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it-was-summer · 2 months ago

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... And Fall In Love Whenever You Can.

A/N: This fic genuinely had me tearing up as I wrote it. Therefore, it shall hold a sweet place in my heart. As a kid, I used to say, "If something makes you feel, then it is good." I still believe that today. If it makes you happy, sad, flustered, ANYTHING! To feel something while reading is such a beautiful reaction to media. I often cry at movies, I cry when I read romance novels, I cry when I read poetry, and I laugh when I do, too. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you feel something, Em <3 (I also apologize for vanishing; I got sick, and it made me feel brain fog)

Link to the Ao3: ... And Fall In Love Whenever You Can Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Grief support group, mention of death(s), loss of romantic partners, struggling with mental health, tears, the rise and fall that is nonlinear healing, fear of forgetting a loved one, falling in love after tragedy, Spencer sounds like he had therapy, Maeve mentioned, guns mentioned, she/her pronouns for reader used at like one point, Reader's POV for the most part, Reader is in extreme denial and feels guilty, a secret other thing??, lightly proofread tehe!

Genre: Light Angst, Some? Hurt/Comfort, Fluff! Pairing: Season10! Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Plot: Meeting Spencer at a grief support meeting might be the best and the worst thing to ever happen to you- but it's all relative in the eyes of love.

Word Count: 9,791

You were pacing a dimly lit parking lot outside of the funeral home. It had been eleven months, two weeks, and three days since Alexander’s death. The grief meetings occurred every third Wednesday, and everyone was lovely enough. You just couldn’t find it in yourself to go inside this particular Wednesday. Because it was on this date, two years ago, Alexander had gotten on one knee at the aquarium and asked you to marry him. It was two years ago that you had said yes, not knowing that a little over a year from then, he’d be dead.

Your feet kept making strides to the double door entryway, only to slow to a stop when your hands reached the door’s push handle. Then, you’d shake your head and turn around to circle the parking lot once more. With your luck, the meeting would be over before you even got the courage to go inside.

A groan escapes your throat as you firmly put your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the Summer sky. “I’m sorry,” Your voice is raw, barely a whisper as you struggle to keep yourself from crying. You knew everyone said not to keep it in, to express your grief freely. It minimized stress. At least, that’s what the grief counselors say.

The worst part was no longer knowing who you were apologizing to— yourself or Alexander.

You were walking around one of the parking lot’s street lamps when you saw someone standing at the doors, frozen in place. It was like watching a mirror of yourself—rigid shoulders, twitching hands, shaking head.

You approach the man slowly, your image warped in the reflection of the glass doors. He turns to face you before you can speak, and he looks like you did eleven months ago. His eyes have dark circles around them, tinted with a red water-line and dull cheeks. That doesn’t stop you from gracing him with a gentle smile, “Are you going inside?”

His eyes meet yours for a second, looking away to glance back at the doors. “I’m not sure.” His voice is quiet, scared. He sounds like he is still on the fence. You nod, drawing your lips into a tiny line as you drop your hands to your sides. “Are you?” He asks, stepping out of the way for you.

You feel your mouth open to say you are going inside, but the words never come. Instead, you shake your head side-to-side timidly. “I’m not sure either,” You laugh out feebly. He nods, a dull smile gracing his delicate features for a millisecond before looking off with a forlorn expression.

“I was thinking about walking around the parking lot again… to try to gain the confidence to go inside. You’re,” you pause, wondering if it's a good idea to offer the man an invitation, “You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

The man looks at you again, his eyes widening for a second. You’re sure he’s about to decline, return to his car, and drive away, but he nods. You feel yourself smiling. It’s a little subdued, but it’s real. You mouth a silent ‘okay’ as you move your hands to your pant pockets, stepping away from the doors with this mourning stranger. You figured you didn’t have to talk if he didn’t want to, so everything was quiet as the two of you slowly walked around the large parking lot.

Eventually, your quiet stranger speaks, “Thank you,”

You shrug a little, sniffling, “It’s daunting, especially the first meeting.”

He frowns a little, watching your eyes flit over to him and then back to the night sky. “That obvious?”

“Only a little, but that’s not a bad thing.” Your voice is gentle as your feet slow to a stop, a light smile appearing on your face as you stare into the night. Spencer tilts his head to look at the stars, silently hoping that what makes you smile will make him smile, too. “Do you see her yet?” You ask, voice like honey.

He feels like crying as he says, “No,” He doesn’t even know who you’re looking at.

Your right hand is coming out of your coat pocket as you point to Cassiopeia slowly, tracing the stars with your index finger. “Cassiopeia, she’s a little low right now, but in a few months, she’ll get higher. You see her?”

And Spencer does. He feels his body relax, just for a moment. “I do.” He feels himself smiling a little at the sky, and the feeling feels almost foreign. His gaze falls back to you as you stuff your right-hand pack into your pocket, “I’m– I didn’t introduce myself earlier. I’m Spencer.”

“That’s alright; I didn’t introduce myself either,” you sigh before you tell him your name. He nods at your response and follows you once your feet start moving again.

“Have you—” He motions to the funeral home in the distance, “ever been inside?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m a funeral home grief support group regular.” You joke lightly, though the soft chuckle you let out sounds like a sad one.

He nods, nervously adjusting the beige cardigan on his chest. “Is everyone—I mean—” He draws his lips closed as he tries to gather his thoughts. “Do you like it?”

Your feet slow for a second as you think about it. Sure, everyone was friendly, and the support was more helpful than harmful. But did you like it? You give him a little nod when you answer, “Yeah, it’s been nice. Less,” You tilt your head slowly like you’re choosing your words carefully. “Less Lonely.”

Spencer lets out a relieved-sounding sigh as he mutters a gentle “Right.”

“I just,” You swallow carefully, “I’m having a hard time going in today. My fiancé proposed two years ago today. I just— I mean everyone inside knows, I just,” You trail off for a second, sniffling lightly as a cool breeze brushes against your watering eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”

Spencer didn’t know what to say to that. With Maeve, he had barely met her in person before she was murdered in front of him— the future pulled out from under him. Nowadays, he spends his time rereading books, remembering conversations on the phone, and mourning her silently in his apartment. Sometimes, he didn’t know which would be worse: losing her when he did or ten years down the line. Nonetheless, there is no Maeve to help him answer that question.

He struggles to find the words for a second before he nods, slow and unsure of himself, “It matters.”

You grin at how scared he sounds, the sound of a man holding on to the memory of a face that keeps fading away in his mind. “I know,” you can feel the ghost of the engagement ring on your left hand, a ring that now lies in a coffin.

As the two of you get close to the building once more, you ask, “Are you going to go in?”

Spencer swallows hard, the knot in his throat making it difficult for him to breathe. “Maybe next meeting,”

You nod, “Me too.” You stare at your car in the distance before you feel yourself standing in the parking lot with Spencer— unmoving. “I know it’s not a lot, and I know that I can’t help that much, but,” You pull your phone out of your pocket, opening the keypad cautiously before holding it out to him. “If you ever want to talk about it, or anything really, I’d be happy to talk with you.”

Normally, Spencer would decline such a kind gesture. He would thank you, drive home, and find solace in something familiar. His fingers twitch lightly as he reaches out for your phone, staring down at the keypad for a second before he puts in his number. He doesn’t know why he wants to talk with you. He thinks it’s because talking with a stranger about Maeve seemed less daunting than talking about it with his coworkers— his friends. You barely know him, and that makes your offer seem safe. No preconceived notions, pity, or gentle promises of being there for him, just a stranger talking to another stranger.

Two weeks go by like usual— no text from your stranger named Spencer, coffee for one at the café that was Alexander’s favorite, taking his mom to dinner on Thursdays, and so on. Sometimes, the days blur into a muddled painting filled with muted tones, and you try your hardest to remember when everything had a vibrant hue.

Most days are easy, easier than most, at least. It’s not that you forget about him. You remember him when you see a couple holding hands or golden retrievers going for walks, you think about him with everything you see, and it feels good to remember him. You’re happy to have known him so well, loved him so deeply. But all the love inside you has nowhere to go, so you go to his grave on Saturdays, hoping you can pour all the love in your heart onto a tombstone with his name on it. It never works, of course, but it helps.

You're running late this particular Saturday morning. You have two coffees in hand—one of which always goes untouched—and you’re stuck on the metro. That’s when you see him again, your stranger sitting in the fluorescents of the railcar.

Pushing through a small crowd, you approach him, slowly taking the empty seat next to him. Spencer doesn’t look up at first, his eyes glued to the book in his hands. That is until you’re leaning over to him to say a small “Hello,”

He jumps at the sound, head snapping to look at you with wide eyes. He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised you remember him, but he is. “Hello,”

Your eyes meet his, “Do you remember me? I-I’m sorry I shouldn’t have invaded–”

“No! I mean, yes, I remember you. You’re not invading my space. You’re fine.”

You let out a relieved sigh, looking away from him for a second to look down at the cups in your hands. His eyes follow your gaze, and he offers you a shy smile, “Are you meeting someone?” Small talk was never his strong suit.

You look at him, eyes lingering on his polite smile. “Oh,” you laugh like it's funny. “No, it's just me.” Spencer gives you a confused look, and you quickly answer his silent question. “I visit Alex’s grave. He loved black coffee. It was the most unsettling thing about him.”

Spencer doesn’t know how you’re smiling so wide as you say it. How could you talk about someone you lost and smile so wide talking about them? Would he smile like that one day? Would he even have things to smile about, or would what-ifs haunt him until the day he dies?

You find that you hate the silence that follows, the lack of sound creeping over your skin, making you itch to say something more. “I’ve always liked cemeteries too, so bonus, I guess.”

That gets you a sharp laugh, “You’ve always liked cemeteries?” Spencer’s eyes seem slightly brighter now, less red than two weeks ago, and they’re laser-focused on you.

You happily nod, “Always thought they were beautiful. It’s a creation of love, a way for your love for someone to live on.”

“Not sure everyone thinks about them that way,”

“Well, I guess they wouldn’t, and that’s alright with me.” You hum softly as the intercom announces in a static-filled voice that the railcar will be moving soon. “It’s quieter that way.”

Spencer glances towards the intercom for a second before turning back to you, “I suppose you’re right— about the quiet thing, not sure I agree with always liking them.” And he’s smiling at you, a real smile.

You feel yourself smiling back, wide as ever, “What’s your opinion on cemeteries then?”

“I’d like to say I don’t have an opinion on them, but if I had to form one, I would say they’re…” He trails off for a second, thinking about it more now. He laughs for a second, “Well, I suppose I find them rather serene.”

Your eyebrows raise for a second as you study him. How he seems to be relaxing in the conversation, and you can’t help but consider extending him an invitation to your weekly visit with Alexander. The longer you stare at him, the more you think the worst he can say is no, so you ask. “Would you like to join me?”

Spencer reels back slightly at the invitation; it feels intimate, yet he doesn’t want to say no. He wants to see what you see, to understand your mind, “I–” He looks away for a second, staring at the still-opened book in his lap. “If you’ll have me.”

Once you are on the street, you hum lightly while walking beside him. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind very much, his fingers fiddling with the edges of his book that now resides closed in his hand at his side. He’s nervous for some reason. He doesn’t understand why you invited him, nor why he said yes. He thinks maybe he should announce that he has other plans, turn on his heel, and book it in the other direction.

But when the two of you tread closer to the cemetery gates, you start talking again. “I hope you don’t find it strange that I invited you. It’s been a little under a year– well, a year next week– and I know it might seem weird, but I’d like to think he’s happy about me having a new friend.”

He knows it is a coping mechanism, and he knows Alexander cannot feel anything anymore. Spencer’s a man of science, but hearing you say that makes him feel at ease. His shoulders unwind slowly, “He sounded like a nice person,”

You let out a playful hum, “Sometimes. If he didn’t like you, he made it pretty obvious.” You pause for a second, glancing over at Spencer. “He was tall, kind of like you, and nerdy. But he was so funny; no one knew how funny he could be. They never listened hard enough, you know? I hated that people would talk over him in a crowd. To me, he was the only person worth listening to.”

Spencer finds him smiling at that, following you as you take a left. He sees that you're smiling, too, and when the two of you get to his grave, you’re still smiling. You let out a happy sigh as you talk, introducing Spencer as “Your new friend.”

For a while, you tell him stories—memories from when Alexander was still alive—and he finds he doesn’t mind listening to them. He sees them as a great distraction from his lack of happy stories with Maeve. You’re laughing a little as you tell him of the time that Alexander’s mother wouldn’t stop sending him a massive, bulk-sized trail mix every time she sent him a care package in college. He had so many bags that they lived under his bed for the better part of four years.

“Did he even like trail mix?”

“Honestly? Yes, but he only liked the chocolate and peanuts. It would just be massive bags with an abundance of raisins inside.” You shake your head a little as you stand next to Spencer.

Spencer lets out a slightly amused hum. His mind keeps going over how good you are with everything. You talk about Alexander openly. You don’t hold your feelings back. You smile so wide, even when you look at his headstone. He wants to know your secret— some secret to grief that he has yet to uncover.

His mouth opens briefly, closing quickly as he shifts his weight awkwardly beside you. He sucks in a nervous breath as he tries to muster up the courage to speak. “How do–” He sighs heavily, “I mean, I’m sure you struggle–” He licks his lips nervously, your eyes meeting his slowly. “When does it stop hurting?”

You’re silent for a second, your soft smile fading as you stare at him. He’s scared that maybe that’s the wrong question to ask as he watches you turn your head to look down at Alexander’s grave. He is about to apologize when you whisper, “It feels different now.”

Spencer’s mouth snaps shut as he waits for more, his eyes scanning your side profile slowly for some sort of sign that you’re uncomfortable. “Last year, it just felt like–” A pause, your free hand rising to your chest slowly. “It felt like someone had plunged a dull knife into my chest and left me for dead.”

Spencer’s chest tightened for a second, his own heart feeling painfully dull as he listened to you.

“But, I’m not the one who died. Alex did. I was so angry— disappointed that he had the nerve to leave me when we were about to start the next chapter of our lives together. I had–have– all this love inside my heart for him, and he’s gone. It took me a long time to understand that, to be okay with it.”

Your words catch in your throat, and you clear your throat quickly. The familiar burn of tears threatens to build in your eyes as you force yourself to look at Alexander’s grave. “He was so kind, and once I got past that feeling,” your voice sounded thick. “Life kept going, and so did I. He wouldn’t have wanted me to stop living my life. When you love someone, you only want them to be happy– with or without you.”

You sniffle lightly, relaxing your shoulders slightly, “It never stops hurting, I guess, but days get better. I’m happy that I got to be a part of his life. I find some comfort in that. Somewhere, in the story of him, I’m there.” Eventually, you find the courage to look over at Spencer. When your eyes meet his, you find that he’s staring at you with a compassionate expression. You can see the understanding in his eyes. You swallow hard, pushing the emotional lump down your throat.

“It does get better.” You whisper, your voice warm.

Spencer nods quickly, mouthing a little ‘I know’ before his eyes trail away from you for a second. A cool breeze passes between the two of you when he says, “Just needed the reminder,”

The next time you see him, it’s the third Wednesday of the month, and he sits right next to you. You find yourself smiling a little when he does, nudging his shoulder playfully as more people fill the space. He scoffs playfully, the silent gesture letting you know he’s happy you’re here.

The meeting passes like usual: New members share their stories, grief counselors hand out business cards with their phone numbers, recurring members offer kind sentiments, and then, just near the end, your seat partner stands up.

Your eyes widen for a second as you watch Spencer stand, his eyes laser-focused ahead as people turn to look at him. You watch how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. A shaky breath leaves him as he tries his hardest to start talking. His hands flex for a second, pressing against his pants to wipe off what you can only assume is sweat.

