#i have more ideas for this i just wanted to finally put this out

[tonycries]

FEVER FEVER FEVER

Synopsis. Sèx pollen - it’s never felt so good.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, sèx pollen, PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, creampíes, bréeding, making them whímper, oraI (fem), true form Sukuna, Sukuna’s two mouths, ínappropríate use of jujutsu, 7:3 technique, GOJO’S POWERS, matíng presses, overstím, bóndage, first times (Choso), losing control, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Can you guess the title reference heheh?

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - WICKED!

Toji Fushiguro swears he isn’t affected - he swears that stupid, stray technique didn’t actually hit him when finishing off today’s job.

After all, it’s not like he’s some weak, pathetically needy-

“Please, doll.” Toji gasps - he heaves - hot and heavy between your pretty legs. Letting his roughened tongue slide its pathway across that perky scar sitting right on the edge of his white-glossed lip, re-tasting you. Himself. And he can feel the way his overworked tip twitches at that cute wide-eyed gaze of yours, mouth dropping at him begging. “Don’t make me ah- say any of that s-stupid stuff again.”

You huff out a low bout of teasing laughter that makes him flinch, “Hmm, but I don’t think I heard you properly, baby?”

God, he wished he couldn’t smell your sweet saccharine scent fogging up his mind, he wished the mere sound of your honeyed tone didn’t have him gushing out in another sweltering hot wave. Growling, “W-when this is over I swear—”

“Time’s ticking…”

Damn.

“P-please-” The word comes out strangled - pained. “Can I p-put it back inside, ma?”

It’s a beg - a plea.

One that has Toji’s ears flushing an angry red, and his eyes looking up at you tearily in a way that uttered he’d die right now if he didn’t get another taste of your heavenly cunt.

You can barely even start to let your head shake with a nod before a choked-up groan bursts from Toji’s wobbly lips. And he’s flipping you over with one simple push of his large, strong arms attached roughly onto your hips. Pushing your pliantly face into the soft, silken pillows on all fours like he couldn’t bear hearing any more of those sweet sounds of yours. For the sake of his sanity. 

“Yes-” he gasps, digits curling around his thick hilt to guide them into a pretty peck against your cunt. “Yes yes yes yes- finally- ah finally-”

He’s drooling. Still so greedy even after hours now. 

Swollen cock so rawly red and angry, he’s splattering out freshly translucent swashes of precum against your puckered hole. Creamy and drizzled with rings of cum from just before that he hadn’t been able to lap up mere moments earlier. 

Toji couldn’t get enough- he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t think it’s even physically possible. 

“Can’t believe what ya d-do to me-” His words are hushed, unsteady - like they were on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. Pressing a lingering trail of kisses down your arched spine, he gulps in your heady pheromones. “-oh, s’not even that fucking p-pollen, ya have no fuckin’ idea.” 

But ah he gets even harder at your scent. Shuddering out a heavy groan, every powerful limb of Toji’s utterly loosening at the way your toasty cunt was hugging him so tightly all over again. You’re being massaged against his mouth-watering abs when he pushes even further in-

“Where the fuck do you think you’re g-going, huh?”

It takes you a few cockdrunken seconds to realize that this is Toji talking to you - deep baritone a few octaves higher, cracking ever-so-slightly at the end in a way you’d never even imagined before. And a few more to recognize that you’d been clawing at the rickety headboard, jittery hips sneaking mere inches away from his ruthless size. 

You’re gasping, letting go immediately. “I-I didn’t mean- you’re just so big, Toji.”

And, truly, he was. 

There’s so much of him.

You didn’t know whether it was the sex pollen that had him fitting out the snug inches of his girth so massively bigger than usual. Strawberry tip red and painting your puffy pussy lips to be dripping wet, it seemed like just the tiniest piston has his rotund head spreading open your taut insides. 

Has Toji’s head reeling. Has him getting angry at the slightly melty recoil that had his bawling tip parting from your insides for a split-second. 

Addicted. 

But this makes Toji hiss, it makes his strong arms wrap around your waist in a vice-like bodylock. Eyes crinkling with watery beads of tears, he catches your lips in a filthy, filthy kiss. “No- don’t fuckin- you can fucking take it- want it- need it, ma, please- think m’gonna die without ya-”

Gripping harshly onto your hips to slam into the very depths of your pussy, he’s feeding your sopping slit with every his girthy inch. All the way until his hefty balls kiss wetly up against your ass. 

THUD!

“Oh shit-” your voice quivers, eyeing the sagging end of the bed. “Toji, you broke the-”

But that didn’t matter to Toji. Why would it?

SLAM!

In fact, it’s the fucking last thing he could think about before swiftly maneuvering your body to press against the fucking floor with a strained gruff. 

And in a split-second, something muscular and weighty is being pressed onto the back of your head. You gasp when you realize that it’s Toji’s foot, angling his gyrating hips perfectly right to swipe an oozing glide of wispy precum down your battered g-spot. 

He’s panting - heaving out, “Heh, s-spread ‘em-” Frantically kneeing apart your limp legs wider, “oh, yeah tha’s it. Shhh sh sh-” You didn’t know whether Toji was trying to soothe you or his greedy self. “Take this f-fuckin’ cock f’me, alright?”

Splaying out one palm midway down your stomach to massage and feel for his riotous nudge, exactly where he could feel himself ramming in for the nth time. Over and over- 

Hmm…maybe this sex pollen wasn’t too bad. 

“W-what?” You’re whirling your bleary gaze over your shoulder to sputter and Toji registers that his drunken mouth has accidentally babbled out loud. 

But the only response you mercifully get is Toji spooning his fingers down to swirl over your neglected clit. A sleazy grin smearing all over his face at the way his thick digits slip and slide from how coated your sensitive nub was with his seed. 

“M’jus’ s-sayin, ma-” he grins, and you feel his tight, cum-filled balls thwack! thwack! thwack! against your overstuffed cunt even harder. More wickedly. “This sex pollen’s making me a bit…hungry again.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 7:3

“M-my love-” Nanami hisses through a wince at the way his rich baritone was breaking pathetically - hoarse, choked-up. He’s never felt this way. Never. “J-jus’ one more?”

Never been so greedy. So horny.

Like he’d die if he doesn’t paint your pretty pussy white.

And if the way your husband had you folded into a mean mess of a mating press wasn’t enough to agree, he’s planting a pretty peck right against the battered bullseye of your g-spot with his swollen tip. Hard. 

The spongy cushion making him collapse onto his elbows with a groan, repeating his same, syrupy mantra. “Please o-one more-”

Nanami’s stamina was incredible by itself but now?

Now it had you blinking back your sobbing tears, swiping away the sweat-dampened strands of blond from his face with a trembly hand, “Only one more?”

Oh, Nanami’s voice opens to agree, his lips crack open to repeat them- those words barely babbling out of his loose mouth before your clingy walls suddenly give him a tempting squeeze. And any and all rational thought is sucked thoroughly out of him-

“I-I don’t know-” he’s breathing out, letting his head fall into the safety of the crook of your neck. Hips still stuttering forwards to spearhead into your gummy depths. Mindlessly. He could feel the drippingly wet slosh of his cum coating his shaft. Drinking in your sweet, sweet scent, “Don’t- don’t know why this is happening. Don’t know if it’s ‘nough- don’t hngh- know if it’ll ever be. J-jus’ want you a pretty m-momma, darling.”

And it’s all that he’s been thinking about for the whole day now.

Right from the very second he’d been hit with a special grade technique during a mission, to the moment that Nanami had stormed up to your apartment and taken you right then and there on the living room floor.

Hours ago.

“P-please-” 

Nanami doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, but it’s just about all that he can sputter out like a little prayer. 

However, you do, apparently. Flashing him a cockdrunken smile that makes his breath hitch, and his tip bawl out a new velvety wave of precum that splatters against the ends of your cervix. You hum, “Mhm- o-one more, Ken–”

Immediately being shut up by a sudden slam! into your sweetest spots, he’s rutting in so deep, so thoroughly that you’re left deliriously wondering whether the circumference of his girth would be left indented onto your melty walls. Again. And again and again and- shit, was he using his jujutsu?

Was he even in control?

“Can’t stop- can’t stop can’t stop- I-it’s like-” Jackhammering pound after angry pound so hard that you’re being pushed further and further up the floor. “You’re too good to me- no!” he cries, accidentally sliding out from between your glossy folds to smack! smack! smack! his furiously reddened cock down the splatters of seed that drip down from your slit. Twitching until he bullies back in- “-promise m’gonna m-make it up to ya- hah- promise m’not gonna miss.”

And then he’s letting your unsteady fingers clutch tightly around the silky fabric of that yellow, speckled work tie that he hadn’t even bothered removing. “H-hold onto this- hold- in case I get too…” 

“Ken-” you hiss, feeling the cold circumference of Nanami’s wedding ring prod at your clit. So full you have the distinct thought that you could almost explode. “M’not s-sure if it’ll fit though-”

But Nanami didn’t want that - couldn’t even bear the thought-

“W-won’t fit?” Nanami shudders, eyes wide. “It won’t…won’t fit?” 

Sounding so devastated. 

Cracking a low whine at the very back of his throat when he immediately flinches away - spreading out his rounded fingers across your stomach to press. He coats his warm cock with a sudden gleam of cum eagerly, “S’this o-okay now? Will- will it fit, my love?”

And it’s so, so filthy.

You’re mewling like such a slut, “Yes- yes yes yes yes- m-more-”

Nanami was practically burning up, heaving for air. His feverish pleas panting out condensely against your face. 

“Gonna fill this ngh- cute cunt up until she’s overspilling.” Rummaging his dick inside your gooey cunt dangerously accurately, grazing up the thumping pace of his veins down the crevices of all your sensitive spots. Even hidden ones. “Have you all round and ah- glowing with my kid.” Uncharacteristically leaving a sodden swat! at your plump clit to watch your gush out in another creamy ring. “Can’t rest- can’t fuckin’ stop until I do. Feels like m’burning.”

Your fingers wrap even more desperately around his tie, pulling - hauling.

Yes, he gulps. This is what he wanted - what he needed. What the pollen was begging him for. 

His lips leer down to glissade wetly across your own, not even a kiss because he could barely even manage one. Unable to even raise his droopy eyes to meet your stare, “-hah- what do you want- t-tell me what you want, my wife.”

Your own lips quiver. “I-I want two babies, Ken-”

Oh. 

Oh, fuck. 

When Nanami was out of control, he was unrecognizable. 

Hips slamming against yours in a few more sloppy strokes, before filling up every empty space with hot pumps of his seed. Voluminous. It’s spurting against your walls with a wet thwack! and not even your hand around his tie makes him slow down.

The air crackles with a few more sparks of jujutsu - except Nanami couldn’t control it. Couldn’t grasp the way even with his technique, he was so drunk on your pussy that his cock was just barely drawing wet glides of cum down your g-spot. Almost missing. 

Making him malfunction his cursed technique. 

Yet, the only thing you can register is when your own orgasm hits, white-hot tingles flashing down your spine. Toes curling, pulse thundering so loudly in your ears that you almost miss-

“O-one…just one more, my love?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - (Un)affected

“I don’t…I don’t-”

Now, Geto Suguru had absolutely zero idea what he was about to babble away - maybe that he wasn’t affected by that sex pollen curse he’d swallowed, maybe that he wasn’t losing a slight bit of his sanity with every feverish drag of his fingers down his painfully hard cock.

“-don’t need anythin’ but your hngh- pretty face, gorgeous. Help out your leader, would ya?”

And oh, you looked like such a dream below him - with your glassy eyes blinking up at him, tongue darted out so obscenely to catch the stray splatters of his aphrodisiac-like precum. Pearly, winking beads that drip! drip! drip! down his visibly throbbing length. 

His beautiful second-in-command.

And he was so ruined. 

Sounding so pathetic when he whispers, scared at the way he knew his words would crack pathetically at the very end. “B-bring yerself closer, no need to be hah- shy- let me- let me…please.”

But he looked so pretty above you.

Splayed out in such a messy way on the throne for the association leader, dark brows knitted, sweat trickling in glistening rivulets down his forehead. Strands of Geto’s long, dark hair stick to his forehead when he smacks your pouty lips with his angry cock until they’re rubbed raw. 

“Wan’ you to cum, Sugu–” you’re batting your lashes in a way that makes his swollen cock twitch in his hands. Smearing your palms up and down the creamy skin of his muscular, manspread thighs, “-cum on my face, please?”

Fuck, he was so unfairly sensitive right now that just the singular gust of your words hitting his cock made Geto’s abs ripple. Make his entire body wrack with shudder after shudder as his weepy tip spits out a translucent few beads of precum. 

“S-such a naughty mouth.” he’s hissing, trying for the life of him to not act like the simplest glide of your palms had Geto fighting back his high already. “Better be ah- careful. Can’t talk like that n’ not end up s-stuffed full, honey–”

It’s a warning. 

For both of you.

Geto’s finding his roughened digits fly down faster and faster his length, squeezing ever-so-slightly harder near his mushroom slit.

You whine, “But I want that, Sugu.”

You little minx. You evil, evil little-

And he can’t fucking stop the way his hefty balls clench - painfully, obscenely, sluttily in a way that has the pinkish divot at the very end of his cock spurt out in a ribbon of steaming hot seed.

You’re closing your eyes, waiting for more- but Geto has other plans. 

Plans that have him swiping over the thick pad of his thumb to press down hard at the very ruby head of his erection, choking back a slew of swears when he wavers off his orgasm for just a second. Just long enough to drag you upwards with one free hand attaching to your waist. 

Up, up, up-

“Sit on m-my cock, gorgeous-” he’s spitting, wet and panted against your lips. Dizzying. You gasp at the sodden drag of Geto’s bawling tip down your pre-soaked pussy lips, meshing in a wet, wet French kiss. “-c’mon. Ride me. Ride me please- m’burning up.”

And it was the only opportunity you’d get to hear the dangerous Geto Suguru whine, to see him blink his long, teary lashes up at you when you sink your drooling cunt down his girth just an inch. 

He was so warm splitting you open. 

So steaming hot when your tight pussy floods with string wads of cum, such a mind-numbing orgasm that Geto can feel it before he even registers it. One that has his toes curling, his arms locking around your waist to fuck up into you like he hates you. 

“D-don’t get it twisted m’early because of the ah- p-pollen.” he groans, back muscles flexing with every perfect curved arch upwards into your greedy hips. The wet thwack! of skin-on-skin resounds throughout the tatami room and makes Geto drool. Unable to even spell out coherent sentences right now - well, not until he feels your sloppy hips slow down just a tad.

“Sugu- m’tired.”

Truly, his stamina was too much. 

Swat! His fingers leave branding little imprints, before roughly attaching to pinch your pulsing clit, “Work on it, gorgeous- tha’s an order. Because m’not hngh- anywhere near done. Jus’ milk me- milk me dry…oh, yeah let that pretty pussy have her fun-” 

“O-oh fuck fuck fuck-” You clutch precariously at the mahogany woodwork of his chair, thighs aching with the sheer effort to try and bounce your drippingly wet pussy down onto his rudely jostling cock. “-there’s so much- ah- can feel it drippin’ down my thighs-”

“Sh-shut up.” Geto’s managing to get out through grit teeth, planting another unabashed smack on your cunt simply to prove his point. Begging, “God, please- mercy-”

Because your honeyed tone is so sweet, your words so filthy that they have him spurting out a few more fatigued rivers of cum. 

Rasping out the tiniest of whimpers with each of your damp bounces, he makes you work. “O-open that mouth.” And you listen - of course, you do - letting those pretty, spit-glossed lips fall open into a soft ah! All so perfect for him to spit- the taste makes you hot. Burning, like an aphrodisiac. And now you’re feeling dizzy. “Bein’ way too talkative f-for a ngh- second-in-command. Aren’t ya?”

And obviously you don’t point out the slight drizzle of drool that makes its way down the corner of his coral pink lips, obviously you don’t point out just how hot and heavy he was swirling lewdly inside your walls. Stretching you out to the max - still so hard despite cumming for the nth time already.

No, instead, you smile drunkenly. “Why? D-does it affect you, sir?”

Smack!

“Sh-shut up n’ keep riding me, gorgeous.” And you could’ve sworn that Geto’s voice broke.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Bed chem.

Choso was ruined. Absolutely fucked out…and he was so pathetically embarrassed about it. 

Unable to wrangle the teary ah! ah! ah! ripping from the very depths of his throat every time your drenched cunt was dragging down his sensitive shaft. Still clothed, still glissading along his thumping veins teasingly - but he felt like he could cum already. 

“P-please, baby-” The thick pads of his jittery fingers find their way to the edges of your soaked underwear, hooking inside ever-so-slightly - and the tiniest sneak peek of your puffy pussy lips makes him gulp. “-please I feel like m’gonna hah- die without ya.”

“But, Cho—” And that nickname in your sweetened tone is enough for him to buck right off the silken sheets. “-how am I supposed to help you with the pollen, otherwise? M’jus’ being a good friend.”

You wanted him to say it.

You wanted your best friend to beg.

“I-I…”

And oh, he trails off - because you’re helping him slide your sticky panties just enough down your thighs. Flashing him such a dangerous smile right as you watch Choso’s mouth drop, dark brows scrunching together when he heaves out a moan.

“I d-don’t know, baby- I don’t- I don’t know-” And he felt like he was burning, he felt his melty mind getting dizzier by the minute as your slobbering cunt drags in determined gyrations against him faster. Swollen folds spreading to coat the pattern of his throbbing veins in a gleaming sheen. Humping so ferally. “B-but you smell so good and f-feel so oh- all I want is…” 

You don’t get to hear the rest of his sentence. 

Within a split-second, your panties are left in tiny tatters for him to breathe in. Filthily.

Drinking in his fill before he has one pinning both your wrists behind your back. The other plugging into your cunt to circle a slow swivel enough for him to bully inside-

Heaven. He was in heaven. 

“This. This is what it oh- feels like? This is a-all I want-” he’s hiccuping, voice breaking into such a pretty whine every time his raw cock is tapping against the softest areas of your gummy walls. “-to fuck my p-pretty best friend. All I’ve ever wanted- S’my first ngh- time, y’know?”

You’re fluttering your eyes back open to bore down at Choso’s fucked-out expression. “S’your first time? Wh-why didn’t you ah- tell me, Cho?”

And maybe because he was embarrassed, maybe because all it takes is a single clench of your saturated cunt around his girthy shaft for him to shoot out a few wisps of cum. Half-orgasming already. 

But Choso only plants his powerful thighs flat on the mattress to pressurize his slow drills upwards.

Tentative, almost. As if he wasn’t utterly rummaging your insides, poking at your glossy cervix with sopping wet glides of his fat cock, stretching out your taut channel to massage spots you didn’t even know existed. 

The pollen had him greedier than ever. 

“Mhmm– because th-there’s no one else f’me.” His lower lip wobbles cutely, dewy eyes drooping to an almost closed state with every drag of his cock down your elastic walls. Filthy. Feverish. “S’jus’ for a bit- just- hah- just for the pollen, remember?”

Oh, right. You’re shuffling your hands precariously onto Choso’s bulging pecs to determine your grinds even more thoroughly. Pound after pound that left your ass stinging with impact. It was so hypnotic that you’d almost forgotten about the entire reason you were…helping in the first place. 

You fingers bully between his plump lips, muttering, “Open f’me, Cho?”

And of course Choso would do anything you command in a heartbeat. Anything. The only thing on his mind when he lets his mouth fall slack - just in time for your syrupy stream of spit. Hitting right onto the middle of his tastebuds, swallowing. 

So heady that he half-wonders whether you were the cause of the sex pollen itself. 

Holding back a few strained pleas for mercy, he’s placing a wet line of pecks down the side of your teary cheeks- shit, when did you even start crying? Choso can’t help but let his pinkish tongue loll out to lick a languid stripe up those salty dredges, groaning. 

“Just for the p-pollen and…”

“And what?” you’re crying out, feeling one set of his ringed fingers curl deftly around the nub of your clit. Swiping a wet drag of his rotund pads down the very sensitive edges of the hood, it makes your thighs shiver down even faster to meet Choso’s addicted pace. 

“And then…”

In a split-second, you’re being flipped over so meanly. Splayed out like such a slut on the plush mattress when Choso drags your limp legs up onto the curves of his deltoids, abs flexing and rubbing up against your ass when he folds in half down, down, down into the meanest mating press you’ve never thought possible. 

Choso’s gleamingly sharp canines sink into your ear lobe, breath feverishly hot against your ear. In fact, all of him was absolutely burning right now. Heaving. “-then m’gonna hngh- marry you.” Spitting into your open mouth - broken. Desperate. “F-fuck the talking stage, fuck dating- m’gonna wife you up.” You feel his hips get sloppier and sloppier, spearheading Choso’s fat cock to the very bruised bottom of your pussy. “Shit- gonna propose. Be my wife- the mother of my kids. Breed this cunt- Let me please- ngh- please by my wife.”

Maybe it was the sex pollen that had him babbling so much, maybe it was you.

But either way - Choso doesn’t care. He doesn’t give a shit when you’re opening your lips enough to mumble, “I-I do- Cho.”

His best friend. Enough to make him rut up into you wildly like an animal. Clashing his wet tip over and over in sopping slides down your g-spot. Again. And again and-

And the only answer is Choso’s whimper, “A-and please…can your h-husband cum inside, baby?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Mouthy?!

