broken between sobs of a pained acknowledgement as you read. There is nothing hurt people do better than share their hurt, but that would not be you. You would not inflict damage upon the person you knew you would always love. No message was sent that day or the following. 

Time moved, and you clung to each new day's possibilities. Maybe if you gave JJ the space she appeared to need, she’d find her way back to you, but no matter how hard you fought to find hope and happiness where there wasn’t any, every passing hour you lived and breathed remained a quiet torment. Despair followed you like a shadow you couldn’t shuck, and for the first time since you parted ways with JJ, you considered the elicit relationship between you was coming to its inevitable end. 

The thought plagued you throughout the week till Thursday and Friday came and left, leaving you empty and tired, ready for Saturday’s promise of a day you could spend under your bedsheets utterly and tragically alone. 

The stages of grief had run their course, and you found yourself at the finale. 

There’s a misconception that when you find acceptance, it’s freeing and beautiful; tranquillity sheds beams of light over all the gloom and loss, like the sun peaking through a winter forest, thawing frostbitten earth. This contrived interpretation does not paint the harsh reality of acceptance. The hole cut through your chest did not feel less hollow; if anything, it was more prominent, leaving an imprint on your past, present and future. Songs, places and faces were draped in black garments, polluted by the faint air of heartache and neglect. 

Acceptance was the sword at the end of a fight that found your throat and put you out of your misery. Acceptance was realising in the death of your old self, you’d strive to be someone better in the next. Acceptance was knowing that you wouldn’t be victim to your circumstances anymore, that you’d carry your pain like armour, wear it proudly as you built your walls back up and never let anyone bulldoze them again. There would be no cracks in the foundations this time, JJ would not sneak her way into your heart, and the parts of her that remained would be snuffed out. 

So Saturday became the closing of a chapter, and Sunday began anew with the shrill of your phone waking you up at 7 am. Not quite how you expected the day to start, but you tried to avoid taking the abrupt start to the day as a bad omen. 

It was an easy decision to silence the call and reclaim the morning as your own. The first step—going back to sleep. 

The second call came through three hours later, and you couldn’t excuse ignoring it under the guise of self-care when sleeping past 10 am was bordering on excessive for someone who went to bed before the sun had fully left the sky the night before. Begrudgingly, you threw an arm over the side of your bed, violently clambering until your hand landed over the vibrating device. Too familiar with the screen layout, your finger pressed the general location of the answer icon as you brought the phone to your ear.

“Hello,” you mumbled, too tired to acknowledge the gruffness of your voice, though you could feel the greeting grate against your throat like sandpaper. 

“Shit. Did I wake you up?” 

Of course, it was her. Out of everyone who could’ve called to be greeted by your crackled, prepubescent morning lilt, it had to be JJ. 

Shooting up, suddenly very awake, you gripped the phone tighter and cleared your throat. 

“I had to get up anyway,” you stated blankly. 

“Oh.” She was off-put. You could hear it in her scattered tone. It was unknown whether it was from your lack of enthusiasm or the reason for her calling.

There was only silence for a beat, and you could hear the thoughts churning inside JJ’s head from the other side of the phone speaker. The responsibility to fill the silence was not yours. You weren’t the one to call, and you wouldn’t be the one to encourage JJ to speak now that she had suddenly re-founded her interest in you. 

“You still there?” she asked, sounding nervous enough for you almost to abandon your indifference to the unknown subject matter of the call. Almost. 

“Yes,” you replied, seemingly unbothered despite feeling the exact opposite. “Just waiting.” 

There came a sigh, and you steeled yourself to remain calm for what was to follow. No one’s heart ought to be beating as fast as yours was at 10 am. 

“I’m sorry. I know I’ve been MIA this week. Work has been hectic, and I’ve had a lot going on, but I should’ve checked in more.” 

“Yes, you should have.” There was another bout of silence, then a drawn-out breath shared by you and JJ. You knew for this conversation to lead anywhere, you needed to give leeway. But you were hurt and still harboured anger towards JJ, enough to leave her sitting in the static atmosphere for a few more seconds. 

“You’re right.” She finally relented, sounding surer than she had been in the last few minutes. There was a bit of shuffling coming from JJ’s end of the call before everything stilled. “I was stupid and blindsided by unimportant things when my attention should have been on you. I should have called. I should have come over and comforted you and kept you safe after everything that happened. There are so many things I should have said and done, but I’m calling now and asking for just a fraction of forgiveness. Let me make it up to you.” 

“And how do you plan on doing that?” you asked, waves of curiously eroding the shores of lasting anger. 

“There’s this thing…”

“Oh well, that changes everything. A thing. Why didn’t you say that earlier? That makes everything okay then.” You were sure she could hear the roll of your eyes in your bit-off tone. 

“My mom’s coming to town next week and I’m being forced to host a luncheon, or what a normal person would call a barbeque.” She paused momentarily, taking a deep breath before rushing through the rest of her request. “I thought you could come along as my date so I could avoid all the badgerings over my lack of love life.” 

“Let me get this right,” you began with a humourless laugh. “To make up for not being there when I needed you, you want me to do you a favour by pretending to be your date so your family and friends don’t pester you?” 

“It doesn't sound so great when you say it like that.” 

“Probably because it isn’t,” you stated matter of factly, the amusement peeking through the cracks of your tone. 

“Free food.” 

“Not happening.” 

“Good company.” 

“I'm assuming you’re dubbing yourself the so-called good company?”

“You like my company!” JJ feigned offence so well that you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I tolerate it at best,” you stated, failing to hold back a smile. “It’s still a hard no.” 

“I’ll pick you up and drop you back home.” 

This particular clause in the imaginary contract piqued your interest. For reasons unknown, the image of JJ being at your beck and call, wanting your company at her side so badly she’d go out of her way to make it happen, elicited a fuzzy feeling in your chest. A week away from her was good. It was the breathing space you needed to realise things had to change. And as unconventional as it may be, perhaps this was the opportunity to enforce the change you strived for. 

“Will you at least consider it?” 

“Fine,” you dramatically sighed, dropping your body back on your bed and looking at the barren ceiling. 

The conversation came to a natural close after JJ graced you with more details of her week, this time holding little back. She asked question after question, making it silently known your morning would be hers. Your allotted time to make coffee and sip on it also belonged to her, and try as you might have, though you tried little, there was nothing to be done about the rather annoying fact you quite clearly did crave JJ’s company after going so long without it. So you allowed time to spill through your fingers and words to flow from your mouth. It didn't sting or hurt when it was time to part ways. You didn’t yearn for anything more. It was nice: being content with the mediocre. 

The following week, you hoped for more of the same. Finally, you were happy to settle for normal, but the week presented nothing of the sort. First, the box of chocolates came, waiting for you outside your apartment on Monday evening. Innocent enough. Then came the bouquet of flowers the following Tuesday that you discovered within the walls of your apartment, sitting idly and beautifully on your kitchen counter. You pondered on the time JJ must have set aside to hand deliver the array of thalictrums, tulips and gardenias, wanting so badly to place meaning to the gift that was left to coerce you into agreeing to accompany JJ next weekend. 

Buds took root in the soil of your heart, and ever-present weeds of affection sprouted. Thwacking away at the blooms, knowing the conditions were no longer suitable for sustaining a garden of pathetic hope, you placed the second gift JJ bestowed upon you in a cream vase you found locked away under your sink. 

Placed by the window, the sun bled colour through petals like stained glass the following Wednesday morning, a bright sight to gape at whilst mindlessly stirring milk into coffee. 

That evening, as you swept through the doors of your apartment, you fiddled with a parcel left in your mailbox. It was no bigger than your palm, neatly wrapped in Kraft paper. Attached was a note written for Saturday. The handwriting gave away who had sent the gift but did nothing to alleviate the boding curiosity running rampant in your belly. 

Under the brown coverings was a black box, its contents half unmasked from the lid taking the brunt end of your less than gentle treatment. It was a bracelet. A dainty thing comprised of thin gold chains looped together and delicately placed opposite the clasp was a single tiny diamond. It was perfect. It was too much. 

Pulling your phone out, clicking JJ’s contact highlighted under favourites, you listened to the rings chime by your ear. You reached her voicemail, and having been unprepared to leave a strongly worded message, you hung up, navigating your way to your text chain, only to be greeted by three dots. 

17:30 (JJ) - On a case. But no, I’m not returning it. I’m not taking it back. You’re keeping it, and if you choose to come with me on Saturday (which you should), you’ll wear it. 

17:31 - It’s too much, JJ. 

17:31 (JJ) - No, it’s not. If anything, it’s not enough. 

17:32 - I’m hiding it in your bag next time I see you. 

17:33 (JJ) - Can you accept the gift like a normal person and say thank you?

17:34 - No. 

17:35 (JJ) - The bracelet stays with you. You deserve to be spoiled. So, suck it up cause I’ve got to go. 

And just like that, you were alone. A sappy smile in place, standing in your kitchen gazing at your pretty flowers and your pretty bracelet. It was right about then that you realised how utterly fucked you were. There wasn’t a force on earth strong enough to hold you back from attending Saturday’s luncheon as JJ’s honorary date. 

Questions of motives and intentions sprouted fast in your mind like pockets of unruly weeds. Doubt reared its head, peeking through the cracks of cheap blinders fabricated on broken dreams. Once upon a time, you may have tricked yourself into believing your own delusions. JJ felt the same way you did. That’s why she called you at ungodly hours for pleasure and only that. JJ searched for opportunity after opportunity to be in your company, and that’s why she ignored you for a whole week. You really had been blinded by love.  

You greeted the petulant childlike dreams with the fortification of your guard. There would be no more longing, pining, or losing yourself in a make-believe future you thought you could see through the rose-tinted lenses of JJ’s unreadable gaze. There would be no mistake about it, when Saturday arrived, you would play your part, and you would do no more than that. 

By Thursday evening, you were convinced the gifts had stopped. Sluggishly trailing upstairs after a tiresome day and unlocking your apartment, nothing awaited you. It was both a relief and a hard-to-admit disappointment. Surely, through some type of psychic link, JJ must have known she’d swayed your better judgment and swindled you into agreeing to her terms. 

Of course, no such thing existed, and the blonde was very much still on the train of buying her way back into your heart. You discovered this when sitting down, scrolling through the endless list of restaurants on delivery apps. The options were vast, and your indecisive mind was too worn out to take on the challenge of picking which cuisine spoke most to your palette, let alone what you wanted off the menu if you ever managed to dwindle the options down to one. 

Your fridge was barren, and the contents of your cupboards were mainly noodles and dried foods that didn’t sound all that appetising, given that you’d have to find the energy to move to the kitchen and engage in making something. So, after thirty minutes of idle scrolling and scornful glances at your kitchen, you gave up, choosing to sit in the glum of adulthood and responsibility. 

At that precise moment of defeat, a buzzing rang from beside your door. You weren’t expecting anyone and most friends knew the code to let themselves in so they wouldn’t ring up. Maybe they had the wrong apartment? 

Another buzz. 

Huffing, you stood and walked over to the intercom. The quality on the screen was grainy, but you saw the delivery driver clear enough, hands filled with bags of food as a motorcycle sat idly behind him. 

“I think you might have the wrong apartment,” you said, ignoring the pang of hunger that shot through your belly. “I can buzz you in, though.” 

He held a receipt up to his face, scanning it momentarily. “Second floor. Apartment five?”

“Yes.” 

“Well then, this stuff is for you,” he declared, motioning to the bags he had in hand. 

“Come on up,” you sighed, admitting defeat. 

When the food arrived, you apologised to the delivery driver, realising he was carrying not one, not two, but three bags filled with containers of food. The waiting time, plus the journey up flights of stairs, can’t have been enjoyable, and you felt bad for only being able to offer a sympathetic smile as consolation. The guilt reduced once your eyes landed on the receipt and you discovered two things. One: JJ was indeed the one to send the surplus of food. And two: she’d left a hefty tip that more than made up for the inconvenience. 

Aware the blonde may still be busy on a case you didn’t bother calling. 

18:40- You know I can’t eat all of this, right?

18:46 (JJ) - Is that an invitation to come and help? 

18:47- Are you going to make me ask, or would you rather I not fit into the dress I’ve picked for this Saturday? 

18:47 (JJ)- On my way! 

18:56 (JJ)- Wait… WAS THAT A YES TO COMING? 

19:00- Yes, Jennifer Jareau, I’ll be your date for your family BBQ. 

19:04 (JJ)- You know I only like it when you use my full name when your mid orgasm ): 

19:05- If you crash whilst texting and driving, then you’ll be lucky if you ever get to see me again, let alone touch me. 

19:09 (JJ)- Texting + driving = no sex. Noted. 

19:10- I’m eating all the spring rolls. You don’t deserve any. 

Not even ten minutes later, JJ barged in, reaffirming your theories regarding texting and driving. Additionally, it led you to believe she’d picked up speeding as a habit outside of work. You were about ready to scold her when you turned to the door to see the blonde in a bit of a state. Her eyes were bulging, scouring around the kitchen, paying no mind to her hands as she yanked the keys out the door and came scurrying towards you, panicked. 

“Please tell me you didn’t.” 

You dropped the breath you had been holding, rolling your eyes. “The spring rolls, as well as everything else, are untouched,” you said, hiding your smile with the turn of your head. “Stop being dramatic and help me plate all this food.” 

Satisfied, JJ made her way to the counter, eyeing its contents like a hawk ready to strike. To her credit, she followed the orders, picking noodles up with chopsticks and plopping a healthy amount on each plate, divvying curried meats and sides between you. There was a reprimand on the tip of your tongue, watching rolls of crispy filo pastry piled one after the other, the distribution system far from fair. Any feelings of injustice died at the sight of JJ’s smile. 

“Happy?” you asked, sidling up to her, wanting so badly to kiss the corner of her lips, where her cheery smile sank ever so slightly into her cheek. 

“Yup,” she answered, popping the p at the end of her sentence as she grinned, handing you your plate. “Couch?”

“Sure.” You took your food and padded over to the living room, settling comfortably into plush pillows. 

There were nearly twenty shows you could list that had safely made it into the category of ‘background noise’, and you settled for throwing one of them on, happy to chat with JJ rather than get sucked into a fantasy world. 

It was the right choice because as soon as the blonde came to join you, her mouth would not close, safe from when she politely cut her sentences short to shovel food into her mouth. She was animated like this—talking about her work, friends, family, and anything really. Warmth pooled in your stomach, seeping into your bloodstream and circulating your body till all you knew was comfort. This was home. The couch, noodles, light conversation and JJ. It was all the epitome of belonging. 

The light from the TV abruptly dimmed. An ‘Are you still watching?’ message appeared on the screen, bathing empty glasses, plates and take-out boxes that had migrated from the kitchen to your coffee table in a tinted red glow. 

At the exact same moment, your and JJ’s eyes landed on the screen and then shot back to one another. Laughter rumbled through your chests at the sore sight of guilty lopsided smiles. It seemed you both had lost track of time, too focused on idle chatter. 

Once the excitement had died down, JJ moved to stand. “I don’t think we ever were watching,” she muttered, shooting you a mischievous smirk as she walked towards the door. 

“You know,” you drawled, eyeing JJ speculatively. “I hear it’s usually good manners to say goodbye to the host before you leave.” 

She glanced back, mouth set in a firm line, giving you a specific look that translated directly to ‘Are you serious?’ and you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“I’m getting something from my bag if you must know.” And she did just that. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a black box similar to the one you received on Wednesday, only this one was slightly bigger and flatter. 

“I’ve already agreed to Saturday JJ. I don't need any more bribes.” 