He stutters for a second, his confidence creeping away from him. You’re surprised when he turns his head to look at you. His breathing steadies as he watches you. “I’ve been having difficulties sleeping again. After,” His hands move a little as he speaks, his eyes periodically looking towards the rest of the group before trailing back over to you, “I just– I used to have a hard time sleeping, and lately, it’s been happening again. Every time I sleep, I see her, and I feel so–” He used to dream of her after her death, dreamt of touching her, but these were different. Dreams that constantly left him waking up feeling devastatingly alone.

He shakes his head a little, “It’s been seven months, and I keep dreaming of everything that could have been.”

The confession is met with comfortable silence and sympathetic looks, but not from you. You’re nodding, an encouraging smile spreading across your face. For some reason, he likes that better. “I don’t like leaving her when I wake up.” The admission feels like a weight lifting off his chest when he says it.

There’s a pause of silence before he sits down, unsure of what else to say besides his admission. As one of the counselors begins to talk to Spencer, he finds himself listening intensely. Seven months, and he’s finally willing to take some much-needed advice.

After that month’s meeting, Spencer has back-to-back cases. He’s keen on keeping in contact with you, which you’ve said he doesn’t have to do if he doesn’t want to, but he insists. He likes having someone to update, a friend waiting to see him when he’s free.

The next time he’s free, it’s a rare Saturday. He’s been awake since five and can’t seem to go back to sleep. He does keep dreaming of Maeve, but they’re a little different now. This time, he was in a cemetery with you. It was freezing, the kind of cold where you could see your breath, and you were laughing about something when the two of you bumped into her. Maeve’s not angry. She just laughs and glances at Spencer before hugging you. You hug her right back and say something– and that’s when he wakes up.

Spencer doesn’t like the feelings that stir inside him with that dream: confusion, curiosity, sadness, something else. The feeling is warm, tinged with an overcoat of sorrow, and he finds himself needing a good distraction.

However, reading isn’t helping, nor is the crossword. So eventually, he finds himself getting ready to go out for the day in the search of a good distraction that will get his mind off his dream.

He doesn’t know why he thinks about the cemetery where Alex’s grave is on his way to get coffee that day, but he does. A part of him feels that a nice walk will do him good, so, coffee in hand, he finds himself walking… then taking the subway… then ending up in front of Alex’s grave… alone.

Spencer’s lips slightly pout when he sees no coffee cup on the headstone. He knows that you have yet to visit your late fiancé today. He doesn’t exactly know why he’s visiting your late fiancé today; without you, it feels… strange.

The longer Spencer stares at the letters etched in stone, the more he feels a realization dawn on him. He feels guilty… guilty for dreaming of you, guilty for craving your warmth right now, and guilty for a million different little reasons.

Spencer feels his lips part for a second, a sigh escaping his lungs, before he whispers, “I’m a mess. " He knows he’s talking to thin air, but he feels lighter, admitting it to himself.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling. All I know is that I shouldn’t be, and it won’t do anyone any good, and secretly I think–” He sucks in a cold breath of air, “Secretly, I think I don’t deserve it.” The grave is silent, of course, but Spencer smiles anyway.

For a while, he thought his future had passed him by. A brief image graced his vision before leaving him blind. He can see now. He sees that he still has things to do, goals to accomplish, people to meet. Then he’s walking away.

Two meetings and four coffee ‘dates’ later, you’re rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you watch Spencer laugh over something with one of the grief counselors. It’s a strange feeling to see him laugh so openly. It's heartwarming if you’re being honest. It’s hard to explain it, and the feeling is too intense– too raw. It’s a feeling you dimly remember, and suddenly, you’re nauseous.

You have a crush, which is incredibly laughable because you’re an adult. The last time you had a crush on someone was three years ago, Alexander. This almost feels cruel. The longer you stare at him, the more real it becomes.

Spencer catches your eye for a second and excuses himself from the conversation in his polite Spencer way. When he reaches you, he smiles warmly: “Somebody’s all smiles.” You hum with a playful roll of your eyes.

Spencer pouts for a second, good-natured and playful, as he mutters a little, “When did smiling become a crime?”

“It isn’t. I’m just being observant, and you have a nice smile.” You try to keep your voice calm and level, but he seems to catch on anyway. Spencer’s eyes seem laser-focused on you, studying you carefully. Internally, you’re beginning to pray that his profiling skills fail to notice the classic signs: your sweaty palms, wandering gaze, and too-tense shoulders.

And if he does notice… you hope he doesn’t say anything. That’s not Spencer’s way, and you know it. “Everything okay?”

You nod quickly, “I’m good, sorry, I was just thinking about… bills.” You know he catches the lie the second you say it; you can see it in his amused smile.

“Bills?”

“Bills.”

“I’m not sure I like this story you’re going with, but if you’re sticking to it, I won’t pry.”

You nod, letting your shoulders relax as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Thank you,”

“I was thinking,” Spencer starts as he grabs his messenger bag, following you out. “We could get dinner together Friday night.”

“Why?” Your tone is a little flatter than you’d like it to be as Spencer walks you to your car. You'll admit the idea of being alone with him is nice, but the admission feels strange— still too raw, surreal.

“Because…” He trails off slowly, hoping to find a better reason than it being because he wants to have dinner with you, but the longer he sits with the ideas, the more he feels like you’ll turn down his idea. He feels self-preservation take over, and for the first time (and what he hopes is the only time), he lies to you. “My teammates are having a get-together.”

“Oh!” You say as the two of you reach your car. “And you want me to meet them or?” The idea seems less daunting. Yes, Spencer and you had been to get coffee together, but that was just coffee. Dinner seemed too intimate, but dinner with friends? Now, that was less scary.

“Yeah! Yes, I think it’d be nice!’ Spencer’s voice cracks slightly before nervously clearing his throat in a weak attempt to control the anxiety that creeps into his tone. “Would you… like to meet them?”

You’re leaning against your car door, and the air smells sharp with the promise of snow, and Spencer’s sure you’ll decline. You grin, nodding slightly, “Sure, I mean, it’s just dinner with friends. What time Friday?” Your arms fold over your chest, pulling your coat closer to your body.

“Six.” He doesn’t know how his fake dinner has a time, but he’s surprised at how easy it is to come up with one. “Nothing fancy. I’ll, um, text you the address.”

You watch him for a second, trying to read him the way he reads you. His voice seems higher in pitch, and his eyes keep glancing at yours. You chalk it up to him being nervous. The combination of two groups already frying his nerves before it even happens. “Can’t wait. See you Friday.”

Spencer stuffs his freezing hands in his pockets as he watches you enter your car and drive off. Then, the panic sets in.

He’s tailing Derek desperately, “Listen, I know it’s rushed, but–”

“I don’t see why you can’t just text her the address and ask her out. Straightforward.” Derek says as he takes the left towards Penelope’s office. “Or you could say we canceled and make it just the two of you.”

“Considering I already lied to her once, I’d rather not lie twice. And–” He fumbles with his words for a short second. “It’s not a date. I just thought she thought it was one, and I panicked.”

“What’s wrong with it being a date?” Derek asks, knocking on the door gently before entering Penelope’s office.

“Date?” Penelope echoes back as she turns in her chair.

Spencer holds out a hand defensively, “It wouldn’t— it’s complicated! Please say yes. You’re the first person I’ve asked.”

“Asked what? Am I going to be asked?” Penelope chirps as Derek hands her a coffee.

“Pretty boy here,” Derek motioned to Spencer with a light wave, “Lied to one of his ladies. Invited her to a team dinner that doesn’t exist.”

“A team dinner would be fun! With a new addition, too!” Penelope said with a sip of her coffee. “When?”

“Friday,” Spencer mumbles, avoiding her gaze.

“Friday, as in, tomorrow Friday?” She sucks in a breath of air, “Spencer…”

He frowns and mouths a little, ‘I know’. He looks at them, pleading, “Please, even if it’s just the two of you…” He trails off slowly, watching Penelope and Derek share a look.

“I’ll text the rest of the group.”

“Not the whole story,” Spencer adds as Penelope pulls out her phone. “Please.”

“I’m already doing you one favor, boy genius.”

Spencer is surprised at how many of his team members agree to dinner. JJ, Penelope, and Derek all promise to bring their respective partners. Rossi and Hotch politely decline, but given his sudden plans, he doesn’t blame them.

However, by the time five-thirty rolls around, he can see that he’s been played. The first text comes from JJ, claiming that Henry is sick and that she can’t make it. Derek follows, saying that he accidentally double-booked and cannot cancel his reservation with Savannah. He can feel himself sending a silent prayer to Penelope before she, too, is texting him to cancel.

So now, he stands outside the restaurant in a long brown trench coat and purple scarf tied tight around his neck. When you arrive, adorned with a cream sweater and rosy cheeks, you ask him the inevitable: “Where’s the team?”

Spencer's throat tightens as he answers, “They’ve canceled, so it’ll be just us if that’s alright with you?”

He can see your smile falter momentarily before you nod, “That’s fine, another time.” You shiver a little, glancing towards the restaurant. “Should we…?” Spencer, silently elated that you aren’t leaving, nods and hurriedly rushes over to open the door for you.

Once seated, you are greeted by a slightly uncomfortable awkward silence. You’re sure that it will soon resolve itself, but Spencer seems too lost in his thoughts, and it becomes clear that if you want this long silence to end, you’ll have to speak first.

“I’m sorry every–”

“Do you–”

The two of you stare at each other briefly before laughing softly. Spencer’s eyes crinkle a little when he’s laughing, a feature you seem to be adoring silently before he says, “I’m sorry that everyone canceled.”

You push out a little breath, your gaze falling to the menu on the table. “That’s okay, I’m sure everyone has busy lives.” You shrug a bit before glancing up at him, “I do have a question for you, though,” You watch as Spencer’s back straightens, and he gives you a small smile as the ‘go ahead.’

You flatten out the front of your sweater nervously, “Do you think it’s weird that I was supposed to meet your friends— the team?”

Spencer gives you a slightly confused look before you quickly add, “I don’t think it is, but I was talking to my coworker about tonight, and she said it seemed like an excuse for a date. Then I explained it, and she called it weird, and I don’t know—Do you think it’s weird?”

Spencer can feel his cheeks heating up against his will, and his head shakes from side to side, “No! No, it’s not weird.” he pauses, thinking about it for a second. “Well, maybe a little. But not for you, for me. You’ve never expressed an intense interest in meeting them, but they mentioned bringing someone, and I thought—” He motions to you with a shaky hand, “Thought you’d be a good person to bring to dinner. You’re lovely, and my friend, and I—” he feels the rest of his words die in his throat. He wants to tell you that he wants the team to meet you. He wants everyone to see how wonderful and kind you are.

He feels his mouth dry, realizing he wants you to meet the team now. He wants a third party to witness your calming effect on him, and, most importantly, he wants them to like you because he likes you.

A slow ringing grows in his ears at the full realization of his feelings for you. Your smile, usually calming, has his heart leaping in his chest. He finds himself leaning closer when you say, “I didn’t think it was weird either,”

Spencer lets out a little huff of relief, “Good, that’s good.” His heart was beating fast in his chest. He knew he had feelings for you but was unaware of how deep they ran.

“Though I will say, it is strange that they all canceled.”

He feels awful lying to you. He can count two lies now and doesn’t want to tell a third. “Yeah, I can’t explain that one. They all did it at the last minute. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind, though I was scared this was all a set-up for a date.” You laugh as if it’s the silliest idea you’ve heard.

Spencer can feel his heart in his throat, his breathing quickening slightly. “Would it be bad if it was?” he can’t stop the words from spilling out, his eyes widening at his sentence.

Your surprised face stares back at his, breathless as you look at him. You’re about to say something when the waitress comes by to take your order. You manage a slight, polite smile as you order before you’re staring off at Spencer. His nervous eyes flicker between the waitress and you as he orders quickly.

When she’s gone, you stare at each other with bated breath. You draw in a slow, calming breath when you say, “I don’t know,”

“You don’t… know?”

“I just, I haven’t thought about—” You pause, knowing it’s a lie. “I have—” You correct gently before you let out a frustrated sigh. “I thought we were friends.” Your voice cracks slightly.

Spencer draws his head back at that, “We are friends. We are. I didn't know if you ever thought about—” He doesn’t know what he’s saying. What is he aiming for here?

“Anyone dating you would be lucky, Spencer.” You say, sweet and gentle. You don’t know how to save this situation. Your love for Alexander will always be in your heart, strong and genuine, but… looking at the man across from you.

You watch his fingers nervously trace patterns on the glass of water in front of him, how he’s looking at you with such a sweet expression. You just didn’t think this would happen to you. You were sure that Alex was it. He was all you would ever know— you had resigned yourself to it.

Would you be a bad person if you fell in love again? After everything, it feels… selfish, dirty, wrong, terrifying. “I’m not sure I’m your best option.” Is what you settle on.

Your heart silently breaks as you watch Spencer’s face fall. His nervous fingers slow their movements until he whispers a sad, “Right.” There’s a pause, like he’s deciding what to do next. He then nods, like he’s coming to terms with something.

“Right, I’m not saying I’m looking–” His brown eyes scan your face, “I’m not even sure I want something like that. I don’t know why it sounded like I was. I just want you to know that I—” He swallows thickly, “I like being your friend.”

“Me too! I like being your friend, too.”

“Good!”

“Great!”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, “So we’re on the same page?”

“Same chapter and everything.”

Spencer lets out a huff of a laugh at that, nodding slowly.

The rest of the dinner seems normal; the interaction from earlier seems to be brushed under the rug, and you’re grateful it is. However, the topic kept worming its way into your train of thought. The nagging thought of ‘What if…’.

It's not a terribly horrible idea to date Spencer. If you were honest with yourself, you had thought about it before—not obsessively, just in passing. A little whisper of an idea, lovely and new. It was nice to fantasize about love, but it was just a fantasy. You had a great love, and you were grateful.

Wanting more than that was greedy.

After dinner, Spencer insisted on walking you home. He wouldn’t listen to a single one of your protests and simply convinced you with a firm, “I’ve seen what happens to people when they go off alone late at night,”

The reminder made you readily accept his company on the cold December night. Walking by his side, watching how your feet started to sync in step, your mind began to wander. What did a date even feel like? It had been so long since you’ve had a date… you weren’t even sure you would know if you were on one unless it was explicitly said.

The thought makes you chuckle, earning the interest of one Doctor Spencer Reid. “What’s on your giggling mind?”

“Nothing,” You sigh, glancing over at him. “I was just thinking about how long it's been since I’ve been on a date. I don’t even think I would know if I was on a date if I was on one. Someone would have to sit me down and explain it to me,”

Spencer’s lips quirk upwards at the idea, listening to you. The sweet look he’s giving you is not lost on you as you continue to ramble, “I mean, I’m not even sure I remember the last time I tried to look for a date.”

“Care to take a guess?”

“Uhm,” You draw out the sound as you think, your tongue wetting your lips. “Six months ago, maybe, kind of, sort of?”

Spencer’s clever mind quickly realizes that this failed dating experience happened a month before he met you, and then he notes that it also happened ten months after Alexander’s death. “And.. What do you mean by that? How does someone, kind of, sort of, maybe look for a date?”

You roll your eyes, “It wasn’t really my idea. My friends convinced me to go on some dating apps, and I tried!” You laugh lightly, “Well. I pretended to try. I just didn’t like it. It wasn’t what I expected.”

“What were you expecting?”

Your feet falter momentarily before finding their pace next to Spencer again, “Something from a Nora Ephron movie, maybe? Something like You’ve got Mail.” As you say it, you see the strange look on Spencer’s face, and it makes you grin. “It’s a romantic comedy.”

He mouths a soft ‘oh’ and feels awkward because he still doesn’t know what you mean. You’re quick to explain, “It just means I had high expectations. Alexander and I were friends for a while before we,” You trail off before you wave the sentence off with your hand. “I just didn’t like it. Felt too forced.”

