#like the last five fucking times in a row

[rjalker]

K from now on when I upload pictures to the web archve I'm also gonna include a text file that's just the image description for copying and pasting so people in the future don't have to write their own.

here's a conglomeration of several ableist posts I've seen over the last week, in comic form.

archived here so you can download it in HD if you really want.

"https://archive.org/details/ableist-neurodivergent-people-one-panel-comic"

[ID: A black and white, stick figure drawing showing a person standing at the top of a set of stairs, shouting:

"Come on, just because I'm able-bodied doesn't mean I'm not crippled! I have ADHD and I'm autistic!!! That's the same thing, right? We all face the same ableism!

If you tell me calling myself crippled is ableist and inappropriate, you're the real ableists, and also you clearly don't do any real activist work if all you do is police people's language!!!

Don't you know there are real fights you could be fighting?

Making people stop saying slurs never made the world a better place!!!

Ableist language does not need to be challenged or fought, and if you think it does well you're just chronically online and don't know what real oppression looks like!!!"

At the bottom of the stairs, to show that they are physically incapable of climbing the stairs the way the able-bodied person was, are three physically disabled people: one standing, one standing with a cane, and one in a wheelchair.

Above the three's heads is a shared speech bubble with "…" in it to show they can't even think of anything to say in response.

In the bottom left corner of the image is smaller text that reads, "January 25th 2023. Public Domain".

End ID.]

also. there has to be a name for the particular brand of bigotry that goes, "Calling out easy to fix instances of bigotry online means you don't care about or fight back against real bigotry", right?

Because I've also seen it in regards to racism, misogyny, antisemitism, transmisia, exorsexism, you fucking name it...

If you can't put in the effort to do the smallest, most easiest thing, how exactly are we supposed to expect you to do the more difficult things?

If you won't even drop a single word from your vocabulary that you probably weren't even using that often to begin with, how can we expect you to do anything more difficult than the literal bare minimum?

[zenmai--jikake--no--komoriuta]

hrlfnsdfcndsbl I don't want to go to work today..... "enjoy your quiet week" they said on christmas eve, sike, it's been really fucking busy ever since and the store's a complete mess and we're out of everything and there's no time to restock or do dishes or even have a fucking drink of water............. I stayed back half an hour on boxing day because we were getting overrun during shift handover, came in an hour early on tuesday to cover a sick teammate, lost my fucking day off and had to work the evening shift last night because of another sick teammate (in the 3 customer-facing hours I had I think I got a combined total of <5 minutes to do anything except serve a literally endless stream of people), back in again tonight with a worse team on and then again tomorrow morning, meanwhile the rest of out staff have all gotten to have at least one day off in all of this and I'm the only dumbass stuck working it all... and then I have one day of rest on sunday and then back in again new years' day and the next...

[youredyingthatsallthereis]

okay i had to take medication that made me excessively sleepy last night so i didnt get to do any embroidery OR post my other lil au concept but now that i actually got more than 4-5 hours of sleep in a night i can do both today!

[coconutdays]

seat taker

s. you have a crush on the smartest and sexiest guy in your lit class who happens to ride a motorcycle with spooky season around the corner. what ever might happen?

w.c. 10.6k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut! (its more so toward the end so u can read until it cuts off to that lol if u want)

a/n: based on this idea I posted about biker!geto from uni lol, I didn't really proofread so ill get to that sometime later after I shower and eat lol just wanted to get this out

"go sit next to him then."

you take a nervous gulp from your water bottle as you walk to your lit class. the effort was a bit clumsy considering you were using one hand to open and close it while the other held your phone, your friend on the other line.

"never, would I ever have the balls to do that. i may be confident but I am not as delusional as the caveman gym bro that took your seat so he could sit next to me in anthropology."

she laughs on the other end, a hysterical giggle at your backtalk.

"well then he's just gonna keep thinking you're creepy cause you stare."

you let out a haughty scoff, "as if I acknowledge his existence." a finger of yours goes up in the air, as if she could see you being a smartass about your discretion, "I never look at him. I only get in a glance or two when he asks the professor a question or when he raises his hand to answer a question."

"you're insane."

"unfixable." you sigh prettily and proudly before giving a more serious response to her first suggestion, "and it would be really awkward if I sat next to him either way. the class is packed and everyone has their assigned unassigned seats, the white haired guy that always sits next to him would probably push me off his seat if he ever saw me there."

"that is true. some girl did that to me in stats and I was like ??? have you not been sitting somewhere else this entire semester? pissed me off that I had to sit somewhere else and take someone's seat."

you're about five seconds away from your lecture hall door when you add to her complaint.

"right. and then that person looks at you funny cause you took their seat and then argh–its just a fucking domino effect." you turn around and take a step into the class, the sight before you bringing emphasis to the last words that you meant to finish off with, "fuck seat takers..."

"huh. what was that last part?"

your classroom is full. every one of the 200 seats are seemingly just taken. it's a sight you're not used to when you walk into class. normally, when you decide to go in, about half of the class is there, and you were starting to curse the fact that you gave yourself the luxury to finish the last of your reading for next week ahead of time. those ten minutes didn't seem like they'd make a difference, they sure do now...

with white haired guy sitting in YOUR seat.

its across the lecture hall from where he normally sits, next to Geto, who just so conveniently has an empty seat next to him, the only empty seat.

poker face, poker face, poker face.

it's all you repeat to yourself as you walk up the carpet steps to the row where Geto is sitting and try to continue the conversation with your friend.

there's no white noise, some people are typing away at their computers and others are chatting with the person next to them or near them, so it gives you room to explain yourself a little without being heard.

"everybody's already in class, and white haired guy is in my seat dude, and guess which seat isn't fucking taken." there's an edge to your voice, however it lays undetectable with your calm face.

"WAITTTTTTTT. AHAHA–"

you can feel your body heating up in nerves when you start walking between Geto's row, to the seat next to him.

"stop f/n. I am on the verge of committing a serious crime. I'm going to actually end up in handcuffs by the end of today. the–"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA." She keeps laughing at you as you force yourself to not care that you're pulling out and sinking into the chair next to Geto. If he acknowledged you, you wouldn't have known, his mere presence something you deleted from your mind in order to process the current events before you right now.

a high pitched and drawn out HA is the last of her laughs you hear before she speaks again, "I basically manifested this for you. you should be thanking me."

"fuck your manifesting. I'm not excited for this." you don't care to filter your voice into a whisper, it stays at its normal tone even though you're next to Geto because he didn't even know what the conversation was about anyway.

you balance your phone between your shoulder and cheek while you begin to take out your iPad and journal for class.

"ask him for a ride on his motorcycle after heh." she pokes at you and you feel like you can hear her poking out her tongue in malevolence.

even though you're slightly grumpy at your predicament, you manage to make a comment accompanied by a sigh, "with the way midterms are looking, id need a different kind of ride."

"you can ask him for that too~"

"shut up, you menace."

"hehe," she strikes evilly, "well, I'll leave you to your class with your boyfriend."

"no, stop, the class doesn't even–"

"bye!"

and she hung up on you, leaving you to flip mindlessly through your notebook while you try to ignore the presence of the hot hot hot piece of sexiness next to you.

suguru geto has been at the forefront of your mind for weeks now. you had always slightly admired him from afar, considering your actual seat in the lecture hall was across the room from him. he was undeniably attractive, with his long black always tied up in a bun and clean outfits. and his intelligence, he was always one to garner thoughtful debates in class in response to the professors teachings. his calmness towards everything was enough to make you swoon at the thought go him being that patient with you too.

and his stupid motorcycle, the thing that made it all click for you.

you had been walking to the library after class to meet with your classmate to work on an anthropology presentation when you caught a glimpse–stare–of him getting onto a motorcycle and pulling a helmet over his head before he quickly rode off to wherever he was going. for some reason, it really got your gears grinding and wishing you could just jump this man and do some truly desperate things.

he was all you thought about after. none of the other cute guys in your classes could hold a candle to the being that is suguru geto, renouncing you into a pining mess that looked forward to every lit class–even though you pretended you didn't care for him.

god, what even was the point in all of this if you weren't ever going to make a move? if he just SPOKE to you first maybe you could get some rizz in–

"you have pretty handwriting."

"I–what?"

you perk up like a deer in headlights at the sudden voice of Geto, wondering if you're the one he's speaking to.

and he is, he's spinning a pen between his fingers while he looks at you, slightly gesturing towards the journal in your hands, your cursive covering the pages of it.

"oh!" you're still caught off guard, doe eyes in the face of his sudden and scary, to you, comment, "thank you. can't even read it sometimes though, it's like trying to understand another language when I have to study what I write after."

he smiles slightly at your comment, a whisp of his dark hair swaying near his right eye, "I think it'd be cool to try and translate."

you resist the urge to curl into a ball and wish he would just look away from you, but you persevere, holding out your journal to him.

"be my guest." you say without hesitance

he sets his pen aside when he grabs it, immediately flipping through the pages and starting to skim through your notes, his eyes moving side to side as he does. you get a good view of him while he goes about trying to decipher your writings. he's wearing a black shirt today, it's not exactly tight, but not loose either. it gives you the perfect view of his arms bulging a bit, his biceps' size is an eye sore for you.

he's wearing these black stud earrings too, only visible because of the bun that he keeps his long hair. you wish you could see how long his hair actually was sometimes, he had never worn it down to class.

"looks like I'm more versed in your cursive than you are." he glances at you, a faint smile on his lips

your eyebrows raise a little and your eyes widen, "what? you can read it?"

he closes the journal and slides it to your spot on the very long lecture table. geto then leans over to your side a bit, close to your ear, and starts to point across the room to his white haired friend.

"see that idiot with the pitch black glasses?"

the question sends chills down your spine, the proximity making your heart race.

"y-yeah."

"silver spoon baby. learned cursive when he was four and it's basically incomprehensible unless you've been sharing notes with him since high school."

a laugh flows out of your lips, etching a smile on your face. your shoulder slightly bumps into his chest from it before you turn your head to directly face his.

"and I'm taking it that you're well versed in his cursive then too?"

he looks at you with a slight dreaminess in his eyes, his height still domineering over you even if you were both seated next to each other.

"have to be, would have failed lots of class projects if I didn't"

you take the opportunity to poke about the whereabouts of his friend in your seat now that he's been mentioned.

"and why's he sitting over there then?" you blink up at him for a response

at this, geto sinks back to his original position on his chair, face a million miles away from yours now as he goes back to fiddling with his pen.

"he's...trying to flirt with the girl he's talking to right now." he shakes his head a little, although there isn't much of a disappointed look in his face, it's more entertained. he was probably used to his friend's antics by now.

"ah. at least it looks like she's into it." you dispense the weight of your head onto the palm of your hand as you look at his friend with him, "could not have been me."

"what?"

you don't turn to look at him as you respond, "this Andrew Tate gym bro took my friend's seat to sit next to me in my anthropology class the other day. tried speaking to me like those guys who swear all you need is a computer to become a millionaire. worst ninety minutes of my life."

you hear a puff of a laugh from geto

"I can guarantee you Gojo has better skills than that. he's probably talking about his Halloween party for this weekend."

you flip your head to look at him suddenly, "he's that guy?"

every big party that everyone talked about on campus was always held by Gojo. they had numerous amounts of beers and liquor bottles. always the best music, the best hookup stories, the best snacks, everything. you hadn't put a face to the name until now, although it should've clicked when you found out Geto's name. his was always being paired with Gojo, as some would put it, two pretty best friends.

geto could see the gears turning in your head and his eyes creased a little at your realization in a smile, "yea, that's the guy."

you're a bit taken aback by his confirmation and turn to take another look at gojo before looking back at geto.

amused, geto speaks again, "by all means, go for it, he's–"

you quickly shake your head and stretch out both your hands to frantically do the same, "no, god, no. i'm not into him. it's just I didn't know that was him. I always hear good things about his parties."

geto nods, "he has an affinity for making sure everyone has a good time. you ever been to one?"

you shake your head, "never, haven't had the chance to or been invited."

"you should go to the Halloween one." geto suggests, gesturing his pen in your direction before going back to spinning it around his fingers, "you know where it is?"

you shake your head again, now completely facing his direction, the attention you were giving to his friend gone and now placed on him.

geto gestures towards your journal and reaches for it, "may I?"

you nod, curious at what he was going to do.

he flips the journal and opens the very last page, guaranteed to be blank and begins writing something on it.

when he pushes it back to your side of the table, you can see what he's written now, an address.

"that's where the frat house is."

you wiggle your eyebrows a little at him, "you in the frat too?"

geto laughs fully this time and shakes his head, "no. I have my own apartment. that's just gojo's thing."

you acknowledge him and look over the address written on your journal, "I'll think about it. have to wear my costume somewhere right?"

"what is it?" he tilts his head curiously, genuine interest in what you would choose to dress up as.

you try to bite back the smile at the knowledge you have of your costume and choose to leave it up in the air for him, tapping your journal on his shoulder.

"now that is something for you to find out if you see me at the party."

just how it's entailed in mean girls, you dress up slutty for gojo's halloween party. you wore a playboy bunny costume, close to one of the sluttier things you can wear, but it's rare recently for girls to wear as opposed to the trendy fairy and angel costumes lately.

although it isn't exactly halloween yet, its the first out of the two parties gojo was holding in honor of the holiday. next weekend there would be another one on the actual day, but you didn't know if you'd go that one yet, you were going to see what this one was all about though.

you brought your friend with you, hooking her up with the address geto provided you because she had been aching to go to one of gojo's parties too.

your eyes light up when you see geto's sleek black motorcycle parked near the garage as the both of you walk to the door.

"god, there's so many people inside." your friend all but screeches in excitement and you would too if it weren't for the nerves of impending doom that geto, your everything crush and classmate, was going to see you wearing this.

the chills that come from the thought make you rub your shoulders for heat as you walk inside and the blaring of the music becomes even more booming now that it isn't being shielded by the walls of the house.

"where do you think the drinks are?" you try to speak up, a trace of small worry at bumping into geto laced in your voice.

she raises her head up and looks around to see where she could spot the alcohol until she starts dragging you by the hand, "the kitchen is over here I think!"

she pushes the both of you past clusters of people, paving the way for her desire for vodka and it makes you bump into someone a bit roughly.

you try to voice out your apology quickly as she keeps dragging you along, looking back at who you just bumped into.

it's geto.

his eyes show mild surprise, not one for entirely showing his emotions, they're widened a bit and he looks a bit taken aback while his eyes rake up and down your body–still being dragged away. he's not wearing a costume, sporting a white t-shirt and jeans instead.

the words of apology you were going to utter fall off as you make eye contact and realize it was him you bumped into, he who just got an obvious look at your costume.

you're glad the speed of your friend makes the interaction short lived due to her lightning speed in suddenly bringing you to the kitchen, which is lined with beer and liquor of all kinds, every space of the spacious kitchen taken up by alcohol.

you hurriedly reach to serve yourself a cup of strawberry vodka, hoping that the first sip and those after might make your nerves dilute. when you turn around to talk to your friend, who's probably already served herself straight flavorless vodka, she's being flirted with by her anthropology club crush. she gives you a quick glance, a combination of 'oh my god oh my god' and 'sorry' being communicated to you.

you smile at her knowingly and point towards where everyone was dancing and talking, marking that that's where you would be while you left her to go as far as she wanted with the boy in front of her.

you're halfway through the crowd to make it to the patio when a voice is suddenly in your ear from behind.

"is it as cool as people say?"

you jump at the intrusion and cradle the cup of vodka to your chest and look at who just spoke to you.

it's geto, exactly behind you, his large frame towering over your body and leaned over so you could hear him.

you're stopped in your tracks and turn around to face him now, trying hard not to feel intimated by your basically half naked right in front of him.

"yeah!" you nod

geto turns his head a little from his spot at least a foot above you and leans down again, at level heads with you

"sorry, say that again." he looks at you earnestly, wanting to be able to properly hear your answer with the loud music echoing into your ears and his.

"I said yeah! I didn't know parties could be this packed!" you say, taking a nervous sip from your cup as you look at him

"what happened to your friend?" geto keeps his posture the way it is to keep talking to you

"the guy she likes started talking to her!" you exclaim past the loud blare of music.

"ah." he nods, taking a quick glance to the kitchen and spotting your friend smiling eagerly at the guy in a jason costume in front of her. "what are you going to do then?"

you blink cluelessly, haven't actually thought about until he asked you.

"dance!" you look around the room so he could look with you. bodies pressed against each other and bodies dancing by themselves all across the room.

geto smiles and straightens himself before reaching a hand out to you and gives you a look of 'wanna take it?'

you can't help the bashful smile that makes its way to your face as you hesitantly take his hand. he softly brings you closer to him, not as close as the other horny bodies in the room, but it's a little intimate and makes you feel intoxicated. he puts his other hand high on your waist, making sure to avoid the sluttiness beneath that line of your torso considering your outfit, and he starts to sway the both of you to the music. he holds you to himself with you hook an arm over his shoulder and use the other hand to hold your drink, singing along to the music with a toothy smile.

it was playful, the interaction with him, a fun setting between the both of you. the combination of that and the large heap of strawberry vodka you served yourself and managed to finish by the second song with him were the reason for your increasing comfortable nature with him. you were laughing and laying your head on his chest frequently through your endless bursts of energy and gasping breaths for relief.

he was smiling throughout the entirety of it, never getting too comfortable though, and keeping his hands where they had originally been.

"I just wanna be one of your girls tonight!" you sing at the top of your lungs.

geto lets go of one of the hands encircling you and instead reaches for one of the hands splayed across his shoulder and chest, caressing it with a thumb.

you tug at him a little with your other hand and he leans down to hear what you're about to say.

"wanna get drinks?" you ask, craving a sweet hard seltzer instead of another pour of vodka.

"you want something?" geto asks you back

"are there any strawberry drinks?" you blink up at him

geto looks like he's thinking for a second, trying to remember the usual drinks his best friend caters, before he nods, "yeah there are. want me to get you one?"

you nod eagerly at him and follow him to kitchen. he had taken a hold of your hand when he noticed you were going to accompany him, he didn't want you to struggle getting through all those people.

he had been bent over to look through a cooler on the floor before he stood up and held out a strawberry daiquiri to you, "here."

"thank you." you nod before you jump and sit on the countertop so you could rest and drink

you notice geto doesn't have a drink in his hand when he leans against the kitchen island in front of you.

"you didn't want a drink?"

geto shakes his head calmly, "gotta drive back."

"oh." you remember his motorcycle from earlier near the garage and strike another question so he doesn't know that you know he has a motorcycle. incredible logic.

"what kinda car do you have?"

"ah, not a car, a motorcycle." he smiles slightly, the answer was humble

"oh~"you drag out–as if it was new information to you–and continue drinking from your bottle.

"you have a ride back home though?" geto asks, crossing his arms over his chest so he could be more comfortable while listening to you.

"uhh," you reach for your phone and see a message from your friend asking if it was okay for her to go to McDonalds with her crush, "well I was going to uber with my friend, but she just had a change of plans."

"I can take you home." he offers genuinely, tilting his head in await for your answer.

"In your motorcycle?!" you blurt out

he starts laughing heartily at your answer and smirks at you when he speaks again, "never been on one?"

"no." you shake your head, a bit intimidated, "what if I fall. im literally naked im gonna get cut up by the road."

geto smiles at you, "that's a fair concern, but I'll give you my helmet and let you borrow my jacket, it's big, it should cover you up a bit no?"

although the alcohol leaves your brain empty, you think it over which involved nothing but staring at him in supposed 'thought' before you nod, "okay."

"can I give you my number? so you can send me your address?" geto asks, shuffling a little bit closer to you

"mhm." you hand your phone to him and watch as he types away into your phone before he hands it back to you. when you stare back at his contact name, suguru geto, it makes a dawn of realization wash over you.