Sukuna’s hooking two of his fingers into the corner of his mouth - his other mouth. A wide, ravenous smile. Larger, greedier, positioned right underneath your shamefully spread cunt. “Move that damn hand before I hafta do it myself, woman.”

And oh he sounded so impatient - so utterly strained like just a few seconds longer would have Ryomen Sukuna rampaging. 

Your entire body burns with embarrassment, jittery legs almost coming to a close at the feverish pant of his second mouth. Drooling, ravenously condensing out little droplets of saliva that splatter onto your quivering hole like a blank canvas. 

“B-but are you sure, Kuna?” you’re whimpering, biting back tiny gasps at the way his tongue drags its sodden taste-buds along where you were straddling him with your sheeny inner thighs. Face sitting but…not quite. “Y-you’re that needy?”

Oh.

Oh, you should’ve known better than to accuse the infamous King of Curses of being needy - no matter how utterly true it was right about now. 

Sukuna didn’t know what potion Uraume had accidentally knocked into his last meal, but it had him so ruined. He couldn’t even breathe without all the blood in his towering body rushing straight into his painfully swollen cocks, couldn’t even think without feeling like his veins were boiling with the sudden greed to taste you.

Because Sukuna might have had his meal…but he was still starving. In a way he didn’t even know before rolling his tongue past your glossy folds. 

And he was chuckling out a dangerous bout of rumbling laughter that makes your lower lip wobble, “Don’t fuckin’ call me n-needy. M’jus-” Addicted? Hypnotized? Battling with the feeling that he’ll die without your pretty pussy? Deep voice petering out when he couldn’t even begin to justify the way that Sukuna was dragging his lolling tongue down your sodden folds, twirling the very pointed tip over the hood of your clit. “-fuck- I don’t need to give you an explanation, p-puny human. Just ride me.”

That’s all the answer you’re getting before he hunches over - long tongue tunneling even deeper around your melty walls and Sukuna was drooling. Smacking many, many wet kisses.

He’s throwing his head back into the decadently royal pillows with a slight, cracking whimper at the sweet, sweet taste of you on his tongue. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. Swivelling wetly so that every single bead of your juices drip its silky way into his widely opened mouth. “Jus’ need a taste- just one taste.”

Your juices were like nectar, making the pollen rush.

“C-can you even taste like this, Kuna–?” your voice comes out in tiny whines. Positioning your shivery hands on either side of his shoulders to steady your legs - it just felt so unbearably good. 

Swat! 

And even with his thick, calloused fingertips, it felt like Sukuna was putting in twice the strength to plant a branding smack onto the curve of your jiggling ass. “Silly girl, of course I can taste this pretty cunt of yours-” Smoothing over the raised digits, and bearing you with such a sleazy grin. “-askin’ soo many q-questions, huh?” 

“But-”

Smack! 

“Shh, why don’t we let her speak for a second, now- hm?”

Silencing down his own grunts until all that resounds in the chamber are those sloshing squelches of your cunt dragging back and forth Sukuna’s monstrous tongue. The sounds of his wet muscle gyrating in and out hotly - it was almost burning. 

“Heh, real talkative this one is, too.” he’s snickering. Two of his arms attaching roughly onto your trembly hips, and a third covering your sagging mouth. “-why dontcha hngh- play with this pretty cunt of yours a lil’, brat? Make her all nice n’ even wetter f’me to taste?”

And it’s all you can do to dance one hand down to run over your poorly neglected clit, toying with that nub just the way you liked - and the way Sukuna liked, too. If the way his mouth - both his mouths - were smiling told you anything.

Yet, he wanted more.

“Fuck- fuck, wait.” And Sukuna smacks! away your hand with his free one - he couldn’t even last a few minutes with anyone other than himself staking a slutty claim on your cunt. “Let- let me.” Every roll of his tongue goes hand-in-hand with the meanest little drag of his fat thumb down your clit. At your surprised yelp, “Shut up and ride it.”

You’re clenching your teeth, bouncing your thighs up and down to glissade a ride everywhere from the ridges of Sukuna’s defined abs to the edges of his slurping tongue. 

“Heheh yeah-” he’s giggling - giggling. Drunk on you and your ravenous hips, you were moving against him so filthy at this point and he almost feels himself - the king of curses - blush. Head lolling backwards but eyeing down to watch how spearheaded you were on his tongue, surging in and out in wet sloshes to fuck your pretty cunt open on him. “Clenchin’ around me so tight- looks like you’re gonna cum, hm?”

“I-I am…so close, Kuna-”

“Don’ needa tell me- this cunt is speaking ‘nough for the both of ya. Right about-” Your eyes spark with sudden stars as he leaves another sudden smack! on your ass, your clit, and then one on your thigh. Before pulling- hauling- “-now.”

And the very moment you feel that build-up within your stomach snap - gushing out in wet wave after wave of your orgasm. All you can do is grab on helplessly to the- the headboard?

Blinking open your bleary eyes to realize that you were sitting on Sukuna’s mouth. His actual mouth. Cracked wide open for him to lap up every single bead and splatter of your squirting.

Such a filthy mess.

“There we go-” he’s groaning, eyes falling half-lidded. And through the corner of your eye, you catch the way his second mouth licks its lips devilishly. “-now I’m almost full.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - “D-do you hate me?”

“What?” you’re blinking down at your dear boyfriend. “Of course not, Toru-”

“Then, y-you really think this will hold me back, sweetheart?”

The words are barely out of Gojo’s mouth before he already knows that they’re bluffs, already knows that the strongest is powerless against those thick black blindfolds restraining his wrists to the bedposts - and you. 

You, you, you-

With your trembly legs straddling his lap, hovering your cunt just above his strawberry blushed head so deliciously. Your sodden pussy lips slobbering all the way down his length in a way that Gojo finds dizzying. He just can’t help but tug-

“Now now, I said no pulling.” Your honeyed tone makes his fat tip twitch despite the way it was dripping with a filthy warning. “Jus’ the tip, Toru. Remember?”

Right…not. 

“Yes yes yes yes-” Gojo gasps wetly, feet planting on either side of the mattress to buck up and push. To smear a pretty peck right past your folds and against that tight ring of muscle, hot. And, shit, maybe it was that fucking pollen but Gojo whimpers, how he wished he could touch you. “-jus’ the tip. The tip hngh- please jus’ take me I don’t even c-care.”

But he did.

Oh, how much Gojo cared ever since he’d let himself be hit by that weak sex pollen jujutsu as a joke. 

Never expecting to end up babbling thoroughly pussydrunkenly like this, to have his twitchy cock sinking in a mere inch into your melty walls and feeling like he was about to burst. 

“You say that but this is way more than ‘just the tip’, Toru–”

And Gojo can’t help but look, to snap his teary eyes downwards and drink in the way your puffed-up pussy lips were bulging all around his thick cock. Just barely past his sensitive slit, he could catch that thumping pulse at your cunt like you wanted to milk something delicious. 

“A-are ya sure, pretty?” he’s snickering, gripping on tightly to use the lewd leverage of his ties to rut up, up, up- “Doesn’t l-look like hngh- s’enough to me.”

Shit.

He can’t help the way his prattling mouth sags open when your tight cunt swallows up another greedy inch. And if any of you two had been in a slightly less delirious state of mind, then you’d have noticed the way the dim bedroom lighting flickers, the way your bed shifts. 

Keening at the slight thickening where his hilt was fatter, spearheading your taut pussy so open. It’s like his prominent veins were throb throb throbbing to massage forbidden sweet spots that you didn’t even know existed. 

You’re taking a few sloppy seconds to find your voice, gathering up every shred of will in your body to make sure it doesn’t break. “D-don’t act like you’re hah- forgiven for g-getting yourself into this mess, baby-”

Ah, Gojo practically purrs underneath you. “Jus’ feel like m’gonna d-die without ya-” Bed creaking when he riotously thrusts upwards to match your tantalizing pace with a much sloppier one of his own. That smack-on-smack after every pound music to his ears - but not enough. “But, if you let m-me outta these ngh– ties then maybe I could-”

“Toru…”

Oh, he was in trouble.

But that angry scoff on your pretty features only had Gojo moaning, gulping in desperate heavals of your scented pheromones. Dizzying. 

“Satoru.”

Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, Gojo was out of control. 

Head throwing back at your voice, lips gasping. Furiously ramming upwards into you with every ounce of strength he had - and Gojo could feel his limbs weaken, his bones ache with fatigue but he needed more. 

Maybe it was the pollen, probably it was him.

Burning for it.

“Aww don’ be like that. J-just the tip- just the tip-” he’s hiccuping out, eyes rearing almost half-closed. Sweat drips down the middle of his spine, your slick smears down in a wet gush onto his tufts of white when your pussy lips kiss his toned pelvis. Way past the tip but Gojo couldn’t stop- “-a little more-” Pushing mindlessly deeper, “-the tip- fuck you can take it- jus ah-” Wouldn’t stop. Can’t stop.

“Toru-” your words pitch into something pathetically whiny now. “-m’so close…”

He already knew

Of course, he already knew. His six eyes could catch that extra wad of drool coating your inner walls, the way your rapid pulse was probing even louder against his overwhelmed cock. Almost painfully. 

“Mhm– I know I know-” he gasps, ripping out a guttural moan when you’re craning over your pretty self to lick a path down the side of that sliver of drool at his mouth. “-cum f’me then- cum- hngh- cum on my cock, please?”

“I should hah- leave you right now, for lying about j-just the tip.”

But who was Gojo Satoru against you?

The slight threat only just leaves your glossed lips before he feels a stubborn pricking behind his eyes. Fuck, what a spectacle this would be to anyone right now. Big, bulbous tears crinkling down the side of his cheeks, Gojo bats his wet lashes innocently up at you. “Please?”

And with a shudder, you’re cumming - crashing headfirst into your orgasm. 

Fuck, you’re wondering whether this curse was contagious with how strong those waves of your high are. Peak after peak and only much, much later do you realize that Gojo’s already ripped straight through his restraints.

Left as mere tatters by the pillow when he latches on roughly to your waist and pounds up his drilling rams, over and over to target your poor, bruised g-spot. Fucking you through your high, vision swimming, lights exploding- 

And Gojo doesn’t even realize he’s cumming until he’s managing to crack his glowing eyes open to bore down at the milky ring of white painting around his thick hilt. Gasping in wonderment, he’s running a singular digit down the glossy puddle - before popping it into his mouth. Sucking. 

“Sweetheart…would you h-hate me if I said I’m ah- still feeling the sex pollen?”

“...”

A/N. Hope you lovelies have a great dayyyy <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[hetrosjistin]

I've been mulling over something actionable about this because I am -really- worried that folks on this site, famous for it's lack of reading comprehension, will take what I'm saying as a #NotAllMen statement, which is not my intention here.

This is what I came up with:

I think something I want to add here is that this doesn't mean not talking about how women have to act as if any given random strange man is a threat. That's not the same thing as hating on men for being men.

It's important that young men, boys understand that bad actors among men in general. and especially the systemic expectations of toxic masculinity in particular, force women to take actions to protect themselves. It's important they understand that such actions are not directly aimed at them. It's important that they know this so that they can understand how the patriarchy does harm to THEM TOO in this manner, by preventing and harming their ability to form healthy relationships with the opposite gender. And important because in learning about these things they can TAKE conscious actions to change their behavior (example: I'm a short guy, and I got into the habit of finding ways to increase my height when arguing with some one, get them to sit down while I stood, sit on the table while they sit on a chair, etc, to loom at them both to make them take me even a little more seriously in my own head, and let's be honest, as a machismo intimidation tactic. When I finally realized how toxic that was, how it was percieved as taking a stance of physical threat against women, and how I did not WANT to do that, I worked on changing my behavior. When I'm in a argument I -try- to force myself to sit down and put myself in as non threatening a stance as possible)

But that's not the same as misandry. It's not born from the same place as someone saying 'all heterosexual sex is rape' or 'god damn I hate men' and similar things.

I hope I'm coming across as coherent here x-x

Because one of the reblogs of OPs post that I saw said something like 'it's inevitable, he WILL become a rape apologist and agent of the patriarchy, there's nothing you can do!' and that's just.

What's even the fucking point?

Why even do ANYTHING if this is an inevitability?

Why are we even FIGHTING for feminism in this case? Because obviously if you believe that then you believe everything we do is fruitless and pointless, men are biologically and socially determined to become rapists.

It is the most cynical and fucked up thing imaginable. It's every bit as fucked up as the idea that women are naturally determined to be best suited to be barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen. It means the struggle we are all engaged in for equality and liberation is pointless.

And I refuse to believe that.

I know I have fucked up shit about myself from the patriarchy. But I have to believe that I can deprogram that and change myself over time as it is revealed to me by introspection and other's actions and words to me.

We can't act like this shit is deterministic because that tears out he very heart of our cause: That we CHOOSE to be who we are, that our chromosomes decide nothing except the shape we are born into, not how we act or the way we treat one another.

And so, we must make the DIALOGUE be about people's ACTIONS and NOT the things they cannot change about themselves.

Y'all have got to stop virulently hating men. Like, I'm sorry, I fucking hate the patriarchy too, but the patriarchy isn't just men and saying it is just exculpates complicit women. I am the mother of a young boy, and I look at this precious, empathetic 8 year old boy I'm raising and I don't know where online is safe for him. Places like this will say he's evil just for his gender, and other places will say "we'll be your friend if you hate with us," and still others will radicalize him in other ways. Where is he supposed to go? Why are we saying the radicalization is the fault of the kids just trying to find a place to hang?

Like this is seriously getting urgent. You have got to fucking stop conflating the patriarchy and men. 53% percent of white women voted for Trump. Men aren't the problem. White supremacy and Christian patriarchal structures are two examples of patriarchy-reinforcing structures that aren't solely couched in maleness. Men aren't the problem, and pretending they are drives more men into more welcoming extremist spaces and also ignores all the parts of this that are forwarded by people who aren't men.

What I see happening all over is scared, depressed, lonely people looking for someone they're allowed to hate automatically, unquestioningly - someone they're allowed to place all the blame on. Fascism says people of color, non-Christian people, queer people, etc., are the ones they're allowed to hate.

And way too many of yall answer that no, it's leftist to hate men instead. You are doing *the exact same thing they are.*

Fucking knock it off.

The answer is we're not supposed to hate anyone automatically based on their immutable personal characteristics. Hate the specific people who've hurt you. Hate the self-reinforcing systems that let them get away with hurting you. Hate the strangers who prop up those systems. Hate the fascists. Hell knows I hate Donald Trump, but it's not because he's a man, it's because he's a piece of shit.

Hate the pieces of shit, not the gender.

But don't hate men just because they're men. That's unhelpful, stupid, insane, and entirely counterproductive. Fucking. Stop.

[morverenmaybewrites]

Lessons on Love | Jason Todd x Reader

What lesson about love are they still trying to learn?

Asked by @/citrussaurus

Literally everything. 

I think that Jason’s experiences have shaped him into someone who has quite an unhealthy view on love and relationships: the lack of a positive example of a healthy relationship during his childhood years, the confusing (but not entirely loveless) relationship he had with Bruce Wayne, and eventually his years of rage and isolation as the Arkham Knight. 

By the time post-Arkham Knight rolls around, Jason has a deeply unhealthy view on love and relationships.

And yet, despite this, I feel like he craves this. More than that he’s starved for it. 

I think a part of him hopelessly, desperately wants to be held dear. He wants a place to belong, someone to belong to. 

And it’s his great tragedy that he doesn’t know how to ask for it and more importantly, he doesn’t know how to receive it. Sometimes, Jason loves so quietly that it’s hard to see it as love –because God knows that no one in his life ever taught him to properly communicate. 

I picture the way Jason seeks affection like a starved street dog: there’s a hunger to it, a thirst.

(After all, if you have spent your whole life being starved of something, isn’t it only natural to seek it out, even if it’s just the bare scraps? And here you are, willing to give him your whole heart.)

But there’s also a sort of tension, then animal instinct to flee after being kicked more than several times for it.

I picture him as always perched at the edge of things: waiting, waiting for the inevitable moment where the rug is pulled out from under him, when the affection you had always so freely given will suddenly be withheld, and he will be left starving again, a hole at the center of him that he has no idea how to fill.

(But oh you are worth the fall.)

But I always think of him as physically perched on things, especially on the early days of your relationship: the edge of towering skyscrapers, hovering in your doorway just barely stepping into your threshold until you finally have to ask him to come in, your windowsill, just barely keeping himself out of the rain. He’ll try to act relaxed, but really, he’s tense as a bird about to take flight. Always, always prepared for the moment where he’ll be asked to leave.

(And yet, and yet, all he wants is that you ask him to stay.) 

He doesn’t know how to show you affection, doesn’t know how to ask for it. All he’s ever known is how to make himself useful. 

(After all, useful things don’t get thrown away. Useful things don’t get asked to leave.) 

He’ll keep you safe, which in Gotham City is no small feat, keep the villains away from your door: from the small-time crooks who target regular civilians for just that extra bit of cash to the supervillains whose plans would likely involve you (and the rest of Gotham City) as collateral.

And at first, it’s eerie: the sudden silence in your life, the feeling of peace, of being looked out for. You have never gone so long without encountering some sort of mugger or been involved in a bank robbery.

Then perhaps one day, you’ll get a text from an unknown number, asking you to stay away from Gotham Square that day. When you try to call to get more information, it comes up as Unavailable. And perhaps a week after that, you’ll get a similar text from a different, this time telling you to avoid Bleake Island.

Perhaps you solve it quickly or perhaps, not at all and it takes you a while to put together the pieces: Jason has been keeping you safe. 

And when you decide to talk to him about it, he’s cagey, almost embarrassed. He won’t deny it, but at the same time, when you try to thank him or show you appreciate him, he’ll react with confusion. 

After all, keeping his loved ones safe is second nature to him. In fact, I feel like it’s the one act of love that all of the Bats are comfortable with. 

He’ll do other things for you too. He’ll get up and make dinner after a long day, despite having just come back from a grueling mission, he does the dishes without being asked, hell, he’ll sometimes even throw in a load of laundry for you–taking a an unexpected pleasure from seeing the way your clothes are mixed in with his, the simple solid domesticity of it, at how your lives have become so intermingled that he now has to separate your socks from his. 

In short, he’ll do acts that, while on the outside seem nice, would sometimes border on servile. 

When you try to show him how much you appreciate what he does, he’ll be even more embarrassed: there’s an odd tension around his shoulders, the slightest dusting of pink on his cheeks. 

(And oh, Jason hates the way he blushes, knows the way it discolors around the brand on his cheek, the way it doesn’t redden along with the rest of his skin, but instead stands out, ghostly pale.) 

So he’ll shrug it off, barely being able to look at you. Acutely aware of how strange and monstrous he looks.

And even more so, he’s painfully aware of the reason he’s doing these things. Not only because he wants to take care of you (and he does), but because it’s the only way he knows how to be useful, how to be needed. 

How to be asked to stay.   

[ajellybee]

Tamed: Sukuna x Fem!Reader

⟢ CW!!: NSFW MDNI, 3.8k words, not proofread, excuse typos.. Freak frat boy Sukuna, virgin fem reader, college au, attempts of plot, no protection WRAP IT UP CHAT!!!, first time, cunnilingus, girl idk if thats all. You get the idea!! Virgin pussy so good you domesticated your whore of a best friend.

⟢🐝notes: this is my first time trying to do like, a full-fleshed fic so it might be a little rough…hope you enjoy tho!!! 

The HC that this was based off of here!

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“Hey, girl. You’re Sukuna’s friend right”. Not only has this girl been your lab partner all semester, but you guys also shared classes freshman year. You rolled your eyes because you know what’s coming next. Sukuna and you have been friends since junior year of high school. You got stuck with him for a project and you guys kind of just stuck. Sukuna also has a reputation for himself, being the class whore, even in high school, but since you guys started college it's gotten..so much worse. Even when he was a freshman the senior girls wanted a piece of him. 

You on the other hand were not as familiar in his field of expertise. Sure there were boyfriends here and there but you never went ALL the way, they were too eager to get their dicks wet and didn't care anything about your pleasure, so the virginity is still intact!! 

“Yes I know him, no he doesn’t want you, he’s with someone” It wasn't an entire lie. He was always down for a good fuck and he changes girls like clockwork, but he mentioned “scoring a hottie” earlier. The girl’s smile and friendly attitude towards you disappeared as if it was never there. Really it was annoying, dealing with your best friend’s shit. At this point, he needs to make announcements when he’s ready for the next girl. 

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“Sukuna I swear to every god out there, if one more girl approaches me trying to get in your pants, I'm killing you and them myself” He’s lying across your dorm bed scrolling through his phone. When he is not on his freak nasty agenda, he could be found in your room. You were able to score a single and he isn’t all too fond of his roommate. Seemingly not really listening to you he continues to scroll, causing you to kick his side. He thought it was funny, cute almost, how upset you got over this. It was the same argument every other week. He just wishes it came from a place of jealousy not inconvenience. 

“Woman I have no control over that. Not my fault this dick makes them crazy” he smirks at you making you scoff.

“God you're disgusting...get off my covers you’re dirty” you playfully(kind of) try and kick him off the foot of your bed. He quickly grabs your feet and pins them under his body, not budging despite your attempts to pull them free. 