“That’s not-” she cut herself off, shaking her head and returning to the couch. “Just open it already,” she ordered, plopping beside you. Despite her carefree persona, there was no mistaking the nervousness to JJ as she bit at the side of her mouth, waiting for you to take the proffered gift. 

“Alright, alright.” You raised both hands with a grin, surrendering and taking the box from her hand, hoping to dispel some of her anxieties. “No need to get feisty.” 

She continued to fidget, your teasing going right over her head as you drew your eyes away from her ringing fingers to the lid of the black box. It bore the same mark as the one you’d previously received, a local jeweller by the looks of it, but not one you recognised. 

The lid came off with a pop of trapped air, and underneath lay a familiar sight. You recognised the gold chain, simple and elegant, but where a single gem was placed on your bracelet, on this necklace, lay a cluster of small diamonds, all circling a polished ruby. 

“JJ, it’s-” you gasped. 

“I swear if you say too much again,” she rushed to say. 

“Actually,” you went on, straightening your neck to face the blonde. “I was going to say beautiful.” 

Her face lit up. A bright smile pulled at the contours of her cheeks as her eyes fixed solely on you. 

“Yes, it is.” 

A shy smile blossomed over your lips, and your cheeks flushed with the distinct impression she wasn’t talking about the necklace anymore. Tension grew heated in the silence, leaving you breathless as you darted your attention back to the little box in your hand, thumbing over the golden chain. 

“Let me?” JJ asked, and you watched as her fingers slithered into view beside your own. 

Cautiously looking up at her, seeing hope beam so openly over her features, you nodded. 

She took care in taking the necklace from its home, running the chain through her fingers as she pulled it through two divots puncturing velvet. She let the chain hang between her fingers, holding it up and waiting patiently for you to turn. 

“Oh, right,” you muttered, shifting your position so you had one leg tucked under the other, your back facing JJ. 

There was some shuffling behind you before you felt the warm press of JJ’s chest against your shoulder blades, her fingers tickling your neck as she swept your hair aside. Fighting to keep composure, you swallowed down the beginnings of a whimper. 

Appearing to be in no rush, JJ brought both hands around your head and rested her palms over your collarbones. You shivered as the cold metal fell against your heated skin, failing to ignore the way JJ had paused to let the small gem dangle between your breasts. 

Her warm breath grazed your neck, and you could feel the tip of her nose press against the underside of your ear. Arousal bubbled low in your stomach, fizzling beneath the fluttering butterflies that had claimed your body as their play place, and a week without JJ’s touch suddenly started feeling a lot more like years. You craved her kisses, her hands, her tongue keeping you vocal from between your legs. The memories were coming waves, pulling you backwards both physically and metaphorically to JJ. 

Finally, the necklace was dragged along your chest, and JJ leaned back to clasp it shut. The brief reprieve from the mounting traction you felt towards the woman behind you was, unfortunately, short-lived, and it wasn't long before the soft pad of fingers grazed the line of your jaw. The touch was light and easy to dissuade if you so chose. You could push against the angling of your head and remain an unwilling participant in this nefarious scheme JJ was conjuring up. 

Instead, you closed your eyes and allowed JJ to guide your face to hers. 

The air was thick, and silence rang through the room, disrupted only by your bated breath and hastening heartbeat. A kiss ghosted over your parted lips. All it would take to bridge the gap between you was one minute move forward. 

She smelt like beef and bean sprouts and burning desire, but you knew the taste of lips only promised regret. 

With one long exhale, you pulled away. 

“I should put the food away,” you announced, leaning forward to grab the plates and cutlery off the coffee table. Standing and moving to the kitchen, you didn't look back, too focused on berating yourself between stilled breaths. 

You’d been in your apartment long enough to know the water always ran cold for a few seconds before eventually shifting to a temperature sufficient to clean your dishes. However, this didn’t stop you from plunging your hands under the icy waters. It was a needed relief, and the pull back to reality was instant, allowing you to see the mistake you’d almost made. Still, the feel of JJ’s lips haunted you. 

Her presence was felt more than ever as she appeared behind you, and you hoped, for the umpteenth time, that your better judgment would emerge victorious in the fight against clouded lust. But your restraint was pulled taut and on the brink of snapping. You knew if JJ pushed, you’d break. 

For someone consumed by thoughts of another, you paid little mind to the person in question, leaving yourself vulnerable and ripe for the taking. 

The tap spluttered, and a messy display of steaming water burst through the faucet. The shock pulled you from your anxieties, though another surprise awaited you when JJ crept up closer behind you, sliding her hands around your waist and resting them over your belly. 

“I can help,” she whispered hotly into your ear.

Your full-bodied shiver left JJ feeling emboldened. Her fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt. Her wicked smirk pressed against your neck. And her chest pressed firm against your back, locking you in place with the edge of the sink cutting into your hips. 

The trail of her fingers against your stomach was scorching, never settling on one spot long before moving to another. Too lost in the sensations coaxing your body into a state of relaxation, you scarcely reacted to JJ flipping you around and settling your thighs over the soft curve of the sink. 

Her tongue slid into your mouth with a sense of urgency as she savoured the taste of you with languid strokes, moans vibrating from her chest and tunnelling down into your throat. 

You held both hands to JJ’s chest, applying enough pressure to push her away, maintaining it to prevent her from getting close again. You couldn’t do this. Not again. “It’s late, and we’ve both got to get up early for work tomorrow.” 

Even if this was for the best, it was hard not to leave caution to the wind, take JJ’s hand and guide her straight to her bedroom, especially when she looked so much like a kicked puppy with the pout she was sporting. 

“I’ll see you Saturday,” you said with a sorrowful smile, jumping down and ushering her towards the door. “And JJ?”

She turned instantly, looking half-ready to run back into your apartment before her smile faltered, “Yes?” 

“Thank you for tonight.” You dug your chin into your chest, peering down at your newly acquired necklace. “And this, and the food, and the flowers,” you tried hard not to choke on your own words, “and well, everything.” 

“I’d do anything for you.” 

There was so much sincerity in the way JJ had said it. It left no space for doubt. The only problem was that she seemed pained by the admission, so much so her eyes looked glassy and far off. 

You wanted to ask her what she meant, why she seemed so saddened by her own words, but by the time you found your voice, she was gone. 

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[la-spooky]

꧁ ༺ Beneath His Dark Waters ༻ ꧂

I am determined to prove that Rafayel is a more fucked up individual than Sylus. It's unnerving how well he hides it. A match made in hell.

༻ CH1: His Ocean, His Obsession ༻ Read the 18+ kinky smut chapters at my AO3 ༻ Fic Status: Ongoing ༻ Pairing: Sylus x Rafayel ༻Summary: "You know damn well you fucked me, Rafayel," Sylus growled, his voice low and dangerous. "We made a deal." Rafayel felt the room closing in around him as the words sank like lead into his chest. His mouth went dry, but he kept his gaze locked on Sylus, refusing to show the fear gnawing at him from within. For a brief moment, Rafayel saw something else in Sylus’s eyes, a flicker of something raw, almost pained, beneath the anger. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by the cold, unyielding mask of control. Sylus leaned forward, the broken glass cutting into his palm. He didn’t flinch. “It’s time to pay your debt.”

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© 2024 la-spooky

Rafayel's nerves had been fraying for days. It started with small things. Feeling a prickling on the back of his neck as if someone was watching him, shadows that seemed to move just out of sight, and flashes of red that flickered in his peripheral vision. At first, he dismissed them as tricks of his mind or remnants of his time on the run. But as the days passed, the sense of being watched grew stronger, the flashes of red more frequent, and his sleep more restless.

He tried to ignore his paranoia by poring himself into his art. The studio, usually a place of calm and creation, now felt like a pressure cooker, the walls closing in on him. He was in the middle of a particularly aggressive stroke when his phone buzzed loudly on the table beside him. The sharp sound made him jump, his hand slipping and smearing the paint across the canvas. With a frustrated sigh, he wiped his hands on a rag and grabbed the phone, his heart still racing from the sudden noise.

The message was from an unknown number. His brow furrowed as he opened it, expecting some spam or wrong number. But as soon as the text opened, his phone screen flickered violently. The usual smooth interface became corrupted with glitching streaks of black and red. Before he could react, the first message appeared on the screen with a distorted nightmarish tone that made his skin crawl. 

¿D̸͖͘ḭ̶̽d̶̼̽ ̶͍͝y̵̡̽o̵̟̕u̴̓ really think y̷̤̌o̵u woü̴ld get͈ aw̵̘̕ȃ̵̭y ̶͑with it?

Rafayel's heart pounded in his chest as he read the message. His mind raced, trying to figure out who could have sent it and what they were talking about. He tried to reply, but the phone screen glitched again before he could even type a response. What in the- a loud crash came from outside the studio. He froze for a moment, listening intently for any other sounds. Footsteps crunched on the gravel pathway, unnervingly deliberate and purposeful until they stopped just outside the glass sliding door.

Rafayel's nerves were shot at this point and he couldn't take it anymore. Fuck this. I’m outta here. He grabbed his keys and bolted out of the studio through his front door. As soon as he stepped outside though, everything went black.

Rafayel awoke handcuffed to an ornate dining chair. The room around him was draped in opulence, with rich red and black accents that seemed to seep into every corner. The dining table in front of him was laden with an extravagant feast. Glossy, decadent dishes that seemed almost too beautiful to touch, flanked by champagne flutes that caught the dim light and reflected it back with an eerie glimmer.

Dizziness gripped him, making everything appear fragmented. A groan escaped Rafayel's lips as he struggled to clear the haze from his vision. “Ah, you’re awake,” came a seductive, gravelly voice. “I was beginning to worry you’d miss the fun.”

Rafayel's eyes widened in shock as he recognized the voice. His blood ran cold as his vision gradually cleared. Across the table sat the suffocating presence of his past. A towering white haired man, alluring and intimidating in equal measure, watched him with piercing red eyes that cut through the haze with unnerving clarity. It was Sylus, his former captor and tormentor. Memories of his time with Sylus flooded back into Rafayel's mind, causing him to shudder involuntarily. He struggled against the restraints holding him down but they were too tight. He looked around frantically for a way out but there seemed to be none.

Sylus leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk on his face as he watched Rafayel's panic. "You see," Sylus began, picking up a glass of whiskey and swirling it thoughtfully before taking a sip. "I have my ways of finding what is mine." His eyes gleamed dangerously at the last word. "And now that you're back where you belong," he continued softly, setting down the glass and steepling his fingers under his chin "we can finally catch up on old times."

"You can't keep me here," Rafayel spat at Sylus, trying to sound brave despite feeling terrified inside. "I'm not your pet anymore."

Sylus's lips twitched into a smirk at Rafayel's defiance. He found it amusing how the younger man tried to stand up to him, even when he was so clearly trapped. "Oh really?" he asked, leaning forward slightly. "And what makes you think that you are even worthy of being my pet? After all, I could have any Lemurian I please." His eyes raked over Rafayel hungrily before settling back on his face. There was something almost playful about Sylus now; a dangerous game where only one could win and lose simultaneously.

Rafayel gritted his teeth at the condescending tone in Sylus's voice. He refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he had suffered during his captivity. "I don't know what you're talking about," Rafayel replied, trying to sound as confident as possible despite feeling like a trapped animal. "I've moved on from that part of my life."

Sylus chuckled softly at Rafayel's attempt to deny their past. He could see the fear in his eyes, even though he tried so hard to hide it. "Moved on?" he repeated incredulously, shaking his head slightly as if disappointed by such naivety. "You can run from me all you want but remember this; I always find what is mine." His gaze lingered on Rafayel for a moment before looking away dismissively.

Rafayel's stomach churned at the thought of being used by Sylus again. He had spent years trying to forget about their past together, but it seemed like he was doomed to relive it all over again. "I won't let you touch me," Rafayel said firmly, his voice shaking slightly with fear and anger. "I'd rather die than be your plaything again."

Sylus raised an eyebrow at Rafayel's defiance. He found it amusing how the younger man thought he could resist him. "Is that so?" he asked, with a smirk on his face. "And what makes you think that death is preferable to being mine?" His eyes gleamed dangerously as if daring Rafayel to try and escape once more. Rafayel knew damn well that death by his hands would be excruciatingly slow and sadistic.

Sylus leaned back in his chair and studied Rafayel with an unreadable expression, his piercing red eyes simmering beneath an icy veneer. The tension between them thickened, coiling in the air like a predator waiting to strike. "You know damn well you fucked me, Rafayel," Sylus growled, his voice low and dangerous. "We made a deal."

Rafayel felt the room closing in around him as the words sank like lead into his chest. His mouth went dry, but he kept his gaze locked on Sylus, refusing to show the fear gnawing at him from within.

Sylus's lips curled into a humorless smile as he continued. "You signed your rights away willingly, willingly," he repeated, as though tasting the bitterness of the betrayal on his tongue. “And still, you had the audacity to screw me over and everything we built together." The sound of glass cracking rang out as Sylus’s hand tightened around the delicate crystal in his grip. A hairline fracture splintered through the whiskey glass, but he paid it no mind, his focus solely on Rafayel.

For a brief moment, Rafayel saw something else in Sylus’s eyes, a flicker of something raw, almost pained, beneath the anger. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by the cold, unyielding mask of control. Sylus leaned forward, the broken glass cutting into his palm. He didn’t flinch. “It’s time to pay your debt.”

Rafayel's heart pounded in his chest. Debt. The word hung between them, charged with unspoken meaning. He knew exactly what Sylus meant, what he wanted. But Rafayel refused to bow to the weight of that word. Not again.

"You think this is about some deal we made?" Rafayel spat, the tremble in his voice betraying his rising fear. "You don't own me, Sylus. Whatever I signed, it was under duress. You manipulated me, cornered me until I had no choice!"

Sylus's expression darkened, his red eyes narrowing into slits. He stood slowly, the fractured glass slipping from his hand and shattering on the floor. “I gave you everything, Rafayel. Freedom, power, a life beyond the chains of Lemuria, the civilization that you single-handedly destroyed. I shielded you from the guilt and sorrow of the mess you made. I saved you. And in return, you betrayed me.”

Rafayel felt a surge of anger flood his veins. “Betrayed you? You imprisoned me, Sylus. You never gave me freedom. You twisted it to your liking, made me believe I owed you my life. But I was never free, not for a second. I was just your exotic pet!”

A cold, sharp laugh escaped Sylus, his towering form looming over the table now. “Oh, Rafayel...You still don’t understand, do you?” His voice, rich with malice and something darker, sent a shiver crawling down Rafayel’s spine. Rafayel's breath quickened as Sylus drew closer, his steps echoing ominously through the grand room.

As the handsome predator approached, Rafayel’s senses were overwhelmed. Sylus’s presence was intoxicating, his cologne thick with the unmistakable scent of Lemurian aphrodisiacs. It hit Rafayel like a wave, dulling his resistance as an involuntary heat coursed through him. His lips parted, and to his horror, he realized he was already salivating. He clenched his jaw, forcing his body to fight the effect. “S-stop…get away from me,” Rafayel choked out, his voice trembling, but the defiance was still there, buried beneath the fear and the unnatural pull he felt toward Sylus. His words felt weak, powerless, swallowed by the overwhelming presence of the man closing in on him.

Sylus smiled deliberately as if savoring Rafayel’s struggle. He leaned in, his eyes glowing with that same predatory hunger as he reached out, his fingers brushing against Rafayel’s cheek. The touch was feather-light but burned with an intensity that made Rafayel flinch. The blood that had been oozing from Sylus’s palm moments ago seemed to vanish, the gash knitting together in front of Rafayel’s wide eyes as if his very flesh bent to Sylus’s will.

