#he wants his face covered yep

[tthehair]

plants a kiss to his cheek, leaving a nice lipstick mark!

oh, that’s nice. unsure of what he’s done to deserve it, but he’s breaking out into a grin now, ���can i have another one?”

[gghostwriter]

You’re the Risk, I’ll Take it

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times Spencer followed advice and the one time he didn't (or as I'd like to better explain it, the three times Spencer fails to flirt and the one time it worked)

Warning: fluff! Just fluff!

A/n: I wanted to write something cute this time with Season 1 Spencer in mind--one of the best eras if you ask me. Hopefully I did him justice in this. The idea of this cute baby boy trying to flirt is too precious honestly. Also, if a guy did the last act for me, I'd fold like a lawn chair, yep. Risk by Gracie Abrams was on repeat while I was writing this and no proof reading was done. Let me know what you think!

Main masterlist

The first move Spencer tried was advised by Derek Morgan, the renowned ladies man

“Kid, admit it. You like her,” Morgan pestered him with a slight smile on his face. 

Spencer scoffed, trying to throw him off from the truth but monumentally failing. “S-she’s my closest friend. We joined the team at the same time, of course I feel most comfortable with her,” he noted his companion’s eyebrows raising higher and higher with each word. “Plus, she likes hearing what I say even if it has no relation to the case. She asks me questions and genuinely remembers.”

Now it was Morgan’s turn to scoff. “You could be talking about Star Trek and it’s physics mistakes and she’ll still hang on to every word you say.” 

“Actually, there aren’t that many scientific errors in Star Trek. Especially considering—”

“Reid.” 

“Right,” he nodded once, trying to push away the urge to continue further. “That still doesn’t mean I like her.” 

Morgan tapped the wheel twice before turning to face his partner. “Then answer me this. How do you feel when she walks through the office doors?” 

“Happy, I get the same feeling when I see you or Elle come in too,” he found his fingers very interesting then. Like they held the key to unlocking the mysteries of Dark Matter and the answer to the controversial scientific theory ‘Do parallel universe exist?’. He wasn’t telling the whole truth—didn’t want to because how could he, a man of science, explain the other bodily reactions he has when you walk in a room. How he hears his heart stutter in his chest with just a glimpse of you—the first time it happened, he thought nothing of it, but by the third, he considered making an appointment with a specialist for possible heart arrhythmia. How he sees the room brighten when you smile in his direction—perhaps light sensitivity, and how he feels his body heat up when you utter the words ‘Good morning, Spence.’—possibly hot flashes. Self diagnosis that he ruled out once he found you to be the common denominator. That left him with a riddle, a personal conundrum he lost countless of sleep over trying to solve.

“That’s a lie, Reid. You can’t be that happy to see me. You never blush like a tomato when I enter the room. For Greenaway, I could see it but for me, nu-uh,” he argued back. “Okay, what about when she’s not there, what do you feel then?” 

“Sad, similar to how I’d react with you and Elle,” he blurted out another half truth. Another surface level answer that doesn’t fully cover how lost he feels without your comforting presence beside him, how gloomy any room he enters in without you in it, and how incomplete his days were without hearing your voice. 

Morgan snickered. “Lies, you have to learn how to lie better to fool an FBI profiler, Reid. You don’t think I—the team, notice that you’re quieter when she isn’t on the case with us?”

“Wait. Wait, the whole team?” His voice goes up an octave. You were part of the team, did that mean you knew of the effect you had on him too? “D-Does everyone have the same idea as you do? Everyone?” 

“Not everyone, kid. Your secret is still safe,” He smiled wide like a cat that caught the canary. “So it’s true then, you like her.” 

Spencer knew there was no escape from trap, he was just glad that his secret still remained classified from the other party involved. His shoulders sagged as he nodded to confirm Morgan’s findings.

“So what’s your play then?”

His head whipped to face his companion so fast he felt his meticulously styled hair escape the confines of his ears. “Play? There’s no play. Nothing. I’m not going to do anything and this conversation stays between us.” 

“Oh c’mon lover boy, you have to do something,” Morgan challenged. “Y’know she likes you back, right?” 

“No she doesn’t! I mean, why would she?” Spencer rambled on, unable to comprehend what Morgan was saying. “She’s her—beautiful, smart, and cool. Every case we get, there’s at least one police officer hitting on her. And I’m me—I talk too much and get awkward in every situation. The exact opposite!”

“Reid, don’t sell yourself short. She likes you, trust me on this.” He paused, listening to the update on the intercom before continuing on. “So here’s what you’re going to do. Compliment her outfit, girls appreciate that. Easy enough, don’t you think?”

Spencer really didn’t think so after all he had the tendency to go off on a tangent whenever he talks to you but he agrees nonetheless. If Morgan believes he could do it then he couldn’t mess it up, right?

———

Wrong. It was wrong to take Morgan’s advice. Never mind he can recall everything he has ever read, never mind he has an IQ of 187. What good were his talents if he, Dr. Spencer Reid, couldn’t string the proper sentences along?

It started when you walked into the office wearing this light yellow blouse that made you more radiant than he thought possible. It was as if the a ray of sun had graced the bullpen and stunned his mind into silence, rendering him tongue-tied. All his monologues and hypothesis bouncing around his overactive brain fell away and the only thing he could think of was how pretty you look.

Morgan cleared his throat, bringing him back to the living. Spencer averted his awestruck gaze and busied himself with an imaginary lint on his red sweater. 

“Hey Y/N, did anything good this weekend?” Morgan asked as you settled into your desk adjacent to his.

You shrugged nonchalantly and teased back. “I bet it wasn’t good as yours, Morgan. Picked anyone up last Friday or are your charms no longer working?”

“Huh, i see where this is going. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of bed today.”

Morgan chanced a peek at Spencer and internally groaned. How you didn’t notice the kid’s crush on you was beyond him—all the staring and blushing he does when you’re near was a dead giveaway.

“Reid. Reid,” Morgan called out.

He closed his mouth and gulped. “Hm, what?” 

Morgan pointedly stared at him and titled his head towards your direction. A movement lost to you as you noted Elle leaving Gideon’s office.

Spencer opened his mouth to catch your attention but before he could even utter your name, Elle intervened. “Question for you, the foot path killer. Why’d he stutter?”

You swiveled to face her, not having caught Spencer’s intent to speak to you. The unit chief then called them in for a case—an arson case in a university campus. His shoulders drooped as they rushed to the jet afterwards with no chance of small talk. 

When there was a lull in the plane—case discussion finished, he steeled his already apprehensive nerves and took the chance, quickly wishing he hadn’t.

“S-so, your shirt’s yellow,” he stated out loud like it was some sort of revelation. 

“Yes,” you drawled out, unsure as to where he was going with this. “That’s right, Spencer.”

He drummed his fingers on the table and continued on. “Did you know that airplanes tend to avoid the color yellow as it causes dizziness and nausea? A number of studies have shown those exact results and that’s why it’s almost never used in interiors of various forms of transportation and rarely use in advertising. It’s like how the red is the most common color used by restaurants as it psychologically makes the viewer hungry.”

You looked down on your top. Yellow was one of your favorites and you specifically chose this as Penelope said and you quote, it looks good on you, brings out your eyes. Boy genius would probably react to it too so naively you splurged on it. But this—this wasn’t the response you were hoping for. “Spence, are you saying my shirt is making you feel nauseous?”

He blushed and stammered out a strong refusal. “What, no! No! I—I meant to say—you, you look nice.”

You giggled under your breath, finding his long-winded route to giving you a compliment cute. “Nice nice or airsickness nice?” 

“Nice! Just nice!” He defended on, his voice cracking at the end. He caught Morgan’s wide eyed gaze then as if he couldn’t believe what train wreck he just witnessed. 

Cheeks heating up further, Spencer slouched in his seat and busied himself with the files wishing that he could build a memory eraser so he could wipe the events from his and the team’s minds or better yet, a time machine to redo the whole thing all over again.

The second move Spencer tried was advised by Elle Greenaway, the new recruit

“Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” He questioned during one of their cases in San Diego. It bothered him since the start of the case. How Morgan had teased him about his incapability of asking out the opposite sex. Never mind that you defended him right back, that’s a lie, it made him feel special that you did but the joke was still true. A cold stone truth. 

Elle laughed, flipping her phone repeatedly on the table while waiting for the unsub to take the bait. “I don’t know how you know half the stuff you know, but I’m glad you do.”

“Do you think that’s why I can’t get a date?” He asked as he fiddled with the unfinished Rubik’s cube in his hands.

“Have you ever asked her out?”

There was no need to ask who Elle was referring to, everyone knew of his innocent—well maybe not so innocent at times specifically during his state of dreaming—crush for the second youngest member of the team. He shifted his eyes to focus a few tables before his—at you, sitting beside JJ. “No."

“That’s why you can’t get a date.” 

One of the precincts phone then rang, it was the unsub, causing him to table that conversation in his vast memory. 

———

There’s an English saying that states ‘the second time is the charm’ and Spencer was hoping there were some truth to the idiom even with no scientific explanation to back it up. 

A few cases after San Diego, he got an opening that he was unexpectedly looking for. The team was on their way back from a case in Virginia. It was late and the profilers were all tucked in their little corners of the jet decompressing while you and Spencer were huddled on the sofa quietly discussing Doctor Who. 

“How could you say your favorite is the Ninth Doctor when you haven’t even seen the older episodes?” He rambled, clearly he would have to do something about your limited knowledge in the great universe of Doctor Who. He’d like to explain it all, 695 episodes of the classic era to you. He’d take any topic really just to have your interest.

You stared into his hazel speckled eyes and smiled, amused by his reaction. “It’s a bit hard to catch up on a show that’s been around since the 70s. Plus, it’s a challenge to look for copies.” 

“Actually, the show started in the 60s—1963, to be exact,” he clarified. “Garcia has copies we could borrow and watch together. If that’s—” he cleared his throat and clenched his fists closed, feeling his nails dig into his palms. “—that’s alright with you. If—if not, there’s a convention happening this weekend. I have an extra ticket, if you want to come with—only if you’re not busy, I mean.”

“And risk you spoiling every episode to me? I’d rather watch it alone, if you don’t mind.”

That dragged his optimism to a crash as if a twenty ton weight landed on his chest, rendering him immovable. Of course you were going to say no. There was no proof that you’d reciprocate his interests—he inwardly cursed himself for believing otherwise.

“But, I’d like to go with you to the convention,” you said and silently added as your date to yourself, shifting in your seat with a blush blooming on your cheeks at the thought. “Always wanted to go to one. If you’re fine with me not being in a costume. I think it’ll be too late to find one, don’t you think?”

Just like that, the weight on his chest lifted, making him feel weightless with glee. A wide smile grew on his face, threatening to burst his cheeks as he shook his head. “That’s alright! But you—you can always dress up as Rose!”

You titled your head to the side. “Rose?” 

“You know, the Ninth Doctor’s companion?”

“I know who she is, Spence. I just thought you didn’t watch the revived series?”

He softly scoffed. “I never said that! I watched it too, mainly to compare it to the classics but I’ve seen it.”

You leaned in, wanting to ask about his opinion on it. “Well, what do you think? I happen to be part of the minority who think the actor who reprised the role did alright.”

He liked seeing you like this. It made him feel like a puppy who had his owner’s undivided attention. All wide eyed and interested in his conjectures as to why the actor was alright himself but the problems were his short stint—making people vilify him over that decision—and the material some of the writers came up with. He appreciated you nodding along and supplying your own thoughts on the subject. It warmed his heart that here was a beautiful, smart, and cool person—way out of his league, he might add—giving her precious time away to discuss a nerdy sci-fi show that he could not rant and rave to about to anyone on the team, except for Penelope, and she’s rarely on the field with them. 

Your show of interest made him feel seen. Not as an agent with 3 PHDs, not as a genius with 187 IQ, but rather as a person with a right to express himself and occupy space. He wasn’t Agent Spencer Reid with you nor Dr. Spencer Reid, he was just Spencer who likes to watch Doctor Who and read literature in their original language. 

The third move Spencer did was proposed by Penelope Garcia, the spirited tech analyst 

“What do you mean you took her to a convention? For a date?” Penelope squeaked out, unable to comprehend the logic behind the genius’ actions.

“She said she always wanted to go,” Spencer stated as the elevator stopped on the fourth floor. He had fun over the weekend. Going around booths with you, listening to invited guest panels talk about the behind the scenes, explaining the reference every costume that you’ve pointed out, and just basking in your presence beyond cases. It was a memory he had replayed over and over after it had ended. It occupied his whole mind, and that’s saying a lot, causing him to do nothing and sit in his leather sofa and smile like a lunatic during the rest of the weekend.

“Well yeah, but that’s not date material! A date is supposed to be intimate—you and I go to conventions together, do you count that as a date?” 

“What? No! No, of course not!” 

“Exactly, boy wonder. Then what makes you think she’ll count that as a date?” She countered back as she entered her office with Spencer in tow. 

Silence. Oh.

Penelope sighed, having read the despair painting his face. “Did you at least dress up as the Ninth Doctor?”

“What? No. No, I went as the Fourth Doctor. I even hand-knitted the scarf myself.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before repeating what she just heard. “You didn’t dress up as her Doctor?”

“No,” he paused, unsure where she was going with this. “Should I had?”

“Yes! Yes, you should have!” Penelope slapped his arm out of frustration. “Why didn’t you call me once she said yes? We could have talked game plan or strategy or at least have gotten you a leather jacket to match her choice of companion.”

“Oh, I messed up then, didn’t I?” He slumped despondently on the office chair. “You—you don’t think she thought of it as a date at all?”

She played with her feathered pen, trying to find a way to salvage it for Spencer. “Did you take her out to dinner after?”

He shook his head, finally realizing his mistake.

“Oh Spencer,” she approached gently. “I can scoop for details with Y/N later on and report back to you?”

He shook his head. It didn’t feel right to have Penelope betray your trust and go behind your back over a mistake that he made. You were a honest person and you deserved to be treated with respect and reverence even though all he wanted now was peer into your viewpoint of the date—not date—and figure out once and for all if you saw him as anything beyond a co-worker and a friend. 

“Hm, I think I might just a solution,” Penelope blurted out of the blue. 

He looked up with a sliver of hope blooming in his chest. Maybe third time’s the charm. Besides, Penelope was the colleague you spent most of your time out with. You once mentioned that you considered her your best friend, besides from him of course. 

“You can bake her a batch of cookies! No one can say no to that,” she excitedly explained, believing it to be full proof—except for the fact that he doesn’t know how to bake. He wants to ask you out on a date but not to the expense of burning his whole apartment building down. 

“I can’t—I can’t bake, Garcia,” he squeaked out. “Did you know that 44% of all reported home fires are caused by cooking and baking. Those fires have resulted in an average of 470 civilian deaths and 4,150 civilian—”

She interrupted. “I’ll give you my recipe and detailed instructions to follow. That’ll make it easy peasy for you, boy genius.”

“C-can’t I just buy from her favorite bakery instead?”

“No can do, Doctor. Her favorite cookies just so happen to be my creation. She told me so herself.”

“Well, can’t I just ask you to make it for me? I’ll buy the ingredients!”

“Nope,” she dragged out her refusal. “Think of it as an act of service to her. Plus don’t you think it’s highly romantic when she finds out that you baked them yourself?” She swooned just thinking about it.

“Romantic? It won’t be romantic when I burn my apartment down, Garcia.”

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll supervise if you want. This weekend, granted if we’re free. But you—” she pointed her feathered pen at him. “—better be prepared and I’m just supervising, okay? I’m not baking it myself.”

He sighed. At least having Garcia around would make it easier.

———-

It did not in fact make it easier. Spencer burnt two batches before six pieces were considered edible. Garcia couldn’t understand, hell, he also couldn’t. Baking was precise and from his scientific viewpoint, it was a lot like chemistry. He loved science and anything academic, so how is it that he failed miserably, twice, when it came to baking? 

He shook his head as he entered the office. The first one—he stole a glance at Hotch’s office and saw movement—correction, the second one arriving early. Sometimes he wondered if the unit chief ever goes home, first in and last out.

He settled in his seat before promptly fidgeting from anticipation. Statistically speaking, you arrive earlier than Morgan or Elle which gave him enough time to gift the paper bag of cookies sitting hidden in his satchel without bringing attention to and embarrassing himself. He’d like to have little to no audience if he ever does mess it up for the third time. 