"you don't know my name, rig–"

"y/n."

you do a double take at how fast he says it and his eyes crease at your reaction.

"what?"

"you get involved in the lectures a lot." he takes note for you

"oh." you sink back into yourself

"do you know mine?"

you shyly respond with a, "yea, you get involved a lot too..."

"good to know." he grins a little, watching as you take the last sip of your drink and gesturing back towards the dancing scene, "wanna go back?"

"yeah." you confirm softly, taking the hand he gives you so you can get off the countertop smoothly. and when your feet touch the ground, you yelp, "ow ow ow ow!"

the hour of pure dancing and jumping around had not been a good rival for your new and tall heels. they were a height you had walked before, but the shoes themselves were new and not worn in, causing a great deal of pain across your entire foot.

geto held you by just below your armpits, the worry he had seeping through in his widened eyes and his leaning over to see if he find out what was wrong with you.

"what's wrong?" he asks quickly

"the heels," you scrunch up your nose in pain and sigh, "they hurt like a bitch now that I got a bit of rest."

you can tell geto feels bad about your pain by the way he grimaces for you and plants you on the countertop again. he suddenly kneels down and begins to work at the clasps of your heels.

"you can borrow my shoes. that sound alright?" he looks up at you from where he's at, already sliding one of the heels from your feet.

you're quick to deny, "but what about you?"

"satoru and I are the same size, I can just ask him for a pair, he has a million."

you give in at his response, embarrassed, "okay."

"you want me to take you home now?" he lightheartedly smiles as he works on the other heel, "I think you can walk in my shoes, but dancing doesn't seem doable."

"well yea." you say dejectedly, a little frown etching itself on your face when he finally comes back up, his lips quirk up a little when he sees it

"wait for me here then." he says, putting your shoes next to you on the countertop before he walks off a little hurriedly to you assume gojo's room.

when geto walks you to his motorcycle, he takes your heels and puts them in the compartment box of it for you, then takes his helmet and immediately puts it on your head.

an 'oomf' leaves your mouth at the sudden weight of it and he looks a little amused as he starts working at the straps of it.

"there you go."

he smirks a little as he looks at the, very large in comparison to you, helmet, and picks up his jacket that he brought back from gojo's room to put on you.

"there we go" he sighs, almost like he's proud of himself and gets on the motorcycle, turning his torso a little to pat behind him for you to get on too.

when you get on and take in the feeling of sitting on a motorcycle for the first time, he's turned around and looking at his phone, pinching and zooming in on the route to your apartment.

"you actually live pretty close to me." he murmurs, noting what roads to take.

"yeah?" you yawn, laying your head on his back

"alright," geto says, starting up his motorcycle, revving it up a bit, "hug me tight okay?"

you nod sleepily and wrap your arms around him, brain so eased by the alcohol in your system that you don't overthink it, as if your sober self wouldn't be screaming and crying on the inside during this exact situation.

geto drives off at a decent pace, some part of you thinking that this might not be the speed he normally drives off and that he was taking it a bit slower just for you. you could feel him breathe in and out all throughout the ride, his chest and stomach were rising and falling underneath your touch. you fell half asleep on him halfway through it, managing to grasp onto him like a child with their stuffed animal, and unable to resist the heaviness of your eyelids.

you blink back to reality at the sudden stop of movement, the stilling air was no longer brushing past your skin and the noise of wheels screeching against the road was gone.

after geto helps you get his helmet off, he hangs it on one of the handles and takes your heels out of the compartment box.

"this is your place right?"

another yawn flutters past your mouth again and you hold out your pointer finger to say yes.

"alright." geto says, watching as you lead the way into and through your apartment and to your place. he had placed a ghost of his hand near your back in case you started to trip up from his shoes considering their size in comparison to your feet. the walk was quiet considering your focus on making it to your door and the overwhelming sleepiness dawning on you.

when you get to your door you slip off geto's shoes and them to him, taking your heels from him in return.

"thank you, geto." you hold try not to yawn again, doe eyes sleepily fluttering at him

"you can call me by my first name." he comments comfortingly, "and no problem. see you in class?"

"yeah." and this time you do yawn, again, before you open your door and walk inside, looking at him while you hold onto the frame.

"alright then." he looks down at you from across the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his shoes, "get some rest okay?"

"okay." you almost murmur, your bed calling out to you.

you get to class at the time you usually do the following class meeting. the weather forecast had been a little chilly, so you opted for a cozy, off the shoulder sweater. it was fashionable and you had been dying to use it the moment you saw the weather forecast the night before.

you're scribbling notes onto your iPad this time, going over lecture notes from your earlier class that day. there were some things you forgot to add and that's what you always used this time for before class started. you see the class start filling in minute by minute out of your peripheral vision as you do this.

your habit of pretending to not care about suguru's presence is still existent, so all you can see for a fleeting second when you look into your backpack for a mint is that he is indeed sitting at his normal spot with gojo.

there was no chance to look at him that day in class, he hadn't spoken, which wasn't really rare, sometimes you wouldn't speak in class either. you, however, did speak in class that day, the module that the professor was teaching that day had piqued your interest a great amount and thus called for a great amount of your interaction with the lesson.

by the end of class, you were setting quick reminders on the notes you had taken of what was the most important before you started packing your bag to leave. the sound of feet and shuffling to leave the class a bit noisy, but it could let you make out the distant loud voice of gojo, probably talking to suguru.

"I have been on my best behavior. I do not know what you mean by that Suguru." "No no no that was a favor, look where it got you." "Oh you are such a wuss."

It was only a little appealing considering the fact that you couldn't hear what suguru was saying and the things that gojo was saying didn't let you get any clues as to what they were talking about. oh well.

you wanted to go home and start studying for a test tomorrow, so you started walking out of class, past suguru and gojo's line of view.

you heard a smack, like one of them had hit the other.

and gojo's voice, "idiot."

you were sitting at your desk, going over the last of your test review when you felt your phone buzz across the desk and picked it up

suguru

hey

y/n

hi

suguru

you wanna take satoru's seat next class?

y/n

he wants to flirt with mika again?

suguru

not rlly lol.

y/n

?????

suguru

I think it'd be cool to switch desk buddies every once in a while ;)

y/n

lmaooo. I won't tell mika if that's what you're scared of

suguru

haha, that's not rlly the case, but just take his seat

y/n

okay?

when you go to class again that same week, you hesitantly take gojo's seat. there was no follow up text from suguru after you said your okay and it was a little off putting. of course it had only been that night and the day after that he hadn't texted again, but it was a little weird, especially for it being the very first text conversation he strikes with you. the only thing that had been exchanged between either of you in your messages had been your address to him from gojo's party.

there were no notes for you to go over, there was no test or important knowledge that you had to use soon in any upcoming classes, so you were left to wait for the class to begin while you aimlessly scrolled through your phone and watched people come into class.

three minutes had passed before suguru and gojo were walking into class together. gojo was rubbing his friend's shoulder rather roughly, a fang filled smile on his face as he said something to him. suguru didn't seem to mind it, like many things, his eyes still had that warmth they always had, but it looked like he had said something back.

gojo playfully shoved suguru forward by the back before he laughed evilly and walked to your original seat, if you were right, you could see his bright blue eyes flick to you for a second behind his glasses before he smiled at the girl he flirted with last week.

you look up at suguru as he finally gets to the seat next to you.

"hey." he sighs with a smile as he plops into the seat.

"hey." you smile only halfway, a little tired from staying up to finish a homework the night before.

"sorry about the cryptic texts." he starts to apologize, moving his chair a little closer to yours, "satoru took my phone."

ah. that's why it seemed so out of character

"it's fine." you reassure, "they were a little off putting to read."

suguru scratches at the back of his neck, "I'm sorry about that. I meant to text after but I felt awkward."

"really? about?"

for the first time, you see him stumble on what to say, hesitance obvious when he opens and closes his mouth for a painfully slow second before he manages to respond, "to see if you were coming to the party on actual Halloween night this weekend."

"oh." your mouth opens in a little oh, oblivious to what he really wanted to say, "I'm not too sure. my friend that I went to the party with is spending it with that same guy she left with. so I don't have anyone to go with. plus I already used my costume."

"what's wrong with using the playboy bunny costume again?"

you eye him, disappointed, and lean over to flick his forehead, "i...am not an outfit repeater, suguru. the people who saw me at last week's party are going to remember me and say 'she's using the same costume again, what a loser'"

he gazes back at you as if you pat his head instead of just flicking it, warmth and a hint of mischief seeping into his stare, "you're right, you did catch a lot of attention."

"what?"

suguru leans back in his seat and answers, "you looked beautiful. it was hard to ignore."

"for who?"

"for me and every guy with eyes at the party."

he seems calm and confident when he says it, but his cheeks and ears start to get a slight pinkish hue as he awaits your response.

you try to keep looking at him, fighting the need to look away and wait for the professor to start class, your flustered face saying all too well what you're feeling, "what am I supposed to say to that?"

"you don't have to." suguru moves forward, positions his feet to face you as well as his face, and puts his elbow on the table, slanting his body onto it a little, "The president of gojo's frat asked for your name. He really liked you."

"Zenin?!"

"You like him?" he asks, with the tone of a guy who would try to set you up with the president if you said yes.

you shake your head, gaze looking down in embarrassment, "no no. it just caught me off guard..."

"if you like Toji it's fine," he tries to lower his head so he could catch your eye again, speaking earnestly yet something about it sounds like it's fake, it's weird, "he's like a dog, treat him well and he's loyal. although he can be brutally possessive, probably the type to leave hickeys on your legs if you're going to be with him and wear a costume like the one from the party."

"no, I don't like him. he's not my type." you answer meekly, having felt a bit of pressure from his boasts of the frat president.

"no?"

"no."

and before he can continue with his intense conversation again, you're saved by your professor, dramatically entering the class and bellowing for all of you to pay attention to him.

when your class ends, you try and succeed at scampering away from suguru before he can get a word out. as if she possessed magical powers, your friend called you the moment your professor ended the lesson. within the millisecond her name popped up on your phone, you grabbed at your phone at put it to your ear.

"hello?"

"hey hey! I have a question!"

you pay no mind to suguru as you haul your backpack over your shoulders and begin to walk out of class.

"what's up?"

"do you want the extra halloween costume I bought? levi is taking me to dinner on halloween for our date and I won't get to use it."

"the fembot costume?!"

you can almost makeout the banter between suguru and gojo a way's away behind you as you walk down the concrete steps of the building.

"yeah! you can go to gojo's party in it!" she beams, before her voice gains a bit of malice, "you can dance with motorcycle guy again~"

"go there by myself?" you groan, almost wanting to stomp your feet on the pavement beneath you

"lots of girls go by themselves to parties!"

"well I've never done that." you grumble

"aw come on. use the costume and go for me. pretty pleaseeeee."

"I'm going to give you a reason to be scared on halloween if this goes south for me. got it?"

it's cold when you get to gojo's party and you're beyond psyched out of your mind. from the unbelievably slutty costume that let everyone see your naked body in panties due to sheer babydoll material and the fear of coming across a very handsome suguru or toji zenin, who as handsome as he was might be able to seduce you, but you didn't want him like you did suguru.

you're more conscious of the stares now, due to suguru's previous comment and the fact that this costume was way more revealing.

on instinct you rush to the kitchen and get a strawberry daiquiri like the one suguru got for you exactly a week ago. you didn't want to get drunk tonight considering you came by yourself, so reaching for the strawberry vodka again was not within your list of options.

your eyes were on high alert as you pushed yourself through the countless bodies dancing, trying to remain unseen.

it doesn't give you cause to hide for some reason, considering he's suguru's friend, but you see satoru strut to the kitchen in a slutty firefighter costume. he was wearing the pants and boots, and nothing on top but a set of suspenders. classic.

however, you do a double take when you suguru geto wearing that same exact costume. you swear you feel your eye twitch in frustration when your eyes see his hair finally down, splayed across his back and chest, and get a peek of a tattoo tracing his spinal structure, bone for bone, going all the way up his back until it gets interrupted by his hair. his arms are practically calling to you when he fist bumps a toji zenin wearing a prisoner costume, they flex and bulge at the action. his abs are all perfectly prominent and–

he just made eye contact with you.

you hadn't gojo walk up to him and whisper something into his ear, probably that you were here.

fuck you satoru gojo.

suguru smiles immediately and turns to walk to you, leaving you to stay in place and not run away from him.

"you bought another costume?"

"no," you feel your chest heave at the sight of him, breath getting caught in your throat with his very shirtless self right in front of you. it makes you look off to a girl dancing behind him when you continue, "my friend gave me hers because she didn't end up dressing up."

"you want me to bring zenin?" he points a thumb behind him, towards the kitchen, face the definition of calm and suave.

you glare at him this time and take a sip of your daiquiri

"what? feeling shy?" he smiles down at you, if he weren't such a peaceful seeming person, you would have said it was condescending

"I'm not into zenin." a tinge of irritation already seeping into your voice.

"you sure?" he moves closer to you, your face right smack in front of his chest.

"yes." you jut your chin at him, done with his shenanigans

his lips twitch a little when he tugs your strawberry daiquiri out of your hands, grabs you by the neck, thumb close to your chin, and says, "open your mouth." he immediately starts to chug from your daiquiri and the thought of realization dawns on you of what he was about to do.

you open your mouth and he pushes his body closer to yours as he spits the drink into your mouth, his eyes solely on yours as he does it besides for when he briefly looks at something or someone behind you rather haughtily. he's still holding you and intently watching when you swallow it down immediately. that familiar happy crease of his eyes sketched itself across his face after.

you're heaving a little, star struck by the action the both of you just committed, "what was that suguru?"

"scaring off zenin. you don't want him right?"

his eyelids flutter a bit, something yours did whenever they were sleepy and it makes you search into his eyes more. your curiosity dying when you see the sudden red veins clouding the whites of his eyes. and you push him off.

"are you kidding me? you're high?"

"and drunk." he smiles, not minding your pushing him off and still inserting himself into your personal space again.

you try to speak and can't, solely out of irritation at the fact that he did that because of his intoxicated state. you bite your lip to stop yourself from overreacting and settle for shaking your head.

"you don't like guys who smoke?" he asks, genuine concern laced with his stupid crossed persona at the moment, "I tend to never smoke, but satoru passed me his joint when I was already at the 'whatever happens' point of a tequila bottle ."

"I really don't care about that in a guy, as long as he's not a musty constant weed user that can never cope with his life." you roll your eyes at him slightly, "but you just spit alcohol into my mouth because you're crossed as fuck."

"no." he scoffs, now entirely entranced in his conversation with you.

"yes."

"I spit alcohol into your mouth so zenin wouldn't come up to you."

the response makes you cross your arms over each other, "a simple 'hey she's not into you like that' would have sufficed."

"where's the fun in that?" its a serious question for him, you can tell by the way he patiently waits for your answer

irked, you look up at the ceiling while biting your cheek, trying to gather yourself again before you say, "sober up geto." and turning to walk away.

you made it your mission to stay hidden the entire party, having entered the deal with your best friend that if the night turned sour for you, she would come with her boy whatever to pick you up in his car

after their date.

which wasn't going to end until an hour or two.

the garage had stayed open to the enormous frat house, although there weren't any people in it. people had respected the space, leaving the miscellaneous in it untouched such as the two cars and...suguru's bike.

you eyed it from the rather comfy bean bag in the darkest corner of the garage, feeling a fight or flight instinct at the mere glimpse of it whenever you looked up from your phone.

it had been almost two hours since you last suguru and you were striving to keep the streak going on longer.

"told you I'm going home satoru." a wary and very sobered up voice says when they open the door to the garage, "I drank enough water, I'm sober."

it's suguru.

there is no stagger in his step and his posture is refined as he walks to lean again the trunk of the car furthest from you and closest to his bike. you remain hidden due to the cars covering you from his line of sight as well as the sheer darkness of the corner.

he's wearing a shirt now, another black one, and he rakes his hands across face when he gives a defeated sigh. you hoped he wouldn't notice you.

this was your Friday the 13th movie for sure.

suguru pulls outs his phone from one of the spacious pockets of his fireman pants and he starts to type away immediately. there's a slight buzz from your phone seconds within the action.

suguru

are you still here?

I'm sobered up now.

he shoves his phone back in his pocket after. and you watch as he stays where he is, crossing his arms across his chest while he waits a good five minutes for you to respond, which you don't do. he gets his phone out again after and taps something randomly before he puts his phone up to his ear.

buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz

the strong buzzing of your phone on your thigh make a ricochet that gets's fine tuned ears pick up quickly.

"y/n?" he's shining his phone's flashlight on you, squinting his eyes just a little to try and make you out.

nervous, you mutter, "what."

suguru turns the light off and sighs, walking to your corner, his eyes already getting adjusted to the darkness.

"why didn't you answer me?"

"do you really not know the answer?"

"you're right." he sinks down in front of you, sitting down on the floor and brushing a stressed hand through his hair. his legs are stretched out and basically manspread even though he's not on a chair.

"satoru didn't text you to switch seats with him because he wanted to flirt with mika" he comes forth, both of his hands laying across his knees.

you're confused, "but–"

"it was a wild attempt of his to help me talk to you again." and he laughs, a burst of energy randomly gracing the intense air. suguru raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck while his chest and stomach ricochet and his teeth peek out from his mouth.

"truth is, I really like you." he's still smiling.

the declaration makes you stare blankly at him and a million goosebumps rise across your entire body.

"if you don't feel the same in that regard it's fine of course." he reassures, back to his normal calm self, "I just thought it would help explain my behavior."

"since when?" you peep

"our first class meeting," suguru seems a little bashful at the confession

"I have for a couple of weeks now too." you meekly profess

suguru seems genuinely surprised, his eyes widening, "you have?"

"why do you sound so surprised?" your brows knit.

"it felt like you didn't know I existed until last week." he grins followed by a small huff of humor

"oh...that," you trail off, embarrassed, "I thought pretending you didn't exist was the best way for you to not know I had a thing for you..."

"satoru is far smarter than me in that aspect." he says, "he insisted that you were doing that when I told him."

you giggle a little, "he read me like a book."

suguru hangs his head for a second and groans, still joyful, before he whips his head up and gazes at you, "I apologize for having never gathered the courage to approach you before. I have Satoru to thank for even getting me here with you in the first place."

"it's fine." you shrug, pulling at your own fingers, "we're here now aren't we?"

"we are." he agrees before leaning over. suguru grabs one of your hands and brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss onto it while his eyes never leave your own.

"want to go back to the party?" you muster past your nerves, focus solely on the warmth of his hand still holding onto yours.

suguru shakes his head lightly, "I'm enjoying it being just the two of us right now. do you want to?"

"no, I like it here too."

theres a moment of silence, where both of you stare at the hands that the both of you have connected until a strong breeze passes and flutters the thin material of your babydoll up and makes you shiver strongly.

"let me." suguru says as he hastily gets up and gets his leather jacket that's hanging from his motorcycle, then brings it back to you, helping you tuck your arms into the sleeves and get comfortable in it.

he's above you when he does it and you can see the small glances he tries to avoid giving your body, especially at the sparkly pink thong peeking through the see through material of your costume. suguru is making sure his jacket is on your properly when you call out to him suddenly.

"suguru."

he doesn't get the chance to respond when he looks back up at you and you pull him in by the material of his shirt to kiss him.

he reciprocates within seconds, after the surprise wears off and places a hand on your thigh, the other next to your head and grabbing at the beanbag. his lips are soft and have no remnants of alcohol on them, a smooth flavor of his skin and flesh meeting your tastebuds when he dips his tongue into your mouth. it elicits a groan from him when you whimper at the contact.

he pushes as much as he can into your space without falling and you follow suit, trying to lift yourself as much as possible off the beanbag to meet him.

a particular whimper has suguru pulling away from you and pulling you up by the arm so he can maneuver you to sit on the trunk of the car next to you. when he plops you down onto it, he slots his torso between your thighs and pulls you for an even deeper kiss. his hands have a strong grip on your thighs as he keeps you against him and you can feel the distinctly large throbbing of something against your panties through his pants.