“There’s no escaping what’s real, Rafayel,” Sylus whispered, his voice softening into something almost tender, a cruel contrast to the situation. “Your debt...it was never just about the deal.” He paused, letting the words settle like a weight on Rafayel’s chest. “It’s about us.”

Rafayel’s heart hammered as Sylus’s hand slid from his cheek to his jaw, tilting his face upward so their eyes locked. The red in Sylus’s gaze gleamed with a dangerous mix of desire and dominance. “What we had, Rafayel...you felt it. You know it was real.”

Rafayel gritted his teeth, fighting the haze clouding his thoughts, his body betraying him under the effects of the Lemurian drugs and the unnerving pull of Sylus’s power. “You twisted everything...it was never real,” he hissed, though even as he said the words, there was a crack in his voice. It had been real and he couldn't even deny it to himself. But what Sylus wanted, what he took, couldn’t have been love.

Sylus’s lips quirked into a smirk, his thumb brushing along Rafayel’s lower lip with unsettling intimacy. “You keep telling yourself that, but deep down, you know. What we shared, it was more than just control. You gave yourself to me because you wanted to. And I...gave you everything.” The warmth in Sylus’s voice was laced with venom, a seductive, dangerous edge that made Rafayel’s skin crawl.

Reality was more terrifying than the delusion Rafayel had spun for so long. He could not accept that maybe, just maybe, there had been something mutual in the twisted relationship. Sylus hadn’t always manipulated him, hadn’t always warped his mind until nothing felt certain except the suffocating weight of his power. Rafayel had willingly swam into the angler fish’s trap again and again and again.

[yosh-iro]

wikihow to make people not hate you

[ectoplasmer]

rgrhrgrhgr going insane thinking about how I have felt so much love and affection for a character from a card game anime of all things!! for over two years!!! one of the most frustrating guys ever nonetheless!!!!

[unceeled]

gojo satoru has you all covered. they were not joking when they said that this man would serve and protect because not a single thing touches you, ever. and gojo satoru is proud of that, that's what he's good at: being your personal shield.

and yet, even if he were to extend his infinity to you at every hour of the day, the one thing gojo satoru could not protect you from is getting sick.

then and there, the strongest one forgets how to act. this was not something he could fight off, something he could exorcise. no. but he felt helpless watching you squirm and curl up into a ball, sneezing and coughing on your bed.

he'd do everything in his power to take care of you, of course. but it was fidgety, at best. he never got sick growing up; he wasn't aware of the procedures of this all. so... he googled.

what else was he meant to do? you refused to eat, you were coughing up something, you were shivering, your temperature extremely high, and more things he truly did not want to think that you were going through. still, it was those same things that found their way to the google search bar as gojo satoru looked desperately for anything that could make your shivering figure feel better.

comfort was the last thing he got from his trip to the internet, however. the text on his screen informed him of the demise you'd supposedly face at this rate. you were gonna get worse and he was gonna lose the light of his life... is how he understood the search result.

after spending the whole afternoon napping, you finally stir awake feeling a cool towel on your head and something dripping on your hand. you blink the sleep away for a few more moments, eyes finally focusing on the sniffling figure holding your hand.

"toru, what's going on?" you squeeze his hand back lightly. you hear an almost theatrical gasp matched with widened blue eyes and immediately become engulfed in big bulky arms.

"i thought i was gonna lose you." he sniffs, nuzzling his face in your neck. you're left puzzled but return the hug nonetheless. "what made you think that?" satoru pulls away and examines your face. "baby, it felt like you were dying on me," he exclaims, still cupping your face.

"toru, it was probably just the flu-" you are interrupted by a cough that erupts from your throat.

"see! this is what google said would happen!"

"google? satoru gojo, you consulted google? and that's why you were crying?"

"next time i'll just exorcise every germ in this world."

"if you say so, baby"

[random-shit-writing]

when you go to the eye doctor and they shine a bunch of bright lights in your eyes, and then they scan your eyes with a weird lazer, and suddenly you can't see jack shit and everything is blurry. and then you have basically no vision for over an hour, and even then, several hours later, your pupils are extremely dilated, and both are different sizes.

like, forget being scared of the dentist, i had a new fear unlocked today 😭

[gurugirl]

Sex Tutor

Summary: Harry's got a reputation on campus and you're curious to know if he can help you.

A/N: Requested! Thank y'all for being patient with me! Hope you enjoy! This will be 2 parts!!

Word Count: 10k

Warning: smut (oral sex), fluff, praise kink

. . .

“Yeah… that was good. I liked it.”

That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping to get. You thought Gunther would be a lot more enthusiastic after coming in your mouth and you swallowing him down. You gave it your best work. You even choked a couple of times and you did hear him moan once or twice. But that didn’t feel like enough

You wanted to ask him exactly what went wrong. Tips on what he liked and didn’t. What you could do better next time… But instead, he just smiled and kissed your cheek, avoiding your mouth because obviously kissing the lips that had just sucked his cock would be gross.

So you left his dorm feeling a little disappointed in yourself. Annoyed really. You wished you were more bold and could just ask him what he wanted, what he liked most. You complained to your roommate even. She loved giving advice so you were always venting to her.

“Well, you know there’s like this guy on campus who will walk you through that kind of thing… a sex tutor if you will. Let’s just say that he comes highly recommended. I know someone who hung out with him a few times, and she learned so much about her body and how good sex could feel without coming but he always made her come every time, and no man has ever done that to her before she told me.”

“A tutor for blow jobs?” You scrunched your face and giggled.

“Well, blow jobs and everything else really. I don’t know. He gets around and they say he’s very knowledgeable about the body and sex. I think he’s like getting his masters in sexual health or something?”

You shoved at her shoulder and laughed, “Oh my god I don’t think so. That sounds crazy. He’s probably some weird pervert or something.”

Your roommate turned her cellphone screen to face you, showing you an Instagram page with a photo of a very attractive young man you’d seen on campus a time or two.

“That’s him?” Your eyes widened as you looked from the photo to your roommate.

“Yup. He’s not a weirdo either. I hear he’s super respectful and smart. Plus the bonus is that he looks like this.”

You nodded. That certainly was a bonus. Harry Styles. You knew about him from the student council. He did a lot of volunteering on campus and he was a graduate student so you didn’t know him all that well, being only a sophomore yourself, but it was hard not to at least know the name and the face. He was popular. Clearly far more popular than you even realized.

And you definitely weren’t going to reach out for a “session”. That just felt silly. Though, you couldn’t say you weren’t intrigued by the idea, it just wasn’t for you. Except that when Gunther didn’t text or call you back for three full days, the whole time you wondered if your blow job was that bad. So when he did finally text you back to make plans for the following week, you felt like you were being given another chance to prove how good you could be. And maybe a lesson or two could be useful.

Reaching out to him via DMs on Instagram felt so unserious but you still did it. You cringed as you hit send and read over your message three times.

Hi! I heard you give special “tutoring” sessions and wanted to know if you have some time to meet with me to set something up? Let me know if it’s okay.

You couldn’t believe you were doing this, reaching out to a stranger for, basically, a booty call. But apparently he was used to it and had no qualms about responding to you in less than thirty minutes. As if he was running some kind of business.

Hi! Happy to meet up with you either tonight or Friday night. The initial meeting should only take like 20 minutes, somewhere public so you feel comfortable. I’ll ask you a few questions and then we’ll set up a private one-on-one session together if it makes sense for both of us. No pressure ever. Whenever you’re ready.

Private one-on-one session. You rolled your eyes as you read over Harry’s response.

Tonight is good for me if you can fit me in. Whatever time you want.

You didn’t know what to expect. You imagined he was cocky since he was apparently so good and sought after. Perhaps he would take one look at you and turn around. You were sure he had a say in who he “tutored”. Doubted he took on every single person who reached out to him.

Your roommate said he was respectful but you would place money on the fact that he was probably full of himself, being that he was a self-proclaimed Sex Guru. You were preparing yourself for someone with a larger-than-life personality.

You kept your outfit casual, not wanting to look like you were trying too hard. Jeans and a hoodie. Though you did shower and put on nice panties and made sure you smelled good. Just in case. One never knows when they are due to visit with a sex tutor.

Maud’s was one of your favorite spots on campus. They had the best iced matcha latte and that’s just what you ordered yourself when you arrived. You sat down at a small table and faced toward the door so you could keep an eye out.

You were looking down at your cell phone when you heard the chime of the door. Flitting your eyes up and away from the screen of your phone you scanned the entry and spotted him right away.

He was wearing a black pullover hoodie and jeans. His hair all tousled like he’d just finished a “tutoring” session. You raised your hand to wave at him and catch his attention and he grinned as you stood up but he gestured for you to stay seated, “I’ll be right back. Just gonna order a drink.”

You were already feeling hot and embarrassed. God, what were you doing? The man was sex on legs and that deep, raspy voice he just spoke to you with had your insides twisting and turning all mushy.

When he returned he had an iced tea and he sat across from you. The smile on his face was kind. Open. It set you at ease a bit.

He took a sip through his straw and you noted the rings on his fingers and the nail polish on his nails, “So, Y/n. It’s nice to meet you in person. What are you majoring in?”

Okay. Small talk. You could handle that.

You told him your classes and what you were majoring in and then asked him the same and when he explained he was going for his doctorate in psychology with the intent to become a sex therapist you felt your heart thump wildly. He was gorgeous and going for a doctorate. The man was so beyond out of your league that you wondered why he was even sitting at that table with you entertaining this silly request of yours.

“Wow. That’s… I’m impressed.”

He grinned and you saw a dimple carve into his cheek, “Thank you. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am. Still working, though. So let’s talk about what you want. What things are you interested in getting some guidance on?”

Here it was. The moment you’d been dreading. But also what you were most curious about.

“Well, I’m seeing this guy and,” you took a breath. It was embarrassing to say it so casually at a café on campus of all places.

Harry reached toward you and placed his warm palm over the top of yours, “Hey, I know this feels weird. Doing this. I’m not going to pressure you to say it if you find it’s too uncomfortable but just know,” he dipped his head down to meet your gaze with his brows gently raised, “Everything you tell me here will be kept confidential and private. I’m not going to make fun of you or compare you to anyone else. If you change your mind, that’s okay too. I want you to feel like you’re talking to a friend. Okay? It’s up to you how much or how little you say. We move at your pace.”

You let out the breath you were holding and smiled. He was so – nice. He made you feel so at ease.

“Thank you. It’s weird. Yeah… but I think I’m okay. I want to do this. I want to be better at like,” you looked around yourself and lowered your voice as Harry moved his hand from yours and you settled your gaze back on his, “Better at giving blow jobs. And maybe like initiating more?”

He nodded, “Okay. Have you ever given a blow job before?”

You nodded, “Recently. The guy didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it so I didn’t know if I did something wrong.”

He took a sip of his tea and his green irises bored into yours, “I can tell you one thing I know that is true for nearly every single male I know; they love getting head. Even if he wasn’t vocal he probably really enjoyed whatever you did. Does that make you feel better about your skill level?”

You puffed out a laugh and saw the smirk on his face. He was trying to get you to smile, “I don’t know. Probably. I’m sure I’m overthinking it but I just wanted… like I want to be really good. Want to know tricks to get a real response.”

“Did the guy you’re seeing orgasm?”

You nodded again.

Harry’s grin softened, “Then you did as good as you could have. Goal achieved. He orgasmed and you made that happen.”

“But I want to be better. Like… I really enjoyed what I was doing. Made me really… well…” you looked down at your empty mug and sighed, “I felt like I enjoyed it more than he did.”

He nodded and licked his lips and if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was kind of checking you out. You weren’t wearing anything revealing but he seemed to keep dropping his gaze to your lips and neck. But you figured that was because he was still getting used to your face and he was sussing you out a bit to see if he wanted anything to do with you beyond this conversation.

But that was true. He was checking you out. He saw your Instagram pictures before he contacted you (always his first step) and thought you were cute and wouldn’t mind seeing you in person. He certainly wasn't disappointed by you when he saw you either. You were cute and a little nervous and when you started talking about how you enjoyed giving that loser a blow job he couldn’t help but shift his eyes down to your mouth and imagine what your lips would look like on his cock. He wondered if you’d be just as eager to suck him off as you seemed like you were for the other guy.

Now, Harry was a polite and nice man. He was as respectful as they came. But he was still a man with a very high sex drive and he couldn’t help it. He did enjoy having sex and he got a lot of ass because he was good at what he did. And he was under no allusion that it also didn’t have anything to do with how attractive he was. Because of course, it did. He was aware of the way women looked at him and all the whispers about him on campus. And most of the time the sessions were just fun sex more than anything else. However, he happily gave guidance when needed.

And this time he was feeling pretty gung-ho to see what you could do. He’d like to get started right away, which normally he’d wait until after the initial meeting before jumping into it but there was something about the way you were looking at him, your eyes hungry and inviting…

You watched Harry shift in his chair and look around the café before he looked back at you, “What are you doing right now? Like after this?”

“Oh… nothing. Was gonna read a little, prep for a test I have on Monday. But…” you shook your head.

“Would you be interested in going somewhere more private? My studio is at the off-campus university apartments. Twenty-minute walk from here.”

Was he…? You scrunched your brows, confused at the sudden invite to his place.

“It’s up to you. I’m not rushing you or anything I just have a free evening and you seem really enthusiastic and I’d like to kind of get a feel for what we’re working with. If you think you’re ready.”

You nodded, “Okay. I mean… yeah. So no roommates?” You laughed nervously as he stood up and it was the first time you let your attention fall to the space at his crotch, to which you quickly bobbed your eyes back up to his face as you stood.

“Nope. Co-ed apartments. No roommate. Super private.” He didn’t miss the way you scraped your eyes over his torso and down to the spot on his jeans where his zipper was.

So that was that then. You’d be getting a lesson sooner than you imagined. And when you walked the twenty minutes through campus and the street that was just adjacent to the cafeteria you could almost hear your heart pounding. He was taller than you expected. He easily kept the conversation alive with small talk. He seemed so confident and easygoing. You tried to let that charisma and charm soak through your veins so that you weren’t as nervous as you felt, but it was impossible. You were about to go into Harry Style’s apartment alone and probably give him a blow job.

Harry waved at a few people on your way up to his floor. He was clearly popular. You wondered if anyone knew what might be happening. Why you were with him and why you were following behind him like you were a pup being trained and he was carrying a treat.

“Here she is,” he opened his door and gestured for you to walk inside. Neat and tidy with stacks of books and lots of plants. Some plants hanging, most potted, and on the floor or on tables. You noted he had no television and that there was a big partition that separated the small living space from what was probably where he had his bed. The kitchen was organized with open shelving and he’d bought a wire rack and it was stacked full of packaged foods, spices, oil, and other things to cook with at the top and at the bottom with pots and pans and a blender with its cord neatly wrapped around the base.

He excused himself to the bathroom while you looked around. There wasn’t anywhere to go really. There were two doors in the whole place. The bathroom door and another one, which you assumed was a closet. The kitchen area was open to the small living space.

When Harry emerged he sat down on the couch, which looked well-worn. You wondered how many people he’d had over and on that very couch. He sat with his legs spread and drew his arms over the back of the couch and just watched as you stepped in closer toward the small coffee table, “I like all the plants,” you commented.

He nodded and you clasped your hands behind your back in wait for what would happen next. You didn’t want to look again at his crotch. But the way he was sitting made it hard. He took up so much space on that couch and with his legs spread open like they were, it was almost as if he wanted you to.

“Gonna sit with me? I’m not gonna do anything if you don’t want.”

You nodded and sat down, keeping your limbs close to your body and separate from him. You didn’t want to invade his space or get in too close. Not yet anyway. Not until he invited you. Or rather, until he told you what to do next.