He brought out the cookies, afraid they’ll get crushed between his hardbound books, and placed them on your desk before standing to wash his clammy hands and make coffee. Counter intuitive of him to do as he was already a bundle of nerves and by drinking caffeine he was doubling that but maybe the smell would calm him before shooting up his energy by drinking.

As he exited the mens room, Penelope stepped out of the elevator and squealed. “Is she here? Is she? Did I miss it?”

He shook his head vigorously, trying to silence her excited glees. “No, she’s not here yet. She’ll—” he looked at his watch and ran the numbers. “—be here soon. I’m about to brew coffee. Do you want some?” He opened the door for both of them to enter the bullpen.

“Ick, no thanks,” Penelope said, scrunching her nose at the thought of drinking even a sip before scurrying away to her cave. “I’d rather not ruin my taste buds on bad coffee.”

He laughed and turned towards the kitchenette. With the coffee brewing, he drummed his fingers on the counter and mentally rehearsed what he would say to you. If he practiced, there’s less chance of messing it up like the first time, right? In his state of concentration, he missed you entering the office in all of your beautiful glory.

“Ooh cookies!” you exclaimed as you opened the unknown package on your table.

Spencer abruptly turned, hitting his side on the corners as he did. His eyes widened as he registered you holding the unsigned paper bag of treats on your desk. 

“They must be from Penny,” You continued on, oblivious to his presence and the devastation your remark caused him. Of course, he’d find another way to mess it up. You glanced around and your smile widened as you took in his handsome presence. “Oh hey Spence! Look, Penny made me cookies!” You tip-toed out of excitement. 

He smiled at your enthusiasm for something as simple as treats in the morning. The giggle you gave out as you entered the kitchenette was enough for him to slightly care less for the truth. He loved bringing out the happiness in you. It was like his own personal sunshine shining down on him, soaking him with vitamin D and boosting his overall sense of wellbeing. “Do you want coffee with that? It’s still hot,” he offered. 

You tapped the side of your hips with his as a sign of good will. “Thanks, Spence! This is turning out to be a great day, don’t you think?”

He watched as you busied yourself with putting cream and sugar in your of cup and sighed wistfully. “I think so too.”

And the last move Spencer did was recommended by no one but himself, the awkward 187 genius

With all three acts not delivering, he promised to try one last time without any outside interference besides from yours in his memory. You always did tell him to be himself in any situation, no matter how much he stumbled through any awkward situation—always there giving him a pat on the back for encouragement. 

Over the weekend, he spent his time reading two of your favorite books—which didn’t take much but he did read them again and again, regardless of his eidetic memory, trying to understand why these specific books were your comfort. Always pushed within the confines of your go bag, dog-eared and brown from age. He wanted to know how they’ve become an extension of you and how it had shaped you to the woman he has fallen in love with. 

He found himself hunched over his dining table, underlining sentences that made him think of you, scribbling away on the margins (and sometimes on post its too), and tabbing the written pages with a variety of colors that each represent an emotion. The act in it of itself made him feel closer to you than he thought possible. Lines in the books that made him think, ah so this was what formed your kind spirit. This is why your empathy knew no bounds. And this is why your beauty is inside and out.  

Spencer laid down to rest, anxious for the next day, Monday, to come. His heart threatening to beat out of his chest but his mind oddly calm as if it had a precognition that everything would turn out just right.

———

You arrived earlier than he did, throwing him off balance. 

“Hey Spence!” You greeted with a smile. “I got you a croissant and some coffee from that shop near my place.”

He blushed and stammered out a thank you. You were wearing a deep purple blouse that matched the scarf around his neck—the birthday gift you’ve given. He was no believer of the mystics but he took all of these as a sign from the stars. There was no way he would mess this up now.

“I—I got you something too,” he looked inside his satchel, hands shaking from it all. Gods, he wished this would go well or else, he might just die from embarrassment. “It’s nothing much but—I read your two favorite books and just—I wanted to discuss it with you,” he brought out the tabbed copies and presented them to you. “These are for you. I know you have copies of your own but I-I put my own notes on which lines reminded me of you.”

Your face turned red at the notion behind it all. Here was the BAU genius, the certified lover of the classics and the academia, the man who had your affections since day one, reading two contemporary literatures just for him to present you a gift like no other. You reached out and hugged the precious copies to your chest. 

“Thank you, no one’s ever done this for me before,” you breathed out, falling deeper into attraction with the perfection in front of you. “ Hey Spence, I may sound delusional asking this and you can say no if you want to but—” you visibly gulped, unaware of the audience nearby. “—would you like to have dinner with me? I make a mean lasagna.”

He turned red and vigorously nodded. “Y-Yes. Yes, I’d love to have dinner with you.”

You giggled, sounding like wind chimes to his ears. He did too, giggle I mean, from the triumph of finally knowing that his feelings were willingly reciprocated.

“Finally, you love birds!” Morgan shouted as he swung his arm around Spencer. “Didn’t know how much we could take from this pretty boy—” pointing at him “asking for advice and you—” pointing at you “—pretty girl is as dense as a rock. Tell me again how’d you end up as profiler with those observation skills.” 

A hand whacked him at the back. “Way to ruin the moment, Morgan.” Elle chided before turning to Spencer with a smile. “See told you, you could get a date.”

[madamechrissy]

Pervert! Gojo x Shy Fem Reader- then it's some SatoSugu x reader

Explicit- mdni - was an anon request, hope you enjoy the slutty content lol

Pervert! Gojo who loves your body so much, he has to grab your ass and tits constantly, he's got his hand right under your skirt, rubbing you over your panties as you're sitting at dinner with Shoko, Nanami and Sugu, and you're looking at him with wide eyes, hissing 'Satoru!' and he leans close, white hair tickling your cheek, and whispers in your ear- 'this is where you're weak'.

Pervert! Gojo who now slips his long fingers in your slick heat, making you tremble as you're starting to soak his fingers, as everyone is laughing and talking. But Satoru can't help himself from pumping in your gummy little walls, and you hope no one hears the squishing of your wetness.

Pervert! Gojo who answers the phone as Suguru calls, as he's fucking your tight pussy the next day, and you're trying to hold in your moans as his cock slams your cervix. 'ha- say hi to Sugu, baby girl' you suck in a breath, looking back and glaring at Gojo. 'um... h-hi, Suguru!' you cover your mouth, stifling your moan, and Suguru laughs softly 'you all having fun?'

Pervert! Gojo who laughs as he feels your cunt contracting, and he leans down to whisper in your ear 'aw, Suguru turning you on baby?' you shake your head nervously, but Satoru just shoves in deep and rolls his hips, and you can't stop the cry. 'oh...' you hear over the phone, as he realizes his best friend is fucking his girl. 'want a pic, Sugu?'

Pervert! Gojo who now snaps not a pic but a vid of your puffy lips sucking up his length. 'Satoru!' 'what baby, let him see your pretty pussy... ah- there buddy.' you're burying your face in the blankets in embarrassment, but also you're even wetter, so wet it's stupid. 'oh fuck...' Suguru says softly and you're a blushing mess 'you're a lucky man, Satoru. Can I stay on the phone?' you squeak at that.

Pervert! Gojo who next time has Suguru on video chat, as he strokes his big cock while Satoru is giving him a show of his cum pouring out of your abused little hole. 'look at that, her slutty pussy, ain't it so pretty Sugu?' he says, smacking your ass, and you shiver as you hear Suguru's moan. 'think I need to come visit' 'do you want Suguru to visit baby?' you just nod, earning both of their chuckles

Pervert! Gojo who now strokes his cock as he watches Suguru's long hair fall over your thighs, as Suguru's tongue is lapping at your pussy, fucking in and out of you as his dark violet eyes look up at you. You're tentatively touching his head, hips bucking up, as Satoru watches, sighing, 'use your fingers too, she loves that.' Suguru slides one in, and presses up, and you fall apart, as the pressure in your tummy rises 'there, there!' you cry out. 'She's so pretty, Satoru...' 'Isn't she? oh she's gonna cum! you gotta keep pressing... yep there'

Pervert! Gojo who after you cum, all over Suguru's tongue and fingers, has you on all fours, sucking his pretty cock, tonguing that precum out of his tip, as he watches Pervert! Geto lining his cock up with your perfect, slick cunt, and watches your pretty eyes look up at him, cooing 'pretty lil slut, be a good cock sleeve for Sugu, would you baby?'

Pervert! Gojo who moans as he sees Suguru's cock stretch your pussy, and Pervert! Geto moans out 'f-fuck... she's s'tight... mm, you feel s'good Princess...' to you, as you moan around Satoru's cock, and he glares then, narrowing his blue eyes. 'don't fall in love, dammit, Suguru I swear to god' and Suguru's balls are smacking your clit as his big hands press into your hips, moaning. 'too late, Satoru, pussy is too fucking good'

Pervert! Gojo and Pervert! Geto who are taking turns fucking your pussy and throat, as they both make you cum over and over, until Satoru is licking Suguru's cum out of your pussy, and you're sucking yourself off Suguru, as he cups your face, smirking up at Satoru. 'we're gonna have to share, don't we share everything Satoru?' and now you're stuck with TWO pervert boyfriends, but you can't really complain when you're cumming again, only for them to video it and send it to a disgruntled Nanami Kento.

Full Gojo fics of mine: Duke Gojo story here - Lawyer Gojo here - Yandere Gojo here - CEO Gojo here - Doctor Gojo here - Gojo Drabbles

[salsakiyoomi]

“just ditch it already.”

sukuna practically whines, watching you hunched over your desk that was covered with various papers and textbooks, and you were scribbling away in a notebook, eyes darting back and forth between the words.

you groan, “i told you, i have a final in two days.”

“so? you still have two whole days to study,” he says, crossing his arms as he lounges on your bed.

you turn to look at him, a scowl on your face, “fuck off.” you huff and he smirks.

“come on baby, i haven’t spent time with you for nearly two weeks.” he says and you roll your eyes, “jeez, who knew you were so clingy?”

he frowns, “i’m not clingy.”

“sure.” you hum, still focused at the work in hand.

a few moments pass and silence before he's calling out your name in a quiet murmur, “are you done yet?” he asks.

“no, i'm not even halfway done.” you sigh, “listen, i promise i'll spend time with you as soon as i'm done with this chapter, okay?”

he grumbles something incoherent under his breath and slumps back on your bed — thirty minutes pass and he watches as you let put a sigh of relief.

“you're done?” he asks, a bit enthusiastic.

“yep, made some flashcards.” you say, holding a stack of flashcards in your hand, “will you help me?”

he rolls his eyes, “fine.” he says as you join him on the bed, “bur you owe me.”

“yeah yeah,” you huff, handing him the flashcards for him to read the questions out for you.

a few cards and minutes later he lets out a loud sigh, “can we take a break?” he asks, and you frown at him, “ryo, there are only a few cards left.”

“yeah, but this is getting so boring. how are you not tired yet?” he says, sighing dramatically once more.

wow, he could really be a drama queen if he wanted to.

you suppress a giggle and he shoots you a nasty glare before you watch his eyes light up as if having a light bulb moment.

“tell you what,” he begins, “for every question you get right, i get a kiss, yeah?”

“no.” you deadpan, and before he could whine about why, you continue, “you know damn well it won't end at just kisses.”

“how low do you think of me?” he asks, feigning offense.

“i don't think low of you, i’m just being realistic.” you say.

“come on, it won't hurt for you to try.” he says, “besides, it'll make this so much less boring.”

after a bit more convincing, you finally gave in, opting to give him a soft peck for every question you got right.

of course, it didn't end there.

that's how you found yourself under him on your bed, with his lips latched on to the soft skin of your neck, your flashcards discarded somewhere and the only thing you can focus on is the way his hands wander all over your body, caressing and pinching at the soft skin.

“fuck you, ryomen.” you murmur breathlessly and you feel him smirk against your skin.

“anytime.”

taglist : @samaraxmorgan @call-memissbrightside @axryl @matsugumisou + send an ask to be added!

[tsukii0002]

Mammon: Mc, this year for my birthday I want you to tell me how much you love me and all the things you love me for *clearly nervous*.

Mc: Are you sure that's what you want?

Mammon: Yep.

Mc: Okey, suit yourself.

Mc: *reading a list that reaches the floor and extends more than a metre* And remember that time you came all dishevelled for pick up a little yellow flower to give me, because you said you knew I missed the human world? Well, at that moment I restrained myself from breaking your ribs in a hug.

Mammon: *completely red, covering his face*

Mc: And that time-

Asmo: Mc we've been here for two hours, I don't know how much longer Mammon will last!!!!

Levi: He's literally steaming out of his head lol.

Mc: Well it's what I wanted so I'll fulfill it, Where was I? Ah yes, when you did such a thing and my idea was to google how to marry a demon immediately.

Satan: I think this is going to kill him.

Beel: *content* But he'll be happy for a long time.

Belphie: *annoyed* And bragging for a long time.

Lucifer: *holds back a grin*

Mc: You also unlocked a whole new level of tolerance in me, because if someone else did some of the things you do, honey, I'd break their legs...

Happy birthday Mammon!! 💛

.

.

[italiangirlcoresblog]

main masterlist \\ f1 masterlist

-----------------••✩🍪☕️🩹✩••----------------

𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛

✩ : your boyfriend wants to play strip poker on your flight back home: what could possibly go wrong?

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : lando norris

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : mature, humor

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1,2k

✍︎ : the temptation took over

-------------------------❦︎-------------------------

“Strip poker?”

You were slouched on one of the luxurious leather seats of the private jet that was bringing you and Lando back to London, your legs lounged over his lap as he drew lazy circles on your skin with his thumb, when that, quote unquote, “brilliant” idea had popped into his head.

“Yep,” he replied casually, totally unfazed by the skeptical and almost suspicious tone in your voice, completely ignoring your arched brow, his hands already dealing the cards on the table between the two of you.

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re scared,” he teased, his voice dripping with amusement as he flashed you a grin.

You scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

“Then a little playing won’t be a problem for you, will it?” Maybe it was the challenging glint in his eyes, or maybe you just wanted to wipe that mocking smirk right off his face, but you eventually gave in with a resigned sigh, though the look you gave him spoke loudly.

“You’re going down, Norris.”

“Oh, I hope so,” he winked, after giving you a not-so-subtle once‐over, biting down on his lower lip in an effort to suppress a smug smirk. The match hadn’t even started yet, and he’d already turned you into a blushing mess.

The first few hands went by smoothly, both of you losing your socks and shoes almost immediately—Lando claiming it was all part of his “strategy”. But as the game continued, his confidence seemed to falter, the realization that maybe that wasn’t such a great idea crystal clear in his now very much distressed gaze.

“Not so cocky now, are we?” you teased him, the struggle on his face making it harder not to laugh.

“Big words for someone who's about to lose this hand,” he shot back, laying down his cards with an annoyingly wide grin tugging at his lips. “Straight flush.”

“Damn it,” you muttered, shrugging off your hoodie in one swift motion and tossing it in his face, his chuckle muffled under the soft fabric. But when he saw what you were actually wearing underneath, his laugh quickly died down, his breath hitching.

“No shirt?” His voice was low, hoarse even, almost as if he’d been talking too much—except he hadn’t. He must had noticed too, because he cleared his throat as he shifted in his place, his gaze lingering a moment too long on the lace bra that barely covered your chest.

“It’s comfier this way,” you answered with a casual shrug, trying to play it cool despite the way your skin tingled under his attention.

“Uh-huh.” The corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk, making it clear that he’d seen your reaction, but surprisingly enough he didn’t say anything, focusing back on the game as if nothing had happened. However, his luck didn’t last long, as you showed a winning hand, mocking the smug expression he’d now lost.

“Off with the shirt, Norris,” you nodded toward his white button-up, arms crossed as you—impatiently—waited for him to remove it. He took his sweet time, his eyes never leaving yours as he loosened the buttons one after the other, the anticipation almost painful.

“Happy now?” he asked as he finally discarded the shirt, his mischievous tone immediately sending alarm bells ringing in your head—which, needless to say, you shamelessly ignored.

“Thrilled,” you replied with the straightest face you managed to pull, though you couldn’t help but let your gaze wander briefly over his toned body.

“Eyes up here,” he snapped his fingers at you before pointing them back to his face, an absolutely devilish grin plastered on it.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you rolled your eyes at him, but the faint blush that painted your cheeks gave you away.

The next few rounds were a blur. You couldn’t stop glancing at him, the way his chest caught the light that streamed through the jet windows, or how his arms flexed every time he leaned forward. And, apparently, the same went for Lando. Until…

“Full house.” You displayed your cards on the table for him to see, trying and miserably failing to bite back the triumphant smile that was slowly creeping on your face.

