#like he seems extremely unbothered by being a little girl

[unknownorigins-uo]

hey btw i headcanon agender otto octavius because of the manga where he shares a brain with a japanese schoolgirl.

[kentogetsmewetter]

Pookies Requiem

⋆｡°✩Genre: ony x black reader smut with plot

⋆｡°✩Synopsis: inspired by the song pookies requiem by salorr in which three months after you guys broke up you see ony with a new girl and she looks and moves similarly to you. You feel like he's being disrespectful to you showing her off kissing her in front of you, and it all boils over from there.

⋆｡°✩Contents: oral(fem reciving), fingering, sex(p n v ), overstimulation, pet names, praise, they r lowk toxic, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasams

You haven't seen onyankopon in a little over three months since you guys had your breakup. It was a somewhat mutual breakup. You felt like you had to because you just weren't in the right mental space to be in a relationship at that point, and he felt like he had to, to give you that space to clear your head. He really didn't want to breakup he did it cause he cared for you is what he said but you didn't forget how he would never want to show you off in public dropping your hand when you went into stores never posting you, so you were just done with that whole thing.

So when the first time you see him in three months, you see him sitting across from you with his "girl" on his lap. You were extremely confused and felt disrespected. He sat across from you, leaning back onto the couch, His legs were spread wide, in his right hand, he held a half-burned blunt, the faint curl of smoke rising between his fingers. His other arm was wrapped possessively around her waist, his fingers playing with the hem of her skirt. She leaned into him, her gaze flickering between his face and the room, her lips curving into a soft smile you wanted to rip off her face.

She was pretty, you couldn't lie, her deep brown skin glowing under the dim lighting, Long bohemian braids flowing down her back, reaching all the way to her waist. She wore a snug, cropped baby tee that clung to her figure, revealing just a hint of toned midriff paired with a sleek black mini skirt that hightled her long legs. The fit was completed with knee-high boots that hugged her calves, their glossy finish reflecting the ambient light.

What caught your attention most, though, was her face it was uncanny. Her features eerily mirrored your own, almost as if it was on purpose. The sharp arch of her brows, the perfectly blended makeup that highlighted her almond-shaped eyes, and even the gloss coating her full lips all felt strangely familiar.

Her style, too, seemed like a deliberate copy of your own, she was clearly biting off your look, from the way her braids framed her face to the outfit she had on the way her makeup was styled the face piercings, and even the bleached brows. You've seen this chick before and you know damn well she didn't have this look a year ago. It literally looked like he was wit a mini version of you to cope, you couldn't help but chuckle at the thought.

Your thoughts were interrupted when your homegirl came back having a drink in her hand she placed it on the table in front of you her grin wide. "Girl this better have more juice than alcohol,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes at her. She let out a playful chuckle tilting her head to the pair sitting across from you." please I know you need it."

Onyankopon's hand moved with slowness trailing up and down the curves of her thigh. Their lips were locked in a heated desperate kiss with their bodies leaning into each other. It was the kinda kiss that made them feel as if they were the only two in the room. Her fingers found the way to the back of his neck tracing slow patterns with her long acrylic nails.

You sighed, already regretting whatever concoction she’d handed you. But she wasn’t wrong. Your fingers tightened around the glass as you took a sip. The burn of the liquor hit the back of your throat sharply. "God damn girl, this shit is like straight alcohol." She just chuckled, unbothered. “You’ll thank me later" She sent you a small wink.

You chuckled but you felt disrespected as hell, your anger only growing a small scowl pulled at your lips and your features even though you tried not to show you were upset. Finally, the two of them broke apart, as your gaze drifted back to Onyankopon. You didn't wanna look at him. You really didn’t, but it felt impossible not to.

He sat there, cool and looking unbothered as he slowly brought the blunt to his lips the ember glowed faintly as he took a slow drag, his eyes half-lidded and slightly red as he threw his head back blowing out a cloud of smoke. He looked good too good it only made you angrier. The compression shirt he wore clung to him like a second skin, highlighting the defined muscles of his arms and each curve of his biceps. Around his neck, an icy Cuban chain glinted under the dim lighting, every diamond refracting in the light in tiny flashes that matched the diamond grillz on his teeth when he laughed.

And he was laughing deep and rich, his attention seemingly glued to her. It made you tighten your grip on your drink. But your gaze lingered a second longer than you should've cause like he’d been waiting for you to look. His sharp eyes met yours, his lips curving into a smirk, slow, deliberate, and arrogant. It wasn’t just a smile, it was a challenge he knew what he was doing and to twist the knife just a little deeper, he sent you a small wink while you raised your middle finger to him.

"Yo, chica," Connie’s voice called pulling your attention away from the scene you’d been trying and failing not to fixate on. His tone was light but teasing. "You gon’ stare at 'em all night, or you gon’ actually say something?"Your eyes sharply snapped to Connie's before rolling them with exaggerated annoyance. "Man, shut up," you muttered under your breath, but his smirk only widened.

"Ion got shit to say to his fuck ass," you said louder this time Ony's eyes landing on you. With a small huff you pushed yourself up from the couch, the words and movement just abrupt enough to draw a few more eyes in your direction. "I'm going to the bathroom." Not waiting for his reply you walk away hearing "Alright, chica." but while you are walking away you feel the strong gaze of ony searing into your back while you leave.

The tension between you and Onyankopon was impossible to ignore. It lingered heavy in the air pulling the energy in the room into an uncomfortable stillness. No one wanted to say it out loud, but everyone could feel it the charged energy between you and Onyankopon. This was the first time anyone had been around his new girl, and it was clear no one had expected her to show up. Her presence lowkey threw everything off. She sat close to him, her body angled in a way that claimed him without needing to say a word. She looked relaxed, her smile soft and unfazed, laughing at whatever joke he murmured to her. Onyankopon seemed just as unbothered, leaning back in his seat with the same casual demeanor acting like nothing was wrong.

But the vibe was off. Everyone could feel it, and it was lowkey fucking with the flow of the night. The music playing in the background felt quieter somehow even the usual banter that kept the group lively seemed muted. It was clear the vibe had shifted but neither Onyankopon nor his girl seemed to care.

"Annoying ass nigga," you mumbled under your breath, carefully reapplying your lip liner in the mirror. The soft hum of music playing in the background did little to ease your irritation. You leaned closer, perfecting the sharp edges when a sudden knock at the door made you pause. Assuming it was one of your friends checking in on you, you called out casually, "Come in." Your tone shifted instantly when the door opened to reveal the last person you wanted to see. "Get the fuck out," you snapped.

Instead of doing what the fuck you told him to do he smirked and stepped inside, the low click of the door lock echoing in the small space. "Why I gotta leave, ma?", his voice carrying that familiar, cocky tone that always got under your skin.

You crossed your arms, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. "Where yo lil girlfriend at?" The sourness in your voice was impossible to miss, but he just chuckled, taking slow, deliberate steps toward you." Why you worried about her?" he asked, his tone teasing, A smirk played on his lips as he bit down lightly on his bottom lip while his eyes roamed over you in a way that made your skin heat up.

"Trust me, I ain’t never worried bout ha" you spoke with a shrug your tone indifferent as you were downplaying the irritation inside you. "really?" he chuckled"So why was you so pressed when I had her on my lap n' shit?" He leaned closer into you as he spoke, with his knowing tone setting you on the edge. It was that one tone that made you feel so exposed like he just knew everything.

"Nigga, cause you disrespectful as fuck." you snapped stepping closer to him jabbing your long perfectly manicured nail into his chest. "Doing all that shit right in front of my face. really? " Your words came out sharply but the slight tremor in your voice showcased your true hurt feelings.

For a split second, he didn’t respond, just watched you with that look in his eyes, you also took the time to observe him. before you knew it, he had you cornered your back pressed against the cool wall, the space between you close to close, overwhelming so his sent a mix of your favorite cologne he wore and smoke was filling your nostrils like a trap, you were trapped. His body towered over yours, in a way that made it impossible to ignore that feeling you had for him deep down.

You tried to keep your composure, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes your eyes darting everywhere but his face. You felt as if his eyes were piercing into your skin making you feel small your eyes skimming over his chest, the wall to your left, the floor anywhere but him. His lip curved into that same aggravating smirk you'd seen all throughout the night you felt it without even looking at him. He knew he had you and you hated that he was right.

"Yea?" he said softly, his smooth and low almost a whisper. His fingers, tipped with clear polish, slipped under your chin with a gentle yet firm touch, you swoalled hard your pulse quickening while his hand tilted your head upward forcing you to meet his eyes. "You’re not even looking me in my eyes right now, mama." his voice soft but weighted every word hitting you like a punch. His thumb lightly brushed your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. "You only do that when you’re mad..."

His other hand, tattooed and warm slid down to your waist with an ease that felt too natural. His fingers pressed against your skin, warm and firm as they started tracing slow, soothing circles. The touch was soothing, almost comforting, but the effect it had on you was anything but calm.

"Nervous," he continued his lips curving into that signature smirk as he leaned in closer his breath brushing against your neck. "Jealous..." he added, dragging the word out, making you heart skip a beat. "You called me a fuck-ass nigga," he said with a quiet chuckle, his smirk deepening."Been rude to me all night. But…" He leaned in just slightly, his face close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his skin. His gaze traveled over your face studying every mood you tried to suppress." With how hard you tryna act right now," he said, his voice dipping even lower. "Ion think you’re mad."

"Trust me, I definitely ain’t jealous," you shot back, you pushed against his chest your palms flat against the hard surface the hard muscle beneath his shirt. You tried pushing him away from you but he wouldn't budge, too strong for that. Frustrated you gave up turning your head to face the wall beside you again refusing to meet his eyes.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and deep, like he found your resistance amusing."You act like I don’t know you," he said, his voice dropping into that smooth, familiar tone that always made your stomach twist. before you could respond, his hand slipped beneath your shirt. His palm was warm against your bare skin, his touch deliberate as his fingers spread across your waist, cupping you with a familiarity that made your breath hitch.

"How your body reacts to me," he murmured each word with a slow tease. " And only me." His thumb brushed lazy circles against your skin the subtle movement filling your body with heat finding it hard to keep your composure. Your jaw tightened, as you swallowed hard you felt his gaze burning into the side of your face as you kept your eyes elsewhere trying to keep your composure, but he noticed everything the way your breathing spead, the slight tension in your shoulders, the heat creeping up your neck. He knew you all too well.

"How you can get so wet from the smallest touches," his voice deep it felt so intoxicating he gripped the side of your neck firmly, tilting your head slightly his lips brushing against the curve of your neck, placing slow, lingering kisses trailing from the base of your neck to that sensitive spot just behind your ear.

He was a little more right than you wanted to admit heat was pooling between your thighs, your body was responding to him in ways you couldn’t control."How easy it is for me to get you to cum," he whispered his words like a challenge and promise all at once, his hand sliding down lower the short skirt you were wearing giving him all the access he needed, his fingers easily found the hem of your panties tugging lightly testing how far he could push you.

"All you gotta do is say please, baby," his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke his fingers toying with the delicate fabric.You hated this, you hated how easy it was for your body to give into him, how every word, every touch had your body being so reactive to him. The worst part is he knew no matter how much you tried to fight it he always knew. " And if I don't?" you shot back quriking a brow challenging him trying to hold onto the last bit of control you had left.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate. Instead, he leaned back slightly, his smirk still in place but softened with something that felt almost playful. "I’ll stop," he said simply, his voice calm giving you just enough space to breathe, the absence of his warmth leaving you feeling a bit cooler. His eyes locked onto your reading every emotion on your face." Do you want me to stop?" his voice becoming softer your throat felt dry, your chest tight, and for a moment, the room felt smaller like the walls were closing in around you. His words lingered but you knew you couldn't give him what he wanted, what you wanted, he disrespected you kissed and rubbed all over her in front of you, he probably got that other bitch outside waiting for him.

"Yea, in fact, I do," you snapped, your tone sharp and cutting. "Actually, go back to that other bitch. Bet you were thinking about me the whole time you were with her, loser-ass nigga."You stood tall your arms crossed over your chest as your chin was tilted in defiance you glared at him, daring him to respond.

You saw his jaw tense slightly for a second, his dark eyes narrowing as he looked at you, an unreadable expression flickering across his face. For a moment, you thought he might fire back, match your energy, and escalate things further. Instead, he gave you that madding smirk the one that always got under your skin, that was deliberate and full of arrogance, like he had already won whatever battle you thought you were fighting.

Onyankopon took a step back his movements smooth and calculated "Bet" he said, his voice calm and confident, his smirk deepening as he turned away, leaving you standing there with your emotions tangled and your chest tight." what the fuck.."

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at your reflection. The dim light highlighted the frustration etched across your features, your brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. You were upset but more than anything, you were disappointed in yourself. You hated how close you’d come to giving in to him, how his touch and his words had nearly had you.

"I gotta get outta here," you muttered under your breath, gripping the edge of the sink you wish you could erase the memory of his aggravating yet sexy smirk, the way his voice lingered in your mind, the way you still felt his hot teasing touches on your skin. After a few more moments of pacing in the cramped space, you gathered yourself, stepping outside the bathroom ready to tell everyone your goodbyes.

"Ahh, Chica! There you are!" Connie’s voice boomed as soon as he spotted you. His mischievous grin spread wide as he leaned back in his chair, a blunt in one hand. "What, were you takin’ a shit or somethin’?" You couldn’t help but chuckle shaking your head at his audacity "Boy no." you shot back, rolling your eyes, but the corner of your lips tugging upward in a reluctant smile.

"Good! Now we can finally play the game," he spoke, clapping his hands together. Your face quickly scrunched up at his words "What game?" "You ain’t hear?" Connie teased, his grin widening as he leaned forward like he was about to share some big secret." We finna play truth or dare."

Truth or dare? Yea no that was a recipe for disaster. You were already shaking your head, backing up a step. "Nah, I’m not playin’ no truth or dare," you said firmly. "I gotta go."

"Booo, you're no fun. Just stay for one round, please?" Connie whined dramatically, tugging slightly on your arm like a little kid. "Yeah, just one," your homegirl chimed in, You glanced between the two of them, their over-the-top expressions making it hard to say no. You sighed reluctantly rolling your eyes. "Fine. Just one round." The pair erupted into cheers like they’d just won the lottery." oh my god" You shook your head lightly with a smile and before you knew it, you were being dragged back to the group.

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the different scents of smoke and laughter as you all sat in a loose circle on the living room floor. It was you, your friend, Connie, Armin, Eren, Sasha, Onyankopon, and ole girl that he was still allowing to sit in his lap. Drinks were scattered across the coffee table, the faint smell of weed hung in the air, and the music playing in the background set the perfect vibe.

It didn’t take long for the game to take a turn. Of course, you weren't there for one round only. Truths became messier, dares became bolder, and the energy in the room shifted into something unpredictable, somehow you ended up with a blunt in hand, the warm paper crackling faintly as you brought it up to your lips. Your inhale was smooth, the smoke filling your lungs before you released it in a slow steady stream. For a brief moment, you felt the weight of the room fading but of course that didn't last long, you could feel Onyankopon's gaze drilling holes into the side of your head.

The others were laughing and shouting as Armin fumbled through a dare, but their voices felt distant in your mind. You refused to look his way keeping your attention on Armin in front of you. Your focus was on keeping your composure and pretending like Onyankopon’s presence didn’t affect you, even though it did. Instead of looking his way you exhaled again, letting the thick haze surround you while the game played on with rising tension and unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

"Okay, y/n, it’s your turn!" Sasha chirped, her smile a little too wide as if she was desperate to keep things light. You glanced at her, still feeling the weight of Onyankopon’s gaze lingering on you from earlier. His presence felt like a magnet, pulling at you no matter how hard you tried to ignore him. "Truth or dare?" Sasha pressed, her voice cutting through your thoughts. You sighed, leaning back into the couch. "Truth," you answered wanting to keep your peace for now. "What’s one of your biggest regrets?"

Sasha looked at you with an apologetic shrug, clearly realizing a second too late that her choice of question might’ve been a bit much.You inhaled deeply, the blunt in your hand burning idly as you took a slow drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs before exhaling with measured calm. "My biggest regret?" you echoed, You could feel everyone’s anticipation, their quiet curiosity mixed with a little nervousness. Finally, you set the blunt down, brushing off the ash as you spoke. "Probably wasting my time on people who didn’t deserve it," you said simply, your words carrying a sharpness through the air

Sasha let out a nervous laugh, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "Well, uh, that was... honest!" she stammered, trying to recover from the tension she’d just unleashed. Onyankopon didn’t say anything, but the way his gaze darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line for a split second, told you everything you needed to know. You’d hit a nerve, and he wasn’t about to let it go unnoticed.

"Alright, Eren, your turn," Connie finally said, breaking the silence and steering the game forward, though the lingering tension was impossible to ignore. You took another drag from your blunt, pretending not to notice the way Onyankopon’s eyes stayed locked on you, the air between you still humming with unspoken words.

But of course, Armin being the instigator he is couldn't resist stirring the pot. He leaned forward, a sly grin spreading across his face as the energy in the room shifted. It was Eren’s turn, and for this round, he decided to play it safe."Truth," Eren said with a casual shrug. "Alright, here’s a good one," Armin had been waiting for this moment no hesitation in his voice when he said. " Do you think y/n and Onyankopon still have feelings for each other?"

The room went dead silent, the kind of quiet where even the music in the background felt muted. You froze the blunt halfway up to your lips, and all eyes darted between you and Onyankopon. The playful energy of the room shifted into something far more uncomfortable. Eren, visibly caught off guard, leaned back. " Bruh," Eren muttered, running a hand down his face as he regretted picking truth at that moment.

Onyankopon on the other hand didn't bother hiding his reaction, his jaw clenched so tightly you could see the muscle ticking in his cheek. His usual calm, unbothered demeanor cracked just slightly, and for a moment, you could feel the heat of his irritation radiating off him. He shifted in his spot, his broad shoulders tensing as he glanced at you briefly before locking eyes with Armin. Armin was unfazed and enjoying every second of the chaos he leaned back on his hands, his grin only growing wider.

"Answer the question," Sasha teased, breaking the silence and nudging Eren with her elbow. You finally took a drag of the blunt, inhaling deeply like it was the only thing keeping you from snapping. Smoke curled from your lips as you exhaled slowly, refusing to meet Onyankopon’s gaze even though you could feel it boring into you. Eren hesitated, looking between you and Onyankopon like he was trying to navigate between making the air tenser

"Don’t even answer that dumbass shit," Onyankopon cut in, his voice low and sharp. His eyes remained fixed on Armin, daring him to push further. "Oh, come on, it’s just a game," Armin quipped, raising his hands in innocence. "Besides, we’re all thinking it, right?" You rolled your eyes, leaning back and blowing out another puff of smoke. "Y’all are so damn childish," you muttered. " And besides y'all disrespecting the lady I got on my lap right here."

"So now you worried bout disrespect? Got it, " you mumbled under your breath, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. But of course, someone heard, Onyankopon heard. His sharp gaze shifted to you instantly, his lips curving upwards. "Yea, I am," he said, his voice low but pointed like he knew exactly how his words would land. "What, you got something to say, ma?"

Your head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing as you met his eyes for the first time all night."Nah," you said coolly, though your tone betrayed the irritation simmering just beneath the surface. "Just funny how respect only comes up when it suits you."

The group sat frozen, their eyes darting between the two of you as if they were front-row spectators of the hottest new movie in theaters, Sasha raised her eyebrows, biting her lip to suppress a laugh, while Connie leaned forward, his grin wide as he whispered, "Oh, this about to get good." Armin's instigating ass sat back with a satisfied smirk proud of the little scene he was causing while Eren, who usually stayed detached, looked genuinely intrigued, his arms crossed as he watched the tension escalate. The air between you felt charged, heavy, as Onyankopon tilted his head slightly, that smirk deepening like he was enjoying this way too much. "Funny how you always got somethin' ta say when it’s about me,"

You straightened your back slightly, refusing to let Onyankopon’s words rattle you, but the heat in your chest only grew. "And what’s that supposed to mean?" you shot back, your voice sharp, Onyankopon let out a low chuckle and he leaned forward slightly, "You know exactly what it means, mama," he said, his eyes boring into yours. "You talk the loudest when you tryin' to convince yourself of somethin’."

The rest of the room was utterly silent now, every eye locked on the two of you. Connie muttered a quiet "Oh, shit," under his breath, leaning forward to catch every word, while Sasha’s wide eyes darted between you and Onyankopon, as though she were bracing herself for whatever came next.

You scoffed, your eyes narrowing as you stared at him with a sharp glare," And what am I trying to convince myself of?" Rising outta the soft sofa chair you tilted your chin upwards, refusing to back down. The challenge in your stance was clear, daring him to say something. Onyankopon mirrored your movement effortlessly, standing tall and matching your energy with an intensity that made the air between you crackle. His gaze locked onto yours. "That you don’t care," he said simply, his tone calm, almost too calm, as if he already had you figured out.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes even as the tension between you thickened. "Boy, please no one is worried about you and what you're doing." "Yea?," he said, his voice dropping lower a teasing edge dipping in. "You tryin’ so hard to act like I don’t get under your skin like you ain’t been feelin’ some type of way since you walked in and saw me."Your lips parted to respond, but no words came out, your mind racing for a comeback that wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He tilted his head, watching you intently.

"You talk the loudest when you tryin’ to convince yourself of somethin'," he continued, his tone laced with a confidence that made your chest tighten. "And right now? You tryin’ to convince yourself that I ain’t still in your head, that you don’t care what I do or who I’m with. But we both know that’s a lie."

He had you, and he knew it—knew you like the back of his hand, every button to push, every weakness to exploit. It infuriated you how easily he could get under your skin, how effortlessly he could unravel you with just a few words."Yea, your right cause you don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself,"You jabbed your finger hard into his chest, the force of it making him take a half-step back, but his eyes never wavered from yours. Your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to stay composed. The frustration, the anger, the hurt all of it bubbled to the surface, threatening to spill over.

"You don’t give a shit about me or ole girl you brought here tonight." you spat, The tears you’d been holding back glistened in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him. His smirk faltered, just slightly, the faintest flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he quickly masked it. "That's what you think?" he said, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. "That I don’t care?"

“I know you don’t care,” you vented, your voice trembling, whether from the anger you were feeling or the tears that would soon be running down your face, you weren't sure." cause if you did care you wouldn't have even brought this bitch here!"

You felt the knot in your throat getting tighter, the weight of everything, the anger, betrayal, the pain was so strong you felt like you could hardly breathe. You couldn’t let him see you like this vulnerable and feeling exposed.

Turning on your heel, you spat the words that had been burning on the tip of your tongue. “Fuck you, nigga. You’re a piece of shit.” Your voice cracked slightly, but the nastiness in your tone wouldn't go unnoticed. The words hung heavy in the air as you stormed off, your footsteps echoing in the sudden silence. Behind you, you could feel his gaze, a mix of shock and something else you couldn’t or wouldn’t decipher. But you didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

The ride home was a blur of headlights and streetlights blurred from your tear-filled eyes, your playlist filled with the saddest songs you could find each lyric pulling more tears from you, making the ache in your heart much heavier. With one hand on the smooth leather steering wheel, you used the other to wipe your checks even though it felt pointless.

You were finally letting the emotions of the night out, you were upset, angry really but not just at him. The situation kept playing over and over in your head, you thinking of different scenarios you should've done instead. That stupid fucking smirk on his face, his words, the way your feelings got completely disregarded. It wasn't just the fact that he disrespected you showing off that girl in front of you doing the things he would never do to you. It was also the fact that throughout the whole night, he acted as if nothing you said or did faze him like he was just enjoying playing a game.

But what stung worst of all is how badly you still wanted him. The memory of his touch lingered on your smooth skin still, every sensation burned into your mind, the way his fingers brushed against your skin so casually but left you wanting, needing more.

When you finally pulled into your driveway your body felt heavy and weighed down by exhaustion and frustration. You turned off the engine and with a shaky sigh, you made your way inside. tossing your bag onto the couch as you kicked off your shoes. Without thinking you grabbed the blunt you were smoking before and you sparked it, watching as the tip burned a bright red, the smoke curling into the air in your dimly lit living room. You inhaled deeply he warmth of it started to work its way through you, dulling your emotions just enough to breathe easier.

But even as you exhaled, the haze beginning the cloud the area around you, his face lingered in your mind, his voice, his touch, the way he had looked at you tonight like he knew exactly how to undo you. You took another hit hoping the weed would just do its job and calm you down.

After about fifteen minutes, the tension in your body had eased, The blunt doing its job leaving you feeling much more relaxed and calm, you did a small stretch feeling ready to take a shower and get some sleep.

But then, three loud knocks shattered that quietness, The sound made you jump slightly, your heart skipping a beat as you froze for a moment. You frowned, annoyed and unsure who would be knocking at this hour. You didn’t feel like dealing with anyone, thinking it was one of your friends checking up on you but curiosity got the better of you.

Huffing in annoyance you walked over to the window pulling the curtain aside just enough to peek out carefully to stay outta sight. And there he was Onyankopon, standing on your porch his hands shoved into his pockets his tall frame illuminated by the soft glow of the porch light.

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. Of course, it was him. You should’ve known. The audacity of him showing up here after everything tonight is crazy. He caught your gaze through the window, and you didn’t bother to hide your disdain you raised your middle finger flipping him off mouthing a silent" fuck you."

His expression didn’t change much just that same irritatingly calm look, with the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. You didn’t wait to see if he had anything to say. You let the curtain fall back into place and turned heading straight for the couch. Let him stand out there. You weren’t in the mood for whatever game he thought he yall were about to play.

That was until you heard the faint, click of the door unlocking. Your head whipped in the direction of the door heart sinking." “Oh, hell no,” you grumbled, realization hitting you that You’d completely forgotten about the spare key, the spare key that he damn well knew about you quickly scrambled toward the door, but before you could reach it, it was already swinging open. And there he was stepping inside like this was his house his calm, unbothered demeanor only fueling your anger. “C’mon, baby, let’s talk like adults,” he said smoothly, his deep voice filling the room as he shut the door behind him.

You stood rooted on to the spot your arms crossed over your chest and your eyes narrowing into a scowl that could've easily burned holes through him. The audacity of this man to just walk in after everything tonight left you speechless it was almost impressive in a sick way. “Get the fuck out!” you screamed your voice cracking with all your built-up frustration. You were done, done with his games, his arrogance, his complete disregard for your boundaries. "You're a piece of shit, Fuck you. Deadass." you pointed at him in frustration

But he didn’t flinch, didn’t even move a muscle. Onyankopon just stood there his tall frame leaning slightly against the doorframe, his body relaxed in a way that only made your blood boil more. His dark eyes stayed locked onto yours, unwavering, like he was trying to read every emotion spilling from you. He didn't interrupt, didn't defend himself, just listened calmly. “I know, I know,” he finally spoke up his voice low. “Let’s talk about why I’m a piece of shit.”

That was it. Your body reacted before your mind could, you balled up one of your hands slamming it repeatability in the palm of your hand, the force and intensity echoing in the room as you spoke. “Ouu, nigga,” you muttered your voice trembling a mix of anger and other emotions you were trying so hard to suppress. Your vision blurred slightly, your chest tightening as a familiar sting formed in your eyes. You blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears spill, but it was useless. The emotions were too strong anger, hurt, humiliation and they were all threatening to overwhelm you.

Onyankopon’s head tilted just slightly as he noticed, his brows furrowing for a brief second before smoothing out again. He didn’t say anything, didn’t make a move to comfort or provoke you further. Instead, his body remained still, except for his fingers, which lightly tapped against his forearm as if he were waiting for you to let it all out. The calmness in his posture only made you angrier. His steady breathing, the subtle rise and fall of his chest, was a stark contrast to the way your body shook with bottled-up rage and sadness. You could feel the tension radiating off him, though an energy that was barely contained beneath his cool exterior.

You stormed up to him, closing the space between you two until there were mere inches separating you. your voice came out sharp and controlled as you spat. “Nigga, I already said it you disrespectful as hell." Your hand shot up, jabbing your finger at his face, each point emphasizing your words.

Onyankopon didn’t flinch, but his jaw tensed, the muscles flexing visibly beneath his skin. His hands, previously crossed over his chest, fell to his sides as he let out a low, tired sigh. Slowly, he ran his fingers over his face, his palm dragging down from his forehead to his chin, as if trying to wipe away the tension.

“I understand,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. His eyes flickered back to yours, dark and serious. “And I apologize.” For a moment, you just stared at him, stunned by the words that came out his mouth. Then, out of nowhere, a sharp laugh escaped your lips, dry and humorless. You tilted your head back slightly as the bitter sound filled the room, your body radiating disbelief. "You're really sorry but you kept doing it?" you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm, " and then you kept doing it, rubbing that shit in my face and standing up for her. You shook your head, a short, sharp movement as if trying to shake off the absurdity of his words.

“You done?” he asked quietly, upset that you laughed at his apology when he really meant it. His head tilted ever so slightly, the smirk from earlier gone, replaced with something more serious. You let out another laugh cause no you weren't done not even close. “Oh, I’m just getting started,” you snapped, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. You leaned forward slightly, glaring up at him. “You think you can just say ‘sorry’ and everything’s cool? Nah, Ony. You don’t get to play with my feelings and then act like it’s not a big deal.”

His gaze flicked down to where your arms were crossed, his eyes lingering on the way your body was tense, practically vibrating with anger. He took a slow, deep breath, his chest rising and falling in a measured way, as if trying to steady himself.“I ain’t playin’ with your feelings, though ma,” he said, his voice softer but with a hint of frustration. His hand moved to rub the back of his neck.“You think I don’t care about you? That’s crazy. You know better than that.”

“Do I?” you shot back, uncrossing your arms and stepping even closer to him your index finger pressing into his chest. His skin was warm under your touch.“Cause everything you’ve done tonight says otherwise.”Ony looked down at your finger, then back at you, his jaw tightening again. He let out a low chuckle, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “You really think I don’t care?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave. He stepped forward, and suddenly, you were the one taking a step back.

“Say it,” his eyes locking onto yours, unblinking and intense. “Say I don’t care about you, and mean it.” You straightened your shoulders, tilting your chin up defiantly Your eyes locked onto his, “You don’t,” you said firmly, your voice steady and unwavering. There wasn’t a crack, not a hint of doubt

His smirk returned, but this time it was different, there was no amusement in the way he looked just frustration and slight confusion. “That’s cute,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he leaned even closer, his face now inches from yours.“You can say it all you want,” Onyankopon continued, his voice deep and steady, “but we both know that ain’t the truth.” His eyes searched yours, looking for any change in emotions but you didn't give him one. “You’re mad, and you’ve got every right to be. But don’t act like you don’t know where I stand.”

You stayed silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, even as your body tensed under the weight of his words. The air between you felt suffocating, heavy with unspoken emotions, but you held your ground, your eyes locked on his, daring him to push further. “You not gonna say anything, huh?”, his voice low and rough, like he was trying to keep his emotions in check. “That’s fine. I’ll talk. You think I don’t care? You think all that shit tonight was me just playin’? Nah. I know I fucked up, but don’t stand here and act like you don’t know what it is between us.”

Your jaw tightened, your hands balling into fists at your sides as you fought to maintain your composure. “What it is between us Ony?” you questioned, not feeling anything. “Ohhh, you mean the disrespect? The mind games? The way you show up, do whatever the hell you want, and think ‘sorry’ is enough to fix it?” Your voice was laced with scarsam tired of his shit.

His grip on his rings that he was playing with grew tighter,his lips pressing into a hard line as he absorbed your words. “I ain’t perfect,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. “But don’t act like I don’t care about you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”You laughed bitterly, the sound harsh in the quiet room. “Care about me?” you echoed, your voice rising. “If you cared, you wouldn’t have brought her here. If you cared, you wouldn’t have put me in that situation, making me look stupid while you sit there acting like it’s nothing.”

Ony’s eyes flickered with something guilt, maybe, or frustration but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned in even closer, your foreheads almost touching“You don’t look stupid,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You could never look stupid. I look stupid. And yeah, I messed up. I know that. That shit was childish of me." He looked into your eyes for a sign of hope a sign that you would forgive him for the bullshit he did tonight but there was nothing, your face was still stone cold.

"Whatever,"You didn’t even spare him another glance as you turned around determined to put an end to this exhausting exchange. "Go get your girl," you spat outta bitterness. But before you could take another step, you felt his hand wrap firmly around your waist." That's what I'm trying to do." The grip wasn’t harsh, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks. Heat radiated from his touch, rising up the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Don’t put your fucking hands on me,” you hissed, your footsteps halting abruptly. "Na, we not done talking," he shot back, his voice steady as his grip on your hip stayed the same. He now had your body pressed against the door frame. His body leaned forward slightly, closing the already small distance between you. “Words don’t mean shit, Ony,” you tried pushing him away from you but he couldn't budge. “Actions do. And your actions? Your actions are telling me everything I need to know.”

He exhaled slowly, his broad shoulders rising and falling with the weight of it, his eyes scanned your face as if he were trying to remember every detail to memory. His gaze lingered on your eyes, your furrowed brows, the tight set of your lips each feature showing your frustration and anger.“Then let me show you,” he said, his voice low, steady, and laced with determination. There was no hesitation in his tone, no room for doubt he fully meant what he was saying right now.

His grip on your waist shifted slightly, his fingers pressing into the curve of your hips with just enough firmness to hold you in place. His thumbs moved in slow, soothing circles it was deliberate and purposeful trying to use his touch as a reminder. Your breath hitched, and his dark eyes caught a slight falter, the flicker of something other than anger breaking through your defenses. He noticed everything, and it annoyed you how easily he read you.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a softer tone. “but I know you feel it, too.” His thumbs continued their slow path, soothing his gentle pressure drawing your attention back to him, back to the moment. Your hands hovered near your sides, unsure whether to push him away or hold him there He tilted his head slightly, his gaze searching yours for something unspoken, something he was determined to find.“Just... let me show you,” he repeated, his words even softer this time.