Spencer understands that part, slowly taking a left with you. “Haven’t tried that yet.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it.”

He grins and nods, “What do you recommend?” His curious mind was getting the better of him. His left hand slipped out of his coat as he waited for your answer, his knuckles dangerously close to yours.

“In a world seemingly becoming increasingly dependent on technology for everything? I’d recommend shooting your shot with every pretty stranger you see.” It's a joke, but the idea of Spencer asking for the numbers of every pretty person in DC made your chest feel strangely tight— a light reminder that your crush was still going strong. And you’ve already turned him down.

“I’m not sure you’ve been paying close attention to me these past four months,” He jokes lightly.

“Oh, trust me, I have been.” The words tumble out before you can stop yourself, and you can feel your cheeks growing impossibly hot.

Spencer’s quick to tease, “You have been?”

You nod, trying to act like it's nothing but friendly, but your nervous breathing might give you away. You take a steady breath, happy to think that if he sees red on your cheeks, you can blame it on the cold weather.

Instead, he slows to a stop just steps away from your apartment complex. You stop, turning to look at him, and when you see him, all composure leaves you with one little glance. Spencer’s ears are red, his hazel eyes glued to yours, and his hands nervously fidget with his long purple scarf.

He draws in his lower lip nervously, his brow furrowing in the way that lets you know he’s meditating on something in that beautiful brain of his. His hands move as he begins to talk, “I have been too,”

With that, you feel all the air knocked out of you, and your trembling fingers hide in your pockets. You’re not sure what he wants you to say or do. It feels like a confession, making your heart pound in your chest. His sweet eyes study you, “I’m not sure what I—” He steps closer.

“Not sure what I want. All I know is that I feel something—” He makes a weird motion with his hands like he’s trying to shape his feelings with his hands. “Hopeful? I don’t know! I just,”

“I know.” You rasp out, nodding quickly. “I know.” You repeat it because you do know. You know what he’s feeling, that dangerous feeling of tentative hope, the sense that something is beginning again. The world shifting into focus and becoming colorful again.

Spencer’s gaze softens as that, and then the two of you just stare at each other for a moment. Guilt seemed to creep into your chest, invading your heart the longer you stared into those pleading brown eyes. Some part of you wanted to give it a shot, take him in your arms, and just let go. The stubborn part of you couldn’t let go of what you once knew.

What would you say to your friends— or worse, Alexander’s family? Thinking about being happy with someone else again felt like a betrayal.

Spencer could see the shift in your demeanor, the way your eyes glossed over with emotion, your back rigid, and he knew you weren’t ready. The feelings you were feeling were ones he wrestled with weeks ago after visiting Alexander’s grave. “I visited his grave without you a few times.”

Your brows knit together at that, stuttering gently as you manage a soft “Why?”

“I felt guilty about how I feel about you. I thought visiting his grave would make me back down, but it didn’t. I visited Maeve’s grave and thought about my feelings there too. She would have liked you.”

“Spencer, don’t–”

“You told me once that he would’ve wanted you to be happy with or without him. Why can’t you let yourself be happy? I know it’s uncharted territory; it is for me, too, and he knows you don’t love him any less–”

“You didn’t even know him!”

Spencer's lips draw into a tight line at that. You can’t stop yourself before saying, “You don’t understand the love I had for him. It was different from how you felt about Maeve. It was special.”

Your breathing is heavy, and you're trying to stop yourself from crying. The second you say it, you regret it. Your rigid posture slacks, and you step towards him quickly, but he steps back once you get closer.

“You don’t get to say that,” his voice is colder, his eyes cast down to his hands. Then he takes a sharp breath and looks up at you; his warm hazel gaze turns cold. “My love for her was just as special as yours was for Alexander. I can see that, even if you can’t. But at least I can see when something exceptional is right in front of me. Unlike you, I didn’t want it to slip through my fingers again.”

Your mouth feels dry as you try to respond, anger and guilt fighting an internal war inside you before Spencer turns on his heel and says, “Goodnight,”

The snow starts again as you watch him walk away, blinking flakes out of your lashes, cheeks red from the tears falling as you watch him disappear around the corner.

The conversation is still fresh in your mind at dinner with Alexander’s mom Tuesday night. She lives just outside the city in Maryland, so whenever she made her way into the city, you made it a point to meet up.

She watches the way you’re staring at your sandwich. The intense look you’re giving the meal almost makes her laugh. “Don’t be upset with the club. We can always get you another sandwich, dear.”

You raise your head slightly at that and let out a nervous laugh, “No, the sandwich is fine. I’m just thinking. I’m sorry, Shannon.”

Shannon lets out an understanding hum, waving you off with a simple flick of her wrist as you apologize. “Is it work?”

You give her an easy smile, “Ah, no. It’s… confusing and probably boring; don’t worry about it.” She gives you a little look that says, ‘Come on, really?’ and it makes your smile widen.

“When you retire, everything is confusing and boring, so lay it on me.”

“Shannon, please, I promise you don—”

“I will make you pay for this meal; do not force my hand.”

“I am paying?”

“Exactly. Now tell me what’s on your mind.”

You slump in your seat and nod in defeat. “Alright, well,” you wet your lips nervously, trying to figure out the best way to tell her. “You remember last time I mentioned that I had that friend from the group? The genius—Spencer.”

Shannon nods, motioning for you to keep going slowly, “Well, lately, he and I have become aware of some feelings for each other, and I–” You can feel your legs trembling, “He just doesn’t get it. I can’t do that to Alex or you. He just doesn’t understand—”

“Sweetheart, slow down.” She held up a hand, an amused look on her face as you rambled at the speed of light. “Start over.”

You let out a little huff, trying to calm your growing nerves. You roll your shoulders back, gaining some composure, “I have feelings for him, and I thought it was just a passing crush, but now it’s getting so messy. And he told me that he has feelings for me too, but I told him off, and we haven’t talked in four days– which would be fine if we didn’t fight, but we did— and I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“He’s really sweet and great, but I just… I keep thinking about my love for Alex and don’t want to let go of him.” Your voice gets quiet with the admission. “I’m happy loving just him, only him.” Your voice shakes lightly, forcing your gaze down, your eyes filling with tears.

You hated telling her this— hated telling her that your stupid heart found itself attached to someone other than her son. You mentally prepare yourself for something, anything, yet you still cringe when you feel her hand rest on yours.

“He’s dead–”

“I know–”

“No, listen,” Shannon says sternly, watching as you lift your gaze to meet hers. “He’s dead. Every day, I have to remind myself he’s dead. I know you do, too.” She frowns for a second before she gives you a weak smile. “But, you? You’re alive. You’ve experienced a loss no one should have to experience at your age, and yet here you are. Would he be ecstatic over you falling in love with someone else? Not quite, but I know my son. He wouldn’t want you to be alone. Or worse, unhappy.”

You blink away tears, your bottom lip trembling, “I don’t want to forget him,”

“Who said you’re going to?” Shannon jokes lightly, giving your hand a light squeeze. After a moment, she whispers, “Knowing Alex, he probably sent Spencer your way.”

You laugh at the idea, but the sound dissolves into a little sob, “He would.”

Shannon brightens momentarily, “He was always jealous of how good you were at trivia night. Maybe he wanted someone to beat you for once?”

“Spencer can!” You laugh harder than you should, but you can’t help it. You picture Alex’s face, joking about how you have too much useless knowledge in your brain.

As your laughter dies away, a wave of anxiety rolls over you. “I was awful to him last Friday.”

“Then make it up to him,”

After much deliberation, you knew you would, or at least, you would die trying. The next meeting was in two weeks, which seemed too far out. After three texts, two calls, and one voicemail, you decided to go to him.

You had been to Spencer’s apartment once before and were sure it was on this block… maybe. It was early Saturday morning, and you could only hope he would look out his window and see you pacing the sidewalk.

But an hour passed, and the cold wind forced you into a coffee shop down the block. Shivering as you waited for your coffee, you glanced at the unread texts you sent him one last time before stuffing your phone back into your pocket.

Clearly, he didn’t want to see you, much less talk to you. You chewed on your bottom lip, lost in thought until you resolved that seeing him at the next meeting would have to do if he didn’t text you back before then.

And so, two weeks and no texts back later, you sat in your usual foldable seat and waited. But he never showed. Your eyes watched the doors patiently, and you counted every last participant, thinking that the next one had to be Spencer.

But they weren’t. He was nowhere to be found. You had sat on your feelings for him for weeks, sat on with nasty comments and behavior for two weeks, and found yourself still waiting. He didn’t have to attend every meeting, but you felt even more desperate than before. Hating the feeling, you left halfway through.

It wasn’t like you could force him to talk to or forgive you. But it hurt knowing just how much you had hurt him. Were you being selfish for wanting a chance to confess to him again? Was it selfish how you looked for him in every crowd?

The unfortunate reality of your pain was that you were so scared of falling in love again that you pushed love away before it could even touch you. You found yourself driving to Alex’s grave that night. It was out of your way, but you didn’t want to go home just to wait by the phone again.

After parking in a nearby parking lot, you found yourself standing in the middle of a very dark, isolated cemetery. If Spencer were here, he would say how dangerous this was, maybe even throw in a statistic just to solidify his point.

You smile, eyes adjusting in the moonlight as you look down at your dead lover’s grave. You crouch, touching a bouquet of almost-dead flowers at the foot of his grave. “Was I bad at this with you, too?” Your fingers trace the brittle petals of a dying rose.

You can hear the crunching of gravel and slush approaching you, and a part of you freezes. As the sound gets closer, you can hear panting, your head turning cautiously to look for your rapidly approaching company.

When you see the silhouette of a man not too far down the trail, you tense. How stupid were you to be in a secluded area in the middle of the night? You curse under your breath and stay crouched, hoping it’s just a late-night jogger passing through and that he won’t see you if you stay low.

Your eyes stay on the figure, and you mentally go over possible escape plans when you see it— a messenger bag. What kind of serial killer or jogger wears a messenger bag? Your tense shoulders briefly relax for a second at the thought.

Then, a hint of moonlight illuminates your huffing stranger— messy brown hair and a crooked tie. You stand, “Spencer?” You say his name when he approaches you, the moonlight letting you get a glimpse of his soft eyes for a moment. “What are you… How’d you know I’d be here? What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t at the meeting,” He huffs, leaning over to rest his palms on his knees.

“I–” You scoff, slightly amused. “I left early. Did you show up?”

“No,” he admits, his tone becoming sharper as he catches his breath. “No, I–” he hesitates for a moment, “I saw your car on my way home, and I got worried, and I–” He roughly drags a hand through his curls, “You shouldn’t be in isolated places like this late at night.”

Your shocked expression melts, and your lips quirk into a slight smile. Spencer sees this and responds sharply, “I’m being serious!”

You hold up both hands, “I know, I—” You sigh, a slight chuckle following the sound before you say, “I knew you were going to say that. I could hear your voice when I parked across the street.”

“Maybe you should listen to it sometime,”

You nod, and then a moment of cold silence follows. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment before you feel your lips moving against your will, “You never called,”

Spencer can feel his heartbeat quicken, “Wasn’t aware I had to.”

“You didn’t have to. I just would have–” You cut yourself off, nervously licking your lips. “I wanted you to.”

Spencer stays quiet before he replies with a soft “I’m sorry,”

You find your smile returning as you shake your head, “That’s my line,”

He lets a little chuckle at that, ready to tell you it’s okay, when you quickly add, “I’m sorry for how I acted three weeks ago. I shouldn’t have been so cruel or close-minded, and I should have been honest with you about my feelings. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry for implying your love for Maeve wasn’t special. Oh, Spencer,” You let out a heartbroken sigh, “I feel terrible. I was such a bad friend, and these past few weeks, all I’ve wanted to do is make it up to you.”

You can feel the tears threatening to fill your vision, your cheeks burning in the cold as you let out a meek, “Tell me there’s something I can do to make it up to you,”

Spencer can see your pleading eyes in the moonlight, and his chest tightens at the sight. Ignoring your calls and texts wasn’t easy, but he was convinced that it was the right thing to do. You weren’t ready to move on, and neither was he— not completely, but he didn’t want to try with anyone else. He only wanted to try with you.

He swallows thickly when he says a sweet “You’ve already done it,” Then you’re beaming at him, and he’s right back where he was three weeks ago. As you dry your misting eyes, he softly confesses, “I watched You’ve Got Mail.” He pauses, smiling lightly when you give him a surprised look through your tears. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I–” He nervously moved his hands as he talked, “I watched any Romcom that I could get my hands on because I—”

You smile as he trails off, his hands twisting together in that nervous way that tells you he’s scared to say the rest of his sentence— he’s too afraid to say he missed you. “Me too,” You confess, “I missed you, too.”

He nods, a grin on his face as he looks at you. He can feel his confession rising in his throat, his lips moving awkwardly as he tries to gain the confidence to confess to you again.

But, before he can say anything, you’re speaking, “I don’t know if you still feel the same as you did three weeks ago, but I–” You swallow hard, clearing your throat softly. Your hands move with you as you speak, the cold making them feel slightly stiff. “For the longest time, I couldn’t imagine myself happy with anyone other than Alex.” You blow out a sigh, glancing back at his tombstone. “I thought one great love was enough— I only deserved one. I was happy with that, and I felt lucky for it.”

You can feel yourself trembling, and you don’t know if it’s the cold or your nerves getting the better of you; nonetheless, you keep going, “But lately, I’ve been thinking— hoping really— that you’re the expectation.” You squeeze your eyes tight at that last bit, trying to calm your breathing as you wait for his response.

“If anyone deserves more than one great love, it’s you.” Spencer’s voice sounds closer, soft.

When you open your eyes, you realize he is closer, inches from you. You gaze up at him, giving him a light smile when he whispers, “We can take it slower,”

“I like slower.”

He laughs and nods, “Me too,” he holds out a cold hand for you to take, “Let me walk you to your car?”

You stare at his palm, watching your cold fingers intertwine with his. The sensation makes the tips of your fingers buzz with anticipation. You feel his hand gives yours a slight squeeze before guiding you to the parking lot across the street.

It’s not the last time you walk side-by-side, holding hands in the middle of the cold East Coast winter, and he’s determined to make sure it’s not your last.

And whenever anyone asks how the two of you met, Spencer lets you tell the story, his hand slipping into yours as you say, “Well, it’s a bit of a long story.”

#fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #spencer x you #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid criminal minds #dr reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #...and fall in love whenever you can #it-was-summer

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starsinmylatte · 1 year ago

Text

Be Our Girl?

If you saw Tumblr immediately flag this, no, you didn't.

This is the first request I received as part of my JJK Fic Readers Supporting Noury event. There are still slots open, so please click the link for more info!

Thank you to @enchantedsylveon for their support and the wonderful request 💜. I went way over the word count because I got possessed by the spirit of horny. Forgive me 😅

Pairing: Geto x Gojo x afab!reader (aka SatoSugu x afab!reader) Rating: Explicit (18+ minors DNI) Word Count: 6.8k Request: Morally grey, obsessive pleasure doms Gojo and Geto take care of their girl while she's on her period.

Click here to join my taglist!

Warnings are found below the cut!

A/N: This is my first time writing a threesome AND my first time writing for both of these characters....... So, Leeeeeroy Jenkins!

Warnings (besides what it says on the request): Use of pet names (princess, baby, etc), references to mental health issues, multiple sex positions, dacryphilia, cursing, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, cum eating, banter during sex, breeding kink, cervix fucking, deepthroating, praise and light degradation, y'all get the gist this is some filth (affectionate)

It was early one morning, far too early for any sane person to be awake as you sat on a couch, trapped between your two long-time friends. On one end of the couch, Satoru Gojo pouted and stared out the nearby window, nursing a can of soda like it was hard liquor. Geto Suguru occupied the other end, glaring at the wall like he wanted to burn a hole through it. He was doing his damnedest to avoid paying his best friend any attention as you sat between the two men, grumbling under your breath. You were unlucky enough to be quite literally in the middle of their dispute.