“This is rigged,” he declared, slumping in his seat as he slammed his own cards down in frustration.

“Or maybe you just suck,” you cooed sweetly, chin rested on your hands.

“Ha ha,” he deadpanned, leaning back in his chair—and then it happened. At first, you didn’t realize what he was doing, but when you saw his hands falling down to his lap and starting to unbuckle his pants you froze, your throat suddenly dry.

“Baby.” His voice was barely audible, the sound drowned out by the noise of your heart slamming against your ribcage.

“What?” you breathed out, so low that for a moment you thought he hadn’t caught it.

“You wanna help?” It wasn’t a question—not really: it was an invitation, one he knew you wouldn’t refuse. Slowly, you stood, rounding the table and stopping right in front of him. You felt his gaze burning holes into your skin as he followed your every move, before meeting yours with an intensity that stole your breath away.

His hands found your hips, guiding you down onto him until you were straddling his lap, your knees sinking in the plush seat as you placed your palms on his shoulders to steady yourself. Then, glances still intertwined, you lightly brushed your fingers along his bare chest and trailed them down his abs, his muscles tensing beneath your touch.

By the time your hands reached for his belt, Lando’s breathing had become erratic, the sight of him unraveling under your fingertips only spurring you on. Your hands moved deliberately slow as you worked on the buckle, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips as you savored the moment—your personal revenge for the show he’d put on not long before.

When you “casually” grazed the skin just above the waistband of his pants he inhaled sharply, his hands sliding down to your thighs to give them a warning squeeze. “Careful,” he hissed, his body jerking away from yours at the sudden contact.

“I’m just helping you out. That’s what you wanted, right?” you asked, feigning innocence, though the heat in your touch told a very different story.

The metal clicked as you finally loosened his belt, its cool leather smooth against your palms, and before Lando even had the chance to say anything, you undid the button of his pants with a flick of your fingers, tugging the zipper down right after. That was it for him.

His hands ran up to your sides, anchoring you to his lap as his mouth flew to yours, the kiss urgent as he tasted your lips like a starved man, exploring every inch of them with his tongue. There was no trace left of the subtle teasing that had been lingering in the air until then, replaced by a raw need that left you wanting more after you pulled away, both breathless and flushed.

“Next time,” you panted as Lando immediately started working his way down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your throat, “we’re playing Monopoly.”

-----------------••✩🍪☕️🩹✩••----------------

©italiangirlcoresblog // do not copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work on any platforms

[clockwayswrites]

5 Times the JL Learned Batman was Married and the 1 Time They Met the Spouse.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Four.

Clark stood up and positioned himself between the door and his injured teammate before it even opened, though not much before. His own delayed reaction made sense when it opened to show one of Batman’s teammates. While for the longest the League had thought Batman ‘worked alone’, they were now aware of there being a variety of heroes in Gotham, even if they were far from sure how many there might be or who those heroes were.

Nightingale was a notable exception what with his influence on the newest generation of heroes.

The young man flashed Clark a cheery smile and a little two finger wave. The motion almost distracting with the bright blue that marked the fingers.

“Hey Supes, I got notified that B was laid up.”

Clark paused. “You did?”

“Yep, I’m down as B’s emergency contact for Justice League matters. Feel free to confirm it if you want,” Nightingale said and leaned against the door frame with an easy shrug. “That’s exactly the sort of paranoia that B would approve of.”

It really was was, Clark thought. He grabbed the tablet that he had been using and pulled up Batman’s personnel file. It was a sparse file, of course, but clear as day Nightingale listed was next to ‘emergency contact’. Under his name as an alternative was ‘Condor’.

“Who’s Condor?”

“Me,” rumbled the man who stepped up behind Nightingale. He wasn’t as tall as the other hero, but he was broad. His lower face was covered in some sort of sleek gas mask, though Clark’s focus was pulled to the red lenses of the domino mask.

He certainly made for an intimidating figure.

Nightingale rolled his eyes. “Dramatic.”

Condor just shrugged. “I’m here to be the muscle.”

Clark’s brow furrowed. “For… what?”

“Oh, we’re taking B home!” Nightingale, well, chirped and pushed himself off the doorway.

Clark stepped in the way. “Batman needs to stay under medical supervision.”

“We know. We’re taking him to the Batcave. There’s a full medical set up there and we already have Batman’s personal doctor on hand to look him over,” Nightingale said as he smoothly edged his way around Clark. “Not that we don’t think you all have done your best! Just that way we’ll have his status for our files and he can recover at home.”

“Besides, you don’t want you-know-who to get wind that B is laid up like this and come storming the castle,” Condor said and came to take the other end of the medical bed.

Nightingale gave an over-the-top shudder. “Yeah, best to avoid that, he’s not having a good week already.”

“I, no, I don’t know who,” Clark said with a frown, though he did finally step out of their way. He couldn’t really tell them no, they did have control over Batman’s care. Still, he carefully watched them undo the clasps that would let them take off the top of the bed like a stretcher.

Condor lifted his end of the bed. “B’s husband, of course. Guy’s a little protective.”

“A little?” Nightingale asked as he pivoted with his end of the bed so they could start walking. “Calling him ‘a little’ protective is like calling what happened on Monday a ‘little’ multidimensional incident.”

Condor shrugged, the bed shifting a little with the motion, though it barely rocked Batman. “Okay, so maybe he’d rewrite the world for B if it came to it. That’s exactly why we’re getting B back to the Cave where he can be safe and settled before his paramour gets back from dealing with that ‘little’ multidimensional incident.”

“Right,” agreed Nightingale. “Thanks for looking after him, Supes!”

“You’re welcome?” Clark replied as the two heroes left the room, Batman carried between them.

[bluetimeombre]

・❥ ‘Are you Hugh down under?’

You and Hugh were the stars of the biggest movie, Wolverine and Ladypool, and fans love the two of you.

[not proof-read, some sexual innuendo, just Hugh being hot af]

part two

You and Hugh Jackman being in love for twenty-five minutes (part one)

Puppy interview

Did you take any props home with you?

'Yea, I took Hugh home,' you said, letting a puppy climb over you and onto your shoulders as Hugh laughed. 'In his suit as well.'

'In the suit,' he said, stroking the puppy in his lap.

'Yep. Great in the house, goes with all my furniture. He's well trained.'

Hugh nodded, enthusiastically. 'I'm not toilet trained, but I'm trained in other ways.'

You raise your brows and the crew laugh. 'I want to know what the other ways are now.' You smirk.

Hugh smirked back, shrugging his shoulders as he held up the puppy. 'Well, maybe you'll find out.'

What was your favourite scene to film?

'Any scene with the incredible talent sitting next to me,' Hugh started. 'Every scene was such fun and never felt like work when I got to work with her. I've never had so much fun playing a character. The whole movie at first, you know, the idea was up in the air for me about coming back but just to get the chance to work with such a talent- an honour and a privilege and I can't wait to do it again.'

Your lips pout into a smile as you listen to him. You focused on Hugh as he smiled at you. 'My favourite scene to film was when I touched his abs.'

He laughed.

'No, seriously it's been a dream of mine to work with Hugh and I can't talk about it too much cause I'd probably get emotional and that'd be embarrassing. I've grown an emotional attachment to him now,; you added.

Hugh looked around at all of the puppies. 'Is there more puppies here than usual?'

'Oh yea, there's more!'

'Someone's been making out,' said Hugh.

'Not us,' you said, leaning over.

He laughed. God, he was always laughing with you.

With Alison Hammond

The two of you sat next to each other, legs bumping into each other repeatedly to tease each other. At times you'd just throw your leg over his thigh and he'd bounce his leg. (Fans ate it up)

'Alright you two,' said Alison.

'Sorry,' you laugh. 'He's taking up too much space.'

'The Wolverine spread,' he said.

You laughed.

Alison gave her a loud laugh. 'Well, is it true, Hugh?' she asked. 'Are you huge down under?'

The three of you laughed, rocking back and forth and hitting your knees.

'I started the rumour,' you said. 'So, take that as you will.'

Hugh showed Alison his shoe as she fanned herself off.

You took another card she offered you and fanned yourself off as Hugh sat back, throwing his arms behind his head.

'So, we should probably talk about the film,' said Alison.

'Let's just talk about Hugh,' you said, leaning back just like he was. 'Ever won an Oscar, Hugh?'

He pulled a straight face at you.

'Now, can I say, Y/N, this is a bit awkward as usually it's just me and Hugh. Last time we had a date, so I've brought champagne, but only two glasses,’ she pulled off the cover that showed off the bucket.

'I'll take the bottle,' you said, reaching over the two of them. 'I can leave you guys, don't worry.'

Hugh grabbed your arm as you tried to leave. 'No, no, you can be our mediator.'

'Your intimacy coordinator more like,' you said as Alison laughed. 'I've seen how these interviews go Alison, I've never had Hugh feed me chocolates.'

Hugh reached over the table as Alison talked about 'a throuple' and he opened the box of chocolates, throwing away the thin layer of film covering them with his teeth. You only realised what was going on seconds before he fed you chocolate from his mouth. You tried to stay calm the closer you got and took the chocolate, chewing down happily.

'Feel like I'm interrupting something,' said Alison.

You stole the box from Hugh. 'Your turn, Alison!'

'So how tough was it working with Hugh, Y/N?'

You slapped your thighs dramatically. 'The toughest ever. You know sometimes I'd actually have to look at his face and I mean, have you seen this-' you frame his face, holding his chin. 'How can I work with this?'

He stuck his tongue out.

(Almost this whole interview was the two of you flirting)

Hot one's interview

'You're watching hot ones. It's the show with hot questions and even hotter wings. Today we're joined by Y/N and Hugh Jackman, the stars of Wolverine and Ladypool.'

'I only let Wolverine come first so we could use the greatest showman in the movie,' you said. 'For Hugh.'

First wing and first question.

You and Hugh cheers with Sean before taking a bite. You nod, 'Good wing, subtle, nice.' You went in for another bite, surprising them.

'Oh, you're going for another bite,' said Hugh, eyes watching your lips (comments couldn't let it go).

'Yeah, I like things hot,' you tell him, giving him a dramatic wink.

'What was the movie that you watched of each other that made you realise you needed to work with each other?' asked Sean.

'As soon as I saw the first Ladypool,' said Hugh. 'I knew these two characters had to be together on screen. I was like these two characters had to be together and I'd literally announced my retirement three days before.'

'Mine was probably when I saw the first ten minutes of Australia,' you said, referring the first ten minutes in which he turns up shirtless and sweaty. 'Knew I needed to see it real-time.'

Hugh huffed out a laugh.

'Or Logan. That was, a masterpiece of a film.'

The next couple wings went down well, getting through the questions. It was the fifth when things started to get heated.

'Yep, that's a step up,' said Hugh as he went for the milk.

'Can you recall the most takes you've had to do for a scene requested by a director?' asked Sean.

'Our steamy scene in the car had quite a few takes,' you said, Hugh agreeing with a nod. 'Kept messing up, you see,' you said, winking.

'That was a difficult scene,' said Hugh.

'Why cause you had to kiss me?'

Hugh shook his head. 'That was the easiest part, I'm laughing, I'm not crying cause of the heat. But doing some of those... positions we had to do in the car, it was hard to work around.'

'I got cramp in my leg.'

He laughed loudly at the memory.

The next wing messed the two of you up, the heat creating sweat. All Hugh could do was laugh and you laughed at him as he went red.

'Look, look at this!' Hugh puts his arm up, showing his bicep.

'What am I looking at? Your raging muscles?' you ask, looking closer.

'No, the sweat.'

'Oh, sorry I was distracted.'

On the next wing, Hugh repeated he took too big a bite, how it was too big and all you had to do was give him a look with raised brows.

You and Hugh take a lie detector test

First hooked up was Hugh, you watched in glee as ties were wrapped around him.

'This is a new kink,' you said, smiling all too widely as Hugh laughed at you.

You started by asking him some simple questions that were easy answers, like his name and where he was born. 'Are you really Australian?'

'Yes.'

You looked to Louis. 'Tell me it's a lie.'

'Truth.'

'This Australian bit has got so far,' you say.

'You love it,' he said.

'We'll find out when I'm hooked up.'

'How you seen all my movies?' you asked.

He thought for a moment. 'No.'

'Deceptive.'

The two of you looked at each other with amused looks and big eyes. 'You can tell me you've seen them all, you can be a fan, I don't mind.'

He shrugged. 'Maybe I have.'

'You're a fan it's fine.'

'I'm wearing my I heart Y/N underpants today,' he said.

You looked wide-eyed and hopeful at Louis.

'Deceptive.'

You cheer.

'In 2008 you were said to be the sexiest man alive-'

'Said to be,' he scoffed. 'Pretty sure the right word is elected.'

'The question is how many copies of the magazine do you have?' you asked.

'How many do you have?' he threw back.

'I'm not the one on the fucking monitor right now.'

'A standard of fourteen hundred?'

'Is there any more to life than being really, really, really, really, really ridiculously good looking?' you ask, leaning back in your chair. 'That's not on the cards, I just want to know.'

'No.'

'Truthful.'

The two of you cackle. After a couple more questions it was your turn to swap. Hugh took delight in seeing you get tied up.

'Starting to sweat a bit,' you said. 'This really is scary.'

'Yea.'

Again, Hugh started off with some simple questions.

'Last one,' he said. 'Are you single?'

You pulled a straight face as he turned red and watched you. 'Yes, I am. Thank you for reminding me of that fact, Hugh.'

He shook his head. 'Don't worry, we can change that, we can change that.'

'Only if you're offering, bub,' you tease.

'Would you rather have had an Andrew Garfield Spider-man team up than Wolverine?' he asked.

Your jaw dropped as he showed you the question on the card. 'That's not fair I love spiderman and Andrew.'

'But do you love him more than Wolverine?' asked Hugh, feigning seriousness. He waited as you thought about it, head in his hand.

'True,' you said.

'That's a lie.'

'Ha!' Hugh shouted.

'I've shocked myself, man, I must really fancy you,' you said.

Hugh slid over a paper, showing you a picture of Channing Tatum. 'Do you think he would make a good Gambit?'

You try to act cool, he was already in the movie and Hugh knew it. 'Yes, I think he would. It's a shame his movie wasn't made. I feel bad for the guy.'

'Truthful.'

You pick up the picture. 'I love this guy, he's a great guy,' you stare down at the picture, 'He'd made a great Wolverine. I mean, I'm just getting lost in his eyes right now, looking at him.'

Hugh reached over. 'Ok, enough of that,' he took the picture and ripped it up, chucking it behind him.

You and Hugh at the premier

The camera snapped shots of the two of you wearing each other's colours. You were wearing a shimmering golden outfit while Hugh wore red. You had agreed to swap.

The two of you took pictures together, his arm wrapped around your waist, yours going between reaching up to hold his shoulder or holding his hands. You didn't stop for many interviews together, but you spoke a lot on the carpet. That tiktoker, the one good at reading lips had a field day on tiktok when she worked it all out.

Hugh: 'You look great in yellow, you know.'

You: 'You should see the colour of what I'm wearing under here.'

Hugh smirked and laughed. 'You look beautiful tonight.'

It was your turn to blush and tug him along the carpet.

[arislore]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚જ⁀➴ You’re a Dream to Me

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Profiler!Reader

Summary: You’re lonely on a case. Who else to comfort you than Spencer, your boyfriend?

Warnings: nipple play if u squint, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex

Tags: first ever smut fic!!! woooo!!! bigger text under the cut.

Word Count: 2.3k

A sharp knock on your hotel room door had you alert. You fixed your hair and smoothed your shirt, looking out the peephole. There stood Spencer, his ear-length hair wilder than usual. You opened the door, ushering him in, then swiftly closing it behind him.

“Is everything okay?” you asked him, your hand feathering over his elbow.

“Uh, yeah, you texted me,” he said, but it came out more like a question.

You furrowed your brows. “Right, yeah, sorry, I guess I forgot.”

“It’s fine. More than fine, really.” He took a step towards the bed, then stopped and looked at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yep, mm-hmm, I’m good.” You looked down, suddenly feeling all-too-hot under his gaze.

“Really?” He paused, putting his hand on your arm, then sliding it down to your hip. “Because you seem… nervous. It’s not like you.”

And it isn’t, not really. If anything, between the two of you, he’s the nervous one–always second-guessing himself and worrying that you’re not completely happy with him, even though you constantly remind him that he makes you happier than you’ve ever been.

“I guess I am, just a little bit,” you admit, letting out a long breath. You whisper, “I’ve never done this before.”