“Everything I said at Maud’s still stands. If you change your mind that’s fine. I’m not going to be mad.”

You turned to look at him and swallowed. The guy was out of this world. Simply delicious looking. “Okay.” You spoke in barely above a whisper.

Harry leaned forward, putting his elbows over his knees as he kept his eyes on you, “Is this how you usually initiate?”

You raised your brows and shook your head, “What?”

“You said you wanted to be better at initiating. So far, I’m not getting any signals that you’re interested. Could be your first problem. Try relaxing a little, Y/n. Sit back and unhook your fingers. Loosen your shoulders. Not only will you feel more settled, but you’ll make the person with you feel better too. Which could push you to naturally begin conversation or movements that encourage contact.”

“Oh. Okay,” you sat back into his couch and loosed your hands, relaxing your posture, and looked at him, “Like this?”

Harry grinned and let out a small laugh, “Perfect. Now at least it appears you’re not scared of me.”

“I’m not scared,” you quickly shook your head.

“I didn’t think you were. But your body language was giving closed-off signals. Which could appear to some like fear or discomfort.”

It made sense you guessed.

“I see. So, relax and it makes everyone feel better.”

He grinned, “So tell me what normally happens when you’re with someone and it leads to something sexual. Set the scene for me.”

You cleared your throat and decided to use your last time with Gunther as the example.

“Well, we were in his dorm room listening to music and laughing about something–“

“Back up a little. Did you invite yourself to his room? Did he invite you? What happened before you got to his room?”

“Oh, uh…” you pursed your lips in thought. “Well, we were out with two mutual friends. At a bar. Gunther, his name is Gunther, he was kind of flirting with me and I liked it. We didn’t really know each other all that well before but I always found him interesting. And so… he was flirting with me. Complimenting me. Things like that. Then he asked me to go back to his room with him. So, I sort of figured something would happen,” you shrugged. You didn’t know why it was so weird telling him all those details but it was.

You recounted how Gunther had made all the moves; kissed you first, groped you and then somehow it ended up with you sucking him off while he laid back on his bed and you were between his legs.

“And… he didn’t return the favor? Like you didn’t get anything?”

You shook your head, “I mean, I didn’t ask. He got off and then that was it really. I left not long after.”

Harry frowned, “Okay. And did you hope he’d do something in return? Like, use his hands or his mouth on you? Did you want more?”

Another shrug of your shoulders, “I mean… I didn’t expect it. Thought maybe next time we could do more? I don’t know.”

“You didn’t expect it. But would you have liked it?”

Nodding your head you looked away from his eyes, “I guess.”

“Did it turn you on?”

Another embarrassing thing to admit to someone you hardly knew. You nodded again, “It just all happened really quickly. I kind of thought things would take longer and we’d chat and maybe he’d have me stay longer and then… well anyway. It was like a total of thirty minutes or something that I was in his room.”

Harry sighed and crossed his leg over his thigh toward you, “And you really want to give Gunther the best head you can? The guy who wasn’t worried about your own needs? Seems very selfless of you, Y/n.”

You let out a breath and laughed, “I know. I just want to be good at it. And that was the first time we did anything so I figured I’d give him a pass.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you. Gunther is lucky you’re still willing to give him another shot.”

“I guess I thought if I was better he’d want to do it more and maybe then we could do other things too.”

“I’m going to be honest, Y/n,” Harry stretched his arm across the back of the couch, “You’re very cute and you probably won’t need to worry much about initiating most of the time. Like, for me, all you have to do is look at me with those pretty eyes and I’m ready to do whatever you want me to.”

It had been a surprise to hear that. You weren’t sure what to do with that information but you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you looked down at your lap.

“But a good start is to keep eye contact. At least enough to indicate interest. Can you look at me?”

Lifting your gaze to his he grinned, “There we go. So pretty.”

You shook your head, “I’m sure you say that to everyone.”

Harry lifted his hand to your cheekbone, “No. I don’t. And I don’t do this with just anyone either. Sometimes I turn down a request. I don’t tell them why but… There’s gotta be attraction on my end as well. And I find you very attractive, Y/n.”

You swallowed down the saliva in your throat and blinked for a break in eye contact before biting your lip.

“Now, even though we’re here for one thing, I do have opinions on matters of the heart and relationships. And frankly, I have to be honest about this Gunther, guy,” he dropped his hand, making his fingers brush down your cheek until he was no longer touching you, “I don’t like that he didn’t offer to get you off too. That’s a big red flag in my book. I feel it’s important to give and to receive unless it’s explicitly stated at the beginning. But you told me you thought you’d get more. And that bothers me.”

“Well, he’s a nice guy. I think he just wasn’t thinking…”

“He wasn’t thinking about your needs. That was selfish of him and something to watch out for. We can give him a pass for the first time, but if you see him again and he still doesn’t think about your needs, I’d hope you’d end that relationship and seek someone who’s willing to be less selfish with you.”

It surprised you that Harry was saying that about Gunther. But perhaps he was right. You did leave his dorm that night quite disappointed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I know you barely know me but that’s just my take. I’d never not offer to return the favor,” he kept his eyes on yours and you swore his lips were suddenly a shade darker. They looked like the perfect lips to kiss.

He grinned when he noted where your eyes were homed in on, “Do you mind coming closer? Feels like you're still too far away.”

You puffed out a nervous laugh as you scooted your bottom in closer toward Harry. His arm was draped over the back of the couch behind you and you felt the warmth of him before you felt his fingers graze the back of your neck.

 “So, I can kiss you? Can we start there?”

You breathed out through your nose and smiled as you nodded and kept your face angled toward his. He watched as you hesitantly put your palm on his knee and he put his hand over yours, “You’re a natural. See?”

Another soft laugh fell from your mouth as Harry’s face drew in closer to yours and your heart stopped as he nudged his nose into yours and you felt his soft lips smush against yours.

It didn’t take long for you to start feeling that familiar heat between your legs as he ran his tongue against yours. It felt so intimate… not like a tutor lesson or anything of the sort. It was you and a handsome man making out on his couch as he pulled you onto his lap. It felt real.

For some reason, you imagined it being a little more dry. Like a real lesson. Like he’d pull his pants down and tell you what to do and show you what he liked and what really made men go wild. You hadn’t imagined kissing being part of the equation for some reason.

“Did he tell you how soft your lips are or how those sweet little noises coming from your mouth drove him crazy?”

He spoke his words between kisses and you were going to pass out. Because no, Gunther gave you no compliments once you got into his dorm room.

You shook your head as you parted from the kiss, your eyes on his.

Harry’s eyes roved your face as he softly dragged his thumb back and forth on your jaw, “I don’t like him one bit. You deserve someone who’s going to tell you how good you are and how good you make them feel.”

He softly pressed his lips against yours again, the kiss heating up into a frenzied pace once again as you stuffed your fingers into his hair and then you felt the bulk of his erection under your thigh when you moved in closer.

Parting from the kiss you looked down and then back up at him and he just smiled. Like it was the most normal and natural thing ever. Which… it kind of was.

“Got me all hard already,” he slid his thumb from the edge of your bottom lip inward and you moaned, “Just like that. You’re already better than you think you are. You’re driving me crazy, Y/n. I want to see what these lips look like wrapped around my cock. Can we do that?”

You nodded and began to move off of him but Harry took your hand in his, making you pause, “I’ll let you get me off if you let me get you off too. Okay?”

Your eyes widened, “Really? I thought this was just for–“

“I have a method and it always includes getting the other person off too. Or at least making them feel good. Unless you don’t want that. That’s okay too, but I would prefer to touch you as well.”

“Okay,” your words were breathy as he helped you off his lap, keeping your hand in his but then he stood up and you watched as he ran his free hand over his crotch, “Is it okay if we do it my bed? A little more space there. Think it’ll feel less rushed.”

Obviously yes. You wouldn’t dream of saying no to this man. Not that you wanted to.

The space behind the partition was just a bed and one side table. His bed was neatly made and there was a plant hanging by the opening of the partition. He gestured for you to follow him onto his mattress and he placed his back at the wall, where he had no headboard.

Kneeing up to him you were feeling shy again and he leaned forward and cupped your face with one hand, “You’re doing so good. If you need to stop at any time just say the word. I’m not here to make you do something you don’t want. Okay?”

You nodded, “Yeah. I know. I trust you.”

“Good. Just wanted to remind you is all. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep going even if I’m enjoying it, which I have a feeling I’m gonna like whatever you do to me.”

You giggled and nodded. He was fluffing up your ego and you hadn’t even really gotten started yet.

Harry started to push his jeans down, lifted his hips to get them off his legs, and then kept his eyes on you as he held his hand out for you to take, “Come here.”

You put your hand in his and let yourself get pulled between his legs as you looked down at the sizable lump under his boxer briefs, “Can we take your jeans off? Kind of want to have you in my lap a little while before we get down to it, yeah?”

You nodded and unhooked your button before pulling your zipper down. Harry’s hands found your hips as you tugged your jeans down and he helped you out of them, leaving you in just your hoodie and panties. Like Harry. He was just in his boxer briefs and his hoodie too.

You crawled into his lap, your thighs straddling his, and sat down as Harry smoothed his hands up and down your thighs, “There we go. This feels nice, having you close like this,” he ran his palms toward your bottom and then back down your thighs to your knees, “How are you feeling?”

You put your palms on his shoulders, “Good. Feel good. And you?”

“I’m feeling great. I’ve got you here in my lap,” he brought a hand up from your thigh to your face, his fingers sliding behind your ear with his thumb at your cheekbone, “And I like you. I think this’ll be fun. Just want you to feel at ease with me.”

You shifted on his lap, getting in closer, “I do feel at ease with you, Harry. You’re really nice.”

“Good. That’s what I want to hear,” his voice was soft as he gently pulled you towards him and pressed his mouth against yours again. His kiss was soft and sultry. Harry was far more sensual than you imagined he would be. Lots of soft touches and reassuring words. And his mouth against yours was addictive.

You moaned when his thumb ran along the edge of your panties at your thigh and you rocked your hips down, pressing your panties-covered pussy over his erection.

He inhaled softly through his teeth and lowered his mouth to your neck where you were melted into him. His warm mouth sponged wet kisses down your pulse point as you lowered a hand to the top of his cock.

He sighed when you began to rub your palm over him and you began to move back. You were ready to get him in your mouth.

“You can bring me out if you want. Or I can do it. Whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

You bit your lip and continued palming over him as you kept your gaze focused on his, “I’ll do it. Do guys like that more?”

He grinned and the dimples that carved into his cheeks had you swooning, “Yeah. Maybe. Depends on the guy but it can feel like the girl is really excited, like she can’t wait – the enthusiasm is nice. For me? I do like it more. But honestly, I wouldn’t complain if you wanted me to do it myself.”

You nodded in understanding as you focused on the dark green material of his underwear and reached toward the waistband. You looked up at him once more to check in and he just gave you a singular nod to keep going so you did.

The material was warm and stretchy. And you loved the way it felt to run your palm up the length of him, before peeling the fabric away and slowly revealing his cock. His tip was thick and smooth and dark pink. And then his shaft was girthy, quite meaty really, but so stiff. And when you’d pulled his underwear down far enough you took the whole of him in and it was… well it was a bit overwhelming. There was no way on God’s green earth you’d be able to stick that whole thing in your mouth.

“You don’t have to have it all in there. This isn’t a porno. I don’t need you to choke on it or anything like that. Use your hands and your mouth, as long as it’s nice and wet it’s gonna feel really good.”

You nodded. It was a relief that he wasn’t expecting you to deepthroat that thing, “Do you like it when someone can take it all the way?”

Harry breathed a laugh out of his nostrils, “Well… only if the person giving head likes that kind of thing. I would never enjoy it if someone wasn’t into that. But yes. I do rather like it. Not more than any other type of blow job, though.”

You gulped and continued palmed at his length softly. Harry kept his eyes on you to watch how you’d do it. To see what your go-to move was and when you made no move he finally spoke, “Go in however you want. Let’s see how you normally go about giving a blow job.”

“Okay. Yeah…” You took a deep breath and lowered yourself down as he fixed his feet flat on the mattress with knees bent upward, making space for you to fit between his thighs. First, you spat over his tip and used your hand to rub your saliva down his shaft. A quick glance up at him and he looked like he was enjoying it.

After spitting another glob over his slit that clung to your lips a little longer than it did the first time things were feeling much wetter. You stroked along the full length of his cock, from base to tip, tip to base, and back again as you lowered further, getting your lips just over his tip, and looked up at him, swiping your tongue over his crown. Smooth and warm. Adjusting your hips you got into a better position and gripped his base with both hands as you began to take him in your mouth. Your tongue cupped the underside of his cock as you dipped down and pulled up, suckling at his tip before repeating.

Harry’s fingers gently pushed at your chin, “I’d like you to do one thing for me, Y/n…” your eyes shot up to his, “Can you keep your eyes on me, just like you’re doing right now?”

You pulled off and nodded, “Yeah. Sorry.”

Harry tutted at you, “You didn’t do anything wrong. Just really fond of your pretty eyes. Personal preference is all.”

Keeping your gaze on his you kissed his tip softly and slowly before tonguing at his frenulum. It was a good thing you were looking at him in that moment because the expression on his face as you ran your tongue along the underside of his cockhead was lascivious and the sudden heat between you two might not have been noticed if you hadn’t been looking at him.

When you lowered your lips over him again, hollowing your cheeks and cupping the underside of his dick with your tongue, he palmed over your cheek and softly thumbed at your temple, “Y/n… fuck… that’s really good. Keep looking at me like this pretty girl.”

The soft touch from his hand and thumb on your face was full of affection and made your heart thunder in your chest. It made you dizzy the way he was looking at you. It was such a lewd act but somehow filled with tenderness.

The drool that leaked out of your mouth and down his shaft allowed your hands to slip around his base, twisting as you bobbed over the first bit of him with your mouth. It seemed like he was really enjoying what you were doing. Having your eyes on him while you were doing it felt more encouraging than embarrassing.

And Harry was very much enjoying what you were doing. He wasn’t all that picky when it came to getting blow jobs. Why would he be? Some hot girl wanted him to show her how to be better? Well, he rarely did much in the way of making someone any better than they already were.

Harry never intended to be known as a sex tutor or a sex guru. He was just a guy who loved sex. A guy who was patient and who really did care about the person he was with, even if it was just a one-time thing (which most of them were). And his line of studies gave him insight many lacked. The more he slept around (safely) the better he got and the more he understood. He put into practice the things he learned in his classes and when he was a Junior after a string of hookups with a group of very popular seniors he started to get a reputation.

It started with comments and discussions on the size of his cock. Then it eventually escalated to him being very good in bed. And how he could always make a woman come (he didn’t always make them come but he certainly tried and he learned the art of allowing sex to just be something that felt good and intimate and didn’t have to end in that elusive orgasm every time).

The first girl who was bold enough to ask him if he’d help her get to know her body better, had told him how she heard he was the best… and that had caught off guard. But he gave it a go. And he wound up enjoying the whole thing so much that when another girl asked him for help he decided there was no harm in going along with it.

He wasn’t trying to take advantage of anyone, as some jealous of his prowess would make it seem. No, he just really wanted to help, he loved that connection and to have it end with sex (in whatever form) was never a bad thing. Mostly he was just having fun and if he could use some of his knowledge and give someone confidence by the end of a “session” then so be it.

When you sucked around him, slurping noises came from between your lips and the skin on his shaft and he moaned, “Oh that’s good…” He gently placed a hand at the back of your neck and nudged his hips upward the slightest when he felt his cock start to throb and balls tightened.