The two young men had been fighting so much recently, and it had honestly hurt your heart to see. Their bickering had affected their efforts in school, nearly destroyed both of their mental health, and strained their relationship to a breaking point. Shoko had advised you to leave it alone, saying the boys needed to figure it out on their own or just fuck already, but as their other best friend, you just couldn’t take much more of it. Especially when Satoru made a habit of coming over at three A.M. to complain about Suguru.

Funnily enough, that was precisely what had led to the current situation. Satoru had shown up, knocked so hard that he nearly broke your door down in the process, and shoved his way inside your apartment despite your many protests.

Now, there were multiple reasons why his visit was horribly timed. The first would’ve been immediately evident if the strongest sorcerer wasn’t so preoccupied. You were wincing in pain when you answered the door, clutching a hot water bottle to your lower stomach, and Gojo had been too oblivious to notice. He simply brushed past you, already ranting as he headed directly for your plush couch.

“‘Toru, wait-“

“That emo bastard can’t get it through his thick skull that we’re supposed to be friends. He-” Satoru paused mid-rant as the emo bastard in question sat up on your couch, groaning. Suguru had been fast asleep until now, and the raven-haired man looked pissed that he had been woken up.

The deep circles under Suguru’s eyes had only grown more exaggerated in the past few days, and his long, beautiful raven hair was a tangled mess. You could see the weariness he carried creep under his skin more and more, and it honestly terrified you. Suguru had confided in you that he could barely sleep anymore, and like the good friend you were, you offered for him to sleep on your couch, hoping the proximity to a close friend would help ease his mind.

“You’d better be talking about someone else,” Suguru hissed at Gojo, dark eyes flashing with anger as you slammed the heel of your hand against your head.

“I can already feel another migraine coming,” you muttered under your breath. “‘Satoru, as I was trying to say, you may want to come back later because I. already. have. company.”

You punctuated your words with brief pauses, not even bothering to try and hide the annoyance in your tone. Gojo pursed his lips dramatically, rolling his eyes. He immediately turned on his heel to leave, but you beat him to the door. “Oh, no. You didn’t listen to me, so you get to stay. I am not in the mood for this to be a revolving door today.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but one look from you silenced him. You motioned for Geto to scoot over on the couch, and the sleep-deprived man shot you an incredulous look as Gojo pilfered a soda from your fridge.

Nearly thirty minutes of awkward silence had passed between the three of you on the couch before you’d finally had enough. You had been trying to be a good, patient friend, but this morning was the absolute last straw. For half of the previous night, you’d been curled up in a ball with the most abysmal cramps, completely unable to sleep. Finally, after what had felt like an eternity, you had drifted off… only to be woken up by Gojo thirty minutes later. Your cramps were still coming in awful waves, and no medication was helping. You simply wanted to melt into the floor, but you were being forced to babysit two of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers who had ever lived while they behaved like petulant children.

A particularly harsh cramp had you gritting your teeth, barely able to speak as you forced two words past your lips. “That’s enough.”

Both of your companions’ heads whipped around, and you felt the weight of two completely different gazes. One was ice-cold, and the second felt like scorched earth; they were polar opposites, but each held the same intense gravity.

“The two of you are going to talk this out. This all passed ridiculous a long time ago.” You continued, gesturing around dramatically with one hand, holding up the other to silence the noises of protest that left both men. Your throat felt dry and raw with anger. All of the frustration and pain in your body had coalesced into a single, white-hot ball of emotion, which was currently clawing its way out of your throat with a vengeance.

“I’m not finished. Geto Suguru, I want you to feel better, but you have to open up to us. If you keep all your emotions bottled up, you’re going to go insane one day and start a cult or something.”

Geto looked down at his folded hands, clearly a bit stunned by your outburst. Normally, something like this would’ve never happened. You were always such a caring, sweet girl, and you had never lost your temper in front of either man. Both Gojo and Geto instantly knew that they’d fucked up for you to be this viscerally angry and use their full names at the same time. You had never called them anything other than their first names for the many years you’d been friends.

“And you, Gojo Satoru, need to calm down and try to understand your best friend more. The two of you need to actually talk. You’ve just expected Suguru to come to you for help all this time, but you could also reach out first.” Gojo had the decency to blush in embarrassment, setting his soda can down on a coaster while you scolded him.

You stood rather abruptly, intending to leave the two men to sulk while you crawled back into your warm bed, but you forgot about one very important thing in your addled state. The hot water bottle was still on your lap, and it hit the floor with a loud clang the second you stood. Water splashed everywhere, finally catching the attention of both men. Gojo’s icy gaze met Geto’s earthen one as the full situation finally clicked in their heads, and they shared a look that clearly read “oh shit.”

The loss of the water bottle’s comforting warmth was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Fat, hot tears started to roll down your cheeks as you felt your uterus violently contract again. You doubled over, and both men stood, rushing to your side as you cried out in pain, fully sobbing.

“You’re making all of us worry, especially me. I just can’t keep listening to my two best friends complain about each other instead of talking through their problems, and I feel horrible right now, and I just-”

Geto ran a comforting hand down your back. “Shit. Shhh… We’re sorry for making you worry. Right, Satoru?”

Gojo sighed as the raven-haired man stared at him pointedly. “He’s right, we’re very sorry. C’mere, let’s get you back into bed.”

He held his arms out as you sniffled, wiping at your eyes. With one swift motion, Gojo scooped you up in his arms as Suguru quickly towled up the water on the floor. Somewhere deep in your mind, you realized that you could feel Satoru’s warm skin against yours; he had turned off Infinity for you. He cradled you for a few precious minutes, purring soft reassurances against your ear that had you relaxing into his arms.

“S’ alright. I’ve got you.”

Suguru rolled his eyes and finished cleaning in almost record time. He pushed his friend toward your room, entering first to scoop your sheets aside and plug in your big heating pad. Gojo laid you down on the soft mattress, and you immediately snuggled up underneath the sheets. Another sharp stab of pain made you wince, and the two men shared another pointed look and a collective sigh, finding enough truce in their argument to climb into the bed on either side of you.

Geto passed the heating pad to Gojo, who gently placed it against your lower stomach before pulling you against his chest. You clung to him happily, nuzzling into his warmth. However, this new position also made you oblivious to the way Geto’s eyes flashed in frustration at the sight.

The raven-haired man pulled your back against his chest in retaliation, splaying a possessive hand over your hip as Gojo smirked at him. You murmured in appreciation, unconsciously shifting to lay against them equally as you drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep. Geto and Gojo locked eyes and finally relaxed, seemingly arriving at some unspoken agreement. They joined you in a deep, comfortable sleep, and it was by far the best sleep any of you had gotten in months.

The three of you only grew closer after that night. It had only taken a week for Gojo and Geto to patch up their relationship, and they emerged with a stronger bond than before. When Shoko asked about the change, the boys cheerfully credited your period-induced breakdown as the catalyst that led them to reconcile. Gojo would grin cheekily, the action only mirrored by his raven-haired counterpart’s self-satisfied smirk as the two repeated the very same answer to everyone else who asked. They also pointedly ignored how you blushed and stammered at them, “Please, stop telling everyone about that.”

“No can do, sweetheart.” Satoru winked at you over the rim of his dark glasses before sighing dramatically, poking at your soft, pouting cheeks, “Besides, where would we be without you? You put us in our place, so you deserve all the credit.”

Geto chuckled, a darkly amused glint in his eyes as he placed his large hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “You’re right. We both need our girl to keep us straight.”

–

Time flew by as the three of you graduated and rejoined Tokyo Jujutsu High as young teachers. Life was… interesting; some things had changed for you, but many things still stayed the same. For one thing, you, Satoru, and Suguru were still incredibly close. Even though there were always missions to complete, students to educate, and monsters to kill, the three of you made time to spend together.

Quite often, your “quality time” with the two men was spent in the form of a massive movie night at your apartment. There had been many discussions about moving it to Gojo’s ritzy new place, but the routine was already too ingrained in the three of you. So, every other weekend, you all piled on top of your plush sofa to watch cheesy movies, cycling through picks from every genre imaginable until everyone fell asleep.

However, as much as you enjoyed the tradition, you had almost canceled tonight’s marathon. The worst part of your period was supposed to be over by now, but the heavy cramping hadn’t let up at all.

“Those two better be glad I love them so much,” you muttered, blushing slightly as you caught your accidental choice of words.

Love? No, I don’t love those two. We’re just friends. Really good friends.

Thoughts continued to whirl around your head as you hurriedly tidied up your living room and small kitchen, preparing everything for the night. No, you most definitely weren’t in love with both of your best friends at the same time. You were so good at ignoring how the two men had only grown more handsome and attentive to you since their big argument, and you definitely never imagined them taking you to bed….

By the time you had nearly convinced yourself that denial was just a river in Egypt, there was a cheerful knock at the door. The knock lasted for all of two seconds before Satoru pushed it open, grinning widely. The white-haired man still wore his blindfold but had traded his usual all-black uniform for a pair of suspiciously designer-looking grey sweatpants and a soft, black t-shirt.

“I brought treats!” He chimed, setting his armful of baked goods and sweets on the counter.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “‘Toru, did you rob a small bakery? You know you’re the only one who will eat most of it.”

He noticed how you greedily eyed a bar of dark chocolate, snatching it up and waving it at you teasingly, “Oh, so you want me to take it back, then?”

You pouted, trying to reach for the bar as Satoru weaponized his height against you. He held the chocolate just out of reach, and you jumped, almost brushing the very edge of the wrapper. You landed awkwardly, stumbling backward into something- no, someone- very solid. A rich, amused chuckle tickled your ear as Suguru caught you, reaching up to pluck the bar from Gojo’s hand as his hand cupped your hip.

“Having fun without me, already?”

“‘Toru’s being mean,” you complained as Suguru passed the sweet to you with a snide grin directed at the other man.

“Fine,” he sighed dramatically, removing his blindfold to wink at you. “I’ve wounded our princess so she can have the first movie pick tonight.

Your heart twisted and fluttered in your chest at the use of that pet name and the sight of his gorgeous cerulean eyes, but you shoved that feeling aside as quickly as it appeared.

“I can forgive you… this time.”

“And you can make the first batch of popcorn,” Suguru added, his signature sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I’ll make sure to burn yours,” Gojo grumbled in response, heading for the kitchen as Suguru herded you toward the couch.

You plopped down onto the middle of the couch, and Geto settled to your left, promptly handing you the chunky knit blanket you favored. Funnily enough, the arrangement the three of you sat in was as much of a tradition as the movie night itself; you were always in the middle of the two men. The three of you were always sandwiched together, but that didn’t make you flustered. Jujutsu sorcery took such a high mental toll that you had long figured any cuddling was strictly platonic.

Geto looped his arm around your waist, pulling you close, and you almost sighed in happiness as you caught the comforting scent of sandalwood soap and incense that always surrounded him. You tipped your head against his shoulder, smiling contentedly and nibbling into the chocolate bar as the two of you flipped through movies, looking for the perfect one. Gojo cursed loudly in the other room, and you giggled at the loud banging coming from the stove.

A few hours later, you finally got to Geto’s pick: a cheesy B-grade horror movie. Bags of candy and popcorn lay strewn over the coffee table as the three of you watched the final girl run from yet another masked killer. You had excused yourself to the bathroom half an hour ago to take some medicine and change into a fresh pad, but your cramps stubbornly refused to give up. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin the night, so you suffered in silence, silently wincing in pain every few minutes.

Geto and Gojo shared a look as they felt your body tense for the umpteenth time, and the raven-haired man clicked pause on the remote while his counterpart rubbed tiny circles over the small of your back.

“What is it?” Suguru asked, his voice and expression both filled with concern.

“Nothing, really. I’m fine.” You tried to reassure both men, but they gazed at you, unimpressed and clearly not buying your story.

“We know you well enough to know that’s not true.” Gojo gazed at you, suddenly more serious than he’d been all night. Geto squeezed your shoulder gently, and both men scooted even closer to you, clearly unwilling to let it go.

“Fine,” you grumbled. “I’m on my period, and my cramps are really bad right now. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want tonight to end yet, even though I don’t feel well.”

Geto’s gaze softened, and Gojo laughed quietly, “You know we couldn’t leave our girl when she’s in pain.”

Your cheeks flushed hotly at Satoru’s words.

“You know I’ll never get a boyfriend if you keep calling me that.”

The words left your lips before you could even think about what you were saying; the temperature in the room instantly felt ten degrees colder. Suguru’s deep, coffee-colored gaze narrowed instantly, and Gojo tipped his head down to look you in the eyes, his pale irises shining almost eerily in the dim light.

“Do you not… want to be our girl?” Suguru leaned down to whisper against the shell of your ear, his voice a velvet purr that made you shudder. You felt both men hold you tighter, their grip infinitely more possessive; Geto nipped at the shell of your ear lightly, drawing a small moan out of you.

“Sugu…. I….. mmmmph..”

Gojo traced a finger underneath your chin, tilting your eyes to meet his calm gaze. The new angle of your neck gave Geto the perfect angle to kiss up and down the column of your neck, which he promptly took advantage of, ghosting his lips across the sensitive skin. You shuddered, whimpering slightly as Satoru held your face still in one of his large, calloused hands.

“He asked you a question, baby,” Satoru crooned, a smirk tugging at the corner of his unfairly perfect lips.

Embarrassment mixed with growing lust dusted your cheeks, and your eyelashes fluttered in sync with every sinful drag of Geto’s lips against your skin. Your head was growing fuzzy, yet your body felt light as a feather as you relaxed between the two large men. Any thought of your previous pain had faded away in a sea of bliss and disbelief until another vicious cramp tore through your abdomen. You jolted upright, worry flashing in your eyes. The two men paused immediately, backing off to let you speak.

“Even if I do want this…. We can’t right now. I’m….” You trailed off in embarrassment, staring down at the hem of your shirt.

“Do you think so little of us, sweetheart? You think we’re frightened by a little blood? Geto crooned, and Gojo grinned in response, gasping in mock indignation.

You shook your head slightly, stammering in protest. “I-I don’t think you’re afraid of it, just that ‘s gross.”

Gojo caressed your cheek with his thumb, and Geto nuzzled his nose against the crook of your neck in reassurance. “Nothing about you could ever be gross; what you’re going through is the most natural thing in the world.” The raven-haired man murmured.

“And b-both of you want me?” You responded in a daze.

“Yeah. It’s been that way for years,” Satoru smiled, unashamedly staring at the swell of your slightly parted lips as you gasped in response.

“It’s been the three of us for our entire lives, and you kept it that way. I don’t see why it should ever change,” Geto added with a low note of amusement. He caressed your waist, and another shudder ran down your spine. “You’ve been ours for years… we’ve just been waiting for you to realize it. Let us take care of you, baby. You’ve done so much for us.”

Every nerve ending of your body crackled like a live wire as the two men waited with bated breath for your response. Your mind whirled as you tried to string together an actual sentence. Finally, you were able to moan a single word. “Please…”

The effect it had on the two men was instantaneous. Suguru groaned, reattaching his lips to your neck and pulling you back into his lap. Your back hit his broad, muscular chest, and you melted against him instantly.

“Fuck, you have no idea how long we’ve waited for this…. How many men we’ve chased off because they didn’t deserve you.” Satoru mumbled, surging forward to claim your lips with his own, pinning you against the other man. The kiss started out soft but quickly grew more insistent as you moaned and whimpered every time Suguru grazed your decolletage with his teeth. He started to pull the neck of your shirt aside for better access to more skin, and you writhed in his arms as he left bruises in the wake of his lips.