“Don't be grouchy cuz you haven't gotten laid yet, brat” 

“Girl you fuck enough for the both of us, and like five more people. I’m good, trust.” You put emphasis on the last bit as you finally tug your feet free. “freak…”

“Anyways, look this was the girl I was telling you about” He shows you an Instagram page on his phone. Sukuna looked for any flash of jealousy in your face, but you gave him nothing. You used to like him back in High school, but liking him hurt too much. With every new girl and every story he’d tell you of said girl ripped away at you. To protect yourself you buried that feeling way way WAY deep down and you're fine with your relationship as it is now. Now you were indifferent, it's his life. Whatever. 

“Oh she’s pretty, how long is this one gonna last tho” 

“Don't know. She’s fine as fuck so maybe two weeks?” Again, no reaction to his statement, at least not the one he wanted. Sukuna? oh sukuna wanted you bad, but you never showed interest, if anything it felt like the opposite, and he didn't want to mess up what he did have with you, so he never pushed. 

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

For the next couple of days you've been, unwillingly, thinking about sex. Blame ovulation or blame the overwhelming talk of sex in your friend group ever since your best friend lost her virginity. But you really saw no point in trying again, with how disappointing and unwilling all your past intimate (if you can even call it that) experiences have been. The talk you had with Gojo didn’t help either. You made a small comment and he poked and prodded until you spilled everything, even the part that you’ve been craving that experience. 

“Well, you could ask Toji, You know that one senior. I heard he loves virgins!” That’s what the idiot told you, sure was a joke, but it could work. Toji, much like sukuna, has a reputation for being a campus whore, but his favorite go-to-girls, were virgins. He always boasted about all the V-cards he took, and how good he was at it, ruining them for their future partners. But what has also been running through your mind was what Shoko told you.

“It would be better if you had sex with someone you trust?”

“You’ve been friends with Sukuna for a long time, no? Why not him?” suguru added.  You sat on that for a long time too. Sukuna was your best friend, and you do trust him. From the stories he’s told you himself you wouldn’t be left disappointed. The thing is, Sukuna never showed interest in you, strictly platonic. Sure he never gave up the chance of a good fuck, but with you being a virgin or him not seeing you in that light because of your friendship, the “what ifs” drove you insane, but after much deliberation, you came up with a conclusion, and hey, the worst he could do is say no. You got to your dorm and built up the courage to call him.

“Oh?? I thought you were avoiding me. You miss me now?” you could hear the annoying smirk on his face. 

“You know what never mind” you were ready to hang up, deciding on plan B, but as you pulled your phone away he interrupted.

“Okay okay, what's up?” Sukuna always dropped whatever he was doing for you, even if that meant not hooking up with the girl he was telling you about. He quickly pushed her out ignoring all her protests and angry huffs. Maybe you saved him cuz her whining was pissing him off.

“Can you come over?” Your face burned knowing what you were going to ask once he got there. You were determined to get it over with, and you had a plan B if he said no. no biggy no biggy… you just need to ask your best friend to fuck you. 

Sukuna arrived at your door quicker than you expected (he was already on his way to your dorm before you even asked him to go over). Opening the door, you let him in and he immediately got comfortable sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Okay, so what's up?” He’s pretending to be normal about it. But with the way you sounded over the phone he was thinking a million things and expecting nothing at the same time, but what you would say next will stop his heart. 

“Let me speak, no interruptions.” You waited for confirmation, catching on Sukuna nodded and waited for you to continue. It was like floodgates opened the way you confessed ��Okay good. So… I want to lose my virginity. And, and I trust you the most out of everyone I know. It's okay if you say no, I won't take it to heart and besides, I have a plan B so it’s totally, totally fine.” it didn't feel as bad once you finished, although you didn't mean to add that last part. What happens, happens. You're comfortable with your relationship with sukuna so this should mean nothing to him, so you thought. Sukuna on the other hand, was not feeling the same relief, well he was until you mentioned a plan B.

“Plan B? And who the fuck is that” he stood up towering over you, eyebrow arched. 

“Oh well, gojo told me about Toji..you know him” The way he looked down on you was doing something, you felt something you hadn’t felt from another person in a while, Arousal. 

“Gojo is an idiot don't ever take advice from him” Sukuna regained a little of his composure after recalling your words. So he was plan A? “So you want me to fuck you, baby?” his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you to his chest. He liked the way you looked up at him. 

“Yes..” it came out barely a whisper, but sukuna wasn't having that.

“Sorry? What was that?” he leaned his ear down towards you. Oh so he’s gonna tease? You should have known.

“damn it.. Fuck, Yes, Sukuna. I want you” The words came out so breathy and desperate it surprised you. Sukuna noticed it as well and that fueled him even more as he slid his hands under your shirt and up your back. His warm hands felt like fire across your skin. He pushed you flush against his chest as his lips brushed against yours, breath fanning your face. 

“You gonna undress or do you want me to do it for you” a snicker left his lips as he watched you pout.

“Kuna be nice…” but nonetheless you stepped back and slowly peeled off each article of clothing, revealing more and more to sukuna. The tightening in his pants became more apparent once he saw you completely bare. He knew you'd be beautiful, but this level of imperfection felt illegal. Every peak and curve of yours looked so plush and soft, he wanted to kiss every inch of you. He wanted to caress your hips and feel as the goosebumps rose on your skin. But it wasn’t like him to voice all of that. Approaching you again, he leaned down and brushed his lips on yours again, but this time he kisses you. 

“Nice rack” Ignoring the sarcastic response you gave him in return, he reaches up to cup one of your breasts feeling the weight of it. His thumb brushed over your pebbling nipple, and the soft sigh you left out was better than he ever imagined. Sukuna pulled you towards your bed, making you lay back on your pillows. He pulled your thighs apart, but you quickly snapped them shut. “Well, how will you lose your V-card like that, let me see baby?” he slapped your thigh lightly urging you to open up again. Once you do he groans as you spread your lips for him, already so wet there were strings of arousal connecting. The two of you stayed like that for a while, you spreading yourself for him and Sukuna watching every twitch and clench. “Have any of them made you cum before?” you shake your head. He wanted to hunt them all down, but that’s for another time. “Have you ever made yourself cum?” you nod. “Then show me, sweetness.” he leans back on his heels. Sukuna had dreamed of being in this situation for so long, he’s going to make the most of it. 

“Kuna…I-” he raises his eyebrow at you again waiting for you to follow instructions. As instructed you brought one hand to circle around your clit. The way his eyes focused on the way you circled your bundle of nerves made even more slick drip from your pussy. You brought your other hand up to pinch and pull on one of your hardened nipples. Sukuna couldn't help but palm at his bulge, the ache too much to ignore as you sped up. 

“Put your fingers inside” he urged nearly drooling

“But that's never felt good when they did it” you whine moving your fingers faster. You were already close like this. Between the feeling of your own fingers and the way he watched, was enough to send you over the edge, but that was cut short. Sukuna huffed and slapped your hand away. The feeling of your orgasm depleting ripped a sob from your throat, but you were quickly shut up by one of his fingers prodding at your hole. 

“I'm not them” and with that he ducked his head between your thighs and watched the way your cunt sucked his finger in, just begging for another. He grew dizzy with the sweet musk that was coming from you. Sukuna could not believe he was face to face with what he dreamed about. His lips made their way to your pulsating bulb, giving it gentle kisses before enveloping it completely and giving you a harsh suck. You've never been touched like this before and this new sensation sent electricity throughout your whole body. Why didn’t you ask Sukuna to do this sooner? The rumors about him were true. 

“K-Kunaa, moree. M-more” your back arched so prettily for him when he added another finger, saying something about “yer greedy cunt” but the pleasure he was giving you was so overwhelming you couldn’t really focus on anything. He moved away from your clit down to get a taste of you, thumbing at your bundle of nerves while finally getting a taste of your honey pot. The groans he let out went straight to your cunt making you ooze more, earning more groans of approval. 

“Mm, you taste so sweet~. Can't believe it took so long for me to get a taste” he watched your face contort into that of pleasure and he wanted so badly to sink inside you, but he was enjoying being between your thighs too much to quit now. As soon as he started to fuck his tongue inside of your hole he couldn’t help but rut his hips against your sheets. The taste of you was making sukuna absolutely drunk. Never in his life has some pussy made him so desperate to nearly cream in his own boxers. He made mental notes of every reaction you had, recording every twitch and shiver you had to memory. 

You heard stories but you didn’t know just how messy of an eater he was. The sounds of him devouring you were so sinful and embarrassing, but the sound of him slurping and lapping at your cunt brought you closer and closer to cloud nine. If it wasn't for the vice grip you had on Sukuna’s pink locks or the way he pinned you down by your thighs you fear you’d simply float away. And oh when he locked eyes with you as he pinched your clit you saw a glimpse of the pearly gates. Your thighs clamped around his head as he drank everything you gave him. He continued to lap at your twitching pussy pushing you towards overstimulation.  If sukuna had it his way he would have spent another three hours with his face buried in your cunt, but you were desperately trying to push his head away with soft moans of “kuna please”.  Reluctantly he parted away from you with a kiss to your clenching hole and sat back on his knees admiring his handy work. Your pussy was a wet mess of your slik and his spit and oh did it make his dick jump with the way you lazily palmed at your breast, pupils completely blown as you wait for what you wanted, what you needed from him. 

“S-sukuna that was ssoo good” You watched as he whipped your remaining juices off his mouth and chin smirking wildly.

“Told you I wasn’t like those little boys you fucked around with” he leaned down capturing your lips in a passionate kiss that took no time to develop into a clash of tongue and teeth. The taste of yourself on his tongue made you moan into his mouth. The throbbing you felt started to become more and more unbearable as he kissed down your neck biting and nibbling here and there.

“Fuck… hurry I wanna feel you” You spread your legs making more room for him, bucking your hips up in desperate attempts to feel him. Sukuna groaned at the sight, wasting no time to discard his clothes, freeing his aching erection from the confines of his sweats. The size of him made you drip even more. How could you crave something so much when you've never had it? You don’t know but the need for him is burning through you. You wanna taste him, taste the pretty pearlescent pre that leaks from his tip in fat globs, lick the vein running on the underside of his cock, suck on the tip, feel the weight of him in your mouth, and see if he lets out pretty moans of your name. But you’ll save that for next time, hopefully, there will be a next time. Without realizing it you began to rub your clit as you watched him, his voice snapped you out of the trance.

“Cock drunk already? Playing with that pretty pussy just from the sight of my cock, oh I'm flattered” he cooed as he crawled back between your legs, heavy cock bobbing with his movements. His arrogance always got to you, but in this setting it made you crave him more. His cockieness made your cunt throb with anticipation. All you did in response was whine, something sukuna wasn't used to. No snarky sarcastic comeback, no punches, just whines and your hands desperately trying to pull him closer and it was driving him absolutely insane. He grabbed the base of his cock and lined it up with your entrance, dragging the tip up and down your slit and circled around your swollen clit a couple more times. The warmth radiating off of you felt soo good on him, but you guided his face to look back up at you causing him to stop his movements. 

“ ‘Kuna...w-wait. Please, could you be gentle?” the question came out barely audible, the vulnerability made your cheeks burn. He smiled in return, not his normal shit-eating grin, but one of sincerity. 

“ ‘Couse pretty baby. Need you to enjoy your first time, cant ruin my rep now can I?” he leaves a kiss on your forehead, and then goes down to capture your lips, not the clash of teeth and tongue as before. This one felt like more. In truth sukuna cared nothing for his reputation, as of right now he wanted to make you feel as good as possible. The newfound gentleness was new territory for him, but for you it felt like he needed to take his time and do things right. After giving you reassurance and promises of taking care of you, you gave sukuna the “okay” he needed to finally push into you. He felt the way you tensed up at the intrusion, but he was quick to shush you, kissing the tears away as he played with you clit to distract you from the stretch with each inch he sank into you. 

“Oh f-*hic*-uck, it’s...you’re so much I-. more please more” The feeling of him pressed all the way in you was nothing like you’ve felt. The stretch melted from uncomfort to unfathomable pleasure and you needed more. The twitch you felt from him inside you let you know that he felt just as good. In one swift motion, he pulled out just to the tip and pushed back in, the drag of him against your walls making you clench.

“Fuck your so t-ight even after all that work. You gotta relax… baby, f-fuck” his brows knitted together. The vice grip you had on him is going to make him cum prematurely, and he can’t have that. You tried your best to relax some but the way he fucked into you was way too good, and when he angled his hips up it was over. Your breath hitched, you've never reached that spot yourself and now you were seeing stars with the way he abused it. Over and over he bullied himself into you and right to that spongy spot. The moans you let out of his name only fueled sukuna more, rutting into you faster and harder. He promised to be gentle but the way you squeeze and drip around him made that impossible. The sound of your squelching pussy and his balls smacking against your ass was intoxicating, addicting. The sudden fluttering of your walls broke sukuna out his trance. 

“Kunnaaa I-Ithink..c-cum. I’mgonna cum” you moaned and moaned as you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him down for a kiss. Your moans were swallowed up by him in the messy kiss, mixed drool rolling down your chin. He pulled away pressin his forehead against yours whispering praises on how good you're making him feel and how good you're taking him.

“If you're gonna cum, cum. Lemme see what pretty face you make when you feel good” and the huskyness of his voice was the last push you needed to cream all over him. You arched off the bed, eyes rolling to the back of your head as silent moans left you. The spasms of your walls hurled him towards his own release. The way you try and milk him and suck his cock back in makes his thrusts sloppy. “Oh fu-ck, fuck. Youfeelsogood. So good. Virgin pussy is mine, taking my cock so well. Tell me its mine, yeah? Mine to fuck mine to- shit im gonna cum, whe-” his babbles get cut off before he can even finish his question.

“In-inside. Please i wanna feel you inside” and at that moment Sukuna makes a mental note to delete his booty call list. You are all he wants, all he needs. With the last remnants of his composure, he folds you completely in half, reaching even deeper than before. He felt so impossibly deep you swear you could feel his cockhead in your womb.  

“Fuck you're too good. Want me to fill you up? Fill up your pussy, yeah? Augh! Are you c-cuming again? Oh Oh-” he moans the loudest he’s ever had as he falls over on you. His body going completely stiff as thick ropes or his hot cum fill you to the brim. Sukuna was derailed by how caught off guard he was by his own orgasm. He has never came as hard as he did, body trembling as he tried to ride out both your highs. And oh he came so much, you feel both your releases oozing out before he even pulls out. The two of you stay like that for a little while, kisses here and there. Coos and caresses exchanged. 

“Thank you, Ryo…I think I get why you're a whore now.” and you break into a fit of giggles as he rolls his eyes in response. 

“Yeah whatever. You shoulda let me hit sooner baby.” he said kissing the corner of your mouth

“Baby? You called me that a lot. Am I your baby?” you raised an eyebrow jokingly, attempting to tease him,

“You wanna be? Sweetheart just say the word and im yours. All yours, Only yours” he was serious this time, no hint of playfulness, no teasing. 

“Take me out on a date”

“I already started planning it”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

⟢🐝notes: Sooor sorry it took so long chat. Hiii new followers hiiiii, sorry if you were waiting on this for too long （；´д｀）ゞ. I would blame college and work but like, also i've been doing nothing but play stardew 🌚. I HOPE IT WAS OKAY!!! Again im always open to feedback! And maybe i’ll do requests?? Idk if i have time ill do it. I think asks are open? Im fairly new to creating on here so idk...

Okay baiiiiiii (≧∇≦)ﾉ

[luludeluluramblings]

dream team back. we’re currently yapping central again (per usual)

both of us are straight up in a tim drake brainrot spiral too!!! he’s a delightful little weirdo. a strange little gentleman if you will.

tim is such a funny little guy!!! he also makes a solid yandere. you can’t outsmart him. you can’t escape someone who can find everything about you. On the upside, I feel like he’d be happy to spoil his darling. also he’d be like, really considerate in weird ways??? I mean like you don’t get privacy (or you get the illusion of it maybe but not actual privacy.)

like yeah you’re always being watched in some way, but the man has committed every single one of your favorites and least favorites to memories. He knows what clothing you like, what specific features you look for in everything, and if he doesn’t, by god, will he learn. He knows your favorite song, and he knows the nickname you went by in elementary school.

Do you think he pretends to be normal and basically sets things up to send reader to be like a little love story?? You meet by chance, and he fell first. He fell a LONG time ago, so now it’s his mission to make you fall too. And Tim Drake ALWAYS finishes a mission. (Even as a baby daddy candidate). He makes himself the best option, even if he’s not the father.

Yandere!TimDrake x PastFriend!Reader x Aiden Cobblepot

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Sooooo, I'm finally and slowly going through my ask box and you two may have sparked an idea just for Tim. I might have to do a Part Two for this. (I'm falling into the WIP trap. Help!) But, I love the thought of the Bat Family have competition when it comes to their darling. Gives them a challenge. Plus, I really wanted to use Aiden Cobblepot for this. I've been wanting to sneak him into something.

A/N: We have neglected!Sib!Reader, but what about a Neglected!Friend!Reader? Fun idea. Tim already knowing everything about you only to find you’ve changed and wants to study you all over again. Only this time he’s keeping you! (I’m very fond of Tim. I think he’s difficult to write for me, but I enjoy the little stalker so much.)

Warnings: Yandere Themes, Romantic themes, Tim can be read as kinda platonic, GN!Reader

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You and Tim were once good friends. Well, he was your best friend. To him you were just a good one. High school buddies that would hang out all the time. At school only. And sometimes the rare gala you saw him at. It was rare you ever actually went to The Manor. You never asked to go. But, you had hoped to be invite.

Just like you had hoped that he might reciprocate that pesky crush you had on him back then. You had felt like it was so painfully obvious. Though it wasn't as painful when you finally figured out he was Red Robin and you waited and waited for him to tell you his secret identity. And, then you would tell him you already figured it out and you would look so cool.

Only, he never did. You both grew distant. You had put so much carful effort into keeping that distance from growing. Inviting him to hang out more. Asking him out for casual coffee. He always said the same thing.

"Oh, damn. I could really go for that right now. But, I'm just sorta busy. Next time though. For sure."

Over and over. He sounded like a broken character. Repeating the same phrase. One that you would hang around after the game was over to reminisce about all the fun adventures you both once had. However this was life not a game. You couldn't just restart and rerun the same adventures.

It made you ache when you finally moved on. When you finally pulled away. Because, Tim didn't even notice you were gone. His life to change. He didn't have to restart anything. You had lost your best friend and he didn't even care. It stung. It stung more than you realizing he'd never reciprocate your feelings.

But, like all things, time moves on and so do you. Leaving the past behind and starting a new game. One that you start to flourish in. Making new friends. Meeting new people. Building closer bonds and more healthy friendships. It had been interesting to realize how dependent you had been on Tim once upon a time. And, embarrassing. You can't help looking back on it with a wince. You almost want to reach out and apologize. But, that would be weird and you both live completely separate lives now. You hardly ever see him at galas now. Mostly because you don't go anymore.

Things, do change. You never expected your new partner would draw Tim's attention back to you. And, in such a terrible way.

You had a rough idea of what you were getting into when Aiden Cobblepot had asked you out to dinner. You figured he was only interested in you for your money or your half-decent looks or your family name and position. You had heard all the rumors about him, but still you went. Mostly, because you knew how dangerous he and his family were. And, you were… presently surprised.

He was a bit of an entitled asshole. But, he wasn't scared of getting dirty. You watched him lead you through the puddles of rain water and Gotham grim in the posh restaurant. He held more concern for you're clothing getting dirty than his, which were more expensive than yours. He paid for the date without flinching at the price. Encouraged you to try his own food from his plate. Talked about fond memories of the things he and his sister got up to as children while asking you about your own childhood.

Admittedly, you were easily seduced because after that the two of you became an item. You didn't even realize how official you were until he introduced you to his sister, Addison, and she was actually nice to you. Extremely nice. She did, however, threaten to kill you if you betrayed Aiden in any way, which was honestly fair enough.

Aiden and you were a bit on the opposite side of things, taste wise and morally wise. But, you both made it work. He continued his life of crime, but made no mention of it around you to keep you legally clean. You shared most of your life with him, letting him have a slight glimmer into normalcy. He liked to take you on fancy dates and show you a good time. You were happy to pull him inside just to spend personal time with each other. Of course, you both made compromises. Aiden had a taste for luxury, and you didn't mind indulging in it. Especially after you beat his ass multiple times in Mario cart. It was only fair you let him take you to a gala some point.

Little did you know that that was how Tim would come clawing and digging his way back into your life.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

For Tim seeing you again was like finding an old precious treasure. His life had gotten so difficult and complicate lately that just a reminded of all those old times was nice.

However, seeing you on the arms of the Penguin's son was a brutal wake up call. What were you doing? Had you hit your head? Was he blackmailing you? Drugging you? Everyone in Gotham could recognize the name Cobblepot and how dangerous they are. And, he remembers how smart you were so you couldn't have willing chose to be there. It's not logical.

For your safety, he reintroduces himself to you. Long time, no see. We should hang out some time and catch up. Only he means it. He can't let this happen. He can't let you fall in with a man like that. You're his friend. He'll win you over for your own sake. Ruin Cobblepot while he's at it because how dare he use you.