Harry pulled at you to bring you up so you slid your lips from his tip and looked at him with pretty rounded eyes as you sat on your knees.

“You’re perfect. If I had you sucking me off like this every day I’d have no complaints. That’s the work of someone who’s into it and I can tell you are. Got me so close to coming already,” he took your hand and kissed the tops of your knuckles. Yeah, you were already smitten with him. But maybe that was just because you liked his praise so much.

“Thank you,” you grinned shyly.

Harry took the hand he kissed and brought it down between his legs, sliding your fingers on the underside of his balls, “There’s this spot right here. Kind of smooth. Feel that?”

You nodded.

“It’s called the perineum. This spot,” he pressed the pad of your middle finger over the area of skin, “Feels really good when you rub it gently. Especially while you’re also giving a blow job. Maybe take my balls in your palm a little to massage them and then move to the perineum. Just about any man you suck off is gonna absolutely love it. It’s also a really good trick when you just want the guy to come already, ‘cause maybe he’s taking too long,” he grinned.

He dragged your hand up to cup his scrotum and you kept your eyes on his as you softly squeezed. Harry’s brows narrowed and his lips parted, “Let’s do that yeah? Wanna give it a go?”

Nodding, you lowered yourself again, your lips parting around his crown as you gently massaged his balls and kept your eyes angled up toward his. You kept one hand at the base of his shaft and felt the full, warmth of his sac in your palm before you pulled off of his cock and dropped your lips down to his balls, kissing the skin all around and skimming your tongue through every crevice and wrinkle, wetting him on all sides.

You remembered you were supposed to be looking up at him and when you saw his face it only egged you on. His soft groan and pink puffy lips parted in lust with hooded eyes so you wound your tongue down further and pressed the tip of your wet muscle to the spot he called the perineum.

“Fuck! Yes…”

You liked that reaction. So you did it again and used your hand on his shaft to continue pumping him in long strokes as you pressed over the small strip of skin under his scrotum before you brought your tongue all the way up over his balls and to his base. The pre-come dripping from his tip made things wetter as you slid your palm over him.

You kept one finger on his perineum and then brought your mouth back over his cock and the desperate whimper that fell from his lungs made you feel giddy. You sucked him in and flicked your sight up to him but his eyes were closed. You could feel his legs trembling as your shoulder was pressed into his inner thigh. Gently you brought your hand over his scrotum and massaged as you worked his tip with your lips and tongue.

He placed both of his hands on either side of your head, “Y/n… yes… honey I’m gonna come. That’s so good. You’re so good for me… holy shit… where do you want me to come, huh?”

You were kind of amazed at how he was so melty and whimpery from the blow job you were giving him. You lifted and looked up at him, “Just come in my mouth. Want you to feel good.”

He nodded as he panted and you put your lips back on him, lowering down and sucking as you used your tongue to apply pressure to his crown. Continuing to play with his balls and peek up at him you saw the moment his face scrunched up and his lips dropped open wide. No sound came out at first but you tasted the first pump of his come down your throat and then felt his big cock throbbing against your tongue and it was the hottest blow job you’d ever given. And you weren’t even receiving… the reaction he gave you had you so turned on and so dizzy that you felt the need to take him deeper.

You forced yourself down further, feeling his tip nudging and spurting at the top part of your throat and you swallowed around him before sputtering slightly.

When he finally began to moan it was deep and throaty. His head was tilted back, facing the ceiling as he pumped into your mouth and down your throat. The hands he held at the side of your face were gentle and honestly? You were in heaven. You could do this with him every day if he let you.

And you tried not comparing Gunther to Harry but it was hard. Harry was so masculine and his cock was prettier and much bigger. With Gunther, you could almost take all of him in your mouth without much issue. You didn’t but you probably could have. Harry was a different story. His big cock filled up all the space in your mouth and he smelled so good too. It was a mix of what you assumed was his natural smell with a clean powdery soap.

But it was the moans Harry was making that had you feeling so worked up. He really enjoyed your blow job and that was all you needed to feel good about yourself and your ability.

Harry’s moan quieted into a simper as you continued dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock until he lulled his head forward and looked down at you, “S’good. Fuck that was good.” He prodded at you to bring your mouth off of him and you sat back with a proud smile.

He leaned forward to pull at the back of your neck and smash his lips against yours. You clung onto his shoulders as he positioned you next to him on the bed on your bottom and then he ran his hands down your sides and pulled at your sweater, “Can we get this off?”

You gripped the bottom hem of your hoodie as Harry sat back and peeled his sweater off over his head, making you pause so you could devour his chest and his arms, and his abs with your eyes. The tattoos that were scattered over his body and on his arms were no surprise. You’d heard through the grapevine about his tattoos once your roommate told you about him. And you heard he was fit. But this? He was the perfect amount of muscled and beefy. He was lean but he appeared well-fed. Broad shoulders, pecs you could bite into…

You gulped when you felt Harry’s big hands smoothing up and down your limbs as he absorbed the sight of you before you finally pulled your sweater off and then unhooked your bra, holding the cups up against your breasts for a moment to make sure he was still in it. Because maybe your body would be a complete turn off but his expressive face did all the talking and he moved his hands up your hips as his irises roamed over your skin.

“So pretty, Y/n,” he spoke like he knew you needed the reassurance. Which you did. So you slowly lowered your bra and pulled the straps from your arms and almost immediately Harry ducked down and kissed your right nipple while his hand palmed at your left tit. He moaned against your soft flesh and you felt cool air hit your skin in the path where his tongue laved against you.

A soft gasp fell from your lips when he wrapped his mouth over your nipple and looked up at you from his spot, pink lips suckling at your breast. It was almost as if he needed to make sure he was doing what you liked. As if the man wasn’t some kind of expert.

Harry’s bulky body moved over you and his hands brushed over the skin at your sides and down to your hips where your panties clung tight. You lifted your hips, ready for him to take care of you, ready to have him pull the last bit of fabric from your body and Harry grinned at you.

“I’m gonna pull these down, okay?”

Nodding you laughed in slight nervousness. You weren’t sure when you’d gotten so eager but giving Harry a blow job had made you a bit insatiable and all of the nice things he said about you, how good you were... Your insides were aching and you knew you were probably already wet, the crotch of your panties was warm against your skin.

And as he slowly dragged the material down your legs he kept looking up at you. A little bit of reassurance that he was only going to go as far as you wanted.

Paying close attention to his eyes you watched him drag his gaze over all your crevices and then up to your tits and then your eyes as he licked his lips. He wrapped a hand on the underside of your calf, lifting your leg the smallest bit as he tucked himself in closer, his shoulders pressing into your thighs.

The warm, soft kisses he dotted on your inner thigh as he looked up at you made you feel worshiped. Like he was savoring the moment and was going to take his time with you.

“Y/n, I just want to make you feel good. Tell me if you don’t like something or if you need something more okay? Because you did so good for me and I’m gonna be dreaming about those lips on me. Just want to make you feel as good as good as you made me feel.”

Harry could tell you liked a bit of praise. A compliment here and there was easy enough to throw in because it was all true. You were very good and you were so pretty and now he was going to return the favor as best he could.

When you felt his tongue swipe up through your crease you moaned faintly as you kept your eyes on him. And when he dug in more, attached his lips to your pussy, and began sucking at you the groan that fell from his chest rumbled through your core and you held on to the back of his head as you arched your back off of the pillow under yourself. His lips slicked up and down, tongue pressing at your clit and then he moved, bringing his arm in and you felt his fingers prodding at your entrance as he looked up at you, pulling his mouth away from your pussy, “Tastes so good, Y/n. Could bury my face here all day long. You mind if I finger you a little? Would that feel good?”

He ran his digits through your folds like he already knew your answer and you nodded quickly, “Yeah. Okay. If you want.”

He grinned before you felt him push his middle finger past your opening and then he watched the face you made as he curled his finger up in your magic little spot. The one only your rabbit vibrator seemed to be able to hit.

You gasped and with that, he brought his lips back over your clit and got to work. His dark curls were smooth and thick between your fingers and the way he kept pulling his gaze up to yours as he licked into you was naughty. The whole scene was something from a dream. There was something so soft about how he kept his eyes on you to check-in.

You’d had a couple of guys go down on you before but they had no idea what they were doing and you weren’t sure if it was just supposed to feel like slippery nothing gliding over your labia or not. But now, with Harry doing the work… well you realized what it was actually meant to feel like. And Harry was not giving you slippery nothing.

He seemed to enjoy it as well which made your heart lurch in your chest. Especially with how he was moaning into you like you tasted good. And he had told you as much, which… that had you on edge already.

When Harry slid in a second finger he opened his mouth wide and tongued up from where his fingers were pumping into you to your clit.

You couldn’t help the pathetic moans that were loudly bouncing off the walls of his studio, “Oh god, Harry…”

But the thing that was really seeping into your skin and your veins and making your heart pound was his eyes on yours. You couldn’t get over it. It was so intimate and sexy and the gushy noises coming from your slippery pussy were lewd and dirty. It was the perfect juxtaposition of just nasty enough but also sweet and soft that had you spiraling.

When they tell you that the biggest part of getting turned on is all in the mind, that’s absolutely true. Harry was a master at it. You weren’t sure you’d ever been so turned on with any man before. He really knew which buttons to push and all the right things to say.

“Fuck, that’s good… holy shit, Harry…”

He loved hearing you whine his name and the feel of your hips bucking upward in tiny bursts. You were one of those girls that was going to have an orgasm, he just knew it. The way you kept getting wetter every time you shot your eyes down to his was a big telltale sign. Some didn’t like the eye contact but he loved it and so did you, clearly.

He moaned into your pussy and swallowed you down as he worked his tongue in teasing circles around your clit before wrapping his lips around you again and smushing down over you with just the right amount of pressure.

The arm he had under your thigh he wrapped under your lower back, pulling you in closer if that was possible, as he continued fingering you with his other hand. The man was unquenchable. Like he needed to stuff his face in as close as humanly possible. Like he needed to suck you dry and make it so that you never forgot his name.

Your insides were melting for him. His fingers were magic inside of you and it had your brain all fuzzed out and blurry. But the way he rolled your clit under his tongue was divine, otherworldly… he knew what he was doing with that big mouth of his.

You gasped and looked back down at him again and his eyes were already pinned to yours.

“Oh… gonna co… oh fuck, gonna come…” you felt like you were being lifted into the air, levitating and vibrating off the bed and out of the atmosphere as he kept his fingers and his tongue steady. But when he moaned deeply into your cunt, that low resonate sensation traveling from your clit to your core and through your tummy made you lose control.

You didn’t realize you were yanking his hair as your legs quaked and your body liquified under him. But it didn’t deter him. He watched you unravel, tits bouncing and back arching as you orgasmed into his mouth and he curled his fingers up against your g-spot as you clamped over his digits.

If he didn’t have his mouth occupied he would have praised you more in that moment. Told you how pretty you were and how good you did for him. But he waited until you began to slowly come back to earth before whispering into your ear the sweet things he knew you’d like to hear.

He laid next to you and grasped your face, kissing your lips softly as you sighed, “So fucking good. What a pretty orgasm that was, Y/n…” He spoke between kisses.

“Did that all for me? Yeah?”

You couldn’t answer him. Not in that moment. You’d just melted and dissolved and had only begun to re-solidify and become a real human with lungs and limbs and skin and pores again.

“You are really fun to eat out, Y/n. Tasted so nice and you sound so sexy when you come. You can call me anytime you need a release okay?” He continued kissing your cheek and your lips as he spoke softly.

Harry didn’t rush you out like you thought he might. He rubbed over your tummy and kissed your breasts softly and ran his lips up the side of your neck as you slowly opened your eyes and sighed.

“Feel okay?”

You nodded and smiled, “Really good.”

“Stay as long as you want. Okay? No rush. We can even grab dinner together if you want or I can make you something.” Harry wasn’t sure why he asked you that. While he didn’t usually rush anyone out, he didn’t typically offer food or dinner either. There was just something about you that compelled him to ask. Perhaps he hoped you’d stick around a bit longer.

You sat up, “Oh. That’s really nice of you. But… maybe I should probably head back. Get some schoolwork done.”

You’d have loved to stay for dinner but you also didn’t want to get your feelings mixed up for a guy like Harry. Not that there was anything wrong with him, but you understood what this was. A one-time thing. Something fun where you got to learn a thing or two. If you stuck around too long you’d probably just want more. And that would only end in heartbreak for you. Because Harry was kind of the ideal guy in a lot of ways.

“Of course. Just thought I’d ask.”

There were no hard feelings for this kind of thing. Harry wasn’t offended that you didn’t want to stay. He’d had a good time with you and he was almost certain you had a good time as well. And that was just about all one could ask for.

Harry let you use his bathroom to clean up and get dressed. And as you did so you thought about how Gunther didn’t even offer you anything to eat or to stay after. In fact he didn’t even ask if you wanted to use his bathroom, when that would have been nice after giving him head. Because even though Gunther didn’t really touch you, you were still wet, and walking back to your dorm with wet panties was not a nice feeling. Especially when you didn’t even get anything out of it.

You’d be wary of Gunther. You’d give him another shot because you were a nice girl but you weren’t going to ignore the concerns Harry had. Perhaps Harry was right.

When you stepped out of the bathroom Harry handed you a glass of water, “Drink a little before you head out, and what dorm do you live in?” He looked down at his phone as he asked.

“Oh… uh the Millennium dorms near the arts building.”

He nodded as you took a gulp of the water and he showed you his phone, “Uber will be here for you in three minutes. I’ll walk you down, okay?”

“Wait. You didn’t have to do that! Um… I can walk or get an Uber myself it’s–“

He shook his head and grinned, “I know I didn’t have to but it’s getting late. Don’t want you walking twenty minutes by yourself. Who knows what could be lurking out there,” he laughed.

You pointed at him, “Fine. But I’m gonna pay you back. Next time I see you okay?”

“Not necessary. Now come on,” he playfully swatted at your bottom and directed you toward his door, “Let’s go downstairs and wait for…” he looked at his phone, “Rebecca in a white Trail Blazer.”

PART 2

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[joszns]

first time for everything ✭

virgin!ellie x virgin!reader

cw: scissoring, some fingering, cuteness! ellie and fem!reader just being silly and sexy

today was the day.

you had showered, styled your hair, shaved, lotioned, the works.

a lacy set of lingerie was laid out by you, the thought of ellie seeing you in it making your heart flutter.

after putting it on, you stood in the mirror.

you admired your choice, the sheer floral pattern on the bra adorning your breasts and covering up just the right places, leaving a perfect amount to the imagination. a delicate silver heart bedazzled from the center of the bra, sparkling in the light of your bathroom. the bottoms were cheeky, completely see through fabric save for the gusset and a black heart in the same floral pattern at the center of the crotch. the straps on the thong were bedazzled, matching the sparkly bra.

satisfied with how you looked, you put your outfit on and texted ellie you were on the way.

when you arrived, you were nervous. sure, it was just a movie night, but you were secretly planning so much more.

“you look cute,” ellie greets, kissing you softly and bringing you inside. “what’s the occasion?”

you flush red. “what, can I not dress up nice to hang out with my girlfriend?” you say with a laugh, taking off your shoes and settling into her bed.

she rolls her eyes in response and sits next to you, arm over your shoulder as she picks up your legs and drapes them over her own.

“let’s watch a haunting in venice! heard it’s good.” ellie says excitedly. she eagerly puts the movie on and pulls you even closer, making your heart beat faster.

the movie starts, but you aren’t interested. you turn to ellie, admiring her face. you felt different this time, the warm feeling of love that typically stayed in your heart beginning to bloom somewhere else.