The two of you stood there with locked eyes the air between you thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. This one moment felt like an eternity, though it was only a matter of seconds your mind raaced with questions, your chest tightened as you tried to decipher his true intent. Could you trust him? Did he even deserve it? Meanwhile, his eyes softened slightly, but the intensity remained. It was as if he was silently pleading with you the rare vulnerability, hoping, praying you'd let down your guard once more just enough to let him in.

Then, before you could think to move or speak, Onyankopon made his decision. What he was about to do could either end with a stinging slap across his face or... something entirely different. Slowly he raised his fingers, giving you every chance to pull away if you desired. They slid underneath your chin his touch delicate, somewhat scared that you might pull away at any moment. He tilted your head upward, just slightly forcing you to look directly at him. His gaze felt so intense it made your knees feel wobbly.

Then before you could think or react, he leaned in his lips brushing against yours soft yet firm. The kiss was slow, tantalizing filled with an intensity that left you breathless. This kiss was deliberate as if he'd been waiting for this moment forever savoring every second of it.

The two of you slowly pulled away from the kiss, your breaths mingling as you lingered close, foreheads almost touching. His lips pecked against yours one last time softly, "You’re so annoying," a small laugh escaping as you turned your head to the side, trying to hide the warmth creeping up your face. Onyankopon’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, his hand still resting on your waist, his thumb gripping the fabric of your shirt. "I know, mama," he replied, his voice low and teasing, with just the slightest edge of affection. "I know."

The two of you made your way upstairs to your bedroom, the tension increasing with every second he couldn't keep his hands off you. Once inside, Onyankopon gently laid you down on the bed, your body sinking into the soft embrace of the mattress. He hovered over you, his broad shoulders blocking out the dim light from the room. His body settled between your legs, the heat radiating off him and seeping into you. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer, your ankles locking behind him. His hands gripped the sides of your thighs tightly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

Lowering himself, he leaned in and placed a series of light kisses along your neck, his lips moving slowly, each one more purposeful than the last. He adjusted his grip on your thighs, sliding his hands up toward your hips before gripping firmly again. His lips parted, and you felt his lips sucking your skin. You let out a quiet hum at the action he lingered your neck in small kisses until he got to that one spot behind your ear that drove you crazy. "I'm sorry baby, I really am." His hands went underneath the shirt you had on gripping your breast, his fingers squeezing and tugging at your nipples.

"Ony, pleaseee," you whined, impatiently as your lips curved into a small pout. Your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you in frustration, your body tense and eager. You were tired of all the teasing, the deliberate slowness of his movements. After what he did to you tonight he shouldn't have been moving this slow. His hands were firm yet gentle as they trailed up your thighs, just barely hovering over that spot you wanted him to touch so badly,"You forgive me?" his thumbs were brushing your sensitive skin with ease.

Your jaw clenched slightly at his question, the audacity of it clear in the slight raise of your brow. Absolutely not, you thought, but instead of saying anything, you pressed your lips together and stayed silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. He smirked at your lack of response, leaning back slightly. His hands moved to the waistband of your skirt, his fingers hooking under the fabric." damn it's like that?" He smirked at your lack of response, leaning back slightly. His hands moved to the waistband of your skirt, his fingers hooking under the fabric. Without breaking eye contact, he began to tug them down, his movements slow and agonizingly deliberate. The soft fabric dragged over your hips, the friction against your skin making your breath hitch.

He paused for a moment, his hands still gripping the material just above your knees, his eyes flicking back up to your face gauging your reaction. His lips curved into a subtle grin when he noticed the way your chest rose and fell, your body betraying the calm expression you tried to maintain. Ony continued pulling, the skirt slipping down your legs inch by inch, his fingertips grazing your skin as he went. Every movement felt intentional and slowed the air around you thick with tension. When he finally slid the fabric past your ankles, he tossed them aside without a second thought.

Onyankopon's large hands gripped your thighs firmly, his thumbs grazing the sensitive skin as he moved upward with agonizing slowness. His fingers hovered just over the damp fabric of your panties, his touch light but deliberate, sending a jolt of pleasure through you as he pressed down ever so slightly onto your clit. “Gotchu real quiet now,”His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched your body react to him. A soft moan escaped your lips, betraying how much his touch affected you, and you arched your hips instinctively, seeking more pressure. Onyankopon chuckled, the sound deep and rich as he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss just below your belly button.

His lips trailed downward, planting slow, deliberate kisses from the center of your stomach to the edge of your panties, just above your clit. After every kiss mumbling some incoherent nonsense you didn't care about. “Ony, stop teasinggg,” you dragged out, your voice carrying both frustration and need.

He got on his knees his hands tightened slightly on your thighs, holding you in place as his lips hovered over the damp fabric, his warm breath fanning against you. “Stop teasing?” he repeated mockingly, raising an eyebrow as his lips brushed lightly over the cloth. " maybe if you say you forgive me I will." You bit your lip, your frustration growing as his fingers traced the outline of your panties, just barely touching you. His lips pressed softly against the fabric again, adding to the building tension. "I can't, not yet."

His lips brushed against the damp fabric again, this time more intentionally, lingering just a little longer, the sensation sending a pulse of need throughout your body. Your body twitched waiting for him to hurry up.He glanced up at you through hooded eyes, watching every twitch, every shift in your expression. “You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?” as his fingers finally slid just beneath the edge of the fabric. The slight shift of his touch against your skin made your hips jerk involuntarily, but he held you steady, smirking at your reaction

His other hand slid up, fingers laying across your lower stomach to hold you in place as his thumb lazily traced circles over the edge of your thigh. The friction was just enough to make you desperate for more but not nearly enough to satisfy.

.“You’re not gonna make this easy for me, are you, mama?” he teased, his lips curving into that same smug smile that always made your blood boil—and your body betray you.He pressed another kiss, this time just below the fabric, his breath hot and tantalizing. "You can keep playing hard to get, but we both know where this is going."

"Your such a egotistical bas-" You tried to hard to tell him to fuck off but the way he's hands and mouth were working in tandem had your words caught in your throat as he took a long stripe from the bottom of your panties to the top of your clit

"Still not ready to forgive me?" he asked softly, his voice dripping with mock innocence. You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as if they’d somehow ground you. Your body was betraying you, reacting to every deliberate touch, every teasing flick of his tongue, every warm breath he exhaled against you."Not yet." you let out an airy breath, your voice barely audible but firm.

Onyankopon  chuckled again, this time lower, more satisfied."I guess I’ll just have to work a little harder then,"His grip on your thighs tightened again, pulling you just slightly closer to the edge of the bed, aligning himself perfectly between your legs. His lips pressed firmly against the center of the fabric this time, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp, your hips bucking slightly against his hold.

"Careful," he said, smirking as he held you firmly in place. "Wouldn’t want you to give yourself away."Your breathing was uneven, your chest rising and falling with every teasing motion he made. His tongue darted out, pressing against the damp spot, adding to the already unbearable heat pooling in your stomach. You bit your lip hard, refusing to let the moan threatening to escape win.

"Still not forgiving me?" he asked, his tone smug and confident. He kissed the fabric again, this time harder, the pressure sending a jolt through your body. "Guess I’ll have to keep apologizing then."

You were about to give in soon you don't think he should be forgiven just yet but you just wanted to cum and he barely even touched you. Your fingers gripped the sheets tighter as Onyankopon's actions continued, his lips and tongue tormenting you through the thin fabric of your panties. He seemed to take his time, savoring every reaction he pulled from you, every slight shift of your body, and every ragged breath you couldn’t contain. His hands held your thighs firmly, thumbs kneading gently against your skin like he was trying to keep you grounded.

When you didn’t respond to his last taunt, he chuckled, low and husky, the sound reverberating against you. "Silent treatment now?" he teased, sliding his fingers along the waistband of your panties again. He tugged on them just enough to make you squirm, his lips brushing the exposed skin right above them.

"You're only making this harder for yourself, mama," he murmured against your skin, his voice smooth. Your body betrayed you again, a soft whimper slipping out despite your best efforts to stay composed. He caught it, of course, his smirk widening as he looked up at you, his dark eyes glittering with satisfaction. "There she is."

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly began to pull your panties down, his movements unhurried, deliberate, as if he wanted to draw out every second of your anticipation. His lips followed the path of the fabric, planting soft kisses along your thighs as he worked the material lower.

By the time your panties were halfway down, his hands returned to your thighs, spreading them just slightly wider. He tilted his head, his lips pressing another kiss against your inner thigh, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just enough to make you gasp.

“Say the words, and I’ll stop,” he said, his voice quieter now, softer, as if daring you to push him away. But the way his hands moved, the way his lips lingered on your skin, it was clear he wasn’t in a rush for you to decide.

You gave up the act, the walls you had built crumbling under the weight of his persistence and your own longing. It was useless to keep fighting a battle you were never going to win, he had you cornered emotionally and physically, and deep down, you knew you couldn’t hold out any longer. Your breath hitched as the tension in the room seemed to thicken, the silence growing heavier by the second. Finally, reluctantly you said what he'd been waiting to hear." I forgive you Ony."

It was as if a switch flipped inside him. The change was instant, his entire demeanor shifting from restrained patience to hunger. He didn’t waste a single moment. You gasped, your breath catching in your throat as you felt his wet warm tongue gliding against your slit. The sensation was overwhelming your brain already feeling scrambled, but what really caught you off guard was the unexpected pressure of metal. You’d completely forgotten about his tongue piercing. It hadn’t been in earlier tonight, you were sure of it, and you had no idea when he’d decided to put it back in.

Your mouth parted, a soft moan escaping before you could stop it. The metal ball traced slow, tantalizing circles around your clit, the contrast between the cool steel and the heat of his tongue making your body tremble. " Fuckkk~" the sensations so overwhelming you felt your eyes shut tightly and your fist ball up.

“Say it one more time,” he demanded, his voice deep and commanding, But before you even got a chance to respond he quickly slid his pointer finger into you, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. “Ahh~” The sound escaped your lips as your back arched involuntarily up off the bed, the sounds of nothing but your wetness filling the air.

Your legs instinctively tried to close around his face, an attempt to contain the overwhelming sensation, but he wasn’t having it. His free hand moved with quick speed, gripping your thigh firmly and forcing your legs apart again. “Don't that shit,” The dominance in his deep voice only made the heat pooling in your core intensify.

The way he handled you, the way he spoke it was impossible to resist. Your chest heaved as you tried to steady your breathing, but it was no use. The way his finger curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot, and the intensity of all these things were driving you insane.

“Please, baby,” he said, his voice softening unexpectedly going from demanding to pleading he lifted his head slightly, his lips glistening with evidence of his work. “Say it again.” His fingers worked you with deliberate precision, his thumb brushing over your most sensitive spot in a way that made your toes curl. His lips hovered just above your skin, his breath warm and teasing as he waited for the words he so desperately wanted to hear." I forgive you Ony fuck." You had tears forming in the corner of your eyes from the pleasurable sensations.

His fingers thrust in and out of you with a steady rhythm, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. He could feel your walls clamping down around him “So fucking wet,” he muffled into your cunt and your breath hitched, your voice shaky as you moaned. The sensation of his pierced tongue pressing firmly against your clit was driving you insane.

“It’s too muchhh~,” you cooed, your voice trembling as your body began to tense up under the relentless assault of his mouth and fingers. His tongue swirled around your clit the cool metal of the barbell rubbing and teasing your most sensitive spot in ways that left you breathless. Your back arched off the bed, your hips lifting trying to escape the overwhelming sensations, but there was no relief to be found—not that you wanted any. He was everywhere, his fingers plunging deeper as he added another, the stretch intensifying the pleasure to a point that made your toes curl.

The tingling spread throughout your body your nerves alight with sensation as you gripped the sheets beneath you. “Onyyy,” you whined, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. The combination of his fingers curling inside you and his tongue sucking gently on your clit was too much yet you began grinding against his face wanting to feel more He didn’t stop his hands only holding you steady as his mouth and fingers worked in perfect harmony. You were so close that tight coil in your stomach could snap at any moment. "You're doing so good for me mama."

Your thighs trembled uncontrollably as the sensations built, the pressure in your core growing unbearable. Every thrust of his fingers, every flick and suck of his tongue sent waves of pleasure rippling through you. The cool metal of his tongue piercing seemed to amplify everything, its smooth surface gliding over your clit with a precision that left you gasping for air.

“Onyyy, please,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as you struggled to form coherent words. Your hands flew to his head, fingers tangling in his hair in a futile attempt to ground yourself. But even as you tugged gently, your body betrayed your need, rolling your hips against his face with increasing desperation.

He groaned low in his throat, the vibration sending another jolt of pleasure straight to your core."Breathe baby." he murmured between licks his deep voice rumbling against your sensitive flesh. Your body was on fire, every nerve in your body growing sensitive, Your back arched higher, your chest rising as a broken moan tore from your lips. “I-I can’t” you gasped, the words catching in your throat as the tingling sensation spread through your entire body, consuming you.

“You can,” As if to prove his point, his fingers sped up slightly, curling with even more precision, while his tongue flicked faster over your clit. The combination sent you spiraling, your body tightening as the pressure reached its peak, your eyes rolled back, toes curled, fist bawled up. With a loud cry, your body gave in, shuddering violently as the release hit you. " Fuckkk~" you gasped for air but even as you came undone beneath him, he didn’t stop, his movements slowing but never faltering.

Your body was still trembling from the first release, you soon realized he wasn’t stopping. Onyankopon’s fingers kept their relentless pace, pumping in and out of you with precision, his tongue never leaving your clit. The overstimulation hit you immediately, pulling a broken whimper from your lips. “Onyyy, wait, I—ahh!” Your plea was cut off as his piercing dragged over your clit again, the metal cool against your overheated skin. Your thighs twitched, your hips trying to pull away, but his hands gripped you firmly, holding you exactly where he wanted you.

"Stop tryna run," he groaned The sound sent a shiver through your already over-sensitive body, and you felt your walls fluttering around his fingers. “Please,” you whimpered, though you weren’t sure if you were begging him to stop or keep going. He chuckled darkly against you, the vibration against your clit making your body jolt. " Just give me one more." His fingers curled inside you, pressing against that perfect spot that made your back arch off the bed again. His tongue worked in tandem, flicking and sucking swirling around your clit, he was driving you insane you didn't know much more you could take.

Your breaths came in short, desperate gasps, your body writhing beneath him. The overstimulation blurred into another wave of pleasure, the intensity doubling as your body began to climb toward another peak.“Onyyy,” you cried out, your voice shaky and high-pitched, your hands gripping the sheets tightly You could feel the intense pressure building again faster and stronger than before the pressure in your core coiling tighter and tighter.

He didn’t let up for a second determined to pull you over the edge again. “Let go,” he murmured against you, his voice a deep rumble that sent a shiver through you. His words were all it took. Your second climax washed over you harder and stronger than the first your body convulsing as you let out a loud, broken moan. Your vision blurred, your mind going blank as the overwhelming pleasure consumed you completely. He groaned in satisfaction, holding you steady as your body trembled uncontrollably beneath him. Even as the aftershocks coursed through you, his tongue slowed but didn’t stop, lazily drawing out every last bit of sensation making sure to not leave any small drop anywhere but his mouth. You were completely worn out already, your chest wavering as you tried to catch your breath, your body limp and trembling in his hands.

"You're evil," your voice shaky and hoarse as you tried to regain your breath. Onyankopon let out a breathy chuckle, his dark eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and need, His lips were slightly swollen, and his skin glistened in the dim lighting with sweat and your release. He looked utterly wrecked, yet still completely in control, a man who knew exactly what he was doing to you. “You can handle it,” he stated simply.

Before you could catch even a moment's breath the metallic click of his belt buckle echoed in the air, Your eyes widened as you watched him, every movement slow and calculated, giving you just enough time to anticipate what was coming. He pulled the belt free, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud, his hands already working to free himself. “Ony, wait,” you started to say, but your words faltered as he leaned forward, his hands gripping your hips with a firm but gentle hold.

Your body was still trembling, sensitive and overstimulated, but that didn’t seem to faze him. He stroked his length once, twice, and your breath hitched as you took in the sight of him. The raw intensity in his gaze made your stomach flip, heat pooling low in your abdomen despite your exhaustion." I know you can take it, baby."

He pressed the swollen head of his length against your entrance, the warmth of him making you gasp. Your body was still slick, your sensitivity making every sensation sharper, more overwhelming. He didn’t rush, though. Instead, he moved with deliberate slowness sliding the tip of his head up and down your slick slit, the friction igniting every nerve throughout your body. "onyyyy" The smooth glide of his skin against yours had your body reacting in ways you couldn’t control—your hips twitching, your thighs trembling, your breath hitching with every deliberate motion.

"what baby?" He asked his voice so carefree as if he wasn't torturing you right now. The weight of his gaze on you was almost as intense as the sensations he was creating. He kept his movements slow, dragging the head of his cock over your clit in a way that made your back arch off the bed. The swollen tip pressed against the sensitive bundle of nerves just long enough to have you gasping before he slid it back down, teasing your entrance but never fully pushing in.

"Put it in, please." Your thighs quivered, and your hips moved on their own trying to angle yourself to take him in, but he held you in place, his grip firm as his hands rested on your hips, thumbs pressing into your skin in a way that grounded you. "Patience." He continued his torturous teasing, the head of his length sliding just barely inside before pulling back out, leaving you aching and desperate.

Your hands flew to his forearms, nails digging into his skin as you tried to ground yourself, the teasing becoming too much. Your breaths came in short, shallow pants, your chest rising and falling as he dragged the tip of his cock over your entrance one last time before finally pausing, the heat of him pressed firmly against you.

He finally pushed into you his thick length pressing into your entrance at a slow agonizing pace, his cock stretched you out immediately, your walls squeezing against him as he sank deeper inch, by inch filling you up completely. "ahh" a choked gasp escaped your lips, your body tensing at the overwhelming sensations of his stretching you out. "Relax mama" ony mumbled against your skin, his lips brushed against your collarbone, placing soft kisses against your neck as he continued to ease himself into you.

His large hands gripped your waist firmly his thumb stroking small circles around your skin to try to relax you, A deep, soft groan rumbled from his chest, the sound vibrating through you, making your body quiver in response. His head dipped lower, and his forehead came to rest against your shoulder " You know I love you right?" Something about the way he said it raw made your stomach flip. It wasn’t just the words, though. It was the way he looked at you, his gaze, the way his hands gripped you like he never wanted to let go. You could tell he was about to go ham on your insides.

“Ony,” you said flatly, your voice deadpan as you tried to maintain composure. You turned your head just enough to look at him, catching the barest hint of a smirk on his lips. He didn’t flinch, didn’t waver. His dark eyes stayed locked on yours, and he repeated himself, his voice softer this time. “You know I love you, right?” You replied, your tone a mix of anticipation"Yea."

Without hesitation, Onyankopon hooked your legs over his broad shoulders, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs to hold you firmly in place. The shift in position lifted your hips slightly off the bed, angling your body just enough for him to delve even deeper. The stretch was immediate and intense, making your breath hitch as the new angle allowed him to hit spots that had you seeing stars.

He wasted no time, thrusting into you with relentless precision, each stroke was so deep. His hips snapped forward with a steady rhythm, his cock dragging along your walls with a mix of pleasure and pressure that left you gasping. each one hitting a spot inside you that made your toes curl. The force of his thrusts had your body shifting up the bed. The slick sound of your body meeting filled the room, “Fuck,” his voice hoarse, his grip tightening as he picked up his pace. “You’re taking me so well, mama.”

“Ahh—Ony!” you cried out, your voice shaky and high-pitched as you felt the intensity of his pace. Your walls clenched around him tightly, desperate to hold onto him, Your head pressed back into the pillows, your hands clawing at the sheets as you tried to hold on, but the intensity was too much. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the room, mixed with your moans and his low grunts. Your hands flew to his arms, clutching onto his biceps as you tried to steady yourself, but the overwhelming pleasure made it impossible to hold still. “Hah—o-please!” you whimpered, your voice breaking as his cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you.

“Please what, baby?” he rasped, His eyes never left your face, watching every expression, every gasp, every moan that spilled from your lips. His thumb traced over your skin briefly before he grabbed your hips harder, pulling you down onto him with each thrust. Your entire body trembled, your legs quivering over his shoulders as he leaned in slightly, pressing you further into the mattress. The new depth made you cry out, your hands gripping at his arms desperately as your body writhed beneath him. “Onyyy—I can’t!” you managed to choke out, though your body betrayed you, hips bucking up to meet his every thrust.

And as if the overwhelming sensations weren’t enough, Onyankopon’s thumb dropped down to your swollen clit pressing firmly against the swollen bud rubbing slow, deliberate circles your whole body jerked. A pornographic moan tore from your lips, the combination of his relentless thrusts and the added stimulation pushing you to the brink. Your back arched off the bed, your fingers clutching at the sheets “Oh—Onyyy!” you wailed, your voice trembling as your hips bucked involuntarily, trying to escape the intensity.

"Don't fucking do that shit." he didn’t slow down, his thumb continuing its maddening rhythm, rubbing over your clit with just the right amount of pressure to have your toes curling. Your thighs trembled against his shoulders, your body completely at his mercy as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. “Onyyy—I c-can’t!” you stammered, your voice breaking as your walls clenched down on him tightly, trying to pull him even deeper.“You can take it,” he murmured, his voice soft but commanding, his thumb applying just a little more pressure as he sped up the circles on your clit. he watched every twitch, every gasp, every helpless moan that spilled from your lips. “You’re gonna take it, mama. All of it.”

The intensity was unbearable, your back arched off the bed every nerve in your body was on fire as his cock continued to hit that perfect spot inside you, and his thumb worked your clit with precision. Your body shook uncontrollably as the sensations built higher and higher, your vision blurred, your breaths coming in ragged pants as the tension coiled tighter and tighter in your abdomen, ready to snap at any second.

"I'm close so ony" you whimpered, your voice trembling as your walls fluttered and clenched around him tightly. He groaned low in his throat, the sensation almost enough to break his own self-control. The way you gripped him was insane pulling him deeper, tighter but nonetheless, he was always gonna make you cum before him. “C’mon, mama. Let it go for me.” His hips kept their steady, deliberate rhythm, plunging into you with precision, each thrust dragging against that perfect spot inside you that had you seeing stars.

Your head fell back against the pillow, a string of broken moans spilling from your lips as the pressure built higher and higher. The way his cock dragged against your walls, the firm strokes of his thumb, the weight of his body pressed against yours—it was all too much, the pleasure mounting to an unbearable peak. “I’m not stopping until you give it to me.” The sound of his voice, the commanding yet tender tone, pushed you over the edge. Your back arched violently off the bed, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as the wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your body clenched around him, trembling as you rode out the intense high, every nerve ending alight with sensation. "That's it, baby. Good job."

Onyankopon didn’t stop, his relentless thrusts driving you further into the mattress as he chased his own release. The air around you was heavy with the sound of his heavy breathing, your cries of pleasure, and the wet, slap of skin against skin. His movements became slightly erratic, sloppy even as he was teetering on the edge of his climax, yet he still maintained enough control to make sure you felt every stroke. “Where you want it, mama?” his voice sounded strained even though he tired not to.

You were completely undone, your body trembling beneath him, your mind fogged with pleasure. Despite how fucked out you felt, you managed to muster enough strength to respond. “In me, please,” you gasped, your voice breaking into a desperate cry. “Fuck,” he groaned, his hips snapping harder against yours as his restraint began to unravel. He shifted slightly, angling his hips just right so that every thrust hit that sensitive spot deep inside you, making you shudder and cling to him even tighter.

“You sure, baby?” he asked, his tone softer now as if giving you one last chance to change your mind. Your legs locked around him pulling him in even closer. “Please, Ony,” you whimpered That was all he needed. His grip on your hips tightened, his pace quickening as he chased his high. Each thrust was deliberate, powerful, driving into you with a force that left you breathless. His forehead pressed against yours, his eyes squeezing shut as he finally let go, spilling into you with a deep, throaty groan." fuck baby." a quiet moan slipped outta his mouth making you wanna cum right there.

You felt the warmth of him fill you, the sensation pushing you to the edge one more time. Your body clenched around him instinctively, milking him for everything he had as you cried out, your own release blending with his. He collapsed onto you, his weight comforting rather than overwhelming as his breaths came out ragged and uneven.

Ony’s strong hand wrapped firmly around your neck bringing you closer until your lips met his in a heated kiss. You tasted your fluids that lingered on his lips His pierced tongue traced a slow, teasing line across your lips, the cool metal adding a tantalizing contrast to the warmth of his touch. As your mouth parted and his tongue pressed against yours, his fingers squeezed your neck slightly his head tilting slightly to deepen the kiss before he pulled away. “You forgive me for real mama?” he murmured against your lips, his voice having genuine sincerity in them, as he held you close.

" Yes Ony I forgive you for real."

[girlystories]

Being the Bowers gang girl

*ೃ::Both platonic & romantic headcanon

– pairings: various x reader

addition warnings: swearing, bullying, very few depictions of sexism, few derogatory names, toxicity, abusive parenting.

words: 2.6k

this was entirely inspired by z0mbiekittyy, so please check them out!

Meeting/joining the gang

you were at first the quiet, loner girl who kept to herself, only having a few acquaintances, with very few friends.

it wasn't because you were a loser. only the opposite. everyone wanted to become friends with you or get to know you in some way but you never let anyone get close.

everyone had heard of you of course. when they realized you were different they stopped trying to read you or make their mind about you.

that was until greta keene couldn't get enough. she hated the attention you got. so one day she started spreading rumors about you.

it was relatively easy, since no one knew you enough to disprove them in any way. one word went to another and everyone in town now started talking shit about you.

despite that, you didn't care. you had your mind somewhere else. popularity and school drama weren't your thing.

you didn't mind hearing the remarks spat at you when you wandered the halls or when you were in class. you were completely and utterly unbothered.

word got fast that it even reached the all too feared bowers gang.

you were making your way to biology class when you were shoved against a locker, all your books falling one by one on the floor.

"well well well, if it isn't derry's most favored whore", henry was the first to indulge in the act.

he was followed by vic, or – as he liked to refer to him as his 'right-man', "hey, hank. why haven't we ever tried to mess with her before?"

you tried to back up slowly, but your back hit against another frame. when you looked up your eyes met with a pair of green ones, followed by an unsettling smile.

it seemed like no one noticed what was happening – or in better words, no one gave a shit about what was happening.

"dont worry, [name], we're not gonna kill you, jeez," belch revealed.

that made henry groan and turn his head towards his friend. "shut up."

patrick, still behind you, held onto your shoulders, which was very easy due to his height. "or we will, you will find out soon."

"both of you shut up," henry silenced them before it could escalate to something else. "so, how about you come with us for a ride? ya'know, get some air n' stuff."

"you mean like skipping school?", you asked.

"why? are you scared? I'm sure your reputation is as shitty as it can get. can't get any worse than that. even ours is better."

you shrugged, and just decided to follow them. just as you sat at your seat – between vic and patrick, you couldn't make out the read ahead of you, as they were driving recklessly. where you were, you hadn't the slightest clue.

they were laughing and howling, sometimes shouting at the drives passing by.

you? well, you were scared shitless. you clung onto your seat belt, and holding back the urge to start shrieking.

after a while you got used to it and had to admit deep down it was kinda fun.

when you stopped, you realized you were at a junkyard. they prepared a fire when the sun began to set down and opened some bottles of beer.

as you all circled around the fire you began to talk about whatever. you also found yourself to... tolerate them. or, better yet, even enjoy their company.

before you knew it, little by little you hang more and more with them, slowly becoming one of them. it was the first time you were a part of something. they felt like home and you could trust them, despite the hardships and more extreme emotional outbursts.

your reputation got even worse but you didn't care. you had found your people.

Activities

other than hanging out in the junkyard, you guys do other stuff (of course).

it's like you all live together, while you also don't. frequent sleepovers, meet-ups on each other houses take place, ect.

vic once convinced you all to go camping a few towns away. despite being the one who recommended the idea, he ended up despicing it. on the other hand, patrick who hated the idea ended up having the most fun. scaring vic by hiding bugs in his tent and pretending he was hearing bears or wolves. belch had enough and kept demanding they'd stop fighting, while you kept laughing at vic's reactions everytime. you never went camping again.

every morning belch picks everyone in order, first henry, then patrick, then you, and lastly – the sleeping queen himself: vic.

then, you make a stop at the local diner, everyone choosing their own specific order that the waitress had already memorized.

unless vic had a hangover from the party the day before, he wouldn't stop complaining about who-knows-what.

sometimes, when you were really bored, you'd go out of town in search of abandoned places, owning them for a while until someone else found them and ruined them almost immediately.

it was expected and common sense you'd show up at ever party. then you all would split for a while but meet up in order to leave. belch was in priority not to drink or get high until anyone else got a license. that's what you all agreed on but that possiblility seemed unlikely.

at school you avoided bullying anyone, but giving up on trying to stop them from terrosizing another kid since it was the only thing they ignored you on. the only time you fought back was to defend yourself. not that you needed to, but because you wanted them to know that you weren't as incompetent as you seemed.

when you had the change you'd shoot empty beer bottles with henry's dad's gun.

Henry Bowers

you and henry would share your deep wounds together. him about his alcoholic and insane old man, and you about your hard time fitting in, both in family and friends.

you would joke around, but to an extent. if you said the wrong thing he'd refuse to speak to you for days, weeks or maybe even months – depending how much it affected him. if he was too stubborn, vic would have to somehow find a way to talk him out of his bitchy attitude.

despite him trying to seem hard-shelled, deep down he was very sensitive. he knew you knew that, and he hated it. it was the only thing he hated about you except the fact that tend to be pushy sometimes.

he had never cried in front the guys, but one day he couldn't hold back when he was only with you. it happened only once, but he still feels humiliated about it and hopes you'd never bring it up. he made you swore to never tell anyone.

butch seemed to like you for a reason, only approving of you from the gang. he hated the rest. when you find yourself at their house, he'd warmly greet you.

at first he and patrick made a lot of sexist joke about you. later when he noticed you went silent you, he started using them less, only saying them once or twice.

always offers you cigarettes, and makes sure to buy your favorites.

sometimes (when he's not in a shitty mood) he pays for your food when you go at the diner without saying a word or giving you the chance to convince him otherwise.

all good things considered, let's be honest here cuz we all know he has more negative that good qualities.

for example; gets jealous super easily and gets mad at you for it, making you apologize for something that isn't your fault.

NEVER admits he's wrong. ever.

when you have a different opinion he tells you to shut up or straight up threatens you.

needs a lot of attention, while also can't have on his tail all the time, making him indecisive and confusing.

sometimes doesn't realize you need help and leaves you deal with your problems alone while you clearly do need some sort of hand.

still, you always have a way to be together again, unable to keep any distance between you both. on weekends you usually take the bus to his house, helping him with the choses around the farm.

Vic Criss

you and vic already knew each other from middle school. you were in the same class and he used to help you with homework.

then, when kids started growing up through that phase everybody did about that sort of rivalry against girls and boys. because of that, your 'friendship' fell apart.

you weren't really friends back then but you could've been.

he never admitted it but he always stared at you from away, wishing you would somehow start talking to each other again.

he was the one who convinced henry to approach you that day. the idea popped into his mind just as those rumors started going around.

he was glad henry agreed. even though he always did, he was anxious of saying no. later, he lied to you, saying it was henry's idea instead and that first interaction you had with him was henry's way of being kind (despite calling you a 'whore').

you and vic were close, in a different way you were with the others. he understood you better and he was very good at telling advice. he was also fun gossiping with. definitely the best when having a sleepover. the others found him annoying or bitchy about it, but with you he was himself.

he also was kinda subtle about his true personality, not showing his true small but intresting quirks only you knew.

speaking of gossiping, almost every weekend he crashed at your place, the excuse being his siblings giving him a headache, while his mom being 'a pain in the ass'.

everytime he had a problem with the others you would be the first to know. he was still henry's 'right-man', but sometimes henry was, well... henry.

at parties he'd get wasted and you'd be 100% sure he'd be found in the bathroom pucking his guts out.

you guys are so close he would be showering while you were doing your business at the toilet, gossiping about everything single detail.

still sometimes helps you with school after some persuation, but keeps reminding you that 'he is not your tutor'.

loves braiding your hair when you're hanging out, especially during class when it's something super boring (even for him).

Patrick Hockstetter

you were honestly pretty scared of patrick at first, and most definitely the only one from the gang who gave you the creepes.

the alligations weren't few, to say the least, and at first you kept your distance from him.

he also didn't try to make a move on you, which you found stange, yet grateful. maybe henry threatened him or something. either way you were considerably on good terms with patrick.

one day at school, while you were waiting for the other three to come at your usual spot during break, he offered you a cigarette. you received it with gratitude, since it was rare for an offer coming from patrick. he even stricked up a conversation, which was... maybe a bit thought provoking.

then he smirked – that one charismatic he wore when you would stop being able to read his mind. he was like a puzzle, but most pieces were missing or switched with incorrect ones. "are the rumors true?", he asked, closing his zippo with a 'click' after he light your cigarette.

"i dont think that you care if they're true or not," you answered back, the tobacco filling your lungs with nicotine.

clouds of smoke escaped his nostrils with each chuckle. "maybe."

on your ride home Black Sun Morning by Screaming Trees was playing from the radio and you found yourself singing alongside patrick. he rose his brows, "you know 'em?"