Even if you changed. Even if you don't smell the same. If your hair is different. If you dress different. Even if your very laugh had changed pitch, he knows you. And, if anything, he can just re-learn you all over again. It won't take long. He's done it all before. This time he'll savor though. This time he won't let you go as he pulls you back in. You were a good friend, this time he'll make you more.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I’m starting to type up Part Three of Pregant!Reader, but I ended up coming up with another start to it with more drama that would be strictly for the BatBoys. The messed up drama in it sounds fun and challenging, but I won’t do it until I finish what I started with the blurbs I have planned included.

A/N: Smalltown!Meta!Reader Part Nine is going to take a while. I have big plans for it, but Pregnant!Reader is kinda outshining it.

A/N: I will post about the LoungeSinger!Reader and another idea I came up with that y’all might like that I’ll add to the concept list.

A/N: There’s a Tony Part Two coming, but it’s only halfway typed and still not that yandere-y. Need to fix that.

A/N: My asks box is full, so I’m gonna try to empty it, but I host Thanksgiving in my family and I’m also a Christmas nut, so I’m gonna be busy. (I have four Christmas trees in my house currently… But I’m not as bad as my in-laws! They had their trees up BEFORE Halloween.)

[mellonhead58]

A Mathematician's Lament

I've put the introduction below the cut. I think it's worth reading if nothing else.

A musician wakes from a terrible nightmare. In his dream he finds himself in a society where music education has been made mandatory. “We are helping our students become more competitive in an increasingly sound-filled world.” Educators, school systems, and the state are put in charge of this vital project. Studies are commissioned, committees are formed, and decisions are made— all without the advice or participation of a single working musician or composer. Since musicians are known to set down their ideas in the form of sheet music, these curious black dots and lines must constitute the “language of music.” It is imperative that students become fluent in this language if they are to attain any degree of musical competence; indeed, it would be ludicrous to expect a child to sing a song or play an instrument without having a thorough grounding in music notation and theory. Playing and listening to music, let alone composing an original piece, are considered very advanced topics and are generally put off until college, and more often graduate school. As for the primary and secondary schools, their mission is to train students to use this language— to jiggle symbols around according to a fixed set of rules: “Music class is where we take out our staff paper, our teacher puts some notes on the board, and we copy them or transpose them into a different key. We have to make sure to get the clefs and key signatures right, and our teacher is very picky about making sure we fill in our quarter-notes completely. One time we had a chromatic scale problem and I did it right, but the teacher gave me no credit because I had the stems pointing the wrong way.” In their wisdom, educators soon realize that even very young children can be given this kind of musical instruction. In fact it is considered quite shameful if one’s third-grader hasn’t completely memorized his circle of fifths. “I’ll have to get my son a music tutor. He simply won’t apply himself to his music homework. He says it’s boring. He just sits there staring out the window, humming tunes to himself and making up silly songs.” In the higher grades the pressure is really on. After all, the students must be prepared for the standardized tests and college admissions exams. Students must take courses in Scales and Modes, Meter, Harmony, and Counterpoint. “It’s a lot for them to learn, but later in college when they finally get to hear all this stuff, they’ll really appreciate all the work they did in high school.” Of course, not many students actually go on to concentrate in music, so only a few will ever get to hear the sounds that the black dots represent. Nevertheless, it is important that every member of society be able to recognize a modulation or a fugal passage, regardless of the fact that they will never hear one. “To tell you the truth, most students just aren’t very good at music. They are bored in class, their skills are terrible, and their homework is barely legible. Most of them couldn’t care less about how important music is in today’s world; they just want to take the minimum number of music courses and be done with it. I guess there are just music people and non-music people. I had this one kid, though, man was she sensational! Her sheets were impeccable— every note in the right place, perfect calligraphy, sharps, flats, just beautiful. She’s going to make one hell of a musician someday.”

Waking up in a cold sweat, the musician realizes, gratefully, that it was all just a crazy dream. “Of course!” he reassures himself, “No society would ever reduce such a beautiful and meaningful art form to something so mindless and trivial; no culture could be so cruel to its children as to deprive them of such a natural, satisfying means of human expression. How absurd!” Meanwhile, on the other side of town, a painter has just awakened from a similar nightmare…

I was surprised to find myself in a regular school classroom— no easels, no tubes of paint. “Oh we don’t actually apply paint until high school,” I was told by the students. “In seventh grade we mostly study colors and applicators.” They showed me a worksheet. On one side were swatches of color with blank spaces next to them. They were told to write in the names. “I like painting,” one of them remarked, “they tell me what to do and I do it. It’s easy!” After class I spoke with the teacher. “So your students don’t actually do any painting?” I asked. “Well, next year they take Pre-Paint-by-Numbers. That prepares them for the main Paint-by-Numbers sequence in high school. So they’ll get to use what they’ve learned here and apply it to real-life painting situations— dipping the brush into paint, wiping it off, stuff like that. Of course we track our students by ability. The really excellent painters— the ones who know their colors and brushes backwards and forwards— they get to the actual painting a little sooner, and some of them even take the Advanced Placement classes for college credit. But mostly we’re just trying to give these kids a good foundation in what painting is all about, so when they get out there in the real world and paint their kitchen they don’t make a total mess of it.” “Um, these high school classes you mentioned…” “You mean Paint-by-Numbers? We’re seeing much higher enrollments lately. I think it’s mostly coming from parents wanting to make sure their kid gets into a good college. Nothing looks better than Advanced Paint-by-Numbers on a high school transcript.” “Why do colleges care if you can fill in numbered regions with the corresponding color?” “Oh, well, you know, it shows clear-headed logical thinking. And of course if a student is planning to major in one of the visual sciences, like fashion or interior decorating, then it’s really a good idea to get your painting requirements out of the way in high school.” “I see. And when do students get to paint freely, on a blank canvas?” “You sound like one of my professors! They were always going on about expressing yourself and your feelings and things like that—really way-out-there abstract stuff. I’ve got a degree in Painting myself, but I’ve never really worked much with blank canvasses. I just use the Paint-by-Numbers kits supplied by the school board.”

pardon the wall of text, tumblr cries and hits itself every time it hears the word "formatting".

I didn't wanna derail the other post but I still wanna spread some love for my favourite subject...

Reblog if you've ever felt genuine joy or excitement from doing and/or thinking about math

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Boo

Prompt: You end up taking Jack and your daughter trick or treating while Aaron is stuck at work.

Note: I know this Halloween inspired prompt is a little belated but the amount of fluff is worth it. 🥰

“I want that one!” your daughter yelled, grabbing the bigger candy bucket from Jack’s hands. A frown appeared on his face but he seemingly held himself back from acting out. The little 8 year old had way more patience than you did at his age, clearly taking after Aaron’s constant calm and controlled demeanor.

“Hey,” you spoke, crouching down to her level. “Jackers is your brother and you need to be nice to him. We don’t yell and take things away from each other.” She looked back and forth from him to you, an expression of disapproval evident. “Why don’t you try asking him nicely if you can have the bigger bucket, ok?”

You and Jack waited as she stayed silent, clearly struggling with the idea to be polite. Finally, she turned to Jack and spoke. “Can I have Jack?”

He looked over at you and then to the smaller identical bucket by her feet. “Yeah, ok.”

You sighed in relief and gave them both a big smile. For a second, you thought there was gonna be a tantrum happening before you even got a chance to trick or treat but luckily Jack came to your rescue, being the bigger man.

“See, wasn’t that nicer than yelling at Jack?” She just nodded, avoiding eye contact, probably embarrassed that she was in the wrong. “Ok, now let’s go get some candy!”

Like a switch, they were both back to being happy and excited as they ran to the door. You grabbed both of their jackets that you knew they were gonna want later on as well as your little tumbler of wine. That was your treat for the night.

Before leaving the house, you came over to Jack and plopped a king sized Snickers bar in his bucket, giving him a wink and smile once he noticed. He pretended to zip his lips shut and throw away the key, making you laugh.

The first couple of house went smoothly, your daughter clutching onto Jack most of the time, not convinced with the suspicious looking decorations outside of some of the houses. You sent a picture of the two of them to Aaron, knowing he’d want to see how they were doing even if he couldn’t be there.

Aaron: They look adorable. How far have you gotten?

You: Still on our street, but making great headway. Jack is excited to get to Wicker street where he knows they give out the bigger candy.

Aaron: Smart boy. I see he let his sister have the bigger bucket.

You: Yeah, he handled it very well. Reminded me a lot of his father. (;

Aaron: Love to hear that. Gotta go but I love you.

You: Love you too.

You put your phone away just as you heard your daughter scream and watch as she made a beeline for you, leaving Jack in the dust. "Sweetheart, what's the matter?" you asked bending down. She looked absolutely terrified as tears began streaming down her face and the little tiara on her head struggled to stay attached. Instead of answering, she just pointed over to the porch that she had just ran from. You knew then what she was referring to when you saw the dog dressed as a big spider. It took everything in you not to laugh out loud.

"Oh honey, it's a just a doggy. He's dressed up for Halloween just like you." You brushed the hair out of her eyes while she continued crying, completely unconvinced that the dog was not a gigantic spider there to eat her and waited as Jack came back over. He inspected the scene before him, obviously aware of what happened and proceeded to pull a pack of gummy worms out from his bucket of goodies.

"Here. I got you worms," he offered, forcing the candy into her hand. Just like that, the crying stopped immediately as she played with the package, trying to figure out how to open it.

"That was so nice of your brother. Can you say thank you sweetie?"

"Thank you," she repeated. You gave Jack a ruffle on his head and pulled him in for a hug. He was literally the sweetest boy you knew.

"Alright, Jack. You want to lead the way to the next street?" He shook his head in excitement and wasted no time in showing you the way.

After walking up to the first house and receiving two big chocolate bars, he was practically racing to the next house for more.

"Not so fast Jack, stay close." you told him, scanning your surroundings, knowing anything could happen. Your daughter followed in step with you, busy gnawing on some gummy candy that you were sure was gonna end up keeping her up all night. Just before you all reached the next house, someone caught your eye. The tall figure was a bit far away but became increasingly clearer, the closer you got. Jack was the first to identify him.

"Daddy!"

You watched him run ahead and into the arms of your husband, who was still dressed in his work attire. In that moment, you were entirely grateful to the Bureau for their strict dress code. The dress pants, FBI windbreaker, and holstered weapon had you thinking all kinds of dirty scenarios in your head you'd like to play out with him but for the sake of your toddler children, you decided to indulge your fantasies later.

You and your daughter walked over, a gentle smile on your lips as he set Jack down to give her a hug. "Well this is a pleasant surprise." you greeted, giving him a kiss once he came back up.

“Case wrapped up sooner than expected. Figured the team could use an early night considering the occasion."

You pulled him in for another kiss, this time, a slightly longer and deeper, earning a curious hum from him. "What was that for?"

Absentmindedly, you played with his tie and looked up at his boyish expression. "I just really like your Halloween costume."

Being the ever observant special agent he was, it didn't take long for him to understand what you meant as a knowing smirk played on his lips. "I see."

"Daddy, up," your daughter demanded while pulling on his pant leg, interrupting the moment.

“Of course sweetheart.” He propped her up on his hip and gave you one last look before turning his attention to them. “Lead the way Batman,” Aaron spoke to Jack in his costume.

All of you followed after the young boy, it not taking long for both of their candy buckets to fill up and their sugar high to come crashing down. Your daughter had fallen asleep in Aaron’s arms on the walk back and Jack walked hand in hand with you, his pace a lot slower than earlier.

Once in the house, you helped Jack separate his candy while Aaron put your daughter down for bed. "The Twix are my favorite. Dad can have the pretzels and you can have the lollipops," he offered, pushing the less interesting candy towards you.

“Alright. I’ll keep all of your candy in a very secure safe place,” you reassured him, putting his little pile into a ziplock bag. “Why don’t you go get changed into your pj’s and brush your teeth.”

He listened without a fuss, a tired yawn making its way out of his mouth as he shuffled down the hall, passing by his dad who gave him a high five.

You watched him make his way over to you, a playful glint in his eye, his arms snaking their way around your waist before he placed a gentle kiss against your neck. "I thought I could run us a bath. Maybe give you a massage afterwards." His murmured words sent a shiver through you, your body reacting immediately. You turned to face him, your hands slowly pulling down on his jacket zipper, your eyes locked with his.

Leaning in, his lips met yours with a burning passion you loved. Like that was the last kiss he'd ever have. His hand cradled your head, fingers entwining in your hair and as he stepped closer, the faint smell of cologne from that morning still lingered on his clothes, overstimulating your senses. Your hands rested themselves on his torso, grabbing at the fabric, wanting nothing more than to rip it right off his body as his breath hitched, telling you he felt the same way.

"Daddy!" Jack called from down the hall, bringing the both of you back down to earth. He was probably waiting for his nightly bedtime story you made sure to give him, all cuddled up in his bed, surrounded by his numerous stuffies and dressed in his Batman pajamas.

You pulled away from Aaron, his eyes dark and filled with desire.

"Wait for me," he spoke lowly, stepping back from you before heading towards Jack's room, ready to give the shortest bedtime story ever.

[endearng]

Brave

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: You're left all alone, but now you can think of some you want to share your solitude — and food — with. WC: 5.9k (I am so sorry) Warnings: brief mentions of Penelope's parents arch, grief and depression. A/N: Hello! I struggled so much trying to find time to finish this one. Let me know what you guys think! Feedbacks are highly appreciated! neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

Honestly, hearing your name leaving someone's lip usually made Spencer eager to know what was going on, if it involved you — of course, he knew that you shared it with many people, after all, there are 8 billion people existing at the same time, so he could definitely come up with statistics regarding how many of them shared names with you. Furthermore, he worked with humans, dealing constantly with their data, names included, so yours could definitely be pronounced by someone close to him.

He just didn't expect to hear a chant. Something about you and him sitting in a tree as Penelope approached him in the bullpen kitchenette.

"What was that?" He asked, eyes wide, once he heard Penelope's voice. She snickered.

She repeated the chant.

"Garcia!" His voice came out in a squeak, frantically looking around. "Shut up!" It wasn't in his nature to be so rude, but he was desperate for her to be quiet, especially because someone could hear her.

Emily, apparently coming from thin air, creeped up on them. "Spencer and who?"

"G—ah! Nobody!" He jumped from where he was standing, not expecting someone else to join them anytime soon, almost spilling his coffee.

"I caught our boygenius with a friend." Penelope announced, proud of her discovery.

"What?" Emily asked, shocked.

Once Penelope noticed that she revealed something she certainly should not have and she saw the look on his face, she slapped her hand over her mouth, wide eyes looking at Spencer in an apologizing manner. She was just so excited to finally see Spencer in that scenario that she basically ignored his wishes to keep it — whatever it was — a secret. "Thanks a lot, Garcia," he deadpanned.

"What? What friend?" Emily pressed, a smile on her lips. Not teasing, surprised, perhaps, but she didn't have any traces of mockery in her expression or tone. She looked... proud?

Penelope had started feeling bad for running her mouth too easily, but once she saw Spencer's lips turn upwards in a small grin, she gushed, "Yes!!! I went over to her house to give her daughter's gift, I am her godmother, after all... So I was knocking on her door—”

"More like banging." He interrupted.

"And from my spot, I see our boygenius not so subtly trying to disguise something. Do not look at me like that," she squinted her eyes and pointed her finger at him threateningly when he opened his mouth to speak. "You were stuttering and basically left her all by herself because you got too embarrassed."

"Oh, no, Reid..." Emily couldn't help her remark, pursing her lips.

"What? What did I do?"

Truth was, Spencer was replaying the interaction in his head the entire time after Penelope had left. He had stood there, at the sidewalk, dumbfounded and mortified by her remarks in your presence, not really knowing if he should go back to your apartment. He was definitely enjoying getting to know you, but it just felt wrong to go back and act as if nothing had happened because he had just gotten awfully weird. The man had struggled with himself, his thoughts conflicting between going back to yours or keeping to himself in his apartment. He decided on the latter, not willing to put himself through more embarrassment.

What if you didn't like him like that and you thought he was a creep now? What if you just saw him as a friend?

Worse, as a neighbor?

"You should've stayed. I know you probably got nervous, but what if she got the wrong idea once you dashed out the door when you were seen with her?" Emily inquired, but Penelope, despite not being a profiler, understood right away that she was onto something.

Her eyes glimmered.

Spencer's stomach dropped. "Oh, no..." he whispered softly. "I have to go."

And he basically fled the room.

The women exchanged playful glances.

"I knew it!" Penelope stated. She turned her head in the direction he ran to. "For a profiler, for a genius, he sometimes is so dumb."

"And just like that," Emily snapped her fingers, "IQ of 187 slashed down to 60." she snickered. Reaching for the coffee pot and pouring some of the liquid into her mug, she remarked, "There is definitely something," Emily laughed. "Do you think we should help him?"

"Don't worry," she winked at her friend, "I've got a few ideas."

Later that day, you got a call from Garcia. You were in your car, taking deep breaths and willing yourself not to cry out of frustration. The work shift had finished, officially, nearly an hour ago, but your boss held you back to discuss some projects that you were involved in. You had to call your dad to ask him kindly to pick up your daughter at school — you didn't see it coming, so you called him after about an hour of Olivia waiting by herself at school.

The unexpected meeting made you incredibly late and it turned your mood sour, because you always loved the car rides with Olivia after you picked her up, not to mention that she probably thought you had forgotten about her. Never. You had just started the engine when you heard your phone ring. You put her on speaker as you drove to your parents to pick up your daughter, who was now there. "Hi, Pen!" You greeted.

Despite the disaster, a smile crept up on your face when you remembered the last interaction you had with her. With Spencer…

"Hi, sweetcheeks!" She said back. You could hear the faint sounds of computers and keys being pressed in the background. "How are you?"

"I'm good, I guess. I had a surprise meeting so I couldn't get Olivia," you replied, eyes on the road ahead of you. "How are you, Pen?"

"Oooh, I'm sorry that happened. I know you're probably berating yourself for it, but it's okay, it wasn't your fault." She tried to lighten up.

"Yeah..." You muttered, a certain tightness in your chest you couldn't keep at bay.

"She'll understand. You are doing a fantastic job showing her the real world." Penelope comforted you. You blinked away emotional tears, grateful that the roads were calm and you weren't a reckless driver. You couldn't really speak, so she continued, "Actually, she is the main reason I called you." She revealed, making you chuckle wetly. "I really miss Olivia and I'm truly sorry I missed her birthday. I haven't been the best godmother in the world..."

"Don't worry about it." You dismissed it. "I always tell her you're a tech fairy who does magic with computers to save people. A real life hero," you chuckled. "She understands it." You whispered. Trying to keep that feeling in. Not sure if you were speaking to her or to yourself.

"I know, but, still..." She retorted softly.

Penelope frequently complimented you and Olivia. You tried your best to raise her to be a good, kind and smart person. Unbeknownst to Penelope, her comments made you remind you of right after you were left all alone with your daughter. The tech analyst didn't hear a word from you for days, but once she visited you and saw the place without a single trace of Olivia's dad, she understood it all. You kept silent, still trying to adapt to a world where you were lonely again. Despite the odds and unwillingness to open up to her, you kept talking to your daughter, even if she didn't truly understand it all. From her early years, you made sure to provide her everything she needed to speak like she does now.

Your own personal chatterbox.

A titter broke through you, "I sure hope so." You replied, rubbing your eyes at a red light. "I also hope you know I'm driving and I can't cry right now," you joked.

"Ah, right! Sorry, baby!" She exclaimed clumsily, true Penelope style. "All of this to ask if I can spend some time with her on... on Friday! Yes!" She paused and then continued.

"Friday?" You asked, uncertain. "That's usually when we go out together."

"Yeah, and I'm sorry for taking it away from you, it's just that I..." second pause on her speech, "I wanna make it up for missing her birthday and I seriously hope that creepy guys give me a break so that I can spend some time with our Oli girl." She finished.

Still uncertain and the tiniest bit jealous, you relented. "Okay, Pen. May I ask you where you are taking her?"

"Well... it's a surpr—we are going to an amusement park!" She paused and then squealed and you could hear clapping.

You snickered, joking along, "It's your funeral."

"I'll die a happy woman. That's all, sweetcheeks! Thank you so much! Gotta go. Prrr."

And just like that, she hung up on you. Little did you know, she and Emily Prentiss high-fived and made ridiculous noises to celebrate the execution of their mastermind plan taking shape.

Penelope Garcia, the singular rollercoaster of emotions that you are.

Back in the bullpen, Spencer focused on his reports — not that it was a difficult task, but he felt cornered by Emily's outlook from earlier. Had he done the wrong thing? If he did, could he fix it? He wasn't the most experienced man in the world when it came to dating and women in general. He was on the brink of insanity, nearly going up to Hotch for advice. He ruled out Morgan immediately because he knew he couldn't get tips from someone who would definitely tease him, in a manner that felt lowkey demeaning.

Spencer had a lot of insecurities, and being socially awkward in his mid-twenties was one of them. Next to Morgan, he felt like a fourteen-year-old who didn't even know how to properly say hi to people. He needed some words from someone who understood him.

But who did?

Wrapping up one of his reports, his phone beeped.

Come to my lair. Treats are on the table :)

Penelope

Cautiously approaching the door, like there was a bomb inside, Spencer opened the door to Penelope's office. "Okay, so I know you were upset and maybe you still are a little because I spilled your... um... moment to Emily but I wanted to say sorry and ask you to please not be mad at me. I was just excited for you and I knew Emily would be, too." She blabbered once he closed the door behind him.