“what is it? do you wanna watch something else?” ellie asks, noticing how you haven’t once looked at the screen. you meet her gaze before flicking your eyes down to her lips, then back up again. she does the same, leaning in for a kiss.

eagerly, you reciprocate, your hand rising to cup her face as the kiss begins to intensify quickly. tongues sliding against the others own, sloppy smacking, a desperate whine from you as you began to be needy for her. you position your legs and sit up, straddling ellie as you two make out. her hands rose to your body and gently squeezed your upper thighs.

you felt bold, beginning to grind down on ellie. she broke the kiss, pupils blown wide and breathing heavily as a string of saliva connected your swollen lips to eachother.

“what…fffuuuckk….what are you doing…” ellie said, watching as your hips rutted down into her own, her clit throbbing.

“i…im ready. im ready to go all the way, if you are..” you said nervously. she looked up at you, lips parted slightly.

“are you sure? i…” she starts, searching your face for any signs of doubt.

anxiously, you take hold of her hand and tenderly place it on your clothed breast. ellie flushes red and squeezes softly, causing you to let out a breathy whine. you lean down to her neck, kissing gently at first.

“‘s this okay?” you mumble against her skin.

“yes.” ellie responds, leaning to the opposite side to expose more of her hot skin. you began to pepper open mouthed kisses on her skin, suckling and leaving soft purpley marks behind. ellie moans quietly, your cunt absolutely dripping at her sweet sweet sounds.

her hands began to grope at your body, hesitant but needy, traveling from your plush, gyrating hips to your tits, squeezing at them. you moaned against her neck, the grinding not providing the friction you desperately craved.

you pulled away from ellie’s neck, which made her whine quietly at the loss of contact.

“should…can we start undressing?” you asked nervously.

“please…” ellie responds.

you grab the end of your shirt, stepping off the bed and staring into her lush green eyes, batting your eyelashes as you slowly took it off. she watched intensely, almost like if she turned away for just a moment you would disappear. you unbuttoned your jeans as well, sliding off the denim. her greedy eyes traveled down your torso, face turning red at the sight of your lingerie set.

“were you planning this?” ellie asked, kissing your collarbone.

“maybe.”

she draws in a breath, heart beating faster as the tension in the room grows.

“your turn.” you say, looking into ellie’s eyes once more.

ellie takes off her tank top, her chest bare underneath. her small but perky breasts, now exposed to you, pale, freckled, and perfect.

“sorry…typically i don’t wear a bra.” ellie said nervously, raising an arm to cover her bare skin.

you stopped her.

“don’t cover up, you’re perfect.” you said softly, kissing her after. ellie melted into the kiss, kissing you back desperately as she pulled you impossibly closer. your tongues slid against eachother sloppily, lewd smacking sounds echoing in the dim room.

ellie’s hand tenderly slid from your hips to your inner thigh, her thumb rubbing the softest circles on your clit through your panties.

“can i do this?” she asked softly against your reddened lips.

you bit your lip, a soft whine trying to break from your lips. “yes.”

ellie kisses you roughly, slightly increasing the pressure on your swollen bud through the sheer lace. you whimpered against her lips, pushing into her thumbs pushing.

“more..” you mumbled into the kiss.

ellie pushed you into the bed, slotting her knee between your legs and pressing it against your damp panties.

you moaned on her lips, rutting your hips on her knee. her hand groped your breast, lips kissing from your cheek to your neck, then your chest.

“can I take this off…?” she asked.

you nodded in response.

she fumbled with the clasp, brows furrowing in frustration as it wouldn’t unhook.

“ah fuck…sorry, this is so bad..” she apologized, finally unhooking the damn thing.

you giggled in response.

“you’re so cute…”

she blushed.

you discarded the bra, breasts now exposed like her own. ellie stared at them for a moment before connecting her lips on your hot skin, sucking dark marks into your flesh as her tongue swirled around your perky nipple.

her hot tongue pressed against your skin drove you insane. you moaned softly, arching into her mouth. her hand slowly trailed down your body and once again began to apply slight pressure to your swollen clit through your lingerie.

you bucked your hips against her hand, a sharp whine breaking past your lips at the quick burst of pleasure that gave you. you started grinding on her hand, desperate for her touch.

“fuck…” ellie said quietly, her own clit throbbing beneath her jeans and boxers. she watched you getting off on her hand, lips slightly parted.

“need you…” you mumbled. you dropped down to ellie’s hand and shoved it beneath your panties, shivering at the touch of her cold fingers on your warm slick. she froze.

“are…are you sure?” ellie asked awkwardly, heart beating fast.

“i need you ellie. please….” you said, kissing her.

she quickly fumbled her jeans and boxers off, removing your own underwear as well. she pressed her chest against your own, hand making its way back to your sloppy cunt and-ohmygod she’s inside-curling her long, cool fingers upwards.

you nervously reach for ellies cunt, fingers awkwardly rubbing her puffy clit. she bucks her hips forward, whimpering softly at the sudden contact.

“baby…i need to feel you…” she said, catching your eyes. your heart beats faster, clenching down on her fingers.

“fuck…,” ellie whispers under her breath. “so…tight..can I?”

you nod in response, parting your legs as she slips between them and settles on top of you.

“are you sure?” she asked quietly, staring into your eyes.

you drew in a breath, blushing. admiring the beautiful girl infront of-well more like on top of- you, freckles decorating her toned body.

“im sure ellie.”

she looks downwards and begins to grind into you slowly, exhaling softly as your slick mixes with her own. you buck your hips, awkwardly trying your best to match her rhythm. her hands grip your legs as she speeds up, grunting occasionally. she didn’t care how out of sync it was, you felt so fucking good pressed against her clit and fuck she’s close-

“baby fuck…” she moaned, picking up the pace again. lucky for both of you, you were able to catch on. your body trembled as your clits aggressively rubbed together, sloppy wet sounds echoing between the two of you.

your chest lifted and sunk rapidly, careless whines and gasps escaping your lips as you stared at the girl on top of you.

“i…i love you, i lo-fuck-love you so much, ellie.” you moaned, eyes closing in pleasure as you neared your peak. “im so close, don’t stop.”

ellie grunted in response, hips shuddering as she continued her pace.

you both managed to find the perfect rhythm, the pressure and synchronization driving you both over the edge. you moaned her name, and she whimpered yours, both of you coming down from your highs pressed against the other.

she unhooked her leg from your torso, eyeing you up and down with a soft smile and loving look. you pulled her close, her sweat and scent mixing with your own.

“that was so…oh my god! haha..” you said with a giggle. ellie blushed.

“i uh…i learned a thing or two from porn. you’re also my first.” she confessed. you kissed her sweetly, the feeling of her lips on your own being one of the best things you’d ever known.

well, second best now.

[kissitbttr]

holup— ima need a moment with my thoughts 🥵🥵 miguel sending reader’s ex a photo mid-sex is so petty and so him!! he would follow up with a video of himself giving you back shots (he’ll hide your face because he’s a gentlemen (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)), flip the camera around to show his face with a smirk and say “lose her number” because he’s a cocky ass mf

MAAAN you’re onto something anon, cuz a waterfall just breaks down in between my legs🤤🤤

-

“hmm, you like that huh, baby?”

his lips pulls into a lazy smirk, heavy panting as he pounds you from behind. both of his hands gripping onto your hips, talons digging slightly into the skin giving you the perfect pain of pleasure,

“yes papi—fuck yes” you mewl, mouth slightly wide open as you release another moan that makes his cock twitch. “i love how deep you get inside me”

he exhales a dark chuckle as he pounds faster, “sé que te gusta. dirty, dirty fucking girl.” then he leans slightly to whisper on your ear. “only for me, hm?”

you nod, biting down onto your lower lip as you’re running out of things to say. your brain tends to fogged when you have his cock deep inside your cunt, but you wouldn’t have it any other way,

as he about to fist your hair up, he hears a ‘ding’ coming from your phone. his brows furrowed curiously, because who the fuck is hitting up your phone at this hour? couldn’t be someone from work,

“who’s that?” he asks breathlessly as he watches you pull your head back before grabbing your phone and check,

“aw fuck”

“what?” he asks again, hearing you groan. “who is it?”

“remember Jonathan?” you ask as you look over your shoulder at him

oh man, he does not need to be told twice.

his expression then slowly formed into anger and annoyance, grunting in disgust as he snatches your phone,

“i’ll teach him a fucking lesson” he says through gritted teeth, hips snapping back into yours as he continues to thrust even faster,

miguel unlocks your phone, pressing the camera before he starts to take a video of your backside. the sound of your dirty moans are filling the room as he plunges deeper, his other hand coming to give your ass a smack.

the word ‘papi’ and ‘miguel’ keeps falling off your lips like a prayer, and it just feeds his ego even more. because he knows that Jonathan will watch this video and learns that you don’t belong to that sorry excuse of a man anymore.

no. you belong to him.

“tell me, baby” he adjusts the camera to the back of your head, making sure that your face isn’t in it. “who’s pussy is this?”

“yours” you say without any hesitation, knuckles turning white from gripping the sheets far too hard. “and no one else’s”

“good girl” he then flips the camera to show his face. his expression is dead serious, eyes locked into the screen as if he’s staring Jonathan in person. and for the icing on a cake, his fangs make a tiny bit appearance just to creep him off.

“lose her number, tú hijo de puta. or i’ll kill you” with that he sends it to your ex, throwing your phone to the side. “now he fucking knows to not text you anymore ”

hearing that makes you flush as you giggle. miguel’s hand slowly glide down against you back and pressing you onto the mattress so he can lay his body down completely on top. “my woman” he whispers lowly into your ear,

“hm, maybe next time if he does it again, you should take a picture of me sucking your cock, right papi?” you suggest with a sly smirk,

he groans at that, his hand coming up to choke you as the other supporting his weight beside your torso.

“ay, that’s why you’re my everything, mami”

[reidmarieprentiss]

Textual Tension

Summary: You accidentally send a very suggestive text to your awkward coworker, and he replies...

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut (18+), fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, awkward tension

Word count: 6.1k

a/n: has anyone ever sent a sext to the wrong person?? i've only ever sent them to my friends on accident and for that i am so thankful

main masterlist

Additional warnings: oral (fem receiving), mild breast play, soft dom spencer

You sit on your bed, the soft glow of your phone illuminating your face as you type out a rather suggestive message to the person you've been casually hooking up with. A smirk tugs at your lips as you hit send, confident that the message will hit its mark. 

I've been thinking about you… Can't stop imagining what I'd do if you were here right now. I want to feel your hands all over me, the way you’d make me moan… Let’s make fantasy a reality?

But within seconds, your heart stops as you realize the terrible mistake you've just made.

You’ve sent the message to Spencer.

Spencer.

Your coworker. The brilliant, kind, and awkwardly charming genius who you’ve always had a friendly, professional relationship with. And, of course, the one who has been harboring a massive, secret crush on you. A fact that, unbeknownst to you, has led to countless daydreams and wishes that you might feel the same.

The blood drains from your face as you stare at your phone, horrified, praying that somehow the message didn’t actually go through, or maybe, just maybe, Spencer won’t read it and will simply delete it. But you know better—Spencer is meticulous about everything. Of course, he’ll read it. You’re absolutely mortified, every worst-case scenario flashing through your mind.

Meanwhile, in his apartment, Spencer is settling down with a cup of tea, ready to dive into the book he’s been reading. When his phone buzzes, he picks it up absentmindedly, assuming it’s just a work-related message or something mundane. But as he reads the words on the screen, his eyes widen in shock, his breath catching in his throat.

His thoughts run wild, heart pounding as he rereads the text, each time wondering if it could possibly be real. Could you, the person he’s admired from afar for so long, actually want him in the way he’s secretly yearned for? The idea is intoxicating, and before he can second-guess himself, he responds with a message that matches your energy, his pulse quickening at the boldness of it.

Wow… I didn’t know you were into me like that. I’ve been thinking about you too. If you want, we can definitely make that happen.

The moment you see his reply, your stomach drops. You can't believe this is happening. You’re completely mortified, your mind spinning with the implications. How could you ever face him again? You don’t respond, the fear and embarrassment paralyzing you, leaving you in a state of panic.

The next day at work, you’re a bundle of nerves. Every step you take towards the bullpen feels like you’re walking to your own doom. When you finally arrive, you try to act normal, but the tension is palpable. You can’t even bring yourself to make eye contact with Spencer, every interaction feeling like it’s laced with the humiliation of last night’s mistake.

Spencer, on the other hand, is caught in a whirlwind of emotions. At first, he’s elated, thinking that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance you were into him. But as the day drags on and you remain distant, the excitement turns to confusion, then a sharp sting of rejection. Did he misread the situation? Was it all just a mistake? He’s left feeling awkward and exposed, unsure of where he stands with you now.

—

The tension between you and Spencer had become a nearly tangible thing, a thread pulled taut between the two of you, ready to snap at any moment. At first, your glances in his direction were purely out of necessity—quick, fleeting looks to gauge his mood, to see if he was as affected by this as you were. But as the days passed, those glances became more frequent, more lingering.

It started innocently enough. You’d look over and notice how effortlessly his hair seemed to fall into place, the soft waves framing his face in a way that made him look almost ethereal. You’d never paid much attention before, but now you couldn’t help but admire how it suited him, how it added to his charm.

Then, it was his forearms. You’d catch him pushing up the sleeves of his button-down shirt, revealing the sinewy strength beneath the fabric. There was something about the casual way he did it, the way the muscles in his arms flexed ever so slightly as he worked, that made your heart skip a beat. It was such a simple thing, but it had a profound effect on you, stirring something deep within.

And then there was the way he licked his lips when he was focused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he concentrated on whatever task was in front of him. You couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have his attention focused solely on you, to feel the intensity of that gaze as he looked at you, not with confusion or uncertainty, but with desire.

The more you noticed these little things, the more conflicted you became. This was Spencer—sweet, brilliant, and awkward Spencer. The idea of seeing him in a different light had never really crossed your mind before, but now… now it was all you could think about. The memory of his bold response to your accidental text played on a loop in your mind, taunting you with the possibilities.

What if you responded? What if you stopped overthinking everything and just… saw where it could go? The idea terrified you, but it also excited you in a way you hadn’t expected. There was something thrilling about the thought of exploring this new dynamic, of seeing if there was something more between you and Spencer than just a shared workspace.

You found yourself daydreaming about it, wondering how he would react if you sent him a message, if you matched the energy of his reply. Would he be as nervous as you were, or would he surprise you with a confidence you hadn’t seen before? The thought of it made your pulse quicken, a flush of warmth spreading through you.

But with the excitement came doubt. What if this was a mistake? What if you were reading too much into things, and responding to his text would only make the situation worse? The fear of making things awkward again, of possibly ruining your work life further, held you back. Yet, the thought of doing nothing felt like a missed opportunity, like you were letting something potentially amazing slip through your fingers.

As the day dragged on, you found it harder and harder to focus on your work. Every time you saw Spencer, every time you noticed another little detail about him that you hadn’t before, the urge to reach out grew stronger. It was like there was a tug-of-war going on inside you, with one side urging you to take the risk and see what could happen, and the other holding you back out of fear.

Finally, as the workday was winding down, you made a decision. Maybe you were overthinking this—maybe it was time to just go for it and see what came of it. After all, Spencer had responded positively, hadn’t he? There was a chance, a real chance, that he felt something for you too, something more than just a workplace friendship.

Sitting on your couch with your heart pounding in your chest, you pulled out your phone, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you debated what to say. You didn’t want to be too forward, but you also didn’t want to be vague. After a few moments of contemplation, you typed out a message, your hands trembling slightly as you reread it.