"duh, of course."

the next day on the ride to school, instead of gossiping with vic you ended up having a deep conversation with patrick about music. you never imagined that you'd be having a conversation about art with him of all people.

since then, you hit it off well. he stopped using sexist comments as well, and even attempted physical contact at the diner, brushing his fingers against your hair. when he realized you let him or try to stop him, he smiled to himself.

in the end you were usually seen together, you sitting on his lap during breaks or at the gym stands, in the car or diner. he would wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder. it was making the others sick.

sometimes you attempted to help him with homework, but he only agreed so you could just hangout. he wasn't really interested in attending college. the thing he was good at was certainly playing the guitar. both bass and lead guitar. vic jokes about him making a band but it something told you he didn't view it as a light joke.

one day he invited you to his house to show you his vinyls and discs. that's when you met his mother and was pretty surprised to find out she was vietnamese. he made sure to never speak vietnamese around you or the others.

when meeting you he became less... interested at the fridge at the junkyard, viewing it less and less. maybe therapy was starting to work out? even for a tiny bit.

extremely protective of you, especially at parties. makes sure to keep an eye out even though you wouldn't know it.

Belch Huggins

belch was the most chill and the most independent one of the gang. aways making sure everything was in check and going smoothly. it was no surprise he was super welcome to you and tried to make you at ease the first few weeks, asking you if you were okay or needed a ride home.

is a gentleman, of course. doesn't tolerance any disrespect towards you, no matter how small it may seem to you.

offeres to pay for you when going out, no matter how many times you don't let him.

one time you both got so drunk you couldn't stop laughing; your bellys hurting and your eyes filled with tears while your faces were bright red. it made henry mad (as usual) but it's a memory you'd never forget. you had no way to get back home, though.

on fridays you watch him play basketball, sitting at the stands, and smoking and encouraging him. sometimes vic or patrick came too, but it was very rarely.

he offers you the ball but you immediately decline, being reminded of the day the ball hit you in the face after you missed your shot.

you requested him to teach you how to drive, which was a bad idea honestly. at first you didn't understand his instructions at all, but when he asked you if you had any questions you lied saying 'no'. after that instead of stepping on going forward you accidentally went backwards, almost crashing his beloved trams-am that he named 'daisy'. then you turned the wheel too far, almost falling at a ditch before he saved you two.

swore that you'd never get a license in your life and forbid you anywhere near the wheel, not even the passengers seat.

his dad owes a workshop, fixing cars. he helped too, supporting him in any way he could. you also helped him here and there while he taught you the basics and answered any questions you had.

he promised that he'd let you fix a car entirely on your own without his help. he said he'd also let you keep it for free.

you have a drawer contained only of belch's clothes. at first you'd ask him to try his sweatshirts on. then you'd complain you were cold and he'd sigh, saying you could give it back another day. but you never did.

you loved it when he gave you biggyback rides. his, especially. he could never refuse, despise how tired he was.

[moonhoures]

I Can See You

🕷️ kinktober — day 20: office sex 🕸️

pairing: sangyeon (the boyz) + reader (afab/fem)

genre: non-idol!au, coworkers!au, smut

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, explicit smut, secret relationship, sex in a storage closet at work, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex

word count: ~1.2k

synopsis: your work has a strict no dating policy, but rules are made to be broken, right?

a/n: yes, i did base this off of ‘i can see you’ by taylor swift, shoutout to all my fellow swifties 💜

posted: october 20, 2023

It had started with a bump of shoulders in the hallway. You were the new girl at your job, having only started two days prior. Your office wasn’t even completely settled in yet, just a lonely desk, chair, and mini fridge with no personality attached to it. But on that fateful third day, you were hurrying across your floor to meet with your assigned trainer, hoping to catch her before she took off for her lunch. That’s when you met him, unceremoniously at that, bumping against him in the hallway as a result of you being too busy looking down at your emails. But when you looked up to profusely apologize, you were met with the sight of the most beautiful man you’d ever laid eyes on. He had the features of a Calvin Klein model and the wardrobe of a CEO, but you could tell he was just a low-level executive like you were.

“No problem, sweetheart,” he responded with a polite smile, unbothered by your clumsiness. He even had the heart to offer to help you to your trainer’s office but you declined, mostly out of embarrassment. Little did you know, he had found your reaction extremely cute.

You had found out his name was Sangyeon. And he spent the new few weeks using any and every opportunity he had to get you alone and talk. In the copy room. In the lunch room. In the hallway after the exec meetings. Even on the walk to your car after punch-out time. Usually, if it was any other guy, you would find the behavior off putting, but it was him. Admittedly, you were falling for him.

All of the flirtatious mannerisms and private conversations came to a head on the night of a staff dinner. All the executives went out together after clocking out one Friday, and at the end of the night, Sangyeon offered to walk you to your car as he often did. Though, this time, with none of your coworkers around, he asked to kiss you. And you let him. And in the following weeks, you two began a relationship that could only be described as hot-blooded.

You two took turns visiting each other’s apartments for a secret rendezvous, but you keep everything professional at work. It was tough, but, man, was it exciting. It felt like a game sometimes, seeing how much you could get away with without making anything obvious. The fleeting glances. The secret touches. The stolen conversations in hallways. The notes left in each other’s desk drawers.

Sangyeon lived for the thrill of getting caught, often urging you to meet him in the bathroom during odd times of the day or meet him at a nearby abandoned parking lot for lunch to keep your meetings out of the eye of your coworkers. Each time, you left him while adjusting your skirt or some misplaced hair and he fixed his tie.

After one exec meeting, you followed the crowd out of the door, turning towards the direction of your office. And just after you turned the corner, you saw Sangyeon waiting for you at the end of the hallway, a knowing smile on his lips. He gave you a pointed look, then he was disappearing around the next corner. That usually meant he left something at your desk. Sure enough, once you opened your drawer you saw a note that had scrawled on it ‘meet me @ closet in 5’.

Five minutes later, you were being pulled into the storage closet at the far end of your floor where no one seemed to go as it was mostly only used for the fire escape. Sangyeon had his hands on you as soon as the door shut, his jacket was already knocked onto the floor, but he didn’t seem to care.

“You look so beautiful today,” he complimented you as he kissed your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck. All the while, his large hands were cupping the flesh of your thighs and ass over your skirt, “Couldn’t stop staring at you in the meeting.”

“I know, I’m starting to think Changmin is getting suspicious of us,” you giggled, your own hands grasping at his waist.

“I don’t care,” he admitted between kisses left along the side of your neck, “Wish I could tell everyone in this whole building that you’re mine.”

“You know we can’t,” you said, though you smiled at his words anyways. Your work had a no dating policy, and from what Sangyeon had told you, it was pretty strict. You were still too new to put your job in jeopardy for such a policy, but you didn’t mind your affair behind closed doors.

“One day,” he spoke those words like a promise, just as he was finishing unbuckling his belt. In minutes, he had his cock out (red and weeping for you) and your skirt bunched up around your hips. He grasped onto one of your legs, hoisting it up against his waist as he fed his dick between your thighs, wetting it between your folds. A content sigh left his lips at the sensation he had begun to know all too well, reveling in it.

“I have work I need to finish, Sangyeon,” you reminded him, tugging on his tie to bring him to reality. This only made him kiss you, passionately, in a way that had you forgetting you were even at work in the first place. Then you were the one sighing as he filled you to the brim with his cock, your walls clenching around him as they took in his girth.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whispered, taking a tighter hold on you as he began thrusting into you.

Your back thumped softly into the wall behind you with every bump and grind. The room was quickly filled with the sounds of you two fucking as well as the sounds of your heavy breathing and sorry attempts to keep your moans quiet. Sangyeon preferred to cover your mouth with his hand, liking the way you looked, but sometimes it wasn’t enough. So he ended up swallowing your moans himself, kissing you and moaning back against your lips.

“Tell me you’re close,” he said, feeling his orgasm approaching. His hot, ragged breath was warming your collarbones as he smothered the base of your neck with his gentle kisses, extra careful not to leave any marks on your skin.

“I am, just- just a little bit longer,” you assured him, squeezing his cock inside of you. That only made him let out a choked groan resembling an expletive. His hips hastened, and he urged you to cum for him. The sound of his sweet voice encouraging you did wonders, and soon you were cumming over him, making a mess of the both of you.

Luckily, this wasn’t your first rodeo, so he gifted you with a kiss to your temple before he reached over for the box of tissues he used to wipe you both. Once the two of you looked pretty decent, he gave you a few, chaste kisses before making his way down the hall to the bathroom on his side of the floor. You couldn’t help admiring the way he walked so confidently in his suit, adjusting his tie as he disappeared around the corner. You wondered how long it would take for him to find the note you had slipped into his pocket that read:

‘Meet me tonight. x’

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @wonrangwoo @pedriswrld @ikykleeknowww @odisdad @abby-grace @jungwonloveer @pinklemonadeflav @celestialplatinum @luvkpopp @nlklstan @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @bekah931215 @heerinnie @fairygirl18 @cinnikoi @im-ur-calico-cat @unlikelysublimekryptonite @k-drizzle @iguanas-world

[stratossphere]

do you have a part 2 planned to the jealously v.v fic? because 👀 people would kill for a jealous smut

mine. | v.v

ville’s jealousy doesn’t take much to rear its ugly head. and you know it.

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), enough possessiveness to kill a man, getting walked in on, blatant exhibitionism

word count: 7.7k (sorry!!! plot!!!)

a/n: this isn’t exactly a pt. 2, but it is a jealous smut! sorry it took so long to get to this ask but this has been sitting in my drafts for a while so here you go :)

tags: @asskickedbygirl @lieutenant-cinnamon-roll @kissofdawn666 @brandons-wife @valos-venus-doom @ghoulishguns @4377666 @d34c1

— —

Sometimes, you wondered how the hell Ville had so many 'friends'. All around the world, wherever you went together, he always knew somebody. And, tonight in Amsterdam, he apparently knew a lot of people. He insisted they weren't his friends, because Ville was about the opposite of a people person, and yet they acted like long lost brothers when they'd all seen each other after HIM's show.

And, of course, you were the only girl in the entire apartment that we had migrated to for the night. Everyone else was either a member of a band you'd never heard of or was a tattoo artist of some kind, and everyone was either ridiculously trashed or smelled ridiculously bad.

So yeah. The night was going great.

You were currently sitting on a couch with what had been Ville and some dude that he'd apparently done shows with on HIM's first ever tour, but Ville kept getting up, so you kept being left alone with his grimy friend. Who clearly had a thing for you, because every time Ville would get up for something, his arm would move to rest on the back of the couch behind your head.

"I’ve never seen a woman that could hold real drinks like you can.” Sometimes men made you wonder how they ever caught any game. This guy especially, considering how many times he’d tried lines on you in the short amount of time Ville had been away from your side.

"How many women have you seen?" You were trying to hold an unbothered tone despite being extremely uncomfortable and extremely close to snapping on this guy, but you couldn't help but make a tiny, unnoticeable dig. He leaned into the arm behind you a little more, and you silently prayed that Ville would come back with the drink he had left to go get soon.

"I'm around one right now. I'm just saying, I'm impressed." He grinned like he'd just nailed the best compliment ever given, and all you did was sigh and take a long sip of your drink as you looked away from him again.

"Thanks." Great. Your drinking skills had impressed someone that probably shot up on his weekends. You didn't want to think too hard about what that had to say about you.

"So, how long have you and Ville been together?" Jesus Christ. It seemed like men who assumed girls would fuck them just because they were confident never had any humility. It made you glad you had ended up dating the man who was about as uninterested in using his lead-singer position to impress or manipulate as one could possibly get.

"A few years. So uh, pretty serious." You said, giving him a pointed look and then glancing at his arm where it was getting painfully close to being around your shoulders. He obviously didn't take the hint, and it felt like he was only leaning in closer.

"Yeah? Where'd he go?" That was clearly a pointed statement, and as you leaned a little bit away whilst considering how much of a problem it would cause if you just nailed this fucker right in the face, you suddenly spotted your saving grace coming back into the living room as he loudly talked to some other dude that was in the same band as the guy sitting next to you. You breathed out a sigh of relief as you pointed right towards Ville.

"He's right there." Your movement seemed to draw Ville's attention, and as soon as he was actively looking in your direction, you gave him a look that pleaded for him to get you out of the situation that he had left you in. As soon as his eyes moved from you to the guy sitting ridiculously close by this point, he stopped talking and his jaw squared. You immediately felt the guy's arm withdraw from behind you when he followed where you were pointing.

"Oh, uh...Jesus. He really knows how to sneak up on a fucker." He tried to play his nervousness off with a laugh, but you could see him subtly moving away from you with every step that Ville took towards the both of you. "Hey, man! Did you bring beers for all of us?"

"It's for her. Get fucking lost." He had shifted into full death-stare mode, and he was standing directly in front of the guy with a beer in each hand. You held a hand over your mouth to cover your grin as the guy spluttered in the face of your boyfriend looming over him.

"What—"

"Get fucking lost. You're in my spot." This time Ville motioned aggressively for him to get up, and you had never seen a person move faster in your life as he shot up from the couch. Ville shouldered him as the guy walked past, muttering something you couldn't hear before he was replacing his spot on the couch and immediately wrapping his arm around your shoulders with that stare still on his face. "And don't fucking look over here, either."

Once again, you had your hand over your mouth to hide your beaming grin, and the guy just tried to act like he was scoffing Ville's snap at him off before he walked away.

"You should've came and got me." Ville said through his teeth as he opened your beer for you before handing it over. You rested your cheek against his shoulder, thankful to have him back next to you again so that you weren't stuck alone surrounded by kind-of disgusting rockstars.

"I mean, what do you expect, babe? I'm the only girl in this entire apartment right now." You said calmly, not really all that affected by it now that Ville was next to you again. He only let out a huff.

"I don't give a shit. It makes me want to fucking kill someone when you get that look on your face." He said tightly, referring to the uncomfortable look you’d given him when he'd come into the living room. You leaned up to kiss his cheek, smiling against his skin.

"You're so sweet." You cooed, noticing that despite the fact that you were giving him a kiss, he in no way acknowledged you or even glanced in your direction. Upon following his gaze, you realized that he could still see the guy that had now moved to the kitchen, and he was still staring. You ran a hand over his hair. "Ville. Honey, relax. It's okay."

"No it's not. No one needs to be getting that close to you." He muttered, finally looking at you when you continued to push his hair back out of his face and behind his ears. "I'm surprised you put up with it for that long."

"Well, he's your friend. I didn't want to start a big thing." You shrugged, wrapping your arm around his shoulders so that you could be closer to him where his was still wrapped around yours while you drew your legs up to your chest. He spat out a scoff at that.

"That dick is not my fucking friend. And even if he was, I still wouldn't care. You could punch Mige if he ever got that close and I'd understand." He insisted, speaking fast and harshly out of hatred. "I shouldn't have brought you here. I promise I won't leave you until we're ready to go."

Thankfully, with every beer that he drank, Ville seemed to lose interest in his proclaimed worst enemy for the night, and you finally felt able to relax as he slowly gave up the hatred that had been brimming inside of him. That was, until Mige showed up with an apprehensive look on his face.

“Uh…I’ve got something you probably want to know.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced back toward the kitchen. You let out a sigh as Ville perked up at that, his hand slipping under your shirt to rub your lower back where his arm had moved to wrap loosely around your waist. He was clearly trying to relax you, but you had already noticed the way he was heating up all over again. It didn’t take much. Mige motioned for you to lean in like he was going to tell you a secret.

"You know Esa? The drummer who used to huff spray paint?" He said, motioning back like you were going to see him standing right behind him. You immediately felt Ville fully stiffen next to you before he was wrapping his arm around your shoulders and almost around your neck as a result, and using your innate ability to pick up context clues, you assumed that Esa was who had been sitting next to you on the couch.

"What. What the fuck did he do." All of that animosity that had been in Ville's voice 15 minutes ago had come violently shooting back, and you rolled your eyes as you shoved your fingers between you and Ville's arm so that he wasn't squeezing you so tight and possessively.

"He is talking ridiculous amounts of shit about you in the kitchen. Things that we wouldn't even say." Mige announced, shaking his head as he said it. His tone of voice told me he didn't exactly feel great about saying that in the face of what was becoming Ville's furious stare. "And he's uh...talking about your 'hot ass' girlfriend."

Ville immediately moved like he was going to stand up, but you stopped him with a tight hand on his arm, giving him a look that warned him not to act impulsively. Ville usually lost sight of his senses when he was even the slightest bit irritated. Especially when it involved you.

"Y/n, let me go." He was speaking through his teeth, and he pulled in your grasp but not actually standing up. Mige watched this with amusement in his eyes but didn’t yet interject as you bickered back and forth with your overzealous boyfriend.

"You promised you wouldn't leave me again, so don't." You warned, tipping your head so that you could give him a death stare. "Take a fucking pill, Ville. Everything is fine."

"Yeah. Take a fucking pill, Ville." Mige goaded, snickering when he saw Ville force himself to relax under your direction. Ville did, however, reach out his long leg and kick Mige's chair back a good foot or so.

This was clearly not working for calming Ville’s nerves, and you sighed before excusing both him and yourself to give him some space to decompress. You knew he was more than antsy, and that the incident with Esa had thrown him off indefinitely for the night, so you were quick to get him alone for everyone else’s sake.

So, a few minutes later in the bathroom, you turned on him with an unimpressed look on your face.

"What's wrong, honey?" You asked, biting the bullet because he clearly looked both incurably miserable and uneasy. He immediately spun around so that he was fully facing you.

"I want to strangle that fucking cunt and then drown him in a puddle of my fucking piss." He spat, one fist clenching while he jabbed a finger back towards where the party was still going on past the bathroom door with his other hand. You snorted at that.

"That's really descriptive. Thank you." You said painfully, taking his hand where it was balled up in a fist and gently uncurling his fingers. "We can go if you've had enough."

"I'm not that much of a bitch." He sighed woefully, letting his hand fall limply at his side once you'd undone his angry fist and then continuing to mope as you moved behind him to press yourself against his back and wrap your arms around his hips over his belt.

"If it makes you feel any better, he’s really fucking ugly." You mumbled as you slipped your hands under his shirt to rub your warm palms over his even warmer stomach. Ville chuckled half-heartedly at that, a soft sigh escaping his lips at your touch.

"I'm not really a looks man." His joke came out dryly, but you laughed regardless, wishing you were tall enough to rest your chin on his shoulder but instead settling for your cheek resting against his shoulder blade.

"Let me rephrase. I'm only going to suffer through drunk party sex with one man tonight, and it certainly isn't Esa." You hummed, letting your hands fall still around his abdomen as you hugged him tightly and leaned up as high as you could go so that you could press a kiss right over the tattoo on the back of his neck. "Think horny instead of hateful, please."

"Ah, you always know the way to my heart, my love." He seemed to lighten a little bit at the word 'horny' leaving your mouth, because he was nothing if not someone who took an opportunity, and he quickly turned in your grasp with a soft smile on his face. "Am I being too much?"

"I think the 'piss puddle' part did it. You need to fucking relax and stop letting everything bend you out of shape." It had been too long of a day for you to word that nicely, but he usually didn't take the hint until he was forced to, so that actually worked well in your favor. He leaned down to kiss you when you slid a hand up to the back of his head to encourage him to do so, but his eyes were still troubled.

"I just fucking hate it that I can't even introduce you to anyone I know without feeling like I'm feeding you to a goddamn wolf's den." He complained, fisting a possessive hand in your hair as he looked down at you with a deep frown. You cooed, rubbing your thumb over his cheek where you were still cupping his jaw.

"Honey, I promise you're making it out worse than it really is. They're all men in their 20s. No man in his 20s comes on to women appropriately." You reassured, giving him a look because he was the pinnacle of that statement. A hint of a coy grin moved to his lips then, and he tucked his face further against your touch.

"It's a daily heartache to be so in love with the most beautiful woman to ever have been created, you know that? I get tired from having to keep back the hoards." He spoke in the verge of whining, and you full-on laughed at that, because he was sweet. Eternally grumpy, but so sweet.

“Are you going to be able to breathe normally out there? I’m really fine with leaving.” You reiterated, letting your hand drop because you knew you couldn’t stay cooped up in a bathroom forever. He blew out a scoff.

“Yes. I’m fine.”

However, he was not in fact fine. Because the second you and Ville re-emerged into the party, you were inexplicably being dragged to the kitchen. You knew he was lying when he said he needed another drink, and you settled with the fate that he was probably looking for Esa. All of your soothing had been for nothing, apparently.

“Please don’t. I don’t want to be a part of a fight.” You complained as Ville led you into the kitchen, stepping around couples standing way too close together to get to the drinks as you watched your boyfriend’s eyes scan the room. He just waved you off.

“I just want to talk to him.” He reassured, his words coming up empty because you could so clearly see the animosity building in his eyes once again. You frowned skeptically.

“I’m getting another beer. Leave me out of it. Seriously.”

You stepped apart from Ville then, letting him do whatever the fuck you clearly couldn’t stop him from doing as you genuinely just tried to find another beer. You were starting to wish this night would just end, because you knew it was right on the verge of turning into a shitshow, but this had mostly been for Ville. It wasn’t often you were in Amsterdam long enough to stop and say hi to anybody, and a good portion of the people at this party were truly his good friends.

But Ville had never been one to quit. And the ‘hot ass girlfriend’ comment that Mige had relayed to the both of you was clearly digging deep, because within a few seconds of searching around, you had lost him completely.

And, just your luck, someone else appeared to take his place.

And that someone else was Esa.

“Are you looking for the beer?” He seemed to sense your irritable confusion in such an overpacked house, but you could see that same hungry look in his eyes as he pointed you in the right direction. “I can make you something special, if you would be so inclined.”

“No thanks. I’m cutting off soon.” You lied, because you knew that you’d watch Esa lose limbs if Ville were to walk up on someone who was so deeply on his nerves making his girlfriend a ‘special’ drink. You weren’t going to encourage what you knew was going to be Ville’s overly-dramatic protective behavior, and you certainly weren’t going to add to it, either.

“Relax. You know, I’ve heard Valo’s girlfriends all do whatever the fuck they want because he never pays attention.” Well, it’s not like he was making it easy for you not to encourage what you knew was going to be a shit-storm when Ville finally found you. You also knew it wouldn’t take long for him to lose his shit.

“Well, Valo’s only got one girlfriend now, and I’d watch yourself with saying he never pays attention.” You said uninterestedly, starting to rip open a new case of European beer and silently wishing that Ville just didn’t have any friends at all. If he was just a little more bitchy, you would never have to go to these parties and play nice with rockstars who knew no boundaries.

“What? Is he supposed to scare me just because he’s your boyfriend or something?” The thought seemed to amuse Esa, but his laughing was short-lived when suddenly it felt as if a shadow had fallen over the both of you. You didn’t even have to look to your side to see who was there.

"What the fuck is that goddamn funny?” Oh yeah. Ville was pissed. And clearly in one of those moods that you knew always led to you breaking up a fistfight. You pushed a gentle hand against Ville’s chest where he was starting to swoop in on Esa like a vulture.

"Just go sit back down. I'll be back in a minute." You reassured, wishing that your fingers could get at the beer box faster to get you (and Ville) out of the goddamn kitchen.

"No. He can stay. If it’ll make you feel less insecure, Valo." And here started the dick measuring contest that you’d been doing your best to avoid. Ville bristled at that statement, and promptly got right in the way of you trying to get more beer. He was too busy glaring over your shoulder, however, and you had to shoulder him to the side because he ignored all your other attempts to get him to move.

"This is all shit fucking beer." Ville clearly pretended that he was talking to himself, but he was talking loud enough for the entire kitchen to hear. Esa scoffed and retorted something you couldn’t hear, but you were more focused on the fact that as you bent over to just grab a beer from an open box of a shittier brand, you felt Ville’s hand on your ass. You let out another huff.

"Go save our spot, Ville." You said tightly as you reached your foot back to nudge him away from you with your heel in his thigh. However, the conversation about you was continuing on without you, and Esa only spat his response to Ville’s insult towards his beer.

"Then maybe you should get out of the kitchen and stop following Y/n around like a fucking bitch." He crooned, shaking his head as he took a step closer to Ville. "You're right up my fucking ass."

"I'll get out of yours as soon as you get out of hers." Ville shot back, getting about three times as close as Esa had just as you stood back up with two beers in hand. "Did no one ever teach you how to shut your fat fucking mouth once in a while?"

"Enough! You both need to shut your fat fucking mouths." You cut that shit really quick where you could see it nearing violent territory, jabbing a finger first at Ville and then in between both of them. "Might as well whip your dicks out now and grab a measuring tape."

"I'm just saying, if you can bear to put your eyes anywhere other than her tits, then I'd be happy to drink your shit beer." Ville completely ignored you, as to be expected, and you quickly grabbed his wrist tightly where he had his arms crossed before starting to forcibly pull him away from the kitchen.

"You and I need to talk. Right fucking now." You snarled through your teeth, not giving either Esa nor Ville a chance to get another word in edgewise as you headed towards the hall. You were praying the first door you saw was unoccupied, because you really didn't feel like going in on Ville in the bathroom, and you let out a breath of relief when you opened the door to an empty bedroom.

"You're hurting my fucking arm." Ville complained as he came into the guest room after you, looking completely unbothered when you slammed the door behind him about as hard as you could.

"I don't give a shit!" You let yourself boil over for a second, throwing a hand in the air as you stared at him with my eyes wide. "Are you seriously that immature that you needed to talk about my tits to some dick I’ve never met? Do you have no consideration for how I feel about you saying things like that?"

"Y/n, I understand that you like to live life pretending that all the men around you aren't objectifying you, but I can't stand it. If he's looking at you like he wants to bend you over the counter, then I'm going to say something." Ville replied hotly, giving you a look that basically said what do you want me to do about it. "And don't even try to give me a face about it. I know you knew he was doing it."

"Yes, I did know he was doing it. But causing a scene and making me look like an object that you’re battling for doesn’t help." You groaned as you dropped down on the suspiciously unmade bed behind you, raking your fingers through your hair. "The more attention you give someone, the more they’re going to do it."

"So what am I supposed to do, then? Stand there and fucking smile while he takes mental pictures of your tits and ass to jerk it to later?" Ville asked, speaking crudely as he stepped a little further forward so that he was standing directly in front of you. You glared up at him.

"Ville." You didn't need the image of some grimy stoner jacking off to mental pictures of you in your head. "One of you shared a bed with me every night and the other one only knows my name. I don’t understand how you’re worried."

"I'm not worried. You're just mine." He spoke possessively, and a simple glance forward where his crotch was basically right in your face told you what territory this was steadily veering into. "I just don't think he knows that well enough."

"Once again, I'm not a possession. You don't own me between the two of you." You’d reminded him many times how irritating it was when he acted like he was defending his property, and yet he never seemed to listen. He reached down and grabbed your chin roughly between his fingers, that infamous stare trained heavily on you.

"Your pussy is certainly fucking mine. I know he knows that." He said lowly, giving you a look that dared you to say otherwise. You just stared back at him with your lips parted slightly, unable to move your head with how hard he was keeping you in place. He pouted his lips at you just slightly. "You know that, right?"

You didn't speak, just nodded slowly as he let you go enough to do so. You knew that all he was thinking about was the thought of you only being his, and you could tell by the fact that his cock was starting to strain against the fabric of his jeans that it was working. And well, at that.

He let you go then, jaw clenching just for a second before his hand came to the outline of his hard-on in his jeans, rubbing slightly as he eyed you with hungry eyes.

"I have to give Esa credit. You are fucking perfect. Every part of you." He said, reaching out and grabbing your chin to tilt upwards so that you were forced to draw your eyes away from where he was palming himself through his pants. "Lie down."

"Baby, this bed is so gross." You mumbled, motioning to the stained sheets and ripped up comforter that you knew without a doubt had seen some questionable things. He shrugged off his coat then, eyes never leaving yours as he came and laid the expensive pinkish-red leather down beneath you on the mattress.

"There. Now lay the fuck down." He repeated, and you couldn't have physically done so as fast as you wanted to when you watched him slowly move to kneel down to his knees at the end of the end in front of you. "You're not my possession, Y/n, but you are my woman. And no one else gets to fucking have you except for me, understand?"

"Always." You inhaled shakily as his fingers found the buckle of your belt, starting to nimbly undo it as, once again, his eyes never left yours. Once your belt was undone and he had pulled it from the loops of your jeans, he hooked his fingers in your waistband and ripped your jeans right down completely unceremoniously. And, as a result, revealing the incredibly skimpy g-string that you were wearing for when you got home. Or now, apparently.

Ville clearly enjoyed the sight, because he pulled your shirt up to your tits to fully expose your lower half, a low groan leaving his lips as his hands ghosted down your sides before they settled at your hips.

"You are so beautiful, you know that? There's a reason no one can ever take their fucking eyes off of you." He mumbled, leaning forward and beginning to kiss softly at your stomach. You whined softly as you felt him sucking at your skin, and as his lips moved, you could see that he was leaving deep hickeys. He then broke away to pull your underwear low on your hips. "Say you're beautiful."

"What?" It was hard to focus, both because he had gone right back to kissing and sucking low on your stomach while his fingers worked on coaxing your underwear down your legs.

"You heard me. Say it so that you know it as well as I do."

God, you were so fucking in love with him.

"I'm beautiful." You said quietly, fingers lacing themselves gently into his hair as he continued to suck deep marks all over your stomach whilst laving his tongue over each one.

"Good girl. I love you." He bit gently at your skin as he spoke, and you gasped slightly as your grip tightened in his hair at the feeling. At that point arousal had fully kicked in, and all irritation had escaped your mind in favor of desperately craving the feeling of his skin on yours.

"I love you. I need you." You whined, spreading your legs wide where he was laying between them. He had your underwear in his hand, and his mouth on your stomach was so close to where you really wanted him that your clit was aching.

"I'll give you whatever you want, love. All you have to do is ask." He said, and you watched as he pushed your underwear into his back pocket. That was definitely going to cause issues later, but you weren't in the mindset to worry about it now.

"Touch me. In any way. I don't care." You begged, reaching up to slide your foot and then leg over his shoulder as an incentive. He very clearly eyed your pussy as his tongue darted between his lips, and then his hands were quickly at your thighs to hold them open before he was leaning down and licking a long stripe from your entrance up to your clit. You whimpered, hand immediately shooting down to card your fingers through his long, messy hair. "Yeah, just like that."

Ville guided your other leg over his shoulder, groaning with the feeling of your fingers in his hair as he quickly began to suck at your clit, hands on your hips holding you down as you began to roll them with every stroke of his tongue. He wasn't teasing at all by this point, and you knew it was because he was trying to get you as loud as possible. Which, on one end, annoyed you because you didn’t want to embarrass yourself at this party, but on the other end deeply aroused you because you knew he was claiming you. And you would've been lying had you said that you didn't secretly like the idea of that.

"Baby, please. I need you so bad." You wanted him on you, and you wanted him in you. As much as you loved his head between your legs, you were craving the feeling of every inch of his skin on every inch of yours even more. He lifted his head then, your fingers still attached to hair.

"No. I'm not done yet." He said firmly before he was dipping his mouth back to your pussy, tongue swirling in lazy circles against your clit as those intense green eyes stayed trained directly on you. "God, I love your fucking pussy."

Whining in response, your hand that wasn't in his hair gripped at the already-ripped and fading comforter on the bed tightly, your back arching just slightly as he resumed sucking at your clit. Your soft moans were beginning to develop into high-pitched whimpers, and he only held your legs open wider as he licked and sucked sloppily at your clit.

Your head was spinning with pleasure, especially when his grip on your hips started to ache enough for you to know that you’d have bruises to accompany the deep red and purple hickeys that covered your abdomen. He groaned against your pussy as your grip tightened in his hair, the vibration of his voice making you shudder as you felt your orgasm approaching faster and faster.

"I'm not gonna—I can't—" Your voice was a hoarse stutter as you tried to get across that he was pinpointing the spot that made your legs shake way too aggressively for you to hold on for much longer, and all he did in response was look up at you with wicked delight in his eyes. That was exactly what he wanted.

When you came, your legs closed a little less than gently around his head, your hips arching harshly off the bed despite his tight grip on you as you moaned loudly. You would've had half a mind to consider how many people were standing not a foot away from the door that was the only separation, had he not been continuing his assault on your clit through your orgasm. Instead, all you did was whine his name as he pushed your legs right back open.

"No more. Too much." You breathed, hand pressing into his head as his tongue slowed but didn't stop. He then finally moved his head back, his still-entertained eyes eating you alive as his lips moved to kiss wetly at your inner thigh that was still pressed open with his hand.

"Are you starting to remember who you fucking belong to yet?" He spoke as if he was goading the answer out of you, and when you used enough of your depleted strength to lift your head and shoot him a dirty look, he just crawled right up onto the bed and dropped himself onto you with your legs on either side of his hips. When he was face to face with you, he immediately kissed you sloppily, and all you could taste was yourself on his lips as one of his hands moved to rub up your thigh.

"Will you calm down?" Even though you were out of breath and a little empty-headed from your orgasm, you could clearly see the wild possessiveness that had yet to fade from his eyes. His hand tightened on your thigh, and he stared right down at you as he ground his hips against you.

"Right after I fuck this pussy and remind you whose it is." He said pointedly, biting at your hand when you brought it up to push his hair out of both of your faces. You glanced towards the door that looked as if it had been kicked in and shittily repaired a couple of times.

"The door doesn't lock." You fretted, frowning at where you could see the broken lock even from the bed. You knew better to get naked in unlocked rooms that resided in parties for more than a few minutes in order to avoid someone drunkenly barging in with their hand down the person accompanying them's pants. Ville immediately scoffed.

"I don't give a fuck. I want you now." Of course he didn't care. He never did. This was the man that had stared his own friends down and had kept going when you'd been walked in on whilst going at it when you though no one was going to be on HIM's tour bus.

You weren’t going to deny that you wanted him just as much, so all you did was let him go so that he could get up and undo his jeans, waiting until he stood up off you before you readjusted on top of his coat. He quickly kicked his boots off before he had his belt undone and his zipper down, a satisfied smirk on his face as he watched you watch him push his jeans down and off. The boots coming off was a sign of how committed he was to this whole situation, and you couldn't help but swallow thickly as he came back towards your open legs.