He smiles, although it’s unsure. “You’ve never done what?”

You pause, taking another deep breath. “Right, I guess you haven’t either.”

“What are we talking about?” He seems thoroughly confused, although he wouldn’t be if you could just get over yourself and spit it out.

“You know, sex!” You throw your hands in the air, then sigh, dragging them down your face. “I mean, like, with people I know in the next room. It’s new for me!”

“Wait, sex? We’re talking about sex?” His eyebrows shoot up, his mouth agape. “You could have led with that!”

“I thought it was obvious!” You laugh, covering your mouth.

He chuckles, holding your jaw in his hand. “Not even slightly.”

Your eyes flutter shut at the contact as you lean into his hand. “Okay, well, next time I text you at one in the morning that I’m lonely, please know that I’m talking about sex.”

“Okay, I think I got it,” He grinned, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.  He asks softly, “Did you still want to?”

You nod, kissing his palm. “Please.”

He dragged his thumb down to your lips, gently tugging on the bottom one. He kissed you slowly, his other hand on the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. You molded your body to his, wrapping an arm around his neck. He grabbed your ass, making you gasp. He used the opportunity to explore your mouth. As he kissed you, he slid his hand down the front of your body, brushing his fingertips against your clothed nipple. You made a small sound of pleasure, but it was gone as quick as it came.

You pulled away from him, just to grab a breath, before diving back in, hungrier this time. He slipped his fingers under the hem of your shirt, moving them to your hips, and guiding you towards the edge of the bed. As your legs bumped it, he began kissing along your jaw, and lifting your shirt slowly. He pulled it over your head, his eyes raking across your figure, and landing on your bare breasts. Instinctually, you moved to cover them, but paused.

The goal is to be naked, isn’t it?

You realized that you’re much closer to that than he is, so you reach forward, unbuttoning his cardigan. You pushed it off of his shoulders, hearing a soft clack of the buttons when it hits the floor. You began working on his tie, struggling to undo the knot.

After a moment, he grabs your hands. He mumbles, “I can do it.”

“You shouldn’t do it so tight,” you told him, and he grins.

“It’s not tight.” He undid his tie in one motion, sliding it around and off of his neck. “See?”

“Show off,” you mumbled, undoing his shirt’s top buttons.

He worked on the bottom ones, meeting you in the middle. You pushed the shirt off of him, letting your fingers drag down his front, ghosting them over his growing erection. He sucked in a breath as your fingers danced along it, before pulling your hand away entirely and dropping it to your side.

You sat on the edge of the bed, pulling yourself towards the pillows and coaxing him on top of you. He settled on his knees between your legs, hovering over you.

He kissed you gently, running his hands up your sides and palming at your breasts.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” he mumbled, just barely audible. “Could look at you forever and never get bored.”

Heat rose to your cheeks as you tangled your fingers in his hair. “Please, Spencer.”

He tugged on your nipple, and you dropped your head back, exposing your neck. His breath fanned across your neck as he kissed it, kneading your breast in his other hand.

“Spencer…” you whined, placing your hands on his wrists.

He paused, lifting his head and looking up at you. “Hm?”

“Touch me, please…” You tucked his hair behind his ear, resting your hand on the back of his neck. “Need you so bad.”

How can he refuse?

“So pretty when you ask nicely,” he said softly, kissing your cheek before sitting up.

He unbuttoned your jeans, pulling down the zipper and tucking his fingers in at the waistband, pulling them to the curve of your ass.

“Up,” he said, and you lifted your hips.

He pulled them all the way off, grabbing your ankle and pulling you closer to him. You lost your balance, and landed on your back, your head on the edge of the pillows. You took a second to catch your breath, barely registering the feather-light touches of his lips against your leg, going up, up, up, until his breath was hot against your clothed cunt. He kissed your mound, then your clit, making you swallow, and hard. You lifted your head up to watch him, your heart beating faster when you made eye contact.

“You don’t have to…” you said softly, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Are you kidding? It’s my favorite part.” He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs.

He licked a fat stripe from your entrance to your clit as you tilted your head back, sucking in a breath. He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking on it gently. You moaned softly, tangling your fingers in his hair.

He pulled back a few inches. “Look at me.”

You loosened your grip on his hair, meeting his gaze.

“I need you to be quiet, okay?” He traced his index finger around your entrance. “You don’t want anyone to hear you, right?”

You nodded as he dipped his finger in, then pulled it right back out.

“Need to hear your words.”

You nodded again, swallowing. “I’ll… I’ll be quiet.”

He smiled. “Good.”

He flattened his tongue against your clit, lifting it up and down as he pushed two fingers into your entrance, curling them up. Your eyes fluttered shut at the pressure. Your skin felt like it was on fire, and the only relief you got was his face against your cunt, lapping at your arousal.

“Fuck, Spencer… feels so good…” you said quietly, opening your eyes and looking down at him.

He hummed his approval at you, vibrating your clit. Your legs twitched as you began to close them, but he grabbed them and held them in place. His eyes were closed as he humped the bed, his little noises of pleasure muffled.

This continued until the pleasure grew unbearably. You had to bite down on your fist to keep from crying out. You began grinding your hips against his face, taking deep breaths. He started sucking on your clit again, this time a little rougher. Your legs closed around his head, too fast for him to stop you with just one arm as he fingerfucked you.

“Spencer…” you paused, covering your mouth to muffle your moans. “Gonna cum!”

He continued his motions exactly, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You tugged on his hair, not sure if you want to pull him away or hold him in place. You settle for the latter.

Your leg muscles began to spasm. You let go of his hair so you could cover your mouth with both hands as you cried out, screwing your eyes shut until they hurt. He helped you through your orgasm, not stopping until you pushed him away, your palm against his forehead.

“Was that okay?” he asked, wiping his chin on the back of his hand.

You didn’t answer, unable to catch your breath. You went limp against the mattress, staring blankly at the ceiling. He crawled up your body and kissed you against your open mouth, making your taste your own arousal. His fingers intertwined with your own. You could feel his cock straining against his trousers on your leg, and you kissed him back, before pushing him away slightly.

“Do y’wanna fuck me?” you asked once you could breathe again, watching his round, brown eyes rake across your body.

He nodded, and you reached down to the waistline of his trousers, unbuttoning and unzipping them, then pulling them down past his narrow hips. He pulled them off the rest of the way, tossing them onto the floor next to the bed. As he pulled his briefs off, you sat up a little bit, grabbing his cock and pumping it once, twice, three times, before he grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t,” he said softly, pushing your hand away.

He guided the head towards your entrance, pushing it in slowly. You gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist and digging your heels into his lower back.

“Please, Spence…” you whine, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him closer. “Need to feel you… all of you.”

He pushed the rest of his length in, groaning as he bottomed out. He stopped, waiting for you to adjust as you gripped his shoulder blades, your legs squeezing his waist.

“Move, please,” you managed to squeak after a moment, pulling him closer until his chest was flush against your own.

He began rocking his hips into yours as he kissed you, your fingers automatically tangling in his hair. You let a little ah, ah, ah, into his mouth, tilting your head back slightly. He fucked you slow and deep, holding your hips in place with his hand. The lewd noises coming from your bodies were enough to make anyone blush, but all you could focus on was how good he made you feel. He snaked his hand between your bodies, finding your clit within seconds. He rubbed it in tight little circles, causing your moans to get louder.

You moaned his name, and he grabbed your head and lifted it until your mouth was covered by his shoulder. He started fucking you harder, still just as deep inside you.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing along your neck. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Love you, too,” you whined, squeezing his shoulder blade. “Don’t stop, please.”

He would never dream of it, especially with the way you’re reacting to every little touch. You tilted your head until it was buried in the crook of his neck, your fingernails raking down his back. He hissed, arching his back slightly, the pace of his hips and fingers unrelenting. Your muffled moans grew louder and your eyes rolled back.

“Tell me how good it feels. Need to know,” he groaned into your ear.

You pried your face from his neck, moving a hand from his back to cover your mouth, muffling a moan, before uncovering it. “It’s so good, Spencer. The best I’ve ever had.”

It was true–no one had ever brought you the pure bliss Spencer had. It took some time for him to learn the technical aspect of sex, but he’s always been a quick study, and he practiced every day with you until he’d mastered it. No one had ever cared that much, and if you think about it hard enough, about how much he loves you, you might start to cry.

You moved your head back, kissing his neck as you got closer to the edge, and with the way his thrusts were getting sloppier, you figured he was close, too. All you could think was Spencer, Spencer, Spencer, like a mantra in your mind.  

Your whole body spasmed as you came, and your vision went white. You didn’t even notice that he pulled out, or that he came on your stomach, until he was no longer on top of you, and was instead on the edge of the bed, grabbing tissues to wipe you off with.

When he moved back, he kissed your forehead, wiping you off. He whispered, as if not to disturb you, “Let’s get you dressed.”

He grabbed a fresh pair of underwear from your go bag, as well as your Winnie the Pooh nightshirt. You were a little embarrassed when he pulled it out, but you brought it because it was old and comfortable, not because you thought it was sexy.

Before he came back over, he pulled his briefs back on. He placed the clothes on the bed, then paused, like he just remembered something.

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back,” he said softly, bending down and kissing your shoulder.

He walked towards the bathroom, running the sink water. After a few minutes, he came back with a warm, wet washcloth, and parted your legs. He cleaned your arousal up, then turned back around and brought the washcloth to the bathroom again. When he came back, he grabbed your underwear, and helped you get it on, then your nightshirt. He crawled into bed with you wordlessly, draping a hand over your waist, and pulling you close.

“We should do that more often,” you mumble, curling into his chest.

“We’ll see if you still say that in the morning.”

[gaddaboutgriffon]

The Year of the Dragon.

(Name edited, credit to @jedipirateking for the suggestion.)

A joke the fandom has been making for a while is that Tim is forever stuck at 17. What if we make that something the rest of the Batclan notice too? (I am not following cannon.)

It was just after the annual Family picture day and the new group portrait was taking the place of last year’s and looking at it they noticed 15 year old Damian is now almost the same height as Tim. And Tim is pretty much the same as last year.

Jason and Damian take the opportunity to tease Tim calling him a shrimp and other short jokes. Which Tim rolls his eyes and goes to work on a case or something with Wayne industries. But Bruce, Dick, and Alfred are more concerned, may feel guilty thinking letting him be a vigilante stunted his growth. And looking back at the photos they have of him notice that he wasn’t growing as much as a normal teen boy should have.

Bruce decides he is going to be more active in running Wayne Enterprises while Alfred plots to cut back Tim’s coffee limit. And Dick is going to help out coordinate the patrols. (He had to move back to Gotham when the Bludhaven city spirit forced all the people out before the city got blown up. It’s a long story but dick has been really down and unmotivated after that.)

Tim is not taking any of this well, and feels like his family being stifling. So he decided to start going through the basement and vault of Drake manor. Which he has been putting off since he didn’t really have time for it between patrols and WE. And in the family heirlooms vault, shoved way in the back with covered in dust and many other things sitting on top, he finds an oak box with an ornately caved dragon on it. Opening it up he finds it is velvet lined and has a large pendant that looks a silver dragon curled deep violet amethyst egg. And next to the pendant is a scroll made of thin leather.

He pulled out the scroll first and tried to read it but it was too faint of lettering to make out in the somewhat dim vault light. But what little he could make out it it was really old 14th century English and mentioned something about a coming of age. He rolls it back up and puts it aside to instead pick up the pendant. When he touches it there is a faint static shock that surprises him other then that the silver and purple necklace doesn’t seem out of the ordinary.

His phone lets off a chime to remind him that diner is in an hour, so he pack the pendant and scroll back in the box and places it in his bag with a few other items he finds interesting and wanted to look into more later. Then returns to Wayne manor to eat before patrol. It isn’t until he wakes up the next morning he realizes that he should have probably read the scroll before touching the pendant.

He wakes up to knocking on his bedroom door and someone yelling at him to get up. He had gotten into the habit of locking his door back when Damian first moved in. He yelps in surprise, falling over because his center of balance is all out of whack when he tried to stand. Now he is fully awake and takes stock of himself.

Scales?

Scales! Why are his arms covered in scales?! His hands look like a mix of paws and talons. He struggles out of the sheets to look at the rest of himself. His pjs are stretched and torn in places to accommodate the new digigrade shape of his legs. Not to mention he now has a long tail and wings and a longer neck. He rushes to his personal bathroom and awkwardly stands up on his two legs so he can get a good look in the mirror. And yep that is a distressed dragon face looking back at him. He catches himself making a weird keening sound as he plops down to sit on the bathroom floor.

Moments later he hears the sound of his bedroom door’s lock being picked. Bruce calling his name and Duke explaining he had heard animal noises from the room. Tim scrabbles to try and get the balcony door unlocked so he can escape and find a way to change back before anyone can see him, but moving on all fours and the new talon hands he is not used too take up too much time and the bedroom door is open.

Living in a family of vigilantes, their reaction time and fight or flight instincts are quick, and Tim is tackled to the floor by Duke while the others start looking at every inch of the room for clues as to what happened to their seemingly missing brother.

Bruce is looking at the dragon in Tim’s pajamas for a second before saying, “Tim? Is that you chum?”

Tim tries to answer but all that comes out is a warbling chuff. Which takes Tim by surprise and has him nearly start to cry in panic. He can’t Talk!

“Hey, you’re ok Tim. Deep breaths. Duke get off him. Breath with me Tim. In 1, 2, 3, 4. Out 1, 2, 3, 4.” Bruce spoke in his soothing a scared child voice. Tim was half annoyed at himself for how much it helped.

“B, Look at this!” Dick said holding the box with the scroll and dragon pendent instead open. Now the gem is a very pale see through purple with only a sliver on the bottom the original color.

They take it down to the bat cave and get to work deciphering the scroll. Turns out the Drake family line are descendants of some ancient medieval prince named Aragorn and that there was a family tradition that on the sixteenth birthday the child would have to live a year in dragon form to let it catch up in maturity. But after the dragon form catches up they will be able to freely shift between forms. But if they don’t follow the tradition they don’t age properly, and the longer they put off the tradition the longer they have to spend as a dragon.

And that is all I had time for before bed. So who does this affect the family dynamic? What about the relationship between Tim and Damian? How do we bring Danny Phantom into this? Does he think Tim is a ghost dragon at first?

[catssluvr]

𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅, spencer reid

spencer reid x roommate!reader

in which everybody’s falling in love and you’re falling behind or you come back from an awful date and spencer comforts you. well, he does his best

warnings: kinda sad for a bit, r really wants to be loved, two idiots in love <3

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You take off your shoes as soon as you reach your apartment's floor, exhaustion taking over. One hand reaches inside the bag to pull of the keys and the other rubs against your face one more time. You're sure your mascara is all smudged already. Not that you would ever cry for someone like that, but you don't think you've heard someone talk about their car as much as him and it honestly made you get sleepy.

You regret accepting to go on a blind date, deeply. It's never been your thing so why did you decide it was a good idea?

The truth is that it's hard to watch all of your friends fall in love and brag about their happy relationships when you don't even know how it feels to truly be loved. It's also not great that you're in love with your roommate when it's clearly not reciprocate. You have so much love to give, so why can't you find love as well?

Besides, the guy you just went out with is a total jerk. He made at least four sex jokes before the drinks arrived and bragged about his career for about half of the time (the other half was about his car). As soon as dinner was over you practically bolted out the restaurant, ignoring his comment about a 'second desert'. It's safe to say you never want to see him again.

Unlocking the door with a sigh, you are met with the sight of Spencer sitting comfortably on the couch with a book in his hands. You curse inside your head, it's not that you don't want to see him. In fact, you think he looks absolutely adorable in a sweatshirt all curled up in his seat. But you don't want him to see you like this, it's obvious your date didn't go well.

"Hey, you're home early." His voice is laced with fatigue. He leaves the book behind and approaches you, his signature smile in full display.

"Yep." You use all your strength to give him a smile back. You don't want to be unpleasant with him just because of a not so great date. Turning your back to him just as fast to place your shoes on the shoe rack.

"How did it go?" He asks tentatively and you frown at the way he seems nervous to know the answer.

"Uh- not great." You decide to not elaborate it, all you want right now is to bury yourself in your bed covers and cry.

"Oh, i'm sorry." You can't bring yourself to look him in the eye, you really don't want his pity. What you miss is the way a sparkle of what looks like relief flashes across his eyes. Before you can dismiss yourself he adds, "You know, given half a billion potential soulmates, the chances of finding your true love on a blind date are one in ten thousand."