At any other time, you would’ve questioned Satoru’s confession, but right now, you felt hot, almost delirious with budding desire, as he reached down to trail his fingers over your clothed pussy. He rubbed directly over your little clit, but the pleasure you craved was muted by the thick added layer of your pad, and you whined in protest. “‘Toru, need you s’badly.”

“You hear that? Our princess needs you, Satoru.” Geto purred as the other man continued tracing the outline of your pussy.

You rocked your hips against his fingers, desperate to feel more, but you only succeeded in teasing Suguru as you accidentally rocked your ass directly against his rapidly growing erection.

He hissed loudly, trailing one of his hands under your shirt to cup your bare waist. Gojo chuckled at the sight of his best friend’s suffering, sucking on your bottom lip before pulling away with an audible pop. “Careful now, or you’re gonna make it hard for him to last.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Suguru groaned in response, trailing his hand up to paw at your breast. You whined as he lightly pinched and rolled a nipple between his clever fingers, and the raven-haired man chuckled roughly, “Look at how dirty our girl is, not even wearing a bra. She’s so damn sensitive.”

Your pussy throbbed at his words as Gojo leaned back, kneeling on the couch to watch the show you and Geto were putting on in front of him. Your gaze was half-lidded and hazy with lust, but you could still clearly see the way the muscles of his arm flexed as he reached down to palm his own erection. It stood proud, visibly tenting the dark grey sweatpants he wore, and your mouth watered at the mere outline of his dick. It looked so long and thick, and you could only imagine the bliss of it stuffing you and dragging against your deepest, most sensitive parts.

He brushed a strand of white hair off his face, looking at you with another cocky smirk as he addressed the other man. “Oi, help me out here, Suguru. I seem to remember something about cramps… I think they’re improved by medicine, a heating pad, or something else. Now, what could that be?”

Gojo paused for a clear, dramatic effect, his wolfish grin only growing wider as your breath caught in your throat. You were so distracted that you didn’t even realize Geto’s lips had trailed back up to your ear as he responded in a dulcet whisper, “I think the answer might be ‘they’re improved by orgasms.’ What do you think, pretty?”

“Yes, god yes,” you begged, rubbing your thighs together. The dull ache of your period had faded away into the haze of lust, but your pussy throbbed, begging to be filled.

Satoru winked at you, leaving the couch and walking into your bedroom for a moment. You whimpered as he left, and Geto chuckled again at your reaction, giving your nipple another rough pinch. “There’s no god here, baby, just us. But we’re gonna do you so good… Gonna ruin you for anyone else.”

You lay against his chest as Suguru pushed your shirt all the way up, tucking the hem between your teeth to give himself full, unimpeded access to your chest. He maneuvered the two of you around slightly, leaving you in his lap but allowing both of your legs to dangle off the edge of the couch. “Let’s give Satoru something to look at when he comes back, hmm? Bet he’d love to see these perfect tits.”

He took each of your breasts into his warm hands, alternating between kneading the soft, supple flesh and pinching your aching nipples. You could only moan softly through the fabric of the shirt stuffed in your mouth as Geto took you higher and higher into bliss with every movement.

Gojo walked back in not a minute later, holding a few fluffy, black towels. His beautiful eyes widened at the perfectly pornographic scene spread out in front of him, and he cursed under his breath, rushing back to the couch as Geto smirked at his best friend’s needy expression.

“Careful, or he’s not gonna last long,” he teased, tugging off your shirt as he parodied Gojo’s earlier sentiment.

The white-haired man huffed and shook his head sarcastically, but you certainly didn’t miss the way he threw his own shirt off and knelt between your legs as quickly as he could. His eyes were shining with ravenous desire, and your pussy throbbed as you realized that Geto’s teasing had an edge of truth.

Gojo smiled up at you, tucking a towel between your hips and Geto’s lap before hooking his hands into the waistband of your pants, gently tugging them down and tossing them away.

“Gonna let me taste you, baby?” He keened, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the inside of your thighs as his long fingers toyed with the hem of your panties.

You bit your lip as a million worries flooded your mind, but Suguru caressed your face, whispering conspiratorially, “Think about how pretty he’s gonna look between your legs. He can finally put that smartass mouth of his to good use, right?”

Satoru nibbled his way up your skin, sucking a dark hickey at the apex of your thigh as Geto continued to lavish your breasts with affection. You whined and moaned, keening with every touch. It felt like your entire body was on fire, and you’d go up in flames without the touch of both men. Any embarrassment you could’ve felt had long since evaporated; all you could do was beg for more as both men left their mark on your body.

“‘Toru, please… Wanna cum so bad.” You whined, begging for relief, and Gojo glanced up at you with an expression that would’ve terrified anyone else. He may have been in a traditionally submissive position, but there was nothing submissive about his body language; he looked like a fallen angel with the way his pale hair framed his face.

He slipped your panties off, breathing becoming heavier and heavier as all of your perfect body was finally revealed to his ravenous gaze. Satoru threw your legs around his shoulders, leaning back just enough to inspect your cunt. His pale eyelashes fluttered as he used one of his long fingers to part your puffy, swollen folds, completely mesmerized as you moaned his name and your cunt clenched in sheer anticipation of his touch. You were obscenely wet from the mixture of blood and arousal that trailed down your legs, and Gojo couldn’t wait any longer.

“Our girl’s got a perfect fucking pussy, Suguru,” He mumbled, diving in to lick a fat stripe all the way up to your clit. You moaned wantonly, your head lolling back against Geto’s strong chest as the man behind you held your body upright, still enamored with the way your breasts fit in his hands.

Period sex was very new to you, but you could already tell that it felt different- not different, better. You felt more sensitive than ever before, and not just between your legs. Your breasts felt heavy and full; you had a sneaking suspicion that you could’ve cum from Geto toying with them alone.

Gojo’s eyes fluttered shut in bliss as he ate you out like a man starved. He lapped up every bit of arousal and blood from your weeping pussy, fucking you with his tongue before trailing delicious circles on your swollen clit with his tongue until you screamed his name. Your thighs wrapped around Satoru’s head, and the white-haired man moaned desperately, taking the opportunity to slip two fingers deep into your cunt. You keened at the delicious stretch, and Suguru groaned at the sight.

“T-Toru… Ah-! Sugu….” Tears of pure bliss started to gather in the corners of your eyes as Satoru’s fingers rubbed mercilessly against your G-spot. You felt a familiar band of pleasure start to stretch in your lower stomach, and you whined in desperation. Suguru grabbed one of your arms, pressing desperate kisses against the delicate skin of your inner wrist as his other hand toyed with a nipple in time with Satoru’s thrusts.

“S’close.. Nnnnngh, gonna cum… pleasepleaseplea-” The band of pleasure snapped suddenly before you could even finish your sentence, launching you over the edge of the most intense orgasm of your life. Tears fell as you shattered in between the two men, crying and rocking your hips against Satoru’s face while your core fluttered around his fingers.

“You’re fucking perfect,” Suguru growled as he scooped you up. He cradled you in his arms and leaned down to kiss you as Satoru stood, licking the blood and cum off his fingers.

The taller man grinned as the two of you kissed passionately, leaning over to wipe a tear off your cheek.

“Baby, you cryin'?” Satoru simpered before leaning in to lick off another tear. When Suguru pulled away to tell him off, Satoru pulled him into a searing kiss, slotting his tongue into the other man’s mouth. Geto’s eyes flared in shock before he leaned into the embrace, moaning as he tasted your arousal on his best friend’s tongue.

“I thought you deserved a taste, too. Isn’t she sweet?” Gojo asked innocently as he pulled away to kiss you as well. You whined and ran your hand over his bare chest as the white-haired man nipped at your already kiss-swollen bottom lip.

“Bedroom. Now.” Geto stood abruptly, his voice hoarse as he broke the embrace between you and Gojo. He carried you in his arms, shoving another large towel on top of your sheets before gently laying you on top of it. Your head lolled to the side, and you reached down to play with your puffy little clit, moaning softly as the men finished undressing in front of you.

You watched shamelessly, taking in the sight of their beautiful bodies. Both men were tall and muscular, but Satoru was taller with more of a lean build, almost like an acrobat or a swimmer. Suguru was truly the Yin to Gojo’s Yang; he was stockier and deliciously broad. It was an undeniable fact that both men were gorgeous.

“Sugu… Toru…. Please. Wanna feel you both in me,” You begged, rocking your hips against the movement of your fingers, not even caring about how needy you sounded.

The bed dipped with their weight as both men joined you on the bed without further hesitation. Geto knelt in front of you, motioning for you to get on all fours and face him. You hummed in delight, rolling over and pushing yourself up to face him. Suddenly, Gojo pinched your plush ass with a snicker. You gasped in shock, and Suguru took the opportunity to slap his thick cockhead onto your tongue.

“We’re gonna fuck you raw from both ends first, baby. Gonna really make you ours. How’s that sound?” He questioned with a smirk, rubbing his fat tip over your tongue.

Your gasp quickly turned into a purr of delight as you worked his tip into your mouth, greedily licking at the prominent vein that ran underneath his shaft. Geto’s raven-dark hair fell around his shoulders like a curtain as he moaned loudly. You could taste the salt and musk of his pre-cum as you worked his shaft deeper and deeper into your throat.

Gojo cursed lowly as he lined up his swollen cockhead with your opening. You wiggled your hips back at him, wordlessly begging to feel the stretch and delicious length of him deep inside you. He pushed in at an agonizingly slow pace, trying to give you time to adjust.

You moaned in ecstasy, and Geto gasped, bucking his hips slightly as he felt the vibrations of your throat around his shaft. “Fucking hell, baby. You’re sucking my dick like you were made for it.”

Gojo pushed in further, finally bottoming out with his fat cockhead nestled snugly against your cervix. You whined at the dull ache, but the feeling was addictive. You rocked your hips, desperate for more, and the white-haired man moaned. “And she’s sucking me in like she wants to get pregnant tonight.”

Your eyes flew open, and you gasped around Geto’s dick, drawing another ragged moan from the man. It wasn’t what you had intended at all, but you couldn’t hide your reaction to Satoru’s lascivious words, especially since he could feel your core fluttering in agreement with his statement.

You could feel the wickedly delighted grin spread across his face as Gojo grew deadly silent for a moment. “Oh, Suguru~ you should’ve felt the way she just clenched around me when I said that. Our girl is even dirtier than we thought.”

“I told you she’s perfect.” Geto slid into your mouth even further, sighing in bliss and his own ecstasy as he pushed into your throat, entwining his hands in your hair. You gagged for a brief moment; his dick had more girth than Gojo’s, and it was the biggest you’d ever taken like this. The raven-haired sorcerer moaned and crooned down at you, stroking the column of your throat where his cock was nestled so deeply.

More tears fell as your eyes watered in the bliss of being so completely used by the two men. You felt so full, so complete, and you couldn’t help but moan again as your nose rubbed against the dark trail of hair on Geto’s lower abdomen.

“Shit, gotta move. You ready, baby?” Gojo groaned, shallowly thrusting his hips. You tried to moan in assent, but the sound was strangled by the dick in your throat.

Geto tipped his head back in ecstasy, laughing hoarsely. “She wants it s’badly, ‘Toru.”

The two men started to move, alternating their thrusts in perfect rhythm like they’d planned this moment for years. Every deep thrust from Gojo would send you falling forward onto Geto’s cock; you could only wordlessly cry in bliss from the position the two men fucked you mercilessly.

Satoru pinched and kneaded the tender flesh of your ass with every thrust. He swiped one of his fingers between your legs, collecting the creamy mixture of his pre-cum and your arousal, offering it out to his best friend with a smirk. Geto sucked it off with an audible pop, groaning at the taste as Satoru returned to collect more. You choked again as you felt one of his long, clever fingers tease your tightest hole, circling the rim with predatory intent.

“Relax, baby. Gotta get you ready f’me.” He slipped his finger in, beginning to work you open as you relaxed into the intense but euphoric sensation.

“Our slutty princess wants all her holes filled, huh?” Geto groaned, looking down at your fucked-out expression. “Gotta cum again for us. Gonna make you cum so hard that you can’t think straight.”

Satoru slipped a second finger into your ass, working you open even further as the two men fell slightly out of sync with their thrusts. They were both breathing hard, grunting and begging desperately for you to cum with them. As if on command, you fell apart for the second time with an obscene moan. White sparks flashed through your vision as your orgasm shot through you, even more forceful than the first. Your cunt spasmed around Gojo so violently that he came on the spot, painting your blood-swollen womb with his pearlescent seed.

Geto cursed at the sound of Gojo’s strangled cry, pulling completely out of your mouth. You panted and moaned below him, your body shaking with every thrust as Gojo fucked you through your orgasm. Suguru groaned as your tongue lolled out, begging to be coated with his cum. His balls felt almost uncomfortably full as he stroked his shaft rapidly, intent on giving you what you begged for so prettily.

It only took a few seconds for Geto’s own orgasm to crash through him. The smooth movements of his hips and hands stuttered as he groaned lowly, painting your pretty face with his seed. However, most of it landed in your mouth, and you happily caught it with your pink tongue, holding it out for him to inspect.

“You’re going to… be the death of me one day,” the raven-haired man moaned as he felt blood immediately rush back to his cock. Instead of swallowing, your eyes shone mischievously, and you turned around to pull Satoru into a searing kiss. You mimicked his earlier actions, but this time you were pushing Suguru’s cum into his mouth.

Gojo moaned wantonly at the sharp taste, swallowing his share as his own cock twitched back to life. Geto pulled you away from the other man, maneuvering you to face him as he brought your hips down, filling you with his cock in a single thrust. You screamed hoarsely, cunt spasming from overstimulation as Gojo laughed roughly, wiping the remainder of his friend’s cum off his lips before positioning himself behind you.

The white-haired man watched greedily as you bounced on Geto’s cock, taking a minute to lean back and stroke his dick until he was fully erect. Gojo pulled your hips back, stilling Geto’s thrusts, and he growled in response.

“Gotta let me in too,” Gojo chided, swiping a finger over his fat tip to coat it with pre-cum as he positioned it against your other hole. Your eyes widened, and you gasped as he started to push into you, stretching you slowly but mercilessly. Geto pulled you in for a ravenous kiss, devouring your litany of moans as he struggled to keep from thrusting into you. After a small eternity, both men were seated fully inside you, and you whined their names over and over like a prayer, begging them to start moving.

“Toru, Sugu… nnnnhgh, ‘m so full,” you cried, leaning your head against Geto’s shoulder as the two men cradled you in their arms. Their hands roamed over your body, caressing and groping every inch of you as they began to move, stretching your body past the very limits of pleasure. Your eyes glazed over; you couldn’t tell who was kissing your neck versus who was rubbing achingly soft circles on your clit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as the two men brought you to climax again and again.

Soft rays of dawn were peeking through your bedroom window by the time the three of you fell onto your bed, breathing hard but finally sated. You looked around at the sheets and at your lovers, blushing hotly at the dried red marks that covered almost every surface in the room. The towels had not lasted long.

Geto chuckled, rubbing your back soothingly, “We’ll clean up. Don’t worry.”

“And we’ll prepare better for next time,” Gojo added with a grin, poking your cheek.

Your whole body felt like jelly, but the two men were determined to care for you properly. Suguru walked into the bathroom, and you could hear the sound of water filling your bathtub as Satoru fetched a glass of water for you, helping you sit up to drink properly. He scooped you up, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as he walked you into the bathroom, depositing you in the warm water. The three of you washed each other in blissful silence, with both men being extra attentive to your sore body. Afterward, they changed your sheets and put you in clean pajamas, slipping their own sweatpants on to climb into bed next to you.

“Thank you…” You murmured, already drifting off to sleep between your two lovers.

Geto kissed your temple silently as Gojo laughed softly, “Of course. We have to take good care of our girl, after all.”