"I don't want to get anything on your coat." You pointed out, pinching the red leather material and looking up to him with that hint of worry still in your eye. He only raised an eyebrow, climbing back into the bed over you.

"Guess it'll just have to be inside you then, huh?" He crooned, pushing your legs open a little wider as he kneeled between them. "You want my cock?"

"Yes. Need you so bad." You pleaded, wrapping your legs loosely around his waist where he hadn't yet moved from his position in your best attempt to lure him forward and onto you. Or into you. "Please, baby. I can't wait anymore."

He shushed you softly, reaching down to pull you further towards him by your hips before he was shifting onto one arm above you while the other hand pumped his cock a few times. Your eyes stayed glued to him as he did so, your lip bit harshly between your teeth as he positioned himself at your entrance and then pushed in slowly. You gasped at the feeling while he groaned deeply, his arms readjusting to hold himself up where they were resting against the bends of your knees and holding your legs spread open wide.

"Fuck, you take my cock so well. You're such a good girl." Ville breathed against your cheek when his head dropped slightly, the deep baritone of his voice so close to your ear making you full-body shiver. You slipped one of your hands underneath his shirt that had started to ride up to scratch your nails against his back as you let out a stuttered moan when his thrusts began to find a fluid rhythm.

The guest-bed frame was shitty as hell, and it was starting to creak loud enough to make your face heat up a little bit with every forceful roll of Ville's hips. Ville obviously didn't care, and only seemed to fuck you harder at the sound of the moans that fell from you lips with every hit of his cock inside of you.

Your nails were now cemented in his back while your other arm wrapped tightly around his neck as he dipped down to kiss you sloppily. It was all tongue and teeth as he groaned into your mouth, your fingers pulling at his hair to get more where he was basically eating you alive with every kiss he gave you.

"Does that feel good? Hm? You like when I fuck you the right fucking way?" Ville broke away to grunt that against your jaw where his lips had drifted, and all you could do was whimper a yes as you tried to ignore both the creaking and the fact that the metal bed frame was beginning to slam into the wall. He then lifted his head to stare right into your eyes, his face brightened with ecstasy. "Whose pussy is this?"

"Yours." You gasped immediately, arching your back up so that your chests were pressed flush up against each other in order to feel him as close as you could possibly get him. He groaned, thrusting particularly hard and hitting your g-spot for the first time that night.

"Tell me again. Whose is it?" He goaded, pressing wet kisses along your jawline and down to your throat as he leaned into his arms a little more so that your legs were stretched even further. Your eyes were slammed shut, and you had to take a deep breath to even force yourself to form words.

"Yours. Only yours." You repeated, your hand on his shoulder where your arm was wrapped around his neck fisting the material of his shirt tightly as you tried to find some semblance of stability where you had none. Ville crooned against your skin.

"Who?" Him and his fucking games. If he hadn't been fucking you so good into oblivion that you could barely see through the stars clouding your vision, you would've snapped at him for making you repeat yourself so many times. You knew what he wanted, and you also knew exactly how he wanted it.

"Ville." You cried his name as you arched your back a little further, opening your eyes just quick enough to see the satisfaction that flashed on his face at the sound. You knew you were being loud. In fact, you were both being ridiculously loud, but you were too far gone to care.

That was, until you heard a loud banging on the door.

"Hey! Is someone in my room?" Holy shit, that was Esa. You immediately opened your mouth to shout something along the lines of 'fuck off, one second', but you then noticed the smirk on Ville's face about a split-second before his hand was clamping down over your mouth.

"We're done when we're done. Don't fucking say anything." He ordered, not relenting his pace even the slightest bit in the face of the threat of the house owner standing just on the other side of the half-busted door. You pleaded with your eyes for him to let up his game for just a second, because you knew exactly what he was aiming for. And you did not like the idea of some random guy walking in on you getting dicked down within an inch of your life in his bed, no matter how much of an asshole he had been. But Ville gave no sign that he cared.

"Hey! I’m fucking serious! Who’s in there?" The irritation in Esa's voice gave you a pretty good idea of how close he was to opening that door, and you whimpered against the cover of Ville's warm hand. He only moaned as his free hand shifted your hips a little so that he could hit deeper inside you.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

About a second later, the door was open. And Ville still had his hand over your mouth, so all you could do was look fearfully towards the doorway where Esa was standing, and respectively getting a complete, full-body shot of Ville fucking deep inside of you. Ville's head had turned as soon as he heard the door opening, and his face was practically lit up with smug, cocky delight as he presumably made direct eye contact with the man he was in an obvious dick-measuring contest with.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Esa immediately stepped back in disgust, his eyes switching between both of you as he quickly reached back for the doorknob. Ville just let out what you knew was an exaggerated groan, his boasting knowing no bounds as Esa muttered something that sounded like fucking dick before he slammed the door shut.

As soon as he was gone, Ville's hand came off of your mouth, and you literally could not physically help the moan that spilled from your lips the second you were free to use your voice again. You had already been close to finishing, and as much as you hated to admit it, Ville's exhibitionistic act had pushed you much closer in record timing. And he knew it, too.

"Oh, was that good? Did you like that, my love?" He breathed out raggedly, his head dipping before he was kissing you slowly and moving his hand that had been over your mouth back against the bend of your knee as he brought you into your original position. "Cum whenever you want, for being such a good fucking girl."

You were going to fucking marry him someday. Maybe smack him upside the head a couple times before then for his behavior problems, but the fact remained. He was so fucking perfect.

"I'm gonna cum. Oh—so good." You whined, subconsciously wondering if you were hurting him with how deep your nails were in his back but simultaneously too fucked-out to stop yourself. He just shushed you and continued, and then you were cumming, legs shaking and spasming harshly as he fucked your g-spot directly through your orgasm with his lips still brushing against yours.

He came soon after, his moan raising a pitch past his normal voice and making another, post-climax shudder roll through your body as his head dropped to your shoulder and he spilled deep inside of you. He hadn't been lying about finishing in you, and you whimpered at the feeling.

His thrusts went shallow and slow for a while as you both came down from your highs before he finally slowed to a stop, his breathing sharp and heavy in your ear as his back heaved against your hand.

"Fucking hell." He muttered as he lifted his head back up, his eyes that had now gone soft finding yours before he leaned down to kiss you. His kisses were much more gentle now, and he moved a hand up to push your hair away from your forehead and out of your face. "You look so perfect right now."

"I love you." Your voice was so hoarse that your words came out as a whisper, but you knew he heard them, and his lips found your cheek and then your forehead before he was slowly pulling up and off you.

"I love you too. Look. You didn't even get anything on my coat." He praised with a hint of amusement in his eyes, his hand trailing softly across your stomach and hip as he gingerly pulled out of you. You ran your hands over your face in an attempt to bring yourself fully back down to earth, shuddering slightly at the aftershocks of him pulling out before you watched him get off the bed.

"I can't believe you let him come in here." You muttered, holding your feet out as he came back with your underwear and jeans in hand to put them back on. He just scoffed.

"Serves him right. I was just giving him a little reminder." He said stubbornly as he pulled your underwear up and over your hips, holding his hand out afterwards to help you sit up. You just shook your head, a slight laugh that you really couldn't control bubbling up in your chest.

"You are something fucking else, you know that? I can't believe you just stared at him." You smacked his chest lightly as you said it, standing up once he had your jeans up your legs and then combing your fingers through his ridiculously-unruly hair as he buttoned them up.

"Well, you're laughing, so clearly you're not that torn up about it." He pointed out, giving you a knowing look as he finished with your jeans and handed you your belt. "Let's get the fuck out of this shithole so that I can have your ass to myself at home."

"It's not like we can stay now, anyway." No way Esa was going to ever let Ville in his house again after tonight. You accepted his kiss when he leaned into you, resting a hand on his thigh with the hand that wasn’t holding your belt and then grinning when you felt him moan shamelessly into your mouth. "I can't believe people think you're shy."

"I am. You just bring the slut out of me." He defended himself adamantly, motioning pointedly to the now-tighter crotch of his jeans as his point of evidence. He really amazed you sometimes.

"You don't want to wait a minute?" Here he was ready to leave, and he was literally hard. And it was pretty obvious, too. He waved it off, that immaturely unbothered look on his face as he started right for the door.

"I don't care. Esa has to get the full picture of what keeps you coming back for more, eh?" Like you said, immaturely unbothered. You just huffed out an unimpressed sigh and carted him out the door as soon as he pulled it open, trying to ignore that you were walking beside your boyfriend who had a full erection.

He was going to drive you fucking insane someday.

[spricket-central]

this is a particularly hard memorial to write.

let me tell you about Bagel, the king of Chill.

on may 23rd, 2023, i successfully hatched my first ever captive bred spricket, a special girl named Poppyseed.

having one hatchling was already exciting, but soon afterwards, i spotted another fresh hatchling on my bedroom wall.

i tried to capture the lil guy, but he bounced away before i could, and i was unable to find him.

i theorize this little hatchling was Bagel, because exactly two months later, i found a young nymph in my bedroom who appeared to be exactly the same age as Poppy. this time, i managed to catch him!

if this was the same hatchling, im so, so grateful i got a 2nd chance at catching him.

to match his buddy, Poppyseed, i decided to name him Bagel.

he was pretty chill as a young nymph. id often find him just zoning out in the open. i was actually somewhat concerned by this behavior, as nymphs are typically EXTREMELY shy, so i worried that he was perhaps in too poor health to hide away, but my fears ended up being unnecessary. Bagel was just Like That!

he was even pretty chill during tank cleanings as a nymph, going into the Jr. Tube used for transport with no fuss! ...he became more defiant of the tube as he aged though, ahaha. damn.

theres no way of telling the sex of a spricket until they reach the age where females begin to sprout their ovipositor. when i noticed Poppyseed's coming in, i was hoping Bagel would turn out to be male so i could play matchmaker with them, and to my delight, his butt remained bare!

it became pretty evident as he aged that Bagel was just extremely laid-back (for a spricket at least). even when he lived on the kitchen counter, a fairly busy place, he would just remain unbothered, even when i was making a bit of a commotion while preparing my cat Wembley's food. this man was truly The Vibe Master.

about a week after Poppyseed, Bagel had his final molt and entered adulthood, which meant it was finally time for the two to meet!

when i moved the pair into my biggest tank (the Luxury Suite, i call it), i didnt know what to expect. i put Bagel in first, and he got a bit spooked upon entry (chill as he was, he was still a spricket, ahaha) and ended up hanging on the ceiling. oops. i went ahead and added Poppy, and she immediately seemed to be aware of Bagel's presence up there: she was anxiously pacing around beneath him, rapidly waggling her antennae straight up in the air to touch them against his. eventually, the curiosity was too much for her, and with a boing, she sprung up onto the ceiling to join him!

they sat up there together for a while, now touching each other with their antennae gently and calmly. it would end up being the beginning of a truly special little relationship.

sprickets are, of course, insects. theres no way of us to truly know what they are capable of thinking and feeling with those simple little brains, but i think its safe to say they dont form complex bonds with each other in the way we and our fellow social mammals do... but there was definitely some form of "affection" between Poppyseed and Bagel, to whatever extent sprickets can feel it. they had an observable preference for each others company. id find them just calmly relaxing side by side extremely often, whether they asleep or awake.

they spent most of their lives together, coexisting, mating... and chasing each other away from their daily veggies. hey, no relationship is perfect!

on april 25th, only a day after she turned 11 months old, Poppyseed died peacefully of old age. Bagel lingered beside her body. he wasnt cannibalizing it (as sprickets, being opportunistic scavengers, are prone to doing to their fallen comrades); just sitting beside. it. he lingered in the spot her body laid after i removed it to bury her.

i dont think sprickets feel grief, but i was a little worried for Bagel all the same. losing his partner of 9 months was still a change, and every living thing strives for homeostasis. still, in his new, smaller tank, he continued to thrive.

he had grown "outgoing" in his old age, often to be seen taking little strolls during the day, and, of course, continuing to emanate emaculate vibes. he was a delight to observe, and was such a handsome boy! he had this lovely pair of spots on his back, a striking feature that had always made him easy to tell apart from Poppyseed, even when without seeing his lack of an ovipositor.

because of how close in age he was to Poppyseed, i knew that Bagel didnt have much time left either after she passed, but he hung on for much longer than i could have hoped for: a whole month! he was active and spunky right up to his final day.

when noticed his slumped, lethargic posture on night, i knew it was time to say goodbye. he passed away peacefully the next day. while i didnt know his exact age, having been wild caught and not hatched in captivity, i estimate he lived to be about an entire year old.

it was a wonderful year spent with him. id like to imagine it was for him too. he had a safe home and never had to go hungry. he had a tankmate, and got to mate... many, many times, ahaha. and, while he had no way of knowing or comprehending it, he was so, so loved.

Bagel... i cant thank you enough for the joy youve given me. ive raised quite a few sprickets, but you truly did stand out from the rest. every spricket has its own personality: some have been brave, some have been spunky, but no one has had the laid-back nature you brought to the table. you were my suave little sleepy head, and im so, so grateful for every moment i had with you. im grateful to have caught you, whether it was my 2nd chance or my 1st. im grateful to have gotten to see you grow and thrive. im grateful that you and Poppyseed were able to grow old together.

i love you, you silly old man. I'll always love you. thank you for being my friend.

i will always remember my dearest Bagel, The Vibe Master. 💚

Bagel

July 23rd, 2023 (caught) - May 25th, 2024

[caveatscriptor]

Prompt:

Write a short story based on a common trope -> an actual love triangle (warnings: extremely stereotypical and meant as satirical)

Time writing: 45 minutes

This is a piece in response to one of the prompts in our book club, Little Red Writing Hoods.

--------------------------

“Wy!” he shouted.

The winded enthusiastic shout, the snickers squeaking across the pavement, the way his wet chestnut hair bounced with his steps were enough for Sue to know that Wren was excited. Excited for the wrong reasons.

“Haven’t I told you…” whatever Wynona had told him before didn’t matter, what mattered was her hand on his elbow in a familiar gesture, way too familiar. Grabbing him away, to pull him down to whisper into his ear, all too closely.

And yet, here Sue was, locker still open, book held in her arms nearly slipping, for she was completely enraptured. How had this happened?

When they were five, this is how he ran to greet her at her father’s dojo. Her, not Wynona. Not the cool new girl from outer state. Where was she from again? Who cares?

Had Wren liked Sue then? When they were little and knew nothing of relationships? Had he liked her when they started going to the same school and sat next to each other? Had he liked her when she awkwardly cheered for him during his karate tournaments?

She wasn’t sure when it had started for her. Liking him. Wanting him to like her back. Had it always been there? No. Surely it had been when she saw how he looked against the background of boisterous boys, he was the polar opposite. Taking his time, making his own rhythm. While everybody was panicked with tests, he was calm; while everybody was making a big deal out of finding a partner, he was unbothered; even if he was put on the spot by a professor, he just had this way of being both honest and completely unaffected without coming across as a jerk.

“If you stopped staring, maybe you wouldn’t make her feel so awkward to be around you.”

“Jessica.” Sue spun around to meet her best friend’s tired stare.

“Hello. Is this yet another day of letting the new girl take away your guy?” Jessica said, raising her eyebrow.

“I don’t have any idea of what you are talking about.” Sue replied, busying herself with tidying her locker and actually doing what she was supposed to, which meant taking out her book for the next class. “Besides, he’s not my g-guy.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Specially with how many times I’ve heard you talk about…” Sue silenced her with a look.

“He’s my childhood friend whom I have a crush on. No big deal.” She huffed.

“The big deal is you are letting the girl with the biggest cleavage take him for a spin every and each day!” At this, Sue slammed her locker shut.

“He’s not like that!” Sue said curtly, lowering her tone of voice.

“What do you mean? Haven’t you heard?”

Sue shook her head.

“They have become official. Just this morning”

If Sue’s jaw could literally hit the floor, it would’ve.

“THAT SL*T!” The scream was loud and unbidden, fortunately muffled by the bell.

*******************************************************

The rest of the day Sue had tried to speak to Wren, to no avail. Not a single opening, how could the new girl monopolize his time this way? Sue was sure she had never seen Wren spend so much with anyone else in a single day.

But this was it, her chance.

The rehearsal was ending. They were doing Romeo and Juliet, and who were the titular characters? If Sue could prevent them from staring into each other’s eyes by scowling, their retinas would be burned by now, a mere puddle on the floor.

She waited; she knew when to attack. Sue didn’t like to think that she would be attacking Wren, no, this was the new girl’s doing, making Sue resort to tricks just like her. Yes, this was all Wynona’s fault. Who dresses up to school in tops that should be lingerie and skirts short enough to leave nothing to the imagination? And why does everybody seem interested in her? Is it the school bag full of rock band references? Is it her shiny brown hair cut like a French girl? Who uses a bob with bangs with their age? Ugh. What a loser.

Sue closed the door behind her.

“Oh! Sue, it’s you.” Wren put a box, brimming with props and even a few costumes, down by the side of its’ brethren.

“Hey.” Sue’s voice came out small, she hoped it handed sounded normal, friendly.

She was with her back to the door, hand still on the door handle, as if to steady herself. She had practiced this a million times in her head. She could do this. She took a breath to reassure herself.

And then, sounds of metal scraping filled the room.

She spun around more quickly than she had anticipated, almost losing balance. Her hand pressed the door’s handle down one time, two, three.

“They shut us in.” Wren’s big hand rested atop of hers, to stop her panicked presses.

*******************************************************

At first, Wren had chalked it up to a prank and Sue had nodded feebly. This had “Jessica” written all over it.

It did not matter though, thirty minutes in, and she had not exchanged a word with him. This was not how this was supposed to go. No. This was still her chance.

She chuckled, a bit to herself, but also loud enough for Wren to hear.

“What’s so funny?” Wren’s voice had travelled from below her, he had already resigned to sitting on the floor.

Sue turned around, facing him, back against the wall.

“Nothing.” A lie. The biggest lie. “It’s just…” She let her eyes travel across the brick wall, as if she was counting them, instead she was gathering courage, anywhere but facing those puppy eyes of his. “I thought we told each other everything.” She quickly amended. “I mean not everything…”

“Susie—"

“No.” It was a sharp no, leaving no space for him to cut in. Sue took a shaky breath. She needed composure. Wasn’t that one of the things she liked about him?

“I need you to listen this time, Wren.” Her eyes were still fixed on the brick wall, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world right now. “I don’t know.” She caught herself. “I like you. I like you as more than a friend… for some time now.” She dared to look at his face. A mistake.

“I didn’t mean to. It’s just… you are that guy you know? I trust you on everything, or almost everything. We know each other almost since diapers. And it’s not because of that. But our parents know each other, and… I just… I’ve liked you for so long, and you’ve never even seen me here. And now…” Was she crying? Wynona wouldn’t have cried. Her eyes met his once again. Pity. Disgusting. “And now you are prancing around with that sl*t!”

“Hey now, Sue.”

“It’s not fair, Wren-wren.” She was full on sobbing.

He had stood up and now was trying to gauge whether he could possibly try to soothe her or not.

“What do you even like about her?” Those words had come out shouty and more pitiful than what she had intended for, but she didn’t care, she couldn’t stop crying.

“Well…” Yes, Wren was stupid enough to actually tell the girl that had just confessed to him, what exactly he liked about his new girlfriend. “She’s just… you know… her. Unapologetically so. She’s so cool, you know? She likes rock, and knows all of this bands, and—!” Yes, his eyes were shining now. “Do you know what her favorite movie is? It’s “Death in Venice” that polish film I keep talking about. And she likes analogue photography she even has a polaroid camera, and we’ve been going out to—"

“So, you like her because you have the same hobbies?” Sue’s sobbing had quieted down, her voice came hoarse.

“What? No.”

“Just because some girl likes that weird-ass-junk movie that doesn’t—"

A loud rattling noise filled the dusty room.

“Ah! There we go!”

Wynona was at the door, right by them.

“Oh, god.” Sue rasped.

Wren awkwardly touched his neck, stepping away from Sue.

“Oh, hey Wy. What are you doing here?”

Wynona eyed him up and down, her eyes narrowed once they found Sue, they were basically two black dots of heavy black eyeliner all the blue had disappeared under.

“What did you do?” she accused Wren. His hands shot up in defense.

“Me?” He pointed at himself, disbelieving.

“Yes, she IS crying. WHAT. DID. YOU. DO?” She yelled. But then, suddenly, realization dawned on her. “You told her, didn’t you?”

“Wynona, wai—"

Wynona stomped her way to Sue and grabbed her by the arms. Sue’s eyes were wide and frightened.

“I don’t care what he said or how he said it, but you should hear it from me.” Her voice was panicked, Sue didn’t understand. “The thing is… I really like you.”

“WHAT?” Wren and Sue said in chorus.

Wynona let go of her, as if Sue had burned her.

“You were dating him.”

“You told me you wanted to fake date so the guys would leave you alone.”

Wynona looked at Wren, then at Sue, and finally her eyes landed on the ground.

“I was fake dating you to keep the guys at bay and to get closer to Sue. I knew you’d figure it out someday…”

If a pin dropped in that moment, they would’ve heard it, as silent as that room was.

But the silence was broken by quick footsteps.

“Oh! You got the door open for them.” Jessica said through a tight-lipped smile as everybody eyed her. “What? It was just a prank.” 

[sugarcherriess]

You won't be able to push off master, little bunny hehe.

Also since you said we can request anything can I request sadistic incel hyunjae meets anime girl hehe - 🥛

I’m going to ignore that this. Sentence. Has been festering in my askbox for three months.

And now that I got to it I kind of forgot whether the mc was supposed to be an anime enthusiast or an actual come-to-life anime person so I just went with the latter because that’s more interesting. But this is definitely not even close to what I had told you guys about my extreme Hyunjae anime fucker idea 🗿🗿

(Also it’s they/them bc milk later edited the request not me tampering with the request 😭)

Sadistic Incel!Hyunjae x Anime!They/Them:

cw - smut, mc has a pussy and tits, dubcon? I mean mc is from an anime drawn in a plot where they get fucked constantly so they don’t rlly know the difference of being used or otherwise, bimbo-ish behaviour, mentions of pet play, throat fucking, perverted behaviour from strangers, owner/pet relationship, dystopian au

Let’s talk about a dystopian society where technology has evolved so far that you can buy or rent anime people online

Of course, the program started for people to be able to hang out with there favourite characters or take help from them

But there are some sick headed people out there as well

People like Hyunjae who pick out the sluttiest anime characters to buy

So they can satisfy their sick brains by using them for sexual purposes

Because nobody seems to be willing to date him irl, Hyunjae’s constantly horny brain decides to invest in this program

He chooses the character with the most pornographic plot and dressing

And the bimbo-est personality

Just like the mc of this story

He’s not even ashamed when he makes y/n walk with him all the way back to his home from the delivery portal downtown

People ogle y/n’s huge breasts jiggling as they walk by

Some even trying to sneak in and fondle their ass as Hyunjae has to stop at different places

But then they finally come home! Inside the safety of Hyunjae’s room!

Not that y/n is safe there anyway

Hyunjae is a bigger monster than those strangers

As y/n will soon find out.

Hyunjae doesn’t wait for anything

He’s impatient and restless

Although he does have the decency to tell y/n a few important things:

“My name is Jaehyun but you can call me Hyunjae. I am your owner from now on and you will do as I ask. Got it?”

“Mhm!”

The answer is more cheerful than the occasion requires

Since y/n doesn’t yet realise they are a slaughter lamb that walked all the way to the lion’s cave

“Don’t mumble in front of me, I hate it,”

“Yes, Hyunjae!”

And just like that, y/n gets their first task

“I have a very important gaming session in a few minutes and I need you to sit between my legs and warm my cock with your mouth while I play,”

“Okay, Hyunjae,”

“You’re not supposed to make any sound or any protests. Don’t move until I tell you to move,”

“Yes, Hyunjae,”

He nods towards his desk, ushering y/n under there

Surprisingly, it’s not that cramped of a space but it still isn’t the most comfortable

Y/n does their best to not hurt themselves but how careful can they be on their knees with their mouth wide open for, essentially, a stranger?

Hyunjae, not giving a single fuck about them, slides his pants down and pulls y/n in by the hair to his cock

He uses the other hand to tap his tip on y/n’s mouth, making poor, dumb y/n smile

He fists their hair to slide them down their cock experimentally for a few moments, checking the temperature and whether y/n’s mouth can get him wet enough for an easy slide

Once he’s satisfied that their mouth has soaked him enough, he gives y/n no warning before pulling them all the way down

Hyunjae’s tip shoves uncomfortably at the back of y/n’s throat

For extra convenience, his motion has no specific pattern!

So yk, y/n is really thrown for a loop!!

Which is perfect because if not now then when?

(Sarcasm)

He’s unbothered by how harsh he’s holding y/n’s hair or jostling them around

All he knows is that he wants to cum and use y/n so they’re his money’s worth

Sometime amidst this, his game begins

And he ignores y/n for the most of it unless it’s to push them from the back of their head until their nose is pressed to his pelvis

He harshly shushes y/n when they gag a little too loud for his liking

Not that he cares if his friends hear

Which ofc they do

He definitely uses the opportunity to boast about how much pussy he’s about to get from now on

Since his dumb pet is gonna be at his disposal constantly

Only good for being fucked and used as a cumdump

Y/n whines a little bit at the indirect degradation solely because they would like attention on themselves now!

The bad words don’t bother them

Because their owner thinks they’re useful <3

Y/n’s eyes might be tearing up and they might be struggling to breathe but that does not bother Hyunjae in the slightest!

With every short break in the game, his hand is back on y/n’s hair and pulling them down while simultaneously snapping his hips up

His desperately pussy-starving ass doesn’t even realise that he could be using, well, y/n’s pussy for the same reasons he is using their mouth

And he’s cum like. Four times in the small timeframe he’s had them on his cock

Somewhere amidst this mess he had hastily ordered y/n to pull down their top

He just wanted the tits to pop out but

The top was so snug that their tits squished together as well.

And lo and behold

His team finally won the game after two hours of stressful gameplay

And what did Hyunjae do?

He celebrated by pulling y/n up on his lap to use their pussy

Like he had initially planned

A plan he so gracefully forgot.

He nipped and bit at y/n’s tits as they bounced on top of him

Face smushed in their chest, Hyunjae grabbed their ass to force them down harshly on their cock

In true pussy-deprived-loser fashion, his thrusts were uncoordinated due to lack of proper practice

“Fuck! Tell me how good I’m fucking you, you slut”

God knows how his virgin ass was even able to say the entire sentence without his voice breaking is astonishing

But y/n, being the perfect little pet used to being talked down to, obliges

In true Hentai fashion, y/n whines and cries, narrating everything they’re feeling inside them

All the ways Hyunjae’s cock has them fucked up

Their mouth is drooling exactly like their pussy

Face dripping with all sorts of fluids

Hyunjae can’t resist but to fuck them harder

In pursuit of a ahegao face from y/n

Which he gets

Drooly tongue out, teary eyes crossed, blushed cheeks heating up more by the second– the nines

He cums for the last time for the night, hopefully, Hyunjae shushes his moans by fixing his teeth around y/n’s neck

And biting hard

Trying to engrave his mark on them Like a rabid dog

Y/n screams loudly– Well. As loud as their hoarse and overused throat could let them

Eyes twitching, y/n squirts all over Hyunjae

Because they were encoded to be an anime character and what kind of anime character would they be if they didn’t squirt easily hello?

Not that Hyunjae minds it

But he still reprimands them for it

And makes them lick it off him because “a good pet cleans up their mess otherwise they are useless. Do you wanna be useless? Do you want me to throw you on the streets for anyone to use?”

“No, Hyunjae!”

(Said with wet puppy eyes and a pout deeper than the pacific ocean)

[justageneralsimpindeed]

Since Choke me as if you hate me will probably take a while until there is a smut with illumi here's a little scenario that may appear in the story.

You attend to him with innocent eyes as you slowly accept him inch by inch. It's intoxicating. He snaps his hips towards you, smothering you as you gag on his length, tears streaming down your skin. Your lips are soft and welcoming the unconditional distinction to his slender pale fingers, knitting their way into your hair and harshly commanding it to his pelvis.

He is vicious as you savour the pre cum that confronts your taste buds, a salty, moderately bitter essence has you trembling away in ecstasy from the exotic flavour. Illumi knows and this does not benefit you at all because five seconds later his cock is back to beating the back of your throat in a rapid convulsion. You struggled to take him before even as he was always somewhat gentle or at least he prepared you enough so it wouldn't be a problem.

Not this time.

"That's it, you doing so well so far, "Illumi sighed as your wet cavern clung to his cock. He wasn't extremely vocal but his responses were far from his ordinary self.

You put up with him, with his guidance to assist you. The clear instruction of 'no touching' hung by a delicate fibre over an abysmal trench in the back of your mind. But it wouldn't matter you would forget about this night either only seeing it as a blur or thinking you fell asleep at sunset the next morning.

But you couldn't help yourself, your past was unfortunate but that didn't say you couldn't have sex with people anymore. As his hands snatched back on your hair and his hips surged to accomplish his euphoria, you touched him.

You went against his orders.

He stepped back away from you, your hands drifting from his jeans as you had no idea what was going on. You moaned as the pleasure of having your throat ravaged left.

Illumi glared seeming unbothered by the prosecution if not for his tone.

"What a disobedient girl, I told you not to touch didn't I?"He lectured as he eyed five crescent indentations on his thighs after removing his jeans.

"Guess I'll have to punish you then."

It was incorrect to get excited when illumi said that. He was unpredictable sometimes he would idolize your very being and would char the earth if anything happened to you and yet occasionally he is almost pleading the world to allow him to sacrifice you for it.

Your slick coated your thighs in a glistening sheet, and you knew that he wasn't dubious of the fact of your unmistakable arousal for discipline.

His face was like stone unchanged as he stalked your every movement.

"Get up."

"This isn't a punishment you'll relish."

Your legs throbbed seconds before collapsing from your aching knees, and yet you tried again, using the convenient trunk as leverage. You gasped as Illumi took hold of your shoulder hurling you onto the bed, before quickly crawling onto it, eyes drilling into your soul with a predatory regard.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

[keigosbirdie]

FEMALE READER VERSION

Of all Hawks’ secrets, you are the most well-kept.

Version: Female Reader version | Male Reader Version Links: Gifset (art only) | Mood Music

NIGHTHAWK Rating: Explicit   |   Word Count: 13k  | Art: 14 animations, 2 stills (Technically no spoilers, but if you aren’t caught up on the events of the manga you’ll be missing important context. The fic takes place after Hawks’ meeting with the commission.) Synopsis: Casual was the word you used when you first agreed to sleep together. As weeks turned into months turned into a year, those quick and dirty nights blossomed into private moments that earned him little pieces of you. Warnings: Dom!Hawks, Nurse!Reader, animalistic behavior, rough sex, quirk/feather play, light bondage, biting, praise kink, hurt/comfort, secret relationship, talk of past lovers, mentions of death, panic attacks, PTSD, mention of a past, non-canon event. Spicy, then bitter, then sweet.

There was nothing exceptional about your life from an outsider’s perspective. You lived in an apartment on the outskirts of Jaku City, unmarried and childless. During the day you attended medical school where you studied for your doctorate. During the evening you worked as a nurse in the intensive care unit. Then, when you were home, you sat alone for dinner at a kitchen table meant for two.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

For the past year, however, an occasional tap at your sixteenth-story window would break up the lonely monotony. The tap was quite a scandalous secret, not that anyone would believe you if you let it slip. Even you still had a hard time accepting the bizarre reality of the situation; but it was real. Just as real his voice, which you could hear echoing faintly through your apartment.

You glanced up from your lukewarm dinner and dropped your fork. For a long moment, you sat in silence, listening intently until you heard it again. It was him; it was his voice. Your heart pounded against your ribs as you shoved out of your chair and jogged to the window. The part between your curtains opened, but when you peeked through you saw only the glow of city lights below a blanket of darkness.

A frown found your face, and a sigh spilled past your lips. You heard his voice; you would never mistake it for another. It echoed casually against your dim walls again, and you turned your head towards the sweet sound. The television was on in the living room. Your heart dropped at the realization. The little square thing sat on your end table and taunted you with his image. 

There he was. Hawks, the winged hero, being interviewed by a woman in a pantsuit. It wasn’t often he did interviews, so you left your dinner to go cold in favor of watching the program.

He was dressed in his hero costume, his visor lifted to rest atop his blond, wind-whipped hair, and his scarlet wings folded politely against his back. A wide grin graced his face as he exchanged charming banter with the woman. She seemed enamored with his expression, but she didn't know him like you knew him. He was smiling, yes, but the edges of his eyes were crinkled with tension. When he chuckled, his wings folded a little harder against his back. His beats of laughter were calculated. Uncomfortable, that's what he was.

He’d been that way a lot lately.

"So, I'm sorry, I have to ask- Every bachelorette in the country is wondering, is there any special lady in your life?" the interviewer asked. It was airy and friendly in intent, but your lip twitched with faint annoyance anyway. Your face fell slack and you leaned back into your chair. 

"Well, I don't know about every bachelorette," he quipped. His face was a little grainy on your old TV screen, but you could see the slight pink in his cheeks. He was cute. So, very cute. It made you miss him that much more. "But my personal life, well, how alluring would I be if I didn't keep a few things a mystery?"

And a mystery it was, to everyone but you.

Thankfully, the woman interviewing him had enough tact to know when to move on. Their conversation mercifully veered away from his sex life—your sex life—and towards his agency. The television was a wondrous thing. His voice rang through your home despite his absence. It brought sadness, but also a bittersweet comfort. Viewing him live stung your soul. You watched until his interview ended with a commercial break, and then decided not to wait up for him again. That would only lead to another sleepless night. 