As much as you want to tell him that's not necessarily what you need to hear right now, you don't feel like you have enough strength to do it. You know he's mostly trying to comfort you and he's just really not an expert when it comes to emotions.

"Yeah, i guess so." You answer and it's now his time to frown. You're usually way more excited to hear about his statistics. "I'm just gonna go to my room. Night, Spence." And then you're scrambling to your room, closing the door behind you before he can have a reaction.

Exhaling deeply, you throw your bag somewhere in the room and move to the bathroom. You turn on the shower and quickly discard your clothes to the floor, feeling immediately better when the warm water hits your skin.

Stepping out, you get yourself into some comfy sweats and a large old shirt before rushing through your skincare. Not bothering to dry your hair, you slip under the covers with a content hum. You can't help but imagine how it would be better if Spencer was laying with you, it would be tempting to curl up against his sweatshirt and forget about all of your problems.

Snapping out of your daze, you grab your laptop and settle for a comfort show that you know will help you relax. Your stomach grumbles slightly in hunger and you now realize how you had barely touched your food at dinner. Ignoring it anyway because the chances of you leaving your bed for the rest of the night are very low.

A gentle knock sounds from your door and you grumble, dragging yourself to open it. But as soon as you do, regret fills you for getting annoyed at all. There stands Spencer, wide and concerned eyes staring at you.

Now you take a moment to actually look at him and not just his sweatshirt. His hair is mussed by his position in the couch, his mismatched socks peeking from his sweatpants and his lanky hands hold a bowl of mac and cheese and a can of your favorite soda - like he's read your mind. It just reminds you of a few of the reasons to why you're so head over heels for him. He can read you like a book without having to profile you.

Sometimes you wonder how you're ever even going to get over him. Since becoming his roommate a year ago, this was the first time you had gone out on a date. It's not that you didn't want to go on dates, not being the most outgoing person came with it's liabilities. But you always thought going out with someone would make you forget about Spencer. Turns out it just made you realize how perfect he is compared to any other guy.

"I-I just thought maybe this could cheer you up. I know i wasn't much of a help." He smiles sheepishly, standing awkwardly on his feet. Your heart clenches at remembering how you dismissed him earlier.

"Thank you. You really didn't have to." You smile back kindly, looking at him with nothing but adoration.

He clears his throat nervously, "You know- uh- there's a study that says hugs slow down the heart rate and decreases the level of cortisol, the stress hormone. In turn, it makes people feel relaxed and safe." He stutters along his words.

You can't help but chuckle at his peculiar way of offering a hug. "A hug would be great, Spence." You say as you take the food from his and settle it somewhere on your bed. Returning quickly to stand by him and wrapping your arms around his shoulder with no hesitation.

He visibly relaxes at that, nose burying in your head and breathing in lightly. His sweatshirt really does feel just as soft as it looks. He squeezes you, hard enough to pull a giggle out of you but somehow affectionately.

You find yourself not wanting to pull away, a dramatic pout forming in your mouth when you force yourself to do it.

"You wanna make me company while i eat? We can watch Star Trek." Your fingers move almost involuntarily to untangle his curls as you speak.

He nods eagerly before mumbling, "Yes, but we're watching Friends. Last time i picked so we should watch something you like this time." Before he's walking to your bed, sitting comfortably with the covers to his lap.

You almost blush at the thought of him wanting to watch your favorite sitcom with you.

When you join him in bed, he's already setting up the show on your laptop and your heart almost bursts at how comfortable you feel with it, with him.

You eat your mac and cheese, occasionally offering him a few bites.

You feel a weight on your shoulder and turn to see Spencer with his cheek pressed up against it comfortably. You question if he feels sleepy but his he looks wide awake, gaze fixated on the screen in front of you.

Your thoughts drift again as you look at him. You question if maybe this i all just a silly crush because he's so nice to you. But you really don't think you're supposed to be thinking about a silly crush on a date with another guy.

Or maybe you just need to tell him. Maybe if you confess it to him it'll be easier for you. It wouldn't be a secret anymore and even though he doesn't feel the same, a weight would be lifted off your shoulders. You don't really get to think much about it before the words are spilling out of your mouth.

"Spencer?" You call gently and he answers with a small hum, not moving from his position on your shoulder. "I only went on that date because of you." You admit, heart breaking when you feel him tense up and sit up.

"Why- What do you mean?" His brows furrow in confusion.

"I only went on a date because i thought it would help me get over my feelings for you, turns out i'm way too in love for that. And i'm sorry, i know it's one sided. But can we please keep being friends? I promise i can pretend we didn't have this talk- i just needed to get it off my chest." You feel your eyes grow wet as the words come out, imagining the worse scenarios possible. It's already bad enough to feel like you're never going to experience true love, you don't want to lose your best friend too.

"You think i don't love you?" Spencer seems even more confused now, but he looks at you more gently than ever. His eyes glow with the dim yellow light and you find it hard to concentrate on his words.

"Not the way i do, Spence." You breath out, eyes fully glassy now and you're sure that anything can cause you to fall apart now.

"I leave you coffee and a note every morning, i've read all of your favorite books just so i could learn about your interests, i got an email just so you could send me videos of cats and i don't feel disgusted with the idea of eating your food or giving you hugs - not at all." He pauses before adding, "You think i don't love you?" He asks again, just as gentle as before - if not more. It's more of an affirmation then a question.

"Oh." You can't help but feel like you've been blind for all this time. You were so stuck with thinking that you would never find someone you could comfortably show your love for that you didn't notice he was right there, right under the same roof.

"I'm such an idiot." You chuckle, rubbing the tears off your eyes with the back of your hands.

"You are. But i'm also a complete idiot for never doing anything about it." He grinned sweetly, moving to sit closer and tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Hm, how 'bout i kiss you, you kiss me back, and we call it even?" You play with the long sleeves of his sweatshirt, smile mirroring his.

Spencer's cheeks redden as he pretends to think before he lets out a chuckle of his own, "I'm in."

You have to contain your smile when you lean closer, lips finally touching his after waiting for so long. And now that you get to do it, you don't think you ever want to stop. His hands gently hold your face, thumbs rubbing against your cheeks in the softest way, as if you can break with anything.

It doesn't last as long as you would have wished, both your smiles getting in the way.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

love you,

cat 🤍

[monzamash]

lando norris x you rating – mature (sex, coarse language) blurb for monzamusings ✨

“honey, you need to be quiet.”

lando’s head nearly spun off his shoulders at your stern warning, quickly catching his pouty bottom lip between his front teeth, “no no no…” he whined with burning forearms and a sheen of sweat covering his brow.

you don’t know how you ended up in the study of daniel riccardo’s la mansion, riding the man you swore was only a hook-up, on what looked like a stupidly expensive vintage leather lounge. presumably imported from italy, hiding generations of history and secrets – your sinful act now forever stitched into the frayed seams.

or maybe it was the way he stepped into the dimly-lit backyard with that handsome fucking face and a backwards cap; the loosely buttoned down shirt didn't hurt either, showing off prime real estate on his chest you so desperately wanted to mark. his hazel eyes scanned the room before he found yours staring back.

it didn't take long for him to end up by your side and temporarily ease the tension only the two of you could feel. the familiar hand sliding down your back had you tingling, chills cascading down your exposed back while his warm fingertips barely brushed over your hip. he pressed a friendly kiss to your cheek, said hello and it was pathetic, really, the way you curled into his touch, aching already.

"good to see you."

"and you. congrats on the win."

"thank you."

short, to the point. no funny business, just two people having a conversation and telepathically undressing each other.

totally under control.

but really when you zeroed in on the details, the most likely reason for your spontaneous fuck in daniel's study was undoubtedly his teasing lips hovering beside your ear, warm breath tickling your delicate skin as he whispered, “thought of you a lot after the win back in my hotel room.”

there was something innately wicked about lando norris and how quickly he could have you tied in knots behind closed doors, quivering into his calloused fingertips. and with anyone else, you’d be mortified by how quickly you came, arched into his heaving chest while his lips floated beside your ear, spurring you on. but you were both equally hooked on each other, fucked beyond the "casual" label.

“ah baby you feel so good.” lando whimpered through gritted teeth as you fished his cock out of his tight briefs, slid him in with a soft hum and took control. he clawed at your delicious hips rolling over him, again and again, sending him into another dimension entirely.

he looked almost angelic with his ocean eyes clamped shut, eyelashes fluttering over his freckled cheeks as every surge of pleasure twitched at his knitted brows. you knew he was nearing the end of his tether when his pink lips slightly parted and nostrils flared; the deep grumble of pleasure changing from rough and calculated to soft, high pitched whimpers. it was his tell and you’d loved it from the second you heard it – it was desperate, almost adolescent but god it made you shudder with pleasure every time without fail.

“close, honey?”

“uh-huh,” he panted, eyes shut and death gripping your shaking thighs.

“want you to come inside me.”

“uh-huh. yep. god, yes please.” oh, he was detonating.

“feel so full, lan – let me take it,” you coaxed and ran your fingertips along the intricate muscles dancing under the skin of his tensed neck, admiring until his jaw slacked open. maybe you were a bit hasty to cover his mouth with your firm hand, gasping when you met a set of wide, shocked eyes looking up at you.

“baby i’m so sorry.” you pouted but held the pace you knew he needed to get off and he nodded in time with the steamy whimpers he was muffling into palm of your hand.

“you’re so good to me.” he managed to mumble before his strong arm slipped around your waist to hold you down, bottoming out in your slick, tight cunt as he shakily bucked through the blinding white light.

lando frantically hummed praise and adoration in a voice an octave higher than yours as he painted your insides, nipping every inch on your damp neck as he floated down from the clouds, dazed smile etched into that look you knew all too well.

“they won't miss us for another five.”

a//n – y'all bamboozled me right at the end with the poll and i'd already finished writing this one but needy friends to lovers lando will be out soon i promise x

[verstappenverse]

Five More Minutes

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max delays the day, wrapped up in you.

764 words / Masterlist

The morning light filters through the thin curtains of your bedroom, casting soft, golden beams across the bed. You shift slightly under the warmth of the covers, feeling the familiar weight of Max’s arm draped across your waist. You blink a few times trying to wake up, but Max’s hold tightens as you attempt to move.

“Where do you think you're going?” His voice is low and rough, clearly still groggy from sleep.

“I have to get up,” you mumble, your voice equally thick with sleep. You try to wriggle free, but Max pulls you even closer his breath warm against the back of your neck.

“Mmm, no you don’t.” His arm snakes around you even tighter pinning you to the bed as he nuzzles his face into your hair.

You let out a small laugh as your body sinks back into the comfort of the bed. “Max, seriously. I need to get up.”

“Not happening,” he replies, his voice filled with a mix of sleepiness and determination. “I’ve already decided you’re staying right here.”

“Decided?” you tease, turning your head slightly to glance at him over your shoulder. His eyes are half-closed, but there’s a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Yep. It’s a race. Me versus your alarm clock.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder, his scruffy morning stubble grazing your skin.

“Pretty sure my alarm already won,” you mutter, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as his warmth melts you back into the mattress.

Max chuckles, the sound deep and lazy and you feel the vibration of his laughter against your back. “Nope. False start. Disqualified. My win.”

You groan, half in frustration, half in amusement. “Max I really have to get up. Work remember?”

He lets out a dramatic sigh, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks. “Who needs work when you can just stay here with me? I mean really, what’s so great about getting up?”

You roll your eyes though he can’t see it. “I don’t know, maybe earning a living?”

Max hums thoughtfully. “Nah. Besides, I’m quite comfortable right now, and I’m pretty sure you are too.” His hand strokes your side, drawing small circles on your bare hip.

You bite your lip to keep from smiling too much. “You’re impossible you know that?”

“I’ve heard that once or twice,” he admits, leaning forward to press another kiss to the back of your neck.

You can’t help but laugh this time, shaking your head as you pretend to push him away, though your efforts are half-hearted at best.

“Just admit it. You don’t actually want to leave.” Max declares confidently.

“I didn’t actually say that,” you point out, though you don’t make another attempt to escape his grip.

Max raises an eyebrow. “Actions speak louder than words you know.”

You huff softly, turning in his arms so you can face him. His hair is a mess sticking out in every direction, and his blue eyes are still heavy with sleep, but there’s a mischievous glint in them that makes your heart flip. “You’re really not letting me go are you?”

He grins, the kind of boyish, cheeky smile that makes your stomach flutter. “Not a chance.”

You sigh dramatically, though the warmth of his body against yours is making it hard to pretend you’re actually bothered by this. “Max, I have to go to work.”

Max shrugs, his grip still firm but gentle as he pulls you even closer.

“You’re such a brat,” you tease, poking him lightly in the chest.

He catches your hand with his, intertwining your fingers. His thumb rubs circles over your knuckles as he watches you with those soft, adoring eyes. “So, can’t we just stay like this for a bit longer? I’ll make it worth your while. Maybe pancakes later?”

You quirk an eyebrow. “You? Making pancakes? Now that I’ve got to see.”

He grins wider. “I'm sure I can figure a pancake out, thank you very much.”

You snort, resting your head against his chest. “Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Maybe,” Max admits, his voice vibrating against you. “But it can be our disaster.”

There’s a long comfortable silence as you let yourself relax in his arms, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling you into a peaceful state. The outside world can wait just a little longer you reason.

“Okay” you hum eventually, closing your eyes as you snuggle deeper into him. “Five more minutes.”

Max chuckles softly, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Five more minutes,” he agrees.

[drytacomeat]

𝐈 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐆𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐨 𝐖𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐎𝐮𝐭

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐞/𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥? 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐠𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 (𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐥 𝐠𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐛𝐡), 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 (𝐢𝐝𝐜 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐭) , 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲

reblogs appreciated!!

(not super proofread sorry)

3.9k words

Enjoy!

“Alright, Ed. I need your opinion,” you sigh as you and Eddie walked into your room. He threw his book bag onto your bed and gently took yours from your shoulders.

“Why, you know I am always most delighted to offer my opinions! It is what I’m known for after all,” he dramatized.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you smiled widely at him.

Eddie couldn’t help but blush a bit. Your plush cheeks and pretty smile were seemingly the light of his life. He had to stare at your face every chance he got, taking all of you in like it was his first time meeting you all over again.

“Eddie?” you spoke breaking him out of his trance.

“Yep?” he responded, trying to feign casualty before clearing his throat.

“Alright, so I wore this lingerie set today. You’re a guy, so tell me if you think it’s sexy or not. I thought it was, but this guy I’m supposed to be hooking up with didn’t even bat an eye at the sight of the bra strap,” you pouted as you tugged at the hem of your shirt.

Eddie’s fist clenched at the mention of this “guy.” Of course he knew who the guy was. It was some guy on the basketball team. Eddie hadn’t known his name, but he knew that he was in Jason’s douchebag entourage. He knew those types of dudes would never appreciate you, or any woman for that matter, because their heads were either up their own ass or in “laundry baskets.”

In his opinion, nobody deserved you except for him, and he, himself, may be pushing it.

Nevertheless, Eddie swallowed thickly and nodded at your request. He figured you’d have just showed him your bra strap or a small sliver of the thing. Surely you would just keep it modest. You guys were best friends, and Eddie shouldn’t even began to think of you as anything less.

Poor boy was in complete shock when you began taking your shirt off.

His eyes grew comically wide as your bare, plush stomach and fat tits covered in dark green lace came into view.

His jaw dropped and his mouth ran dry as you had completely removed the shirt and began adjusting your tits in the bra.

Pinch him because Eddie swore he must’ve already died and been in heaven.

You continued to observe yourself in the mirror, waiting for Eddie’s response, but it never came.

The silence caused you to grow nervous. You were quite confident in yourself, but the lack of praise or taunt was starting to irk you.

“Okay, so is it…sexy?” you smiled nervously, your confidence withering a bit.

Eddie had to squeeze his eyes shut and think about the most gnarly situations possible for his dick not to get hard. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable. He opened his eyes and looked at your timid stance. God, you were beautiful.

He nodded rapidly, albeit a little late.

“Yes! Uhm…so sexy indeed. Yep, I don’t think I have ever seen anything sexier,” he rambled as his curls bounced with the rapid nods of his head, hands waving to and fro.

Your nerves calmed down immediately as you visibly loosened. Your smile grew wider again, and you began posing in a silly manner, now feeling better about yourself. Eddie always had that effect on you. It really sucked that he would never feel anything romantic towards you or any girl really.

“Right! I guess my hookup was just an idiot,” you shrugged and turned away from Eddie but towards your mirror.