Tagging some friends: @saradika @thefact0rygirl @babygirl-leon-kennedy @hereforthesunrise @ashotofspotchka @ironandglass @amyroswell @cassandrablacker @lady-valtieri @justanothersadperson93 @orangecremepuff @belle-smith07 @outspokenbrat @enchantedsylveon @khaleesihavilliard @spam-love @silverliningsandstorms @msniks @panteramarron @cindyneko-strider @unoriginalidea @eldritchbeauty @markleeisdabestdrug @gabbyburgers @its-chickenwing-450 @luneariaa @akiiireix @tojispookiebear @dangoank0 @ifuckinghateschool @barryatsumu @voids-universe @mahgyu @themoonmonologues @byul9158 @pseudowho

#Lyria's fic for Noury🌻#curse you tumblr for making me repost this #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto smut #geto x reader #gojo satoru x geto suguru #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n

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shy-canadian-snowflake · 1 month ago

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Logan’s POV to Mentally Unwell Wade:

Logan feels so fucking guilty every time he sleeps through the night during nights that Wade is having a hard time. Waking up to see the lost look in Wade’s eyes as he’s been questioning his own reality kills Logan. He keeps asking Wade to wake him but no.

“One of us should get some beauty sleep.” He says with dark circles under his eyes and a more guarded demeanor. The only time the other does wake him, is if Logan himself is having a nightmare. Besides that, Wade will suffer all night being afraid of every shadow, seeing things coming out the walls that aren’t there. He’ll deal with all of that, maybe clinging to Logan a bit harder, he’ll suffer if it means Logan can get some fucking sleep.

One thing to never do around Logan, is to dismiss Wade’s mental health. They go to see Hank, to see if there is any kind of medication that could /Maybe/ help Wade during his episodes. With their healing factor normal meds don’t work, but maybe Hank can come up with something to make the episodes better for Wade.

“You just need some sleep-” Hank started, just for Logan to be ready to throw hands.

“He’s suffering you blue fuck. How can you tell him to get more sleep when he’s to fucking scared to sleep? He’s sleeping during the day because he’s so fucking afraid to sleep at night. Do something about that before you tell him to get some sleep- he fucking would be if-” Only for the rant to go off and eventually leading to fist being thrown.

That is all to say- Logan is no saint himself. It’s fucking soul crushing to see the one he loves fear his own reality. He can’t protect Wade from his mind, if it was anything else he’d claw it to death, but Wade’s brian being mean- that’s harder to fix. He says and does things out of frustration, out of fear, out of guilt.

More than once he’s taken a step back, made sure Wade was safe for now, smoked a cigarette, then tried again. Sometimes Wade is still in a state, sometimes he’s out of it. Either way, Logan tries his damndest to comfort Wade when he can, to try to make Wade understand he’s safe, and make sure Wade knows he’s always loved. No matter what his mind tells him, the one thing he can be sure of is that Logan loves him.

#tw psychosis #tw hallucinations #poolverine #deadclaws #deadpool and wolverine #wade wilson #logan howlett #Mentally Unwell Wade

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lidiasloca · 2 months ago

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despite the hatred, despite the love

part two

azriel x reader

summary: the inner circle atends Helion's party to meet his new second in command, and while she seems to be just a beautiful girl, the hatred that Azriel feels for her and displays for everyone to see isn't bought by his brother, who will soon find out there is something more than hate between them... maybe even love.

Time stopped.

The sound of the hit still reverberated through the silent terrace.

Then it rushed. Helion was the first to move. Smirk gone, he hurried to them, standing in front of her second-in-command, as if protecting her from Azriel’s responding hit.

Rhysand was there in an instant, anger in his eyes at the insult that assumption meant for his brother.

As the High Lady, Cassian stood there unmoving, trying to make sense of this... puzzle.

He had recently thought the thing they had was... love.

Cassian shook his head and finally willed his legs to move, but the moment he took his first step, Azriel started walking as well.

He only shared a quick glance at Y/N before he, once again, walked away, crossing paths with Cassian.

The general decided to stop him the moment he walked past, but at the sight of a subtle smirk on his brother’s face, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but stop in his tracks, throwing an incredulous look at Rhysand.

He is heading to seek the traitor. To complete the mission, Rhys mind-spoke to him.

Cassian’s confusion quickly morphed into anger upon hearing those words echo in his mind.

Azriel, his brother, was always willing to get himself killed in dangerous missions—all so he could go alone, so he carried the burden all by himself.

The general spared one glance at Rhysand before following Azriel into the dark of the night.

Had he not been so blinded by anger, Cassian might have seen the swift steps Y/N took upon seeing him follow the shadowsinger.

He might have seen the worry on her face.

…

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, Cassian.”

“Yes, Azriel.”

The shadowsinger pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing loudly.

Cass bit back the remark he had between his smirking lips for the sake of his brother's health.

Instead, he said plainly, looking around him, “Look. I don’t want you to do this alone. It’s dangerous. And we’re already here. There’s little you can do about it now.”

“I can make you fly back where you came from.”

Cassian huffed a laugh, though a bit of anger still burned in his chest. “Don’t be a pain in the ass, brother.”

His answer was a raised brow that looked very much like, ‘I’m the pain in the ass?’

“So,” he joined his hands together, stepping towards Az. “What do we do now?”

Azriel exhaled again before he explained, “We find the traitors.” Cassian’s smirk faltered at the sight of those murderous eyes. “And then we kill them.”

A tight nod was his answer. And with that settled, the spymaster turned and headed—

“Wha—where are you going?”

Cassian was rapidly behind him, following him like a dog.

“There,” was his evident reply.

Cassian resisted the urge to knock his stubborn brother to the ground and slap that stupidity out of him.

Slap.

Cassian didn’t know whether to laugh or ask about what he had seen.

The slap. And the almost-kiss, not to forget.

“What?” Azriel snapped. Not entirely a question, but more of a quiet command to answer for what their shadows had seen in Cassian’s face.

“Nothing.”

And so Azriel didn’t push. He was rather busy watching their surroundings, taking careful step after step.

But Cassian’s mind did push him. “She slapped you,” was all he said.

He could’ve sworn Azriel stopped—his heartbeat, his moving legs, his breathing chest. Everything stopped.

But he so quickly resumed his walking that it was hard to tell if Cass had imagined it.

He tried again. “But she was going to kiss you. She was going to kiss you,” he added, almost talking to himself.

Azriel still didn’t speak a word.

“Az? Are you going to say nothing?”

Azriel loosened a breath, finally stopping his steps to face his brother. “I—we have to focus, Cassian. This is important. The mission.”

“Sometimes I think the only thing you deem important are the missions.”

Hurt rose in Azriel’s eyes, but it was gone in a blink. “You know that’s not true.”

Cassian shook his head. “I don’t know what’s true about you anymore, Az.”

“Why do you say that?”

A silent moment unfolded—drowned them. Then, “Az, I know what that look meant. I’ve seen it before. And I want to know… I want you to tell me—”

But Cassian didn’t know what to ask exactly.

He wanted answers, but he didn’t have questions. He only had a feeling. Something deep inside him connected to his brother, that made a bridge between the two, told him there was more to it.

And because his brother had been a quiet male all his life, Cassian had learned to listen through that silent connection very acutely.

“You love her?”

Cassian knew the moment those words left his lips, the moment Azriel’s face seemed to crumble, he knew that had been the right question.

“Do you love Y/N, Az?”

Azriel’s face, for the first time, was an open book of his heart. “How—how do you know?” he breathed.

Cassian didn’t have time to take in his words—his confession—before he said, “Nesta looked at me the same way.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment. At last, he murmured, “I love her.”

Cassian finally had the worldly confession. But as he had thought relief would wash over him, it was worry that did.

“Then why do you… act like that, like you hate each other? Or the slap?”

Azriel looked up to the sky thoughtfully, as if the answers were there. “We don’t hate each other. We… fought. She’s mad at me. And I was with her. I…”

“You what?”

“I made a mistake,” he said, meeting his eyes. “More than once. I did everything wrong. Everything.”

“That’s why she slapped you?”

Az let out a humorless laugh, yet there was amusement in his eyes.

“That,” he said. “Was a performance. She surely enjoyed it nonetheless. But it was a performance.”

“Az,” Cassian breathed, showing his palms to him. “What are you talking about?”

Azriel met his confused eyes with a chuckle. “I will explain everything. I promise. But after the mission.”

Cassian followed the shadowsinger’s resumed steps. “Everything?”

“Everything,” Az promised. “But for now, know this: I love her.”

Cassian couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on his face, how happy he felt for his brother.

The question rose. “Do you think… Do you think she could be your mate?”

Azriel smiled. And as he opened his mouth to reply, an arrow pierced through his arm.

And another one, through his chest.

…

Y/N sat rigidly on the couch. In front of her, Feyre studied her subtly—or at least, that’s what she thought.

“What do you find so interesting?” she asked, mustering a fun tone so it didn’t come off as insulting.

The High Lady’s eyebrows rose, but she schooled her face into amusement. “You’ve got some spymaster skills in you, indeed.”

At that, Y/N couldn’t even bring herself to smile.

Spymaster skills.

Unwillingly, memories were evoked in her mind. Slapped her, ironically, one by one.

“You decided for the both of us. You don’t even let me have a say in this,” you’d said, already feeling tears well in your eyes.

“It’s my mission, Y/N,” Azriel had said plainly.

You had shaken your head, failing to recognize the male in front of you. “But you are my mate,” your voice broke on the final word.

“Am I?” he had whispered, as if he had known speaking the words louder would have shattered your heart.

They would’ve.

You took a ragged breath, trying to morph your sadness into anger. “Is this about Helion? You are mad because he kissed me on the cheek? Is that it?”

“Don’t take me for a fool, Y/N. He touches you all the time, he kisses you, he—”

“That doesn’t give you any right to insult me.”

“I was angry. And you… you were letting him touch you like—”

“Like what?!”

“I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry.

“Y/N?” She turned to her voice—Feyre’s.

“What?”

By the sympathetic look on her face, Y/N guessed Feyre might have known where her mind had gone.

“I asked you why… well—what happened back then? With Azriel?”

Y/N stayed silent long enough for Feyre to accept she wouldn’t get an answer.

But, at last, the girl spoke. “A mistake.”

The High Lady nodded, not sure what she meant. “Slapping him?”

“No,” Y/N replied, not meeting her gaze as she reminisced. “Letting him go—”

“Y/N!” They both turned instantly to the yelling voice. Cassian.

The general hurried with difficulty toward them until they both could make out the blood—but no wounds.

They were both next to him instantly.

“Y/N,” he breathed, looking deep into her eyes.

And she knew.

Y/N’s lips trembled as he spoke the words she most feared.

“It’s Azriel.”

next part

-Charcaters by Sarah J Maas

azriel masterlist

BASED ON THIS REQUEST

@bravo-delta-eccho @writtenbypavani @topaz125 @tiredsleepyhead @moonfawnx @buttermilktea11

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #acotar fic #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #az imagine #azriel imagine #azriel fluff #azriel spymaster

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highblkfemsociety · 4 months ago

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Nourish Your Beauty: The Ultimate Fall Vegetable Guide

As the seasons shift, so do our nutritional needs—and the vegetables that thrive in the cooler months are packed with vitamins and minerals perfect for keeping your skin glowing and your health strong. For the Feminine Woman, integrating seasonal produce into your diet not only nourishes your body but also radiates beauty from within. Here are the best fall veggies to stock up on and their incredible benefits for both your health and your skin.

1. Sweet Potatoes

Sweet potatoes are rich in beta-carotene, which your body converts into Vitamin A—a key nutrient for maintaining healthy skin. Vitamin A helps prevent dry skin, keeps it soft, and promotes a youthful appearance by encouraging cell turnover.

Beauty Benefits:

• Glowing Skin: Beta-carotene protects your skin from UV damage and gives it a natural, radiant glow.

• Anti-aging: The high antioxidant content fights free radicals, reducing the appearance of wrinkles.

• Hydration: The Vitamin C in sweet potatoes aids in collagen production, helping to keep skin plump and moisturized.

How to Use: Roast sweet potato slices with olive oil, rosemary, and a pinch of sea salt for a simple yet delicious side dish.

2. Kale

Kale, the queen of greens, is one of the most nutrient-dense vegetables you can add to your diet in fall. It’s loaded with Vitamins C, E, and K, which are crucial for skin health, elasticity, and wound healing.

Beauty Benefits:

• Cleanses Your Skin: Kale’s high fiber helps to detoxify the body, leading to clearer, more even-toned skin.

• Fight Acne: The Vitamin C in kale reduces inflammation, making it a perfect addition to combat blemishes.

• Skin Elasticity: Vitamin K helps with skin elasticity, reducing dark circles and puffiness under the eyes.

How to Use: Add kale to a smoothie for a nutrient boost or sauté it with garlic for a quick, nutrient-packed side.

3. Butternut Squash

Butternut squash is high in Vitamin E, beta-carotene, and potassium, which help your skin stay hydrated, soft, and smooth. It’s perfect for preventing signs of aging while keeping your skin firm.

Beauty Benefits:

• Hydrated Skin: Butternut squash helps retain moisture in your skin due to its rich potassium content.

• Even Skin Tone: Its Vitamin E helps even out your complexion and reduces hyperpigmentation.

• Firmness: The collagen-boosting properties of Vitamin C in this squash keep your skin looking firm and youthful.

How to Use: Roast butternut squash and blend it into a creamy soup or cube it for a hearty salad.

4. Brussels Sprouts

Brussels sprouts are often underrated but are a powerhouse when it comes to skin health. Rich in Vitamin C, Brussels sprouts promote collagen production, which helps maintain your skin’s firmness and elasticity.

Beauty Benefits:

• Brighter Skin: Vitamin C boosts your skin’s radiance, making it look brighter and more youthful.

• Collagen Boost: Collagen production is essential for skin structure and elasticity, reducing sagging and fine lines.

• Detox: Brussels sprouts help detoxify the skin, flushing out harmful toxins and leaving your complexion clear.

How to Use: Roast Brussels sprouts with balsamic vinegar for a tangy, crunchy side dish that’s perfect for fall.

5. Beets

Beets are known for their blood-purifying properties, which lead to clearer, healthier skin. They’re also loaded with antioxidants that prevent signs of premature aging.

Beauty Benefits:

• Glowing Skin: Beets help boost blood circulation, resulting in a natural flush and radiant complexion.

• Detox Power: The high iron content in beets helps detoxify the body, keeping skin clear and blemish-free.

• Anti-Inflammatory: Beets’ anti-inflammatory properties reduce puffiness and redness.

How to Use: Add roasted beets to salads or blend them into smoothies for a pop of vibrant color and nutrients.

Incorporating these seasonal veggies into your fall diet will not only boost your health but also enhance your beauty from the inside out. These nutrient-packed powerhouses will keep your skin hydrated, youthful, and glowing as the temperatures drop.

So, head to your local farmer’s market, stock up on these fall essentials, and let your natural beauty shine!

#hbfsociety #highvaluewomen #nutrition #blackselfcare #blackfemininewomen #highmaintenance #self care #black femininity #high maintenance #healthyliving #healthy eating #beautyhacks

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joelmillermylove · 1 month ago

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His little secret pt.1

dbf!joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel offers to drive you home after a family dinner with him and your parents, but instead he drives you back to his place to have some alone time.

Warnings: 18+ smut, age gap (Joel in his 40s and reader in her late 20s), Secret relationship.

Word count: 1,076

A/N: I haven’t been active for awhile been dealing with my mental health, sorry! I’m now starting to get back in the groove! Luv you guys, hope you enjoy!💕

︵‿︵‿୨♡ ୧‿︵‿︵

It’s Saturday that means family dinner night. You would usually dread family dinner but your parents invited Joel Miller over and little did they know for the past few weeks you’ve had started up a secret relationship with Joel; your dads best friend.