His ears turned pink and he tried playing it cool by reaching for one of the cookies that were in a bowl. "It's okay, Garcia. I was upset for a moment, but I know you didn't mean it."

She smiled. "Glad to hear that! Thank you, Reid."

He leaned his body on the desk adjacent to her, crossing his arms over his chest. He cleared his throat. "So, um, how do you know her?"

"We met in college. She had my back when my parents... you know."

A pause. He hated that he, sometimes, lacked the sensitivity to approach people and that, despite being brightly intelligent, often missed possible outcomes for more personal conversations.

"I'm... I'm sorry I asked. I know it can be a delicate topic." He offered her a sympathetic smile, even though he was berating himself on the inside.

"It's okay. Thank you." Garcia smiled. "She always checked on me, made sure I was eating properly, that I wasn't... harming myself... She even went over to my dorm to tidy everything when I was too depressed to get out of bed." She took a deep breath. "I swear, Spencer. She was there. And we had just met." She finished, softly.

If Spencer admired the person you were before, now he was almost tongue tied, not having the wits to come up with a comment of his own. It truly shocked him, because, one: his experience with college kids had been totally different, of course, but two: what kind of person goes out of their way, even when dealing with their personal burdens, to help someone they just met?

Garcia searched his face. A small smile on her lips starkly contrasted with her crestfallen eyes. "Shortly after her graduation, she got married and, later, pregnant with Olivia. I was still around, on and off. I joined the FBI and had less and less time to hang out, but I always had and always will have a soft spot for her. She was there for me."

He couldn't help but want to know more. He knows it should be better to learn about you from you, but, right now, he was handed an opportunity he couldn't deprive himself from grasping, "Wow. That's-That's a lot of history." He said, in a low voice, a little hesitant.

"Yes. And you will know much, much more." Penelope said, confident tone lacing her words.

"Why do I sense you're onto something?" He inquired, brows furrowing with worry.

"Because I am." She winked at him.

Oh, no.

"What?"

"Trust me on this one, loverboy." She snickered.

Penelope Garcia, the mess you'll make.

Friday rolled around with promises of a certain blonde bringing your daughter home by 9p.m. The feeling almost made you feel like a possessive mother who didn't let their kids have boyfriends. Or girlfriends. You were fine with it, by the way. Either. You just weren't currently fine with the idea of spending time away from her.

You reluctantly let Olivia go. Penelope stood behind her in your living room. You were crouching down to your daughter's height.

"Mommy, I'll be back before you know it," she said. Just like you did when she was first getting adapted to going to school. You scrunched your face, feeling like the most loved person in the whole universe.

You were.

"I'll bring you cotton candy." She promised, raising her pinky in front of you. You crossed your own with hers.

"Now you're just bribing me." You leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Is it working?" Penelope chirped in, an easy smile on her face.

You giggled, looking up at her for a moment. "Maybe..."

"Mommy loves you, okay?" You said. "I promise I can take you somewhere even cooler than aunt Garcia is taking you," you joked.

"Now you're just being mean," the woman frowned playfully.

"Yeah, mom! Don't be mean."

"I can't believe you're turning my own daughter against me. And she's scolding me. In my own house." You feigned offense. Garcia burst out in laughter with Olivia.

Two kids in your living room.

"Okay, mommy," she said, finally, giving you a kiss on each of your cheeks, just like you did with her. "Bye bye. Say bye bye to Aunt Penelope, too."

"Okay," you agreed. "Bye bye, Aunt Penelope." you teased. Olivia was already walking out, ahead of you two.

"Bye bye, mommy." Penelope joked as you walked her out. Olivia pressed the elevator button as you and Garcia stood in front of your apartment, side by side with you, watching your kid wait for the elevator. Then, she looked you up and down, a knowing look on her face.  "You're totally a hot mommy." She winked.

You didn't have an answer to that, the remark catching you off guard. Instead, you shoved her jokingly.

"Get outta here," you quipped, flustered, watching her as she entered the elevator with Olivia, holding her small hand.

You waved as the elevator doors closed. You sighed when they were out of your eyesight.

Coming back to your place, you looked around in hopes to find something to entertain yourself with. Truth was that without your daughter, you felt a little lost. Sometimes, you'd get lost in your own head, too sick with worry about losing yourself in order to be sufficient for Olivia. The remedy for those thoughts were usually doing something on your own for yourself. Tonight, you decided to cook something.

After a quick trip to the local supermarket and some embarrassment on the self-checkout cashier, you made it back to your home with everything needed to make pasta from scratch. Maybe you got a little excited by literally having your hands dirty and made enough pasta to feed the entire apartment complex. You cut them in different sizes and shapes and cursed your dad for a moment for having taught you your way around food.

Giving it a better thought, seeing your kitchen with pasta hanging to dry everywhere, maybe it was an opportunity. You turned the thought of feeding the families who surrounded you to simply feeding Spencer.

You smiled at yourself, pleased with the idea.

One, two, three eager knocks on Spencer's doors made him interrupt his Doctor Who's weekly (if no bad guys were forcing him to work) marathon. He looked through the peephole and found you, his neighbor, studying his door, probably to avoid looking directly into the hole, like it was an intricate work of art. A smile crept upon his face. He never thought he'd be so happy to be interrupted. Opening the door, he greeted, "Hi!"

A joyful "Hi!" was your answer.

You took a minute to look at him. He looked more relaxed, of course, but you came to the conclusion that he didn't own many casual clothes, because he was dressed in a dark blue Caltech sweatshirt and slacks. Funny matching, but it worked for you. Differently from what you usually saw him dressed in, he didn't appear so tired. He was glowing.

"Um, do you need anything?" He asked politely, scrunching his brows a little bit in concern as your silence became too long.

A sliver of doubt crossed through your features. "I'm not interrupting you, am I?"

"No, not at all." He lied.

He'd take your interruptions at any time.

"Oh, that's great. It's just... I miscalculated the amount of pasta that I was um... making." You struggled to find the words, a little mesmerized by the simple act of looking at him. "Do you want to, um, do you want to have some? With me? I've been told I'm good at cooking." You finally asked, with a little convincing on top.

Not that he needed any. You had him at hi. Spencer felt disarmed.

"Yes. I-I'd love to."

"Great!" You cheered. "Come on. You can help me cut them once they dry a little bit."

He followed you into your apartment. Today, the atmosphere felt a lot different. You had music playing softly and the highlight was in the kitchen, where strings of pasta hanged from basically everywhere. There was still a small piece of dough on the surface of your kitchen counter, which was surrounded by a big, sharp knife, a pasta maker machine and some other kitchen gadgets that, surprisingly, Spencer didn't know the name of.

"Wow. It's really a lot." He thought out loud.

"Yeah," you chuckled. "I usually make small amounts, but there's no problem in freezing them." You said, glancing briefly at your watch.

"Oh, okay." He replied meekly. "I'm not so sure if I can help, though. I'm not very good at cooking."

"No!" You feigned exaggerated surprise.

"Yes," he quipped, furrowing his brows playfully.

"But you have to work for it." You deadpanned, looking him dead in the eye. "I tricked you. I only called you here so you'd help me with it. If you don't, you won't get pasta."

He raised both hands, joining your banter. Easily. Despite, despite, despite. "No problem. I like learning."

You scrunch your face, giving him the most adorable grin. "Okay, doctor. So, this small ball here," you said, pointing at the dough and rolling up your sleeves, "needs to rest for a few minutes. It needs to dry a little bit to make cutting it easier. I'll tell you how to do it once you have an apron on."

"Oh, sorry, I don't have any at home. I don't really cook." He mentioned it again.

"I thought so." You grinned. "But don't worry about it. I have a collection. My dad's a chef and everything he gives me as a casual gift is related to cooking" you chuckled.

Okay, so the miscalculated amount was definitely an excuse to have him with you. His heart felt like giving out at any minute. You wanted him there. It was almost like you had it all planned out, and Spencer watched as you moved around your kitchen so confidently and calmly, very much unlike his mind that was running miles per second. Spencer usually had a hard time calming down, but this, this was something else. He was alone with you and he didn't even know how to say anything. Simultaneously proud and jealous of your easygoing chatter, he decided that it was better to follow your lead and try not to be awkward around you than doing anything else.

Slowly being pulled out of his self-conscious and overall sad thoughts, he busied himself with watching you, instead. He smiled to himself. Again, despite, despite, despite. You grabbed an apron from one of your drawers and Spencer watched you quietly. You moved so effortlessly that he felt inclined to just sit and watch you in your own scene. In that moment, you were not Olivia's mother, not a character from a novel he imagined, not a publisher, not Garcia's friend from college, just a woman doing something she enjoys doing. And he was delighted to be present to see it.

Moving back to where he stood, you stopped in front of him. You held it out in front of you, almost waiting for his permission to get closer. Spencer nodded eagerly and you smiled. You put the apron over his head and he raised his arms, almost automatically, so you could wrap yours around him to tie it in the back, bodies mere inches away from one another. He somehow had the courage to watch your face the entire time, but you bashfully avoided his gaze, choosing to concentrate on the task at hand. Once you finished, you looked up at him, though. To offer him a smile.

But what caught his attention was the fact that he finally knew, now, what the color of your eyes were. They seemed a lot different than when he first saw you. Different shades swirled around your pupils in such harmony that he decided that, from then on, he'd associate these colors with you and with you only. You aimed your gaze at him with something so distinguished he couldn't quite decipher what it was, suddenly and momentarily losing his profiling abilities. Spencer knew immediately that he could never shake that moment from his memory. Then, he also noticed that you had a smudge of flour on your cheek, but he didn't have the heart to tell you to clean it up, too stuck in the warmth of your gaze. He thought of it as a reminder of what you were doing, the moment you were sharing together.

He smiled back at you.

"Okay, I guess that's it, then," you announced, voice barely above a whisper, finally. He felt both relieved and deprived from the sweet torture you put him in. He wanted to be under your spell for longer, but he worried he would be too entranced and make a fool out of himself. "First, I'm gonna divide it in half. Oh, wait. What do you want to eat? I have shrimp, chicken and minced meat. But I can also try to do something vegetarian if you don't eat meat." You blabbered inconsistently, jumping from one topic to another, our eyebrows flying to your forehead in concern for a moment.

"It's okay," he soothed you, "I'll have anything." He added softly.

You happily nodded at him. "Alright. So I'm gonna be a good teacher and tell you to use the machine to open it first, but a cook must be skilled enough to know how to open and cut pasta without one of these gems," you said.

He grinned. Cooking classes were not in his weekend bingo, but here he was. Not wishing for anything else. "I'm glad you're walking me through it." He said. "I can hardly boil an egg."

"What? I couldn't tell." You said, faking earnestness, while opening a piece of dough with a roller. You had your eyes on it, rolling the dough on the counter to make sure you'd open it completely. He was mesmerized by your focused expression. Looking at your skilled hands. Watching.

"Really?" He asked, lighting up.

"Yeah, I could. Sorry." You said, snickering, folding the dough on itself to start cutting it. The result was thicker strings of pasta, like fettuccine. "You look like the kind of guy who only eats outside."

"I am." He confided, trying to mimic your previous actions. "Maybe you're the profiler."

"Nah, just a real observant neighbor." He laughed. "Hey, you're doing alright." You told him once you saw what he was doing. Your stare was on his hands. Oh. His deft hands, albeit not accustomed to the task, worked dexterously, flexing the veins on his forearm. You shook your head lightly as an attempt to get rid of the thoughts, glad he wasn't paying attention to you.

Being with you, he realized, was easy. He condemned himself for overthinking the advice Penelope had given him earlier about asking you out today, because she planned on taking Olivia out. He had decided not to under the excuse that a case might pop at any second, but the truth was he was too afraid to be rejected. 

"Okay, so you can open the dough, Doctor. Good job!" You teased as you watched him use the machine instead of the rolling pin like you did.

"I'm decent at it, yeah," he quipped.

Spencer Reid being able to take and to crack jokes about himself. He decided then that he liked jokes, he liked your banter, but because you weren't mean to him.

Something in him finally started to heal.

"Alright." You placed yourself beside him. He gulped at the closeness. "See how I'm doing with my hands." Was it appropriate to answer that he hadn't looked away not even for a second? "You wanna fold it over and over. Careful not to stick it, though, so be gentle. You can use a little flour to help you. Wanna give it a try?"

He only nodded and you helped him fold it. He wasn't as skillful as you were — hell, your movements seemed rehearsed from how much ease you had at doing them. He was a little slower, but he moved in an effective way. "Careful not to cut yourself, Spencer." You whispered to him, to which he hummed weakly.

"Is there a right way to hold the knife?" He asked, turning his head to look at you.

Your reply was to touch his right hand, the one holding the knife, and closed his fingers around its base. Grabbing his left hand, you curled his fingers on top of the dough, and, slowly, pushed the knife down to cut it. "See?" You pulled the cut dough, revealing a string.

He wondered hastily if he could have some more time with your hands on top of his. Your delicate hands, even dirty, beat every single texture he had felt on top of his. Spencer couldn't answer anything. "Okay! Now we can set them to dry."

"Where?" He asked, robotically. You grinned.

"We gotta find somewhere." You chuckled. "By the way, it's best if we keep them away from the others." You advised.

"Why is that?" He inquired, intrigued look on his face.

"I, um, made some with eggs, you know, the traditional one." You bit your lip. "I also made a recipe with no eggs in case you had any restrictions."

Usually, he'd be speechless, not used to being treated like this. Not being one people usually thought of so intentionally, so dearly, so full of carefully. He noticed, though, that as he spent time with you in your kitchen, every one of your actions peeled away some of his issues. Then, "Oh, wow." He said, a hint of a cocky expression dancing around his features. If you kept that attitude, he might even become greedy. He remembered about your so-called miscalculation for the second time.

You finished up the meal in an instant, too fast for Spencer's liking. He was observant, of course, and you made sure to tell him about what you were doing and why you were doing every step of the way, like he was a child acquiring language. He was a grown man learning how to be around you, studying your every movement and engraving it to his memory, trying harder than he ever did when learning English (or other languages). Those came to him naturally. You, on the other hand, were full of patterns he didn't quite know yet — not that he wasn't dying to.

"Okay. We're done." You said, softly, plating the meal on two white plates. "Do you want to sit with me on the balcony?"

"Yes."

"Be there in a second. Make yourself at home."

His face lit up. Joy and embarrassment fighting to control him.

As he left with the plates in hand, which was a little funny to you, you cleaned up the mess in the kitchen as much as you could. You glanced at Spencer, meticulously placing the plates on the table to help you out. You couldn't control the sigh that made its way out of you, out of the very depths of your being.

Sitting down with him after you both ate to your heart's content, he complimented you. "It's not very often that I get to eat this well." He chuckled. "And you're a good chef. You make things efficiently and neatly." He said, looking at you. You looked straight ahead, longingly, into the city.

You shrunk your shoulders, a little embarrassed. Was he flirting? His words were completely different from what you used to consider flirting. Too analytical, too technical. "Thanks!" You exclaimed, albeit meekly.

Silence.

Spencer was rummaging through his big brain for something to say. You were, sort of, deflating from basically carrying the interaction all night long. Letting too many thoughts consume you all at once. "I'm not really an interesting person, so I'm not sure what I should say," he chuckled, a little disappointed by having your attention somewhere else.

Your heart probably doubled in size.

You crossed your legs on the chair. "I think you are an interesting person," you said softly, looking at him. "And I think there's no shame in being silent. It's nice. I know you like it."

His heart was making somersaults in his chest.

"Yeah..." he chuckled. “But I’d like to talk to you.”

"Try me! Penny said you can do magic, good ice-breaker. It's so nice, but so baffling!" You gushed. "I can't even do the classic trick, that one that you're supposed to be pretending to pull your thumb off. Olivia says I'm not convincing enough." You laughed, shooking your head and squinting at him. "Can you believe that?"

"She's a very bright kid." He said, amused. "It must be hard tricking her."

"Yeah, it is."

"Where is she, by the way?"

"Penelope asked to take her out. Pasta time was supposed to be time spent with her. But I guess you're a good substitute."

Again, Penelope was onto something. That was when he knew for sure that his theory from earlier was correct.

"Can I tell you something?" He decided to be honest, instead.

"Is everything alright?" You ask, searching his face for something that told you if there was something wrong.

"Yes! Yes! Everything's fine." He blurted. "It's just that, earlier, Penelope was, ahem, encouraging me to ask you out on a... date. I kept thinking about it and maybe I actually overthinked everything and ended up making excuses not to ask you out.”

You were taken aback by his words. You blinked once, not expecting his words, those words, and failing at trying to slow the racing of your heart and at stopping the smile creeping up on your face. “It's… it's no problem. Don't worry.”

Spencer couldn't help but glance over, listening attentively to your reply. Your words struck a softer tone, a side of you that was filled with warmth and genuine affection — he was estranged to it, not being used to being so understood. It caught him off guard. He watched from his seat, his heart still aching from feeling scared, but filled with a new emotion he couldn't quite pinpoint yet. “Would you, um, would you say yes?”

“To what?” You faked coyness, but you knew he could see right through you. You weren’t a good actress.

He smirked, encouraged by your playful mannerisms. “If I asked you on a date.”

“Well, yes.”

Oh, so it was bravery. He felt it completely, now.

A deep breath from his end. “Would you like to go out with me?”

“There's nothing I would want more.” You replied, tone full of mischief, but your eyes held all the truth he needed to confirm that he was actually going to spend time with you in a more… romantic, perhaps private setting. “Does that count as a yes?”

Spencer was hyper-aware of himself and his reality. Therefore, used to his own little life and the trauma and suffering that came with it, he had grown accustomed to the thought that romance was far out of his reach—  stories only told by books and didn’t, couldn’t exist in real life, in his life; writers were just too idealistic. Thus, being used to those thoughts, but secretly refusing to take them as the sole truth of his life, romance came to him in the shape of silly scenarios to help him fall asleep. Now, he was suddenly changing his mind, relieved to see that it could be real.

He was immensely glad for your bravery. He wanted some of it. Needed, even.

“It's the prettiest yes someone has ever said to me.”

“Glad to hear that, Spencer.”

“I just feel a little embarrassed by not having the courage to ask you earlier.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, again, with an adoring look in your eyes, gazing at him, “we can share courage when things get too much.”

“Hey!” Olivia greeted once Spencer opened his door after her persistent, but gentle knocking. He looked around, but you were nowhere to be found. He crouched down to her height. “Here’s a sticker. Mommy said you were very brave last night.” She placed the adhesive on his vest, a star shaped sticker. “Here’s other sticker. Mommy also said you were helpful.” She said, adorning his vest once again.

Oh, my God, he thought, even her daughter knows.

He chuckled, not having it in himself to let the opportunity to joke go. “Oh, so we get rewards for good behavior?”

Olivia nodded. “Yes, we do. When I get five, mommy gets me something I want. Usually cookies.” She replied, sounding satisfied with herself.

“Thank you, Olivia. I'm gonna make sure to keep them so I'll know when it's time to ask for my gift.” He said, ruffling her hair playfully.

At the conference room, Aaron Hotchner couldn't help but frown at the sight of the extra accessories on one of his agents’ vest, almost interrupting his briefing in order to address the topic to quench his curiosity. “Reid, why do you have star stickers on?”

He shrugged, failing at disguising his happiness, the corners of his lips curving up. “These were a gift.”

He was brave.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Trapped Inside

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: Bucky takes you away.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Bucky puts the tray of processed mac and cheese before you. You stare at the steam coming off of it. He has a fork in his other hand but hesitates to hand it over. 

“For the food only,” he finally sets it down. 

You pout, “Bucky, I wouldn’t...” you sink your chin down, “you know...” 

“I do,” he agrees with a sigh. He pulls out the chair across from you. “Let’s talk.” 

You sniffle and scratch your nose. You fight back tears as you keep your eyes on the noodles. You slowly take the fork and stir in the cheese. 

“Do you have ketchup?” You ask. 

He sucks in a breath then clucks, “sorry, no.” 

You swallow and shrug, ��that’s okay.” 

He shifts and leans on his elbows, clutching one forearm as he crosses his arms. He taps his fingers on the table. He tilts his head, “will you look at me?” 

Your lashes flutter and you obey. The last time you disobeyed him, he put you in a trunk. Your face contorts at that thought but you quickly tamp down the fear. 

“Don’t... I’m not a monster,” he says. 

You can’t say anything. You’re not sure about that anymore. Not sitting here in this strange underground bunker. 

“I’m your friend,” he continues, “is it so bad that I want more? That I like you so much that--” 

“No,” you blubber and quickly swipe away the tears as the spill. “No, if you were my friend you would listen to me.” 

“Doll, where’s the fairness in that when you won’t listen to me?” His voice deepens. 

“I did and I just... that’s not what I want. It’s not what I’m looking for--” 

“I told you the same thing and you made me go on that date with that prissy bitch,” he snaps. You reel back in the chair and drop the fork, stunned by his harsh tone. He cringes and sits up, raising his palms as he calms himself. “Look, I said it over and over. That you were enough. You are enough for me, dreamy. You are everything to me.” 