Eddie’s throat was incredibly dry, so he grabbed a water bottle from your bedside table, quickly downing it.

“Yeah, well, I may be a two time senior year repeater, but those athlete characters are the real idiots at that school,” he complained and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, whatever. These things are uncomfortable anyway. No point in me dressing up for that dick,” you rambled as you began unfastening it, “I mean, they’re cute, but they provide like no support.”

Eddie finally moved his line of sight back to you just as you dropped your bra completely, bare chest completely on display through the mirror. Eddie whimpered and began to choke on his water.

You turned around startled.

You quickly moved over to Eddie to grab the water bottle from his hand and began to pat his back soothingly.

“You okay, Eds? How did you even manage to choke on water?” you joked.

Eddie was now having a coughing fit from the proximity of your tits to his face. He could feel his dick growing rapidly inside his tight ripped jeans. He was sure he was leaking, and if you got any closer, he would possibly cream his pants.

“Yep, nope. I’m fine! Just peachy!” he chirped and gave a big, fake smile.

You stood back up, looking down at his face for assurance. Once you figured he was in fact alright, you sauntered back over to the mirror.

“Sorry, Eddie, can you hand me my bra? It’s like right beside you under the covers. It’s so much more comfortable than the lingerie,” you reasoned.

He swallowed trying to compose himself. He was panicking because if he stood up, his hard cock would be on full display, and it was definitely noticeable. He was a bit of a grower after all.

“Yeah, I’ll hand your royal highness thy brassiere,” he tried to joke but it came out stiffly. He reached for the bra, subconsciously fingering the material in his hands, imagining he was the one taking this off of you. Instead of getting up, he leaned forward awkwardly to hand you the bra.

You turned around with a smile, your tits bouncing with the movement, and took the bra from his hands.

As you were putting it on, you murmured, “You’re just sweet as pie, Eddie. Sucks that you’re gay.”

Eddie made a face of confusion.

“What?”

You turned to him and made your way over to the bed to slip your shoes off.

“I said that it sucks that you’re gay. I mean you’re so sweet to me, so I think you’d be a great boyfriend. Quite the lady’s man,” you explained as you went to get comfortable in your bed, pulling out a magazine. “But I suppose you’d be a good boyfriend to a man too.”

“Excuse me?” he spoke in shock, cutting you off, “Y/n…I’m not gay?”

You put your magazine down quickly.

“What? You’re not?” you asked a bit confused.

“No? I- why would you think so? I never told you I was gay!” he continued.

“But-I mean…everyone called you a, y’know, queer,” you reasoned, “for about as long as I can remember. You’ve sucked guy’s dicks?”

“Oh, Jesus! I have not! Out of all people, I wouldn’t have expected you to believe that bullshit!” he said frantically, sounding hurt.

“Oh fuck. I’m sorry, Eddie. I knew I shouldn’t have believed that shit. I guess I just didn’t want to judge,” you whispered. You felt shame overtake you.

“I know I’m quite the dramatic, but c’mon…gay? Really? Well suppose I’ve never led you to believe anything else, have I?”

Eddie did consider he never talked about girls in a romantic way, and he did talk about the boys who gave him a hard time more than one would deem normal. That was justified though! He just hated them so much. If he didn’t talk about it almost 24/7, he would surely explode.

“Not really! And I have…been so provocative with you. Hell, I just put my tits in your face! That’s borderline sexual harassment. I mean I guess it would still be if you were actually gay, but I just figured since there’s no way in a billion years that you would be attracted to me-,” you rambled on before Eddie quickly cut you off with a rushed kiss.

Eddie was not sure at all you were into him beyond just being friends, but here he was, laying all his cards on the table and taking a chance. He cradled your chubby cheeks in his hands, savoring the warmth of them.

His lips were plush and a bit dry, but they were nice. So, so nice. He was a gentle kisser, taking his time, and clearly outdoing your endeavors. You assume he must’ve had a good deal of experience.

You pushed him away, despite not wanting to break the kiss, but you needed an explanation and a breath of air.

“What was that?” you asked as your chest rapidly moved with your heavy breathing.

“Look, you said I could never be attracted to you in a million years, just wanted to show you that that was most certainly was not the case, my liege,” he smiled. “And it physically pained me to watch you date all those dipshit men who didn’t appreciate you. You don’t know how much I’ve thought about just kicking their asses. However, if anything, I thought you would never be into me. Now, I know it’s just because you thought I was gay?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that, and you had to cover your face out of embarrassment.

“I’m a shitty friend,” you groaned from behind your hands.

He moved your hands away from your face, placing a peck onto your lips. “None of that!”

You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You were intertwined, moving liquidly.

This kiss grew heated quickly, tongues hastily bullying each other into submission and when you inevitably had to pull away for breaths of air, Eddie trailed kisses down your neck.

“Smell so good, always wanted to smell here. You have no fucking idea.”

You let out a bit of a whiny moan at that.

Eddie trailed his hands up and down your back, gripping your waist and pulling at the hem of your shirt.

“This okay?” he huffed as his forehead met yours and looked into your eyes.

“Eddie, I was just half naked in front of you. Take it all off. I literally do not care.”

Eddie wasted no time in pulling your shirt over your head and unfastening your bra with quickness and ease.

As soon as your bra dropped off your shoulders, Eddie paused. He had saw them earlier, but he didn’t let him self really look. Now he was completely taking you in, eyes fixated on your chest.

Eddie bit his lip before he bent down to kiss and suckle at your breasts.

“Pretty, fat fucking titties. Always wanted to feel them in my hands, on my tongue,” he huffed before he dived in to take your nipple into his mouth, massaging the other.

You were left breathless.

Eddie was so entranced with your breasts. He took his time licking and nibbling. He spit onto your right tit and watched it dribble down before licking it up from the areola and suckling harshly onto the nipple.

“So fucking good at that, Eddie,” you moaned. You could feel the vibrations of the whimper Eddie let out at the praise.

Of course the town freak had a thing for praise.

“I need more, Eddie,” you sighed, growing restless at the minuscule teasing at your nipples.

“More?” Eddie sprung up, “Oh I can definitely do that. Might need to get more naked for that though.”

He had a smug smile plastered onto his face as he shrugged. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

Shimmying off your pants was no problem considering you had exposed your large tummy that came with a few gag gifts of rolls, stretch marks, and cellulite with no hesitation. So yeah, showing a little leg was nothing.

Eddie didn’t seem to find any problem with them either. He gripped your meaty thighs, rings indenting on them. He was obsessed with them. He adored every part of your body and getting you this close and bare was surreal to him.

He took his place back buried into you, kissing roughly over your cheeks, neck, and chest, you mewling in response.

His hands slowly made their way down to your stomach, and much to your satisfaction, they didn’t linger there longer than they did on any other part of your body.

With past hook ups, it was seemingly all they would care about, gripping the fat there excessively, resulting in you feeling uncomfortable. You knew it was likely a fetish thing, or just shitty curiosity. It hurt, but you had excepted it, expected it. With Eddie, it was different.

Eddie treated every part of you with the same care and respect. You admired him so much.

He settled one hand at the small of your back and allowed the other to trail it’s way down to the waistband of your underwear, deep green and thick cotton sitting warm atop his fingertips. The bra and panties were not a matching lace set because you didn’t enjoy the itchy lace against your pussy, so you opted for the same color. You leaned back, and Eddie signaled for you to lay your leg atop of his lap so that you would be more spread out.

“Can I?” he asked as he breathed heavily down your neck. You gulped and nodded, head dropping down to look at the hand in your panties.

He trailed lower, marveling at the feeling of the thick tuft of hair over your warm, wet pussy.

Eddie was straining in his boxers, sweat beading on his forehead. Now he’s fingered girls plenty, ate pussy galore, but he’s never gotten to second…third? base. Eddie was still a raging virgin, and on top of all that, this was you he was involved with now.

He wanted to impress and make you feel like you’re getting the best fuck of your life. It just wasn’t helping that he felt like this was his first ever wet dream, or he’d finally became conscious and touched his dick for the first time.

Nevertheless, he lowered his fingers, feeling the wetness sticking to the skin and hair there.

You bit your lip, eagerness coursing through your veins. Eddie circled your clit with his middle and ring finger, eliciting a shuddering moan from you.

He continued to rub tight circles around it as you squirmed in your spot, until he suddenly pulled his hand away.

You looked at him in confusion until he brought the two fingers up to his mouth, sucking your wetness right off of his fingers.

You stared at him in awe, chest heaving. He maintained direct eye contact with you as his plump lips suckled onto the fingers before he pulled them out with a juicy pop, winking teasingly afterwards.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his shamelessness.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, honey,” he smiled. Your face ran hot at that. You couldn’t help the smile that came across your face, so you pulled him into another deep, passionate kiss, tangling your fingers into his hair and gripping his chin harshly.

You could pick up on his impatience as he nipped your lip too hard one too many times and began to squirm. You yanked him back by his curls and looked deeply into his shiny, chocolatey eyes. He stared up at you with his mouth open, caught off guard. Your entire demeanor changed.

“So pretty, Eddie,” you smiled.

“Thank you,” he huffed, “I uh, I want to put my fingers in you, if that’s alright with you? I mean, I’m pretty good at what I do, but everybody’s different. You might not prefer that.”

He was rambling, but you were so unarmored by it. It was so special how considerate he was.

“Want your hands on me everywhere, Ed. Especially in me.”

His smiled widened.

“Well then, take these off for me will ya?” he instructed, pulling the waistband of your panties from your hips and back onto your skin.

You moved your leg from his lap and slowly pulled your panties off.

Eddie eyed you with hunger. The girl of his dreams was right in front of him, all in your naked glory. He could die happy now, and he would die with the image of your naked body on his mind.

“Perfect,” he murmured and beckoned you back to the bed.

You leaned back onto your arms for support as Eddie moved in closer to you, placing your right leg over his lap and having you prop your left leg up onto the bed.

“You’re so beautiful,” he spoke.

“Perfect face,” he placed a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Perfect smell,” he continued, words being muffled by your neck as he peppered kisses there.

He reached up to your tits again to tease your nipples. “Perfect tits.”

He pressed kisses to them as he moved his other hand back down towards your now soaking and throbbing pussy.

You were a bit self conscious at how hairy your pussy was now that you were really seeing it. You’d never cared before in all honesty as you were confident in every aspect of yourself, but you couldn’t help but wonder if Eddie liked it or not.

“So perfect down here,” he couldn’t help the smile showing on his face as he bent down to get a good look at where his hand played with your stiff clit.

Your tummy rolls made if hard for you to see yourself, but you could see his hands moving, and that was hot enough.

His skilled fingers gathered slick drooling from your hole and traced your entire cunt with it.

“Can I go inside, honey?” he asked, looking into your eyes with his own deep, chocolate ones. “You’d make my fingers oh so warm and cozy.”

You nodded with your mouth open in a gasp. Eddie looked at you, enchanted. A small smirk came to his face, and he was reminded just of how hard he was in his tight jeans.

He pulled his lip between his teeth in concentration as he slid his slick middle finger down to your hole.

“You ever played down here?” he panted as he circled your hole, becoming more confident.

“Y-yeah, you know that, Eds,” you managed to joke.

“Yeah, I did know that, but did you ever make yourself cum so hard that you saw stars?”

Now, that question left you speechless.

You could only shake your head “no” in response.

Eddie clicked his tongue and smiled at that, “Thought so.”

He began to circle your pussy hole.

“Bet those dumbass laundry tossers never made you cum either, hm?” he taunted. It was hot, and goofy, but you were impatient!

“Eddie, honestly, if you don’t get your fingers in me right now!”

Eddie smirked and slid his finger down to the knuckle inside you.

“Aw, fuck,” you gasped.

Eddie smiled widely, “So bossy. I love it when you boss me around baby, but you already know that.”

He began gently thrusting his finger in and out of you.

“You’re so wet. Wettest, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

“More, Eds,” you gasped.

With that, he sped up the thrusts of his finger.

“You want more, baby? I’ll give you more, sweet thing,” he swiftly slid his one finger out and reentered you with two.

Your back arched up more and Eddie placed his other hand on the small of your back to support you.

He was in complete awe of you, hands moving on pure instinct inside you because he could not mentally think of anything else besides you.

“Mm,” you let out as he curled his fingers in you.

Eddie began to place kisses onto your plush neck, speeding up the movement of his fingers inside you.

By now, you were so turned on. Eddie was so fucking talented with his fingers. You figured it was either from other hookups or the fact that he was a guitar god.

The slickness of your pussy, and the speed of his fingers created a delicious squelching sound.

“Your pussy’s speaking to me, honey,” Eddie teased, “Oh, I love when she talks dirty to me.”

You took your bottom lip between your teeth. Eddie’s big, brown, round eyes roamed your body, taking you in.

“Oh, I know, baby, I know.” he smiled and went to twist at your nipple.

“Eddie, fuck. How are you so good at this?” you huffed between moans. Eddie used his forearm to force you back closer to his chest.

“Dunno, just talented like that I guess,” he kissed your cheek, “You sayin’ I’m good?”

You groaned and rolled your eyes, preparing to make a snarky remark.

Eddie pressed his thumb to your clit, quickly circling it.

“Aw fuck!”

The roughness of his thumb sweetly colliding with your hard clit felt utterly delicious.

“Yeah,” he taunted, “What was all that talk, huh?”

You mewled in response, unable to form words. Your cunt smell filling the air of the room.

“Smell so good, wanna eat that pussy. You’d let me? Let me lick that fat pussy? Fuck you with my tongue?” he breathed into your neck.

“Yes! Fuck! Anything!” you squeaked and ground down onto his fingers. He was nibbling at your earlobes.

“Yeah, so good. Just take what you need baby,” he growled and began to hump against the seam of his tight jeans, needing some type of friction.

“Eddie, I’m gonna!”

He quickly fucked his fingers into you, trying his best to keep that and the rhythm on your clit in tact.

“Yeah, baby, let it all out okay? Want your cum,” he gritted, “Just give me that cum. Only me, yeah?”

He slammed against your g spot harshly, pressing down onto your clit.

“Yes! Fuck, only you, Eddie! My pussy is yours!” you rambled in the horny daze.

You squeezed your eyes shut tightly feeling your body heat rise, and your pussy began to clench down tightly onto the boy’s fingers.

You felt your climax unravel, completely taken by it.

“Fuck!” you screamed, squirt leaving your cunt and soaking Eddie’s fingers.

Eddie watched your pussy in awe. He’d never made a girl squirt before, and this knocked him on over the edge. He spilled into his boxers, groaning lowly into your ear, but he never slowed down or lost the rhythm of his fingers inside you.

You had a dopey smile on your face from the intensity or your orgasm, all sound, and majority of sight gone momentarily.

Eddie eased you through your orgasm, slowing the movement of his fingers gradually when he figured you were mostly done cumming before removing them completely. He slapped your cunt softly after, making you flinch and whine.

Eddie placed a kiss to your cheek.

“Never seen that before,” he smiled. You blinked longly before looking back at him confused.

He looked down at your bedsheets, you followed his eyes. Oh! It was…wet.

“Oh, I didn’t know I could do that,” you said genuinely surprised.

Eddie shrugged.

“Didn’t know I could make a girl to that,” he shrugged and popped his ring and middle finger into his mouth once again, sucking them is if they were a cock. *Was he sure that he’s never sucked dick before?*

“Eddie,” you groaned, “You’re nasty!”

“Eh, I don’t think so. You taste pretty good,” he shrugged sucking the tips of the fingers.

You shook your head and leaned in for a small, kiss before pulling away.

“So…want me to return the favor?” you smiled at the boy.

Eddie’s face reddened quickly, and he nervously scratched the back of his neck.

“I kinda came in my pants watching you,” he chuckled nervously.

“Oh!” you smiled widely at that before your own face ran hot. “Okay then.”

“Yeah.”

Silence filled the room as you continued catching your breath, Eddie mindlessly stroking your arm.

“So you were never gay?”

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Let Me Prove It

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> After months of grieving for Logan, he proves to you he's not going anywhere.

Disclaimer: Descriptions of death, blood, reader goes through grief of losing Logan. Angst, sadness, some fluff. There is a happy ending. Illusions to smut towards the end. Not Proof Read.

You could remember the day you fell in love with Logan Howlett. 

It had been a rainy afternoon. Nothing grand had happened that day. The kids had been in classes all day, most exams were happening all week but by Friday, they’d all be over for the semester. There was stew, heating up on the stove, and you had been reading your book. 

At least, you’d been trying to. 