"are–mmmm–you hard?" you ask through kisses

suguru can't help the grind of his bulge against your core when he answers and keeps kissing you, giving small nips to your lips, "yes."

your eyes are closed into the kiss when your hands navigate to the waistband of his pants, about to reach for–

"not here." suguru mutters and keeps both of your wrists clamped under one of his large hands.

you pull yourself away from his lips and heave, a pout of sexual frustration illustrated on your eyes and lips. "okay."

he raises a hand to caress your cheek as he smiles fondly, "what?"

"nothing."you look away for a quick second, leaning in to kiss him again after.

suguru stops you before you do though, clamping one of his hands against your mouth while the other holds the back of your head.

he's smiling even wider this time, "now what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you touch me before I get to touch you?"

you slouch in his hold, too upset by the fact that you couldn't touch him or go back to kissing him to care about his words.

"you know, even satoru couldn't keep his eyes off of you in this little costume of yours." he looks down for a second so you could too, "god knows what toji was thinking. I saw the tent in his pants when you took my spit and booze like a good girl."

suguru sees the way you shift your hips for a smidge of relief at his words. "are you my good girl?" he leans his forehead across yours, hand still on your mouth. you try your best to let out a muffled 'mhm' and incessantly nod your head, eyes pleading and hands gripping onto his shirt.

"are you going to answer the phone when I text you next time?"

you give him the same answer again.

"god." he warily eyes you, gaze wandering towards the outline of your breasts and the rest that wasn't covered by your thong, "you're so beautiful."

the hand at the back of your neck trails down and moves some hair away from your shoulder, then ends up holding you by your lower back as suguru leans down and starts to mouth at your neck. he starts off small with his intentions, simply placing soft and subtle kisses, eliciting a ticklish response from you until his lips become searing and he goes in with the intent of leaving hickeys on you, it makes you squirm and suguru lets you, it's not like you can break away from his touch anyway. you use your legs to keep him caged in and closer to you eventually after the third 'pop' you heard coming from his mouth on your skin, it makes him audibly laugh for a second too.

you tug at the hand on your mouth, expecting for the task to be hard considering his build, but suguru lets his hand fall away easily and hold onto your thigh.

"what are you thinking pretty?" he asks mindlessly before going for the opposite side of your neck

"mmmm–about how good–mm–this feels."

"yeah?"

"mhm"

"tell me what you want to do. do you want me to drop you off at your place after this?" he blows on your most recent hickey and smirks when he sees you jump a little, "do you want me to get you food?"

"I want–ah!" suguru bites into your neck fairly hard, enough to make you moan and yelp at the same time, "I want to spend the rest of the night with you at my place. can we watch a scary movie?" the suggestion is simple and it isn't to hook up with him, although that's what you want more than ever now, but you don't want him to think you're that desperate so its what you settle for.

"couldn't imagine a better halloween than that." he smiles

you're under suguru, on your bed later that night, the movie you had been watching was long forgotten and the t.v. was turned off the second things started to get out of hand. it wasn't his fault no, suguru's a gentleman and when you said you just wanted to watch a movie, he was just going to watch the movie with you. you were the instigator. after you had been cuddled into his arms, near his neck, you decided to place a few loving kisses...that eventually turned into what this was with suguru getting up to take off and throw away his shirt while you hastily yanked off the long gloves of your costume.

he was needy, grinding his hips into yours the moment he came back down to kiss you.

"you have no idea how fucking bad I've been wanting you." he mutters, hissing when a particular rub pleases him the right way

it makes your back arch, "I think I do suguru."

"really?" he groans into your mouth, "you touch yourself to me like I do for you?"

"yeah." you sigh, clinging onto him even more, splaying your hand across the soft skin of his back.

"move your panties to the side."

when he feels your hand move down and follow his directions, suguru moves his down too and slides a finger across your soaked folds.

"fuck, this pussy is so wet for me. were you even trying to pay attention to the movie?"

"yes, I was." you complain, and whimper when he starts rubbing circles across your lower lips, gathering your slick for added stimulation after every rub.

he separates himself from kissing you to look down at his ministrations, mouth opening in a soundless moan at the sight.

"listen to this sloppy fucking pussy." he rubs faster and you start to jerk your hips up by natural defiance at the stimulation, but he holds you down "no, let me touch you baby." he says sternly

your breathing starts to pick up and you feel that familiar knot that only you can give yourself starting to build up in your stomach and suguru notices, looking up to smile at you.

"are you close angel?"

concentrated on the feeling, all you can do is nod your head and he speeds up his pace at it, garnering close to wanton moans from you and screech like whines.

"come on come on, cum for me pretty girl, cum cum cum cum–fuck, atta girl." suguru talks you through it, mouth opening in awe at the sight of your body going limp and your breathing slowing down, his cock even twitches at how cute it is that your legs kick a little when you cum too, he thinks he'll be able to keep them still when he gets make you cum on his cock.

you start to hiss at the overstimulation when he keeps rubbing your clit after your high, "'s too much suguru."

he doesn't stop, "you want to stop now then?"

the shake of your head makes his eyes light up and bite his lip with a grin, "then just let me keep going."

it takes all of your strength to lean up with one of your elbows and grab his wrist with the other, obvious strain written across your features when you huff, "I want you inside me."

like he knew that was what you wanted, suguru's grin grows wider, "are you sure?"

you nod your head in confirmation, followed by suguru saying, "so cute." before he gets up and pushes his pants and boxers down in one swift motion and climbs on top of you, manhandling your legs by pinning them to either side of your head into a mating press.

he lets his cock teasingly rub up and down your folds while he leans down to nip at your ears, "let's leave your little costume on yeah?"

you nod and make a face when his tip catches on your entrance

suguru lifts his hips at your confirmation and pushes his tip in, savoring the way you're beginning to invite him inside you.

" 's so big sugu." you whimper in shock at the larger than expected intrusion

"never taken a cock this big?" he pulls out and pushes in again a little deeper

"no." you rake your hands down his arms

suguru laughs, "good thing I'm here to provide then right? see, look at you creaming around me already."

the words make you look down at where you both meet and when he pulls out again, you can see the ring and slick on his dick, it makes you shiver.

"I'll–make–this–little-fucking–pussy-take–me." he punctuates each and every one of his words with a thrust that pushes himself deeper and deeper inside you until you can fully feel his tip grazing your cervix and every vein on his dick ridging against your walls from how girthy he is.

every sound that comes out of your mouth after is incoherent when suguru starts to punishingly pummel into you and god does he keep talking to you.

"you look so pretty taking this dick baby. god, you sound even cuter than I imagined. you like getting stretched out like this? fuck, take it take it take it. wish I could make you sit on it, you'd look so cute trying to ride me."

it's all so much, especially when every thrust is accompanied by a moan or groan of his or with a sentence.

"couldn't fucking wait to get home after the party last week too. wanted to rip off that costume and fuck you till you couldn't even scream. and when you wear those skirts with pantyhose to class?" suguru groans, "all–I–can–think–about–is–bending–you–over–and–stuffing–this–pussy–with–my–cum."

"suguru!" you squeal, "im–I'm gonna cum!"

suguru tightens his hold on your thighs at the admission and starts jackhammering into you, "cum around me baby. let me fuck you through it." it almost sounds like he's starting to beg, "just cum for me, cum for me, cum–"

a silent scream leaves your mouth and you trash in suguru's hold while he keeps his furious pace.

"so pretty, angel." his eyebrows knit as he watches you orgasm and feels you clamp down on him. it has his peak lurching across his body and his thrusts grow erratic as he starts spurting his cum into you.

he leans down to kiss you as his cock twitches inside of you, leaking his cum into you each time.

at the end of the kiss, the both of you are heaving against each other, smiles on both of your faces until you erupt into laughter and giggles.

suguru is still inside you and places a loving kiss on your forehead, swiping away your sweaty baby hair, "you're cute when you cum. you kick your legs a little, I like it."

the confession has you trying to shy away and suguru laughs again, caressing your head, "why are you shying away? you wore this costume for everyone to see just a couple hours ago."

"well this is you telling me you think the way I cum is cute, its quite different than guys looking at my thong." you shakily grab onto his shoulders

"I suppose so." suguru nuzzles into your neck, "do you have a bath?"

"yeah."

"let me start one for us then." he pulls out and both of you look down at your lonely entrance until his cum starts to leak out. suguru seems entranced and you can see his cheeks start to gain a red hue accompanied by the blood starting to rush to his cock too.

suguru looks back at you the moment you do too. you reach a hand out to him and he crawls back on top of you.

"we can do that later right?"

"right."

[shimp-heaven]

Uh oh blood don't work good

[beesorcery]

hello here is 3.29-3.31! absolutely devastating for my bingo

hello it's part 3 of 3 for my cool fun graphic design adventure!! part 1 and part 2 got too long. to recap i am recreating this t-shirt design but with the magic 8 ball songs instead of city names:

here is the current draft, updated through 3/27 (pittsburgh) (!!!!)

[sukirichi]

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 | 𝐒. 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮

— in which you and your fuck buddy pretend to date, which totally won’t lead to feelings at all, right?

content / warnings. toxic college settings. explicit smut. MINORS DNI. choking. exhibitionism. fingering. making out. masturbation. voyeurism. toxic characters. reverse cowgirl riding. implied dub-con. friends with benefits. fake dating. unedited.

dedicated to @kyriaan

The sixth beep of your phone that cursed morning had you shuffling around your bag for the device, fishing it out and muting it with exasperation. To no one’s surprise, he was the sole topic again. Oikawa this and Oikawa that — how he’d be such a great boyfriend to you and your friends could also go on dates with his equally charismatic friends; you were tired of hearing the same thing over and over again.

“Funny seeing you here,” a bored voice drawled out, the scraping of a chair against the floor snapping you to your senses. “Never in my whole life did I imagine I’d find you hiding in a library of all places — are you reading Freud? His theories are shit. They’re not even scientifically proven.”

You raised a brow at Suna Rintaro, your not-so friend friend.

You and Rintaro had a strict friends with benefits relationship.

It started with meeting at a party once when you needed a release from the stress of finals, you made out on the crowded dance floor and found yourselves tangled in the sheets with barely any memory of the night before. The rest was history. Soon, you ran into him more often than you’d expected, and it wasn’t long before you added his name into speed dial.

Funnily enough, you weren’t that close to him.

You either knew everything about him or knew little to nothing. Most of the time you spent with Rintaro would be when you two were drunk out of your minds, bodies too occupied with moving against one another that ‘getting to know each other’ had never been a thing.

For some reason, however, Rintaro was someone you could trust with your whole heart. You just wouldn’t date him because you weren’t looking for a relationship, and neither was he.

Both of you loved the arrangement you had now.

“Why do you know so much about Freud? I just randomly picked up this book.”

Rintaro shrugged, “‘Hooked up with a girl in Psychology once; she was pretty hot, but you’re still my favourite,” winking, he chewed on his gum before snatching the book away from you.

A protest nearly fell from your mouth when a mop of wavy, dark hair sauntered inside the library, taking long, confident strides as he chatted with Iwaizumi. Eyes widening, you ducked your head behind Suna, desperately clutching the hoodie clad on his stiff back.

Rintaro glanced downwards at you, “You’re hiding like you murdered somebody’s pet. Should I be worried or should I help you in hiding someone’s body?”

“Literally shut up. Oikawa is right there.”

“Oikawa... Tooru?” following your line of sight, Rintaro’s back slouched at the same time his lips curled into a mischievous smile. You could tell he was stifling his laughter; the vibrations of his back spoke enough of his urge to betray you. “Oh, he’s looking here. At you, I might say — care to explain?”

“I have nothing to explain to you. We’re not even friends.”

“Ouch,” Rintaro clutched at his chest, “That hurt. Weren’t you at my dorm like five nights in a row last week? You didn’t want me to leave the bed either. I thought we had something special!”

“Suna Rintaro, I am not fucking around with you. Shut up. I swear if Oikawa walks here, I’m never talking to you again.”

As if to prove a point, you plopped until your upper body squished against his back and the chair, cheeks puffing out in frustration as Rintaro sighed. “Okay, you don’t have to explain anything to me, but come on. You’re using me as a human shield and I have zero context on what’s going on,” he tapped your thigh, head slightly tilted to the side with a wary eye out for Oikawa. “Listen, if he’s bothering you, I could deal with it. He looks like the type of guy who doesn’t know what ‘no’ means so if that’s the case, stop hiding. I can help you with it. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

Your grip on his hoodie listened. Peering up from the bottom of your lashes, you nervously licked your lips. “Wait... you mean that? You’ll really help me?”

“Yeah! You send me nudes that motivate me to ace my exams so this is the least I could do.”

“You just have to make everything sexual, don’t you?” you rolled your eyes and ignored Rintaro’s shameless smile. Scanning the room, you glared at Oikawa’s direction before sitting up and gluing yourself to Rintaro’s hip, whose brow raised but said nothing otherwise. “Okay, so the thing is... my friends may or may not have set me up with Oikawa. They kind of gave him false hope I’m really into him — which I never will be because he has a shitty personality — but he’s not having any of it. He insisted I should go with him on just one date, and if I still don’t change my mind about him, then he won’t push further. Otherwise, he really doesn’t take no for an answer. He’s everywhere that I ended up blurting out I was already dating someone.”

Rintaro rested his chin on his palm. “That’s a lot of information to take in,” he mused, “So... you need help in finding a fake boyfriend, is that it?”

“About that,” with guilt written all over your face, you scratched the back of your neck and chuckled, making sure to avoid eye contact the entire time. “You were the first one to come to mind so I told him I was dating the middle blocker from his team. The uhm, guy who stays up until three am fighting in Twitter threads.”

Rintaro’s jaw dropped. “No way,” he clicked his tongue, hands coming up to ball beside your cheeks as he fought the desire to squeeze your cheeks. Meanwhile, you blinked at him innocently, lower lip jutted out in hopes you’d appease him — which more or less worked as he slumped in his seat. “I can’t believe you dragged me into this.”

“I didn’t have a choice!”

“You did and you chose to date me!” Rintaro hissed under his breath, “Jeez, if you wanted us to be official, you could’ve said so. I would’ve thought about it,” exhaling through his nose, Rintaro pushed his hair back, his head too much of a mess to notice you getting flustered. “Fine. I’ll be your fake boyfriend, but don’t you dare fall in love with me. Our condition when we started sleeping together was that we’re limited to casual relationships only. I like our arrangement already, and you mean a lot to me as a friend so I don’t want to lose you, alright? Whatever we’re doing, it’s all going to be an act.”

“Deal,” you shook his hand, face lighting up at how it didn’t take much to convince him. “Now go to the party with me tonight. We’ll show Oikawa why he can’t have me.”

The sight of bodies grinding onto another and music blaring through the speakers weren’t new to you and Rintaro. You’d both seen the same scene a thousand times before, having been part of that crowd at one point. Yet, tonight felt different from rest. The music felt muted as you walked through the door with Rintaro’s hand down on your waist, the stench of alcohol and sex overpowered by the musky perfume your fake boyfriend wore.

You couldn’t think clear around him.

You tried to blame it on the jitters that set your nerves on fire, anxiety pooling in your stomach at the thought Oikawa made it clear he wanted to see you tonight.

Of course, you weren’t stupid. Knowing the guy infamous for his reputation for sleeping around and changing partners like they were his clothes, he wouldn’t give up once he had his eyes set on someone. It just so happened that unfortunate person had to be you.

“Relax,” Rintaro breathed into your ear, pulling you closer by the hip when you weaved through the people nearly fucking on the floor. The sudden gesture had you jolting for a split second. Blinking, Rintaro’s reassuring smile greeted you with a tinge of amusement, his gaze tracing down your nails forming crescent moons on his arm. “Do you really have to cling to me all night?”

“We’re supposed to be a couple madly in love, remember?” you reminded with a bounce of your heel, surveying the throng of people milling in and out of the frat house in search of Oikawa.  “You should kiss me too as soon as we see him. Then he’ll stop bothering me and we can be over with this fiasco.”

“Asking just in case, but how should I kiss you? Like a peck?”

“Kiss me like you want the whole world to know I’m yours,” you said nonchalantly, not thinking too much of it since this was supposed to be an act. Until a horde of loud males started cheering as soon as they entered the room, the crowd welcoming Oikawa and his friends warmly when Rintaro suddenly grabbed you by the wrist, twisting you to face him. The last thing you saw before Rintaro tilted his head to the side to press his lips to yours was the look of utter horror on Oikawa’s face.

Although, honestly, who cared? Rintaro tasted like beer and strawberries, his musky scent clouding your senses that your eyes closed in response.

Knees weakening, you grabbed onto Rintaro’s shoulders to steady yourself, gasping into his greedy lips when you felt him squeeze your hip possessively. You groaned into the kiss, your hands running up to play with the ends of his hair as Rintaro’s back hit the wall, his bent leg trapped between your thighs. He quickly took the chance and nudged his knee on your clothed pussy. Your skirt grazed against your sensitive core that you attempted to pull away to breathe, but Rintaro wasn’t having any of it.

Smirking beneath you, Rintaro hooked a finger into the chains dangling from your skirt and pulled you flush against him. You had no time to react before he was pushing a tongue past your lips. Warm, wet muscles danced against each other as Rintaro memorized the taste of you the same way you did for him — not a single care about air anymore when he made those low, deep whimpers setting fire to your loins.

But just as soon as you leaned in for more, his hair tugged backward to deepen the kiss, Rintaro pulled away. “That’s how I’d kiss you if I were your boyfriend,” he declared, pads of his thumb swiping against his moist lip swollen from the little nips you gave him — the look of pleasure and satisfaction displayed all over his handsome face that told you how much he enjoyed your needy whines.

You gaped at him, your skin burning from being edged.

Rintaro flicked you on the forehead. “Don’t look at me like that. You asked me to kiss like I wanted to let the world know your mine, and he was looking. Besides, we need to show someone who you belong to, right?” pushing his weight off the wall, Rintaro lightly bit your earlobe as you breathed hard, his sharp, cold gaze focused on a flushed red Oikawa standing across the room. “I have a better idea if you’re up for it.”

Arms crossed against your chest, you wrapped your arms around his waist in faux affection, when in reality you only needed to hear what he said through the loud music. “What do you have in mind?” The smirk on Rintaro’s face was as loud as a warning siren.

“Turn around.”

Even if you didn’t want to, Rintaro wasn’t asking. He spun you around by the shoulders, your back flushed against his chest when you felt his knee nudge between your legs once more. His fingers calloused from playing volleyball snaked past your thigh and dangerously close to your heated pussy. “This is what I had in mind,” he whispered, his voice sending tingles straight down your spine. “Let’s burn that pretty face of yours into his head. Show him what he can’t have.”

Your dignity told you to say no. To be fingered in public like this was less than ideal, even more so when your lace panties dangerously flashed into view. Yet, you found yourself arching your back to retaliate.

Ass nudging against Rintaro’s hardening cock, you smirked upon hearing his low groans. One palm cupped your ass as a warning before he playfully snapped your underwear against your thigh, a wince painting your half fucked out features from the sting. Glancing at him from the side, you sneered, about to protest when he wiggled his free hand and cupped your pussy.

Your mouth hung open.

Oikawa’s drink fell from his hands. No longer was he paying any attention to his friends, rather on the way you keened and your tongue threatening to loll out your lips the moment Rintaro’s thumb flicked your clit.

“You’re such a naughty slut. Who knew you were into this?”