Your lip trembles and your chest locks up. Breathing hurts. You shrink down and mop your cheeks with your fingers, unable to stop the flow. It’s all broken now. There’s no going back. Why did he have to ruin it? You never meant to put that idea in his head. 

“Dreamy,” he rasps and stands, “don’t cry, please--” 

You flinch and hug yourself with a whimper. He staggers before he can come closer. He shakes his head, “no, no, you’re not going to make me feel that way. I haven’t hurt you.” 

“You have,” you garble. “You... you... grabbed me and put me in the trunk and...” 

“Because you need me. You need—You don’t get it. You don’t get it because you assume the best in everyone and everything. Even me. The world isn’t going to be nice forever.” 

You snivel and try to suck back the deluge. You lower your eyes and steady your breath. You’re shaking as your grief is drowned out by something else. Anger. 

“Like you.” 

“Me?” He hisses and strides around the table. 

You look up at him defiantly and furrow your nose like a rabid dog, “yes, you. You couldn’t just be nice. You couldn’t just take no for an answer.” 

“What about you? It wouldn’t be like this if we didn’t go on that damn date!” 

“No,” you snarl. 

“Dreamy,” he points in your face, “watch it.” 

You snap your mouth shut and wince. You stare at his finger then look him in the face, “or what?” 

“You called Sam behind my back--” 

“No, you threatened me,” you stand up. “What are you going to do now, huh? You already trapped me, so what else is left?” 

“Dreamy, come on,” he grits. 

“Don’t,” you sneer. “You don’t know how the world’s been to me. You don’t know that it’s always been nice. You just assume because you hate everything that everyone should. Well, I’ve seen hate and I don’t like it! Why do you think I’m alone? It’s not because the world is nice?” 

You blink and glare up at him. Beneath all your frustration, embarrassment needles through. You shake your head and back away. He blocks you and grabs your arm. 

“Dreamy, you never said. We’re friends so why--” 

“No, we’re not,” you say. “You just want to use me, like everyone does.” 

“That isn’t what this is.” 

“Leave me alone,” you rip away from him and turn to swipe the tray off the table. “Just go away.”  

You stomp away, bracing for him to grab you. He doesn’t. You cross the room and stop before the wall. There’s nowhere for you to go. You turn and pace one way, then the other. You sense him across the space, watching. 

He gets down to clean up the mess. You ignore him as best you can. You walk in circles, driving yourself mad as reality bubbles up around you. He’s not going to let you go. Even if you hate him. If you could bring yourself to feel that. 

You don’t see him and dare to peek over. He’s gone. You hear movement but don’t know where it’s coming from. Good, he can keep himself busy. 

You go to the door and stare at the barrier. If only you had a metal arm. Your eyes burn again. You drop your head and turn your back to it. You can’t just stare a hole through it. 

You press your back against the metal and slide down to your bottom. You bend your knees to your chest and hug them. You bow your head and let the sobbing shake through you. 

The tears build a wall between you and the world. The sadness aches in your skull and scrapes in your throat. You heave until you’re spent and shivering. 

There’s a click and the flames licks louder. You turn your head to look at the artificial fireplace. “Cold in here,” Bucky says. You close your eyes. “Got the bed made up. You’re tired. You need some good sleep.” 

You don’t answer him as you turn your face down. You stay entirely still. You don’t have the strength to move. You'll sleep right here. You don’t want his guilt. Not when he won’t change what he did. That’s not guilt, that’s greed. 

He nears and you squeeze your eyes tight. He scoops you up and you stay rigid. He carries you through the safe house as you stay closed up inside yourself. He puts on something soft but you don’t let go. You hide in the darkness, wishing that there was light left to see. 

[dailymanners]

If your job requires emailing at all, I've also picked up a few methods for responding to rude emails.

In my current job I strictly work B2B (business to business) and before this job had only worked retail and food service. I thought when I broke into office work that I was finally done with, well, the types of things you deal with in public facing customer service roles (the constant rudeness, dehumanization, unnecessary hostility, etc you know) but unfortunately after nearly two years sending and receiving emails in a B2B setting I regret to inform you that people are still rude dehumanizing jerks even when you are both professionals at work representing your own respective companies.

So, here's a few firm yet professional replies I've picked up.

If you are emailing with a supplier (as in a situation where *you* are the client) obviously you still need them to function at your job so you still need to be professional and remain on good terms with them, but unfortunately with the way things work when you are the client you do get a little more leeway in being firm and standing up for yourself. My go-to response when a supplier is being out of line rude / unprofessional / disrespectful is:

"Unfortunately I have to express disappointment at the lack of professional tone in your email."

Every time I've used this with a supplier I get an apology and a change of tone from thereon. You don't want to escalate the aggressive tone in a work related email, that never ends well, once they drag you down to their level there's no coming back from the fact that you just normalized the aggressive and unprofessional tone of your email communications with this supplier, so you want to keep the "high ground" so to speak. When you keep on the high ground instead you can shift the tone back to professional and courteous, which obviously makes your job easier.

However, you're still not letting them off the hook or just letting it slide with expressing your disappointment, and it's also good to be (professionally) putting your foot down and calling out the behavior so they don't get the idea that they can throw tantrums at you again in the future in a professional setting.

Handling rude and unprofessional emails from clients is obviously more tricky, because depending on what industry you're in the power dynamics are typically shifted more in their favor, so you have to watch your tone a little more.

I'm lucky enough that at my job I'm not only part of a union, but I have a boss who takes my side when clients are being unreasonable and unprofessional, so I can get away with a:

"Let's keep the tone of our communications professional, shall we?"

It still has a bit of a "customer service" tone to it, it still gives you the high ground (again, you don't want to sink down to their level and normalize rude / petty / hostile interactions with this client, it will make your job harder and more stressful if you do) but it does still address the behavior and let them know you're not just letting it slide.

Tips and ideas for how to respond when someone is being rude to you

For personal reasons I won't get into, I have a history of just freezing when some is rude / hostile / aggressive / condescending / patronizing / etc. It's obviously not something I'm happy about at all, most people who freeze or fawn aren't happy about it and would change it if they could.

One day I confided in my co-worker, a middle aged woman in her 50's, that this is something I struggle with. Considering how confident and assertive she always struck me as, I was shocked when she told me this is also something she's struggled with.

The advice she gave me is to just memorize and practice a few broad statements or reactions that you can pull out of your pocket so to speak when someone is being rude or disrespectful to you. It's not easy if you're someone who's been conditioned to freeze or fawn, but practice helps. Practice saying these things when you're alone. Put up a sticky note next to your bed or on your bathroom mirror with these phrases and practice them when you see them. Practice saying these with a partner or trusted friend, role-play scenarios where you might need to use these phrases.

Here's a few phrases that have worked for me. The nice thing about them is that they tend to shut down the situation rather than escalating, while still letting the aggressor know that you don't find their behavior acceptable.

"Are you okay?"

This works well in professional settings, because it's not like your work place's residential bully can run to HR about you asking if they're okay (but they might if you try to retaliate and give them a taste of their own medicine). However, it still effectively sends the message "I think there's something wrong with your behavior and don't accept it". It's also not likely the response they're expecting, so it'll likely throw them off and prevent further verbal aggression.

"Could you repeat that for me? I didn't catch what you said."

This one is most effective for people you believe to actually have a conscious and might regret what they said if they actually thought about it a little more. I find that often when I do this one, when people repeat the rude/snippy/patronizing/etc thing they either shamefully stumble over their words and show some remorse, or they change altogether what they say. In the off chance they don't regret what they said and end up repeating exactly what they said, this at least buys you some time to think of a better reaction since you're no longer caught off guard by a sudden rude and snippy remark.

"Can you explain what you mean by that?"

Similar logic to the last one. Often when people are being rude/snippy/patronizing/etc they're caught up in their own emotions in that moment and didn't think it through. This is a polite and civil way of putting their rude behavior in the spotlight and making them reconsider what they said. The other advantage to this one is that in case you did misread their intentions and they meant no harm by what they said or did, this gives them an opportunity to clarify that, instead of you just feeling bad over a statement or actions they actually had no ill intentions with.

If anyone has any further examples of reactions / responses / statements that have worked for them, I'd love to hear about them. I'm new to studying the art of how to civilly yet effectively shut down bad behavior from others, so I'm always open to hearing more suggestions.

[wosowffc]

CAN SOMEONE HELP

Tw seizure

You and Leah had been living together over the last few weeks as you have just recently moved to Arsenal from munic so knowing Georgia reckoned it was a good idea a you can't live alone.

Leah has been amazing company and you had grown very close in such a small time. The girls had immediately starting taking notice of this and soon enough you and leha had too. She asked you out on a date to a roof top picnic at night and it was perfect we walked home with pizza and watch a movie.

Today we had one of our freinds wedding whos very close to the team so as a result we are all invited. It's in this historical magical looking castle grounds where streamers and strung and music is thriving after about 4 hours of speaches, the best part of weddings (not) we finally were on the dance floor all half cut. I'm not ment to drink as I take tablets but after backlash of me and leahs relationship and theories from fans as we still haven't even made it public I needed this drink well drinks (I'm quite far in)

"Ynnnn, Heyy gurllll" an equally drunk Katie McCabe comes up to me ushering me to dance with her which my drunken self happy accepted as me and the girl danced I started to feel a bit...off?

I recongnised the felling even though my drunken self drunk phased head I now this feeling. I ripped myself awy from the group to see Leah just at the side with alessia as they grabbed some wine.

"Leah" I said desperate as u grabbed her arms not even caring how I shoved between alessia as they were talking about some random stuff.

"Leah I need....leave we...not here" you words started to slur as you got weaker"Leah I should have said before, I'm sorry please." "Leah please don't be mad" you say as you fall into leahs chest her arms wrapping around you.

Leahs pov

Yn stumble toward me she was drunk yes, but this isn't her drunk stumble she takes a hold of me between alessia I wrap my arms round her back her words are slurring. I don't think this is alcohol. I know she doesn't slur when drunk I know that after the first team get together her and Katie ahd a drink off but that's for a diffrent time cause with in seconds she was dead weight against my chest as I held her.

"SHIT, less help , can someone help me" I had carried her and ran to a room to the side alessia following on the phone to paramedics as soon as I laid her down she started shaking. Violently. Her jaw clenched, arms straight by her side and all over convulsing. Alessia was saying stuff I didn't know what I was sat on my knees next to her as she was making noises and I stroked her hair back.

"Leah move please I know what to do " less ushered her away handing her the phone as the paramedics spoke to her through the phone. She put yn on her side wiping some spit away from her mouth and cheek. She lied her head so she could breathe a bit better clearing up some of the noises.

Yn pov

There were voices, they were telling me stuff saying everything's ok. I open my eyes I'm on my side on the floor everything hurts. I've had a siezure. I blink I blurring my vision to see Leah at my head she's talking calmly

"It's ok we're going to lay there for a bit ok?" She said more of a stamens but made it sound like a question. Tears trickle down my cheek to me ear and she turns more concerned.

"I'm sorry, please I'm- I should have told you le- I'm sorry" I apologise holdin her hand

"Yn it's ok we found the medical band on your ankle it's ok, I'm here when ever you need you can teach me what to do and when ever you need I'll be there"

You sit into her lap for a while in silence as tiredness takes over. Leah carries you to bed in the hotel and settles in next to you.

She rubs your back as you softly breathe next to her. She wish you would have told her, she didn't want you to feel like you couldn't. But she's here now and she knows so she will learn and she will help you when ever

[revelboo]

Everyone else: yearning, hating, yearning, pining, yearning and pining.

Rumble: DAY ONE MAKEOUT BABYYYYY

And then some 😆 18+ 🌶️

Alcohol Eyes Pt 3

Rumble x Reader

• Venting raggedly against your throat, he doesn’t want to move. Especially feeling the way your thighs are trembling under him and the way you smile lazily at him, your cheek resting on an outstretched arm. Lips mouthing your skin, tasting salt, he listens to that warm, throaty laugh. “Careful. I might just take you home with me if you keep that up.” Is that an option? And why would you think he doesn’t want to continue whatever this is? “You alone, Rumble?”

• You feel like you can almost see the guy’s eyes through that red visor. With how dim the store room is, it’s hard to be sure. He’ll probably think you were joking, but really? Your new friend fucks like an animal. Definitely not a quickie one and done like your ex. And taking him home? Keeping him at least a few days to get him out of your system by getting him into your bed? Oh, so tempting an idea. “I’m with you,” he murmurs, hips rocking against you. Ready to go again already? This guy isn’t human.

• Groaning as he grips your hips and begins lazily thrusting again, he watches you shiver and close your eyes with a low, needy sound. It’s the sound of the doorknob rattling that makes his movements falter, lip lifting to bare denta as someone bangs on the door. “You better have fucking clothes on by the time I get this door open,” someone’s yelling and your human starts laughing, reaching back to push against his shoulder. “Party’s over, champ.” Over?

• Pushing a little more firmly, Rumble finally slides out of you, turning away as you shove off of the container you’d been using. You can’t make out the writing on it, but sincerely hope it’s not foodstuffs, because you both made a mess. Hurriedly righting your clothes and trying to ignore his excess running down the inside of your thighs, you glance at him. He’s already fixed his costume, hiding your new favorite part of him. “Ready for the walk of shame?” You ask, offering him a hand. Because awkward is easiest when you pretend you don’t care at all and it warms you when he plays along, seizing your hand like he’s afraid you’re going to bolt and leave him.

• Apparently whoever had yelled at them and banged on the door had made enough noise to draw a curious crowd. Walk of shame? Grinning crookedly, he pointedly stares down the gawking organics, because why should he care that they know you’re his? Until he spots Frenzy, his twin’s mouth hanging open. That sours his amusement some, especially as Frenzy stalks over. “What are you doing?”

• There’s two of them, attention sliding from their matching costumes to their similar, gray painted faces, you decide they must be brothers and the thought sends your deviant brain spinning with the impulse to invite them both home. Especially when you notice your ex in the crowd of onlookers whispering and snickering at you both. He’s not laughing, though as his hands work at his sides like he’s itching to get them on you. Like he thinks you’re still his. And you lift your chin, even as you shift closer to Rumble. Because he’s never putting his hands on you ever again. “He’s coming home with me,” you tell his brother, seeing Rumble grin from the corner of his eye. “I’m borrowing him for the night. Maybe all week.” That part you say louder just for your ex, flashing him a sweet smile as he glares at you, that look promising you’ll have new scars the minute he gets you alone again. And Rumble’s fingers tighten on yours, that grin of his just like a kid turned loose in a candy store as his brother stares between you two in almost comical disbelief.

Previous

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

A Weekend at the Weasley's

| George Weasley x ravenclaw!reader

summary: you and george become best friends after a poorly timed prank. george has been pestering you for weeks to stay with him at the Burrow for a weekend over the holidays, and you finally cave.

cw: smut (18+), dead parents, pining, Percy being a weirdo, quidditch injury and bruising, george still has two ears and a twin, lots of dirty talk and petnames, equal parts fluff and smut

an: george and reader are over eighteen in this fic. timeline is def wrong. but who caaaaaaares bc it's not me!

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“C’mon, feathers,” George begged, shifting from his place on the couch to kneeling on the floor in front of you. “I promise you’ll enjoy yourself.”

“George, I don’t—”

“Would I ever put you in harm’s way?”

You scoffed. “Well, there was the time you lit my potions homework on fire, and the time you transfigured my chocolate frog into an actual frog. Or the time you and Fred—”

“Besides that!” He huffed, resting his chin on your knees, blinking up at you with round eyes. “Pleeeeaaasssseee, y/n? Come to the Burrow with me.”

You sighed, ignoring the way the Gryffindor common room fireplace made his brown eyes almost golden, freshly brewed espresso with nutty foam. You couldn’t deny George was handsome, most girls at Hogwarts fawned over him or his twin, or both. But George was your friend, as you often repeated to yourself in moments like these, when that mischievous smirk softened to a smile just for you.

“Bloody hell. Fine!” You shoved him off of you to escape his puppy-eyed trap.

“Yes!” He whooped, jumping to his feet. “It’s about time my mum meets my best girl—shit!”

You chucked your Potions books at his head. “Not your girl,” you huffed.

“Says you,” he teased, returning the book to you before flopping back down on the red couch, legs draped across your lap.

“Read the damn pages, Weasley.”

You tried to reimmerse yourself in your studies, but can’t seem to fall back into the reading, losing track of each sentence before it’s finished. George had been pestering you for weeks to spend a portion of the upcoming holiday break with him at the Weasley household, and up until now, you’d successfully resisted. But then he found out your grandparents were going on a trip to Spain for two weeks and became unbearable.

When George set his mind to something, he was stubborn as an ox.

And, despite yourself, you wanted to spend a few more days with him. You loved the Weasley siblings you’d met at school, and heard countless tales of Molly Weasley’s unbelievable Sunday roasts. It couldn’t be that bad, could it?

You were reserved by a nature, a studious and creative Ravenclaw from a muggle household. All things that stood at odds with one, ginger-haired George Weasley. But when a prank in fourth year set for Professor Snape backfired on you, his top student, and ruined your robes, the twins felt so awful they’d taken you to the Three Broomsticks for what George dubbed a “Butterbeer of Forgiveness”.

An unexpected friendship bloomed, and you’d been close with the twin’s ever since, George in particular. You loved Fred, and had countless memories with him, but you and George connected on a deeper level. From the moment you’d met, it was as if you’d always known one another. You could read him almost as well as Fred could, and George could read you better than anyone.

It was unnerving, exhilirating, and by far the most important relationship in your young life. Which is why you squashed any wandering thought about his freckles, his jawline, the way his forearms flexed while he read, or the way his chest heaved after a Quidditch match, his hands spidered with veins after hours of gripping the Beater’s Bat.

And when he called you things like his ‘best girl’, it turned your knees to jelly, your mind inside out. There was no way you’d finish your work now.

“I’m going back to the Tower. I have no idea how you Gryffindor’s get any work done with all this gold.” You stuffed your books into you back and stood, adjusting your robes.

“I’ll walk you,” George said, tossing his book aside. It looked like he hadn’t made any progress either.

“No, no. Finish your work. I’ll meet you in the Great Hall for breakfast, bags packed.”

“It’s a date!” He called as you walk away, and you can practically hear the grin on his face.

“Not a date!” You tossed over your shoulder as you stepped through the portrait.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“My darlings!” Molly cooed, collecting her youngest two children into a massive hug at the train station terminal. You hid behind George, hoping somehow that she’d overlook your presence entirely. But of course, George wasn’t having it.

“Mum, this is y/n!” He grabbed you by the shoulders and thrust you out in front.

“George,” you hissed, but Molly was already upon you.

“Oh, y/n! I’ve heard so much about you! It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you. We were absolutely delighted when George’s letter arrived telling us you’d be accompanying him,” she chirped, fussing with your h/c hair and blue and bronze scarf.

“It’s lovely to meet you too, Mrs. Weasley,” you said, smiling at her and her quieter husband, who was busy chatting with Harry and Ron.

George slung an arm over your shoulder, wafting his cinnamon-y cologne over you. “Shall we?”

You scowled up at him as he dragged you along behind his family, oblivious to your hesitation, or willfully ignoring it.

The crowded car ride home was chaotic, with everyone speaking loudly over one another, George and Fred the loudest of all in either ear, and by the time you arrived, you heart was thrumming loudly in your head, your chest tight with anxiety.

All you could think about was throwing yourself out of the car door and running back to Hogwarts on foot.

Everyone poured out of the car, bounding across the lawn and up to the slightly crooked, red-roofed home, smoke buffeting cheerfully from the many chimneys.

“Y/n?” George said, pausing when he realized you weren’t in step beside him. Something in your expression gave you away, and his smile fell. “Hey, what is it?” he asked, jogging back towards you and placing his hands on your arms.

“I, it’s…” words failed you as emotion pinched your throat.

“Too much?” he asked, giving you a sympathetic smile.

You nodded, shame scorching your cheeks as you looked down at your feet. The tips of his boots were touching yours, so much larger, a worn brown leather juxtaposing your shining black.

“It’s going to be alright, love,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to warm you up. “It means a lot to me that you’re here, even if it’s a bit overwhelming. But, hey—” he tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at his handsome, wind-bitten face. “They love you already.”

“You told them about me?” You asked, your nerves alchemizing from wasps to butterflies.

“Of course I did.” He chuckled like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “They’re probably sick to death of hearing about you, honestly.”

“Like how I’ve been tutoring you in Potions for two years?” you taunted.

“I’m sure they assumed after I told them your were the brightest witch in our year.” His eyes twinkled with mischief, ginger hair falling across his brow, and your heart gave a new sort of thump. One that made you a bit queasy with it’s intensity.

“I don’t know about brightest,” you argued as he tucked you under his arm once again, leading you toward the open front door.

“I do,” he murmured, ushering you inside and into his mother’s waiting embrace.

“C’mere, sweetheart. Help me with these rolls.” She tugged you down the hall, leaving George to be ambushed by his brothers.

“Who’s the eagle?” You heard what you assumed it be the eldest ask before you were whisked into the hearth-like kitchen.

Twenty minutes later and you were back at George’s side, sandwiched between him and Ginny at the dinner table, while everyone fought for a foothold in the conversation.

George’s thigh was warm against your own, familiar and grounding, and you resisted the urge to lean into him fully for shelter. Dutifully, he started filling both of your plates as dishes went by, allowing you to sit and take it all in. He snagged the bowl of garlic potatoes from Ron and added a giant scoop to your plate, knowing they were your favorite.