That night Joel offered to drive you back to your apartment because it was so late and your parents being completely blind thought that was so nice of him, But joel doesn’t take you back to your apartment he’s takes you to his place for some alone time.

When you get to his place you go straight to his bedroom. Joel sits on the end of his bed as you Lean against the door frame.

“Come here darlin” as he gives you a devilish smirk.

You giggle and walk over to him, when you get close enough to him he grabs your hips and pulls you in between his knees. You wrap your arms around his neck as His warm rough hands softly run up and down your back under your shirt as it leaves you with goosebumps on your skin.

His eyes searched yours, a warm smile playing on his lips as he reached for the hem of your shirt.

Your heart raced as his fingers brushed against your skin, the fabric of your shirt sliding upward with a whisper of movement. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but gasp softly as he revealed more of your body to the soft light. Joel's gaze followed the path of his hand, lingering on every inch of exposed flesh as if he were committing the sight to memory.

"You’re all i thought about all day" he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His eyes met yours again, full of adoration and hunger "you're so beautiful, my sweet girl".

As Joel continued to lift your shirt, his thumbs grazed the sensitive skin of your stomach, causing your muscles to quiver involuntarily. He noticed your reaction and paused, a smoldering look in his eyes that spoke volumes without a single word. The air between you grew heavier, charged with anticipation. His thumbs traced circles around your navel before moving upward, pausing at the base of your ribcage, teasing the fabric just beneath your breasts.

The room felt like it was spinning as he gently pushed the shirt over your shoulders. It fell to the floor, leaving you in just your bra and jeans. Joel moves closer, his warmth enveloping you. His hands slid around your back, his fingers deftly unhooking the clasp with a click that seemed to echo through the room. The bra straps slid down your arms, and your breasts fell into his waiting hands. He cupped them gently, his thumbs brushing over the hardened nipples, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

Your eyes closed as you leaned into his touch, the heat of his palms sending waves of pleasure through your body. Joel took this as his cue to kiss you again, his mouth moving with a fierce tenderness that stole the breath from your lungs. His hands began to roam, exploring the curves of your back and the dip of your waist, leaving a trail of fire wherever they went.

Suddenly, you felt his hands at the button of your jeans. The zipper rasped open, and he pushed the denim down over your hips. His touch grew more urgent, his breathing ragged against your neck as he peeled the jeans away, leaving you in just your panties. You stepped out of the fabric puddle at your ankles, your legs trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment.

Joel moving back, his gaze raking over your almost-bare body. "Perfect," he breathed, his eyes dark with want. He reached out to trace the waistband of your panties, his thumbs hooking into the material. You could feel the tension in his fingers, the restraint he was fighting to maintain.

The anticipation was almost unbearable. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but also incredibly desired and comforted. Your eyes locked onto his, silently begging for more, for him to make the next move. Joel's smile grew, and he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "I need you" he whispered.

His eyes moving back to find yours again, then over every inch of your exposed flesh. The room was so quiet, you could hear the thunderous beating of your heart, the rush of blood in your ears.

Joel's hands found their way back to your body, his touch feather-light as he traced the curve of your hip and the dip of your waist. He knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours, and kissed the soft skin just above your navel. The sensation was exquisite, and you had to bite back a gasp.

Slowly, with the utmost care, he slid your panties down your legs, leaving you completely naked before him. You felt his hot breath on your skin as he kissed a trail up your thigh, his hands ghosting over your calves and the back of your knees, sending shivers up your spine.

Standing back up, Joel wrapped his arms around your waist, his forehead resting against yours. "You're mine," he whispered, his voice a mix of awe and possession. The words sent a thrill through you, a heady mix of fear and excitement.

With trembling hands, he removed his own shirt, revealing his muscular chest with just a hint of silver in his chest hair, the thought of him that had haunted your dreams. His pants followed, and you couldn't help but stare at the perfection of his body, the way the light played across his skin. He stepped closer, closing the distance between you, and you could feel the heat of his arousal pressing against your stomach.

Joel reached down to trace the line of your jaw with his thumb, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes was almost too much to handle, but you couldn't look away. His other hand found the small of your back, drawing you closer until there was no space left between you. His chest was a wall of heat, and you could feel his heart pounding in time with yours.

"It’s just you and me darlin" he says softly resting his forehead against yours “you and me”.

To be continued…. 😉

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richarlotte · 3 months ago

Note

What did you do/use for your facial beauty glow up?

Lip Filler.

I have 1.5 mL of lip filler at the moment and probably won’t get more any time soon. In my mind, it’s the perfect amount; it gives my lips a delicious, just bitten look, and it doesn’t look or feel unnatural. I’m someone who loves subtle changes; I’m not the sort of girl who’d go crazy with surgery, and I prefer to make my changes slowly. I started with .5 mL, slowly went up to 1.5 mL over the course of two more appointments, and I think plumping my lips up completely changed my lower face and made me look younger and more feminine.

Polynucleotide Injections.

This treatment is major in South Korea; it’s very popular, and one of my best friends went and came back singing its praises. After weight loss, this is the most important thing I have ever done for myself. These injections boosted my collagen production and made the terrible dark circles and puffiness under my eyes disappear. It took a few weeks for me to see the results, but I look like I’ve had an upper and lower blepharoplasty now; my eye area is completely rejuvenated and the skin is bright, and while my initial reaction to the set of treatments I had was intense, the end result was better than I could’ve ever hoped for.

A Comprehensive Skincare Routine.

The skin is the body’s largest organ, and the first step to learning how to care for it is understanding that you and it must be hydrated. Learning that what I put into my body was just as important as what I put onto my skin helped me change my approach to skincare. I mostly use French, Korean, and medical-grade skincare products, and I switch them out each season so that I can approach my needs correctly. Washing and changing my sheets twice weekly, going on a low estrogen birth control, and adding N-acetylcysteine to my supplements helped me more than I could ever say.

Minoxidil.

Using Minoxidil to grow my eyebrows out was one of the best decisions I’ve made for myself. I love the look of thick, lush eyebrows, but I don’t actually like thick brows. I used minoxidil to grow my eyebrows until they were thick and I could have them threaded and thinned out just a bit, straightened, and tinted until they were the shape and shade I wanted. Minoxidil is a great tool; it's decently affordable, and while the results take a while to appear, once they've been appearing, they’re very noticeable. I also use a regular lash serum on my lashes to grow them; it’s from The Ordinary, and I think it works slowly but nicely. You do have to be very precise with your application of Minoxidil, but other than that, it’s very good for filling in sparse eyebrows.

Weight Loss.

Losing over 80 pounds, doing a complete overhaul of my diet and limiting the amount of processed foods I consume, making an effort to care for my body and mind, and changing my mental and physical health for the better completely changed my world. My insulin resistance is totally gone, I’m healed from the PCOS that once plagued me, I no longer eat the foods I have sensitivies to, and the inflammation and water retention I’d have the morning after are gone, and I feel like my best self. My double chin has been vanquished, my bone structure is visible again, and I love the way my nose looks, and I am so much more confident about the shape of my face. Losing weight is the best thing I have ever done for myself, and I’d recommend it to anyone who feels like they need to overhaul their life.

Proper Styling

Learning how to do my makeup, contouring my face with self-tanner, and styling my hair were all major parts of becoming more confident with my face. Now that I know what I’m doing with myself and I’ve been able to identify what suits me best, things come easier. Proper styling is what’ll make or break you. You could be the most beautiful woman in the world, but if you don’t care for your appearance, you’ll struggle. I put a lot of time and effort into learning what looked best on me, learning how to style myself, learning what worked with my facial shape and bone structure, and figuring out which lash maps, brow shape, makeup style, and colors suited the overall aesthetic I was going for. Learning about makeup products, trying a variety of different makeup styles, and new makeup techniques made a world of difference for my styling journey too.

Braces.

I had braces on for just over a year—traditional metal, power chains most of the time—and they were worth every cent. I was always insecure over my teeth, and fixing them has really made it easier for me to smile and express myself. Although they’re not perfectly straight or blindingly white (Kirsten Dunst is known for her smile for a reason), I’m confident, and I love them. Taking care of my teeth is something that I really struggled with at one point, and I have had to make a real effort to get better at that. I still have my dental routines, wear my retainer at night and through the day, and do brightening treatments, but I’m focused on the health of my mouth instead of aesthetics now.

These are the major things.

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choerypetal · 2 months ago

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Home. / Steve Harrington

summary: Once you became Billy's partner, you always knew you'd face the grief of his passing. But with your curse tied to Vecna, enduring those dark times felt even heavier. Unexpectedly, Steve stepped in, becoming a source of solace and shelter for both you and your fractured heart.

ps; english isn't my first language so i truly apologize for some grammar errors or syntax in play. enjoy!

Seeing Billy’s lifeless body at Starcourt Mall was the cruel finale to it all.

An enemy, a friend, and finally a lover—your relationship with Billy had always puzzled those around you, Steve included. Maxine could hardly fathom how her brother and you had ended up together. It was like a cliché from a romance story, and Billy had no qualms about flaunting it, much to the disgust of those who couldn’t stomach your connection.

But amidst the chaos, something beautiful had blossomed. Until the moment of Billy’s last breath—leaving you adrift, unable to find solace or sanity in his absence.

You were certain Vecna wouldn’t come for you—or so you hoped after witnessing Billy’s transformation into something whole and purified. Yet, during those days, you and Billy had grown distant. His job at the Hawkins pool didn’t help; his good looks naturally drew attention, stirring a mix of unease and concern within you. Deep down, you worried about his health—and you had every reason to.

Today marked the first anniversary of his death. Maxine had invited you to visit his grave that morning. The dark circles under your eyes betrayed the restless night you’d had, while your messy hair and the way your fingers clung tightly to Billy’s jacket spoke volumes.

Steve and the others were invited to come along. Since the cemetery was hours away from Hawkins, walking wasn’t an option, and Steve had offered to drive everyone. It wasn’t just for Maxine, or even to pay respect to Billy, despite the fact that Steve had never forgiven him for being an unapologetic jerk. Steve did it, above all, for you.

Steve had seen the changes in you—how you had transformed after being cursed by Vecna. Your body was different, your voice carried a detached tone, and a numbness seemed to cling to you. Neither of you could figure out how to mend what was broken. In his concern, Steve even asked Robin to check in on you once, though you refused her presence. He wasn’t surprised but had hoped for some flicker of the person you used to be. Yet, those glimpses weren’t enough for him. He needed more—needed to hold you, to wrap you in his arms and assure you that you could trust him.

But trust was a fragile thing, especially when you were already struggling with feelings for someone new.

You appreciated Steve’s efforts. From the cookies he brought for Maxine and Susan, courtesy of his mother, to his insistence on staying overnight just to make sure you were okay. It was on one of those nights—one where sleep seemed like an impossible luxury—that his presence felt especially grounding.

The nightmares, however, refused to be silenced. “Y/N...” Billy’s voice echoed endlessly in your mind, haunting you. There were moments you convinced yourself he wasn’t truly gone, that he was somehow alive. And in your mind, he was—always there, just out of reach.

“Y/N…” His voice kept calling you. No, you weren’t going to fall for it. Not this time.

“Y/N!”

Your eyes snapped open, your back jolting upright from the sudden shock. As your breathing steadied, you realized it wasn’t him—it was your mother. She stood at the edge of your bed, her expression etched with concern. A sigh escaped your lips as you placed a hand over your chest, grounding yourself in the reality that it had all been just another nightmare.

“Yes, Mother? What’s the urgency?” you asked groggily, a yawn escaping as you rubbed at your tired eyes. “It’s only…” Your gaze flickered to the clock. “8:00 AM on a Saturday?”

Your mother chuckled softly at your confusion, a hint of amusement in her calm demeanor. Yet there was something more, something hopeful in her expression. “Silly, your father and I are going out for dinner tonight to celebrate our anniversary. You’ll be okay on your own, won’t you? I know things haven’t been the easiest…”

The mention of it—a veiled reference to everything you’d been through—stung, but you masked it with a small, practiced smile. “Of course, don’t worry. I’ll lock the doors and—”

But that wasn’t what she meant, and you both knew it. Her smile faded, replaced by a gentle seriousness. “You know what I mean, sweetie,” she said softly, sitting on the edge of your bed. You lowered your gaze to your hands, fingers nervously picking at each other. A silent sigh escaped your lips. You understood her concern—it was impossible to ignore.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

Clearly, you weren’t okay, but it was the only way you knew how to cope. As the hours passed, you found solace in the pages of a good book, letting the world around you blur into the background.

Then came a knock at the door.

You hesitated, debating whether you should even bother answering. Deep down, you hoped it was just the postman with a routine delivery. But the knock came again, a little more insistent this time. “Coming!” you called out, irritation slipping into your tone as you set the book aside on your mattress and got up. Descending the stairs, you heard another knock, louder and more impatient.

“Coming! Geez,” you muttered under your breath, annoyance growing as you reached for the doorknob. Whoever thought it was appropriate to knock this insistently at this hour had better have a damn good reason, you thought. When you finally swung the door open, Steve’s silhouette greeted you, framed by the golden rays of the early morning sun. He stood there, a tray of familiar cookies balanced in his arms, a sheepish grin tugging at his face.

“Took you long enough,” he teased lightly.

“You better have a good reason for dragging me out of bed at...” you trailed off, leaning back to glance at the clock hanging on the wall. “At 9:00 AM? Not that I don’t appreciate your—”

“Just wanted to bring these cookies,” Steve said, the lie hanging in the air. It wasn’t convincing—because, of course, Steve didn’t just show up with cookies for no reason. Especially not when you could have been peacefully reading your book. But he didn’t seem to care about the timing, and your unconvinced expression only deepened his hesitation.

“Fine,” he relented, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t come over just for the cookies. But…” His words trailed off as he struggled to find the right way to explain. Finally, he continued, “I overheard your mom talking to mine this morning while I was giving Dustin a ride to the arcade. I couldn’t—”

You sighed, cutting him off as realization dawned on you. Of course your mother had called Steve’s mother. Not only were they neighbors, living just a few blocks apart, but they’d also been close friends since high school. A good mother had every right to worry, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

Gently, you took the tray from Steve’s hands, the weight of it grounding you in the moment. Without saying a word, you stepped aside, silently inviting him in. “Fine… I guess your presence doesn’t hurt anybody,” you said, your tone resigned.

Steve exhaled in relief, doing his best to mask how thrilled he felt at your approval. He couldn’t deny how glad he was to see you—even with everything you’d been through, even with the weight you carried.

As he followed you to your room, his gaze flickered over the space. He noticed them immediately: the remnants of Billy still lingering, tucked into corners, sitting on shelves, woven into your world. A jacket draped over a chair. A photo resting on your nightstand.

It was something you’d once explained to him—it was your way of coping. Billy had been a part of your life for nearly a year, a year in which you’d shared so much with him. Secrets. Fears. Dreams. You had been the only person Billy had trusted enough to tell about his father, about the real reason they moved to Hawkins, about why he acted the way he did. You had been his calm amidst the chaos, his anchor in a storm.

But now, what is home when the one you love is… gone?

“Loving the new David Bowie poster,” Steve remarked, trying to lighten the mood. You appreciated the attempt, but instead of responding, you buried yourself back into your book. Noticing this, he leaned forward, reaching toward it as if to snatch it from your hands.

“No, no, no reading, miss,” he teased, pulling his hand back with a grin.

Your lips formed a pout as you furrowed your brows in mock irritation. “I said you could stay here, but that doesn’t mean you get to do anything either,” you shot back, earning a scoff from him.

Arms now crossed, he slumped onto the corner of your bed with a dramatic sigh. “Then what am I supposed to do?” You glanced around the room before your lips curled into a smug smirk. Without a word, you tossed a book in his direction, and it landed squarely on his chest with a dull thud. The impact made him flinch, his eyes closing briefly in exaggerated pain.