“He’s watching, Rintaro,” you whimpered, gripping at his wrist like he wasn’t knuckle deep in your pants already. “Someone could see and think we’re—”

“That’s the point,” lowering his mouth onto your neck, you gasped at his teeth sinking down on the skin. Behind you, you could hear the hand on your ass disappear at the sounds of a belt unbuckling, fuelling your imagination to both the best and worst scenarios. Rintaro wasn’t far behind in his surprise as were you; you never expected you’d enjoy giving someone a show either, much less cum on the spot the second Rintaro’s cock slipped inside you. “Aw, fuck, did you just come undone for me? I haven’t even done anything yet.”

You shook your head, palms slippery with sweat as you held onto his slick hands squeezing your waist. The music was no longer audible from the pounding of your heart. Hell, you could barely feel your legs when Rintaro mumbled something incoherent around you before he guided your connected bodies onto a nearby couch.

Plopping down with your weight on top of him, you held onto his knees for dear life. Rintaro settled on the leather couch occupied by a stoned student laughing by himself, the latter’s chuckles halting when he was greeted by the sight of your hazy eyes and pants falling from your mouth. Meanwhile, Rintaro rested his arms on the back of his head. He didn’t have to lift a finger, much less give a command for you to know he wanted you to ride him right here — if you looked straight across, Oikawa would be right before you a few feet away, his frown deeply engraved into his face.

“Rin, I...”

He sat up in a flash at the hesitance in your voice, warm hands wrapping around your waist protectively. It took you a second to realize he hid his nestled cock from everyone’s prying eyes in case you weren’t comfortable, but the gesture did nothing but make you clench around him harder — both from the anxiety and anticipation.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you wanted people to watch. You wanted him to see Rintaro had total control over your body, no matter how humiliating the situation might be.

“Do you want us to stop? Should we go somewhere else?”

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you bent your legs to rest beside his thighs, fingers looping around the ones hooked under your breast to steady yourself before you lifted your hips, then slammed back down. Again and again, until sweat dripped from your head to your jaw, you kept eye contact with a red-faced Oikawa. All the while as you bounced on Rintaro’s dick and threw your head back, laughing with your whole chest at the lights spinning from the ceiling since it reminded you of the seventh heaven you were in.

Rintaro let you go at your own pace, his grunts and garbled utterances of your name blending with the party wilding from the background. You could feel him twitching inside of you. His cock bumped and grazed your walls until the tip kissed a particular sensitive spot that had you losing your balance for a moment, nails digging into his ripped jeans to catch your breath.

“Goddamn,” Rintaro cursed, stealing away your ability to breathe with his hand snaking into your neck. “You dirty fucking slut, getting off to acting like a whore in front of the whole campus, huh? Go on. Show them how you’re such a whore for my cock.”

You couldn’t swallow down your words.

Rintaro’s grip on your neck had you on a literal chokehold, strong enough to deprive you of air and tighten around him, but not to a point you felt lightheaded. If anything, the power he displayed only fuelled you to ride him harder. Drawing figure eights with your hip, you could feel drool smearing your lipstick as the red stains smudged against Rintaro’s palm, the sound of slick and skin slapping against skin like music to your ears.

Only Rintaro could ever make you feel this way.

From the night you’d met him, each time you fucked would be the best experience of your life. Not once had he failed in bringing you over the edge or experimenting with the most absurd positions you’d never thought of before, and now you were returning the favour.

You rode his cock like it was your last mission. ‘Death by cock’ didn’t sound like such an unfavourable thing either, not when it meant losing yourself in his thick girth spreading you wide and the lewd sight of your cum sticking to his thighs. His jeans were a mess, but Rintaro never complained. He didn’t care then, and he wouldn’t care now. Seeing you dirty his clothes, your sweat dampening his shirt and your own cum coating his cock like a rewarding trophy of what felt like the best night of his life — Rintaro didn’t give a single fuck about the mess.

“F-Fuck, Rin, I’m coming!”

Rintaro held your waist, taking over with complete control as he slammed your hips up and down his twitching cock, curses falling back and forth from his mouth. “Cum on me,” he ordered. Resting his chin on your shoulders, Rintaro’s other hand twisted your jaw in the direction of Oikawa biting his lip, his hand suspiciously following your movements from under the luminescent lights. “Look at that dirty fucker. Let’s show him what he missed out on, yeah?”

A burst of warmth exploded inside you. You were too stunned to move, thighs burning from the ache that you accepted it with delight before falling back into Rintaro’s chest. “That was the best fuck of my life,” you admitted through lidded eyes, “But we’re fucked tomorrow. The whole campus is going to talk about us.”

“Let them.”

Post-nut clarity hit you hard like a truck.

Albeit expecting the rumours and looks you’d be getting the next day, the blatant impressed stares mixed with some envious ones never got easier by the end of classes. Everywhere you went, people would be whispering. But like Rintaro always used to say each time you cried to him, there’d be light at the end of the tunnel, because the best part of it all that made everything worth it?

Oikawa avoided you like the plague. Not because he was appalled of what he’d witnessed and what he’d done, but rather word spread out how he’d been rejected.

For the first time in his life, Oikawa Tooru felt humiliation, at the hands of his own teammate, no less — something Rintaro took pride in when you crashed by his room that night.

“You should’ve seen the look on his face. It was priceless,” he snickered while scrolling through the phone, about to comment when the door swung open, revealing a carbon copy replica of Rintaro. In female version.

Rintaro quickly shot out of bed and threw a blanket over your head, stalking to the girl standing with her mouth hanging ajar at the door. “What are you doing here? I thought you guys wouldn’t be home until the weekend. Plus, how’d the fuck you get inside the dorms? You’re not supposed to be here, Remi.”

Remi ignored him. “Are you hiding your girlfriend? Mom needs to know about this, she’d love to meet her!”

That was how you found yourself stuck to Rintaro in a cramped booth with his family not an hour later. You awkwardly picked at your food, stealing glances at an equally silent Rintaro while his younger sister, Remi, kept babbling about how her brother hid a girlfriend this whole time. His family went out of town for business for a while, but since they got home earlier, they decided to surprise Rintaro with a visit.

He sure was surprised, and so were you since they hadn’t stopped calling you ‘dear’ ever since.

His parents were nice — they warmly welcomed you and even invited you to have dinner with them sometime at their house. Mrs. Suna would whip up a meal to welcome you as part of their family, saying that you should consider it a thanks for making their son smile. Remi was the most excited out of all them. She’d been wanting an older sister for a while now, and she hadn’t stopped clinging onto your arm the whole time until her parents forcefully snatched her away when it was time go back home.

The entire walk back to the dorms felt suffocating.

None of you spoke a word, not until you arrived at your building and Rintaro shoved his hands down his pockets, swinging back and forth on his feet. “So... are you free this Friday? You should come have dinner with us.”

“You’re seriously asking me that?”

“Why not? You’re invited. Don’t be rude and not go.”

“It’s not being rude, Rintaro, you’re asking me to lie to your parents,” you snapped, halting in your tracks to stare at him in disbelief. “They adored me all because they think I’m dating you, but we’re not the least bit close to that. We just fuck and call it day, maybe hang out when we’re bored, but we don’t know each other at all. And weren’t you the one who told me that we can’t be more than just fuck buddies?”

Rintaro rolled his eyes. “You’re right, but I agreed to pretend to be your boyfriend to push Oikawa away. Now do me a favour and keep up with the fake girlfriend thing. My parents will be devastated if I tell them we’re not real.”

“I don’t want to lie to them!”

“It’s not a big deal! Why’re you making a mountain out of everything? So because the deal on my side doesn’t require fucking, you’ll back out just like that?”

Your mouth hung open in shock. “It’s because I don’t want to be your fake girlfriend, Rintaro, I want to date you for real!” you blurted out, eyes widening at the same time Rintaro’s cheeks flushed. Realizing what you just said, you inwardly regretted it with a grimace. “I’m sorry. You said we can’t be more than that and I know I just ruined our friendship, but I’m really sorry. I can’t bring myself to lie to your family like that, and I don’t want to lie about my feelings either,” hanging your head down low, you bit the insides of your cheeks. No matter what you said, you couldn’t take it back anymore.

“Rintaro, I like you. You make me happy and I want to do the same for you, but I understand if we’re done now. It was nice to have met you.”

Without waiting for his response, you ran back into the building when a hand wrapped around your wrist. You stared at the long fingers and to the arm connected to it, heart sinking into your chest when you came face to face with Rintaro’s handsome face.

“You didn’t even give me a chance to speak.”

“I’m sure you don’t want to be near me, Rintaro.”

Rintaro sniffed, averting the intensity of your gaze and shrugging his shoulders shly. “On the contrary... I’d like to spend every waking minute with you,” he mumbled so soft that you wouldn’t have heard it if you didn’t listen hard enough, but you did, and you were left gaping at him with warmth spreading through your skin. You stood there, watching as Rintaro laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head. “Sorry if I said that a little too late, but yes. I’d like to be your real boyfriend. Then I can fuck you exclusively because I don’t think I like the idea of you riding other people like that.”

You swatted his arm away with a laugh. “That’s the reason you want to date me?”

“There’s other reasons too like how I love talking to you and I want to get to know you more,” he cupped your face, grinning when his palms felt the warmth emanating from your skin. “And also, I want to do this more with you.”

Leaning down, Rintaro kissed you under the flickering lights of your hallway, the both of your lips stretching into a smile. In a way, you were thankful your friends tried setting you up with someone else, because if you’d known it would lead you to realizing your feelings for Rintaro, you would’ve asked him to date you a little earlier.

[nervousimposter]

Eddie started finding notes in his locker his sophomore year. The first couple of them, he just tossed without reading. He didn’t need to read what those asshole bullies wanted to say about him. But curiosity won out after two weeks of constant notes and he finally opened one. It was the single most impactful thing he’d ever read. 

I think you’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. 

He kept that note. And every other note he got from that point on. If anyone were to ask Eddie what he regretted most in his life, it would be those two weeks of notes he tossed without reading. Ten slips of paper with unknown writing that he wishes he could get back. Add them to his ‘mystery boys notes’ box. And he was a mystery, the note writer. Anonymous. Unknown. Impossible to catch. 

Eddie held out for a month. A whole month before he decided to stage a stake out. He watched his locker like a hawk. In between classes, during classes, lunch, after school and even one absolutely horrible day where he came in an hour before school started. But the mystery boy had to be invisible. He never saw anyone approach his locker but his daily note was always there. And Eddie; poor, unfortunate, infatuated Eddie dealt with mystery boys’ notes from ‘82 to ‘85. Four agonizing years of the most heart-warming, loving notes. 

I wish I was as brave as you.

Did you change your shampoo? Your hair looked so soft today.

God, your eyes have to be the biggest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen. So pretty.

I like how long your hair is getting. 

Saw you walking down the hall today and I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more. 

They started cute. Compliments here and there, even a doodle every once in a while. Hearts and smiley faces. But as the months and years went by, the mystery boy got deeper. Confessions and secrets. 

I think if I had a different dad, we would’ve been best friends.

Can you fall in love with someone you’ve never talked to?

I dream about us. 

I’m a boy. I’m sorry.

I want to hold your hand. Those rings are something else. 

I saw you trying to catch me. Adorable.

I wish I could take you on a date. Not give a shit what my dad would say or what people would think. 

I wish I could be brave enough to talk to you. 

You’re still the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.

I’m graduating this year. I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you. I think I’m going to try to figure out a way to keep dropping these off next year. I don’t want you to forget about me.

The notes didn’t continue when the school year started. Eddie was embarrassed to admit he cried that first night. He wasn’t sure how the mystery boy was going to be able to get the notes to him but he fully believed it was going to happen. He went five weeks with no daily note in his locker. And then, it showed up on a Monday. He almost missed it, the tiny slip of paper. 

Sorry this took so long. Had to figure out how I was going to sneak these in here. I don’t think I’ll be able to call you pretty every day of the week this time around but I’m going to try my best! 

And mystery boy was right. The notes were always there on Monday. Just Monday. But Eddie didn’t complain. One note a week after five weeks of nothing almost had his heart bursting from his chest. It also narrowed down his search. Sort of. Mystery boy was either coming in on those Mondays to drop off the note, sneaking in on the weekends when the school was empty OR after school on Fridays. And look, he’s failed to graduate high school two times in a row now but he wasn’t stupid. Did it take him three months after the notes to start again for him to realize who it was? Yes but to be fair, for two of those months it was Eddie wallowing in denial. 

Five weeks into school was when he restarted Hellfire. Three weeks before that was when he brought in those new little freshman sheepies. The same freshman sheepies that got picked up by Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington who graduated last year. Steve Harrington who he catches staring at him from his beemer in the parking lot every Friday night before he takes the kiddies home. Steve who he categorizes as someone who is so far out of his league that it just couldn’t be him. But it’s been three months and there isn’t any other former Hawkins high student running around in or near the school. And now that Eddie’s almost certain Steve has been mystery boy these past few years, he can’t wait. He’s been in love with a figure made out of slips of paper for four years and his nonexistent patience has truly run thin.  

He calls for a break 15 minutes before they normally end their sessions. Tells the boys he needs to run to the bathroom and almost sprints out the door. His locker sits in the hallway just around the corner of the drama room. The door closing shut echos through the empty hallways, alongside the squeaks coming from his shoes as he hustles towards his locker. He freezes as soon as he turns the corner. 

Steve probably only had 30 seconds after hearing the door open and shut to process what he was going to do. He could’ve run or hid, maybe pretend like he just needed the bathroom while he waited. But Eddie watched him pause as they made eye contact instead. Watched as Steve looked him up and down. Watched him relax and lean back against the lockers behind him with a lazy smirk. His arm slowly moved up and Eddie could see a slip of paper held between his fingers. Steve didn’t break eye contact with him at all as he proceeded to shove the paper between the vents of his locker. They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Staring. Broken when Steve pushed himself off the wall and walked towards him. He didn’t stop. Side stepped around Eddie before they could collide. A faint brush of his fingers along the back of his hand as he walked past him. And Eddie just watched him pass. Just like he watched him slip that note in his locker, he watched Steve walk back down the hall and out the front doors.

He waited only five seconds after the doors closed behind Steve before he jogged over to his locker. Grabbed the note and shoved it into his pocket before running back over to the drama room. Told the guys that they stopped at a decent spot and would meet again next Friday. Walked with them to the parking lot to head home. To catch a glimpse of Steve. And there he was, sitting in his beemer, staring again. This time though, Eddie smiled at him. He smiled at him and pulled the note out of his pocket. Opened it right there in the parking lot while he stared back at Steve. It only took him a few seconds to glance down to read. And as soon as he did, he threw his head back and laughed. Cackled really. He looked back at the beemer and saw Steve with the widest grin. Watched him lift his fingers off the steering wheel and wiggle them at him before he started pulling out of the lot. He looked back down at the note in his hand and chuckled again. Who knew Steve Harrington knew DnD well enough to draw a perfect rendition of an eight sided dice?

Wanna go on a d8? - Steve Harrington xxx-xxx-xxxx

[joelscruff]

truth or dare (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

notification blog | kofi | in honor of my bestie han @swiftispunk who recently celebrated her birthday (and in honor of spooky season starting 🎃) i thought i'd step outside the boundaries of what i usually write and try something new. i'd also like to give a huge shoutout to @toxicanonymity whose entire masterlist greatly influenced my desire to try something like this. please heed the warnings!!! and as i said this is my first time writing anything like this so pls be kind 🫠

summary: a harmless game of truth or dare ends with you tied up in a certain mysterious neighbor's garage. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: dubcon (reader is given a choice to leave, but not immediately), dark!joel, age gap (reader is college age, joel is in his fifties), unprotected p in v sex, use of restraints, ropes, spanking, degradation, sir kink, dirty talk (use of 'little girl' as a pet name), face fucking, rough sex, creampie, brief anal play, humiliation, inappropriate use of a household item (he puts a flashlight up her cooch), marking (with a sharpie), size kink (joel is much bigger than reader and can lift her), pls lemme know if i forgot anything word count: 8.3k

Your palms are sweaty, fingers sticking to your skin as you stand at the edge of the property with goosebumps already blooming along your flesh. The air is chilly, that end of summer evening air flooding your nostrils as a car drives past through streams of leftover rainwater, headlights blurring your vision for a moment. It passes quickly and you're alone again, standing on the street corner with a mixture of anticipation and dread filling your trembling body.

Everything had been fine about twenty minutes ago. A typical party with your hometown friends, one last hurrah before everyone splits off for the third year in a row to go back to their respective colleges, back to long lectures and underwhelming frat boys. It had gone the same way it always does when you get together - shots, secrets, schemes. No end of summer party could ever be complete without a game of truth or dare, not for your crowd anyway.

It had started simple. "Which one of us had the best glow-up this year?" "I dare you to text the last guy you slept with." "What's the kinkiest thing you've done with somebody?" "I dare you to show us the last nude someone sent you." Typical borderline adolescent challenges, things you all still followed through with despite being too old for the game - it's the principle of it, to indulge and pretend, if only for a little while, that life is as simple as it once was.

"Who's the last person you had a sex dream about?"

You'd twisted your hands awkwardly in your lap, felt heat rush to the apples of your cheeks. Usually a question like this wouldn't make you hesitate, but the subject of the answer had been a slightly embarrassing one. As soon as the name Joel Miller had fallen from your lips, you'd been met with screams and squeals and excited chatter from every direction.

"He's so fucking creepy though," one of your friends had said with wide eyes, palm over her mouth, "He gives off serial killer vibes."

"Oh please, he's not that bad," another had chimed in, "He's just a loner, kinda mysterious. I see the vision."

"Are we forgetting the part where he's old as hell? Dude must be in his fifties, at least."

"But that means experience."

"It could also mean limp dick."

"You guys are disgusting," you'd moaned, leaning back on your hands, "It was one dream, let's move on."

And they had. Briefly. Until it was once again your turn and they'd all rounded on you with cheshire cat grins and glinting stares. You should have known what was coming when you chose Dare.

"I dare you to go over to his house."

You'd resisted, of course. The dare itself didn't even make much sense; what were you meant to do? Go over and ding-dong-ditch his front door like a twelve year old boy? But it had only snowballed from there, all five girls tossing in their own thoughts and ideas, talking and giggling over each other. "She should ask him on a date." "She should just flirt a little bit, see how he reacts." "She could see how far she can get with him, maybe?" "Oh shit, that's good."

You could have always said no - there was no way any of them could force you to do it, even if it would have ended the party abruptly with grumbled complaints and a slammed door. But the more they talked the more you found yourself listening, letting the concept sink in, the images of the dream you'd had the other night flooding to the front of your mind. Mysterious and elusive Joel Miller, big hands covered in the motor oil he uses to tinker with his truck, trailing his messy fingers between the swells of your breasts...

They'd managed to convince you just by the reminder alone, though also due to the fact that they'd each tossed in a twenty dollar bill and stated that simply getting a kiss on the cheek would warrant a win. The prospect was intriguing; it would be a testament to your own desirability, your game. How far can you get with your quiet neighbor who probably hasn't touched a woman in years? Who'll probably fold the second he realizes someone as young and beautiful as you is interested in him?

"I'll do it," you'd said with a smirk, rising from the hardwood, "How hard can it be?"

Harder than you thought, apparently. Because now you stand a few feet from Joel Miller's house, loitering soundlessly at the edge of his front lawn, hesitating. The sun has gone down, turning the hedges along the side of his property into frighteningly tall shadows, dark and menacing. A light breeze flows past and you wrap yourself tighter in your well-worn maroon cardigan, shivering, staring at your boots and wondering if you can really bring yourself to do this.

It'll be so humiliating if he rejects your advances. On the other hand, will it somehow be less-so if he returns your flirtatiousness and you then have to reject him once you've gotten what you came for? How will that make you look? You're not even really sure why you care - probably because the man has done nothing to you whatsoever, nothing that would warrant such a foolish prank as this being played on him. It makes you feel bad, in a way. As much as you and your friends make fun of him, he really is just a man who keeps to himself - perhaps this is going too far.