“Thank you,” you mumbled to him, and he gave your shoulder a light bump in response.

“So, y/n. George mentioned you’re a Potions whiz?” Arthur asked through a mouthful of roll.

Heat crept up your neck as everyone’s attention swiveled to you. “It’s my favorite subject, yes sir,” you answered sheepishly.

“She passed her Potions O.W.L. in fourth year,” George said proudly, beaming down at you. “She’s onto custom lesson plans with Snivelus now.”

“George!” Molly corrected, but he only laughed.

“That’s impressive,” Percy said, nodding at you from across the table. “Brilliant and beautiful.”

“I, uh, thanks,” you stutter, stuffing a forkful of potatoes into your mouth.

George stiffened, but his smile never wavered. “That she is.”

“So, what do your parents do? Were they in Ravenclaw as well?” Arthur asked.

The blood drained from your face. You had so hoped this wouldn’t come up.

George’s hand fell onto your leg, his long fingers looping around your pinky and twining your hand with his. “She lives with her grandparents. Muggles,” George said, the finality in his tone ensuring there would be no further questions.

Arthur stuttered an apology, and the rest of the table looked away nervously. But Molly smiled proudly at her son, a slightly flush to her round cheeks.

Again, your heart gave that brutal pang, and your hand squeezed his a little more tightly.

The meal continued on, and you blessedly fell into the background while the other’s talked about their work and the school year. Or, you at least thought you fell into the background, but every time you glanced up, you found Percy’s gaze lingering on you, hawkish.

You had met the third eldest brother on many occasions, as he often escorted you from the Gryffindor common room to the Tower when curfew struck. But he’d never looked at you like that. And frankly, it made your skin crawl.

You weren’t naive. You knew you were beautiful, intelligent, witty, all of the things that drew a wandering eye. But Percy was far from someone you’d be interested in. And you were here with George, after all, even if it was for purely platonic reasons.

You shifted a little when Percy’s gaze lingered a fraction too long, and accidentally alerted George to your discomfort. He leaned down towards you, his height ensuring your head barely reached his shoulder.

“Okay, feathers?” He murmured, but caught Percy flinching his gaze away at the same moment. “Percy bothering you?” he whispered, and you shook your head no. An obvious lie by the way you shifted marginally closer to George when Percy’s gaze returned. “I’ll handle it.” George straightened, slipping back into his ongoing conversation with Fred and Charlie, but you felt his hand skim past your leg, brushing against your calf as he reached for his wand.

The contact sent a tremor through your muscles, your nerves stretching towards every point of contact with him until it was all you could think about.

“George, what are you—”

He coughed something that sounded an awful lot like ‘incendio’ into his elbow, wand hand flicking under the table at the same moment. Percy leapt up, the crotch of his trousers igniting with flame.

Everyone but you and the twins scrambled up, Molly quickly tossing the cauldron of water at Percy’s pants.

“Could’ve been a little more subtle,” Fred chastised George with a smirk.

“I wasn’t going for subtlety,” George replied. “I was going for ‘burning his bollocks off’.”

You hide your snicker behind your hand, the last of your anxiety unraveling. George was with you, you were safe.

Once the fire was out, dinner was disbanded with the twins being sentenced to dishes duty, since it had to be one of them that set their brother’s trousers on fire. You were whisked off on a house tour by Ginny, who eagerly showed you the in’s and out’s of the Burrow until you were dragging your feet, eyes heavy with exhaustion. But you had to admit that you were feeling more at ease, the Burrow and it’s residents wrapping around you like a favorite blanket.

You collapsed into bed just after midnight, a flickering glow in your chest, and a red-haired trickster in your thoughts.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Two more days passed at the Weasley residence, filled with games, oversized meals, books, and antics. There was never a dull moment with the twins and Charlie around.

But the best part, by far, was watching George’s mischevious walls come down, and seeing the softer, more relaxed version of him step forth. He was a devoted brother and son, often forgoing his own needs to help his mother reach something in the kitchen, or offer Ron a bit of girl advice. He spent many hours in deep conversation with is father and older brothers, speaking to a wide breadth of subjects you had no idea he had any knowledge about.

George, that bottomless bundle of fizzing energy, seemed even more lively around his favorite people, his heart on full display. And, if you were honest, it was doing funny things to your head and heart.

You found yourself searching for his eyes across the room, smiling at silly things he’d said hours prior, ghosting your fingers over the places he’d brushed against you while passing by. You’d even take a whiff of his coat when he’d come in after a walk with Charlie and tossed it onto the banister.

He seemed older somehow, more mature than you’d ever given him credit for, and it was undoing the years of resolve you’d cultivated to preserve your friendship.

It didn’t help that he constantly referred to you as ‘his girl’, and any number of tooth-aching pet names. Could he really mean it? You always assumed it was part of some joke you were the butt of, but now…

“George and y/n!” Molly called across the dinner table, breaking you from your thoughts. “Dishes, please!”

Your heart skipped a beat. You and George hadn’t had a moment alone since you’d arrived, and you were eager to soak up some undivided attention.

“Yes, ma’am,” George said cheerfully, rising to start collecting the plates. You hopped up to join him, and everyone else filtered out of the kitchen, arguing about what game to play that evening.

You scrapped while he scrubbed, and fell into easy conversation about the past few days.

“My mum really loves you, y’know,” he said, dunking a plate under the soapy water. “Dad too. He was raving about your thoughts on electric kettles yesterday.”

“I like them a lot too,” you replied, turning to hide your blush while tossing a half-eaten roll in the bin.

“Yeah?” he asked, glancing down at you. “I really hope you’re enjoying yourself. I know I sort of forced you to come, and then you were so anxious. And I know the house is loud and drafty, and the meals are a bit chaotic, and fucking Percy can’t keep his damn eyes to himself—”

Not knowing how else to soothe his worries, you stood on your toes and pressed a kiss into his cheek, derailing his rant into stunned silence.

“I’m really glad you brought me, Georgie,” you said, holding his wide-eyed expression for a moment before reaching for another dish.

He caught your wrist in his soapy hand, turning you back towards him. Your heart leapt into your throat at the intensity of his gaze, his jaw feathering with tension as his eyes searched your face. They were so dark, nearly black from his dilated pupils. His dry hand rose slowly, as if afraid you might startle. He dragged the back of his fingers along your cheek before sliding them into the hair at the nape of your neck.

“Tell me if I’ve misread this,” he murmured, tilting your head up towards him, his lips close enough that you could feel his warm breath across your skin. “Tell me to stop.”

Your heart galloped away, your mind turning to goo as the full scope of his longing came into focus. Heat unspooled through you at the way he angled your head to accommodate his towering frame, in complete control, but giving you every opportunity to stop him.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you gave a small shake of your head. No, please don’t stop.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his nose brushing against yours as he drew you closer. You pressed your body to his, desperate for his solidity, his warmth, as you trembled with anticipation. He guided your hand to rest around his neck, and you dug your fingers into his hair.

“George,” you breathed, his name a plea, a desperate prayer.

He closed the last millimeter of distance, caressing your lips with his, a delicate, wishful kiss. More cautious than you’d ever seen him. You tightened your grip on his hair, rising onto your toes to kiss him back a bit harder.

You felt the tension in his body unwind and his hand grasped your waist, his tongue sliding along your lower lip, teasing, promising, and your bones turned to mush, your lower belly fluttering with excitement.

“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat and you sprang away from George, grabbing a plate as if they hadn’t seen what you were doing. Bill leaned against the doorway, a knowing smirk on his face. “Father has requested that y/n joins him for a cuppa before the chess tourney begins. Something about doorbells?”

“Oh! Of course!” You replied, dropping the dish into the sink and drying your hands on the towel over the stove. “Thanks, Bill!” You hurry past the eldest Weasley son, cheeks absolutely flaming.

You could barely hold a conversation with Arthur, to fixated on the way your body hummed in the wake of his son’s touch. You were eager to finish what you’d started, but by the time you and Arthur emerged from his study, George was wrapped up in a game of Wizard’s Chess with Ron.

George’s eyes tracked you as you moved into the room, perching on an armchair by the fireplace. Bill shook his head, elbowing Charlie, who chuckled into his whiskey.

“Y/n, want to play against me?” Fred asked from his spot on the floor, crisscross in front of a chessboard on the coffee table.

“Sure,” you said, happy for the distraction.

“Losers rotate out until the winners from each table play one another,” Fred explained as you sat across from him. “Percy always wins, but he’s sulking in his room.” Fred winked, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

Quickly, you lose yourself in the game, and it doesn’t take long before you have Fred’s Queen cornered, a path to victory clear. In a final move, you take Fred’s Queen and win the game in ten minutes flat.

“Merlin, she kicked your ass!” Ron shouted, and the room bursts into laughter.

You flushed under the praise and start reorganizing the pieces. Despite yourself, your eyes flicked toward George, but found he was already looking at you, a warmth in his dark eyes that made your hands quit working, and you knocked over the piece you just arranged.

“My turn!” Ginny said, shoving Fred out of the way.

“Anyone need anything from the kitchen?” George asked, rising to his feet after swiftly defeating Harry.

A chorus of no’s rang out, but you’re already absorbed into the game, finding that Ginny was much better at chess than Fred. You started to make your third move, finding an opening, when you felt a calloused hand brush along the side of your neck, sliding beneath your hair to rest heavily against your skin.

“Need anything, love?” George whispered in your ear, and the blood rushed from your head, leaving you vaguely dizzy, eyes sparkling when you blinked up at him.

“N-no, I’m fine. Thank you,” you stuttered.

“A tea would be nice, darling brother!” Ginny said, jerking you back to the present, and the move you forgot entirely.

“Coming right up.” George’s hand squeezed your neck lightly before falling away, and he disappeared into the kitchen.

The rest of the night carried on like that, lingering glances and scalding touches, the heat between the two of you bordering on incendiary.

You were taking a small break from kicking Weasley ass when Percy emerged from his room, leveling a challenging glare at George. “I’ll take next round,” he said, fixing Charlie with a look.

“Fine.” George made his final move, knocking over Charlie’s queen. “Have a seat.”

Charlie vacated the spot, muttering something about ‘fucking dorks’, and Percy sat across from his younger brother. The energy shifted in the room, going from jovial and teasing to almost hostile. Weasley’s were competitive by nature, the twins in particular, but the tension heightened considerably beyond that as they sized each other up.

Piece by piece, they started moving around the board, an even match as far as you could tell. But based on the murmurings of the family, Percy was off his game a bit, and you had a feeling it had something to do with the way his eyes kept drifting back towards you.

Interesting, you thought, rising from your place on the couch to circle their table, feigning curiosity in the game. Percy visibly tensed, his eyes darting from you to the board and back again. George, however, relaxed, his typical cocky demeanor easing back into his body language.

Thanks to your distraction, Percy missed an easy move, giving George the first upper hand of the game. You leaned a bit into Percy’s space, and his hands began to tremble. When you walked away, he compensated for his hesitation with a rash move, exposing his Queen.

You knew George noted it but he opted for a subtler move, then leaned back in his chair to watch Percy squirm, a slight smirk on his face. When Percy realized what he’d done, he flushed with irritation, his shoulders squared and tight.

And for my final move…

You leaned down to George, nearly resting your chin on his shoulder. His spiced cologne greeted you, tinged with the cinnamon punch of the firewhiskey he’d been sipping on throughout the games. “I didn’t know you were so good at Wizard’s Chess,” you murmured, close enough that your lips grazed the shell of his ear.

His smirk grew as Percy fidgeted, unable to pick a move, struggling to not stare down your sweater. “I have many talents you’ve yet to experience,” he replied, voice low enough that only you could hear him. A thrill rushed through you, so you bowed out before you took things too far, leaving George to deal the killing blow.

Shortly after, you won your final match against Bill, who you suspected threw the game in your favor, and suddenly it was you sitting across from George, the whole family crowded around the table, watching with bated breath.

“Hello, darling,” George cooed, smiling.

“Weasley,” you clipped, all business.

His eyes flashed at the challenge, and he took a slow sip of whiskey. “Ladies first,” he said, setting the glass down.

You started him off easy, confident that you had this in the bag. George was smart, but most of his skill came from his ability to disarm, not his ability to play chess. You, as it so happened, were skilled at both.

It didn’t take long for George’s cocky smirk to fall, his brow to knit together with focus as you guided him slowly into a trap of your own design.

His brow suddenly quirked up, the corner of his mouth lifting, you knew you’d been caught.

“Clever girl,” he purred, moving his Rook and collapsing the trap you’d spent ten rounds constructing. “Almost had me,” he taunted, leaning back in his chair. His legs reached all the way across to yours in his languid position, his sock feet tapping absently against the legs of your chair.

You only hummed in response, crossing your legs. While searching the board, you stretched your stocking-covered foot towards him, sliding it along the inside of his calf. His muscles tensed for a moment, his eyes widening a fraction, before he settled down, watching you with heavy-lidded eyes.

You made your move, but didn’t stop dragging your foot up and along his knee, skimming his inner thigh. He sat up a little straighter, narrowing his eyes at the board, and you expected him to make his move, when you feel a hand clasp around your ankle, his touch a brand even through your thick stockings. His eyes lifted to yours, and the hunger in them stole your breath.

You’d never seen your sweet, good-natured friend look so menacing.

“I should know better than to play chess with a Ravenclaw,” he said, making a weak play with a pawn. “Starting to feel like I don’t stand a chance.”

His family laughed, reminding you that you were, in fact, completely surrounded by his parents and siblings, and you dropped your foot. That fucking trickster, he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

“I don’t know,” you said, stealing the pawn and trapping his King. “You’re doing better than I expected for a younger twin.”

A chorus off oooh’s met your dig, and George huffed a laugh before freeing his King. “You’ll regret that,” he warned with a devilish smile.

“And you’ll regret that.” George fell right into your trap. You skirted his King, stealing his Queen right out from under him. His jaw dropped, and the family erupted into cheers.

“We have a new champion!” Molly cheered, hauling you up to celebrate.

You grinned, allowing them to parade you around. George smiled up at you, a real, proud smile, and it made your stomach somersault. Then, the grandfather clock chimed midnight, rattling the house on it’s structure.

“Alright, enough excitement! Everyone off to bed!” Molly ordered. George’s eyes locked on you, gauging what you would do next. For the first time, you cursed sharing a room with Ginny, and cursed Fred for being born.

As everyone grabbed their things and scattered off to bed, George managed to catch you at the second stair landing before Ginny’s room, startling you.

“Well played, feathers,” he said, brushing his fingertips over your forearm as he looks up at you.

“You were a formiddable opponent.” You shivered under his touch, the heat from earlier instantly flaring back to life.

He stepped up a stair, bringing himself a head taller than you, close enough that you could smell the fire whiskey on his lips.

Could I taste it too?

“Goodnight, love.” He pressed a quick kiss to your temple before breezing past you and bounding up the next set of steps to his shared room with Fred.

You leaned against the wall to catch your breath, heart pounding in your chest. This was not the turn you expected this trip to take, but you couldn’t pretend that a part of you hadn’t wished for it. That it wasn’t why you tried so hard to avoid the trip all together.

But now that you and George had crossed that line, you couldn’t imagine what you’d been so afraid of. You only wished you’d done it sooner.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The following morning, you’re one of the last to drift down to the kitchen, having spent most of the night tossing and turning, too worked up to sleep properly. You rounded the corner and come to a stop, surprised to find George alone in the kitchen.

“Morning,” he said with a lazy smile.

“Good morning.” You padded towards him, accepting the coffee cup from his outstretched hand. “How’d you sleep?” you asked, blowing gently on the steaming brew.

“Didn’t,” he said, shifting closer to you. His hair was still a little messy from sleep, or lackthereof, his expression soft and voice gravelly.

“Why not?” You asked, taking a tentative sip before setting the mug down on the counter.

“Couldn’t stop thinking...” He dipped his head towards you, his nose brushing your temple.

“About?” The word came out breathless, the coil of want you'd been battling all night tightening with a vengeance.

“What it would feel like to kiss you again,” he murmured, kicking your heart into overdrive.

“And why don’t you?” Your hand creeped along his t-shirt, feeling the muscles along his abdomen sculpted by years of Quiddtich.

“Gotta set up the pitch. We’re playing this afternoon.” His demeanor shifted, all playful and energetic innocence. “See you out there!” He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, then hurried outside, leaving you wet and bewildered in the overheated kitchen.

An hour later, you were perched precariously on an old broom, knuckles white from gripping it so hard. Ginny rocketed past you with ease, nearly throwing you off balance.

“I think you need a new nickname,” George teased, steadying you. “Feathers may not be apt.”

You risked removing one hand to show him what a real bird looks like, and he barked a laugh before banking away from you.

Soon, the game was in full swing, with you, Ron, Fred, and Charlie against George, Ginny, Harry, and Bill. You had only ever ridden a broom in first year, so you were massively out of your depth.

You were given the role of Seeker, opposite Harry, and had no hope of accomplishing a damn thing. Harry was like lightning on his Firebolt, and you bobbed around like a lame pigeon.

Thankfully, none of them seemed to be taking the game very seriously. You were content to float around the property, occasionally remembering that you we're supposed to be looking for something small and golden.

After awhile the boys started to get rowdier, pushing and shoving and bludgeoning.. You tried to steer clear, watching George whack the hell out of any bludger that dare cross his airspace. You would not want to be on the other end of one of those.

“Y/n, watch out!” Ginny cried.

You looked back from where you were staring off into space, just in time to see George barreling towards you, a bludger about five feet in front of him.

You tried to move, to steer the broom literally anywhere, but it wouldn't cooperate. At the last second you managed to pull up, but not far enough. The bludger hit you square in the stomach, knocking the wind from your lungs and nearly forcing up your breakfast with the power of it. Stars danced behind your eyes, your grip began to slip from the handle as darkness raced towards you.

Something else slammed into you, wrapping itself around you—

“Y/n? Baby, are you alright?” George. You could tell you were moving, but couldn't seem to make your eyes focus, keep your body from trembling. Your cheeks were wet, the breeze frigid against your damp skin. Am I crying?

Then you were on the ground, blessed ground, and then you were up again, cradled against George's chest.

He was shouting at someone you couldn't see. “I swear on fucking Dumbledore, I'm going to beat you bloody with that fucking bat—”

“George!”

“Get her some ice,” he barked at someone else. “I'm right here, love, you're okay. Just try and breathe.”

You clung to his dampening shirt, the shock and pain keeping you teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. You could hear other people talking, but your whole world narrowed to two points: George's heartbeat and the blinding pain radiating from your stomach.

“It hurts,” you whimpered, barely recognizing the pitiful sound of your own voice.

“I know, love. I know. I’ve got you, I promise.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, soft and trembling. A moment later, he laid you on the couch, careful not to jostle you more than necessary.

Molly passed something into George's hands. “For the pain,” she whispered.

George crouched down next to you, holding the edge of the cup to your lips. “Take a sip, sweetheart.” You shook your head, your Potions safety training overpowering your reason. “Please, y/n. Let me take the pain away.”

You took a small sip, the tea pungent and floral, but immediately the edges of the pain began to soften. But the relief was short-lived. Exhaustion followed close behind it, dragging you down into a dreamless sleep.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

When you come to, the Weasley house was dark around you. The only light came from the moon spilling through window panes and the smoldering fire across from the couch.

A light snore drew your attention, and you looked up to see George above you, his head lolled onto the back of the couch, sleeping soundly. Your head was resting in his lap, his sweater piled under your head as pillow, and his large hand was stretched across your stomach, fingers splayed from your ribs to your hip bones.

God, your stomach. You moved to sit up, memories of earlier filtering through the fading grogginess of the Potion Molly gave you, but surprisingly, your stomach was only a little sore. More like an overexerted muscle than rearranged organs and cracked ribs.

George stirred, lifting his head to peer at your through half-closed lids.

“What are you doing down here?” you asked, sweeping a strand of red hair from his brow.

He came fully awake then, straightening. “How do you feel?” He asked, caressing your cheek, then running his hands over your arms, your ribs, the swell of your hips.

“The Potion did its job, I feel mostly fine,” you said, catching his hands to stop their exploration, and the buzzy desire they coaxed to life.

“Are you sure?” His features softened with relief, his fingers twining with yours.

“I'm sure. Thank you for saving me.” You leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, ignoring the slight protest in your abdomen muscles.

“Always,” George said, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “I'm sorry I wasn't close enough to stop it from hitting you in the first place. It happened so fast—”

“Love, it wasn't your fault,” you shushed, reaching out to cup his face and stroking your thumb along his cheekbone.

“I just…” he trailed off, leaning into your palm. “I always want to be there to protect you. Or for whatever you else you might need. Do you need anything now? Water, tea? Are you hungry? You missed dinner—”

“George,” you cut him off. “Right now, I need you.”

Desire eclipsed the worry on his face, his eyes shading. “Are you sure you're not in pain? No fogginess or headaches—”

You leaned in and kissed him, a light, floaty peck, silencing his incessant questioning. You appreciated his concern, but there were other parts of you that needed his attention far more. He immediately took charge of the kiss, shifting his weight to lay you back onto the couch. His body rested heavily between your thighs, his mouth devouring yours in fervent, searing kisses.