Often, your mind would wander off on its own and only half way through your train of thought would you realise you had boarded the wrong train and it was already moving. And just like a flash of a meadow, snapping past one of the compartment windows, you discovered you had feelings for Logan. 

And watching him walk through the backdoor only a moment later, confirmed your thoughts. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

Your train came to a halt and you snapped up, focusing on reality. “What?”

Logan grumbled. “Nothing. Dinner ready?”

“Almost. Storm’s looking for you, by the way. She wants to know if you can cover her class next week. She’s got a doctor's appointment and no one’s available.”

Logan still had his back turned as he looked in the cupboard for something. “Sure. What class?”

“History. What are you looking for?”

Logan didn’t fully answer you. He just mumbled a noise before pulling a small box out from the back and closing the door. Turning around he opened it up, took a cookie out before offering it to you. 

“She got a lesson plan?”

Looking down at your book, you dog-eared the page. Sometimes, you’d use a bookmark but considering most of them would disappear without a trace and leave you fending for yourself to find your page again, hours after you’d read it, you gave up on them. 

“Yeah, she’s already left it in your room.”

“Of course she has.” Logan took another bite of his cookie and rounded the kitchen island. 

Your gaze followed him. Mostly out of curiosity. You and Logan were friends. Not best friends. But good friends. Well…

Good enough friends. 

Could you really be in love with him?

Reaching up into the top cupboard, he brought down the set of bowls and took half from the top. 

“You take the rest.”

And for the next ten minutes, you both laid out the table in time for dinner. 

Then you watched as he helped some of the younger kids with their hot meals. Despite all of his grumbling and his small protests when it came to calling him the best baby-sitter. 

Logan was good with kids. 

Yep. 

You were in love with Logan. 

And just like how you could remember the day you fell in love with Logan, you could also remember the day he died. 

It had torn you to pieces. 

It still did. 

It had been on a mission. You’d all faced worse before. And yet, somehow, nobody was prepared for what was about to happen. Everything blew up. Quite literally. You had been helping some of the kids to safety with Storm and Scott. Scott had left half way through, running to find Jean and help her. Storm had given him cover, as well as the kids. 

And once you knew the kids were in safe hands on the jet, you ran back. 

Only, when you got to the top of the hill, having skidded to a halt only to catch yourself on a rotting tree, you looked down to see for the first time, the image that would be forever imprinted in your mind. 

Logan and Jean were at the bottom. Scott had made it just in time to hold his girlfriend back when Logan took the brunt of the attack. It sent him flying and when he fell to the floor, your gut twisted. 

Usually, he’d get up. 

But something was off. 

He wasn’t getting up. Not as quickly, anyway. 

And when he did, an attack came sooner than anyone else had expected. 

Straight through his stomach and a second through his side, Logan was impaled to the tree before being torn from it, sent flying forward with the tentacle branches before being pulled off and sent flying to the ground. 

You remembered screaming his name along with the others before running forward. Storm had made it there before you, but you were the first on your knees beside him, trying to check for any healing that was starting. 

It wasn’t. 

You heard the muffled voices of the rest of the team in your ears, fighting against your own heartbeat as you looked down at Logan. He was bleeding out and fast. 

The bodies beside you disappeared and followed after the attacker and soon everything became…

Silent. 

The ringing in your ears had stopped, your ears had gotten used to your own heartbeat, and you tried your best to focus on Logan. 

His eyes were closed. Begging him through your own tears for him to open his, you took his hand. Feeling for his pulse, it was weak. And getting weaker. 

“Logan…please. Please don’t do this.”

Then your hearing focused on his heartbeat. Each beat took longer to come after the other until finally, with one weak squeeze of goodbye to your hand, Logan died. 

The hours that followed after that became a blur. 

The man you loved but had never told had died in front of you. You had heard his heartbeat stop. You had felt his last goodbye. He never got any last words. Just one last touch. 

And every night that followed after that, you re-lived it. Over and over and over again. Each night, the same. Logan. The branches. The blood. The pulse. The heartbeat. The touch. The silence. 

Sometimes you’d wake just as he touched your hand, the ghost of a feeling left on your palm as you woke. 

The others never bothered to ask. At least, not after the first time you had told them. The Professor had gathered you all in his office after everything had happened. And all you could think of was that Logan’s body was lay, lifeless, underneath the school. 

He had asked you what had happened and, with your arms folded and your eyes on the ground, you answered him. 

“He wasn’t healing. There wasn’t anything I could do. He died,” you explained before looking up at the Professor and giving him Logan’s time of death. “May I go now? I want to make sure the kids are okay.”

The Professor excused you and you left as quickly as you could, the door slamming a little louder than you had meant. 

And for the next two months, you…kept yourself busy. 

People talked about Logan, they were determined to keep his memory alive. But they didn’t have to go to bed at night, just for his memory to die again. Each morning, you seemed to wake up earlier than usual. And with the feeling of Logan’s hand against yours, you busied yourself as best as you could. 

Grading papers, alphabetising the library, cleaning every possible surface including the ceilings, constantly doing the laundry. Weeding out the garden, planting some new flower beds. Fixing the creaky wooden board in the hallway, painting the doors and wooden boards between the windows. Trimming the bushes, scrubbing the pots (even the old ones that weren’t in use anymore). 

You did anything and everything you could. Mostly to keep your mind busy but party because you hoped, if you tired yourself out enough, you might have caught a break. Made it one night through without re-living Logan’s death. 

But all of that changed one afternoon when you were called to the Professor’s study. 

Where you came face to face with…

Logan. 

Everyone was confused. 

Apart from the Professor. 

And throughout the meeting you remained quiet. Obviously, everyone was angry at the fact the Professor had kept such a big secret. 

“We didn’t know if it would work and we didn’t want anyone to have to re-live their grief.” The Professor explained. “It was a shot in the dark.”

“How is this even possible?” Storm asked as she sat down. 

“It seems Logan’s healing abilities were simply weakened. He needed help to heal. Medical help that not I, nor I’m afraid even you, Jean, could give him. There is a doctor I know, based in Alberta. She helped boost Logan’s healing factor and made sure that whatever had weakened him was no longer in his system.”

There was a little more explaining to do, but you could feel yourself drifting from the conversation. You just kept looking at Logan as he stood by the window and the Professor’s desk. 

He had his back turned when you had walked inside, the others all looking confused and annoyed, having to wait for you before they got their explanation. 

He had died. 

You had seen him die. 

You had felt him die. 

And yet, there he stood. His hands in his pockets, looking around the room, breathing and living as if nothing had even happened. 

Not long after all the explanations, everyone got to voice their opinion and you came last. Everyone looked at you, including Logan. 

And all you wanted to do was run.

To him or away from him, you couldn’t quite tell. 

So, with a breath, you forced a half smile and nodded. “It’s good to have you back. Professor, may I go? I’ve got a class that’s about to start.”

“Of…of course. I would have thought-”

Reaching for the door, you looked back. “See you round, Logan.”

Just before you closed the door, you heard Storm announce her way to Logan to give him a hug. But even the Professor couldn’t concentrate on that because he couldn’t help but notice there was something different about you. 

Of course, he’d noticed you’d been keeping yourself busy. Missing out on family dinners, eating yours when you found the time later on in the evening, cleaning up the classrooms after hours, doing a little touch ups here and there with a smaller paint can and paintbrush. 

Little did he know, you had just been filling in the spots you had missed the day before. 

But he had figured you had been like the others. Itching to hug Logan. Being glad he was alive and breathing. 

Instead…

You had barely said two words and had left as soon as you could. 

“Are you okay?” Storm asked you later that night when you were cooking dinner. 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Storm lifted herself onto a stool opposite you. “I don’t know. You just didn’t seem…excited about Logan being back.”

“Of course I’m excited he’s back.”

“Then would it kill you to show it?” Storm asked, half jokingly. “Here, let me help.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay, I’m almost done.”

Storm moved her hands away from your chopping board slowly. “Okay. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You smiled. “Ororo, I’m fine. Scouts honour. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

You shrugged, forcing your mind back to reality. “Nothing. It’s just been a long day, s’all.”

Later that evening, you found yourself alone in your classroom. The others were down the hall having dinner but you had found yourself something to do. You could have gone down but whether out of habit of the last two months or fear, you didn’t wish to join them. 

Your appetite had already been worse for wear over the last couple of weeks. If you were sat at the table, across from Logan, you wouldn’t have been able to even think about eating. 

So, taking another bite of your sandwich, you turned back to your essays. 

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Logan looked around the table. You were missing. 

“Whose turn was it to cook tonight?” Logan asked. 

“Y/n’s.” Jean told him. “She’s been making most of the meals lately. Guess she just got the cooking bug.”

“But she’s not here.”

Jean shrugged it off. “She’ll probably get some later.”

“Where is she?” He asked as he went to stand. But Jean stopped him. 

“Oh, no. Stay. Come on, Everyone needs to catch up.”

“Catch up on what?” Logan asked. “I’ve been in a hospital in Alberta for two months.”

“Please, just…stay. Besides, Y/n’ll appear when she wants. She’s probably busy.”

And after a little bit more convincing, Logan stayed. You’d left so abruptly that morning, he questioned if you even wanted to see him at all. 

It continued like that for a week. 

At first, Logan tried to convince himself you weren’t avoiding him. But as the week went on and he began to see less of you inside his routine, he knew you had to be. 

And then he began to notice things. 

Everything seemed cleaner than when he had left. And brighter. Fresher, even. The doors had been given a paint job. Despite it being dry, he could still smell the aroma of fresh paint in the air. The halls were less creaky when he walked down them. The cupboards were tidier. He could find his cookies with ease now. 

And despite the fact he didn’t read all that much, he knew the library had changed. Even the books that no-one ever touched. There wasn’t a speck of dust to be seen near them. And one of his personal favourites – a book he tended to read around winter, where the cover was falling off and the pages were falling apart – had been binded to look like new.

So, taking action into his own hands, he went to look for you. 

And it wasn’t long before he found you. 

You had escaped him when he saw you planting fresh flowers in the garden, and you had escaped him when you had brought in the groceries having used Storm as a distraction for you to slip out of the kitchen once everything was away. 

But he had found you in the library. 

Once again, you hadn’t come to dinner, making up an excuse that you needed to work. And Logan knew for a fact you hadn’t left to come and get your dinner yet so, he brought it to you. 

“Thought you might be hungry.”

You looked up but Logan had already heard the change in your pulse. 

“Oh…thanks. You can just leave it there.”

And he did. 

“You’ve got to eat at some point.”

“I will,” you looked back up at him. “Soon. I promise.”

This was the longest conversation you’d both had since he got back. So, he took a seat across from you. 

“What are you working on?”

“Work.”

Logan smiled. “Funny.”

Then the silence washed over you both. But he didn’t want it to stick. “Y/n?”

You hummed a response. 

“Can you look at me?”

Your heartbeat seemed to jump and you took in a discrete breath. Finally seeing your face, Logan smiled. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve not been avoiding you.” You looked back at your work. 

“Yes, you have.”

“What makes you say that?”

Logan gave you a list. “The constant work, the avoidance of dinners, the silent treatment. Did I do something?”

You shook your head. “You haven’t done anything, Logan.”

“Then can you look at me when you tell me that so I might believe you.”

Finally, you looked at him. 

“Tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on.”

Logan asked again. “What’s going on?”

You laughed, nervously. “Nothing’s going on. Logan, I’m fine.”

“Are you? Because you’ve been avoiding me since I got back and- what? What is it?”

You laughed again, except this time you didn’t know how you’d describe it. 

“‘Got back’ you repeated his words. “You say that as if you left for a vacation. You died, Logan. Or did you forget that?”

“No. Y/n. What’s going on?”

You shook your head and packed away your things as quickly as you could. “Forget I said anything. Thanks for dinner.”

“You didn’t even eat-” Logan watched you walk away from him again. 

He’d rather have you fight him than avoid him, so he pressed on. 

“Talk to me.” Logan followed after you. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. It’s late, Logan. Go to bed.”

“Only when you do.”

“What?” You asked. 

“Your bedroom, it’s upstairs, down the hall from mine. In the opposite direction. The only thing this way is your classroom.”

“I’ve got to finish grading.”

“It’s almost midnight.”

You shrugged. “What teacher doesn’t get enough sleep?”

“Something is going on. Something has been going on. For a while. Please,” Logan begged. “Just tell me what it is.”

You stopped in your tracks. “Do you really want to know what it is?”

“Yes.” Logan nodded, stopping in front of you. 

“Okay then, I’ll tell you.”

And you did. 

“I watched you die, Logan. I heard your heart stop. I watched as blood pooled out of your body with no way for me to stop it. Even after three scalding hot showers, I still had your bloodstains on my skin, under my nails and on my clothes. Every night when I close my eyes, I re-live it. Everything. Every tiny detail. And the silence afterwards…it’s deafening. Sometimes I wake up, still feeling the pressure you put into my hand. Sometimes it’s still there hours after I wake up. I had spent every single day keeping myself busy, finding extra work for myself, just to make sure that I don’t start daydreaming about the waking nightmare I had to watch you go through. I had spent the last two months going over and over in my head what I would say to you if I ever saw you again. But I could never bring myself to do it, because I had watched you die. I had felt you die. So, please. Forgive me if I’m not jumping with joy because I can miraculously forget what happened, like everyone else.”

Logan let your words wash over him. No one had told him. He had a sneaking suspicion they hadn’t because even they didn’t know. Maybe they never asked. Maybe they just hadn’t noticed. 

Gaining back your breath, you went to turn away. 

“Goodnight, Logan.”

Closing your classroom door behind you, you silently locked it and pressed your back against it feeling your entire body start to shake. Slowly, your legs went from underneath you and you lowered yourself to the ground by sliding down the door. You tried your best to squeeze your tears back into your eyes with the heels of your hands, but nothing could stop them. 

Not now. 

Not when you had just admitted the truth to the one man you never thought you would see again. 

Three times Logan turned back to your classroom door, ready to walk inside. But he didn’t know what he would say. 

So he waited. 

Back in his room, he waited to hear the door to your room close. 

And after two hours, he finally did. 

And before he knew it, his feet were carrying him towards your door. Only, he stood there for ten minutes, unsure of what to do with himself. 

At some point, he finally knocked. 

Turning off the tap by the sink, you hung up your flannel onto the radiator bar and dried off your face when you heard the soft knock at your door. 

There was only one person who could have been up so late. 

He knocked again after a minute or two. 

And you opened up the door. 

Whatever Logan had just semi-prepared in his mind, slipped away. He was going to say something. But looking at you, standing in front of him…all words failed him. 

And the longer he stood in front of you, the louder the reminder came to you that he wasn’t dead. He was alive. He could be shot with twelve live rounds and the bullets would pop right back out of his skin. His claws would flare out and he’d be Wolverine. They’d retract and his skin would heal instantly. There would be no evidence that anything had ever happened. 

Then six words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them. Before even your brain could register the thought. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

Logan felt his chest crack and his heart impale with pain. 

Pushing the door open a little wider, his arms engulfed you in an embrace that would forever be imprinted on your soul. Your own arms wrapped around him, trying to remember the feel of him both physically and spiritually in case the day ever came where you truly would never see him again. 

That if this was going to be your only memory of him, you could never, ever forget it. 

Lifting you up in his embrace for a moment, Logan walked further inside your room, kicking the door shut with his foot. Even if no one else was awake, he didn’t want to risk anyone walking by. Clearly, no-one else knew what you had been living through in your nightmares. And he didn’t want anyone else to share this moment between himself and you.

“You spared me the pain of being alone.” Logan whispered into your hair. “I was less scared because you were there.”

“I couldn’t have left you.” 

Your tears were back to rolling down your cheeks. “I’m sorry about everything you had to go through.”

Logan softly kissed away your tears, wiping the others away. 

You took in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

Logan shook his head. “You saved me. You stayed with me.”

“But-”

With both your eyes closed, and Logan’s, you felt his forehead touch yours as his hands cradled your cheeks. “I’m real, Y/n. I’m alive.”

You felt Logan take your hand and press it to his chest, over his heart. His heartbeat was mostly steady, if a little quick. Spreading your fingers across his chest, you felt it rise and fall with his breathing. 

“I’m alive,” he kept repeating. “I’m alive.”

Logan’s breath was drawing closer to yours. “Logan…”

“Let me prove it to you.”

And you let him.

Capturing your breath in a kiss, Logan remained soft at first. He didn’t want to scare you. He didn’t want you to jump and run away from him like you had done only a few hours before in the library. 

But then you kissed back. 

So he moved his hands through your hair and over your body until you were pressed against him as close as you possibly could be. 