You notice light flickering nearby, a reflection of fluorescents in the puddles of his driveway. You figured he'd be in his garage - it's where he spends most of his time, bent over the exposed hood of the truck he's seemingly been working on ever since he moved in at the beginning of the summer. You've never seen him drive it, never even seen him leave the property, but you've passed by the house on more than one occasion. You've seen the way he rolls up the sleeves of his flannel, forearms splattered black and grey, expression focused on the task at hand while sweat drips from his greying temples.

Having a sex dream about him really shouldn't have been that shocking, now that you think about it. The man is a mystery, sure, but he isn't ugly by any means.

You swallow down your qualms, picturing the faces of your friends more than likely smooshed against the living room window a few houses back, watching. As soon as you turn the corner, you'll disappear from view, obstructed by the hedges and the sudden darkness of night. You take one more deep breath, one last burst of chilly evening air into your lungs, and accept your fate.

--

He doesn't notice you walking up his driveway, taking slow and meager steps as you assess the open garage, the truck with its hood popped as usual, the flickering of the florescent lights hanging from the ceiling. He doesn't notice you, but you notice him. You spot a pair of steel toed boots and long denim clad legs sticking out from underneath the truck, hear the clink and clang of metal against metal while he tinkers with something down there, unseen. As you reach the garage it becomes apparent that you still have one last chance to end this before it begins, turn around and take the loss.

But you don't.

"Excuse me," you offer in a weak voice, teetering nervously at the edge of the garage door, neither inside nor out - neutral ground.

The clinking stops, replaced by the steady pounding of your heart in your chest, the heaviness of your breathing. You try to loosen your hands from their fisted forms and unclench your fingers, focusing on the stretch of flesh and bone while the legs beneath the car slowly begin to inch forward. He's not laying on any type of support, one of those wheeled contraptions you've seen other people use - no, he's simply got his back to the ground, a back and body that's slowly coming into view.

His black and green flannel rides up where he's been laying on it, as well as the grey t-shirt he wears beneath; as he slides out from under the car you spot a bare sliver of skin just above his waistband, a patch of hair that trails down into his jeans. A lump forms in your throat. When he finally peeks his head out, you swallow around it and try to remember to breathe.

Greying hair slicked back behind his ears, cheekbones smeared slightly with something black, scruff lining a strong yet soft jawline, a plump bottom lip, and those eyes... dark brown, almost black. It's the face that's practically been haunting you all summer, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.

His brow furrows as soon as he sees you, "Can I help you?"

It's not the first time you've heard him talk, but it's certainly the first time he's ever spoken directly to you. His accent is stronger than you remember, words slipping smoothly past his lips like butter as he eyes you from the floor of his garage, knees up, hands still hidden in the darkness. A few seconds pass before you realize he's asked you a question.

"Oh, um-" You haven't thought this through very far, that's for sure. What the fuck do you even say? You take a breath and remind yourself that you're good at this, have seduced your fair share of frat boys in the past two years with minimal effort and have never heard the word no. Sure, Joel Miller isn't a frat boy - far from it - but underneath his cold exterior he's still very much a man, and very much capable of falling under the spell of a beautiful woman. You hope, anyway.

"I was just taking a walk," you lie, "Saw your light on, thought I'd come say hi."

He stares at you blankly, like he's unsure exactly how he's supposed to respond - or perhaps he's already seeing through your façade. You take a step into his garage, poised at the edge as you lean casually against the opening.

"Honestly, um-" you push some hair behind your ear and attempt to look shy, though it's not a huge jump from how you're actually feeling, "I've been meaning to talk to you, before I go back to college."

At your words he raises an eyebrow and slowly brings his hands downwards, palms pressing flat against the dark concrete. You watch as he eases himself up and out from under the truck, and god he's tall - tall and broad and huge compared to you, a fact that sends a little flutter into your belly. He takes a step toward the work bench against the wall, eyes still on you as he reaches down and picks up a rag to wipe his hands, big and wide and streaked with oil. You remember your dream and feel a twinge in your underwear.

"Talk to me about what?" he asks, massaging the rag against his fingers.

You shrug as nonchalantly as you can, taking another step inside his garage, closer to where he stands at the work bench. You cross your legs in an attempt to show them off, stretching your ankle toward a spare tire on the floor and accentuating the sheerness of your black tights, the little run that splits the material at the inside of your knee, the hint of bare skin that peeks out beneath.

"Nothing in particular," you say, keeping your voice soft and steady but doing your best to keep that shy girlishness present, "Just... wanted to." You peer up at him from under your lashes and bite your lip, then reach out your hand for him to take. You say your name.

He assesses your hand but doesn't take it, brow still furrowed. "Joel," he replies, "And I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment. Don't really have time to talk." His voice is cold and gruff, absolutely no sign of interest or attraction - dammit.

"What're you doing?" you ask, tilting your head.

He continues to stare at you blankly, "What does it look like I'm doin'?"

Okaaaay, then.

You shrug again and take another step, turning to look at the wall next to you. Tools line the shelves, wrenches and screwdrivers and the like dangling rather precariously here and there, smeared in motor oil and dust. It's a mess but you'd be willing to bet that it's organized chaos, that he likes it this way.

"What's this?" you ask, pointing to a particularly large object, something that looks like a mixture between a pair of scissors and a wrench.

"Bolt cutters," he supplies you monotonously.

"Ohh," you say with a nod, leaning a bit into the confused pretty girl stereotype and hoping maybe he's a sucker for it, "And what's that?" You point toward a small cylindrical object, black and tactical, only a few inches long.

"You never seen a flashlight before?"

Oh. Right. "Woops," you giggle, "Sorry."

You turn your face to look at him sheepishly and he's still watching you, big arms now crossed against his broad chest - impatient. Well, this is clearly not working either. He's frowning, eyes so focused on your face that you feel almost naked beneath it, like he's staring into your soul. You clear your throat awkwardly and tug your bottom lip between your teeth, breaking your own gaze away from him and trying to find something else to comment on.

"So you've been working on your truck," you state, gesturing toward the vehicle as if only just noticing it was even there, "What's - uh - what's wrong with it?"

He's clearly not buying into whatever the fuck you're even trying to sell. He remains silent, eyes still on you, and suddenly it's like you've never even interacted with a man before - and to be honest, maybe you haven't. Frat boys are certainly not men by any means, and nowhere near in the same league as Joel Miller by a long shot, probably almost triple their age with a dark and mysterious aura that feels almost suffocating. He just stares at you, slightly unnerving, but also seductive in its own way, almost like he's challenging you.

"What do you want?" he asks blankly.

"I-I told you," your voice is already faltering, losing its flirtatious edge the more you realize how dumb of an idea this was, "I just wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah, I got that," he says stiffly, "Why?"

You've already exhausted the avenues you thought might work, which means you've got one last chance before he sends you packing. With bated breath you take the final few steps toward him and - averting your gaze - you reach your hand out to touch his forearm with your fingertips. It's feather light, but you're suddenly very aware of the goosebumps that rise on his freckled flesh, the way the thick hair on his arms seems to stand on end the second your skin touches his. Okay, now we're getting somewhere.

"I think you're handsome," you murmur softly, feeling warmth rush to your cheeks when you realize that it's not a lie. And it really isn't. As your gaze gradually tilts up you catch a glimpse of the hair on his chest, peeking out from under his grey t-shirt. You spot his pecs beneath the fabric of his flannel, see the throbbing veins in his neck, the coarseness of his scruff, the sharp curve of his nose, and those fucking eyes - looking at you with a darkness, a lust, that wasn't there before.

He's not just handsome; he's fucking gorgeous.

"What're you doin'?" he asks you, that gruffness still present but being taken over by something else, something darker.

"Nothing," you breathe, still trailing your fingers along his forearm until they reach its apex and dip into the soft part behind his elbow, damp with sweat. You swallow, throat going dry as you stroke his skin with your thumb.

"Doesn't feel like nothin'," his voice is quieter, matching yours, and he tilts his head slightly as he continues to stare into your eyes, "Why're you really here, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart. The word sends a burst of warmth to your chest, a smile to your lips. You unlock your eyes from his bashfully, watching your own movements as you trail your fingers back down toward his hand and wrap them around one of his fingers, so thick compared to your own. You squeeze gently, biting your lip again as you peer back up at him. Here it is. Moment of truth. You tilt your head up slightly, eyelashes fluttering as you lean forward to connect your lips with his.

Except, they don't connect.

Instead he pulls his hands away from you, brings them upwards and wraps them around your upper arms, squeezing tightly. Your eyes widen, confusion flooding your features.

"Turn around and bend over."

"W-what?" Shock doesn't even begin to describe the ice cold feeling that now makes its way through your body, edged with something else - something you can't explain.

"Turn around," he repeats, his big hands squeezing your arms even tighter - relentless, firm - as he peers down at you with a dark hunger in his eyes, glinting black beneath the fluorescents, "And bend over."

He does not give you another chance to obey - you're too frozen in surprise and confusion to do anything yourself. Instead, he uses the force of his weight on your arms to spin you on the spot, shoving you against the work bench. You feel one of his hands move from your arm to your back, pushing hard until you fold, warm cheek coming to rest against the cold wood.

"Wh-what are you doing?" your voice is meager, weak, and you feel him wrap one of his hands around both your wrists like it's nothing, pinning them against your back like they're simply twigs in his wide palm.

"What you're clearly fuckin' beggin' for," he replies gruffly, and you feel his other hand at your skirt, feel the brush of his fingertips at the hem as he reaches upward to grip the band of your tights. Your eyes widen and instinctively you pull back, pull away - he just pushes you back down.

"I'm not-" you begin, shock quickly being replaced with fear when you realize how easily overpowered you are, how fluidly he's able to tug down your tights and expose your ass to him, clad in only a black thong already lost between your cheeks.

"Oh, you're not, huh?" his voice is cold and stoic, angry, "You think you can play games with me, little girl?" His hand comes to rest against the swell of your behind and you suddenly feel his breath above you, hot in your ear, "Tell me why you're really here."

You try to lift your head up to look at him better but he just shoves you back down again. Panic floods your body, mixed with the unmistakable burn of arousal. You feel yourself twitch in your underwear, feel a sudden gush of warmth spill inside the fabric as he begins to trail his finger up and down the thin line of black cotton.

"I-I'm..." You're at a complete loss for words, unable to articulate anything, unsure of what exactly is happening - or about to happen. Two minutes ago you'd been sure he was about to tell you to leave, practically kick you out of the garage himself, and now you're not sure leaving is even a possibility.

He pulls his hand back and you cry out when it comes down to slap against one of your cheeks, a sharp sting and burn you hadn't been anticipating.

"Tell me why you're here," he repeats - authoritarian, firm.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out except a frightened squeak, something which clearly eggs him on even more. He spanks you again, harder this time, palm flat and wide against your pebbled flesh. The sound that slips past your lips is somehow akin to a moan of some sort, guttural and deep.

"I'll just make it harder and harder, sweetheart," he says then, and the pet name no longer contains the warmth it did mere moments ago; instead it's cold and detached, mocking. You're still reeling when his hand comes down to slap against you again, even harder this time, and your hands ball into fists behind your back as you let out another low moan. More slick gushes into your panties and it's impossible to deny that somehow, despite the fear twinging in your heart, you're so fucking turned on.

"M-my friends," you gasp out, and you feel him squeeze your abused ass cheek which you're sure is already dark with his handprint, "They- they dared me to see how far I c-could get with you."

He lets your words sink in for a moment, squeezing again - tighter, so tight that it hurts. You whimper against the wooden top of the work bench, legs shaking.

"So you came here to get fucked," he finally states.

"N-no, I swear, I-"

"Wasn't a question," he interrupts, and you feel his other hand tighten around your wrists, "You came here to get fucked so you're gonna get fucked, end of story."

"But I-"

Without any warning he suddenly pushes himself up against you from behind, the rough denim of his jeans pressing deliciously up against your exposed skin. You gasp, eyes going wide when you feel the long, thick shape of his dick between your cheeks, huge and hard. He holds it there, his free hand coming down to lay flat beside your head against the work bench.

"You feel that?" he asks, voice suddenly quieter but still full of that ice cold malice, "You feel that cock?"

Fuck. "Y-yes," you breathe, "I feel it."

"You have five seconds before i close this door and stuff you full, understand?" Suddenly all you can hear is the heavy sound of his breathing, the panting of your own, the thud of your heart where it presses painfully against the wood. He's giving you an out.

"I- I-" you swallow, brows furrowing when you feel his hand slacken around your wrists. You could pull away now, yank yourself out of his grasp and sprint down his driveway, return to your friends. Forget this ever even happened.

It's your last chance.

"Five," he begins, breath warm against your face.

Run. Just run.

"Four."

But why?

"Three."

Why don't you want to run?

"Two."

Why do you want to stay?

"One."

He pulls his hand up from the work bench and hits a button on the wall, eliciting a loud mechanical noise to your left as the garage door starts to close. You watch with wide eyes as your chance to leave slowly vanishes inch by inch until it's gone completely, and yet no part of you itches to run, to escape. There's nothing to escape from, you realize. You want to be here. You want him to fuck you.

As the reality of your situation starts to settle, his grip around your wrists tightens once again. You sense him reaching up somewhere above you, and you suddenly feel the harsh texture of what feels like thickly braided rope wrapping around your wrists. The realization that he's restraining you sends another pool of release into your panties, another faint squeak past your lips.

"You gonna stay still for me?" he asks, voice dark and clearer now in the silence of his garage, no sounds of rain or cars to disrupt you, "Huh? You gonna be a good girl?"

"Yes," you breathe, nodding against the wood.

"Say it."

"I'm gonna stay still," you promise, "I'm gonna be a good girl."

He finishes knotting the rope around your wrists, tight and uncomfortable against your skin. He pushes his groin up against your ass again, brings his now free hands downward to reach through your cardigan and squeeze your breasts. Your nipples are hard beneath the soft cotton of your shirt, no bra between the layer of material and your bare skin; he tweaks them in his fingers and you shudder.

"These are mine," he whispers in your ear, scruff nuzzling against the side of your face, "These tits, this ass," he drops his hands from your breasts to squeeze your cheeks again, "and this pussy." His hand drops to the puffy shape of your lips beneath your thong and you whimper. "Understand?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes, what?"

You're not sure what he's asking for, what he wants you to say. You take a guess. "Yes, sir," you whisper, and you feel him smile against your ear. Bingo.

He doesn't bother to pull your tights down the rest of the way; instead, he rips them, pulling them apart in his big hands and reaching inside to curl his index finger around the thin strip of your thong. He pulls it - hard - and it rips from you with a rough tearing sound and a painful sting, eliciting a loud gasp from you which he rewards with another spank.

You feel his finger slip between your lips for a moment, gathering some of your release before he pulls it away. "Juicy fuckin' pussy," he mutters, and you hear the sound of his zipper coming undone, vulgar in the quiet room. You have no time to ask about protection, no time to even really process how quickly this is already happening, before you feel the warm tip of his cock pushing against your twitching hole. You gasp again, hands furling under the ropes.

"Shh," he quiets you, stilling for a second, "Don't squirm."

"Sorry," you whisper, tears pricking in your eyes, "I'm sorry."

"What're you sorry for?" he murmurs, feeding his cock to you in small increments, reveling in the noises falling past your lips. It's so fucking big, bigger than you'd anticipated - it feels like he's spearing you, splitting you in half, especially without much preparation. It stretches and burns, but the warmth of it, the way it pulses as it invades your body, just makes you gush even more. "Hm?" he continues, "What're you sorry for? You sorry for squirmin' or sorry you pissed me off?"

Your eyes roll back as he bottoms out, his pubic hair pressing coarsely against your pussy lips, heavy balls firm to your ass. You try to speak but it's hard to get the words out when you're so full, the wide tip of him pushing into your cervix.

"You a virgin?" he asks you then, voice changing for a moment, like for the briefest of seconds he's wondering whether he should have gone slower.

You shake your head quickly, "N-no," you manage to gasp out.

"Feel like a fuckin' virgin," he grunts, pulling out and then immediately slamming back inside. Your head bumps against the work bench, a groan falling from your mouth as he makes a home inside you. "Christ," he mutters, "Tight little thing. You feel me in your stomach, baby?"

You're not sure he wants you to answer, but it becomes clear when his hand slaps down on your ass cheek again and you cry out.

"Yes," you moan, then quickly amend, "Yes, sir."

"S'what happens when you come in here, actin' like a little slut," he suddenly reaches for your cardigan and yanks it off - it catches on your restrained hands and he simply rips it and tosses it to the floor, "But then again, you're not actin', are you? Huh? What's a slut like you doin' wearin' all these fuckin' layers?"

"I'm s-sorry," you repeat, already mourning the loss of your favorite sweater, now ripped to shreds at your feet.

"Sorry's not good enough, little girl," he breathes, thrusting into you again so hard that you yelp, cheek still pressed into the splintered wood of the work bench, "That's it, fuckin' take it."

He fucks you without any reservations, any inhibitions. Your legs shake and you can hear the slap of his hairy thighs against yours as he pounds into you relentlessly. You have no choice but to take it, the stretch of his huge cock becoming less painful the more he gives it to you over and over, the room full of the wet squelch of your pussy gripping him. He grabs your hips, fingertips digging into your bare flesh as he takes and takes; you wish you could see his face, wish you could see how he looks when he's fucking you, getting his pleasure. The thought makes you whine, tears streaming down your face as your body moves back and forth against the work bench.

It feels fucking amazing. You've never had a cock as big as his before, never been fucked so deep and so hard, like he doesn't care if he breaks you, makes you cry. He hasn't touched your clit and yet you already feel you could come from just this, just the relentless push and pull of his dick inside you. Unfortunately, just as soon as you feel your orgasm starting to build, he pulls out. Your brow furrows.

"Stand up," he orders, "and turn around."

You obey, relief overtaking you as soon as you're no longer bent at such an awkward angle. The moment you turn to face him you barely get a look at his face before he's reaching down and tearing your shirt in half - easily, like it's nothing. You don't even have time to wonder how the hell you're gonna get home with all your clothes ripped to shreds when his mouth is suddenly wrapped around your left nipple, and you whine at the sensation. You peer down at him, biting your lip and watching his wet lips suckle around the hard bud, beard scratching deliciously against your skin. Your hand aches to cup the back of his head but it's still pinned behind your back, tied tight beneath the rope.

"Fuck," you whimper, and his dark gaze flashes up to meet yours as he sucks, the hint of a smirk on his lips when he pulls away.

"Feels good, does it?" he asks, and seeing the words come out of his mouth is somehow more sinful than when you could only hear them, "You like bein' used?"

You nod almost immediately despite never having experienced anything like this in your life - though admittedly you've undeniably wanted to experience this, ached to have somebody take control, tell you what to do, make you do things. It's like you've somehow known subconsciously all summer that Joel Miller could be that person for you, despite never having said two words to him. It was just a feeling, an instinct, and that dream...

"Yeah?" he continues, and suddenly his hand comes up to cup your pussy, thumb finally pressing against your clit. You cry out, tears still trickling down your cheeks. "Said you were in college, right? You take any college dick up here? Be honest now."

You nod again, "Y-yes."

"How many?"

"I... I don't know," you breathe. It's the truth, and you can tell as soon as the words leave your mouth that it does something to him. He presses his thumb harder against your clit, two fingers slipping up inside of you.

"'Course you don't know," he murmurs, pushing them as deep inside as he can, making you whimper, "You wouldn't know, would you?"

Your thighs tighten together - squeezing his hand - and he just smirks again, curving his fingers and making you moan. Your lower back digs into the work bench as he stands, pushes you up against it and peers down into your eyes again with a hunger that's only getting worse. You assess his expression, the pout of his lips as he fucks you with his fingers, the focused lines creased into his forehead. So fucking handsome.