His tongue lapped at your bottom lip and you opened for him, allowing him to take everything he sought. He kissed you like he didn't know if he'd get another chance, like he'd been waiting his entire life for this moment. It stole your breath, made your toes curl and your pussy pulse with excitement, slick already collecting between your thighs.

You nipped at his lower lip, earning a soft grunt in appreciation. His hips canted forward a fraction, though it seemed he was holding himself back. His lips traveled along your jaw, down the valley of your throat with teasing licks and love bites and you arched into him, a moan spilling from your lips before you could stop it.

“Shh, baby. You have to be quiet f’me.” George nudged your shirt up with his fingers, kissing along the purplish bruises marring your stomach. “My poor girl.” His thumbs traced the curves of your stomach softly, almost reverent as he gazed up at you. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. so perfect. I’ve wanted to touch you for so long, to feel you beneath me, fuck, hear the pretty little sounds you make for me.” He was rambling now, lost in the act of worshiping your body, his hands and lips traveling gently over your skin.

“How long?” you asked, breathless, raking your fingers through his hair while he nursed a mark just under your right tit.

He looked up at you through is lashes, his lips leaving your skin with a pop. “Since that night at the Three Broomsticks,” he said, shifting upwards so he could look you in the eye.

“The ‘Butterbeer of Forgiveness’?” You mouth fell open, shock rocking through you.

He snickered. “Of course, why do you think I kept sending Fred to the bar?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You ran your fingers over his jaw, feeling the rough stubble against your skin.

“I—” his voice caught, his gaze averting from you. “I loved you too much to risk losing you.”

Elation soared through you, and you couldn’t stop the smile that split your face. “George,” you said, bumping your nose against his. His eyes flicked back to you, watery and rimmed with red. “I love you too.”

His smile was like the first sun after an endless winter, and he kissed you like the first torrential rain of spring. The heat of summer came quickly though, and soon you were gasping for him again, your hips pressing against the hard ridge in his pants.

“Need you,” you whined into his mouth.

“I’m here, love.” He kissed down your throat again, pausing for only a moment to nip at your taught nipples through your shirt before continuing his downward decent. “Lift up for me.” You lifted your hips, allowing him to tug down your jeans, exposing your sodden red panties to his greedy eyes. “Gryffindor red, huh?” he teased, and you threw your arms over your face to hide your blush. “All for me?”

You nodded, your heart in your throat.

“It’s a shame I’ll have to ruin them.’

“What—” Riiiip! The cold air lapped against your slick pussy, chased by the heat of George’s tongue as he dragged it through your folds. “Oh, fuck—”

“Shhh,” he warned, before flicking his tongue against your swollen clit.

You bit down on the back of your wrist to keep from crying out when he switched from licking to sucking, the walls of your cunt fluttering around nothing. He moved down, flattening his tongue against your entrance and collecting the wetness that pooled there. He gave a light hum of pleasure that had your eyes crossing, his tongue delving deeper in search of another taste.

“So fucking good,” he mumbled against you, the vibrations of his low voice making your sensitive clit tingle. You tugged on his hair, encouraging him to pay attention to where you needed him most. “I know, I know.” He pressed a kiss to your clit, teasing you for just a moment longer before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking hard.

You very nearly cried out, having to clap a hand over your mouth to stifle the sound. Pleasure shot through you, singeing your nerves and liquifying your muscles. So quickly you were unraveling for him, going stupid under his ministrations.

A long digit prodded at your entrance, collecting some wetness before easing inside of you. Your cunt welcomed him gladly, clamping down around his finger.

“Merlin, baby. You're so tight,” he panted, shifting to watch you take another one of his fingers, slick already running into his palm. “Relax, love. Shh, “ he soothed, curling his fingers to pet the inside of your walls, making your mind go blank as bliss washed through you. “That's it, darling. Just like that.”

The knot in your stomach began to wind tighter, burning through you as you fought to relax, to be good for him. But your orgasm was so fucking close, just a little more—

His lips found your clit again, sucking in time with your racing heart as his fingers coaxed you open, and the knot severed. Your peak slammed into you, stealing your breath so you couldn't even cry out to warn him, to sing his praises the way he deserved. Your muscles locked, your cunt bearing down as him as pleasure tore through you until you could do nothing but shiver beneath him.

“Shit, y/n. That was fucking beautiful,” he cooed, easing his fingers out of you and lapping up the release coating him to the wrist. “You alright?” He shifted upwards, kissing your bruised abdomen before pecking your lips, your eyes still glassy and unfocused.

“I've never come that hard,” you pant, throwing your arms around his neck and raining kisses over his slick-soaked face. “What the fuck.”

He chuckled, flushing under your attention. “Happy to oblige.”

You caught the last word in your mouth, kissing him deeply, desperately. Your body was already keying itself up again, and by the twitching length against your hip, he was desperate for you too.

He hooked an arm under your back and hauled you up to straddle his lap, his back pressed against the couch. “This okay?” He asked, sliding his rough hands under your shirt to skate along your skin.

You nodded, rolling your hips to drag your bare pussy along the bulge in his jeans, a skitter of pleasure making your breath hitch.

“Fuck, y/n,” he hissed, hips bucking up against you.

“Yes, please fuck me.” You kissed along his jaw and nibbled at his ear lobe, reaching between your bodies to find his zipper.

He did the same, helping you undo the button and tug down the zipper, his cock springing free from his boxers. The head nudged against your clit, hard and heated, and you whimpered.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he lifted you slightly, guiding the head to your dripping entrance. Slowly, he eased you down into him, your pussy more than ready to accommodate his length. A rough groan resounded from his chest, and you silenced it with another kiss. His cock stretched you open, hitting that spongy, sinful spot before sliding deeper until he bottomed out, the head nudging your cervix.

“So fucking tight, baby. Bloody hell,” he whispered, voice strained.

“Feels so fucking good,” you whine, grinding your hips against his.

George buried his face into your neck, stifling a moan. His grip loosened, allowing you to start lifting and lowering yourself, riding him slowly, savoring every inch of his cock as it dragged through you.

“M’not gonna last long if you keep doing that,” he warned, mouthing at your neck with sloppy kisses.

You smirked, bracing your hands against the back of the couch to pick up the pace, your thighs and abs burning from the exertion. But he felt so fucking good, stretching you open, the root of his cock dragging along your clit.

His lifted up again only to snap his hips against yours, his hands a vice on your waist as he started pounding into you from below.

“Oh, fuck, Georgie—”

“Quiet, love. You don't want the whole house to hear how good I make you feel, do you?”

You nodded, a whine escaping through your teeth. One of his hands came up to cover your mouth, silencing the sound and infringing on your air supply, callouses rubbing against your kiss-swollen skin.

“I’d love nothing more than for Percy to hear you screaming for me, but this is just for us,” he whispered, breathless as he fucked into you. “Gonna come for me again?”

Your fingers dug into the couch, another peak racing towards you. You bounced with his movements, desperately chasing your high, the ache in your abdomen long forgotten.

“That's it, love. Fuck, m’gonna come.” He threw his head back, a strangled groan accompanying the kick of his cock inside you, stretching your further before pumping you full of his release.

The hot surge of his orgasm sent you flying over the edge, ecstasy pulling your under while your cunt milked him dry with vicious pulls. You muffled your cry into his shoulder as he fucked you through it, until you both collapsed onto the couch, thoroughly spent and panting.

His lips found your forehead, your temple, his hands gliding along your spine, over your hips, soothing you as you trembled against him.

“I love you,” he breathed into your hair. “I can't believe you're here with me.”

You grazed the racing pulse under his jaw with your nose. “I love you, too.” It was exhilarating to say, almost as thrilling as the orgasm you just shared, a massive weight was lifted off your shoulders.

“So, can I call you my girl without being corrected now?” He teased, tickling your ribs.

“I suppose.” You giggled, pecking the corner of his smirk.

The following morning, you descended from your room to find George at the bottom of the stairs, shirtless, twirling his Beater Bat in his right hand. The same hand that brought you the most earth shattering orgasm of your life.

“What on earth are you doing?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his middle and kissing his cheek, admiring the violet mark you left above his clavicle.

“Waiting for Ron,” Fred supplied from the kitchen.

“Who’s waiting for me—oh fuck.” Ron stopped dead at the top of the stairs, still dressed in his pajamas, staring wide eyed at George, or more specifically, the bat in his hand.

“I just want to talk,” George said, gently moving you aside before prowling up the stairs towards his younger brother.

Ron took off up the stairs, their steps thundering through the house as George gave chase.

“George! Shit,” you huffed, glancing at the rest of the family who'd come to see what the fuss was about.

“I'll let ‘im get a good whack in,” Molly said, smiling at you. “Since you're his girl and all.”

Your cheeks flamed, but they only met you with warm hugs and laughter, like they'd been expecting this from the beginning.

Crack!

“Ow!”

"That's for hurting my girl, you git."

Fin. 🐦‍⬛

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Thank you so much for reading!

If you enjoyed, you can check out my published work here.

Much love,

Allie

[aiambia]

Okay hear me out: the answer is honesty.

Lucanis claims to be bad at romance and flirting but then tends to be rather charming in his romance scenes.

Why is that?

I don’t think he’s flirting on purpose and just thinks he’s bad at it. I think he’s just being honest and stumbles into being suave and charming by accident. Yes, some of his lines sound very flirty, but I think taking them at face value, as Lucanis just saying what’s on his mind rather than making an attempt to flirt, makes his romance feel much more genuine.

There’s a moment in his final romance scene (that I talk about here) that solidifies this idea of honesty for me: Rook can set Lucanis up for an easy flirty sex joke when they say:

“Stay up? All night? However shall we pass the time?”

But instead of making the joke or being flirty about it, Lucanis says:

“Would you talk to me? Your voice is a comfort.”

It’s an incredibly vulnerable moment packed into a single line of dialogue. It reaffirms Lucanis’s earlier desire to spend time with Rook now that they’re here, now that they’re back. It’s also an admission of how vulnerable he feels. He’s an assassin facing the hardest contract he will ever have to complete, knowing that if he fails to (help) kill Elger’nan, then the world ends. Under all of that pressure, the one thing that he wants as a stress reliever and to calm him, ground him, is not sex or romance or any sort of grand display. All he wants is to spend time with Rook and listen to their voice.

So then, taking what we’ve learned from his last romance scene and retroactively applying it to his earlier romance scenes, you can feel how genuine and vulnerable Lucanis is when you just take him at face value. Of course he doesn’t get why Rook likes him—he’s just being himself and doesn’t think he is or has done anything special to deserve their affection.

Now compare the idea of an honest and vulnerable Lucanis to the one time he actually does try to be flirty:

He pins Rook against the wall and he’s talking all suave, but then he panics and can’t commit to a kiss. He’s certainly charming, but trying to be so alluring puts him waaaayyy out of his element. It freaks him out (in combination with his self-doubt and issues he has yet to work out with Spite at that point), and he can’t continue. And then we never see him attempt to be flirty again.

When you lock in his romance, Lucanis implies that the dessert is a form of apology. He’s doing something special, not to flirt or charm, but to apologize and make up for everything he’s put Rook through. He says that the dessert “[is] nothing. Or not enough.” He can’t figure out any other way to express his gratitude and appreciation for all that Rook has done for him, except to cook something that they might enjoy.

During a Lucanis and Neve banter, she teases him saying that “Rook is good for you” and (if you get the banter while you’re not at the lighthouse) Lucanis doesn’t take the opportunity to flirt with Rook. He just says that Neve is right.

And then at the post-dealing with Illario cafe date, the most romantic thing he says in the entire scene is him saying that he never expected to be there with Rook, “…but here we are.”

None of this is flirting, and yet when he talks, it’s still charming. Why? Because honesty is charming. It’s vulnerable and the fact that Lucanis repeatedly trust Rook enough to be vulnerable with them is why he comes across as alluring.

It all culminates to a rather impactful “I love you” at the because he’s been so honest and genuine throughout the rest of the game. He says it and you know he means it. You can see the devotion in his eyes. There is no teasing or coyness because he doesn’t know how to do that (in a romantic sense).

Lucanis himself, in all of his honesty, genuine care for Rook, and appreciation for all that Rook has done is what makes him charming. He is a violently swinging pendulum of awkward and rizz god because he’s just saying what’s on his mind. Sometimes that honesty is going to come out sounding awkward as hell and sometimes he’s going to sound like he’s jumped out of a romance novel.

Lucanis doesn’t present himself to Rook as anything other than who he is, even when he tries to hide and protect Rook (and the team) from Spite. It makes his romance so genuine. You’re not falling for flirty and suave seduction from a professional assassin. You’re falling in love with a guy who expresses his feelings through food and tells Rook the truth because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Lucanis is a violently swinging pendulum of awkward and literal rizz god. How is he so bad but the coffee date cute af, and that scene in the pantry soooo goooood!?!?!

How does his confession never involve actually saying anything or physical intimacy of any kind and just him making a dessert (before you come for me, yes, I know most of his conversations are layered with romantic subtext), then later says he loves you with his whole chest?

Why does he consistently fumble when talking about romance or giving advice when with companions, but will pull mad suave lines on Rook?

This man has no idea why you like him but will turn around and say the cutest shit and demand to snuggle.

Sir... SIR...SIIIIIRRRRR!!!!!!

Listen here, babygirl. I WILL marry you. Don't try me.

[al0velyuniverse]

Body Shots

I woke up in a cold sweat to write this and it went from a short little paragraph to a four part series, please enjoy

●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●

Pt.1 |

CW: Drinking (duh), drunk sex, (oral male!receiving), exhibition (kinda? In a loose term), mentions of Simon sharing you with the team

The first time you suggested body shots you were in your boyfriend Simon’s apartment drinking with his team. 

Johnny and Gaz sat at the kitchen counter, chatting about something unimportant. You and Simon sat on the couch, but he was turned away from you talking to Price. You were feeling incredibly bored so you spoke, “I think body shots could be fun right now., don’t you boys?” When the words left your lips all conversation ceased and you could see all of their eyes light up, thinking they’re about to not only see you topless but they get to lick you. What nobody excepted; however, was for you to gently push Simon onto his back on the couch. When you asked, Gaz scrambled to find and hand you the supplies without a second thought. The room was silent except for the quiet radio as everyone watched you pull Simon’s shirt up, sprinkle a trail of salt onto his chest, and place a lime wedge between his lips. A strained “fuck” left Johnny’s lips when you moved to straddle Simon. You could have sworn you saw Johnny and Gaz adjust themselves in sync when you leaned down to slowly lick the salt off of Simon’s chest. You threw back the shot of tequila with ease before taking the lime from Simon’s mouth with your own. With a self satisfied smirk on your face and the attention of all four men in the room you sat back up properly. “Anyone else want a turn?” Unfortunately nobody else would get a turn that night, Simon demanding they all get lost. You stood to let him physically push everyone out of the door, laughing at the chorus of ‘boos’ and complaints that you two received. 

When the door finally shut Simon whipped around and grabbed you by the hair, using his grip to push you to your knees with one hand and undo his fly with the other. “Think you’re cheeky huh? Think it’s funny to let ‘em think they get to put their mouths on you, just to be a fuckin’ tease and make ‘em all watch you take the shot instead?” His words surprised you for a moment, he wasn’t mad that you implied his team could put their mouths on you…oh no, he was pissed because you made them think they could and then denied them. The realization sent chills down your spine, but before you could get any words in either to tease him or poke at the idea of him sharing you Simon was forcing your mouth open. “C’mon luv, open up for me. You were so eager to use your mouth earlier. Let’s see you do it again yeah?”

Simon laid his leaking tip on your tongue when you stuck it out for him. You looked up at him with those pretty doe eyes you knew made him crazy as you slowly took more of him into your mouth. The taste of his pre-cum mixing with the aftertaste of the shot you had just taken caused you to let out an involuntary moan. As if acting on some primal instinct Simon pushed your head as far down as you could go, 3/4 of the way his pushing was met with resistance “come on sweet’eart…swallow. Swa-yeah, attagirl.”” You manage to get those last few inches down your throat, your nose brushing against those pretty blonde curls at his base. Your hands reached up to brace yourself on his thighs as he started to move your head, using your mouth like his own personal toy. The gagging and slurping sounds that emitted from you were downright filthy, and your looked matched the sounds. Saliva covering your chin and dripping down onto your chest. After what felt like forever but was probably just a few minutes or so your boyfriend pulled you off of him with a satisfying ‘pop’. Your chest heaved as you attempted to catch your breath. Simon let go of your hair and moved to sit back on the couch, you didn’t dare move a muscle.  Once he was comfortable he looked you over and patted his lap. The simple non-verbal command and you stripping your bottoms and moving to straddle his lap.

You were already soaked and both of you knew it. “You this fuckin’ wet just from sucking me off dove?” His words were accompanied by the feeling of his finger sliding across your slit, gathering up some of the wetness that leaked from you. The gentle touch alone had you bucking your hips, an action that was quickly halted by Simons free hand gripping your thigh. “Wait” His voice dark and rough and had that ’don’t fuck with me’ tone that made your stomach do backflips. You watched with wide eyes as Simon brought his finger to his lips and sucked your slick off of his finger. “Fuckin’ divine you know that luv?”  Your response came in the form of a desperate whimper and another attempt to grind your aching cunt against his cock. It was right there, so close and still wet from your saliva.

Simon let out a chuckle before lifting your hips a little so he could properly position himself, lining up with your hole in a practiced manner that came from far too much couch sex. He helped you slowly lower yourself down onto him, letting you accommodate to the stretch. “Thats it. Thats a good girl, just like that,” When you were properly sat you both let out a shuddery breath. No matter how many times he fucked you his size was still a shock to your body that you had to adjust to, but once you were ready your hips became an unstoppable force. Not that Simon would want to stop the way you bounced up and down, moved back and forth, greedy walls gripping him and trying to suck him back in every time you pulled up even a little. It was absolute heaven for both of you and it was bringing you closer to your orgasm faster than you cared to admit. 

Your moans raised in pitch the closer you got to your orgasm “Simon..Si..Simons please im-“ He covered your mouth with his hand quickly. “Not yet, please…just a little longer, wanna fuck your cunt for just al little longer. You can wait cant you doll?” You whined in protest but nodded nevertheless, you couldn’t say no to him. Especially when his eyebrows scrunched together and his eyes squeezed shut as his hips rammed up into yours, the feeling making you borderline delirious. Simon didn’t tell you that you were allowed to cum yet , at least not verbally. Instead he reached a hand down between your bodies to rub at your poor sensitive and neglected clit, it was too much. The please making your head spin and hips falter. “S’okay dove, let go for me.” Thats all you needed to absolutely fall apart on top of your boyfriend, his own Orgasm following soon after.

One satisfying and much needed shower later Simon was tucking you into bed and pulling you close to him. As you drifted off to sleep you could hear him mutter about how well you did and how good you could be for his boys.

[eggsandramem]

so ink, huh? ✒️🌧️

anyways, design notes!!!!!!!

GOD CSMP IS RUINING ME :WITHEREDAWAY: /VPOS

that first part to the finale on rats pov got me GRRGHGHR.... THE DEFILE MOD IS SO <333,,, yummy tasty grghhrg the csmp lore as a whole makes me explode too

for Rat;

🐀 - The little rat pattern on the bottom of the maid dress are based on a sweater i really like!! they're super cute, and i thought they fit

🐀 - Had to add the extra rats hehe,,, including an oc of mine for self indulgence :swagzauc: (the fella by rats' boot,,, simplified version of my oc Squeakers!)

🐀 ^ - To add onto the rats, i also gave them inkmorphisized forms!! they get ink whimsy too. as a treat

🐀 - I wanted to incorperate the focus items in the mod into both of their designs somehow, so i gave rat a charm of the Sun Effigy!! funky tail charm,,, but shinyy,,,,

🐀 - The horns are more rounded than sharp due to how they look in the pixel sprites! :D

and for Lux;

🖋 - I decided to add a big tear in her right wing, to add onto the fact that her arm got pretty much chopped off by mouthpiece. lux herself mentioned after i shared a wip that it could also be torn because of how she always dies to fall damage and. i can see it LMFAOO😭😭😭

🖋 - The horns in the inkmorphisis form are more sharp than soft, more because i couldnt figure out how to make that same shape i gave rats' horns fit with the moth antennae,,, it still looks a little weird but fuck it we ball </3

🖋 ^ - On the topic of the horns, ive also given them the small little nubby bits to *kind of* resemble a wardens horns, with their little glowy nubs!! just as a nod towards the 'furniture' mod she made :3c

🖋 - I turned the eyespots in her normal design into the Totem of Uncleansing eyes!!!! like i mentioned in rats' notes, in wanted to incorperate the focus items in the mod into their designs, and i thought putting the totems on the eyespots would be super neat,,, :D

🖋 ^ - Unlike the other eyes on the wings, the eye over the torn wing isnt removed, but is rather put into more of a side-viewed/facing position! i didnt want to make it look like a strange, weirdly cut off eye, so yahoo :3

~~~

RAHHG I LOVED MAKING MY OWN DESIGN INTERPERITATIONS FOR THESE TWO.... I NEED TO MAKE MORE EVENTUALLY BUT I HAVE NO IDEA WHEN THAT WILL BE BECAUSE MY MOTIVATION IS AWFUL,,,, FOR NOW? HAVE THESE TWO.... hwat is their duo name..... ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ ◅