Hey, about that text… Maybe we should talk. Or… you know, not just talk. If you’re still interested.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, your heart racing as you watched the message deliver. There was no going back now.

The rest of the evening was a blur of anxiety and anticipation. You couldn’t stop thinking about what his response might be, what it could mean for the two of you. When your phone finally buzzed with a new message, you hesitated for just a moment before opening it.

I’m definitely interested. Let’s talk… or not just talk, whenever you’re ready.

The words were simple, but they held so much promise. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you read them, a mixture of relief and excitement flooding your senses. This was happening. You and Spencer were about to cross a line, to explore something new and thrilling.

Just as you were contemplating what to say, how to navigate this sudden and unexpected turn in your relationship, another notification lit up your screen.

Come over? Now?

The message was short, simple, and completely electrifying. It sent a jolt through your system, leaving you momentarily speechless. The implications of it were clear—Spencer wasn’t just thinking about this; he was ready to act on it, to turn this accidental confession into something real and immediate.

Your mind raced as you considered what to do next. Just minutes ago, you were agonizing over whether or not to even respond, and now he was inviting you over, as if the decision had already been made. The sheer boldness of his message left you breathless, your heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement.

You couldn't help but imagine what it would be like—showing up at his place, the air thick with the unspoken tension that had been building between you all day. The thought of being alone with him, of crossing that line from coworkers to something more, sent a thrill through you.

You took a deep breath, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. This was a pivotal moment, and whatever you decided now would set the course for what happened next.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of internal debate, you typed out a response, your heart racing as you hit send.

I'll be there in 20 minutes.

—

You parked outside Spencer’s apartment building, your heart racing as you took a deep breath to steady yourself. The 20-minute drive had been filled with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions—excitement, anticipation, and a lingering thread of uncertainty. You weren’t entirely sure what to expect when you arrived, especially considering how different Spencer had seemed over text compared to how he usually was in person. The Spencer you knew was shy, adorably awkward, and hesitant when it came to personal matters. But his texts had shown a side of him that was bold, confident, and unafraid to take charge.

As you approached his door, your nerves started to get the better of you, but there was no turning back now. You lifted your hand to knock, hesitating for just a moment before finally letting your knuckles rap against the wood. The seconds that followed felt like an eternity, your mind racing with possibilities of how this night could unfold.

When the door finally opened, you were taken aback by the sight that greeted you. Spencer stood there, shirtless, the soft glow of his apartment’s light highlighting the lean lines of his torso. He wore nothing but a pair of low-hanging gray sweatpants, the waistband slung low on his hips, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the defined muscles and trail of hair beneath. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d run his hands through it moments before opening the door, and his eyes, usually filled with a mix of curiosity and gentle kindness, now held a smoldering intensity that you had never seen before.

For a moment, you couldn’t find the words, your breath catching in your throat as you took in the sight of him. This wasn’t the Spencer you were used to—this was the man who had responded to your accidental text with a confidence that had both surprised and intrigued you. The awkward, hesitant Spencer you knew seemed to have taken a backseat, making way for someone who knew exactly what he wanted.

And what he wanted, it seemed, was you.

He leaned casually against the doorframe, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched your reaction. There was a heat in his gaze, a silent challenge that dared you to step inside, to see just how far this newfound confidence could take him.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m glad you came.”

You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts, but the sight of him standing there like that—so effortlessly confident, so unapologetically enticing—made it difficult to think of anything but the rush of desire that was quickly building within you.

“Hey,” you managed to reply, your voice a little breathless. “You… uh, look different.”

Spencer’s smile widened slightly, his eyes never leaving yours as he stepped aside to let you in. “Well I should hope so,” he said, his tone teasing, but with an underlying seriousness that sent your heart racing even faster.

You stepped inside, feeling the warmth of his apartment wrap around you as the door clicked shut behind you. The atmosphere between you was charged, electric, every moment filled with unspoken possibilities. Spencer moved closer, his presence almost overwhelming in its intensity. The scent of him—a mix of something clean and masculine—filled your senses, making you even more acutely aware of the heat radiating from his skin.

“I’ve been thinking,” Spencer began, his voice soft yet steady, as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “About what was said...”

Your breath hitched at the light touch, your skin tingling where his fingers had just been. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, afraid that your voice might betray just how much his presence was affecting you.

“I don’t want this to be awkward,” he continued, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “But I also don’t want to pretend that nothing’s changed… because it has.”

He was right—everything had changed. The air between you was thick with tension, with the unspoken acknowledgment of what you both wanted but were too nervous to voice. And yet, here he was, standing so close, shirtless and confident, laying it all out in front of you.

Taking a deep breath, you finally found your voice. “So… what happens next?”

Spencer’s lips quirked up into a small, almost mischievous smile. “I think that depends on what you want.”

His words hung in the air between you, a challenge and an invitation all at once. You could feel the pull, the magnetic attraction drawing you closer to him, and in that moment, you knew there was no turning back.

With a boldness you hadn’t known you possessed, you stepped even closer, your body nearly brushing against his as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “I want to find out what happens when we stop pretending.”

The last remnants of hesitation melted away as Spencer’s smile turned into something more—something hungry and determined. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips descended on yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. It was fierce, consuming, a release of all the tension that had been building between you.

As his hands roamed your back, pulling you closer still, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you had only begun to scratch the surface of the side of Spencer Reid you were about to discover tonight.

The world around you blurred as Spencer’s lips moved against yours, his kiss deepening with every passing second. Time seemed to lose all meaning as you lost yourself in the warmth of his touch, the taste of his lips, and the way his hands gripped your waist with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. It felt like you had been kissing for an eternity, and yet when he finally pulled back, you found yourself gasping for breath, your mind spinning, and your body aching for more.

Spencer’s eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, filled with a heat that made your pulse quicken. Without saying a word, he took your hand, his grip firm yet gentle, leading you down the hall towards his bedroom. The anticipation thrummed in your veins, every step heightening the tension between you. But just as you reached the doorway, Spencer suddenly stopped, turning to press you against the doorframe. His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing kisses that made your knees weaken and your breath hitch.

You barely had time to process the sensation before he pulled back again, a playful gleam in his eyes as he gently but firmly guided you into the bedroom. With a swift motion, he pushed you onto the bed, and you bounced slightly, a surprised giggle escaping your lips. The unexpected shift in his demeanor—this newfound confidence, this playful dominance—left you both intrigued and a little off-balance. You’d known Spencer as the quiet, reserved, and somewhat shy genius, but this side of him was something entirely different, and you couldn’t help but be captivated by it.

As you lay there, still trying to wrap your head around this change, you found yourself blurting out a question that had been lingering in the back of your mind. “Do you do this a lot, Reid?”

Spencer chuckled, the sound low and deep, sending a ripple of warmth through your body. He shook his head with a smile that was equal parts reassuring and teasing. “No, not ever really,” he admitted, his voice soft but steady, as he reached for your ankles and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, positioning himself between your legs. His hands rested on your thighs, the warmth of his touch seeping through your clothes, grounding you in the moment.

“Call me Spencer,” he added, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, his gaze locking onto yours with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. There was something intimate about the way he said it, as if this wasn’t just about physical attraction, but about letting you see a side of him that no one else had. 

Your heart skipped a beat at the request, the simple act of calling him by his first name in this context making the moment feel even more personal, more real. 

“Spencer,” you repeated, the name slipping from your lips like a secret, a promise. His smile widened, a spark of something almost wicked flashing in his eyes, and you realized that you were about to discover a side of him that you’d never imagined existed.

Spencer leaned in, his hands sliding up your thighs, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I’ve been wanting this for a long time, you know. I just never thought…” He trailed off, as if realizing that words weren’t enough to express what he was feeling. Instead, he captured your lips with his again, his kiss searing and insistent, as though he were making up for lost time.

Spencer's hands, warm and steady, slowly trailed up your sides, his fingers grazing the soft fabric of your t-shirt as they moved. When he reached the hem, he hesitated, his touch gentle but deliberate as he curled his fingers around the edge. He looked up at you, his expression a mix of desire and tenderness, but there was something else too—a careful consideration, a need to ensure that you were just as willing as he was.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. The intensity of his gaze held you captive, his eyes searching yours for the reassurance he needed.

For a moment, you were too caught up in the heat of the moment to respond, your heart pounding in your chest. The way he looked at you, with such raw want and yet so much care, made it hard to think clearly. You nodded quickly, your eyes wide with anticipation, but Spencer didn’t move.

His grip on your shirt tightened slightly as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I’m going to need you to use your words, sweetheart.”

The way he said it—his voice rough, almost gritted out with barely restrained desire—made your head spin, the sheer force of his need for you sending your pulse into overdrive. There was a command in his tone, but also a gentle reminder that this was your choice, that he needed to hear you say it.

You swallowed hard, your voice catching in your throat as you tried to find the words. The air around you felt thick with tension, every second stretching out as you stared up at him, the look in his eyes making it impossible to deny him—or yourself.

“Ye—yes, please,” you finally managed to say, your voice a little breathless, but full of the same want that you saw reflected in his eyes.

Spencer’s eyes darkened with satisfaction at your response, a small, almost predatory smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he began to lift your shirt. The fabric slid up your torso slowly, the cool air of the room hitting your skin as he revealed more of you. He took his time, savoring the moment, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside.

For a brief moment, you felt exposed, vulnerable under the weight of his gaze. But the way Spencer looked at you, with a mixture of awe and hunger, made all your insecurities melt away. His hands roamed over the newly exposed skin, his touch both soothing and electrifying, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with sincerity and desire, as he leaned in to press a kiss to your collarbone, his lips lingering against your skin.

You had forgone a bra that night, thinking nothing of it when you slipped into your comfy clothes after a long day at work. After all, you hadn’t planned on anything like this happening. But now, with Spencer’s hands on you, his eyes filled with something that looked a lot like awe, you found that you didn’t care in the slightest. If anything, it added to the intimacy of the moment, the rawness of it, making you feel closer to him than you ever thought possible.

His touch was slow, deliberate, almost as if he was savoring every moment, every reaction he elicited from you. His fingers brushed over your skin, exploring you with curiosity and desire, as if he was trying to learn every detail, every response, to what he was doing. When his hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, you couldn’t suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips, your body arching towards him instinctively, craving more of his touch.

“Spencer…” you breathed, your voice barely more than a whisper, but filled with so much emotion that it felt like a confession. There was something in his name, in the way it rolled off your tongue, that made the moment feel even more intimate, more real. It wasn’t just a name anymore—it was a declaration, an acknowledgment of what was happening between you, of the connection that was quickly forming.

Spencer’s eyes flicked back up to yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race even faster. There was something almost primal in the way he looked at you now, a hunger that was barely restrained, but also a tenderness that made your chest tighten with emotion. He leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this… how long I’ve wanted you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting to the sheer weight of them. It wasn’t just lust in his voice—it was something deeper, something that made you feel cherished, desired in a way that you hadn’t felt in a long time. The realization that Spencer had been holding back, that he had wanted you for so long, made your heart swell with emotion, your need for him growing even stronger.

He kissed you again, his lips capturing yours in a way that was both gentle and demanding, his hands continuing their exploration of your body. Each touch, each caress, was filled with passion and care, as if he was trying to show you just how much you meant to him without needing to say the words. And with every kiss, every brush of his fingertips, you found yourself falling deeper into the moment, your own desire for him becoming overwhelming.

You reached up, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing to feel the heat of his body against yours. The way he responded, the way his hands gripped you tighter, as if afraid to let go, made it clear that he was just as lost in the moment as you were. There was no more hesitation, no more awkwardness—just the two of you, finally giving in to the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

Spencer’s hands were warm against your skin as he gently laid you back on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he hovered above you. The intensity in his gaze was almost overwhelming, his pupils blown wide with desire, but there was something else there too—curiosity, maybe even a hint of vulnerability. His fingers trailed down your sides, the touch sending shivers through your body as he slowly leaned in, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your chest.

“Tell me, Y/N…” His voice was a low murmur, filled with an edge of something deeper, as he kissed his way down your chest, taking his time, savoring the feel of your skin beneath his lips. “Did you think about me too?”

The question hung in the air, making your breath hitch as you squirmed beneath him, the sensation of his kisses igniting a fire deep within you. Your mind was spinning, every nerve in your body on high alert as you felt his breath ghost over your skin, his lips moving lower, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

“I did,” you admitted, your voice a little breathless as the confession slipped out. It was the truth, after all—you had thought about him, more than you ever wanted to admit. The idea of Spencer, sweet, awkward Spencer, being the one to push you to this point had always been a secret fantasy, buried deep within you. But now, with him here, in this moment, it was no longer just a fantasy—it was real.

Spencer’s lips curved into a smirk against your skin as he reached your hip, his teeth nipping playfully at the delicate flesh, making you gasp. The sensation was a mix of pleasure and surprise, and you couldn’t help but arch your back slightly in response. His hands moved to your shorts, his fingers hooking into the waistband as he tugged them down slowly, teasingly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as he did.

“That text wasn’t for me though, was it?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he watched your reaction. The smirk on his face was something you’d never seen before—confident, almost cocky, as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on you.

You froze for a moment, your heart skipping a beat as the realization hit you. You hadn’t expected him to catch on to that detail, but of course he had—Spencer was nothing if not observant. The thought that he knew the text wasn’t meant for him, but was still here, still wanting you, made your pulse quicken even more.

“Uh, no, it wasn’t,” you admitted with a whine, the words slipping out before you could stop them. There was no point in lying—not when he was looking at you like that, his gaze full of heat and understanding. “But I’m glad I sent it to you,” you added quickly, your voice filled with sincerity and a hint of desperation.

Spencer’s smirk softened into a small, almost tender smile as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your navel. “Maybe your subconscious wanted you to,” he suggested, his voice low and smooth, each word making your head spin. The idea made you dizzy, the thought that some part of you had always wanted this, had always wanted him, even if you hadn’t fully realized it until now.

“Uh huh,” you breathed out, your voice floaty and airy, your mind clouded with desire. The sensation of his lips on your skin, his hands on your body, was intoxicating, making it hard to think clearly. All you could focus on was the way he made you feel—alive, wanted, and completely lost in the moment.

Spencer’s fingers continued to work on removing your shorts, sliding them down your legs with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving yours. There was something almost worshipful in the way he touched you, as if he was savoring every second, every inch of skin he revealed.

As he finally discarded your shorts, leaving you completely exposed to him, he took a moment to just look at you, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and admiration. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned in to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

The words made your heart swell, a wave of warmth washing over you as you reached out, your fingers tangling in his hair. There was nothing left to hide now, nothing left to hold back. This was exactly where you wanted to be—where you were meant to be.

“Do you always skip out on bras and panties, Y/N?” Spencer’s teasing comment sent a ripple of laughter through you, the sound mingling with the rapid beat of your heart. The playful banter between you only intensified the electric connection that was already sparking between you both. His bite on your inner thigh was both a tease and a promise, igniting a fire that made every nerve in your body come alive.

“N–no, only at home,” you managed to scream out, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. The combination of his touch and the vulnerability of the moment made it impossible to hold back any longer.

He chuckled, the sound deep and resonant, echoing softly in the room as his fingers continued to explore your skin. “But you didn’t put any on before coming over?” His tone was light, yet there was an undeniable edge of desire that underpinned his words.

You took a moment to catch your breath, the playful challenge in his eyes urging you to respond. “Are you–are you complaining?” you asked, your voice wavering between breathless laughter and the growing urgency of your emotions.

Spencer shook his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Not at all, although–” His sentence was cut short as your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him fully into you. The sudden, decisive movement left no room for hesitation, and the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, entwined in each other’s embrace.