"You're not a good girl," he breathes, nose brushing yours, "Knew it from the day I saw you. You're just made for takin' cock. Am I right?"

"Yes," you whisper, nodding shakily and bumping your lips up toward his - he pulls away again and you can't help but feel disappointed, aching to feel his lips against yours.

"Tonight you're made to take my cock, that clear?" he continues, and you watch as his other hand travels downward to wrap around it - just out of your periphery. He's too close to you, crowded so much in your space that you know he won't like it if you break eye contact. You can tell by his arm movements that he's pumping himself at the same speed he's fucking you with his fingers, inhaling deeply, "I'm gonna ruin you, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not."

"Y-yes sir," you whisper, voice squeaking when he speeds up his fingers and pumps them in and out with fervor, thumb rubbing furiously against your clit. Yet again he brings you almost to the edge and then removes his hand completely, stepping back with a low chuckle when you whimper pathetically.

Your disappointment only lasts a moment because now you can see him, see the girthy length of him that's already been inside of you hanging out of his zipper, glistening with your slick. He's huge, tip dark and intrusive, beads of his own arousal dripping from the slit; your mouth waters. His eyes cast down to where you're looking and he smiles, dark and mocking.

"Never gonna see another dick like this, darlin'," he breathes, "So you better start showin' your appreciation." His eyes glint. "Kneel."

You're practically already on your way to kneeling before he says it, in awe of the sheer girth and shape of him. The second your bare knees hit the cold floor he's crowding you again, hand coming around to hold the back of your head.

"Open wide, baby," he murmurs.

Your jaw drops and he plunges inside your mouth quickly and seamlessly, making you gasp around his length as your eyes widen. You can't breathe, looking up at him with more tears already fogging your vision as he immediately slips into the depths of your throat with no hesitation. You gag, eyes bulging as you attempt to swallow around the intrusion, find your breath, but it's impossible.

"Yeah," he breathes, both of his hands cradling your face and holding you still as he lets his cock sit unmoving in your throat, "Yeah, that's it. That's what you're made for."

He only holds it there for a few seconds but by the time he pulls it out you're gasping for air, coughing and spluttering as tears stream relentlessly down your cheeks. He keeps cradling your face, tuts to himself as you try to get your breath back. The head of his cock bumps softly against your bottom lip.

"Not off to a great start, are we?" he murmurs, "Let's try again."

He pushes his cock past your lips again and you try your hardest not to gag, a little more prepared this time. The pulsing head of his cock situates itself firmly in your throat, the pubic hair at the base tickling your nose while his balls bounce against your chin. You look up at him with pleading eyes, watch as he stares down at you with nothing but malice in his expression, contempt. You're just a hole to him, nothing more.

He pulls out and lets you gasp another breath before he's shoving himself back in, hands moving back to hold your head firmly as he fucks your face. You don't move - you don't need to; he does all the work as he drags your head back and forth along his cock, hitting the back of your throat over and over again until you're gagging and practically sobbing for air. Your knees ache against the concrete floor and you know you'll have bruises tomorrow, know that you probably won't be able to swallow properly for a few days either. Somehow, you don't really care.

When he's gotten his fill he yanks himself out and allows you to catch your breath for a few seconds, throat constricting around nothing while you choke and gasp.

"Stand up," he orders, and even though you're still gasping for air you manage to bring yourself back up, legs shaking. Saliva drips down your chin, drooling from your mouth in long strands, but with your hands tied you can't make any attempt to clean yourself up - he probably wouldn't want you to anyway.

His wide palms are suddenly on your hips, and he picks you up and places you on top of the work bench with minimal effort, arms bulging. You're completely naked now save for your ripped tights while he's still fully clothed, dripping cock still peeking out past his zipper, covered in your saliva. He steps between your legs and pushes your thighs open, then slips inside of you once again in one short push, making you yelp.

"Oh, please," he grumbles, gripping your hips tightly and pulling your bare body taut against him, head hitting his chest, "We both know you can take it."

It's not like you have any other choice at this point. He fucks you harder than he had before, now that he has easier access, can pull you so firmly against him that his entire length is continuously swallowed up entirely by your dripping pussy. His nails dig into your skin as his cock fucks up against your cervix over and over, so relentless it's almost painful. It's overwhelming how huge he is, not just his cock but his body in general, the way he towers over you and watches your expressions as he takes what's now his.

"Poor little thing," he mumbles, bringing one of his hands up to thumb the tears on your face, "Never been so full, huh? It's okay, shhh," his finger finds your lips and pushes against them almost mockingly, like he's chastising you, "Shhh, this is what you asked for, remember? S'what you wanted." You shake your head but he just nods, "Yeah, it is. You wanted that cock and now you're gettin' it."

Suddenly you're being lifted from the workbench, carried in his embrace with his cock still buried deep inside. You cry out, wrists straining against the ropes, itching to wrap your arms around his neck and hold yourself up with more stability. His arms come up to stretch along the expanse of your back, holding you still and pulling you even closer. As if on instinct your legs bend upwards to wrap around his waist, curling around his lower back while he pistons inside of you without restraint, without mercy.

"Fuck," you almost scream, feeling the rough denim of his jeans scratching against your ass, the heaviness of his balls slapping against you over and over again, "Fuckfuckfuck!"

"Yeah, there she is, there's that little slut," he says, a smile spreading across his face, voice somehow calm despite the fact that he's pounding into you over and over, "Nothin' like gettin' fucked stupid to sort ya out, huh? Needed to be punished, didn't you, sweetheart?"

You don't answer, can't answer, eyes rolling back as he fucks you with abandon. Of course it's not a surprise when he lands a hard spank against your ass, grips your cheek tightly in his palm and growls roughly in your ear, "Answer me, little girl."

"Yes," you force yourself to gasp out, head tilting back, "Yes sir, yes."

"S'right," he mutters, and you suddenly feel the pads of his fingers against your clit, rubbing at an aggressively fast pace that sends depraved noises spitting past your lips, "Come on that cock, tighten up that little pussy even more for me, baby, come on."

It only takes seconds for him to make you come, your eyes rolling back as your body shakes and writhes in his grasp. He doesn't slow his movements, keeps fucking you deep and hard as your legs loosen at his waist and you flop like a ragdoll in his arms.

"Chokin' that dick," he murmurs, "Had so many cocks in this little hole and you're still the tightest thing I've fucked," his brow furrows as he watches your face, watches as your eyes flutter open and your jaw slackens, "And what about your other hole, baby?" You feel one of his fingers prod against your asshole, circle the rim as he continues to bounce you up and down, "Ever had a cock in there?"

You tense up a little in his embrace, eyes widening. At your reaction he slows his movements, still holding you upright and allowing you to just sit on his cock for a moment while he continues to prod your asshole, "I'll take that as a no," he mutters, "Think my cock'll fit up there?"

"It won't," you whisper immediately, shaking your head.

He assesses your expression, eyes trailing up and down your face calculatingly, like he's weighing the pros and cons. Your heart stutters in your chest and you feel that fear from earlier slowly begin to creep back into your psyche, hands shaking under the rope.

"I won't," he states, and relief floods through your body; you relax in his embrace, becoming aware again of his cock still buried deep inside you. He very carefully prods the tip of his index finger inside your asshole and your eyes go wide again, mouth opening in protest. "Yet," he amends, smiling coldly at you, "I won't yet. Not today."

He pulls his finger out and walks with you to the work bench again, places you down gentler than before and peers at you with something in his gaze that you can't place, a curiosity that wasn't there before. It's gone in an instant though, and then he's fucking into you again without warning, gripping tight to your hips and slamming back and forth until you see stars.

"You thought this'd be so funny, didn't you?" he growls, looking at you again with that detached contempt, black eyes locked with yours. He brings his hand down and starts rubbing your clit again, not caring that you only just came a moment ago. "Thought you'd come here, have your fun, and leave again. But it's not so funny anymore, is it? Huh? Is it funny?"

"N-no," you gasp out, overstimulated to the point of even more tears as you squirm and writhe on the work bench, pussy aching from the insistent way he's pounding you and the relentless rubbing of his fingers against your clit.

"S'the last time you show up here tellin' lies," he mutters, "Understand me? Any time you come into my house from now on you're gettin' fucked, got it?"

"Y-yes," you cry, hands futilely attempting to ball into fists behind your back, and he shakes his head.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir!" you scream it, and just as the words pass your lips he stills inside of you, cock twitching as he starts to come. Your eyes go wide, mouth dropping open as his hand sends you into another climax just as he reaches his. Your head falls against his chest and you hear him groan above you, feel the way his cock pulsates and throbs and spits his cum in long and heavy spurts. Your thighs twitch and you feel his hand at your back, pulling you in close as he cups the back of your head.

You stay like that for a moment without speaking, your heavy breaths the only sound in the garage other than the rain now pelting heavily against the door. You swear you can hear his heartbeat.

"Good little girl, warmin' my cock," he murmurs in your ear, and you're still catching your breath, eyes closed, sobs wracking from your throat repeatedly. "Full o'me, huh? You feel all that, baby?"

You can only nod against his chest, wrists still straining against the rope as your toes curl somewhere below you and your body continues to shake. His cum settles warmly deep inside and your eyes roll back a bit when he pushes in further, like he's trying to keep it inside for as long as he can.

"Guess I found a new little cum dumpster, huh?" he whispers, carding his fingers through your hair, "I'll have to say thank you to your friends, or -" he pauses thoughtfully for a moment, "maybe I'll just have to send 'em a little message back with you."

You pull your face back from his chest, peering up at him with tired confusion. He reaches down and pulls out one of the drawers of the work bench, coming back up with a sharpie. You watch with fluttering lashes, unable to stop him - and not really wanting to - as he uncaps the marker and pushes your hair out of the way to write something across your chest, the cold tip making you jolt slightly.

"Shh," he murmurs, "It's okay, I'll untie ya in a sec."

It doesn't take him very long to finish writing whatever it is on your skin, and then he's slowly pulling his cock out of you. You whimper at the loss, thighs twitching as you peer down and watch his softening length slip past your hole, followed by a steady stream of his cum. He quickly reaches up and pushes what he can back inside, thumbing it back in carefully while the reality of what's just happened really begins to settle. You just let a man in his fifties tie you up, use you, come inside you, and write on your chest.

"Can't have all that slippin' out yet," he mutters, "Now, what can we use?" His eyes dart up to the shelves above you and he reaches up to grab something; when his hand comes back down you see the pocket flashlight from earlier, see the slightly flared base and know almost immediately what he's planning on using it for.

For some reason - whatever reason it is that you stayed here after he gave you an out, whatever reason you really came here in the first place - you don't protest.

He brings the flashlight downwards and quickly removes his hand from your pussy to replace it with the wide end, slipping it inside with only minimal resistance. You whimper and he hushes you, brushing his nose against yours as he assesses his handiwork.

"That should do it," he murmurs, then peers back up at you and pushes some stray hair out of your face "You keep that in there 'til you get home, okay?" His eyes have softened a bit, looking more similar to the way they did when you first showed up - is this the real him? You honestly have no idea.

You don't say anything, just nod slowly, feeling the anxiety from earlier begin to sink in yet again. How are you going to get home when you have no clothes? How are you going to explain to your friends what happened? How can you tell them - or show them - what you let him do to you?

These questions are clearly none of his concern. You watch as he backs up and gestures for you to stand with him; you do, with beyond shaky legs and the cold metal of the flashlight between your thighs.

"Turn around," he orders.

You feel him untie the rope from your wrists, essentially ending your time here - whatever it even was. It somehow doesn't feel real. You let them hang limply at your sides, feeling embarrassment flood your cheeks as you turn back around to look at him. He's watching you with a smirk, arms crossed - his dick is back in his jeans. He looks no different than he had when you arrived.

"Now get the fuck out," he says, dark eyes glinting once again under the flickering fluorescents, "before I change my mind."

--

The air is still chilly. The road is still wet. But thankfully, there are no cars.

You don't know how you manage to get home without anyone seeing you - hunched over, naked in the darkness, avoiding the streetlights, trying to ignore the ache between your legs and the icy intrusiveness of the flashlight still lodged inside of you - but you do. Your palms are sweaty again, heart pounding at the thought of your friends coming to greet you at the door, for the shock and confusion and screaming to begin - but that doesn't happen.

The moment you're back in the house you pull a jacket down from the coat rack and cover yourself, tiptoeing past the living room and waiting to be accosted by the friends who put you in this situation to begin with. Instead, they're nowhere to be seen. You hear the faint echo of laughter from the kitchen, hear the sounds of glass clattering and a fridge being shut. It's like they've already forgotten you even left, like the game meant nothing, and they've already found something new to entertain them, something better.

As if your futile attempt at getting a kiss on the cheek from Joel Miller is already something lost in the past.

And, you think, as you shakily climb the stairs and creep into the bathroom, tear the jacket from your shoulders and stare at your bare chest in the bathroom mirror, see the dark permanent lines that read TRUTH OR DARE...

Maybe that's how it should be.

[rynbutt]

pierced. pt. 4 | spencer reid.

"Focus here, sweetie."

you can find the other parts on my masterlist.

cw: fem!reader, 18+ content, suggestive as fuck, making out, nipple stuff (my finger slipped), fluff

a/n: this made me feral

He had been gone for weeks. 

You hadn’t seen Spencer in almost four weeks after your little date at his desk. Case after case came through and he and his team were sent all over the country. You came to understand that Spencer’s job was hectic, wondering how any of them had social lives at all with how often they were called into work only to disappear for days or weeks at a time.

Spencer had called you a handful of times while he was in Illinois, telling you all about the UnSub they caught while you were half asleep working late at your desk. But after that, it was radio silence from Spencer and you could only assume he was neck deep in work just like you. 

You sat at your desk, leaning back in your chair with a loud sigh. You were sure your boss had it out for you, given how you were basically the last one in the office trying to finish up a project. You tried to take it as a compliment that they trusted you to handle these things but god you just wanted to go home, pour a glass of wine, put on a face mask and pretend to have your shit together.

The exhaustion made your eyelids feel heavy and your vision blurry. You let out a tired yawn, attempting to blink away the deep desire to crawl under your desk and nap. The sudden buzz of your phone kept you from nodding off at your computer.

Spence: Are you home?

You: Nah, I’m at work, sorry :(

Spence: Still? Isn’t it a bit late?

You: What can I say, I’m an ass-kisser

Spence: Have you had anything to eat?

You: Not yet, I’ll worry about that later

Spencer read your message but didn’t reply. You turned your focus back to your work, sipping on your cold coffee to hopefully bring you back to earth. After forty-five minutes and another two cups of coffee, you finally finished your project. You were in the midst of sending a half-assed email to your project manager when you heard the elevator ding.

“Is Y/N still here?” You heard Spencer’s voice and your heart fluttered.

“Oh yeah, she’s just around the corner,” one of your coworkers replied. You rolled your chair back from your desk, peering around the corner as a lost little Spencer looked around.

“Spencer?” You called softly. His eyes darted to the sound of your voice, his face lighting up at the sight of you. He looked so precious in his sweater, with his messy hair and mismatched colourful socks. He did a little run down the row of cubicles to your desk, holding a plastic bag of what you assumed was takeout. 

You stood up to greet him, the exhaustion suddenly dissipating, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to bring you dinner,” he replied, holding the bag of the best smelling food out for you. 

You pouted at the gesture, “Spencer, you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. As a thank you for bringing me dinner the other week,” he said with a smile. 

“Wait… how did you know where to find me?” You raised a brow at him, staring at him sideways. Spencer’s face went red, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“I’m sure you told me,” he lied.

“You’re a bad liar.”

“Garcia maybe… did some digging,” he replied under his breath, staring at everywhere but you.

You playfully punched his shoulder, “you stalker,” you laughed. 

You pulled another chair over for Spencer, sitting down at your desk and finally pulling your dinner out. You don’t know where Spencer found this food but it was probably the best thing you’d ever eaten… but you also hadn’t fed yourself in 12 hours so maybe your judgement was slightly skewed. 

“When did you get back?” you asked, mouth full of food.

“Two hours and four minutes ago,” Spencer replied, playing with the little Hello Kitty figurines on your desk. 

“Spencer!” you scolded. “You must be exhausted!”

“I’m okay, really,” he quickly said. He let out a breath, shyly avoiding your gaze, “and… I wanted to see you.”

You smiled softly at his confession, reaching over to move some of his messy hair out of his face, “you’re cute.”

“Thank you,” he beamed.

The two of you sat at your desk for another hour as you ate your dinner and finished up your passive-aggressive email to your manager. Spencer helped you clean up your small collection of mugs and carried your bag for you while you cleaned up your desk. You walked to the elevator together, reaching up to gently grasp Spencer’s hand in your own.

“This okay?” You asked.

“Y-yeah, of course,” he replied quickly, feeling his hands going clammy and praying you didn’t notice.

You were lucky you lived within walking distance to your job, it proved to be very convenient for exercise and the price of fuel didn’t murder your already dusty bank account. Spencer opted to drive you home since it was late and he wanted to make sure you were safe. You tried to offer him cash for fuel but he waved you off (you hit twenty dollars in his glove box). 

Spencer pulled up outside your apartment building, the two of you sitting in a comfortable silence for a moment before you spoke, “you… want to come up?”

“Oh… yeah, yeah, sure I can,” Spencer replied nervously, clearing his throat.

“You don’t have to,” you laughed.

“No, no, I want to,” he said quickly, putting his car in park and taking his keys out of the ignition. 

The two of you walked up to your apartment, Tofu rubbing against Spencer’s leg upon his arrival. Spencer was delighted by this revelation (he’d done a lot of research on cats after finding out you had a cat).

“Did you know cats rub up against you like this as a way of putting their scent on you?” Spencer said, running his hand along Tofu’s back, “so other cats know you’re theirs?”

“I didn’t know that,” you lied, of course you knew. But you would never let Spencer stop talking. You shrugged off your coat, tossing it over one of the chairs at your kitchen table. “Make yourself comfy, I’m just gonna go change.”

Spencer watched as you walked to your bedroom, Tofu trotting behind you. He awkwardly shuffled around your apartment, admiring the polaroid photos stuck to your fridge of what he assumed was your friends from your hometown. He smiled softly at how happy you looked. A particular photo of you at a halloween party made his face heat up. You were wearing a white lacy bralette, a white skirt and angel wings. Your friend next to you was dressed like the devil and your other friend dressed as… the Pope?

But that’s not what caught his eye, it was the fact he could clearly see your breasts through your see through top. He could see the little gold studs on either side of your pert nipples, truly juxtaposing the whole angel costume. Spencer had honestly almost forgotten you had your nipples pierced (no he didn’t).

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” you almost scared Spencer out of his skin. He was so distracted by your… assets, he didn’t hear you leave your room.

“Uh, nothing- nothing… just this,” he grabbed the closest thing to him, which happened to be your toaster.

“My… toaster?” your eyes narrowed.

“Yup, love this model,” Spencer nodded, putting your pink toaster back down on the counter. 

You glanced at the polaroids on your fridge, deciding not to embarrass him further, “you want a drink? I have wine, wine and… wine?”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I need to drive home,” Spencer waved you off before shoving his hands in his pockets. Spencer glanced at your outfit, the baby blue tank and grey shorts made a comeback and now he was rethinking the whole ‘wanna come up?’ scheme. 

“How bout a coffee?” you asked.

Spencer gave a tight-lip smile, “Sure.”

You made Spencer his coffee and watched as he almost emptied your sugar jar. You poured yourself a glass of wine before sitting down on your plush couch, patting the spot next to you for Spencer. He sat down next to you, taking a sip of his sugar drink. He looked positively adorable drinking coffee from your Kirby mug.

“You should tell me about your recent case,” you said, tucking your legs under your butt, giving Spencer your undivided attention. 

“...You want to hear about that?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“Duh, of course,” you retorted. “I like listening to you talk, Spencer.”