“Shit, Y/N. A book? Really?” he grumbled, glaring at you as you chuckled at his expense.

“Books are a great way to learn things,” you retorted with a playful shrug. “Maybe you could figure out how to leave people alone when they want some peace.”

Steve’s glare deepened, his brows knitting together in mock annoyance. “Haha, very funny,” he muttered, his fingers brushing reluctantly over the pages. It was exactly the type of book he’d normally ignore—or toss aside entirely. Why read so many words on a page when you could just watch something instead?

Still, as he sat there, he noticed how engrossed you were in your own book, completely tuned out of his presence. Sighing, he realized he had no choice but to play along. He wasn’t about to leave, not now, and certainly not when he’d already figured out your little game. You glanced up toward Steve, hoping he might finally give up and leave. But to your surprise, you had to blink a few times to confirm what you were seeing. Steve was actually reading? He was completely fixated on the plot, his brow furrowed in concentration. Suddenly, a gasp escaped his mouth, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

Hearing you, Steve glanced over with one brow arched. “What? Now you don’t want me to read?” he asked, feigning an almost-offended look and exaggerating it for effect. “I dare you to even mention to the kids—or my mom—that you made me read.” Another chuckle slipped from your lips. “Oh, Steve. Your secret is safe with me,” you replied with a teasing grin.

By the time evening rolled around, the two of you were both drained, the unexpected task of reading proving more exhausting than either of you expected. Steve let out a soft yawn, stretching his arms after hours of sitting still. At some point, without realizing it, you found yourself nestled in his arms. A soft snore escaped from his lips as he shifted slightly in his sleep, his grip tightening around you. You stirred awake, only to realize where you were—and more importantly, how close you were. Steve’s head was nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

Your cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink as you became acutely aware of the situation. “St-Steve…” you whispered, attempting to wiggle free from his hold.

But Steve, even in his sleep, seemed to have other plans. His grip refused to loosen, and you let out a flustered sigh, realizing he might be more aware than he appeared.

“No…” he murmured softly, his voice low and insistent. “I need you… Y/N.”

His words made your heart skip a beat. It was then you began to piece it all together—the reason for Steve’s frequent visits, his unwavering presence. The realization hit you like a wave: Steve had feelings for you, and somewhere along the way, you had grown feelings for him too.

Though he had always respected your relationship with Billy, there was something undeniable about the connection you shared with Steve. It was a quiet truth you couldn’t ignore—your heart had spoken, and it told you what you’d been too afraid to admit. That feeling of home you thought you’d lost? It was right here.

“Stay with me…” Steve mumbled in his half-asleep state, his words slurring slightly as he pressed a gentle, sleepy kiss to your neck.

Your lips curved into a soft smile as you whispered, “I will…”

“Forever.”

#stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #steve x reader #steve x you #steve x y/n #x reader #x you #steve harrington x you #fluff fanfcition #stranger things season 3 #joey keery #joey keery x reader

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korpuskristae · 4 months ago

Text

Verdict

Warnings: 18+, Smut, public sex, blowjobs, slight femdom, language, mentions of past injuries

Pairing: Fem Reader x Judge Turpin

Word Count: 2600+

Summary: Once Turpin's whore, you find yourself in the position of his wife, although with your new status as Lady Turpin, you find yourself still lacking the manners usually expected of a high-ranking Lady such as yourself. AKA: I had too much fun writing this and got carried away...

AN: I started tweaking at a concert I went to last month because the guy in front of me had long hair and a big nose... I have a type, to say the least... Anyway, I make do with my promises, even if it takes me three whole months. Requests are open, so feel free to drop something in my requests, keep in mind I write at my own discretion. Be wary of spelling and grammar errors! Point them out so I can fix them :) !!

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

In the eyes of Victorian London, Lord Turpin and you, Lady Turpin, were amongst London’s most unusual couples. Your relationship came not long after Richard lost his ward, Beadle, and nearly his life after a brush with Benjamin Barker, a lowly barber he sent away on false charges who miraculously, found his way back even after being sent to Australia to serve out a life sentence of harsh manual labor. Richard emerged from the events, not as the man London had once trusted implicitly, but as a man teetering on the edge of mania, grasping at what little fragments of sanity he had left. Returning to the bench a mere three weeks after his attempted assassination, the subjects of London couldn’t help but notice a change in their infallible judge. Almost every circle in London was whispering about the shift in the judge’s demeanor and it didn’t take long for the doubt of his competency to reach his ears causing his already harsh sentences to become even crueler and unpredictable, casting a further darkening shadow over his once-certain judgment.

Most people expected everything to return to normal once the judge’s attacker had been brought to justice, after all, as a judge of the high court in service to her Majesty the Queen, he reserved the right to convict and sentence whoever dared to cross him, or the law. He was by definition, untouchable… Yet in the case of Sweeney Todd’s attempt on his life, it seemed that Lady Justice had already dealt her hand, taking Todd for herself, depriving the judge of the cruel justice he so desperately desired to feel in control. Spiraling further into a dark path of retribution that bordered on obsessive, Richard was a mere shell of the proud man he once was, seemingly falling further into the clutches of insanity with every passing day.

After being compelled to step back from the bench due to mounting public concern for his mental health and well-being, he was granted a month to rest and recover. One whole month—a dangerous opportunity to ruminate on his unexamined consciousness that Richard was not eager to take. By no means had Richard attempted to fix his wrongdoings, he was a bad man, an unjust, and cruel man who wielded the law as a weapon of his desires. He was a sinner, a liar, and a reprobate. He attended church only to enjoy the company of a whore the very next hour, he knew his life was one big contradiction. And still, he clung to the illusion that as a judge, he stood above the law and public opinion, he was a judge who answered to no one but himself, believing his actions bore no consequence beyond his own scrutiny.

In the wake of Richard’s recovery from the attempt that nearly claimed his life, your relationship, and subsequent marriage, seemed to unfold at lightning speed. The fact that Richard had forsaken many a beautiful, and no doubt rich, highborn lady for you, irked the British aristocracy who were all throwing their daughters at the judge to have even a chance of marrying into the esteemed house of Turpin. It would’ve been one thing if you two were young lovers but your scandalized affair only grew more scandalous as people started to frequently draw attention to the fact that you had, practically, in the eyes of the public, not existed at all, prior to your engagement.

The last woman Richard had shown any interest in was Lucy Barker, but even then, it was public knowledge he merely lusted after her, his longing for her was based not on feelings of love but ones of conquest and control, seeing her as a prize to be won. But his feelings for you seemed to stem from an unknown source… one that was less centered around himself and his personal motives.

In a society that prized status and reputation above all, Richard’s marriage to you, someone deemed “lowly” in the public’s eye, sent shockwaves through the cobbled streets of London. Unshaken by the public’s doubt of his choice of wife, Richard managed to pull out all the stops for your wedding, wasting no expense on the extravagant affair, with nearly every citizen near and far from London clamoring to attend the wedding. As guests observed the warmth in his gaze, they began to piece together a narrative that suggested genuine love that transcended societal boundaries. It wasn’t long before the public, hungry for scandal, sought to uncover the mysterious story behind your unusual romance.

The story given to the public was that you were one of the nursemaids who had so gracefully nursed him to back him to health, lovingly tending to him and eventually falling in love with him. While that story couldn’t be further from the truth, every tall tale had some grain of truth to it, certainly no nursemaid, granted, you did tend to him, in a much more… intimate way than originally specified, you two were indeed a rare occurrence of genuine love. Initially, you were just a contract—an arrangement for the night, a whore, to put it crudely. Once you, rather, he finished, you had noticed him wincing in pain along with the stiff movements of his neck, originally wary of the notoriously foul-tempered judge, you, strangely enough, found yourself hesitating to leave. Despite being expected to leave as soon as you two were finished, you couldn’t just leave him to suffer like that. This man, one who commanded London’s High Court with an iron fist now laid bedridden, his physical wounds matched only by a wounded pride. His growls and biting remarks about you staying to offer him help sounded more like thinly veiled pleas for help, revealing a side of the judge that he himself even resented, one that was weak.

Not even half a year later you were the highly feared and equally esteemed, Lady Turpin. While the fear came from your husband’s reputation, you yourself were quite the opposite of him. Instead of intimidating people to get your way, you often made use of your snarky wit and cleverness, a trait that Richard himself found endearing and discovered proved far more useful from time to time when intimidation wasn’t a viable option.

Seated at his bench, high above the court giving him the illusion of an almost godly appearance, Richard sat, tall and rigid. Dressed in his black robes, the long wig he wore—an obligation of his station—itchingly reminded him of the traditions he had little patience for. Leering at the people entering his courtroom he huffed uninterestedly. While his wife had managed to salvage his sanity and coax a flicker of gentleness from him, she could not penetrate the fortress he built around himself in public. Fixing his posture, he moved only to accidentally bump something underneath his bench with his knee, seeing you, his wife there, he glared at you kneeling between his legs. Smirking up at him with a lustful haze in your eyes, you placed your hands on his knees slowly parting them as you winked at him.

Grumbling, he snarled at you without any real venom behind his words, “What the devil are you doing?”

Currently sat in front of a fully occupied court he had to preside over, you clearly had no sense of decorum when it came to respecting the authority that Richard had, slowly parting his robe at his waist, you placed your hands over his pants, palming his already growing erection. The ruthless judge, so quick to condemn others, quite literally, was nothing more than putty in your mere presence.

“Taking care of my husband, of course, you must be so stressed, huh? All those responsibilities… my dear judge, my poor, poor judge,” you purred softly, your fingers tracing languid circles on his thighs. The heat emanating from his arousal was unmistakable and he was clearly getting impatient but you ignored him for the time being keeping the tension high.

Growling lowly, he narrowed his eyes at you grabbing your hand and placing it on his clothed cock, “Do not play games you little minx, if you want to act like this then carry through with your teasing,” he demanded gruffly.

“Oh, my…” you gasped, feigning shock, “right now? Dare you disrespect the sanctity of this here court?” God you were such a tease, how was he ever expected to behave around you when you acted like this? So clearly reveling in your role as an unrelenting tease… if he was in hell, you were most certainly the demon sent to torture him till the end of his days.

Snarling at you, Richard tangled one of his hands in your hair, a firm grip that asserted control without causing discomfort. “Careful now, love. Keep with that insolent tongue of yours and I'll put it to far better use," he growled with an arch of his perfectly manicured eyebrow, his threat laced with a hint of desire.

Laughing lowly, you slowly dragged your fingers up his inner thighs before reaching his zipper and freeing him from the confines of his awfully tight trousers. Already rock hard, his cock was thicker than your wrist and his tip was an angry red color with a small bead of precum leaking from it, a testament to his undying lust for you. “So impatient and rude… you’re supposed to be a Lord, my love, one with manners who treats ladies with respect,” you chided dramatically not caring to whisper considering the courtroom was still settling in.

“Last time I checked ladies don’t terrorize their husbands multiple times a day for sex,” he grumbled letting out a low sigh of relief, feeling the pressure lessen on his aching cock. Eyeing you, he huffed in amusement as a smirk played at his lips, watching you blink up at him innocently. A little actress you were, one who was anything but what she pretended to be.

Grabbing his cock, you slowly stroked it, watching as his face contorted in pleasure, not explicitly as he was still seated in front of a room full of people, but enough for you to get the satisfaction of seeing him unravel slightly. Exhaling a long drawn out strained sigh, he spoke gruffly, evidently, trying to have some restraint. “What a naughty little thing you are, playing with your husband's cock so brazenly in a courtroom full of people…”

Running your thumb over the tip of his cock, you heard his breathing hitch and felt him cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb over it lovingly. Letting out a small whimper, he felt you take him into your mouth and swirl your hot tongue around the edge of his tip, tasting his salty precum on your tongue, savoring its slight musky taste. “Yes, mhm… just like that my love…” he hissed, his grip on your hair growing tighter as he pushed you down further onto his cock, forcing you to take him deeper.

Letting out a strangled squeak, you glared up at him with a mouthful of his cock as tears pricked your eyes. “Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” he teased slowly bobbing you up and down his girthy shaft.

Hearing the thunderous boom of the courthouse doors opening, Richard glanced up to see the defendant being ushered into the courthouse by a guard from the jail. He barely glanced at the list of accusations before re-establishing his cold, detached expression. As if he wasn’t being serviced by his wife at that very moment.

Richard raised his eyes and immediately the court fell silent, making the usage of his gavel redundant. He struck it lightly for the sake of formality before he cleared his throat, resting his hand atop your head to signal you to stop your ministrations. “You are being charged with petty larceny and the garrotting of several women, what say you in defense of these charges?” he said, his booming voice reverberating through the courtroom, fixing a cold glare at the defendant. How dare he ignore you! Use you for his pleasure and tell you to stop at his own convenience? God, he was way too privileged!

Glaring at him, as you kneeled on the floor, your eyes flashed with anger and defiance, Richard, ever so oblivious didn’t seem to notice the anger radiating from beneath him. Ignoring his wishes for you to halt your movements, you started to bob up and down again, swirling your tongue around his shaft just the way you knew he liked it, feeling him throb against your tongue, you glanced up at him cheekily as he glowered at you. Consequences be damned, you were no convenience, and you certainly weren’t controlled by him!

Barely stifling a moan, Richard’s thighs tensed as he fought to keep his composure. Watching the defendant bow his head in defeat, he heard him profess his guilt, “I plead guilty and ask you for your mercy, your honor.” If he didn’t have a little minx between his legs he’d sneer at the fool in front of him for even thinking he’d be merciful.

Feeling you take him deeper, he watched as your hand reached up to wrap around the base of his shaft to pump what you couldn't fit in your mouth, with his breathing growing ragged, he only hoped that nobody could see his very obviously flustered state. His grip on your hair only grew tighter as he tensed further, his muscles pulled taut as he felt his orgasm approach rapidly.

Realizing the entire courtroom was awaiting his verdict, he coughed, trying to cover up any of the obvious hints of his arousal, “The jury will deliberate and your fate will be announced at a later court date, this court is adjourned.” He said banging his gavel before watching everyone file out of the courthouse in confusion.

The Esteemed Juge Turpin, widely revered and equally feared, had rarely relied on a jury—his rulings were law, laws he often wrote without deliberation. Murmurs filled the courtroom as the gallery began to question whether or not even Richard was second-guessing himself. The reason behind his stalling was, in truth, much simpler than what they suspected. Richard was merely just a pawn in his wife’s new uptaking of mischief and suffering the consequences.

After everyone filed out and left, Richard’s head fell back against his chair as you continued to suck him off. “You are so dead-” he groaned, not even able to finish his snarky comment as he felt his cock throb with his impending orgasm. With a strangled gasp and a deep guttural groan, Richard’s hips bucked into you as he came hard, his seed spilling down your throat in thick, hot, spurts that even you struggled to keep up with. After his orgasm subsided, you released his cock with a wet pop, the sound reverberating through the empty courtroom.

Slumping back against his chair, you watched with a satisfied smile as he struggled to catch his breath, his chest heaving. Tucking him back into his pants, you heard him hiss, his cock was incredibly oversensitive after that mindblowing orgasm no doubt. Standing up, you dusted off your dress, looking at him with a wicked smirk, “Hmph, what was that love?”

Sneering at you with half-lidded eyes, Richard huffed, unable to punish you for the time being, “Your arse is going to be so red when I get my hands on you,” he rasped out, watching you saunter away. He was so going to get you back tenfold, despite his mostly playful annoyance, deep down, he couldn’t deny the obvious satisfaction he got from surrendering his control to you…

AN: First time writing smut, how'd I do? ;)

#judge turpin #turpin #sweeney todd #alan rickman fanfic #alan rickman #turpin fanfic #If you were that hot guy at the rob zombie concert PLEASE CALL ME #jk jk jk jk jk #or not....#Turpin smut

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