Still, the window remained unlocked for him as you called it a night. The yellow glow of your desk lamp died with a click, and you climbed into your bed. Sleep was always difficult. Many nights you laid awake as you thought about your ICU patients. The things you saw in the ward were enough to scar anyone. But if it wasn’t work that plagued your mind, it was him.

Casual was the word you’d used when you’d first agreed to sleep together. It was easy to swallow when he only snuck into your apartment at night for sex. For the first few months, that was it. He’d steal into your home through the cover of darkness and you’d share a violently passionate night. Then, he would vanish out your window until he craved you again. Which, thankfully, was often.

As weeks turned into months turned into a year, however, those quick and dirty nights blossomed into private moments that earned him little pieces of you. You realized you were in too deep when it became difficult to be unbothered by the casual daydreaming of others. His face was clipped to girls’ backpacks long before you knew him, but others, covered so openly in his merchandise, began to make you a touch bitter. His sex life had been speculated about in tabloids since his debut, but to keep your mouth shut while your friends contemplated the size of his penis became hurtful and emotionally taxing.

The only one you could confide those pains in was the man who unintentionally caused them, but Hawks was too sweet. If he knew just how much it tore you up, he’d surely break things off to spare you the misery.

You cursed yourself for getting lost in thoughts of him. Bemoaning the casual chatter of others as he gracefully balanced the weight of the world on his shoulders made you feel weak. You allowed your eyes to close, your breathing slowed, and your body relaxed into your mattress. By the mercy of whatever god watched over you, sleep slowly overtook all your other thoughts.

At least until a shuffle and a squeak made you toss in your sheets. A faint light spilled into your room from the window, and a coolness settled into your bed. You shivered. It was the fresh winter air from outside. The cold wasn't the only intruder. It was him. 

The light was dim, but a dark silhouette of flared wings blocked out the moonbeams. Your heart lurched in your chest at the dominant display. It was a habit of the bird in him to fluff up when his blood was hot. His predatory energy kept you submissively silent rather than greet him.

Floorboards creaked beneath his shoes. The pulls of their zippers clicked with the movement. His breath was heavy as he moved to your bed. You caught a vision of your lover’s face. Little flecks of snow followed in. They danced around the brilliance of his wings and settled into his hair. In the blue light of winter’s night, his gold eyes looked dazzling. They also harbored a glint of violence akin to the blown-out eyes of a predator in pursuit of prey.

It was a familiar look from the strange animal. He’d seemed so open and friendly when he’d first snuck into your hospital room to talk, but he shrugged away at hugs and only laughed awkwardly when you told him he was your best friend. He didn't understand that kind of closeness.

You’d learned how deep his discomfort ran through him when the relationship became sexual. His inept understanding of touch translated to violence in the bedroom. Sex was most comfortable for him when he thought of it as a battle. He'd hold you down and force you open. You'd dig teeth into his arms and rip out feathers with your fists. To submit to his pounding was capture, but to overstimulate him until he was too weak to hold you down was victory. Extreme? Perhaps to those who didn’t understand your trust in one another.

He'd at least offer a sappy hello before he pulled his dick out, though. Not tonight. He eyed you as if expecting you to run, as if he'd give chase if you decided to. Fuck, it caused the warmest tingle between your thighs. You’d missed him too badly to try to put up a fight.

He left his jacket abandoned on the floor, which offered a much better view of his slim body wrapped in his black bodysuit. His canines dug into the leather of his glove before he yanked his hand free with his teeth. You laid silent and already breathless. It'd been far too long since you last felt him. Your body was hot with need at the sight of his rigid wings alone. His eyes swept over you as he toyed with the front of his tan jeans. He didn't come very often in uniform. To watch him fondle himself through his costume was- god, was there a stronger word than ecstasy?

“I want you,” he said from your bedside.

"You can have me..." You breathed out. It was intended to sound sultry, but your tone was more akin to a pleading whisper. Your body ached for him before your heart did, after all. Old habits were hard to break.

"You've been waiting for me, like a good girl, haven’t you?" he cooed. Cooed, quite literally. A low and rumbling song reverberated from somewhere deep in his throat. Not a bit of you was avian, but your body reacted instinctively when you heard your mate's call.

"I should reward you."

His visor glinted in the dim light as he pulled it off his face and let it land on the floor. His earmuffs, too.

You bit down your grin as the weight of your mattress shifted under his knee. His ungloved hand neglected the bulge in his jeans to tend to you instead. Warm fingertips slipped beneath your covers and found the skin of your thigh. A small sigh spilled from his lips, and your body trembled.

"You missed my hands on you, didn't you?"

You only managed a nod as his fingers slid up and beneath your pajama top.

Your body sank deeper into your covers when he moved over you. One knee landed on either side of your hips. His bare hand played with your breast while the still gloved one ran through your hair. The leather of the glove was frigid from the cold, but his body radiated warmth. The sweetness of his cologne mingled with the harsh musk of sweat. The smell of him fogged your mind.

The pads of his fingers pinched and tugged at the pink bud he discovered on your chest, which earned him a harsh gasp.

"That's it. I love it when you sing like that," he chimed. His hot breath ghosted over the shell of your ear. Wefts of his hair brushed against your face as his teeth nibbled at your throat. You were trapped beneath the cage his body made. 

"These cute little tits of yours- god."

He wasn't usually so chatty when he was about to mount you, but every grumble that reverberated in his throat added to the tingle between your thighs. He could devour you whole and you would thank him for the honor.

Your hands slid up the sides of his tight bodysuit. The inky black fabric was harsh beneath your fingertips. You traced the patterns of its gold accents around to his back and up towards his wings. He stiffened when he felt you slide nearer to them. Between the plush feathers at the base of a wing, you wiggled a finger until you found the skin beneath. Then you gave the joint a brutal squeeze.

Instinctively, that glorious wing of his outstretched and shivered. The stems of his plumes flexed against your hand as they puffed twice their usual size. The longest of them brushed against the ceiling of your room, dwarfing your bodies beneath it.

You were always in awe of the sheer size and beauty of them.

"F-fuck. Not fair," he growled, and then his teeth sunk hard into your neck in vengeance. The harsh bite only made you desperate for more, so you fisted his feathers in your hand and gave a sharp yank. He gasped a hot breath into the nape of your neck. Fuck. You couldn't take the teasing anymore. 

Your hands relieved him of their cruelty to pull off your shirt. He faltered when your bare breasts were exposed. His golden irises became thin rings as the darkness of his pupils devoured them. The tip of his glistening tongue wetted his lips.

It was your turn to stare with sharp desire as you heard the click of his belt, then the pull of a zipper. You pushed yourself up to get a good view of him working his dick out of his bodysuit. The throbbing muscle hit him in the stomach. The sensation made him hiss between his teeth, and you whimpered in reply. 

"Hhm, you must be really hungry, the way you're staring at it," he mused before he spat into his palm and ran the wetness along the shaft. He quivered at the sensation. You quivered, too.

"Please." Your cheeks were flushed, and your chest quaked with desire. "I want to feel it, please." 

"Oh, don't worry. You’re gonna have all of this. Gotta get that pretty little pussy ready for my cock, though, don't we?" he hummed.

He reached into his plumage and pulled out a long, red feather. The thing wriggled between his pinched fingers as he presented it to you. The way it moved was unnatural, but you timidly took it in your grasp. The look on your face must have been telling of your confusion because he chuckled at your expression. He gave no direction. Instead, he watched with a mischievous curiosity as you turned it in your palm. The barbs vibrated independently of one another against your skin.

Your breath heaved when you realized why he had given it to you. His hands slid down your stomach as a pair of red feathers brushed against your sides. They dipped into the hem of your shorts, then pulled the fabric, sliding them down your legs until you were deprived of them. The cold from the open window seeped into your most sensitive places as his hands caressed your hips.

His fingertips stopped over a series of divots and deformities in your flesh. They were painful mementos of the night you met, and reminders of the sacrifice you had made for him a couple of years prior. He was a stranger when you chose to forgo your own survival to shield him from death. His bottom lip disappeared between his teeth as he relived the agony with you, but placed kisses all over the scars. It felt like a plea for forgiveness, so you ran a loving hand through his hair.

A soft sound spilled from him, and then his head dipped down to drink in the sight of your bare body. You were naked beneath your shorts, so he hummed through gritted teeth when he teased your legs apart. He'd seen it all many, many times before, but the sight of your glistening pink sex brought about his cooing again. The sound was a deep and beautiful melody unlike anything you'd ever heard, but also purely sexual. It was his body's call to yours. It beckoned you like a siren.

“No panties, huh?” he murmured. His breath hitched and vibrated with his lustful song. “You’re already so wet, my god… how about you put that feather of mine to use?”

He sat back on his haunches. Those narrow eyes bore holes into your exposed body as he spat another thick glob of saliva onto his palm. His hand found his cock. His eyelids fluttered at the contact and he groaned softly as he pumped around it. His eyes drank your every movement. 

You spread your legs for his gaze and then brought the pulsing feather between your thighs. He could feel through them, in a sense. The thought alone caused you to exhale a soft moan, but it was anything but soft when the vibration teased your sex. He groaned, too, at the contact. 

Your body flexed and wiggled when you pressed it hard against your clit. The sensation made your eyes roll back. Your slickness dampened its vanes despite its semi-hard state, and your hips ground into the pleasure. He observed. His hand pumped faster with each desperate whimper his feather worked out of you. 

It wasn't long before he couldn't take simply watching anymore. 

The roughness of his stubble dragged along your breast as he closed his teeth around one of your pink buds. He suckled, and your fingers tangled in his hair as his feather jolted from your grasp. It worked your clit without your help, and hot air blew from his nose as he jerked himself off. You used the distraction to sneak a hand between your bodies. You wanted the hot skin of his cock against you. You wanted to touch and play; to taste and feel. A thick whimper spilled out of him when you ensnared his throbbing dick in your palm and squeezed.

His feather stopped pleasing you.

"I didn’t give you permission to touch, did I?" His wings flexed. The feathered limbs grew massive as their quills stood on end in a frightening display. They were beautiful and plush, but deadly weapons all the same. “Testing me, huh? You're that desperate for my cock?”

Yes, fuck yes you were. You opened your mouth to reply, but your voice cut out when he grabbed you by the wrist. He jerked your hand away from his sex, and you whined. Usually, you were a bit of a hardass. It wasn’t easy to make you crumble, so he looked so devilishly proud of himself when you’d submit beneath the weight of him.

His teeth bared in a deliciously appealing smirk. "I’m gonna have to do something with these hands of yours if you’re gonna grab at shit without permission, yeah?"

You nodded a little too eagerly. His voice was heavy and deep with a depraved need to dominate you. To sully your skin with his desire. You weren’t going to stop him.

A cluster of feathers gathered in the air around you. You had nothing to fear, but watching them circle like small predators overhead made your heart pound against your ribs like a drum. They swarmed you and ensnared your wrists. The strength of his quirk easily had you overpowered. Your hands slammed into the headboard, pinned down by his feathers which trembled with excitement. You were now at his mercy.

“You’ll get your hands back when you’ve earned them,” he informed you through gritted teeth, but you were so mesmerized by the features of his face you hardly heard his words. Beautiful, that's what he was. You'd never told him how his appearance left you breathless. It could scare him away if you said such sweet things too often, but you’d held your heart back for so long it only felt fair to let it beat this once. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” you whispered.

He trembled. His eyes widened in startled confusion, and then his cheeks dusted the faintest shade of red. God, that only made your heart thump harder. His did, too; you could feel it rattle through his chest and against your stomach.

"What was that?"

You bit your lip, embarrassed, but echoed the statement a bit more sheepishly. "I said… you're gorgeous."

Your mattress groaned as he folded back onto his knees. The flaming red limbs on his back lowered until they rested against your sheets. Something about that sweet little compliment tore into him like nothing you had ever said before. That desire that flickered behind his eyes blazed out of control. His kisses landed on your knees before he placed a gentle caress of his lips on the innermost part of your thigh. So close to your pussy that the heat of his breath made you slick.

His other glove was abandoned somewhere on the floor, which rendered both his hands bare. A low groan spilled from him as he pressed his thumbs into either side of your heat. His jaw went slack and his breath erratic as he spread you open.

"So are you," he said, but it was muttered so softly you almost didn't hear.

His head dipped down. The tendrils that framed his forehead fell over your midriff as his tongue caressed your twitching flesh. The hot, wet muscle lapped hungrily between your folds. It flicked at your clit, and your legs trembled on either side of his head. His mouth working you open like that was enough to fog your mind entirely.

“You like that?” he cooed between the slurps of his mouth against you. "Oh, I bet you fucking do."

You replied with only a strangled whimper as you tugged uselessly at the feathers that bound you. You were desperate to comb your fingers through his downy hair, to fist it in your hands and press his face hard into you. A low chuckle flowed from his open mouth and tickled your flinching flesh. Another cry tore from your throat.

“My poor baby, so desperate,” he sighed after placing a kiss against your clit.

His poor baby. He hummed that phrase with such possessive intensity. He was right. Even if it was unspoken, you and your body belonged to him and him alone.

The warmth of his palms traveled back up your stomach and squeezed your breasts roughly. “Forcing you to wait so long for me, did I neglect my sweet little Chickpea? Hmm, I better make up for it, huh?"

God, the way his husky voice reverberated against your flesh was the most delicious form of torture. You bit your lip and nodded, and he rewarded you with a finger. It slid carefully into you, and his hand caressed your insides. You cried a loud, indecipherable string of mangled words. All grasp on language left you as he curled his fingers up and flicked his wrist.

“Aw, what are you trying to say, Sweetheart?” he huffed. All the little nicknames only pushed you further into your need for him. “You wanna feel my fat cock push into that pretty little pussy?”

A sharp inhale burned your throat.

“P-please!” you choked. Your voice was cracked and pitiful when it finally tore from you, and a wonderfully wonton sound fell from him.

“Please what, huh? Please what?” he gasped.

“Fuck me! I want it- I want your cock- PLEASE.”

“Ohhhhh, that sounds so pretty comin’ outta your mouth,” came his long, low growl. As a reward for your begging, he dragged the wetness of his tongue along the length of your little pink slit.

The rough material of his jeans slid down your inner thighs as he mounted you. The shaft of his hot, bare cock pressed flush against your sex. Clusters of his feathers bunched behind the bends in your knees and forced them back, which splayed you helplessly open. You watched as he bit into his lip and rubbed himself against your wetness. You couldn't look away as the most intimate part of his body sheathed itself in yours. 

The most delicious pressure overwhelmed your aching senses. Fuck. FUCK.  He moved slowly. It may have been meant as mercy, but to your sex-starved body, it felt torturous. The ridges of his dick caught at your swollen walls before the tip of it pressed agonizingly slow into the bottom of you. 

“Hawks! Oh my god, I can’t fucking take this!” your throat jerked and trembled just like your aching thighs. Your hips pumped in desperation for friction where your bodies connected. “Give it to me, give it- I swear to god- FUCK!”

Once you gave him control of your body, he lost control of his own. The mattress groaned when he slammed into you. His teeth dug into your throat, laying his claim on you as he panted for breath. His loose belt buckle beat at your outer thighs, and your bed frame groaned in protest with each merciless thrust. His hands dug into your flesh and locked you into his jarring pumps. He pinned you down as if he expected you to play the fighting game, but you didn't resist his cock this time. You didn't want a battle. You wanted your lover. Your moaning whimpers broke and cracked as his jerking hips rocked the wind from you.

He pounded into you too fast for your mind to keep up. Your scarred body buckled and stung under his animalistic need, but the shockwaves of pleasure that rolled through your core kept you begging him for more. More. More. 

His mind was so fogged that he lost his focus on his feathers. The clusters binding you down came loose without his influence, and you easily pulled out of them to throw your arms around his neck. His wings spread out and bristled until they were pressed against the walls, puffed and massive. His forehead was against yours. His hot breath puffed in your face, and his beautiful body was pleasured with yours. 

"Fuck, fuck! Please- Let me come inside you," he pleaded. His eyes were hazy and fogged, his mouth was slack and face a deep red. His body’s cooing song was so loud you could feel it in your own chest. The familiar smell of his cologne intermingled with the musk of sex and blurred your mind. You wanted every piece of him he'd give you.

"Y-yes, please, please," you begged between the hard smacks of his skin against yours. 

Your eyes shot open as his pace quickened. His wings… they were falling apart. Those beautiful eyes of his lulled further into the back of his head with each bone shivering slap of flesh. His teeth bared and his lips twitched as he pressed your bodies roughly together. Shivers rolled through his muscles, and those fierce wings of his were reduced to twitching little nubs on his back as he came.

You ran your hands between his shoulder blades as you marveled at his feathers. They littered the air as they weaved feverishly around one another. The gentle touch of your hands brought Hawks down from his high, and his feathers slowed until they lazily spun like autumn leaves. You pulled him down into a tight embrace and buried your face into his hair. He heaved into your chest, and you watched all the little pieces of him flutter around your room in the light of the moon.

He often lost control of his wings when you made love. They'd fluff up and flap wildly when he came, which often knocked shelves from your walls and your lamp from your bedside table. That was the first time he shed his feathers, and you were in awe.

"Are you okay?" he asked. His voice was gravely and shuttered between labored breaths.

“Yeah, I’m just... admiring," you said as you stared over his shoulder. He glanced behind him, and his cheeks tinted the faintest shade of pink when he realized the pitiful state of his wings. The little red feathers spread all around your room stilled in the air and swarmed to his back, returning his iconic limbs to their full glory.

“Er, you managed to pluck me. How embarrassing,” he quipped. You were so sore and exhausted from his sex all you could manage was a little laugh. You were a gasping mess, though, when he finally pulled out of you. The loss of pressure was a relief, but it also left you feeling empty. You laid quiet and trembling as he leaned back to marvel over the mess he made of you. His thumbs spread you open again, and he let out a breathless moan as you felt his come leak from you. His head dipped between your thighs. That beautiful tongue of his flicked out and lapped at the mess on your pussy. The warm wriggling of the muscle shocked your swollen clit and made you cry out, but you couldn't bear to ask him to stop. It satisfied something in you to watch as he licked you clean of your slick and his own come.

When he was content that he'd cleaned you thoroughly, he laid his body carefully beside you in your bed. His fingers tangled in your hair as he locked you into a kiss. You could taste the sex he licked from you on his tongue. 

The sex was always feverish and ravishing, but the afterglow was your addiction. In the beginning, it was rare. To kiss and caress crossed the line into his discomfort, but the more he learned to trust you the more of his affection you earned. The man who feared human touch began to ask for hugs every visit. Kisses became frequent and pleasant the more he let you do it. Then came sex that felt less like vicious wars and more like making love. Yes, after everything you did to earn his intimacy, nothing felt as lovely as lying naked beneath his plush plumage. 

His feathers caressed every inch of your aching body. His warm mouth, still wet from the sex, pressed gentle kisses onto your face. Your head rested against his arm as your breath slowly steadied. His wing flexed and rested on your shoulder as if tucking you in beneath a plush comforter.

“Mm. You like that?” he pondered breathlessly. His fingers trailed up your scarred side until they combed through your hair. There was a ginger softness to the touch that made your heart quiver. He smiled at you, those yellow eyes pierced through the dim light and into your soul. as you reached your hand out to run your fingers under his jaw. 

“Do you need to ask?” you hummed. Your cheeks were still red and your chest quaked as you slowly came down from the high. 

He laughed. What a lovely, airy sound. You hummed in the glory of the moment. And, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, you could breathe again. Typically, he’d spend his days off kicked back on your living room couch with a tall bottle of something hard in his hand. You’d go a week or so without seeing him when things got tense in the hero world, of course, but in the last two months, you’d had him for only a handful of nights. It was concerning, but you knew better than to ask. No matter how close the two of you had become he would never talk to you about work.

“It's been a while since you last flew in,” you noted as you got comfortable beneath his plumage. His body beside yours was the definition of comfort. Your mind could only be at peace when he was safe in your bed. “It’s nice to see you again, I was worried.”

“I know, it’s been too long. No need to worry, though, Chickpea, I’m right here,” he replied. His slow exhale tangled in your hair, and his hand's gentle touch found your cheek. He offered no explanation for his lengthy absences, but he and his crimson wing caressed you with apologies. 

You relaxed to the sound of his steady breath through the dim blue light of your bedroom. The wing he draped over you was so plush and warm you could easily fall asleep. You might have, if not for the fear of waking up without him. You scooted closer to wind your arms around his chest and bury your face in his neck. 

"I really wish you could stay," you whispered. 

To let your love get in his way was the last thing you wanted, but it was the utterance of a moment of weakness. It was uncharacteristic of you, the pathetic way it sounded, and you felt him stiffen under your arm as he soaked in your request. While there was never a confession of love, you'd tamed the wild bird with years of patience and earnest affection. He was loyal to you. It was cruel of you to ask for something you knew he couldn't give.

“Ah… I would if I could help it, you know that,” he sighed into your forehead, “but I can try to stay until morning.”

“Please. I’d like that.” It came out like the voice of a frightened child, but it was difficult to hide your need for him anymore. 

If you dwelled any further on the possibility of him vanishing, your emotions were going to get the better of you. You played with the feathers draped over your shoulder to calm yourself. A small one by your face was pinched between your fingers as you rolled the barbs around.

"Your wings are filthy," you mused. Dirt particles littered the poor things. You were sure, with some rooting, you'd find a few bugs he’d picked up in the air, too. "Actually, all of you is filthy. You got dirt all in my sheets, bird brain."

"Oh. Shit, my bad," he murmured as he sat upright. You shivered when the warmth of his wing left you.

"Hm, it's fine. Throw your clothes in the wash and I'll get a shower ready for you, sound good?"

“Sounds good.”

The bed creaked in relief when he stood. His frame was slender and small, but his wings at least doubled the weight of him. That was evident with how smothering being beneath him could feel. He kicked off his pants, though his body was still covered by the black and gold bodysuit he wore beneath them. It warmed your heart to see him carry his uniform out of your room and hear him tinker with the washer on the other side of the wall. The sound of the cloth being tossed inside followed by the creak of an opening cabinet seeped through the drywall, followed by the pop of the detergent lid coming off.

He was intimately familiar with your tiny abode. You’d made sure things stayed in the same place so he'd know where everything was the next time he'd visit. You'd been especially anal about it since he'd often be gone for such long periods at a time. When he returned, you wanted your home to feel like it belonged to him, too.

A sensation overcame you as you laid alone in your bed. The sheets were warm from the love you’d just made. Despite his tongue cleaning you off, you could still feel the faint warmth of him inside of you. His contented sigh found you through the wall and your heart burst.

To the rest of the world, he was a hero, but he was so much more to you. You'd give anything to have him completely. For his voice to echo, groggy and sheepish, against your walls every morning. To get to kiss him goodbye before the sun rose, and to welcome him home every afternoon with a warm embrace. For a ring on your finger; a crib in the bedroom. That wasn’t the kind of life that was meant for him, though. As long as he was afraid of you being hurt, those secret nights were all you’d ever have. It made sense. He had enemies, and you could only imagine how your quiet life would turn upside down if you ended up in the pages of a tabloid.

You only spent time together in the privacy of your apartment. Even after two years of being close to him, there was so little you knew about his life separate from you. What little you did know only made you frustrated on his behalf. You held out hope that it could eventually change, for your sake and his.

Preening Hawks was your favorite thing to do with him. There was something special about being across from one another in the shower, naked, warm water rushing over your bodies as your fingers smoothed and placed his dampened feathers. It took the first year of your friendship for him to allow you to touch them at all, so it was an obvious display of his trust in you. Which was understandable. His wings were an integral part of his identity. You watched as he ran his hands over his face and into his hair. His expression was in a relaxed state of bliss as your fingers picked through his plumage.

With his massive wings on either side of you like plush, padded walls, it felt like nothing in the world could get you. His laughter echoed around the small room as he told jokes and stories. It was okay if you didn't have anything to say, or if you just wanted to listen. He would talk for you when you fell short, and that's usually what got you laughing. 

Through the gentle moment, though, you couldn't help but let your emotions get the better of you. During times like those, when his visits were few and far between, your mind danced around the question of why. The possibilities bounced between him either being in danger or losing interest in you. Both were scary thoughts since he had become such an integral part of your life.

"Would you mind if I ask something?" you pondered, which accidentally interrupted a story he'd been telling about an intern of his.

"Depends what it is.”

"Well… there are a million girls out there who'd gladly do this with you," you mused, and it was true, even if it stung a little to remember. "Did you decide to do this with me because it was convenient?" 

That had been your reason, initially. Hawks spent a lot of time hanging around your apartment and he just happened to be wildly attractive. There were no feelings when he’d first asked if he could fuck you. That didn't come until later.

He laughed, and you glared at him.

“Self-doubt, huh? That isn’t like you. Me being away a lot’s really shaken you up, huh?” 

"It's not self-doubt, I'm just genuinely curious," you quipped as you pulled a feather from his wing. They'd moult if they hung around too long, so pulling out the loose ones was a help to him.

"Well… what we have going on is far from convenient," he said. "If that's what I was going for, I'd go after a pro that could keep a secret. It ain't easy to sneak away like this, you know."

So even a pro hero would have to be a secret for him? Did Hawks have any chance at all for a normal life?

“I wanted you, and if I want something, I go for it.”

You swallowed down a breath you’d been holding, but you didn’t say anything else as you watched his eyes dance around the bathroom in thought. 

"And I wanted you because… well, there were a lot of reasons. The night we met was a big one, I guess.”

You looked away. That night felt taboo to mention, considering all the guilt you knew he harbored. Your scars weren’t his fault. Several villains were on a rampage, and your hospital was in the destructive path. You were just another civilian, caught in the crossfire. His feathers tried, but they couldn’t get you out of the building. You’d been partially crushed beneath the rubble. 

“I was sure it was the end of the road for me. It would have been if you and your quirk hadn’t been trapped inside with me. You have a forcefield. You could have used it to protect yourself, but you bubbled me instead. You were gonna die. I was so sure you were gonna die and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.”

Still, your lips wouldn’t move. You’d spent ten months in an ICU after you were crushed beneath the weight of two stories of concrete. If not for the healing quirks of EMTs, you wouldn’t have survived at all. If not for your sacrifice, Hawks wouldn’t have, either. Still, it wasn’t his fault.

 “Still hurts to know I couldn’t help you when you needed me most, but when I looked in your eyes, there wasn't a hint of fear. All I saw was determination. I never met someone who was so sure of their choices, even in the face of death," he recalled. Your emotions skirted between sadness and flattery as you heard his thoughts. If only you could live up to that selfless picture of you, now. “I know a lot of pros who could only hope to have that kind of resolve.”

“Damn, when you tell it you make me sound like a badass,” you quipped, and your laughter bounced around the shower stall.

“I mean, what are the requirements to be donned with the title of badass? I’m sure you’re overqualified. Either that or you’re fucking crazy, which is also a possibility.”

You snorted.

“I'm not crazy. My job is to help people after they've been hurt. If I bubbled you instead, I’d be saving every person you’d live to protect. Before they would need a nurse like me. It’s just what made sense.”

He was silent for a moment as he absorbed your reasoning. You tended to be rational, even in the most emotional of situations. But that borderline-robotic way of thinking was a by-product of your own miseries.

You were a nurse in a world overcome by demigods and treachery. Some of the things you'd seen in the OR would haunt you for the rest of your life. And, sometimes, those ghosts came to torment you in your dreams. That made it hard the first time Hawks slept in your bed. You would sometimes wake with tears in your eyes as your voice quivered out sobs. Your past lovers didn't understand that part of you. The broken part. The part that had been poisoned by the darker side of this superpowered world. 

That's what fostered your love for Hawks. When he had awoken early that morning to you crying beside him, he’d only reacted with a patient embrace. He adored the bright parts of you, but he also had a solemn understanding and respect for your darkness. Having that connection through your mutual suffering was a kind of bond you’d never had before him. And now that you had it, you couldn't imagine life without. 

You went back to preening. You pressed up on your knees to reach a bit higher on his wing, and he watched intently. His voice died into silence as his gaze swept over your naked form, which dripped from the steam of the shower. It wasn't a surprise. Often, he would get lost in himself as he observed you, like a curious bird. It felt like a wordless compliment, so you silently allowed his eyes to explore you. Not that his hands and mouth and cock hadn't already drawn a map of you in his mind.

"Whatcha thinking about?" you teased playfully, and he hummed in response.

"How you look at my wings… I like it."

"Everybody looks at your wings," you said dismissively. A half-smile graced your face.

"You’re right. They do. People admire me because of what they’re capable of. It's what people think of first when they think of me, and rightfully so. They're hard to ignore. But when you look at me, you look at my face first, my wings second. It's like you admire them because they're a part of me, not because of what they can do. I appreciate that." 

Your fingers in said feathers slowed to a stop as he spoke. You smiled a little to yourself as you brushed them against a feather. He shivered. "Your quirk is a part of who you are. That's why I like cleaning them for you. It feels like I get to give you something special, but wings or not, I'd still want you."

Falling in love with Hawks was the best and worst thing you’d ever experienced. The pleasure of those beautiful moments seeped into your soul like a warm cup of tea. But the anguish that followed after he flew out your window… there wasn't a simile that could correctly describe the immeasurable pain. 

Your response must have triggered a long series of difficult thoughts for the bird. His head tilted slightly, his eyes hardened in expression and his brows furrowed as he soaked in your confession.

"In the year we've been doing this… has there ever been another man?" he pondered. The question jarred you. Occasionally, he'd get a touch possessive of his time with you. He’d asked a time or two who you were texting. You knew him well enough to pick up the hint of jealousy despite his light tone, but he never asked anything so outright.

“Well, look who's got self-doubt now. You sure are eager for a lot of questions and confessions tonight. What’s gotten into you?” you asked.

He shrugged. “You asked a question, so it's my turn now. Besides, we’ve been close for a couple of years. We've been intimate for half of that. just seems a little silly to keep up the fuck buddies act. Or is it just me?”

Fuck buddies act? You bit your lip. Hard. When he was with you he was so relaxed. This seriousness was unusual, and it made your wet skin rough with goosebumps.

"It's not just you," you confessed. 

For a short while, the bathroom was filled with only the sound of the running shower as you collected your confession. 

"There hasn't been another man since you. I mean… I've gone on dates a few times, but it never got that far," you replied. The moment another man kissed you… Well, kisses felt dirty if they were with anyone other than Hawks. "I know this thing you and I have going on was meant to be a no strings attached kind of affair, but… Well, if I’m being honest with you, it feels wrong trying to sleep with anyone but you. I like what we have, and I've always got the impression that you really do, too."

He didn't say anything. You weren't sure whether or not that was what he wanted to hear.

"Have you?" you asked. "Been with anyone else?"

You’d never asked before. At first, it was because it didn't feel like your business. Then, when the thought eventually made your heart ache, you didn't ask because you didn't want to know. But now that you had come clean, it only felt fair that he did, too.

Air left his nose and his head bobbed back until his wet hair pressed against the shower stall.

"Once,” he confessed, and he sounded ashamed now that he knew you never did. “I used to have this on again, off again thing, before I knew you. I messed with her a few weeks after you and I first… well, you know. But only once, then never again.”

You’d thought it would crush you to learn he’d been with someone else, but it didn’t sting like you thought it would. Probably because you didn't know specifics. If you knew what woman had her hands on him, if you could see it, it probably would destroy you. But the apologetic way he said it put your heart at ease. He mumbled like he knew it would hurt you, and he didn’t want it to. But you weren’t wounded, and your feelings weren’t perturbed. He never promised you anything, just as you’d never made promises to him.

“Why’d you stop seeing her?” you asked as you scooted closer to smooth shampoo suds down in his hair. He only shrugged at first, then sighed in contemplation when your fingers combed along his scalp.

“I’ve never had a place I could go to, you know?” he said. “I’ve never had somewhere like this, where I can lay my head for a little while and just be…”

“Pampered?” you suggested as your hands moved to massage his shoulder blades between his wings.

He breathed out a little laugh, but shook his head. “Yeah, but that’s not what I was thinkin’.”

“Out with it then,” you teased.

“Well… I’ve never had somewhere I’ve felt safe and... cared about?” he said, though his eyes were distant and lost when he said it, as if he wasn’t sure he should have.

“I gotta always be looking over my shoulder. Gotta always have a mask on and hope no one ever sees through it. But here, everything’s relaxed. You couldn’t care less what my ranking on some chart is or how much money is in my pocket. You don't give a shit about heroing or the tabloids. You’re the only person in my life who asks for nothing other than my company. I feel human here. I didn’t want to jeopardize that, or what I had with you. That’s why I stopped seeing her.”

Your mouth went dry. While your nights were long and passionate, you’d never whispered sweet nothings. You’d never told him how much he and his company meant to you because you felt he wouldn’t want to hear it, but he kept coming back. For a year he had clung wordlessly to what little affection you gave him. If he’d told you this a year prior, you would have given him so much more love.

“So you do have deeper feelings for me. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He was silent, as you’d expected him to be. He both craved and feared the closeness he’d formed with you. At times he’d drown you in sweet little bits of affection, but, when things got too deep, he would shut down. Through the last couple of years, you’d broken through a lot of his walls, but the cold influence of the commission would always be with him. Even if he was in love with you, he’d never understand how to tell you.

"Because of who I am when I fly out your window,” he began. The reverb of his voice against the shower stall took you off guard. You didn’t expect him to answer. "There are things I know you want from me… things that I can’t give you right now, and you deserve more than that. That’s why I never planned on telling you… Fuck. It was never supposed to be like this…”

He spoke more to himself than he did to you at that moment. There was an internal battle going on in his mind; one you'd never really be able to understand, but you wanted to try. 

"You mean you never meant to get attached?"

His silence was telling.