Spencer’s heart quickened at your genuine words, making him beam internally and his brain turn to mush. Spencer proceeded to tell you about the BAU’s most recent case, a string of seemingly unrelated murders of college students at house parties. Your heart leapt to your throat when Spencer told you how the UnSub started shooting at him and Emily before he was arrested. 

“If you get shot, I’ll be so mad,” you told him after he finished his story.

“Okay, I’ll try not to get shot,” Spencer grinned, “so you won’t get mad.”

“Correct answer,” you nodded, downing the last of your wine. Spencer watched you as you stretched your arms over your head, a yawn pulling from your wine-stained lips. His eyes darted to your blue tank top, one of the thin straps falling off your shoulder. Your apartment was cold and your nipples pressed against the thin fabric of your top.

Spencer reached a hand over, gently lifting the strap of your top back over your shoulder, his warm hands making the hairs on your skin prickle. You glanced up at Spencer as he retracted his hand, quickling reaching your own hand out to grab his wrist.

Spencer stared at you with wide eyes, so beautiful and brown.

“Do you… want to see?” You asked quietly, your voice low.

Spencer looked at you, unsure of what you meant, “See what?”

You smiled, “My piercings,” you clarified.

Spencer felt like he exploded. His cheeks went red at the idea of seeing your breasts and the tiny intimate piercing he had only seen through your shirt and in his mind late at night. Sure, he had seen breasts before but he had never seen yours and that’s what made him nervous. 

“I know you must be curious,” you said after Spencer didn’t reply. Spencer opened his mouth, attempting to form a single coherent thought. “Earth to Spencer?” you sang softly.

“I, uhm-”

“You don’t want to?” You asked.

“No, I do!” He quickly said before the weight of what he said hit him, “Wait, no… Y/N, I like you and I don’t want you to think that I’m only here to see… that,” he gestured vaguely.

You grabbed his hand gently, leaning over to kiss his cheek softly, “I like you too, Spence,” you muttered, his eyes finally meeting yours, “and I don’t think that you’re only here for that, trust me, guys have before and you’re not them.”

Spencer felt jealousy at the thought of other men seeing such an intimate part of you nag at the back of his mind. You watched his expression change, knowing his big genius brain was in overdrive. You reached a hand up to cup his face gently, bringing his attention back to you.

“Focus here, sweetie,” you whispered with a smile.

“Sorry,” Spencer whispered back.

“I don’t have to show you if it makes you uncomfortable-”

“I am curious,” Spencer interrupted, his voice nervous and quiet. You let out an airy laugh at his sweetness and let go of his face, sitting up straight.

Spencer swallowed the painful lump in his throat as you crossed your arms, fingers grasping the hem of your tank top. His eyes never left yours as you lifted the fabric over your heart, your breasts fully on display for him to see.

It took all of Spencer’s courage to glance down.

And god you were perfect.

Your breasts were smooth and soft, your nipples hard against the chilly air of your apartment. If Spencer were any less respectable, he would be drooling. His eyes stared at the gold jewellery threaded through your hard nipples. He had never seen anything quite as attractive as this and he was sure that nipple piercings were the single greatest thing to ever exist.

“...You’re giving me the wrong idea, Spence,” you chuckled after he stayed quiet for several minutes, simply admiring your beauty.

“I-I’m sorry,” he quickly said, “You’re just…”

“Bit weird, you think?”

“Perfect,” he said, looking up at you again. “You’re just… perfect.”

A small smile graced your lips, “Do you… want to touch?”

“I-I’m not very good at… any of this,” Spencer quickly replied, all he wanted to do was impress you and this was sending him spiralling. 

“I don’t care about that, Spencer,” you grabbed his hand, “I like you, I trust you and I want it if you do.”

Spencer kept his eyes on you, “I… Yes. I want to.” He let you guide his hand to your breast. His hand was warm and large, cupping the soft plush skin gently. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt your soft skin, curious and nimble fingers exploring your skin. His thumb came up to touch the cool metal of your piercing, your breath catching in your throat at the feeling, “Sorry,” he quickly said, pulling his hand away.

“No, no, it’s okay… they’re just sensitive. An added perk of nipple piercings,” you replied. Spencer nodded, taking a mental note as his hand reached back out to touch your skin again. 

You wrapped your hand gently around his wrist, catching his attention. Spencer’s beautiful eyes stared into yours and you lost it. Your hands reached out, pulling him in by his tie to plant a hard kiss against his lips. Spencer’s hand cupped the side of your neck, tilting your head back to kiss you deeper. Your hands came to hold the back of his head, fingers tangling in his soft hair.

He pulled away to breathe, thumb stroking over your cheek, “are you okay with this?” he whispered slowly.

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Then so am I.”

That was all the encouragement Spencer needed to kiss you again, pulling you closer until you swung one of your legs over his thighs, straddling his waist as you kissed him. You tasted slightly of wine and sweetness, the smell of your perfume sending him dizzy. Spencer’s hands came down to rest on your waist, his thumbs resting against your ribs. 

“You want to keep going?” You asked breathlessly against his lips.

“I don’t want to stop,” Spencer replied just as breathlessly, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw. You whined softly as one of his hands reached up to grasp your breast again, the pad of his thumb rubbing against your pert nipple. 

“Spencer,” you whined, your hands grasping at the hair on the back of his neck. He planted a kiss on the column of your throat, then another to the small divot of your collarbone, and another to your sternum. His fingers gently pinched your nipple, making you whine softly. “Not good at this, my ass,” you breathed.

“I have an IQ of 187,” Spencer retorted, “I remember a lot.”

“Clearly,” you replied, lifting his head back up to kiss him again.

a/n: i hope everyone is okay with the lack of smut, i just want everyone to feel comfy (i'll totally write it in a future chapter ;) if you want tho)

taglist: @crazycat-ladys-blog @cillsnostalgia @secretly-tumb1r @33-81 @elissanatok @outrunangelss @cultish-corner @666-gothic-bat-666 @evvy96 @littlemarvelstan8 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @meg-black

[awrkive]

PLEASE LET CNBL COUPLE HAVE THEIR SEXTAPE 🤤 i think oc would be down to that idea but i get why jungkook is taking things slow too but my man is a simp fr he would put it in a loop because he’s obsessed with his girlfriend

i got u anon. ive got an ask about it sometime ago abt what miss cnbl!oc feels about digital s*x or film s*x. thought of an idea. this is 2 years after wncl, which is sorta kinda like the sequel of cnbl lols. anyways this is kinda self indulgent and honestly just an excuse to write smut 😭

summary: jungkook can't bear being away from you, and so you give him a solution

w/c: 2k lol

warning/s: consensual filming, unprotected s*x, cre*mpies

Jungkook can get pretty intense during reunions. In fact, intense is an understatement. He absolutely goes fervent, and you can’t blame him when you missed him just as bad too. 

“Ngh– fuck, I miss you so much, baby. I miss you every fucking day,” he groans into your ear, pumping his cock in and out of you at that pace that’s just so right. Not too fast. Not too slow. Just enough to make you keen; to make you grip the sheets behind you so tight. Just enough to not make it hurt when you've already come two times from his mouth and tongue, and another two times from his dick. Consequently, he's already two creampies inside your pussy and it's not even been a full hour.

And just when you thought that he’d be satisfied by the last time, he’s now determined on coaxing a fifth release from you. 

Frankly, you don’t know if you can do it. Sure, there was one time last year when he made you cum seven times in a row – and Jungkook still talks about it like a kid high on sugar, mentions it every now and then, keeps on wanting to do it again sometime – but it’s too bad you can’t keep up with him all of the time. Jungkook’s stamina is high and yours isn’t all that exemplary.

But you do try your best to match it because you love it just as well. You love the feeling of his cum shooting inside your hole, him pushing it back into you in that non-overbearing possessive manner, and how he always tells you you’re such a good girl for taking more and more, just letting him give and give. 

It’s why you encourage him to get you to cum again – because god, you really also missed him so fucking bad. 

He just got back from LA, just arrived at your place five hours ago, and you expected him to sleep the whole night in – not when you know he worked so hard back there. His team just bagged a win, and they’re moving onto semis the next few weeks. 

But Jungkook informed you that he had to leave again in six days – had to train across oceans again with the team. Said that he just begged his coach to get him a one-week vacay when others only got four. 

It’s not unfair when he’s the star player of the team he’s been winning for in the entirety of the last year. Jungkook’s an NBA player who has gained much bigger success and popularity ever since he got drafted, despite being so young and fresh to the scene. 

And sure, he basks in it sometimes – likes the praise, likes the way winning makes him feel. He loves playing for the team. Loves the work that he does. 

But one thing he absolutely fucking loathes about it is that he has to fly off across states for a game, and that means leaving the comfort of your shared apartment – leaving you, not being with you. 

And so you understand greatly why he’s intense during reunions. Because as much as you’re happy with your current lawyering – in your second year now – you also miss those days back in college when you could just have each other every single day. 

“Yes, fuck– oh there, baby, that feels so good…” you moan when he hits a particular spot. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he encloses his hot mouth around your nipple again, alternating on suckling and nipping around it, his other hand fondling your other boob. But again, Jungkook seems to be so on edge right now that you let out an “Ow!” at one harsh bite. 

“Sorry,” Jungkook soothes it with a kiss to the tip, hips still moving against yours, cock going at a steady pace in and out of your pussy. “I just missed you so much, pretty girl. Those calls weren’t enough.” He whispers against your chest, this time lapping at your breasts more gently. 

You reach out for the messy locks that sit atop his head, smiling gently down at him even though he can’t see you. 

“Babe?” 

“Hm?”

“Do you want to take a video?” You ask, still caressing his hair. 

You don’t expect the way his hips stutter after your question. The quickness in which he peels his head away from your tits to look at you with a surprised face after that is almost laughable but that would be mean of you.

“What?” 

“A video. Of us. I dunno… maybe it will do us both good if we have something of us while we’re away from each other.” you shrug nonchalantly. 

You both aren’t strangers to sending nudes to each other or sexting in general. Jungkook sends you videos and pictures of his dick a lot of times – unprovoked and even on a random Tuesday at 2 fucking pm. And you send him your tits and risky pictures of you in crotchless panties when you feel like it. (Like when you’re taking a bath and you're feeling a bit raunchy with the soap suds all over your breasts… Jungkook gets so drunk off the pictures that he fucks you so good once he gets ahold of you in person.)

It used to be just tits but you’ve upgraded to pussy pics… hey, it’s just that you’ve grown more comfortable overtime.

Being with Jungkook for three years now, you can say that you’ve tried a lot of things with sex. But somehow… you’ve never really tried making a sex tape. 

Sure, Jungkook’s brought it up before. Asked you if you were interested in the idea – but you answerwd with an affirmative no. Photos were okay, but videos were off-limits, and Jungkook was completely fine with that. It is your body, and he understands thoroughly the anxiety that you have behind the idea of sexual digital footprint – you’re a woman after all, there’s ultimately danger as a consequence to the very idea. 

It’s not even Jungkook you don’t trust. God, you trust him so much – but it’s this paranoia about imaginary people who are out to get you. 

And so that has always held you back. 

But right now, as you feel Jungkook’s frustration about the long distance thing as much as his love while he drives you up the headboard with his loving, passionate thrusts, you can’t help but think that maybe you can give this a try. 

Filming a sextape, you meant. 

“Are you sure?” Jungkook blinks up at you, eyes wide as it opens and blinks continuously. 

You chuckle. “Yes. Why do you look so surprised?”

Jungkook smiles shyly, and it’s adorable because he’s literally balls deep in you right now. 

“I thought it was no-go.” 

“Please,” you roll your eyes playfully– but you’re soon cut off by a particular thrust. Jungkook knows this too, as he begins peppering kisses all over your jaw, humming to let you know he’s still listening. You stammer a little, but you manage to let out a continuation of your sentence, “I let you put your dick in my ass and spit in my mouth. Nothing is no-go between us at this point.” 

Your joke may not have been the funniest – as it just further riles Jungkook up by the way he suddenly picks up his speec. 

“Oh, fuck, you little minx – you really had to say that, huh?” He emerges from your neck and grabs your jaw – albeit softly. “Get me real fucking hard talking about those.” 

“You can do them to me on camera now.” you say, challenging. And you laugh when you feel him literally freeze. But it’s not as funny anymore when his cock throbs inside of you, and suddenly, you feel the urge to cum again. To release one more time.

He recovers quickly from the shock, though. “Yeah?” 

You gasp when he plunges his cock back into you, only leaving the first half of his length before he enters again. He repeats that motion until your neck is craned back and your eyes are seeing stars. 

“Keep going like that— yes, yes!” You say, starting to get hysterical because you can feel that coil in the pit of your stomach now. 

Just a few more pumps and it will come out anytime soon. 

“You’re so fucking hot and pretty, look at you.” Jungkook sighs, taking a hold of your hips this time so he can hit deeper. And he does hit deeper, alright – that it doesn’t really take too long before you spasm around his length again, your fifth orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks. 

You lie there on the mattress completely lax while Jungkook goes on with a few more erratic trusts until you feel that hot liquid cum shooting straight to your hole. 

The both of you mewl in unison at the sensation, with Jungkook kissing your mouth to bask in the moment.

When he breaks away, he caresses your cheek and plants a sweet peck to the tip of your nose.

“We’re filming the sextape tomorrow but can I take a video of your pussy full of my cum right now?” He asks seriously, and his polite tone – as if he’s requesting something at the White House – makes you laugh again. You're so giggly now that he's back. Go figure.

(How you love him so much.)

“Okay.” you say, and you watch as his eyes widen, cock twitching inside your pussy that he still hasn’t pulled out from you yet.

“Fuck, you’re the fucking best.” He says as he picks up his phone from the nightstand. 

Turning it sideways, he grips the device with his left hand, turning the camera to your body. 

“Just make sure it doesn’t pick up my face, okay?” You say, but nonetheless enjoy the sight of his hooded eyes roaming around your naked body like he’s high on it. 

“I know. I’ll do that.” Jungkook murmurs, but you know he’s distracted, especially when you finally get to see the sudden shift in position where he’s kneeling on his calf now in between your spread legs. “Open wider for me, baby, let the camera see how full you are with my cock and cum.” 

You hiss at that, and you let Jungkook guide your thigh with his free hand as he helps you spread the two of them wider.

“Hold them for me, princess, just a min.” Jungkook says, folding your knees until they’re all up in your chest. With his help, you relax in that position, waiting for what he does next. “Good. Good girl. Always so behaved…” he trails off, and slowly, he slides out his cock from your heat. 

Jungkook thinks your face is the most beautiful he’s ever seen and your pussy stuffed, leaking with his cum is a close second. 

“Fuck.” He whispers, making sure the camera captures just how white your pussy is now with his thick cum – a product of five straight orgasms he’d coaxed out from you. He wants to highlight the way your pussy throbs, but sadly with the bad lighting and him using a phone camera, he can’t. 

Still, he relishes in the high of seeing you bare like this. With the tip of his cock just right beside your pussy, he slides the crown back to gather all the cum that dripped out, pushing it back into you. 

There's an overspill that coats his dick as well, and it’s making him feel things. Like his cock getting hard again even though he just came the second time. 

“Oh, Jungkook…” You sigh out, feeling overstimulated now. But as you look at his face, completely distracted, you enjoy the view instead. “You like that, baby?” You ask meekly, thinking that maybe he’d like that when he watches this again. 

“So fucking much, you have no fucking idea.” Jungkook huffs. “You’re so full already but there’s still so much leaking out.” 

“That’s all of you, Jungkook,” You say sweetly. 

“Hm. I know… shit… I just wanna do this everyday.” 

“Film is?” You snort. 

“Fucking you… being with you. I was going crazy in my hotel room at LA. Just wanna be with you all the time.” He laments. Jungkook presses on the phone and suddenly, he puts it back on the nightstand. 

“Awe. Poor baby.” You respond, tapping his forearm, putting your legs down while Jungkook soothes your thighs with gentle rubbing. 

You thought he’s done for the night, but suddenly, he says, “Angel, I may have lied. Can we film the sextape tonight, please?” 

You laugh. Again. And Jungkook just falls down your body, snuggles close to your chest as you instantly play with his hair. 

“Alright.” You say, craning your neck down to press a kiss on the crown of his head. 

[egoistars]

REASONS WHY SAE ITOSHI THINKS YOU'RE A MURDERER

you're kinda fucked up but not a criminal! but don't worry, sae kinda likes it

happy late birthday sae itoshi ur a cunt i love u

THE APARTMENT

The first time Sae meets you is at Aiku’s birthday party. He hadn’t intended on going, but it was either going to the function or have Oliver and the rest of the U-20 team get on his ass for being a no-show. Both options sucked, but Sae ultimately decided on wearing some plain, black button-up and one of the five identical black slacks he owns (they were bought at the same time, Sae doesn’t know why he did that but he had an urge and he had the money). When Aiku opened the door to apartment 408, the first thing Sae noticed was you, still dressed in creased and suspiciously stained pajamas, dragging a black garbage bag across the floor. He made the wrong decision, Sae concluded.

It was at the party where he got formally introduced and learned your name. He expected to forget it but that night, he found himself searching it on Google, making sure you weren’t a criminal just to sleep without worries. Before drifting off, he swore he saw a search recommendation as “...’s victims” but he’d rather not go to practice the next morning with the heebie jeebies.

THE DEPARTMENT STORE

A shelf of pots stood in front of Sae, each one lined perfectly with each other as a row of pans hung from above. Sae ran his fingers across the handle of a black stainless steel pan, feeling the cold metal glide across the rough calluses of his fingertips. Ever since he landed in Japan and moved out of his parents’ place, his diet was lacking and blasphemous for an athlete of his caliber. The culinary skills he had acquired in Spain were put to waste in his apartment that looked more like a rent listing.

“Oh, Itoshi? Good morning!” At the sound of his name, Sae shut his eyes and inwardly groaned. The last thing he needed to deal with was a fan approaching him in public but the recognition of an oddly familiar voice urged him to take a slight glance at whom it may be. In the corner of his eye, there stood you, holding the largest butcher’s knife he had ever seen in his eighteen years of living.

The blade was the size of your head, reflecting the beaming smile on your face, one too bright for your menacing stance. Your eyes glimmered underneath the department store’s white lights as you grabbed the handle of the weapon with both hands after rapidly waving. Sae’s heartbeat intensified and he placed the reason for the imminent threat before him—there could be no other definitely more rational reason.

Sae grumbled back a “good morning” before walking off with a sturdy saute pan. He could not answer if it was out of fear, to be polite, or maybe a secret (and evil) third option.

THE ATTEMPT

Hot steam had fogged the mirrors of Sae’s bathroom when he stepped out of the shower. As he dried his hair, the screen of his phone lit up with a new notification. Recently, the only phone alerts he had been getting were from his manager and occasionally his parents. It wasn’t that Sae Itoshi was a loser—he just hated almost everyone in his contacts. But when he opened his phone to an unknown number, his brows furrowed in confusion.

YOU: hi its y/n!!! oliver gave me ur number hope u dont mind ^_^

SAE: <thumbs up>

YOU: thumbs are my fav finger by far they look so chewy

SAE: Wtf

YOU: do u wanna get lunch together tmrw :D

SAE: Ok

SAE: Why tomorrow

YOU: I know what your entire schedule is.

YOU: Meet me at my apartment at 12:00 PM

YOU: Do not be late.

SAE: <thumbs up>

Sae looked out of his window and made sure all his doors were locked before going to bed (but he also stood in front of the full-body mirror in his room, holding different shirts and pants up to himself, wondering what you would like to see).

THE ATTACK

Apartment 408 smelled strongly of herbs and spices when you opened the door for Sae. The cologne he had put on that morning would be overpowered by your cooking and he’d drive home reeking of a hearty lunch rather than designer fragrance. On the kitchen island, a pot of stew rested on a large coaster as a rice cooker was set to “Keep Warm” on the counter. The strong aroma was delightful to his senses and the slight rumbling of his stomach led him to sit and quietly thank you for cooking.