“Oh my god, Spencer, just shut up,” you laughed, the sound filled with a mixture of amusement and desire. “Put your mouth to use.”

His response was immediate, his lips finding your core with a fervor that matched the intensity of your own longing. The way he ate you out was everything you had been waiting for—passionate, deep, and downright filthy. His hands left their place on your thighs, tracing the contours of your body with a reverence that made you feel both cherished and desired.

As he sunk his mouth deeper, sucking your clit into his mouth, Spencer guided you gently but firmly onto the bed, the softness of the sheets a stark contrast to the heat that radiated between you.

“Spencer,” you moaned, the name slipping out like a sacred vow, sealing the moment between you. His response was a dirty smile, his mouth shining with your juices, making your pulse throb.

He paused for a moment, just enough to look into your eyes, “You’re fucking delicious,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “I’ve wanted to taste you for so long.”

As Spencer’s mouth continued to work its magic on your core, a whirlwind of sensations overwhelmed you. Each touch, each stroke of his tongue, sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything but the intense feeling of being completely consumed by him. The way he moved, so skilled yet so attentive to your every reaction, left you breathless, your hands clutching at the sheets as your head swam in a sea of ecstasy.

But amidst the pleasure, a fleeting thought crossed your mind—how close you had come to letting this moment, this incredible opportunity, slip through your fingers. You couldn’t believe that you had almost dismissed the idea of responding to his bold text, that you had almost let fear and hesitation keep you from experiencing this side of Spencer. A side that was confident, passionate, and utterly devoted to your pleasure.

How could you have been so close to missing out on this? On him? Spencer, who had always been there, quiet and thoughtful, had somehow managed to unlock a part of you that you hadn’t even known existed—a part that craved the connection and intimacy he was now offering with every caress of his lips.

You let out a soft moan, your hips arching towards him as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level. The sounds you made only seemed to spur him on, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pulled you closer, his tongue working with a precision that left you teetering on the edge. Every nerve in your body was alive, the world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on you, the heat of his breath against your skin.

“Spencer,” you gasped out, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. It wasn’t just the pleasure he was giving you—it was the realization that this was Spencer, the man you had known for so long, who was now showing you a depth of care and passion that you had never imagined.

The way he responded to your every movement, the way he seemed to know exactly what you needed, made you feel cherished in a way that went far beyond the physical. It was as if he was attuned to your very soul, using his touch to communicate something deeper, something that had been building between you for far longer than either of you had realized.

As you felt the tension within you coil tighter and tighter, ready to snap, you couldn’t help but marvel at how easily you had fallen into this moment with him. All the hesitation, the uncertainty, had melted away, leaving only the pure, unfiltered connection between you and Spencer. A connection that had been there all along, waiting for the right moment to be brought to life.

And now that it had, you knew you could never go back to the way things were. Spencer had opened a door to something new, something beautiful, and you were ready to step through it with him, no matter what the future held.

With a final, skillful flick of his tongue over your clit, Spencer sent you tumbling over the edge, your body trembling with the force of your release. The world around you seemed to dissolve into a haze of pleasure and warmth, your mind barely able to process the overwhelming sensations that flooded through you.

As you came down from the high, Spencer’s hands and mouth softened, his touch becoming gentle, almost reverent, as he coaxed you through the aftershocks. When he finally pulled back, he looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and tenderness that made your heart skip a beat.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with a sincerity that left no doubt about how much this moment meant to him. He crawled up the bed to join you, his body pressing against yours as he captured your lips in a slow, languid kiss, allowing you to taste the remnants of your own pleasure on his lips.

You smiled against his lips, a sense of contentment and excitement washing over you as you whispered, “I’m glad I’m here too, Spencer. So glad.”

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[ragingbookdragon]

He stared at her from his desk as she sat on his bed, playing a game on her phone; the screen occasionally flashed different colors across her face as she went back and forth between texting her friends, most likely Gaz and Soap, and her game. At one point, she shifted, laying flat on her stomach, her elbows pressed into the bed as she played, then she pushed her arms across his pillow and propped her chin on the cushion.

The show of comfort from her had a spur of irritation licking its way from his gut to his throat and before he could tell his mouth to shut the hell up, “I fucking hate it when you’re in my room,” came out.

Her eyes immediately met his, expression startled, starting to twist into hurt as she absorbed and processed what he had said to her. A pathetic and hurt, “What?” was all that managed to come out of her mouth and Ghost knew better than to say more, but even damage control wasn’t at the forefront of his mind, and since he’d already opened the door, he may as well walk through it.

He let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand down his face. “You’re always in my room. My room. Why are you always here?” he was a smart man; he knew how to articulate himself. “My room is the one place I go to get away from everything and everyone and somehow you’re always here. You never leave me alone.” He didn’t really mean to be as scathing as he was, but all the overwhelmingness of her finally came to a head. “Everywhere I go, you’re always there, stuck to me like fucking glue, and it’s ‘Lieutenant this,’ and Lieutenant that.’ Why can’t you just quit being so fucking clingy?” Ghost pinched his brow and heaved out another sigh, rubbing his eyes before he pulled his hand away and looked at her.

And he knew, just with one look, that he had fucked up more than he could ever think of trying to repair.

Her lips wobbled as she kept trying to purse them to keep herself from crying, but it wasn’t doing much as the tears were already tipping over the edge of her eyes and down her cheeks.

Ghost had never seen her cry before.

He realized how much he fucking hated seeing it.

Her eyes left his and he watched as a deadness replaced them, though the distraught was still evident as she whispered, “I’m sorry, Lieutenant Riley.” And clambered to her feet, dazedly sliding off his bed and heading for his door.

His mouth was open before he knew it, “Private, I didn’t—"

“I won’t bother you again unless it’s for work, I promise,” she said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was being a bother, sir.”

He hated being called “sir” by anyone.

“Private, wait, I—”

“I just thought we were friends,” she whispered more to herself than to him, and shut the door behind her.

[tootiecakes234]

“Hey Katsuki”, you scream from the your bedroom.

“What” he yells back at you from somewhere else in the house.

“Where ya at?”

“In the game room.”

So you get up and head that way. When you enter he’s sat in his gaming chair with his headset on.

“Hey bub…. Hey guys” you say loud enough to be heard through his headset.

“Yea yea. They all said hey.” You knew Kirishima and Kaminari were on the other end. Maybe even Mina too cuz she wasn’t texting you back.

“Kit-Kat, I’m getting hungry. Do you know what sounds really good for dinner?”

“What?” he questions without taking his eyes off the screen.

You walk behind him and slide your arms around his neck and nuzzle into the back of his head. You’re trying to butter him up because you know he’s not gonna wanna make what you’re craving.

“You remember those dumplings you made from scratch a while ago?” You ask with your voice dripping in as much sweetness you can muster.

“No.”

“No you don’t remember or no you’re-“

And he interrupt you before you can even finish. “No im not cooking that. There are frozen dumplings in the fridge.”

“But Sukiiiiii, those aren’t as good as the ones you make. The flavors aren’t the same and yours are so crispy and doughy. Pleaaasseee.”

“Hey you assholes shut the hell up. No ones talking to you.” He responds to his friends in the headset. “You want her to have ‘em, bring your ass over and make ‘em”

“I’m not doing this. You idiots hold on.” And he pauses the game and turns around to face you and removes his head set.

“Look we can order takeout if you want, but I’m not about to make freakin dumplings from scratch cuz you have a craving. I’d have to go to the store and get ingredients and taking the time to make the wrappings. ‘S too much.” He tries to explain to you in a rational way .

“I knooowww…. I’d go to the store with you though and I’ll help you make them…. Pretty please” you whine and stick you lowere lip out just a little with your eyes as pleading as you can make them.

Katsuki rolls his eyes and throws his head back.

“You don’t get whatever you want just because you pout at me. Spoiled ass. Not today. Maybe sometime later this week.”

You didn’t actually think he’d tell you no. He usually never does. Maybe you are spoiled. Still makes you sad though.

So you put on your big girl pants, tuck your lip back in and give him a soft “ok” before you lean down and press a soft kiss to his lips so he knows you’re not upset with him.

He is allowed to say no.

“Is Mina on the game with you guys?” You ask him when you pull back.

“Yeah she is.”

“When you get back on can you tell her to stop being a bitch and answer my phone call. I have tea to spill.”

“I’ll tell her.”

And with that you head toward the door and leave.

Once you’re back in your room it takes Mina about 3 minutes to call you and you start catching her up on everything.

You guys stay on the phone for about 30 minutes before she has to go.

After that, you bury yourself in the blankets and start reading the manga you had lying on your nightstand.

Before you can really get into it, Katsuki is walking into your room and going into the closet.

“Get your ass outta bed and get dressed before I change my goddamn mind.”

“What?” You ask because now you’re confused.

“You said you were gonna go to the store with me to buy all this shit so get your ass up and let’s go.”

“Kats you don’t have to, it’s fine.”

“Look ya spoiled brat, if I gotta tell you to get up one more time we are gonna be in here fightin.”

And the smile that breaks out on your face. You hurry and get outta bed and rush him. “Awwwww my sweet boy”

“I swear to god, I’m this close to letting your ass starve.”

And you wrap your arms around him and start kissing everywhere on his face. When you pulled away he has a deep frown on his face but you can see the sparkle in his eyes that he gets when you’re super happy.

You pull away and scurry off to get dressed.

He really needs to start saying no to you and meaning it before you really lose the understanding of the word.

Katsuki Masterlist

Tags: @dreamcastgirl99

*if you want to be added to the tag list, let me know💕

[princessbrunette]

⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … princess going digital! ♡

bsf!jj followed you on all of your social media accounts. well, he thought he did. ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ ౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

your instagram was adorable and demure. photo dumps and stories of your daily iced coffee in your little manicured hand. you had pinterest boards too — jj had seen you scrolling through endless pictures of clothes on his bed and asked questions. you helped him make his own account so he could find new ideas on how to customise his board. he hasn’t opened the app since, but it seemed like it made you happy so he couldn’t find it in himself to delete it off his lockscreen.

he followed you on twitter too. he knew he did because he saw your tweets all up and down his timeline when he would be scrolling late at night trying to find porn. tweets about the cashier that was rude to you, or about that one song you just can’t get out your head.

he thought he’d covered all bases with you. he liked to be in tune with everything you were doing — and maybe that was wrong for a best friend to want, but the two of you were close! it only felt right. it may also have something to do with the fact he’s head over heels for you.

you were laying on your front on his bed. contrasting so sweetly against the boyishness of his room with your cute little hello kitty shirt and denim skirt — epitome of girly girl in such an unfitting space. it made him smile, and he nearly forgot to tune into what you were saying.

you were ranting about your mother again, the woman making it her mission to constantly bring you down.

“seriously jayj, if you saw the way she spoke to me...” you mutter with a frowny little pout as your fingers tap away at the screen, assumably responding to a text.

“i have seen the way she speaks to you. the lady is a nut job, no offence.” jj leans back slightly, tossing a balled up pair of socks from his laundry in the air and catching it.

“her texts are even worse.” you huff.

“s’alright. i’ll be your mommy.” he quips as you’re distracted by pulling up the correct screen.

“jj.” you tsk before turning your phone around. “look!” you whine, and he knows he’s meant to be looking at the texts displayed infront of him. but with undiagnosed adhd, jj couldn’t help but find his focus on the notification sliding down at the top of the screen. the twitter icon, notifying someone reposted your tweet — however, it was accompanied with another username he’d never seen before. an account ran by you assumably, that he no idea about.

“huh… yeah, no yeah. she’s batshit.” jj shakes himself off as he takes mental note of the username, leaning back and hoping you don’t ask any questions knowing he didn’t read the texts at all. you seem none the wiser, continuing to complain and go about your business. that evening, it’s time for you to head home. jj squeezes you at the doorway, cups your cheek and tells you that if your mom is giving you grief, you can come right on back. it seemed to comfort the pout off your face, and you skip off.

now it’s time to sate his curiosity.

when jj gets into bed that night, he types the username into twitter. it takes a few tries to get the specific spelling right, as it had been a few hours and slipped his mind — but finally, the account filled his screen.

your age is attached to the account, yet no name. there was definitely a sense of anonymity— to the point where you hadn’t even told him about it. he considered doing the right thing and clicking off — but jj didn’t always do the right thing, and this was one of those times. the first thing he notices is how clearly you the account is. the header, the profile picture — even the font in your bio was so… you. all curlicues and girly and pink — it was undeniably his best friend.

and then he scrolls.

‘want my best friend 2 hold me down n use me so bad :(’ a tweet from 3 days ago. the blonde sits up in bed, blinking at the screen. that was him, right? eagerly, he continues his scrolling — finding endless tweets about your sexual desires, fantasies, anecdotes about jj himself. it didn’t take much longer of scrolling until he comes across a video — his face heating and crotch stiffening at the familiarity of it all. it was your bedroom, and your face was cropped out. that one pair of pink panties he occasionally caught peeks of beneath your skirt hang off the ankle of your knee high clad legs, pretty pussy on display, glistening as you roll your hips, desperately fucking a pillow.

“god… damn.” he breathes, hand coming up to rub his chest as if to attempt to still his quick-beating heart. he stuffs a tongue in his cheek, part of him wanted to be mad that you were letting strangers on the internet see you like this before he got to. it was a childish type of jealousy that made his hands sweat and the back of his neck all prickly.

a bird squawks outside his window, causing the maybank boy to jump out of his skin like he was about to be caught watching his best friend get herself off. he juggles the phone, quickly checking the screen to make sure he hadn’t accidentally liked any posts. he hadn’t, and he exhales— but with the commotion, he’d accidentally refreshed the page. the loading wheel disappears with a pop, and a new tweet displays itself from three minutes prior.

‘my bsf looks after me so good :( he shld make me feel btter by letting me cum on his fingers <3’

it would be stupid to make a move. he would be potentially destroying a friendship, and on top of that — you could be mad at him for snooping. it was kind of a betrayal of trust after all, similar to if he’d read your diary. but his dick was hard and had taken over the steering wheel that operates his brain — and like he always said, stupid things had great outcomes all the time.

so with a clammy hand, he calls you.

“whats up jayj? did i leave something at your place again?” you croak, sounding all sleepy and cute. god, he couldn’t believe he’d waited so long.

“uh… so, like — imma cut to the chase, with everything goin’ on at your place, i don’t love the idea of you stayin’ there tonight. i’m comin’ to get you. you’re stayin’ here.” he makes up a quick excuse and feels kind of bad about it. his own desire toward you being masked as genuine concern for a friend. he expects some questioning, maybe even some resistance— but you perk up instantly.

“okay!”

and that’s exactly how you end up cradled in his lap with the rings at his knuckles tickling your opening from how deep in your greedy, drooling pussy they were.

“hmm— mm—huh—” you’re whining, all incoherent and fucked out with your cheek smushed against him, only two orgasms in. jj is grinning ear to ear, like some kind of sicko — never in his life thinking you’d want him like this. he almost wished he’d kept up the act for longer, preyed on your twitter account for longer to see what else you’d say, but he couldn’t help himself. he’d wanted you since you met in high school, and he was hungry.

“what’d i tell ya about not asking for things? could’ve just told me dude, i literally wanted this more than you.” he thinks out loud and you groan, pulling yourself up face to face with the handsome blonde.

“don’t call me dude when your fingers are n’side me!” you slur, lip all puffy and pouted. he smirks, unable to stop himself from finding amusement in your neediness and tilts his head a little so he was breathing right into your mouth.

“i’m sorry that’s my bad. baby.” he corrects himself, before pressing his lips to yours. that was much better.