"It's okay," you said. "We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to." You took a hold of his hand, but he flinched away from you. He was regressing back into old habits. It had been months since he’d last recoiled to your affection. Something was terribly wrong. The recoil was fine. It was okay. Whatever he needed to feel comfortable. "I'm sorry-" 

"No, I'm sorry," he interrupted. He rubbed the wrist you had touched as if you'd burned him. His brow was knit and his mouth became a harsh line. "Sometimes it feels easy and other times it doesn't, but I'm trying."

"I know you are. Like I said, we don't have to talk about feelings." 

He stared at you, and the longer his gaze rested on your face, the softer it became, "I want to try." 

You nodded and wrapped your arms around your naked knees. The shower had been turned off long ago by a cluster of his feathers, but the soothing steam still lingered around you. 

“It's just… this is difficult. One day someone may shoot me out of the sky. The thought of you still being right here, waiting for me, when I can never come back… It... kills me." He paused, his eyes hazed over as he swallowed his emotion down. The rawness in his voice struck such an unpleasant chord that your own eyes pricked with bitter water. "That's why I didn’t want attachments like this. But I didn't mean for all this between you and me. You snuck into me slowly, I didn't even notice until it was too late."

"Is this supposed to be flattering? It sounds like you're likening me to a parasite or something- heartworm," you quipped in an effort to dispel the heavy tension. He smiled, but only for a moment before he rolled his eyes at you. 

"Just… listen to me," he said, and your eyes trained on his as your mouth closed. "If that ever happens… If there comes a day you've been waiting for me, only to find out I'm never coming back, please know that I cared for you."

He didn't use the word love, but that's very much what he was trying to convey. In a way, you’d kind of always knew. It was why he’d said it, how he’d said it, that made your eyes prick with tears at their corners. The thought of what he was implying petrified you. Hawks was so skilled, so powerful, so almighty. Despite all his power, though, he was human, just like you. The night you’d met proved how possible death was for him. Nothing could keep him safe forever, not even your forcefields.

But he’d never talked like this before. He was always so light-hearted and relaxed. His work and the dangers associated with it was off the menu of conversion topics. What had happened to bring all this darkness up now?

"You talk like you’re preparing for death." 

Again, he didn’t reply. His silence was more terrifying than anything he could have said, but trying to pry him open would only break him, it seemed. So you didn’t.

“May I kiss you?” you asked instead. 

He nodded.

You leaned forward and breathed into his ear. He shivered when you placed a gentle kiss on the shell of it. His earring pressed against your lip was a gentle and familiar feeling, but after you heard all he had to say it also felt fleeting. He always had some ulterior motive or hidden reason for every little thing he did. It's as if he said all this because tomorrow would be the day he was gone.

“I’m not preparing to die.” Your kiss gave him the courage to speak. "I have too much to live for. It’s just always a possibility- for anybody, really. But heroes especially. I just wanted it off my chest is all."

He smiled at you, but you’d seen every smile in his repertoire, and this one was faker than your stick-on-backsplash. The air never felt so tense between you. Not even the night you met, dying feet away from each other. It all felt so… heavy. The weight of it pressed hard into your chest.

“Er, this reminds me, while we're on topic, I got some things going on at the agency. I hate to say it, but you won't see me again for a little while. I don’t know how long. It could be a couple of months.” His disposition remained fake casual. His shoulders and face were relaxed as he enjoyed the steam of the shower, but his wings tensed. You felt it in your palms as you preened him.

"You're in trouble," you said. Your mouth went dry as the realization drained the color from your face. 

"Trouble? Me? Nah. Just work stuff."

He spoke with a relaxed air about him, but he couldn’t lie to you. 

"No. You've been acting off all night. You’ve been making all these confessions. Talking about death, telling me you're going away for a while. I know you better than you think I do; something big happened and you're trying to tie up loose ends in case you don't get out of it okay," you rambled, and the more you talked the higher your voice became. It trembled and wavered with building fear. 

He stared at you. That silly face of his melted into a thin line and sharp, angular eyes. Those tricks worked when no one was close enough to see through them, but you knew his genuine smile like the back of your hand. You saw right through his facade, and he was annoyed by the very determination he just prided you for. 

"Can't get anything past you, can I?" 

You didn't whimper, but your eyes became glossy with emotion. It was a strange mixture of panic, sorrow, and rage. You had no idea what he'd gotten into, but you also knew he would never tell. He placed preserving missions above all else, which made sense but was frustrating.

"I don't know what's going on, but you need to get out of it if you're thinking it's something you may not come back from." 

"Things aren't that simple. I chose this life, I gotta follow through."

"No, I chose to be a nurse when I was sixteen and understood the implications of what I'd have to go through. You were fucking six when the commission took you, and they spent all that time gaslighting and taking advantage of you-"

"We aren’t talking about that right now, don't use it against me.” 

"Use it- what? I'm not using anything against you! You’re the one alluding to death! There’s nothing wrong at the agency, there’s something else- something terrible-" 

"Drop it.”

“How can I?!”

"Because I said so." His eyes were narrow and mouth a tight, thin line. You could read him so well. He was regretting this. All of this, because now you were onto whatever suicide mission he was embarking on. But, as his lover, how could you just sit back and silently watch him throw himself into a danger that had even him shaken?

You got louder, and he got louder. You tossed bitter, confused words back and forth until he was screaming. Until you were screaming back at him. Your calm, laid back demeanor slipped through your fingers the moment you realized he could be in over his head. That, if you let him leave, this could be the last night you’d ever spend with him. Your anger was driven by your fear for his life, and his was driven by your inability to let it go. 

He was still screaming. You were still screaming. You were fighting him. He just told you you were the most important person in his life, and you were spitting venom. 

You stopped.

He stopped.

Your hand came to your bare chest as it heaved in an attempt to steady your breath. The other came up to wipe the tears budding in your eyes. He looked away from you, his brow tugged heavily downward, his jaw clenched together in shame.

"Let’s just breathe, okay?" you pleaded.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," you whimpered into your hand. "Out of everyone in the world, you're the last who needs to say sorry, so don't. It's just- it's not right, okay? You're too… I don't know, selfless? I watch all the time as that gets taken advantage of. Doesn’t it get tiring? Even your name is some dirty secret. I've been sleeping with you for a year and I don't even know what it is-"

"Yes, you do," he argued, his lip wavered with weakness for one vulnerable moment. "You know me- you know my name."

Desperation laced between his words and strung the sentence together. It wasn't easy to see your lover look at you that way, just begging for you to let pieces of him go. It was hard to accept it, but whatever name he went by prior to heroism didn't exist anymore. Neither did the once innocent child it belonged to. You tried to respect that, but it was unfair he was denied a basic human right: to have a name. 

"You're Hawks, I know, I'm sorry… it's just… how much is left of yourself that actually belongs to you? How long until there’s nothing left to give? People have taken so much from you that you’ve become numb to it; do you even know what you're missing out on? Do you even know how lonely you are? When’s the last time anybody even asked if you were okay?"

He realized, then, that you weren't angry at him.

You were angry for him.

His eyes shifted to yours, and he nibbled at his bottom lip before he muttered with the quirk of his mouth: “Well, you ask me that pretty much every time you see me.”

There it was. The crack in your voice. The crinkle of your nose and the tremble of your lip. You cried, and he sat there across from you, still bare as his wings lowered to either side of you. His expression didn't change, and, for once, you couldn't read it. You didn't want to be so upset, but knowing he was in some kind of dangerous trouble that shook even him was too much for you to bear.

"I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. It’s just… Do you have any idea how many heroes I've wheeled into the morgue? People die on my table all of the time. Every time is just as hard as the last, but the heroes- those are the ones that destroy me. Because every time someone in a cape lands on the table I know their families are waiting for them at home, just like I wait here for you.

"I saved you once, but you're so far away from me, too far for my forcefields to reach you. Hearing you say you’re going away- all I can think of is coming into work one day and finding you c-... covered in a sheet."

His wings moved up from the shower floor. The feathers were dark with dampness as their joints pressed into your back. You sat there like that as he let you cry. Really, what else could he have done? What else could you have done? Of course you were angry. You would be for the rest of your life over how his panned out. His childhood was taken from him, his understanding of human affection was still stunted, even after all the time you spent gently undoing what damage had been done. Now he talked like one wrong move would end it all.

"It's… difficult," he began, though he couldn't make eye contact with you. He usually couldn't when you had discussions like this. "Being a hero isn’t what I imagined I would be when I was a kid. And sometimes I do ask myself: 'what is this all for? There's always going to be a new bad guy. Why does it matter?' And then I think about you…" 

He went silent for a moment; you could see the little battle behind his eyes. The battle between his affection deprived confusion and his need to be closer to you. To explain himself. 

"I think about you and it reminds me there are good people who are worth fighting for. As long as you are here and there are bad people out there that could hurt you, I have to be out there, too. And, yeah, sometimes I get afraid. But as long as I have these wings, I'm going to use them to keep this world safe for you."

He’d never felt so close to you, and yet so far away. He thought even more of you than you anticipated. A part of you felt touched you'd become a cornerstone for his sanity in such a hostile world, but the other part felt sick. If he wanted to fight for you, that was fine.

But to die for you; that would be unforgivable.

The urge to argue the worth of his life weighed heavy on your heart. If you did, he would call you hypocritical, considering your own history of self-sacrifice. It wasn’t the same, though. His self-worth depended on his usefulness to others and little else, and you feared the day that usefulness ran out. What would Hawks be, if not a hero? It should have such a simple answer, like what you would be if not a nurse. But it didn't. It never would.

You leaned forward to pull him into a tight hug. Perhaps when he was anywhere else you were unable to protect him, but right there, in your arms, you'd use whatever you could to keep him safe. Your bubbles, your kind words, anything. 

"I understand," you said, because you knew there were no words that could keep him away from the hero path. It wasn't just a part of his identity; it was all he'd ever known. "Just… don't forget when the heroing is said and done, you'll always have a place here if you need it."

He hummed a small, contented coo at your kindness. Of course, you didn't have to tell him that. He already knew. Why else would he spend so much of his precious little free time cuddled up to you? 

"I'll remember," he promised as his arms and damp wings curled in to squeeze you against him. 

You and Hawks bathed in the comforting darkness of your bedroom. Your window was frosted from the bitter cold outside, but his body heat kept you warm in the safety of your bed. Or nest, rather, as Hawks tended to construct mounds of tangled comforters and wadded up bedsheets to hide in as he got comfortable. You were buried beneath the mass of cloth and the cocoon of his wings as you tried to fall asleep. It was a difficult undertaking since you didn’t know when you’d see him again. You were so tired, but you wanted to be awake to hold him for what little time you had left. 

You wouldn’t have gotten any sleep, anyway.

Often when Hawks slept in your bed you'd awaken at strange hours. Sometimes this was due to your own nightmares. The subject bounced between the traumatic things you’d seen at the hospital and the night you’d met. You'd wake to find that you’d encased your bed in your protective bubble during your sleep, and Hawks' wings squeezed you gently against his chest. Other nights, it was Hawks' anxiety that would keep you awake.

During the day, his guard was discreetly up. He carried carefree conversations as if unbothered, but those well-trained feathers of his were on constant guard. Really, he never had a moment to breathe. This was something you never would have understood the depths of if you weren't woken by his anxiety in the midst of the night. The anxiety he kept bottled during the day often let itself out in the form of night terrors. He'd mumble. Roll. His wings would twitch over you. His face would morph into an agonized expression, and he chirped in distress. A good, gentle shake was usually all it took to pull him out of the bad dream. 

That night his nerves reared their head, though in an unorthodox way. Apparently, you did fall asleep, because you awoke with a small grumble when you felt the mattress groan, followed by a heavy weight draping over your body. You let out a long whine of displeasure, but the weight just got heavier. You turned your head and opened your eyes to find Hawks, but he wasn't gasping in his sleep. He laid over you, wings puffed but flat on either side of your bed as he stared at the bedroom door.

"Hawks? You're squishing me." 

He didn't answer or turn to look at you. Those sharp eyes of his danced around in panic, his feathers raised as they sensed every small movement in your apartment. You dropped your head back onto your pillow with a sigh. 

"What's the matter?" you pondered.

"Shh," he hummed. "I felt something…"

You laid and listened for a short while, but all you could hear was the lady in the apartment above you walking across her floor.

"It's my neighbor."

"What if it's not?" 

Whether the display was the primal instruction from the bird in him to protect his mate or if it was a by-product of the harsh reality of the life he lived, you weren't sure. Either way, his calm and almost lazy facade cracked. When the world was quiet and his feathers could sense every mundane movement in your apartment, his anxiety that those small bumps in the night might be something that could hurt you overwhelmed him.

The little display was an annoyance to your sleep-deprived brain, but his first thought in the midst of his worry was to protect you. That spared him from your groggy wrath. 

"Lay down, McNugget. There's no one there," you grumbled, but he didn't turn his head away from the door. 

Feeling your hand on his face seemed to snap him back into the moment, even if just a little. He leaned into you and encased you in his wings. It felt like a protective gesture, but the warmth you found beneath them made you hum pleasantly. The fluffy white cloth of his hoodie rubbed your cheeks as he cuddled into you. Well, actually, it was your hoodie. 

At one time it was just some old thing you'd snagged from a thrift store on a chilly day. It was much too large for you, though. When Hawks came into your life later on, you'd cut holes out of the back and hemmed it up. That way he'd have a little something to throw on when it got chilly at your place. He never said it out loud, but he loved the thing. He'd go looking for it if you didn't leave it laying out in the living room. 

"I know you usually have a lot to be afraid of, but you don't have to worry about protecting me. I'm a badass, remember?" you whispered into the shell of his ear. His shoulders relaxed just a bit, and he puffed out a little chuckle. 

"Yeah, I know. I just… I want you to be safe. That's all." 

Your gaze softened, though he couldn't see it in the darkness. You didn't need Hawks to protect you. You didn't need a hero. You needed a best friend; a lover. Between the both of you, he was the one in most need of saving.

"Shh," you hummed gently. Your hair lifted from your pillow and danced slowly around your face as if gravity was lost to you. He scrunched his nose as your locks brushed his cheeks, and his wings settled flat as a ring rose from the floor around your bed. The translucent wall came together above your bodies to form a hard, bubble shell.

"You've been the hero long enough. Let me be the protector tonight,” you said. His throat bobbed against your shoulder as his arms wound around you. He settled, but you still felt his unease.

“What’s got your feathers ruffled?”

“You shouldn’t have to protect me,” he said. His voice was muffled since his mouth was pressed into your skin, but you still heard the sadness in it. “I should be taking care of you.”

You blinked as you soaked in his words. For a year you pined for such romantic things to come out of his mouth. Of course he’d wait for a night like that night to say such sickeningly sweet things. The future that used to feel so full of mystery and excitement had become dangerous, uncertain, and disappointing.

“You don’t have to be the hero every time,” you replied.

“But if I’m not a hero, what am I?”

His question was an echo of your fears. The ambient light from your window filtered dimly into your forcefield, but your eyes couldn’t adjust with tears in them.

“I don't know if I have the answer you're looking for, but... Do you remember when I was in the hospital?" you asked. "When you first came to see me you brought a twenty-piece box of chicken nuggets, and while I was trying to eat one you laughed until you were crying because it looked vaguely like a penis.”

“Vaguely? It had balls and everything,” he recalled, and you rolled your watering eyes.

“Whatever. It was stupid, but it was the first time I laughed since I was trapped in that hospital. And, well… when they said I’d never walk again you helped me out of bed. I cried myself to sleep some nights, but you were there, still trying to save me. You were trying to be a hero then, too, but you became my best friend. If nothing else, that's what you’ll always be to me.”

A sound came out of him akin to laughter. You shot him a look, then hooked your finger under his chin. You wanted to see his dumb grin when you berated him for poking fun at you. When his eyes met yours, though, they weren’t crinkled with laughter. They were red and watering.

“Oh, Hawks,” you breathed, and he tucked his face back into your arm to hide his vulnerability. He never cried before. At least not in front of you. He was always the immovable one, virtuous and strong. Moments like this reminded you just how human he was beneath it all.

“I’m right here. I’ve got you,” you assured him in a whisper. Gentle promises spilled from your lips like lullabies, and he clung to every word with heart-breaking desperation. You whispered every sweet nothing you could think of to ease his pain, but you didn’t have that kind of power. 

You had no power at all.

His world always seemed scary to you. You feared for his life every day, but the thought of him being ripped from your arms overwhelmed you that night more than it ever had before. The protective bubble that encased your bed would keep him safe for as long as you could fight sleep, but what of the morning? You’d be safe at home, and he’d be lost somewhere in the dangerous fray of his duties. Far away from your warmth and the apartment he found so much comfort in. 

This would not be the last time you held him. You had to believe that, but what if it was? What if this sleepless night was your last together? 

Tell him you love him, you thought to yourself. Tell him before you never get the chance again. 

You bit your lip as you felt his trembling breaths on your collar. You prepared your lips for the taste of the confession, but he was so vulnerable, more so than he may have ever been before. He didn’t need you to tell him about your affections, he needed you to use them.

You placed a reassuring crown of kisses along his forehead, and he gripped you so hard his knuckles were surely white. 

When you’d cried as a child, your mother would lay in your bed and sing lullabies until you fell asleep. Your voice was untrained and awkward compared to hers, but you tried your best to use it. Your off-key tune echoed back to you in the dome of your forcefield, and your cheeks pinkened with how childlike it sounded. Your embarrassment interrupted your lullaby. He stirred against your chest.

“Don’t stop,” he said. “Please, sing to me.”

You cleared your throat as you gathered the courage to start again. His eyes fell closed as your song settled into the safety of your shield. His feathers relaxed, and his face went slack as sleep slowly overtook him. You sang until his tears stopped flowing. You sang until he was asleep in your arms. For as long as you could, you laid awake. If you succumbed to sleep, so would your forcefield. So would your promise to keep him protected through the night. As time moved slowly forward, sleep inevitably began to settle into you, too. It was as terrifying and as peaceful as death.

“I love you,” you whimpered as you felt your eyes grow too heavy to fight back open. “Please… stay safe.”

Credits: 

A massive thank you to my wonderful friend and editor, @fuwafuwagem​! If you thought the fic looked especially polished, it’s thanks to her efforts!

Also a big thank you to my buddies and beta readers: @dendriticheep​ and @narcolepticroses​! Thanks you guys for being such sweet friends to me ;u;

And a huge thanks to YOU, for reading !

Authors Note:

I’d love to do a lot more fanfictions like these! If you have any suggestions or requests for animations or animated stories like this one feel free to submit it to me!

[sukirichi]

wine: ingredient 44 + sugar 7 + spice 12 for gojo satoru *slams table* thank you for feeding us kind maam

for sukirichi’s milestone event: 

the meal order : 🍷 + 44 (hate sex au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) + 12 (praising kink) your dinner has been served! also bruh LOL you’re a choso simp this is hilarious spspsps

— who are you to deny him when he only wants to worship you?

gojo satoru x fem! reader

contents/warnings: nsfw, slight angst, reader is hot girl shit, gojo long schlong, hate sex, car sex, spanking, riding gojo, slight angst, praising kink taken to a DIFFERENT LEVEL (i want to make people question the extent of their praising kink), body marking, rough sex lol it’s always rough in my stories, unedited

Your friends pushed you out of the club, all of you laughing, hands clutched around your waists as loud, drunken giggles fill in the night air. It was a wild night; your friends invited you to the club to take your mind off your stupid boyfriend. You thought you’d end up moping around, too much of a buzzkill to ever let loose because it wasn’t that easy to stop thinking about him, but even you were surprised when you started grinding with people on the dance floor just three drinks later.

The gals were more than delighted to see you enjoying your night, only dragging you out the club when you nearly shoved your tongue down another man’s throat.

Scratch that – your friends called you to hang out because you lied about having a shitty day at work. You’ve had your fair share of shitty days, but you were one of the most prominent lawyers in your firm, no one dared gave you a bad day. Your subordinates knew that if they even looked your way without your permission, you wouldn’t hesitate to dump paperwork on them, or assign them to the nastiest cases just to piss them off.

Yeah, you were sort of a bitch, but you didn’t care.

It took a lot to get where you were now. It wasn’t easy to be a woman in a male-dominated workplace and you were forced to strip your softness off, replacing it with hard armor and sharp tongue concealed under bold red lips, a tight pencil skirt that accentuated your curves, and a pair of black suede pumps.

You deserved all your success. You were smart, stunning, confident, powerful – so then why did you feel like shit around your shitty boyfriend?

The answer was loud and clear. It bothered you to no end that he wanted to keep your relationship a secret because his family was too different from yours, coming up with a shitty excuse that you were just “too different.” He never bothered explaining, and every time you confronted him about, he’d only wave his hand, distract you with those delicious and soft lips of his until you forget it over and over again.

You were okay with it at first. It wasn’t a really serious relationship; you only started dating him because you saw yourself a lot in him – confident, self-assured, maybe even a little cocky – plus, he was extremely attractive.

But the longer you spent time with him, you were beginning to fall in love.

Yes, you, the ice princess of one of the most respected law firms all over the city was beginning to soften up at a certain blue-eyed man who had magical hands.

But tonight – tonight you’d forget about him.

Your stomach was heavy with expensive liquor and you were nearly staggering on your knees, the only thing preventing you from falling were your more sober friends. The others were holding you close to keep you upright, while one of your friends moved to a quieter part of the block to call an Uber for you. Your friends were all happily married, some with children, so they couldn’t really stay out too late at night and chaperone you all the way back home.

You were well-aware you were being a bother, but fuck, couldn’t you lean on someone for just once? Sighing, you leaned closer to your warm friend, mumbling something about wanting to forget about everything you’ve been through.

“There, there,” she patted your head comfortingly, “You’ll be fine, babe, you’re a strong woman. I know you’ll get through this.”

“But I hate it,” you drunkenly admitted, lips trembling the more you thought about him, every stupid little thing about him – his soft white hair, those pretty blue eyes he always hid under shades even at night, his large, calloused hands that always felt so rough when keeping your legs open for him and you couldn’t even start talking about his cock, he was just so blessed and perfect in every little thing that you hated it. You hated him. “I don’t like this feeling,” you sniffled, “I feel like I’m being looked down on, that I’m being pushed to the side. I feel unimportant, like I’m not good enough.”

“Who said you aren’t?”

You froze in your friend’s arms, eyes meeting with those blue ones you could never get enough of. As if noticing your silence, your friend immediately covers you with her arm, glaring at your boyfriend. “Do we know you or something?”

“No,” Satoru replies coolly, brows furrowed in the state you were in. You turned away from him with a scoff, arms crossed on your chest. Why did he have to be here out of all places? Wasn’t he busy with work or whatever family shit he apparently couldn’t tell you about even though you’ve both been dating for a year and a half now? He just wasn’t giving you a break, and the hairs on your arm stood up when he said, “Not that you have to, but may I please drive Y/N home?”

“She’s not going anywhere—”

“She’s a friend of mine,” he insisted, turning to you with a pleading look in his eyes. You almost melted. Almost. “I need to talk to her about something.”

You rolled your eyes and stepped forward, your friend’s arm latching onto yours. You could tell she was worried from the way her gaze darted back and forth between you two. Satoru was, after all, clearly uninvited, and he didn’t seem like your type either. You always insisted you preferred refined man, men like his friend Nanami Kento, but alas, you were stuck dating this one instead.

“It’s fine,” you told her with a fake smile, “I’ll call you later when I get home.”

You never got to call her – simply because you didn’t make it home. The moment Satoru closed the car doors behind you, you both got into a heated argument. Satoru hated silences and always made sure the car was filled with music, but this time, he didn’t notice there weren’t any songs when you opened your mouth.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the anger and pent-up tension of not being able to hold him and kiss him in public like normal couples did, in addition to the fact Satoru never explained why he insisted on keeping you a secret – whatever it was, you just snapped.

“I don’t even understand why I’m still dating you!” you huffed, legs crossed on top of the other as you gazed out the window. Lips trembling, you tried so hard to not cry, especially not in front of the man who was breaking your heart. “This is hardly a relationship when I’m not free to call or text you as you please, when I can’t go out with you on dates and we’re always hanging in my apartment. I’m your girlfriend, Satoru, we’ve been together for a long time but I honestly don’t even feel like it. What the hell are we dating for then?”

Satoru clenched his teeth, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “How many times do I have to tell you that I love you,” he said coolly, acting unbothered and unaffected as ever, but the clench in his jaw said otherwise. “If that’s not enough—”

“Of course it’s not enough!”

“I’m trying here too, okay?” Satoru slammed on the brakes and parked on a desolated spot, hands running through his hair while he breathed heavily. Once he’d calmed down, he shook his head, refusing to look you in the eye like a man. “I’m trying my best. It’s just hard. It isn’t as easy as it looks.”

“What isn’t easy as it looks? Dating me? Letting the whole world know I’m yours?” when Satoru didn’t respond, you scoffed, patience running low and thin. “You’re pathetic, Satoru. Dating you was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, and I thought I was a smart woman.”

With a shake of your head, you slung your purse over your shoulder and reached for the car door. You were about to leave when Satoru suddenly pulled you towards him, his lips slamming into yours.  Like always, you fell into his trap, into the blissful pleasure that was his lips and his hands, and you hated it, hated him, hated him so fucking much because you were so tired of his entire existence.

You wanted to let him know he was insufferable.

You wanted him to feel the pain and misery he put you through.

“I fucking hate you,” you snarled as Satoru kept fucking into you, the entire car windows fogged and the vehicle shaking. “I wish I never met you, you asshole,” Satoru, displeased, only buries himself deeper into you, as if they would erase his mistakes and shortcomings.

Satoru’s large hands snake to your waist and onto your breasts, expertly tweaking them between his fingers. Your head fell back to the crook of his shoulder, your back pressed against his hard chest as Satoru trapped you in his strong arms, impaling you on his cock over and over again. “You’re lying,” he whispered into your neck, tongue and teeth playfully sucking at the tender flesh. His grip on your hip was bruising and possessive, and your breasts bounced fervently at how he snapped his hips upwards to feel your walls coat him and hug him tightly and warmly. “Why would you hate me, sweet girl? Don’t I always make you feel good? Don’t I remind you enough that you’re the best fucking thing ever?”

You didn’t respond right away, your breath taken away with how you could never get enough of this, of him. He was right no matter how much you denied it. Despite being terrible in everything else, Satoru knew and respected you, even admired your dominance and intelligence when other men were intimidated by it.

No, he worshipped you. He made you feel like you were a divine goddess when he tugged at your hair to tilt your cheek to him, his tongue slithering to your lips to taste himself on his tongue from when you previously busted his nut with just your mouth.

Lipsticks smeared on his cheeks and crescent moons on his pale thigh from your nails, Satoru looked wonderful beneath you like this.

He was beautiful, so damn beautiful, but it didn’t change the fact he’d put you through hell these past few weeks. 

No, it wasn’t just the past few weeks. Things were always complicated with him. He was perfect in everything else but when it came to you, he made it a mission to hide you and your relationship, changing your contact name to a totally random one “just in case.”

Your mind was confuzzled and you felt like you were on the urge of breaking apart from both his ministrations and his confusing treatment over you. Before you knew it, you were kissing him back fervently with the intensity of your hatred over this man.

Your hand reached his to guide it to rub at your clit, and Satoru, eager to make you feel good as always, happily obliged. Satoru kept bouncing you on his cock until you were too overwhelmed to speak, crying and mumbling incomprehensible words. 

Him, only him, would ever have the ability to let the sharp-tongued and intelligent woman who never bat an eye in court lose her wide vocabulary, falling apart in his arms while his long length abused your puffy lips.

“You made me feel like shit,” you finally admitted, tugging at his hair until Satoru is lowly groaning at the slight sting. But did you care? Of course you didn’t. You wanted to hurt him too.

“How so, sweet girl?”

“I can never have you the way I want,” you answered through gritted teeth, moaning out when Satoru suddenly thrusted too deep, hitting your most sensitive spot that had you quivering in his hold. “You don’t—” you gasped, “You don’t understand what I feel, how you make me feel like I’m never good enough for you. That’s the reason why you don’t want anyone else knowing, right? ‘Cause I’m not good enough for you, never gonna be good—”

Satoru didn’t let you finish your words, shutting you up with his cock instead. The vehicle shook uncontrollably with your mating sessions, and Satoru silences you by pulling at your leg to press it on his chest instead.

The sudden switch in positions had your muscles tensing and stretching, adding only to both your pleasures with the new thrown in factor of slight pain. You felt Satoru kiss your neck down to your shoulders, scraping his canines until you were absolutely lost. You gave in, you gave up, head lolling back next to his loving lips that murmured sweet nothings.

“Not true, sweet girl,” he reminded you, flattening you on his cock and making you roll your hips while you slid up and down his pole sensually. Unlike the previous pace, the slow sensation of your pussy hugging his cock with your arousal letting him slide in easily allowed you to feel every part of him, almost mind-wrecking at how good he’s able to make you feel even after such a long time of having him already.

“You’re the sexiest and most intelligent woman I’ve ever met, the best, the absolute blessing of my life, and I just want to protect you, sweet girl. You’re too precious for me to lose,” Satoru kept mumbling over and over again.

You could no longer process his words functionally, not when he’s slamming you down his length like that and burying himself in you as if he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Satoru’s hands were still curious, appreciative and gentle as he runs his hands, dipping into all your curves and pressing into your most sensitive spots the way you liked it.

“You’re always so good for me so no, sweet girl, never gonna let you go, not when you’re so perfect for me,” Satoru eased your worries – temporarily – with his words, and you’d believe his lie, you’d fall into the same mistakes over and over again because you were just that weak and powerless when it came to him. “You’re made just for me, sweet girl, you’re the prettiest and your pussy is the prettiest – I worship you, I adore you. You’re so divine.”

You blamed it all on your ego.

He praised you so well, made you feel so good and always placed you on top of the world when he’s inside you like this. Even if you knew he’d knock you down the pedestal just hours later, you opened your doors for him all over again.

Satoru knew this too, because he rammed inside your walls and ruined everything that you held firm beliefs in, his large hands smacking your ass to urge you to bounce on him like you weren’t made for any other purpose than to be the woman he adored.

You lied to yourself – you always did – but did you care? So what if you couldn’t be the one he really loved? What did it all matter when you were the one he worshipped?

For the sake of the praise and the compliments, you’d let him fuck you and play with your heart over and over again. It was a toxic routine you’d never get tired of, and you no longer complained, forgetting about everything he’d done and every heartbreak he caused you because he was there, whispering into your ears how good you made him feel and how you were the only one made to take him, and you didn’t care. Not anymore – not when you were worshipped.

[weird-shit-i-shouldnt-like]

Heisenberg Has A Child

Reposting something that I wrote from AO3 on here. Enjoy!

When Karl Heisenberg, the strongest and most irresponsible Lord, walked into the weekly meeting with a small child, everyone did a double-take. The small child, who couldn’t have been older than three, was clinging to the metal hammer slung across the man’s shoulders, clinging on for dear life. The man looked unbothered as he sat himself down in his usual seat, the child giggling as the hammer floated carefully from his shoulder to the ground. The child then made their way to the pew, trying to pull themselves up with extreme effort. Heisenberg snorted as the child fell before he leaned forward and picked the kid up. He then settled himself on the bench, the kid making themself comfortable pushing their head in between the man’s torso and arm.

It was then that Heisenberg looked at the other Lords, who were watching the scene with mild shock and anger.  

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Heisenberg said as the child nuzzled their face into his side as if it was the most natural occurrence.

“Whose fucking kid is that,” Angie said, crowding around the child who just did a small wave towards the doll in response.

“You can not say ‘fuck’ in front of a child,” Lady Dimitrescu said, her shock quickly turning into anger at the thought of the man-thing raising a toddler.

“Fuck” the child said. Heisenberg just laughed, beaming at the child.

Lady Dimitrescu looked ready to kill, but Heisenberg just waved her off. “Don't worry about it Dimitrescu, “Fuck” has been her favorite word all week.”

Lady Dimitrescu looked as if she would pop at the thought of her brother not only raising a child but a little girl whose favorite word was fuck. Before she had time to speak, a quiet voice cut through the room.

“Whose kid is that?” Donna asked quietly. The Lords couldn’t remember the last time she had spoken without the use of Angie.

“Well,” Heisenberg said, completely ignoring the child who was now crawling into his lap. “I would say she was mine. Found her playing with the Lycans on the way back from last week’s meeting. She was on my property alone, therefore she’s my kid.”

Donna nodded at his words, seemingly unbothered about the whole situation. If you left your child alone when the Lycans came, you didn’t deserve to have children in the first place.

“I’ll be sending some things over for her by the end of the week.” She said softly, already imaging the different outfits and toys she would be making for the child.

Heisenberg, who was usually full of quick one-liners and retorts, seemed to be at a loss. He just smiled gratefully, nodding his head. He was going to demand the girl and her ugly-ass doll make some clothes for the kid anyway, so this just saved him the time.

The rest of the room seemed to relax, Moreau being his usual self, sat away from the others, and Angie sat in her mistress’ lap waiting for the fight that was sure to occur.

After a few seconds of quiet bliss, Dimitrescu stood her mouth agape and her eyes wide. It was the most flustered she had looked in a while, making Angie cackle wildly.

“Look, she’s gonna take his head off.” Angie stage whispered to Donna in excitement. The woman just pats the little doll’s head while Heisenberg chuckled.

“I don’t see how you can all act normally while th-this child is in the care of our foolish brother. It’s a miracle the girl has all her limbs attached after a week in that factory of his.” She said, her voice rising in anger.

“I don’t know why you’re so shocked she’s alive.” He chuckled, still very threatening despite the fact that the little girl was now tugging on strands of his long hair. “It wasn’t like she spent the week in your castle, that’s where we’d have to worry. I mean how would we put the girl back together again when her cousins would have eaten her.” He deadpans secretly, very amused at the red running into his sister’s face.