Your own hands pulled him in closer by his neck whilst the hand he’d placed over his heart remained fixed in its position. 

Logan was proving to every sense in your body he was real. That he was alive. Almost counteracting the memory that had been drawn from a waking nightmare. 

And as he lifted you up, your back soon pressing against the wall, you and Logan knew he would be spending the rest of the night doing exactly what he told you he wanted to do. 

Prove it to you. 

As morning rolled around, you felt a warm body next to you, tangled not only in you but also your sheets. 

Logan. 

His arms practically caged around you, you recalled every single detail from the night before. Your argument in the hallways, the classroom, the knock at the door, the hug, the kiss, the proof. 

And then, you felt yourself, for the first time in months, give a real smile. 

Lowering your head, you buried yourself in between Logan’s chest and your bedsheets, feeling his arms tense at your movement, holding you in the bed without a way of escape. 

And as your body reacted to his touch you realised something. 

For the first time since his death, you hadn’t had a nightmare. You hadn’t seen his death play on repeat inside your head. And the touch you were feeling wasn’t in your hand but rather all across your body. 

Parts were aching with a soreness you never quite knew was possible and later when you would look in the mirror, you would find fingertip bruises by your hips, love bites leading down your hip bone and on your inner thigh. Smaller ones were also dotted around your collar and neck, but a rather prominent one was yet to be left by the crook of your neck from behind where Logan’s lips would find themselves before you got into a fresh shower, Logan joining almost immediately. 

But until then, you’d revel in the feeling of Logan’s constant heartbeat against your hand, and for a moment your lips as you kissed his skin. Before he woke up and proved to you time and time again how real he was and how much the memory that had plagued you for two months was something that, although wasn’t easy to forget about, could become something of a distant memory. 

And for the rest of your lives, he would make sure to do exactly that.

[satorusugurugurl]

JJK Men: Seeing You Without Makeup For the First Time

Warning: Fluffy sweetness, insecurities, suggestiveness, language

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Choso Kamo, Modern!Ryomen Sukuna, Nanami Kento

Word Count: 2,993

A/N: Ah yes, I love this trope. It was fun to write!! Please Enjoy, don't blame me from any cavities from this sweet fluff. Request Open.

Gojo Satoru:

The smell of freshly brewed coffee was the only thing keeping your eyes open. You grumbled and cursed the sun for rising another day as you leaned over the kitchen counter, watching the magic bean juice filling your cup. The higher-ups must not like you because the mission they just sent you on was hell.

A week, a damn week, you were gone. A week from your bed, students, and your boyfriend. Stupid old men and their dumb missions. But who were you to complain if you paid your bills and you were able to teach the next generation of sorcerers? So life wasn't that bad.

Then again, your somewhat happy outlook on life might be the sleep deprivation talking.

The bastards were sweet enough to give you one day to recuperate. There was no time to relax, though. You had laundry to sort through, groceries to pick up, and the normal mundane things you'd missed out on during the WEEK you were gone!

A day off was a day off despite it being a busy one. You would get it all done after you drank this coffee Satoru got you from Mexico on his last mission. As soon as you downed it, you would off. You were already dressed to go. You had on sweats and a t-shirt, and you opted out of putting on any makeup, seeing that you would just be running around.

Your phone chimed as Satoru’s name popped up on your screen. You smiled as you opened the chat.

Satoru: Good morning, beautiful! 😙 Welcome back! I had breakfast delivered to you; enjoy! 🍳🥓🧇

“Oh, he's getting laid later.” You squealed, running for the door to your apartment.

You flung it open, staring at the ground, expecting a bag, but instead, you were greeted by shoes. Designer shoes that you knew all too well. Slowly trailing up dark uniform pants and jacket that was from the same school you worked at. Further up, you caught sight of a wide grin, a blindfold, and fluffy white hair. All of which belongs to your boyfriend, who was holding a takeout bag.

“Special delivery for Y/L/N Y/N!”

Your boyfriend was here. The same boyfriend who was utterly gorgeous no matter what condition he was in. The man could be caked in blood, and you still wanted to kiss him. Then there was you; you always put in the effort to look nice around him, hair styled, cute outfit, some form of makeup always on.

Today was not one of those days.

In a panic, you squeaked, slamming the door in his face. “What the fuck?! What the actual fuck!?” You glanced around for anything you could use to hide your appearance. You panicked and grabbed the first thing off the couch.

“Uhm, babe?” Satoru questioned, opening the door. “I know you were gone for a week. But I'm Gojo Satoru, your boyfriend.”

“I know!! Sorry, I wasn't expecting to see you!” you had your back turned to him, covering your face with your hands. “T-Thanks for the food! But I have so much to do!”

“Really?”

“Yep! Laundry!”

“I had Ijichi pick it up this morning.”

Fuuuuck.

“O-Okay! I have to get groceries!”

“Your fridge is fully stocked, courtesy of yours truly.”

The room felt like it was shrinking in on you as you listened to him come up behind you. The bag was discarded as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You weren't sure how he would react, seeing your bare face, and that was terrifying.

So many men thought women wearing makeup was like lying. You had always done very light and minimal makeup, but it didn't make it less scary. Sensing the tension, Satoru gently turned you around so you were facing him. He stiffened, his mouth turning from a grin to a shocked expression.

“Y/N?” His voice was so quiet.

“Y-Yeah?”

A choked laugh erupted from his throat. “I-Is that one of my blindfolded?!” He called as you stated at the darkness his blindfold provided. “Oh my god, hold on! Hold on!” You could feel him near you with the camera on his phone clicking. “Oh my god, wait until the second years see this!” Fingers hooked under the blindfold, yanking it up and off your head.

Your hands flew up, hiding your face. Your attempt was foiled as Satoru's gentle hands pulled them away. With a shuddering sigh, you looked up at him, biting your cheek as he fully saw you. For you, no makeup, fancy clothes, or styled hair.

Satoru just smiled, leaning down before he kissed your lips gently. “Welcome home.” He pulled back, tilting his head to the side. “What was with the off-brand cosplay?” Your cheeks are flushed, the darker pigment visible without any trace of makeup.

“I-I don't have any makeup on.”

“Oh!” He straightened, his large hand patting your head. “You're so cute.”

His grin grew wider at the confused expression inching its way over your face. “Seriously? Do you think that? Even without the makeup and the baggy clothes? You still think I'm cute?” Satoru’s head bobbed up and down so fast you thought his head would fall out. His sincere reaction made you giggle, shaking your head. “Satoru, you are so strange. But also extremely sweet.” When you looked up, you blinked, seeing Gojo holding up one side of his blindfold. His bright blue eye looked you over, inching over every curve and surface of you. “Satoru, stop staring.”

“I just was confirming something.” he snapped his blindfold back into place before draping an arm over you.

You poured yourself a cup of coffee while Satoru pulled your breakfast out of the bag. “Confirming what?”

“Just confirming with Six-Eyes that I have the prettiest girlfriend in the entire world.”

Gojo’s smile slowly faded as you slammed the coffee pot down. Oh fuck, what did he say?! You led around; fire swarmed in Y/E/C eyes as you stormed over to him, grabbing his wrist.

“W-What?! What did I say?” He huffed out a gasp as you shoved him onto the couch.

“Everything.”

You unzipped his pants, and Gojo’s eyes were wide behind his blindfold. Even with Six-Eyes, Gojo did not see this coming. Spoiler alert: It was him, he was going to cum.

Choso Kamo:

A knock at your door had you straightening from your spot on the couch. Looking at your phone, you quickly got up. It was well past midnight, and it was never a good sign when someone knocked that late at night on the door.

Much to your relief, when you opened the door to your apartment, your boyfriend looked down at you. “Choso?” a sigh of relief escaped your lips.

“I'm sorry. Did I wake you?” he asked before entering your apartment.

“No, I think you just saved me a stiff neck.” You yawned out before locking the door. “Did you and Yuuji finish up with that mission?”

“Yes, he went back home; I wanted to see you.”

Choso watched as you moved around the apartment. You straightened up the pillows on the couch and wiped down your kitchen before grabbing his hand and leading him to the bedroom. The entire time you went about your mundane tasks, Choso just stared. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was different about you.

Choso’s eyes moved over you. Trying to depict what was different tonight. Haircut? No. New pajamas? No, that wasn't it, either. Everything Choso tried to think of wasn't the right answer. Not knowing what it was frustrated him to the point that Choso’s eyebrow twitched.

What had you glowing in the lowlights of your bedroom as you pulled the sheets back? “Cho?” You finally asked with a nervous chuckle. “Are you okay? You're staring holes through me.” Realizing that he had been caught, Choso flinched.

“I'm sorry, sorry I just—” Words trailed off as his cheeks flushed.

You had noticed Choso staring at you since he came inside. The poor guy never saw you without makeup, which was probably strange. He seemed to be struggling, trying to find the words to the mountain of questions he might have.

“It's okay. I think I know what you're going to ask.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, you’re going to ask what’s different.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I look different because I’m not wearing makeup.”

Choso tilted his head to the side.”Oh, no, I was going to say you look radiant tonight.” The words that left his mouth had both of you standing in silence.

You just eyed Choso as he smiled, nodding his head like he'd figured out the mystery of what was different. Pleased with his conclusion, he helped you pull the sheets back. His hands smoothed out the covers before he peered up at you. You were blushing, smiling ear to ear as you finished pulling the bed back.

“I just finished doing my skincare routine,” you announced as you crawled into bed after Choso showered. “I have a new serum that is supposed to make you look luminescent.”

Choso studied you carefully as he crawled into bed with you. “Mmm, maybe that’s it.” He pulled you into his arms. “Or maybe it’s just me.” Choso hummed, staring into the face that he loved so much. “Falling in love.” Love?! “Yeah, I think that’s exactly what this is.”

That was the reasoning behind your radiant glow. A glow that always surrounded you no matter what you wore or looked like. Choso saw utter perfection in you. So it only made sense that the reason you looked extra stunning was that he had fallen in love with you even more.

You just snuggled closer into his chest, grinning wide as he yawned. “I love you too, Cho.”

Ryomen Sukuna:

Ten minutes. All it took was ten minutes before chaos erupted in Sukuna’s apartment. He had just finished changing when he heard the commotion. Yuuji and Choso were bickering before you gently tried to break up the argument. The next thing he heard was a scream, your scream, to be exact.

He bolted, running into the kitchen, where he found you wiping at your face. “What the fuck?!” His younger brothers both stood in shock, watching you in fear. Yuuji was holding a box of baking soda, and Choso held a bottle of vinegar.

In the center of the kitchen was the volcano experiment you had been helping Yuuji make. Sukuna was able to put it all together in an instant. He didn't bother yelling. He instead lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom.

“What the hell happened?” You flinched when you felt a warm, wet rag gently cleaning your face off.

“The boys wanted to see how big of an explosion they could make. But you know the boys, they both were arguing about who should do what. Words were said, contents were thrown into a beaker, and I didn't have my safety goggles on.”

Sukuna sighed, continuing to rub off the mess on your face. “You're not hurt, are you?”

“Nope!” Your confident response had your boyfriend chuckling as he wiped more of the foamy goop off your face.

After about five minutes of wiping and rinsing the rag, Sukuna sat on the tub's edge, examining your face. It was without the small amount of makeup you had on and the lighting of the bathroom that he stared at you. You were stunning, gorgeous in everything. But here in the bathroom, his eyes mapped out your face.

“What happened here?” he asked, fingertips pressing against a small scar under your eye.

Thinking it was food coloring, you turned to the mirror, seeing your bare face. “EH?!” You touched it, groaning as you looked back at your boyfriend, who was smirking. “You wiped off all my makeup!” For a second, Sukuna thought he was dealing with a third child in his apartment.

“Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want to have vinegar on your face?” You shook your head. “That's what I thought. So confess what happened there?”

“Acne scar.”

A soft him rumbled in his chest before he learned over, thumb grazing over a tiny scar at the bottom of your lip. “This?” gentle fingers moved up, brushing over your bottom lip as he stepped closer towards you.

“I-I fell off my bike.”

You swallowed hard, whimpering as Sukuna’s fingers grazed over your face. You were feeling how soft your delicate skin was. All of you mesmerized him. Every time you came over, he learned a little more about you. And god, he fuckin’ loved that.

His hands gently mapped your face out. The softness had you breathing heavily, his eyes glued to your lips. Having your boyfriend gaze over you with such a soft yet burning gaze had you shifting. The air in the bathroom became thick with need as he slowly slipped your tank top sleeve down.

“Y/N, let me see all of you. I want to map out your body and learn everything it has to say.”

“W-What’s gotten into you?”

The whisper tone of your voice had Sukuna sliding the other sleeve of your tank top down. “You. You’ve crept your way into my heart.” The confession that spilled from his lips has you leaning in, wanting him to touch you everywhere. The same way he had touched your face.

“Hey, is she okay?” Choso’s timid voice whispered through the door. “Yuuji’s worried.”

“Take Yuuji out for ice cream.” Your tank top is slowly pulled over your head. “My card is on my dresser.”

Silence spreads out as you tug Sukuna’s shirt up and off. “R-Really?” hands began working on jeans.

“Yes, I have my own project to work on.” Sukuna turned the shower on, and he never heard Choso collecting Yuuji so fast. Refusing to answer any questions as the door to the apartment slammed shut.

Sukuna’s antics had you giggling, licking your lip, and he stripped you completely. “A project, huh?” he nodded, following you into the shower.

“Yeah, but it won't be vinegar foam that covers that pretty face this time.”

Nanami Kento:

The hotel sheets were cold and crisp over your and your boyfriend's bodies. Between the chill and the heat Nanami was putting out, you felt so comfortable. It was the perfect combination that made you want to relish the feeling forever.

The sun was up, which meant you both would be going home soon. You both had been called out on a mission, one that took a bit longer to handle than you both were anticipating. You missed the last train back to Tokyo. Leaving you both stranded in Kawasaki for the night.

Instead of having one of the assistant supervisors drive all the way out to get you, you and Nanami decided to stay at a hotel. God, it was nice: room service, wine, a hot shower. Missing that last train was a reward for the two of you. Nothing more than relaxation and joy. But the moment Nanami pulled you tighter against him, you realized you didn't have your overnight bag.

Meaning you didn't have your makeup.

“Oh no, oh god no.” You whined as Nanami lifted his head.

“What’s wrong?” His groggy voice asked, trying to assess what was going on.

Burying your face in your pillow, you grumbled, cringing as you felt Nanami shift beside you. “I don't have my bag.” The covers move as Nanami props himself up.

“Your overnight bag?”

“Mhmm.”

Silence stretched out. “Did you need something out of it? Aspirin or tampons? I'll go grab you some.” The sincerity of his words made your heart soar. God, Nanami was the best boyfriend.

“No, no, I'm okay.” You shyly turned, swallowing hard. “I just realized you've never seen me without makeup.”

Nanami’s gaze was soft; honey-brown eyes slowly roamed over your face. He took his time, his hand reaching out, knuckles grazing your cheek. It was so gentle and sweet that you pressed yourself against his hand. The warmth spreads to every part of your body.

The bed shifts as Nanami’s hand cups your cheek, pulling you closer. “You are still as stunning in the morning bare-faced as you are all dolled up.” Before you could even think of what to say in response, his lips were on yours.

His lips were warm, like a spring day. You moaned happily, kissing him back as his hands slowly ran down your arms. Breaking the kiss, had you pouting with a displeased groan that shifted into a moan. Those warm lips slowly moved down your face. Nanami was trailing the softest, warmest kisses down your body, over your shoulders and upper arm.

“I want to see all of you.” Hot breath whispered over your skin. “See every part of you, body, mind, and soul in the raw.”

Soft kisses were replaced with gentle nips. The sensation had you arching your back as Nana crawled on top of you. His morning wood was pressing against your hip. It felt like you were melting into the mattress as the once-comfortable room suddenly became too warm. The need to get naked grew stronger and stronger.

“Kento~”

He didn't respond. He was too busy being love-drunk off of you. His fingers, lips, and teeth slowly mapped out every part of your body. Nanami’s actions left you a squirming mess underneath him. One that he was so pleased to see and feel.

Only once you were gasping for air, gripping his shirt, begging him for more, did Nanami finally pull back, taking his shirt off. “Every inch of you is the most beautiful thing that's graced this world, Y/N.” You sat up, pulling him into a starved kiss as he took your shorts off. Limbs entangling as he gently laid you down.

And yes, you missed the morning train. . .and the afternoon train. . .poor Ijichi had to pick you up.