Mocking the family and the big bitches children always put him in a good mood.

“How dare you, my daughters would never do anything like that to a child, it's your lycans we need to worry about. You should just give the child to me, I would take-”

Heisenberg laughed out loud at that cutting the woman off.

“Oh, sit down super-size before you work yourself up into looking like a normal person.” He said, still laughing. “Here watch this.”

Heisenberg let out a loud whistle, and one of the Lycans came from the church’s rafters, jumping down to see what the man wanted.

Before Lady Dimitrescu could even unleash her claws, let alone process what was happening, the child was already scrambling off of Heisenberg’s lap. The Lycan was equally excited, acting like a big dog instead of the monstrous killer that it was.

The child then ran around the Lycan, both of them playing their own fucked up version of tag as Heisenberg looked on both proud and amused.

Dimitrescu looked at the scene with shock, sitting down to process what was going on. She opened her mouth once before closing it with a slight glare.

“I wasn’t lying when I said that I found her playing with the Lycans.” He said, lighting up a cigar.

He was silent for a moment, the only sounds in the room coming from his kid’s laughter and the footsteps of them both running around each other.

“She really is something special.”

[rocorambles]

Two Wrongs Equal a Right

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader

Prompt: Eavesdropping

Summary: Eavesdropping isn’t right, but maybe...just maybe sometimes the end justifies the means

A/N: This is for the Anylisum’s SFW collab. Masterlist can be found here. Enjoy!

You giggle, laying your head on Tsu’s shoulder as you catch your breath from the impromptu dance party happening in the dorm room led by no other than Mina. You love the boys, but this is nice, hanging out with just the girls, chatting about fashion and makeup, doing face masks and braiding hair, pretending you’re just normal high school girls and not heroes in training. The boys had sulked, pouting and complaining about why all of you couldn’t hang out together like you always do. But all of you had just smiled and cheekily waved as you locked the dorm room shut behind you.

They’ll be fine. You’re sure they’ll find something to bond over themselves and you laugh at the thought of them doing some impromptu sparring or shouting at each other over a video game.

Yes, they’ll be just fine doing something normal high school boys do. Definitely not quietly crowding around the other side of the dorm door, trying to eavesdrop on what all of you are saying and doing like they’re doing right now.

The boys of class 1-A aren’t nearly as subtle as they think they are accidentally banging foreheads and elbowing each other to try and press their ears against the vertical surface. But luckily for them the combination of the music and your voices drown out their scuffling and they eagerly listen in, curiosity keeping their attention rooted to the commotion on the other side of the barrier.

“That’s not fair. I want to dance too!”

“Shut up, Aoyama! They’re going to hear you.”

The hushed bickering continues as the boys continue to subtly bop their head to the music, trying to make out the snippets of conversation between the rhythmic beat and laughter. But they all freeze, even attempting to quiet down their breathing as the music finally stops.

Is the night over? Do they need to make a run for it before the door opens and they’re caught red handed?

Their questions are answered when after some scuffling and movement the girls resume talking and there’s a palpable sense of relief as the boys relax, leaning in once more to decipher what’s being said.

What girls night would be complete without boy talk? You all knew this topic was bound to come up in this safe all-female haven, but there’s still a tittering of nervous and shy giggles when Ashido brings up the topic with a mischievous grin plastered across her face.

It takes some prodding and some patience, but to no one’s surprise Uraraka is the first to speak up and you all smile knowingly when she begins to ramble on and on about Deku, how much she respects him, how observant he is, how hardworking he is…

“We get it. You like Deku! Seriously it would be shocking if you two didn’t eventually start dating.”

“Think about how cute that would be! A romantic hero couple fighting villains and saving the world together.”

Uraraka’s face is so red you think she might burst, but you hide a smile at the fact that there isn’t even a hint or sound of denial from her as she accepts the good-natured teasing. Unknown to all of you, Deku’s face matches Urarka’s extreme shade of red and the boys smile and nudge him playfully, waggling their eyebrows teasingly.

The light-hearted banter has broken the ice and Momo is the next one to open up, demurely looking at the ground and swiping a stray bang behind her ear as she quietly praises Todoroki for his amazing skills and how rapidly he’s learned and improved during his time at U.A. But what she isn’t expecting is the outpouring of support she herself receives from all the girls about how smart and resourceful she is and how quick on her feet she is. And Todoroki silently nods his head in affirmation of the deserved recognition she receives.

One by one everyone shares their thoughts on their male counterparts, but it’s Ashido who makes everyone burst into laughter once more when she practically screams her approval of Kaminari and Kirishima and how cool and manly they can be, imitating their signature moves as best as she can to everyone’s amusement.

However it doesn’t go unnoticed how Bakugo’s name isn’t brought up and it just seems right to bring him into the conversation if the other two musketeers are being discussed. There’s thoughtful pondering and the girls quiet down as they think of their blonde classmate.

“He’s smart and talented.”

“He’s pretty good looking.”

But there’s an almost unanimous vote that his temper is a little bit...scary. Almost.

The boys try their hardest to stifle their howls of laughter as Bakugo begins to deeply scowl, looking like he’s ready to storm away. But everyone shuts up, eyes going wide when your voice travels through the air.

“I actually think his attitude is kind of cute. He’s like an angry chihuahua. All bark, no bite.”

There’s silence as everyone on both sides of the door processes your words, even Bakugo looks uncharacteristically stunned. And then there’s chaos as the girls begin to loudly question your sanity and the boys hold back a raging Bakugo who’s seconds away from kicking down the door and confronting you.

Needless to say there is no more eavesdropping done that night as it takes the entire male population of 1-A to wrestle Bakugo away and safely back to his dorm room.

Cute? CUTE?

Bakugo can’t remember the last time anyone has called him that damned word, if anyone ever has. Not even his own mother has called him anything remotely as nauseatingly endearing as that recently. There’s nothing about him that’s cute. He’s not cute. He HATES anything cute. Yet as he’s barricaded in his room and forced to mull over your words in solitude, it’s not pure rage and indignation that fills him to his own surprise.

He’s not sure exactly what he’s feeling if he’s honest and that only pisses him off more. Anger is something he knows and holds close. But this...this strange, disgusting, fluttering feeling in his stomach? He doesn’t know what that is and he grumpily forces himself to sleep, to leave all these stupid thoughts and feelings behind him. Tomorrow will be just another day of class and you’ll just be another classmate he’s forced to tolerate as he focuses on becoming a hero.

Except tomorrow does come and you aren’t just another nobody like you were before.

Unlike before where he barely even noticed your presence and walked past you like you were nonexistent, too focused on perfecting his moves, he can’t stop being aware of you. He finds himself watching you without even meaning to, observing your movements, the use of your quirk…

“Kacchan, watch out!”

Turns out even when he’s entranced by you, Deku’s damn annoying voice is enough to drag him out of his funk and he narrowly misses the debris about to rain down on him.

“What’s up, Bakugo? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you distracted-”

“I’m not distracted!”

He is distracted and he can feel his short fuse nearing its limit with every uncharacteristic stumble and sloppy movement as he can’t tear his eyes from you. And when Aizawa-sensei awkwardly tells him to maybe consider sitting out a bit until his head is clear he loses it.

Under all the rage, common sense tells him this isn’t your fault, that he’s wrongly directing his ire at you. But Bakugo clings onto his temper, that fire inside of him that fuels most of his decisions as he storms towards you and shouts at you to spar with him.

He knows he’s being too hard on you, punching and kicking you harder than he even goes against Kirishima and his hardening quirk. And he even feels a pang of guilt when he sees you wince when his fist grazes you as you try to dodge. But you don’t tell him to stop, just looking at him with determined, focused eyes holding a shocking amount of trust that he won’t take it too far and actually harm you despite how his irritation is almost visible.

It’s the same look stupid Deku looks at him with, but he doesn’t feel that familiar buildup of anger rising inside of him. Instead he feels that same strange fluttering feeling deep inside of him and his heart is racing more than it should be for the amount he’s worked out today. It’s all so...confusing and to everyone’s shock, it’s Bakugo who abruptly ends your weird impromptu spar with a scoff, shoving his hands in his pocket as he saunters away, trademark scowl on his face.

That’s only the beginning of Bakugo’s strange behavior and everyone watches anxiously as the angry blonde borderline begins to bully you on a constant basis, practically hovering next to you from the moment you leave your dorm room to the minute you go to sleep at night, growling, shouting, and even just glaring at you. But no one steps in, curious about how things will play out when they see how unbothered you are by your new volatile shadow.

Bakugo doesn’t know what reaction he expected of you. Maybe a slight hint of fear? At least some respect? But he certainly wasn’t expecting how calmly you accept your new fate, how casually you interact with him.

He’s forced to silently blink in shock as his jaw rapidly works to chew the fried egg you’ve stuffed in his mouth when he angrily tells you to sit somewhere else, deciding he wants your seat despite the bounty of empty chairs surrounding the both of you in the cafeteria. (He ends up just grumpily sitting in the available spot next to you when he finally swallows, both of you quietly munching on your breakfast together.)

But although your exchanges start off fairly one-sided with Bakugo usually trying to incite some reaction from you, everyone watches in amusement when you begin to meet him halfway. The blonde is mouthing off at you about something or another during sparring exercises which has become a typical background noise to the class by now, but everyone, including Aizawa-sensei stops in their tracks when your voice interrupts Bakugo’s rant.

“Maybe you’d be able to perfect your new technique if you spent more time practicing and less time barking at me.”

There’s a playful smirk on your face as you utter those fighting words and Aizawa wonders if today is the day he’ll have to prevent Bakugo from committing a truly villainous event. But even his jaw drops when all Bakugo does is scoff at your statement, barking at you to follow him to both your preferred area of the training grounds to resume practicing together.

Both of you look almost...friendly, exchanging punches and kicks, no heat behind Bakugo’s snarky comments, a smile on your face when you give it to him right back verbally. The upperclassmen and the pro-hero faculty watch in amused fondness as overtime Bakugo’s glowering and barking lulls down to a muted calm grumpiness as he continues to trail beside you. He’s not too different than a tamed feral kitten (not that any of them would voice that thought aloud and risk being blasted to pieces).

And as time continues on, everyone gets used to the fact that the two of you seem joined at the hip. You’re just...always together in a strange amicable friendship? Partnership? Relationship? No one knows how to exactly describe it and maybe that’s what finally leads to you overhearing an interesting conversation one morning in the dorms.

You yawn as you make your way to the common room to see who else is up, but you pause before you turn the corner from your hallway when you hear Kirishima mention your name.

“So what’s going on between the two of you. Are you dating?”

You don’t even have to peek around the bend to know who he’s talking to and your face heats up, ears perking up in anxious curiosity as you wait for Bakugo’s response. Realistically, you know you shouldn’t expect much. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less when you wait for Bakugo to shut Kirishima’s well-meaning thought down with a rude “why would I go out with that nobody” or some similar derogatory comment aimed at the idea of dating you or anyone for that matter.

Yet there’s only silence and a secret smile spreads across your face when all Bakugo finally responds with is a quiet scoff and a “it’s none of your business”.

“That’s not a no!”

“Shut up!”

Your heart is pounding as hope blossoms inside of it and you slowly countdown from ten, taking deep breaths to calm yourself down, schooling your face into as neutral an expression as possible. When your excess giddy energy is under some semblance of control, you make your presence known, bidding good morning to both boys and teasingly ruffling Bakugo’s spiky hair in a more affectionate version of a noogie. And Kirishima is left with a gaping jaw as he watches Bakugo merely roll his eyes at your antics and grunt here and there in response to your rambling as the two of you make your way to the cafeteria for breakfast together.

[emeraldcoloured]

AU where The Big Bang Theory isn't low key sexist & scared of gay people where Sheldon Cooper is gay, let me elaborate

- So basically Sheldon spent MANY seasons being completely unbothered by girls & physicality. And I KNOW this is because of his neurodivergent nature, I am neurodivergent too and I relate to him on many levels. But!!! It would make so much sense to me if he came out as gay. Is this because of the fact that Jim Parsons is gay and my brain now associating to this thinks that Seldon could be gay too? I don't know! I was just thinking about this...

- Like for seasons he would be oblivious to why he isn't feeling anything towards girls.

- And since the show started at a time when queer people weren't talked about in public as much, but reached a time where they (we) now are, he could start learing about the LGBTQ+ community by just simply reading stuff on the internet or watching shows, or seeing gay couples in comic books.

- Maybe in one of his favourite TV shows a gay romance would unfold, and while he would still be against any form of human touch, he would realize that the scene is oddly comfortng to him.

- Or maybe Howard would make fun of a queer scene in a comic book, and Sheldon would et really defensive, and destroy his friend wit logic and mean words - but would be a little more defensive than usual.

- He would dream about these gay scenes a lot, and he would probably believe that he has simply gone insane for obsessing over such a stupid thing as TV/comic book romance.

- And then after driving everyone around him crazy be telling them that he has lost his mind, he would finally have a heart-to-heart with Penny who would be very understanding towards him and would tell him "Sweetheart, I don't think you've gone crazy, I think you are just gay, and there's nothing wrong with that."

- Eventually Sheldon would come out to Leonard who would be extremely supportive & tell him that he isn't uncomfortable. (Sheldon would obviously tell him in a very straightforward manner that he isn't interested in a short, lactose-intolerant man who's work is basically just a joke lmao - we all know his standards).

- I can totally imagine Leonard getting offended and saying that he would make an amazing gay lover - to which Sheldon would reply "don't be ridiculous"

- Howard and Raj would't find out instantly because Sheldon is afraid that they would make fun of him. Bernadette would find out through Penny after a while though, and she would tell Howard, who would start to feel bad remembering how he made fun of Sheldon in the past for seeming too gay, etc. Howard would tell Raj, and that is the point where they would go over to Sheldon's and tell him that they know, and it's ok, and they would apologize and promise not to tell anyone if he doesn't want that.

- Sheldon wouldn't really know what to say, but he would thank them for being discreet and understanding. (People at the university don't find out until he gets a boyfriend - and even then only a few select people, since when appearing together, him and his bf would act professional and distant, and only after a looooong long time would they finally be out and proud and hold hands in the cafeteria and stuff)

- He wouldn't find a boyfriend for a long time and wouldn't really find anyone attractive - he would probably think a few very specific fictional characters would be ideal to him if it came to finding a partner tho.

- Eventually Howard & Raj would find him a parter the way they originally did with Amy in the show, when they started to feel bad for Sheldon being alone, they registered him for a dating site without him knowing. -They get together eventually and the rest is history <33

- One more thing about the university, I could imagine Sheldon growing frustrated by comments he hears behind his back, speculating, etc., and one day he would flip out and shout to the entire cafeteria about how he has a boyfriend and he isn't araid of people finding out since he is still the amazing genius he always was. People would ofc be shocked by the sudden outburst, but everything would settle back into normal pretty soon.

- Everything in the show would be the same, (but without the sexism and homophobia, racism - y'know a person can dream). It's just that he wouldn't slowly grow comfortable with a relationship thanks to Amy, but thanks to man. There could've been so many cool storylines and emotional scenes regarding his coming out...

That's it, thanks for reading my rambling. Maybe I should stop binging that godforsaken show...

[boop-le-snoot]

marmalade taffy

Helmut Zemo smut & feels. Soft!Dom Zemo, non-superhero!AU, Zemo being the weird uncle of college!Maximoff twins. This was written on a whim so if someone signs up to beta-read, I will shower you with affection and reminders to drink water. The Reader is addressed as "you" and is not described - race/age/body type neutral. The language I used for Sokovian is actually Serbian. Word count 2,8k.

Fun fact: I have mild synesthesia. Emotions/feelings and some people have an assigned color (and sometimes smell) for me. That's how the name of the fic was born. This fic feels like the colors of marmalade and taffy, look them up. This fic is dedicated to my lovely @slothspaghettiwrites , the shining beacon in my misty, rocky beach. (You're a periwinkle for me, by the way. I thought you might ask.)

When you first see him all you do is raise an eyebrow. His sleek, well-maintained vintage car stands out almost grotesquely amongst the various sedans and mom vans on the campus and you can see the glint of his wristwatch even from afar. Wanda's and Pietro's sheepish smirk only makes the situation worse - the girl's attire obviously screams "liberal arts" and her twin brother doesn't seem to have anything better to wear than tracksuits.

The man behind the wheel is unfazed. He is calm and collected in that European way, not conceited, just waiting. For what? You don't know. His eyes trail over you but he doesn't smile, simply gives a tiny polite nod. If you hadn't had extensive conversations about cultural differences with Wanda, you'd say he was extremely rude.

Shy, quiet Wanda, who's eyes lit up seeing her favorite not-actually-uncle. In a surprising dash of energetic agility, she hopped right into the car, her numerous scarves a bright flash of saturation against the campus grayscale. You giggle and wave at the departing car, snorting when Wanda's hand reaches over to briefly honk the horn, causing the driver to swerve the tiniest bit, his eyes trained on you in the rearview mirror.

He comes and goes often. Almost always in a different perfectly restored vintage car, mostly with the same polite mask of bored contentment. You know he's royalty in his home country and can't help but wonder how frivolously the twins act around him - no, free. He gives all the appearance of a silent, strict man.

You're proven wrong rather quickly. Freshman year left behind you, you and Wanda decide to ditch the dorms for an apartment - she finds one rather quickly and it's just you two in it even though it is ridiculously huge and the rent amount she requests is equally ridiculously small. Not the one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you pretend nothing is out of the ordinary and buy yourself a new pair of shoes.

Helmut - Wanda finally formally had introduced you two - doesn't come by often, however the visits are always... Eventful. He's not at all what it seemed to be; in the quiet of your apartment, a witty, incredibly clever man resurfaces from under the stoic façade. The Slav in him easily lets him consume alarming quantities of alcohol together with Pietro, who opted to stay in the dorms with his idiotic football team, and - you couldn't believe your eyes at the time - dorkily dad-dance squat in the middle of your living room, unfazed by your and Wanda's cackling.

The way Helmut is absolutely unbothered by the audience and the laughter, pale face flushed from the wine and a little smirk stretching his thin lips into expression almost catlike. The maroon turtleneck stretches nicely across his chest, as thinly as your lip that you worry between your teeth.

Pietro raises an eyebrow. You shrug.

"Got something in your eye, no?" He teases playfully and you shrug again, taking another swig of your nice, European beer.

There are more gatherings, more parties and quite a few rides in his car, when the wind blows your hair in all directions possible and intermingles it with Wanda's as you giggle and squeal in the back seat. Helmut always indulges you two; the word 'no' simply does not exist in that man's vocabulary. He insists politely but firmly on a dinner with all three of them on your birthday and the gifts he brings make your eyes pop out and your face heat.

"A woman like you makes any sensible man want to shower you with the finest gifts," Helmut's voice is quiet and his accent is thick and somehow, it makes it all that harder to refuse. He smiles like usual - tiny and a little secretive, as he pecks your cheek, filling the air around you with the smell of his cologne. It makes your mouth water and your fingers clench helplessly around the half a dozen of silk paper-wrapped boxes.

The summer rolls in and it's hot and humid and finally you don't have to worry about waking up at the crack of dawn or classes or the annoying boys who can barely take a no for an answer. The invitation to Helmut's villa doesn't come as a surprise; Wanda had been riled up over it since early May and Pietro and his whole damn football team were equally as thrilled.

You pack flowy dresses, daisy dukes and swimsuits. The expensive jewelry and handbag Helmut had gifted you, too, since the villa is surrounded by a whole neighborhood meant solely for the rich and famous. Wanda is absolutely unbothered by her own bohemian chic and you quietly envy her; the longer you get to know her, the more you realise of how much actually she does not give a fuck about anything besides her paintings and sculptures.

It's admirable, really, because she is talented. And Helmut knows it, too, having had collected and kept every single work Wanda had made, showing it off in the various rooms of his two-story mansion. The abstract fits in well and is a great conversation topic for him and his equally important friends. There's an endless stream of them in the first days and Wanda isn't overtly happy, choosing to run away to laze around the pool with you more often than not.

Helmut's friends stop at the glass wall between the inner side of the house and the pool to stare at you two, too, causing something dark and tense flash across his features. There always had been a sort of tangy obscurity in him, you've noticed, but not nearly enough for you to grow concerned. It added the bittersweetness, the flavour and consistency to the modest man.

Although calling him modest might have been a mistake. The moment you can't shake off one of his friends after a polite chit-chat seems to never end, Wanda nowhere in sight, dread and unease digging their sharp, spindly fingers in the soft flesh behind your rib cage, Helmut is suddenly there, arm wrapped almost possessively around your waist.

"Draga mea, Wanda is looking for you. She says it's urgent," He stares the man down with the eyes of a vulture. "I believe we haven't been properly introduced," Helmut seems to not realize he's still clutching you in a grasp of steel as the man opposite you rumbles out his name, few syllables you'd forgotten seconds after he spoke them for the first time.

"Baron Helmut Zemo," the fingers brush and squeeze once, gently, over the valley of your waist before letting go. You miss the rest of their peacocking, walking away with a fight and fire inside of your hammering heart. Anxiety and longing and confusion mix and blend, combining into a cocktail that has you beelining for the bar like a woman parched.

The next day you're sleeping off the hangover, first in your bed and then by the pool - Wanda had run off into town for one thing or another, and knowing her, she'd be back home at the crack of dawn. It was blissful peace, the soothing balm for your troubled heart and your aching head.

"Hungover?" Helmut's voice was quiet and a little bit teasing. None of the Eastern Europeans had ever showed the signs of having any ill effects from the alcohol they drunk, unlike you.

You stretched, too blissed out to care about the skimpy strings and straps of your bikini, basking in the gentle morning sun. "Mmm, not anymore," a swim in the cold pool had done wonders.

Your soft pink float rocked as Helmut's footsteps quieted, giving way to a short splash and the sound of his breathing somewhere in your space. Just as you cracked open your eyes, he reached out a hand to steady himself next to you. "I wanted to apologize for the situation yesterday. That man was stepping out of line. He is not welcome in my home anymore."

You stare at him and then you snort. The blunt was he usually speaks is so easy, it flows oh so effortlessly. No mind games, just honesty. You want to pay him back in kind. "Don't worry, Helmut. I just had a bit too much to drink," that was the truth. Any other time and you wouldn't have hesitated to unapologetically steer clear of any creep. Heat and bubbly don't mix and that was your own mistake.

"No, printsesa," the man in front of you let loose some of the delicious darkness, eyes growing stormy, hand gently resting over yours. "Some men are fools, they are nothing but animals. You deserve to feel safe, especially in my home." His lips stretched into a smile, water dripping down his jaw and making tiny circles form in the azure of the pool.

"I can't argue with that," you replied, catching the stray liquid and following the trails it made with your eyes. His forehead, dripping down over his eyes, making Helmut blink the stray drops away until they landed on his lips, trickling down his chin.

You swallowed, opting to dip your toes into the cool pool water before you could make a fool of yourself. The water splashed towards him, making a mischievous grin grace his usually serious face, as me made a half-hearted attempt to splash back weakly, making the water sizzle on your sun-kissed skin. Never the one to back down from a challenge, you knitted your eyebrows in mock offense, eagerly letting the water wash over you as you abandoned the float in favour of creating waves with your whole body.

The temperature contrast was delicious and Helmut's laugh even more so as it echoed in between the high walls of the building surrounding the pool. The sun was nearly at its peak, shining over your head in a beacon of heat that almost matched the one inside of you, the one that had blossomed there months ago and finally grew into a steady smolder, shooting sparks whenever you were around the baron.

It was hot and wet, the same feeling chasing you two when you finally kissed. His hand firmly planted on the side of your neck, his nose softly brushing against the underside of your jaw, Helmut was in no rush to taste you, to savour every millimeter of your sun-kissed skin. The man left you with your fingertips trembling and heart scrambling for purchase somewhere in the deepest pits of your belly.

"What are you so hungry for, mmm?" Helmut's voice rumbled next to the shell of your ear; you could barely focus, skin singing underwater, where he held onto you like a lifeline. "You have hungry eyes, ljubavi, tell me what it is and I'll give it to you," your bodies pressed flush against each other, his eyelashes flittering against your cheek.

"You," the maximum capacity for your brain was one-syllable words and you used it sparingly, failing to suppress a gasp when Helmut's mouth latched around a particularly sensitive spot right under your jawline.

Teeth scraped over it before he soothed the sting with his tongue. "All the things in the world, I could give them to you. And yet..." He sounded almost disappointed. Perplexed, just as you were at the strange admission. "A woman like you would have men fighting for your attention yet you give it to me so freely," he murmured softly, capturing your lips in a slow, fluid kiss once more. "I will make sure you have everything you could ever want."

Helmut's touch grew bolder as he steered the two of you towards the shallow end of the pool. The taste of him was intoxicating, like the sweetest, most alluring poison you'd ever tasted: you knew that once you had one small bit, you'd be addicted, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. His words were clever and his mouth even more, making the short stumble upstairs last hours.

A wall, baroque tapestry, marked with the wetness of the pool water, where you allowed yourself to be pressed against as he leaned into you with the entirety of his broad frame, domineering the kiss effortlessly.

You panted as your back hit the soft, million-thread count, unmade sheets of the baron's bed, staring up into his eyes and finding your own reflection in his pupils, blown wide with lust. The tiny smirk was back but now his unexpressive face was marred by a gleem, accentuating his moist, puffy lips you'd licked into and bitten in a heated frenzy.

"Beautiful, printsesa," he stated with quiet firmness, leaning over into you to unclasp and toss away the upper part of the bikini. The bottoms followed suit, flung carelessly somewhere. His hands ran over your as it sang, every tiniest nerve hypersensitive, coming alive with a fervor borne of months of longing, complimented by the summer heat and cool waters.

"Helmut," your voice wavered, flowed on the syllables as his clever, clever mouth trailed hot down your chest, briefly submerging each nipple into the sear of it. Goosebumps rose over your exposed body, highlighting a trail for him, a trail he followed eagerly. Kisses were candy sweet and marshmallow soft.

Hot breath at the apex of your thighs had you mewling and arching into it, having abandoned all shame, and Helmut found it amusing. The petite chuckle made an appearance, his fingertips ghosting over the part of your lower lips; he was as amused by your impatience as he was enthralled by the youthfulness of the gesture. "Shh, ljubavi, I will make it feel better," his accent as thick as clover honey and just as saccharine.

The first movements were tentative, brief and so light, the demanding moan slipped out of your mouth along with a growl of frustration. You felt continuous chuckling, slight stubble rasping along the sides your thighs; you felt him pick up pace and steady his hot hands on your hips as you attempted to trash against the overwhelming stimulation your pussy was receiving.

His moans, loud and wet, drove you closer to the edge like a drunk drove a Ferrari; Helmut's skill was unparalleled but it lacked precision as he lost himself in the moment just as much as you.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm- I'm so close," you managed to grunt out before the crescendo hit, eyes rolling back into your skull as the influx of more, more, more hit every nerve ending in your body. You could do little more than rest your legs on his shoulders as the noble man, the quiet storm lapped up every drop of your release.

He made the inside of you weak.

In seconds, Helmut was back on top of you, grinding his arousal into you desperately, almost begging for it and all you could do was let your body respond, mimic your lover, clench around nothing just as you felt him twitch.

"Tell me you're mine," he demanded hooking one of your legs over his hip, eyes boring into yours with everything in them plain on display. It was a terrifying thing: as if your heart had suddenly grown legs, stood up and walked out into the bare, wide world, open for all to see. "Ti moa, skaži eto," his native tongue made his voice even more hoarse, you couldn't resist anymore.

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours," you chanted the words like a prayer, hoping he'd be merciful - and he is. No, there's only a hidden tenderness in his hands as he drives into your with increasing force that shakes you and makes your core quiver, igniting your flesh once again like the color red; it's messy and it's sloppy and you're barely aware of Helmut muttering something into the crook of your neck as you feel yourself clench down on him with a choked moan.

"Fuck," hearing him, the polite composed man, bite the end of his own orgasm into a curse made a wave of magenta hot rush travel through your body at lightning speed, his cock pulsating and coating you, claiming you from inside out so sweetly you couldn't resist a shallow gasp into his cheek, a gasp he mirrored as his own oversensitive flesh was once more assaulted by your combined lust.

The tide of his breathing was high; both of you spent yet still drunk on the newfound sense of togetherness. It was clear as a summer's day that in your arms laid a man who'd once lost something important and you - you were a someone who's never had anything of significance and perhaps, this time each other's arms would let you both keep whatever it was that you missed.

[mercy-burning]

Incredible

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Professor!Spencer sparks a connection with a spunky student. Category: FLUFF (of the spicy variety, so I’d rate it PG-13) Warnings: Adults with age gap (Reader is in her early 20s), language, flirting, making out, a brief mention of oral sex Word Count: 8.7k

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

Full Request: “...Okay so prof/student, and reader is so badass, has tattoos, flirt all the time, but like hate everybody except spencer, and he loves that she is so different, intriguing, dark and touchy? But like everyone in spencer life thinks that she’s using him, because of her grades, and also because they are “so different” but like they love each other, so she makes a big gesture and says fuck all of you, I love him and it’s the only thing that matters, and spencer is like heart eyes” —Anonymous

NOTE: My first go at Professor!Spencer! This is a favorite trope of mine, so I loved finally getting to delve into it myself. I hope I did it justice! Also, the original title for this was “Bad For You�� and it was supposed to be a little different, but it went in a different direction than I was intending. I still hope it’s okay though!

***

Truthfully, the first time she showed up in his classroom he had a feeling. It was a feeling he didn't get very often, therefore he wasn't sure what to make of it. All he knew was that when she sat down in the front row, all the way on the right, keeping to herself, he just felt that there was something special about her.

The obvious reasoning behind this newfound feeling was most likely the multiple tattoos that adorned her skin, and the flashy, attention-grabbing makeup that surrounded her eyes and lips, but as the semester progressed, Spencer started to realize her academic confidence was taking hold of most of his attention. Sure, she stood out in the crowd, completely different from anyone else who'd entered his classroom, and without a doubt one of the most stunning women he'd ever seen. But rather than scrolling through her phone while waiting for class to start each morning, she brought out a book to read or notes to study or something else to keep her busy. If anything else, yes, he admired her work ethic, at least what he could see of it.

And as time progressed, he'd come to see her succeeding more in his class than almost anyone else. Under normal circumstances, it would have been all good and plenty, but as it turned out, Y/N was anything but normal.

The first... incident happened not long after the first week of the semester, and a group of other girls were sitting next to Y/N. Class would start in close to five minutes, and students were still filing in while the group was having a rather... interesting conversation.

Spencer had had a feeling about what it was pertaining to, but his suspicions were confirmed the second he heard Y/N's voice, loud and clear.

"For the love of God, if you're gonna talk about him like he's a hot piece of ass right in front of him, you might as well shout it from the rooftops."

He looked up to see she hadn't lifted her head from the book she was reading as she said it, flipping a page half-way through her tangent and looking unbothered, despite the connotations of her words.

Rather than being upset at her, like he figured most girls in their situation would, they all stayed silent the rest of the time and barely looked anyone in the eye.

The moment Y/N realized she had them, Spencer noticed a small smirk on her face.

Class ended about forty minutes later, and just as the bell rang, he called out.

"Uh, Y/N, could I speak to you for a second?"

She looked up at him for a brief second before nodding, and even though mostly everyone in the classroom laid out a chorus of Oooohs, she still managed to look unbothered. In fact, he could have sworn he noticed her roll her eyes for just a split second.

She packed up her things and waited for everyone to leave. And as she approached him finally, Spencer felt a slight twist in his stomach at the way she did it, her expression somewhat worrisome despite her show of confidence earlier.

"Hey," she greeted plainly. Her hands clutched onto the strap of her bag so tightly her tattooed hands looked almost pale.

"Y/N," he greeted back. "I, uh... I'm not sure exactly what happened before class, but—"

"Yeah, I know. I shouldn't have said anything, it was probably rude embarrass them like that, but it was rude of them to talk about you like that right in front of you."

Spencer paused, not really sure how to respond other than to nod. "Well, uh... I... Thank you, I appreciate that."

"Besides, they're only auditing anyway, it's not like they actually care about the subject. I mean, c'mon, if you're gonna verbally daydream about sucking your professor's dick while he's standing right in front of you, you should at least have the decency to give a shit about what he's taking time out of his day to teach you."

Well... That certainly hasn't been what he was expecting. With eyes wide and hands starting to sweat, Spencer tried to think of how to respond, but came up short. But he had to say something, so he said the first thing that came to his mind.

"I appreciate your honesty."

Y/N smiled at him. It was a genuine smile that he hadn't seen, and he wished he could see it a thousand times over.

"Well, then, Sir, can I tell you something in all honesty?"

"Always."

She looked him up and down for a moment, his heart involuntarily swelling at the way her eyes raked over him with somewhat of a mischievous gleam. "You are a hot piece of ass. And I give a shit about what you're taking time out of your day to teach me. Thank you for that."

Without another word, she turned away and walked off, leaving him with a dropped jaw that slowly transformed into an amused smile.

Two days later, a Friday to be exact, Y/N showed up a few minutes early as she had every Friday prior. Spencer turned to give her a kind smile, but she didn't look up. She promptly sat down in her seat and got out a book, finding her page and leaning back in her seat.

He didn't want to interrupt, but still he offered a bright, "Good morning," and took the chance that she might offer him a greeting back.

She did glance up from her book, following it with a little smirk and a wink. And just as quickly as it came and went, she started reading again, almost as if the greeting had never happened.

"What are you reading?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Y/N didn't look up this time. But she said, "The Da Vinci Code."

"Oh," he responded, happy he'd even gotten an answer at all. "I've never heard of it."

This time she did look up. And she looked highly amused. "You've never heard of The Da Vinci Code? Not even the movie?"

Since they were looking at each other now, Spencer only shook his head.

"Seriously?" Y/N pressed, tilting her head to the side.

"Seriously. What's it about?"

She simply stared at him some more, and he figured it was still shock over his cluelessness when it came to The Da Vinci Code, but something about the look on her face said it was something else. Something more... devious.

Finally, she said, "I'm not gonna tell you." And then she went back to reading.

He should have left it at that, should have just moved on, but he couldn't help himself. So he pressed further. "Why not?"

Y/N looked up again, and then she closed the book. "Because if it's seriously taken you this long to even hear the name of the book, or the movie, then maybe it's just not your thing."

"Well, Y/N, truth be told, there's a lot in modern pop culture that I don't know about, so... That might not be true."

The two of them held gazes for a few seconds, just completely... captivated by each other in ways neither of them had experienced or could explain. He was in awe of her blunt and snarky presence, and she was utterly taken with his modern naivete.

When she repeated his words from the day before, "I appreciate your honesty," and smiled wickedly at him, he smiled back and almost fell to his knees.

Then students started to come into class and Y/N looked down at her book, which she seemed to have forgotten that she closed, because she actually blushed and fumbled getting it open quickly, obviously not as smooth as she'd always been.

The sight made Spencer's heart flutter.

Once class ended, he looked up to see Y/N standing at his desk and holding out her book. "Here. You should read it."

"Oh, I—I can find my own copy, I— You're reading it, I couldn't..."

Y/N huffed a laugh. "I've read it like five times already, I practically have the entire thing memorized. Just give it back when you're done."

He took the book with a smile. "Well, I have just a bit of paperwork to get done, but after that I'm good to go, so if you come by at the end of the day, I can give it to you then."

She blinked at him, and for a few moments neither of them said anything.

"Oh, I, uh... I read fast," is all Spencer said to explain himself.

Y/N nodded and glanced up at the clock above his head. "Oh. Ha. Right, of course you do. Um, I'll, uh... I'll come back, then. Professor."

The title falling from her lips would have ruined him completely had she stayed any longer, but again, she walked away without another word or glance, and it left him breathless.

There was a point, later on in the day when she came back to get her book, where he'd left her equally as breathless.

He was flipping through pages at light speed, and he didn't even notice her come in and sit down in the chair across from his desk. She sat there for a good two minutes, just watching him flipping pages and muttering silent words to himself, completely unaware of her presence. She'd seen him concentrating before, grading papers while the class was taking quizzes and such, but she'd never been able to study him for more than a few seconds at a time, and as she'd deduced before, it was extremely captivating.

He was extremely captivating. And she told him as much.

Kind of.

"Look at you go," she mused, leaning forward on his desk and resting her chin in her hands.

Spencer jumped, sliding the book so it hit her elbows, and she laughed.

"Y/N, you scared me!" he gasped, clutching at his chest with his right hand. "Ho—how long have you been there?"

"A few minutes. I would've stopped you but you looked like you were in the zooone." Her fingers wiggled and tapped across her cheeks as her face still rested in her palms. A huge smile played at her lips, and despite almost being scared to death, Spencer found himself growing warmer at her amused self.

"Yeah, I guess I was," he stated, bringing his hands to slide the book back to him. He looked down at it for a moment before smiling. "I was actually re-reading it for a third time. After the first I went back to look at the notes I took, and after going through them pretty thoroughly I applied some..."

As he rambled on about the process in which he read, Y/N found herself in an even deeper trance than before. She wished more than anything that she could have payed attention to his words, so she could have a discussion about her favorite book with him, but his passion and commitment to something he didn't even know about until earlier in the day, much less something she of all people just threw at him, was just so...

"Doctor Reid?" she interrupted, almost slipping out of her hands when he stopped and tilted his head, suddenly invested in what she had to say. "Can I stop you for a second?"

"Oh.. Was I going too far? I'm sorry, as you know I tend to ramble quite a bit sometimes, and I know it can be a bit much..."

"No, that's not it. I've... gotta be honest with you about something."

"Hmm?"

She leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table and searching his eyes for a moment before speaking again. "I didn't hear a single word you just said. And I promise it's not because I'm not interested in having this conversation about The Da Vinci Code, it's... something else."

"What's wrong?"

He seemed genuinely concerned, and equally as clueless, and it did things to her insides that she hadn't felt with anyone in... well, ever.

"What's wrong is that I hate everybody. Well, hate is a strong word, and I only mean pretty much everybody that goes to school here, anyway, and it's been that way ever since my Freshman year. And yet... Somehow, I end up with this class, and in almost no time at all you've managed to learn more about me than anyone I've ever met in my three years here."

"Well... I—I'm an educator, I... it's my job to somewhat know my students."

"No, it's your job to teach me. Any other professor would have chewed my ass for saying what I said the other day, and instead you... well... I don't really know what that was the other day, but I didn't get in trouble for it. And then today you actively asked me about what I was reading and genuinely took interest in something you'd never even heard of before... And then you..." She threw her hands in the air. "You fucking read my favorite book three whole times in one day and took notes on it... Seriously, who... Who are you?"

Spencer wasn't sure what to say. Especially when all he wanted to do in that moment was tell her to keep talking to him. He found that he loved when she talked. Even when she was trying to figure him out, to understand why she'd been completely flipped inside and out by a man that was at least 20 years older than her.

Especially considering that on paper, the two of them didn't look like a conventional pair. He was tall, lean, and structurally beautiful in all the right ways, where as she was closed off and beautifully stand-offish. His skin was clear of anything and hers was adorned with tens of tattoos. His clothes were always formal and neat, while hers consisted of only jeans and plain tees and long sleeves.

If anyone saw them together, it wouldn't have made sense.

They both knew this, and yet...

"I am... utterly enchanted by you," Spencer said without thinking. He didn't have to. it was the truth.

Y/N's shoulders slumped, as if some sort of weight had been lifted from them. She smirked a little. "And I am... strangely not indifferent to you."

"Uh... Thanks?"

She laughed, genuinely laughed, and stood up. "That's a compliment, Doctor. A very good compliment."

That mischievous smile of hers returned, and it made his stomach turn over again, his own smile never wavering, and conveying every sense of wonderment that it could.

"I know this might be... unprofessional... And we definitely shouldn't do anything on school property, but... Would you maybe want to, uh... go get coffee or something some time this weekend?" he asked, trying his hardest not to feel small around her big personality.

"What, to discuss The Da Vinci Code, or to go on a date?"

By the look on her face, it was obvious that she knew they couldn't call it a date. As long as they were professionally involved like this, an actual date could never be on the table. But it seemed to be in her... rather playful nature to suggest it anyway.

The thought made his heart flutter again. Still, he said simply with a knowing smile, "To discuss The Da Vinci Code."

She nodded, throwing her bag over her shoulder and getting ready to leave. "Fine. But just so you're aware, there won't be anything stopping me from zoning out and staring at your beautiful face from time to time."

With all the truth in the world, he said, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

***

His middle finger tapped incessantly on the cool, wood surface of the picnic table in the park. It wasn't ideal to meet this far away from the nearest parking lot, but the little spot was far enough away that he was positive no one would see him meeting his student for lunch—a lunch she offered to bring despite his insisting on paying for food. In the end, it was clear that Y/N was more stubborn than he was.

That excited him.

Speaking of excitement, the moment he spotted her walking into sight, his heart rate picked up. And at the powerful surge of butterflies that swarmed in his stomach, he mentally berated himself for even feeling that way.

This was not a date.

And just when he thought he had things under control, she finally reached the table, set down a brown paper bag, and flashed him the prettiest smile he'd ever seen. Her hair was up in a low ponytail with small strands of hair sticking out and blowing in the light breeze. She wore jeans and a tight lavender tee shirt that ended just above her navel, and it had the word "Wednesday" printed on it in black block letters. It wasn't Wednesday, which equally confused and amused him, though because he'd already found her personality amusing enough, what she wore didn't matter.

Except... the more he took her in the more it really did matter, because he noticed more tattoos, which where usually covered with long sleeves and jackets, most likely as requested by the university. But under the soft glow of the September sun, he could clearly see a collage of tattoos running up her left side, disappearing under her shirt. Where it ended, he wasn't sure, but he couldn't dwell on it for too long, or he was afraid the mental images would turn his brain to mush.

Obviously he couldn't do that.

"Hey'a, Professor," she said with a little wink as she took a seat across from him.

"P—please. Outside the classroom, just Spencer is fine."

She gave him a knowing smirk and simply stated, "Okay," though there was nothing simple about it. Her words had an effect on him, and she knew how to play them to her advantage.

But she was apparently in the mood to be nice today, at least for now. Because she peeled back her playful tone and revealed something more friendly. Simple. She tilted the bag towards him and nodded.

"I brought us some subs, as requested. I hope I got your order right."

"I'm sure it's fine. Thank you."

Attempting to keep his cool around her, Spencer remained quiet as they ate. He also avoided looking at her for too long, because every time he did catch her eye she was staring at him, obviously amused as she finished off her sandwich.

But of course, at some point one of them needed to speak. Right?

So he took a sip of water and cleared his throat. "It's uh... It's really nice out today, yeah?"

Y/N laughed, tilting her head to the side and giving him a look that almost sent him flying backwards. "If that was you attempting to break the ice, Spencer, it was completely adorable... If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were nervous."

"I—No, I'm not nervous, wh—why would you think that?"

"Because you can barely look me in the eye, and then the first thing you say to me when we're finished eating is about the weather..."

She raised her eyebrow then, giving him ample opportunity to explain. So he sighed, a rather embarrassed laugh escaping his lips. "I'm sorry, it's just... You're kind of intimidating."

She gave another laugh, one that made his heart soar higher every time he heard it. "Oh please! You're my hot professor, if anything you should be the intimidating one here."

It was his turn to laugh. "Y/N, believe me, if you really knew me, you'd know I'm probably one of the least intimidating people on the planet."

There was a long pause before she nodded, a soft smile forming on her lips. "Well, then, maybe I should get to know you..."

Despite the tugging in the back of his mind that said it was a bad idea to form this close of a relationship with one of his students, especially one who made him feel all warm and fiery inside, he found himself smiling back in agreement.

***

The sun was setting by the time Spencer walked her back to her car. And after dropping off their garbage at one of the public trash bins, he found the walk rather calming. The breeze picked up a bit, somewhat settling the fire in the pit of his stomach as she talked to him about The Da Vinci Code. And then there was the fact that they'd actually spent hours talking, so much so that they hadn't even realized how late it had gotten. Needless to say, it was extremely rare for Spencer to find that type of connection to someone, the type that allowed him to speak back and forth so easily and without regret or embarrassment.

He was thinking about how nice that was when they finally stopped. In front of a motorcycle.

"Is... Wait, this is yours?" he asked her, obviously shocked but more disappointed that he hadn't guessed sooner, and probably a little too turned on than was appropriate.

"Yep," Y/N said proudly, tapping the glinting black metal. "It was a high school graduation present from my mom. She and I used to build motorcycles when I was growing up, and when we moved to the city it got pushed to the backburner. But I love this bike, I ride it everywhere."

"That's... Wow. That's nice." It was really all he could think to say as he looked at the bike and nowhere else. Because if he looked at her, especially standing next to the bike, it was sure to spell out disaster.

"So, where'd you park?" Y/N asked, pulling him from his trance.

"O—Oh. Um, I didn't. I took the train."

He didn't fully realize the weight of his words until a devious smile played at her lips. "Oh? Well... Do you want a ride home?"

"No! Uh... No, I can... I can take the train, it's not a big deal. Th—thank you though."

Despite his better judgement, Spencer looked up at her, and before him was a beautiful young woman with a gleam in her eyes and a pout on her lips that would have destroyed any man in a matter of seconds. Her hand was outstretched, dangling a shiny silver helmet from her fingers. It glinted in the soft orange glow of the sunset, tempting him in the most evil way possible.

"You've been so good to me, Professor. Let me take you home."

At this point, he had no idea whether or not she meant her words to sound as seductive as he'd heard them. His brain screamed, No! but... In the end he knew she was only being nice. She had to be... But it's not safe! Do you know how many motorcycle accidents there are per year?

Before he could stop himself, he sighed and took the helmet from her hands. "A—Are you sure?"

All his reservations were worth it to see the beaming, toothy smile that she gave him right then. "Of course! Besides, who wants to ride the train home for the thousandth time when you could ride a kickass motorcycle instead?"

He put the helmet on, laughing along with her though deep inside he was more than a little terrified. He'd never been on a motorcycle before— it wasn't ever something he thought about. And now he was about to get on the back of one with his student, who had tattoos and spunk and just about everything he didn't. She was incredibly pretty and smart, and now he was learning that she was a total badass in somewhat of a traditional sense as well.

Y/N climbed onto the bike and nodded at him to get on behind her. Thankfully she wasn't able to see how incredibly awkward he felt getting on, scooting up to press himself to her back and figuring out where to rest his hands.

"A couple rules," she said, taking the key from her pocket. "One: I need to know where you live."

"O—Oh, right."

He told her and then she nodded. "Good. I know where that is. Rule two: Try not to adjust yourself too much, it could throw us off. But honestly you don't have to worry about that. As long as you hang on to me, you'll be just fine."

"O—Okay. How should I, um..."

With a small laugh, Y/N reached behind her and grabbed his arms, bringing them around to her front. His stomach flipped at her touch, even long after it was gone.

"Hang on as tight as you need to, got it?" she called to him

"Okay."

"Good. Now. Final rule. Have fun. Look around. Feel the wind in your hair."

"But I'm wearing a helmet..."

Y/N started the bike then, and he jumped, bringing himself closer and squeezing her tightly. His face nestled into her neck as best as he could without distracting her, though she didn't seem phased by it in the least.

"You know what I mean," she called out to him. "You ready, Professor?"

"I think so!" he called back, squeezing his eyes shut despite her final rule.

"Alright, we're off!"

The bike lurched forward a few seconds later, and it took everything Spencer had not to yelp. He wasn't sure how tightly he clung to Y/N but as long as they were still going, he figured it was okay.

It was colder suddenly, and he knew that they were moving at a decent speed. So he took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes, seeing buildings and trees go by in a flash. But the longer they rode around town, the easier he found it to breathe. While his grip around Y/N's front was still fairly tight, he'd definitely loosened up a little, and she could tell. His head was turning from side to side, looking at just about everything he could, and she couldn't see it, but he was smiling wide the whole time.

It was exhilarating. It was fun. And he couldn't remember the last time he had this much genuine fun, all worries completely erased from the mind and replaced with silent whoops of joy.

And then they stopped outside his apartment, and once the loud rumbling of the bike silenced, leaving his ears with a low thumping beat that raced alongside his heart, Spencer finally loosened his grip on Y/N completely. He got off the bike and whipped the helmet off, blood rushing through his veins like he'd just fallen out of an airplane.

He paced on the sidewalk, waiting for Y/N to put the bike in park and get off, and truthfully she was a little nervous. It was definitely weird giving your professor a ride home on your motorcycle, not to mention the added obvious sexual tension between you that shouldn't be there at all. She wondered if maybe she crossed a line, and she chewed her lip nervously as she stepped onto the sidewalk.

"Spencer?" she called out softly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm..." He stopped pacing and ran his hands through his hair, which was already pretty wild after being under the helmet— which was currently on the sidewalk.

Great, Y/N thought, I fucked up big time...

But he laughed, a wide smile adorning his pretty features as he looked at her. "I'm fantastic! Y/N, that was.. I can't believe I've never done that before! We weren't even going that fast, but it felt like we were flying!" He laughed then, the sound bringing a relieved smile to her face. And then he took a step closer to her and the relief quickly transformed into genuine joy and contentment.

"That was... incredible," Spencer breathed, his smile never faltering. "You... You're incredible."

She was going to thank him, but before she could say anything he strode to her in two steps and brought her face to his in a searing kiss.

Searing... That's exactly what it was, too. Y/N whimpered into his mouth at his intensity, the way his hands dwarfed the sides of her head and the way his lips moved feverishly against hers. She slipped her hands into his back pockets and brought him closer, her touch jolting him forward and walking them back over to the bike. They stumbled a bit before Y/N was able to gently lean against it.

Meanwhile Spencer couldn't contain himself. By now he was consumed in this fire that she'd set within him, burning down his every defense and sense of logic. He couldn't get enough of her, the way her hands kneaded his ass through his pockets, and how her tongue perfectly collided with his in every way. Each little moan and whimper she let out into his mouth spurred him forward until his fingers were threading into her hair, loosening her ponytail and no doubt gently tugging at her scalp.

If that bothered her, she didn't let on, her hunger matching his in every way.

Eventually, though, she felt herself leaning back too much, and she brought her hands out of his pockets to gently brace herself on the bike, steadying them.

But that didn't slow them down in the least. Truthfully, they weren't sure if they'd ever stop, drinking each other up right there as a few cars went by and the sun set behind them.

It wasn't until Spencer moved one of his hands down to her hip, searching for bare skin, fingers slowly sliding their way farther up her side, when a chorus of, "Ow ow owwww"s and whistles and hollers sounded behind them. He pulled away rather quickly, Y/N's teeth pulling at his bottom lip before he saw a truck full of teenagers whizzing past. They honked their horn and continued hollering until they rounded the corner, and by then the fire in his veins had significantly simmered.

He stepped away from her completely, combing through his hair and blinking, trying to collect his thoughts. But they came out as a jumbled mess. "I'm.. We shouldn't ha... I'm sorry... Y/N, that..."

"I—I know..." is all she said, still bracing herself on the bike.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, trying hard not to look at her. She was obviously rattled, though he thought she didn't mind. In fact, he was pretty sure by the way she was looking at him right then that she was ready to continue what they started, though she didn't do anything about it.

She did say, though, "It's okay. I'll, uh... See you Monday."

"Y—Yeah. Monday... Thanks f—for the ride."

His whole body was numb, fuzzy as she finally moved, walking over to her helmet and picking it up. She put it on and sat on the bike, putting the key in ignition before turning to him one last time and saying two words that sure enough ignited the fire again.

"Anytime, Spencer."

Long after she sped off around the corner, out of sight but most certainly not out of mind, he stood there on the sidewalk, his lips burning and his heart racing.

***

He wasn't sure what to expect on Monday, save for inevitable awkwardness between them, but he certainly wasn't expecting to see Y/N walk into the classroom early that morning with a box in her hands.

"Before you say anything, I just want to disclose that I'm willing to not make things weird," she announced as she made her way over to his desk. She set the box down, revealing six chocolate-frosted donuts with sprinkles. "You said you liked these the other day, so I brought some as a gift... You know, to... apologize."

"Oh, Y/N, you... You don't hav—"

"No. Please, just... Look, I didn't realize it at the time, because for a moment you weren't my professor, you were... You were my friend. And I know now that insisting to let me take you home was less than professional, and I'm sorry. I really was just trying to be nice, but I... I shouldn't have..."

"Y/N, I... kissed you... I'm the one who should apologize for being unprofessional. Really, I don't... I don't know what happened, I just..."

"Adrenaline... You... You were exhilarated and happy, and there was obvious chemistry between us that wouldn't have gotten that far if I hadn't asked you to hop on my bike, so... I'm sorry."

They both looked around, hoping it was still too early for anyone to show up, and then Spencer sighed, looking down at the donuts. "I shouldn't have asked you to lunch in the first place. I... I do want to have a connection with my students, but that's not... That wasn't my intention. I crossed a line I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry."

Y/N sighed, taking a donut from the box. "You know, we can't keep apologizing back and forth like this... So... Can we call it even? We're both sorry, we both fucked up, and we both promise to... act like it never happened?"

"Is... that what you want?" he asked softly, not entirely bringing his head up to look at her, but looking at her through his eyelashes.

His gaze sent a course of butterflies through her stomach, and she hated it. She hated that she was growing fond of her hot professor and that she couldn't stop thinking about his lips on hers and what they'd feel like roaming other places on her body— more specifically, over the tattoos on her skin that she always found him staring at from time to time. She hated that he was charming and pretty and smart, and she hated that he gave a shit about her.

That's why her throat burned like acid when she lied. "Yes. That's what I want."

And for the sake of professionalism, he was inclined to believe her, even though deep down his heart knew that she was lying to him. "Alright then. Thank you for the donuts."

She smiled, trying not to shake as she held her donut up in the air. "Anytime, Professor."

Then she took a bite and walked to her seat, the two of them eating in silence while they waited for class to start

***

The next two weeks went by seemingly slower and slower by the second. If it were a normal situation, Spencer and Y/N going back to their normal student-teacher routine would have been a good thing. And in a way, it most certainly was. However, they both felt plagued by their distance in a way that hadn't been so daunting in a long time.

Almost every day the girls behind Y/N would continue talking about their professor (quieter this time, though still loud enough that she could hear for herself). And every time they did, her thoughts inevitably dragged back to his lips on hers, soft and hard all at the same time, a feeling she knew she'd never be able to experience again. And then she'd glance up at him, seeing him concentrate as he graded papers or read a book, and her insides would burn once more, a reminder of everything she couldn't have.

Likewise, Spencer would be lecturing, glance over at Y/N by happenstance, and that low simmer returned to his veins, begging him to turn back now or re-enter the dark cloud of desire that threatened to ruin his career. He was thankfully able to recover quickly, though not without trying to quell the heat that flooded through his body at the remembrance of her kisses.

Each day was like a ticking time bomb. They waited until the semester was over— hopefully they wouldn't have to see each other and all could have been forgotten. But the days didn't want to fly. They wanted to ride on the back of a snail, just slugging along until it was almost painful to experience.

Even still, Spencer and Y/N went about their days until the semester was one week away from finishing.

It was Monday, class was just about to end, and then he called her over while everyone was chatting amongst themselves.

To say she was nervous was an understatement. Nonetheless, she made her way to his desk with as much normalcy as possible, and the closer she got to him, the warmer she got. It was exhausting, really.

"What's up?" she asked blankly.

"I just wanted to... congratulate you on your work. Truthfully, you've exceeded just about everyone else in terms of quiz and test scores, your work ethic is above average from what I've seen in most students... You're smart,, and you know the material really well. And... A colleague of mine and I are attending a seminar on profiling in New York, and I think you should come with. Present your final essay to the group."

Y/N blinked a few times. "Wait... You're serious?"

"Mhm. I've showed your work to my colleagues and they're all impressed by you. I'm... not exactly sure what your plans for your future are, but I really think you have something special here. And if... If it's not something that interests you, at least consider coming to the seminar anyway. Regardless, your work is exceptional and I think you should be proud of it. I... I know I am..."

The bell rang then, and everyone filtered out as Y/N stood there awkwardly, thinking everything over.

"I don't need an answer right away, but the seminar is on Saturday, so any time before then would be great. Think about it?"

She looked around to make sure no one was around before speaking, her throat tight. "You're not... just saying this because of... what we did? I mean, you really think I'm... I'm good enough to do this?"

Spencer's eyes softened, and against his better judgement, he reached a hand out to touch her shoulder. "I really do. I wasn't lying, you're exceptionally smart and you really could have a future in the FBI, not even as a profiler if you don't want to. But as always, it's your decision. All I'm asking is that you take some time to think about it. Is that okay?"

Y/N always knew that despite the attraction they had to each other, Spencer was a professional first, and he always did encourage her in her studies. She knew he saw something in her, something bright and worth teaching, worth growing, and in that moment, that's what his eyes conveyed. He truly believed in her, not because—or even in spite—of the forbidden moments and feelings they shared, but in addition to them. If anything their feelings were considered the addition here. Because while, yes, their bodies were buzzing at proximity to one another, their heads and their hearts were more connected in that moment than anything, with sheer understanding and care and belief for one another that extended past physical attraction.

Y/N smiled, nodding. "Okay. But I don't need to think about it. I'll go."

"Are you sure? You really don't have to say yes if you don't wa—"

"Yes. I'm sure. A—And thank you, Sp—ah, Professor. I... Thank you." She laughed a little, possibly the most flushed she'd ever been around him, and it made him smile

"Of course."

***

One thing they didn't really put into consideration was the fact that the semester was now over.

It was Saturday, the morning of the seminar, and Y/N was scheduled to fly with Spencer and his colleague, Doctor Tara Lewis, to New York City. Currently, Dr. Lewis was asleep, on the other side of the jet, and Y/N and Spencer were left awake, sitting across from each other and completely buzzing with energy.

You could see why this might have been a problem they hadn't considered.

Y/N wasn't technically his student anymore, and they'd became well aware of the fact after she showed up at the BAU, where she met the rest of Spencer's co-workers and friends. His family, from all she'd heard. And there was a conversation she couldn't help but overhear after they were soon set to leave.

"Now I know why you really brought her along." The voice belonged to Luke Alvez. She was sure of it— his voice was hard to forget. Especially when it was laced with suggestion.

"What do you mean?" Spencer asked.

As cute as his cluelessness was, Y/N couldn't help the bubbles of nerves that erupted  throughout her body like a torpedo shooting through water.

"You couldn't be more obvious if you tried, man. Sure, she's smart, and we all know it. But if what you've told us is true, she's also Mystery Motorcycle Mama."

"Wha—How do you know that?" Spencer exclaimed, obviously a little worried. Y/N couldn't say she blamed him.

"Oh, come on, a woman looking like that shows up, you expect me not to believe she's the one you made out with on the street? It wasn't hard to figure out."

The fact that he'd even told someone about that made her nerves rise. She'd wanted to talk to her mom about it for weeks but thought it might have caused trouble, too scared to even think about it.

Luke quelled some of the nervous tension though, when he said, "Don't worry about it, first of all, no one is going to say anything. Okay, and secondly, technically she's not your student anymore... What's stopping you?"

"W— She's a student, first of all, and... I don't know, we've finally gotten back to normal, I don't... I don't want to jeopardize that, especially now that we're going on this... trip together..."

This trip together... Y/N chewed the inside of her cheek, suddenly feeling a little warmer and a whole lot more anxious. It wasn't bad, though, more thoughtful. If anything she was interested to see how he'd react around her now that their professional relationship had somewhat come to a halt.

And now they were staring at each other on the jet. Y/N's fingers tapped gently against the table while Spencer's knee bounced rapidly. They were only twenty minutes out, and since they were on the jet it wouldn't be a long flight. But once again, time wouldn't fly. The only difference was, now there was nothing really standing in their path aside from the obvious taboo of it all. People always heard about teachers that got with former students, and it was always so scandalous.

And while it was obvious that they wouldn't be able to publicly say they were 'together', there was something like a barrier between them that had been shattered, or at least see-through in a way that it hadn't been before. It was a little easier to breathe, even, though they still somehow managed to take each others' breath away. It was always just a look, a little smile in the other person's direction, and all ability to function was gone.

The fact that they were still so captivated by each other, even through all the awkwardness and worry, was something that gave them hope. Hope that once this was all over and there was absolutely nothing stopping them from being together, they could still find their way back, and be just as connected to and enchanted by each other as they'd always been.

But for now, at least, they still had this seminar, something he'd only invited her to because of her academic achievements. And because of that, whatever happened between them had to be strictly professional

As if they hadn't already spent almost an entire semester repressing their feelings and only visiting each other in dreams.

***

The group spent the majority of the day getting a tour of the campus they were visiting. Their actual presentations wouldn't start until 7pm, where they'd speak in an auditorium that very much reminded Spencer of his own classroom.

After lunch, some more touring, and then dinner, the three of them found themselves back at their rooms, going over the material. Of course, Tara and Spencer were naturals since they'd both done a handful of teaching, but Y/N was nervous. She'd never given a big presentation like this before, even if it was only just reading sections of her essay that coincided with what Tara and Spencer were talking about.

"It's dumb," she said, slamming her papers on Tara's bed. "I shouldn't be this nervous about reading in front of people, especially since I'm such a goddamned delight in regular conversation."

Tara laughed. "You'll be great, I promise. You've read through it a million times, and even if you don't have it memorized, it'll be right there for you if you need it."

"I... I know." She started pacing a little, trying to even out her breathing. "But I... I've never done anything like this before and I... I don't want to mess up. I mean, Spencer believes in me, enough to have wanted me here, and I don't want... I don't want to let him down."

"You won't. Do... you know how I know?"

Y/N shook her head and sat down next to Tara, smoothing out the skirt she had on. She never wore skirts. She could have worn pants, but something pulled her to the short black fabric, and right now she didn't want to think about what that was. All she wanted to do was focus on calming her nerves.

"I know because... in the little amount of time that I've known you, I can tell how dedicated you are. How strong and smart you are. You know how to hold a room, and you know how to talk to people. And it helps that you know what you're talking about... You do know what you're talking about, right?"

Y/N laughed, genuinely laughed, and nodded.

"Then there you go. You'll be a natural."

The fact that one of Spencer's colleagues, whom he seemed to trust wholeheartedly, believed in her just as much, saw the same talent and dedication that he did, eased her troubled mind quite easily. She thought the worst was over, and to some degree it was.

She wasn't nervous anymore, worried that she'd disappoint Spencer, though when he knocked, came into her and Tara's room, and stopped, looking Y/N up and down with an enrapturement she hadn't seen on anyone's face before, her stomach dropped.

That look? It had been precisely why her mind begged her to put the skirt on instead of the pants.

The black velvet fabric was tight and ended mid-thigh, revealing half of a tattoo she had hidden— black and lavender flowers that matched the color of her blouse. It was a long-sleeve turtleneck that covered the tattoos on her arms and neck, but hugged her figure beautifully. Her hair was pinned up elegantly, loose strands framing the front of her face and big golden hoops dangling from her ears. Her face was completely void of the vivid makeup she always wore, replaced with a shiny, sheer lip gloss and simple eyeliner and mascara. The one thing that stood out, other than the tattoos visible on her thigh and her hands, was a golden eyebrow ring that glinted under the dim light of the hotel bedroom.

She was easily the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

And he had to stop himself from falling to his knees as he cleared his throat to talk. "Um, it's time to go."

The two of them were glad to have Tara as a buffer, because her "Alright, let's get going," while ushering them out the door made breathing a little easier.

So yes, Y/N certainly wasn't nervous about speaking in front of the crowd anymore. Rather, she was eager to see how focused Spencer would be during the presentation. It was hard enough for him to teach whenever she wore a particularly low-cut top in class—of course she noticed—so seeing her that closely, having her right there within his reach as they taught together, presented a jolt of excitement that gave her an extra boost of confidence.

Admittedly, though, the way she felt his eyes burn into her every cell made it extremely hard to concentrate on anything.

Nonetheless, Y/N, Spencer, and Tara eventually found themselves standing in front of maybe fifty people, students and administrators alike. Y/N swallowed hard, trying to push down any nerves that arose just then, but a soft hand at her lower back centered her.

"You're going to be great," Spencer whispered in her ear, his thumb gently stroking her back. She took a deep breath and nodded, feeling... thankful, in more ways than one.

The actual presentation itself was a breeze. With one encouraging nod from both Spencer and Tara, Y/N stood at one of the podiums and read off sections of her essay with clarity and confidence. Even though it was only a few paragraphs at a time, few and far in between when coupled with Spencer and Tara's detailed, more experienced presentations, Y/N was immensely proud of herself.

She felt like she belonged there. Not like in school, where everybody judged her because she was a loner. Here she didn't stand out, at least not in a jarring or negative way.

And Spencer could see all of it. As she stood there, speaking to the crowd, he took in her confidence, basking in it like it was the sun. Like she was the sun.

They took questions for a few minutes, and Y/N was obviously a little rattled, not expecting to get any questions of her own. But she answered each one with grace, practically beaming with pride and accomplishment.

***

Under the dim streetlights and with glittering snow behind her, she looked absolutely angelic.

Y/N and Spencer offered to wait outside while Tar talked with some of the administrators about coming back sometime in the Spring. But chances are, Y/N wouldn't be there, so Spencer wasn't even sure that he cared to come back. At least not right then, watching her pace around happily in the snow, her smile as wide and as radiant as he'd ever seen it.

"That was... I can't believe I did that!" She was in complete awe, and it reminded him of the day he hopped off her motorcycle and went on a similar tangent. The feeling of a rush, of pure, unadulterated joy... "I mean, I can because you believed in me, and I know it's probably kind of dumb to be this excited about a presentation, but like... I did it! I was..."

"You were a natural," Spencer mused, feeling his whole body warm at the sight of her smiling at him.

She stepped closer and closer, nodding. "I felt incredible."

"You are incredible..."

Once again they found themselves on the sidewalk, completely unbothered and so taken with each other it was hard to breathe.

And then she stepped forward and kissed him, much like he'd kissed her. Their lips melded like they'd never left in the first place, and that familiarity between them added fuel to an already significant flame.

Y/N threaded her fingers through his hair and reveled in his reciprocation as his tongue gently opened her mouth further. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her as tightly to him as he possibly could. And when she melted into him, giving herself over to him completely, he finally felt peace. Right then there was no worry, no awkwardness or burning tension that ate at him until he wasn't sure he could contain himself anymore... He simply just... was. He provided her with warmth and comfort, and in turn she provided him with a feeling of excitement... Of adventure and genuine fun and joy.

He never wanted to let her go.

While there wasn't a truck full of teenagers to break them out of their spell with whooping and hollering, there was a one Doctor Tara Lewis who cleared her throat.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, highly amused. Meanwhile Spencer and Y/N split apart, refusing to look at her. "You ready to go?"

"Uh huh," Y/N said, at the same time Spencer said, "Yep."

Tara laughed, patting both of them on the shoulder as she walked in front of them.

Normally, they would have stayed apart from now on, but the only person they knew who could expose them was already there, and she clearly had no intentions of saying anything to hurt them.

So, Spencer reached out for Y/N's tattooed hand, and she took it gladly, staying close to him as they walked the two blocks to their hotel.

PERMANENT TAGLIST:  @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @g0lden-cth @emilyprentisslittlewhore 

TAGS NOT WORKING: @takeyourleap-of-faith

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get to it!