“What do you want to drink? I got all kinds of tea and beer ‘cause Oliver is kinda an alcoholic,” you ask, holding the refrigerator door open waiting for him.

“Water is fine, thanks.”

You grab a pitcher and glass for him then move back to the dishwater for plates and utensils. Before sitting, you untie your light blue apron and fold it next to the kitchen sink. If Sae were any other person, he would almost miss the suspicious red stain in the inside of the pocket but considering the two of you were in an environment with several potential weapons in the vicinity, Sae decided keeping quiet was the smartest choice.

“I hope you like beef stew, Oliver says it’s the least potent thing I make and would have the best impression on you,” you confess. “Help yourself, I don’t think I put anything lethal in it.”

“Don’t think?” Sae questions with a raised eyebrow.

“Who knows with all the chemistry shit that happens, maybe I made mustard gas without knowing…”

“You invited me over, shouldn’t you care more about the guest’s safety?”

“Not really, it’s more exciting this way. Aren’t you feeling a thrill right now?”

“I’m only feeling concern for myself.”

“Isn’t that so fun?” you inquire with too much glee for the predicament. Sae thinks you’re 100% fucked up in the head and thinks he has around a 80% of making it out alive. “It’s like Russian Roulette!”

"Haven’t you considered that the average person doesn’t want to die from poisoning?”

“Who said you would die?”

“You?”

“Oh. Whoops. Still exciting though! Let’s see who wins!”

It didn’t take long for Sae to finish the last of his meal—it was unfortunately tasty. Sae wiped his mouth clean with a napkin you gave him and brought his dishes to the sink.

“Guess you didn’t kill me,” Sae nudges you with a smug grin. “You should try harder next time.”

“Wait—next time?”

“Yeah. Try again text week, I’ll text you my schedule.”

“Thank you so much for that, you don’t know how much I had to spend to get this week’s schedule from a stalker fan,” you confess in relief, blissfully unaware of Sae rapidly turning his head to stare at you.

“You what?”

“You’re literally the best; rent’s coming up so I really need that.”

Sae concludes you’re a danger to society but to keep himself and the public safe, he has to see you again. Sitting in his car, he quickly pulls out his phone and sends his manager a text to keep Tuesday of next week free—that’s when you have the most time (to spend with him). He puts the date in his calendar and this time, turns the notification on.

[unequivocallyreid]

Do You Get It Yet?

hi guys!! this is one day late, but i literally fell asleep trying to proof read last night, so… you win some you lose some.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: Spencer Reid is your professor and you really, really need help. If only he wasn’t so distracting.

warnings: smut, little bit of fluff, professor/student relationship, unprotected sex w/ talk of contraceptives, age gap (both parties of age), breeding kink, choking, and some light degradation

this is a fun one guys! let me know what you think!

You swear you aren’t stupid. Really, honestly you aren’t. You’ve done well in school your whole life, not always outstanding, but you’ve always done well.

Right now however, you feel completely dumb. You’re in you third year of university, and up to this point, you’ve done good. Your classes are challenging but rewarding, and you have a wonderful group of people in your life. You have a cat and an apartment to yourself. You have wonderful friends, Lena and Eden, who’ve been with you since your freshman year and who you loved like sisters. Everything in your life was going right, except for your stupid, stupid criminal psychology class.

You should love it. You’ve taken classes like it before and they really weren’t a problem for you, but for whatever reason, you can’t wrap your head around the subject matter at all. Everything you learn seems to morph together and you can’t get it to sort itself out. Your teacher, Dr. Reid, is incredible. He is a genuine genius, member of the BAU (your dream job), and to top it off, he is incredibly attractive. Not just to you either! Half the class is auditing, which probably contributes to your troubles. It’s hard to focus when everyone around you is constantly whispering about how fucking hot the teacher is.

You try to avoid it. You sit at the front of the room, not the first row, but still front and center. Even so, right behind you are two or three girls who will not stop talking about him. Sure, they’re saying what you’re thinking, but good god does it get annoying. You’ve tried pointed looks, a few aggressive hair flips and humphs, and even a few well timed shushings, but they will not let up. You’d move seats but the class is full and everyone has seemed to have already found a place.

So, really, your lack of understanding was not only on you. Dr. Reid us distractingly hot, the girls behind you will not shut up, and the subject matter is just plain tricky. All of this leads you to spend a big chunk of your free time in your professors office hours, which always seem to be full.

You get it. Girls, and some boys, show up looking their best and asking all sorts of questions, and honestly if you were in a different position you’d probably do the same thing. But, you aren’t, and you really need help. You go to his room completely disheveled with a notebook full of questions that for the most part stayed unanswered. You’re lucky to get five minutes of his undivided attention. Again, you get it, those minutes are the highlights of you week, but, your grade is starting to slip.

Finally, it gets to be too much, and you find yourself spending nearly the whole class building up the courage to ask to speak with him privately. Right when he concludes his lecture you spring up out of your seat and go straight to him, surely annoying some of your other classmates.

“Dr. Reid?”

He looks up from his desk, “Hi! Ms.?”

“Y/n. Or Y/l/n, I guess. I was hoping to talk to you privately if you had time?”

“Oh! Um, sure, of course. Let me just wrap up here. You can wait in the seats.”

This has already gone better than you thought it would. Half of you expected the only thing that would come out of your mouth would be gibberish.

“Thank you so much.”

You hurry off to take a seat and wait, and wait, and wait. Around five other people stay around to try and speak with him, and while you catch him anxiously glancing over at you, each conversation still seems to stretch on and on. Finally, after close to 15 minutes, the final student leaves and it’s just you and Dr. Reid left in the room.

He looks over at you and motions for you to join him at his desk, “I’m so sorry that took so long. People tend to have a lot of questions after my lectures.”

You take a seat in front of him, “It’s no worries. That was actually part of what I wanted to speak to you about.”

You pause, wondering how you should word what you want to say. He looks at you, waiting for you to go on, but he doesn’t seem impatient.

“I’ve come to all your office hours, and it helps, I’m just still struggling and I, uh, I just feel like it’s not enough time to get my questions answered, I guess?”

You’re looking at anything but him at this point, “I’m sorry I’m just kinda out of my element. I love this subject and normally it clicks for me, but it’s just won’t. I have a notebook full of questions and I’m worried I won’t be able to figure anything out. Sorry, I think I’m just rambling at this point.”

“No, don’t apologize, I understand. This class is challenging, and a lot of the subject matter is hard to research.”

He stops to laugh, “My office hours do tend to be pretty full. I’m, well to be honest I’m not sure why. A lot of the questions people have tend to be things I explained in my lectures.”

Without thinking, you cut him off, “I think people just want to be around you.”

He looks surprised at your words, and you are as well. You didn’t mean to say that at all.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. It’s just with a teacher that looks like you, god, no. I mean with a teacher like you-“

Your cheeks grow hotter by the second, “You know what, I think I can figure this out on my own! I’m sorry for-“

He stops you before you can finish, “Y/n, I’ve taught this class before. Half the people are auditing. I’ve gathered what that means.”

He cracks a smile at that and you feel your heart flutter.

“I meant I’m not sure why people would waste their time trying to, uh, impress me at office hours. They’re meant for students like you.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

“Unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do on that front. My hours are open to anyone.”

Your shoulders deflate a bit at that, worrying you’ve wasted your time and his for nothing. He doesn’t let you stay like that for long though.

“I want to help you though. Truly. I know reaching out for help is hard and I’m glad you did.”

You look up at him then, “I can set aside some time for you once a week if you’re comfortable? We can review everything you’re not sure on until you’re up to speed.”

You were not expecting that. You thought he’d look over your questions and give you some articles and journals to review at best.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“You aren’t. I’m offering, Y/n.”

“Then I think yes, I’d like that a lot.”

“Great! Email me some times that work for you and we’ll get started.”

~

This is all, admittedly, a bit above your pay grade.

Despite your best efforts, you are not a chill girl. You’re not very cool. There’s nothing wrong with that usually! You’re shy, but still manage to talk people’s ear off. It’s normally a non-issue: that’s just how you are. Today however, you are meeting with Dr. Reid and you are so not chill about it.

You had his class yesterday, and while you feel better knowing you’ll finally have help, you couldn’t focus on anything but today, so you retained nothing. All you can think about is saying something stupid or off putting and having him start to despise you.

You know you shouldn’t worry this much. He’s a professional, you’re trying to be, it should all go smoothly. They’re just the issue of the colony of butterflies who have taken up residence in your stomach. You’re nervous, so nervous, and you are not the type to get this crazy over some guy. Yes, Dr. Reid is probably the hottest person you’ve ever met, but he’s still human! You think… the fact that he’s some sort of super genius with multiple (multiple!) phds does not help to calm you.

Your entire walk to Dr. Reid’s office is spent worrying over all of this. In fact, you’re so caught in your head you find yourself barreling into someone’s back as you walk through the door of the psychology department.

You rush to squeak out an apology while picking up your notebook, but are stopped short when you look up. It’s Dr. Reid. Of course it’s Dr. Reid. You seem unable to be in the same vicinity of him without making a fool of yourself, so why would today be any different. You’d hoped to be able to manage yourself for the better part of an hour, but your professors unbelievably solid back has literally knocked you on your ass.

You do notice a ghost of a smile on his face when you look up, and you’d like to think he’s admiring you clumsiness, but it’s not likely.

“Hi,” you manage to say after a near excruciatingly long silence.

“I’m really sorry, I clearly wasn’t looking at where I was walking.”

He laughs a bit, “It’s no problem honestly. You were the one knocked off your feet, so I really can’t be upset aside from the fact you may have hurt yourself.”

This makes you breath hitch a bit. Maybe you are incredibly starved for attention from the male gender, but the slight affection of his words made you blush.

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

If you were any more articulate you’d be a public speaker, but at least you always seem to make the man in front of you laugh.

“I was on my way to my office to meet with you, but since I already have, you can walk with me.”

You nod, pushing yourself off the ground, then blush again when you realize you had this entire conversation on the ground.

The walk is silent, and you’re sure it’s more uncomfortable for you than it is for him. Any question you had has completely exited your mind, and all you can think about is how good he looks in a suit, and how much staring you can reasonably get away with.

Your first session is sweet. You manage to hold it together in Dr. Reid’s presence. He is incredibly helpful one on one, and you feel more confident about the class than you have in weeks. Before you finish, he asks if you’d like to meet again.

“Yeah, if that’s alright. This helped so much, but I think I still probably need to do some more catch up work.”

“That’s perfectly fine, Y/n, I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

He pauses for a moment, like he’s considering something, before going on.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to give you my cell. I want you to be able to reach me if you need to reschedule, especially if we continue meeting, and it’s a bit easier than email.”

You’re a bit stunned but manage to reply, “Of course! But, um, is that allowed? I don’t want to over step.”

He looks away from you for a moment before replying, “I’m honestly not sure. Maybe we just don’t tell anyone?”

You have to bite back a grin, but you nod nonetheless and exchange numbers.

Although you know you shouldn’t be, you’re giddy the entire walk home.

~

So far, you’ve met with Dr. Reid three times and haven’t had to use his number once. Not that you’d been looking for an opportunity to though! It just hasn’t come up at all until today.

It’s been raining all morning, which normally you wouldn’t mind, but you’re slightly under the weather and the thought of walking to campus and risking getting more sick doesn’t sound appealing in the slightest. Though it’s not normally an issue, moments like this make you really wish you had a car.

You’ve asked everyone you knew for a ride, but they were all busy.

Currently, you were on the phone with Lena, listening as she tries to calm you down.

“He gave you his number, Y/n. Just text him and say you’re sick and can’t make it.”

“It’s the day of though! I don’t want to come off as unprofessional.”

“Babe, again, you have his number. Your relationship isn’t exactly the most profesh in the first place.”

“It’s not like that, Lena.”

“Just text him. Over explain everything like you know you want to. He’ll probably think it’s cute, maybe he’ll even offer to come take care of you.”

You can hear the teasing lilt in her voice, but, still, you rush to defend him.

“You know it’s not like that.”

“Whatever you say, babe. I gotta go, but text him. It’ll be fine.”

You say your goodbyes, and deep down you know she’s right. About texting him, not the shy sort of seduction act she thinks you have.

After contemplating for a few more minutes, you type out your message and hit send.

You: Hi, Dr. Reid. This is Y/n from your criminal psych class. I know we’re supposed to meet today, but I’m feeling like I have a bit of a cold coming on and don’t want to risk walking in the rain.

You: I’m sorry it’s late notice, if I could get there I would, scout’s honor.

You were never in girl scouts. You don’t actually know why you said that at all, but it’s too late to take it back now.

As much as you try not to, you watch your phone screen, waiting for a response.

Luckily, you don’t have to wait long. You see a typing bubble pop up, then disappear, then pop up again, before finally two messages come through.

Dr. Reid: I completely understand. Don’t worry.

Dr. Reid: I could come to you? If you’re comfortable.

When you read that, you feel your stomach drop to your ass. You decidedly not expect him to offer anything like that. A few things fly through your mind, but mainly that Lena may have been right, and having your professor come to your apartment is, at least, frowned up by admin. Still, the image of him in front of you, in your home, with your cat, is too much to resist.

With shaking fingers, you text him back.

You: That would be wonderful if you’re sure you’re okay with it.

You: Friendly warning, I have a very affectionate cat.

Dr. Reid: Good to know. Is 4 still alright?

You shoot him back a quick yes and your address, and then get to cleaning every square inch of your apartment.

~

Dr. Reid is an angel on Earth.

When you hear a knock at your door, you have to stop before answering to regulate your breathing. When you finally do, you see your professor in front of you in a cardigan (a fucking cardigan) and togo cup of tea that he immediately hands to you.

It’s all like a hopeless romantics wet dream. Hot professor, in the rain, at your house, who clearly cares about you in some way? It’s like he’s trying to kill you.

You step aside to let him in and move to your couch, “You really didn’t have to do this.”

He stands for a moment before sitting at the opposite end and saying through a laugh,“The tea or coming over?”

“Both, I guess? I just feel bad that Ive take up so much of your time. I feel like a bit of an inconvenience.”

“Y/n, please stop worrying so much over this. I want to help you learn, it’s not an inconvenience or a both or unnecessary.”

You really look at him then, trying to read whether or not he’s being genuinely. He just seems too good to be true, like he’s a fiction character made just for you. Well, not just for you, but in your fantasies that’s how you’ll think about it.

The next couple hours are spent reviewing material you are sure he taught weeks ago and stealing glancing at his mouth when you are sure he is not looking. Your kitty makes a few appearances too, and seems to have formed an instant attachment to the doctor. You are not as sly with your staring as you’d like to think, and get caught a few too many times. Honestly, you are trying desperately not to think about anything but academia, but he makes it so unbelievably hard. Not to put the blame on him for your insatiability, but jesus fuck. Intelligence has always been incredibly sexy to you, and it oozes from him

Despite the distraction, you’ve been doing good in terms of building your understanding. Now however, you are on the verge of tears, chocking down a knot in your throat as you try to make sense of anything coming out of Dr. Reid’s mouth. This has to be the third time he’d tried to explain it to you, and while this is the entire point of these meetings, you feel like a failure.

The doctor is lost in his own world, trying desperately to explain the concept in a digestible way, so he doesn’t notice your state. That is, until you sniffle, just slightly, and immediately avert your gaze.

He cuts himself off, “Y/n? Are, are you okay? What’s wrong.”

It’s too much, so too much. What kind of dick asks something like that, with that much care in his voice. You can’t help the tears starting to fall.

“I’m so sorry. I just, I can’t understand it.”

He looks at you with his beautiful eyes and says, “Y/n, it’s okay-“

“No. God, you must think I’m a fucking idiot. No, not fucking, I didn’t mean to say fuck in front of you. God this is terrible.”

You’re fully crying at this point, and you can’t bear to look at Dr. Reid.

He stays silent for a moment, before you feel movement on the couch and look up to see he is much closer to you.

“You’re incredibly intelligent, Y/n. I, I would never judge you for needing help.”

You bury your face in your palms, and, very eloquently, try to speak through them.

“Sir, you really don’t need to say that. I know I should have been able to grasp this weeks ago, all of this.”

“Spencer.”

You look up, “What?”

“My name is Spencer. You don’t have to call me sir or Dr. Reid. I’d like for you to call me Spencer.”

“Well, Spencer then. I’m sorry for wasting your time. I really don’t know why I thought any of this would help, clearly there’s something seriously wrong with-“

You’re cut off by a hand on your jaw, guiding you to look up. Dr. Reid’s hand. Spencer’s hand, and it’s gentle and he’s staring at you, and you feel like your skin is on fire underneath his palm.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Y/n. You’re one of the most capable, intelligent people I’ve ever met. I’m breaking nearly 20 different codes of contact by being here, but I can’t help it.”

You feel all your words caught in your throat, and all you can fucking think about is his hand and his eyes and his lips. You don’t know what else to do, so, in an act of unusual bravery, you push forward and press your lips to his.

The response is immediate. All thoughts in your head are gone and replaced by a mantra of Spencer’s name. You feel his hands move to the nape of your neck, holding you to him, and his lips pressing yours open so he can glide his tongue over yours. You’re breathless and ruined, and when he pulls back you’re too struck by him to speak.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Y/n. I’ve never wanted anyone like this before”

Your forehead is pressed to his and you breath out, “Show me.”

The hand on you tightens its grip, but the man before you pulls back a bit, and it becomes your only point of contact.

“I, I can’t. I’m your teacher, I’m nearly 20 years older than you. I shouldn’t have even kissed you.”

“I kissed you. I want you, this. I want whatever you’ll give me.”

“It’s wrong, Y/n.”

“I don’t care. I want you, Spencer.”

Hearing you say his name must break his resolve, because in a moment his lips find yours again, and he’s pulling you into his lap.

To recap, you’re in your home, on your couch, straddling the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and his lips are trailing down your neck and over your clavicle. You put your arms around his neck, threading your hands through his hair and experimentally rolling your hips against his.

His hands grab your hips, stilling your movement, and breaks from his assault on your neck to say, “I won’t be able to control myself if you do that, Y/n. I need to know what you want.”

“I want all of it, doctor.”

The honorific must do something for him, because he growls low in his throat before once again connecting with your lips. The same hands that just stilled your movement now guide your hips to press into him harder. You feel his length beneath you and moan into his mouth.

You’d fantasized about this for months, but now it’s actually happening and it’s so much better than you could have ever imagined. You feel him every where, and he knows exactly what to do and whisper in your ear to drive you fucking crazy.

You move your hands from his hair and break from his lips to pull your shirt off. You make eye contact with him and then reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, leaving that part of yourself entirely exposed to him.

“Fuck, Y/n.”

The expletive takes you by surprise for a moment, but you snap out of it quickly, taking one of his hands and bringing it to your chest. He moves quickly from that point, cupping your breast in his hand and toying with your nipple. Your lips find his again, and you feel him move to flip you, but you stop him before he can.

“Bedroom, Spencer. Please.”

He nods and you climb from his lap. On your way to the room, he discards his shirt. You can’t help but ogle his frame. He’s slender and sinewy, but you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. The angles and curves of his frame fit

together to create the perfect portrait of a man. He has scars littered over his arms and torso, but they don’t phase you.

You’re under him on the bed now, your core raising to meet his desperately.

“You’re so beautiful. So beautiful, I’m so lucky.”

His words cause a blush to form on your cheeks, which you can barely focus on as his hands are in the process of pulling your shorts and panties down your legs.

“God, Y/n, you’re soaked.”

You whine as his fingers make contact with where you need him most.

“Is this all for me, Y/n? Tell me.”

“You. Only you.”

“Jesus, Y/n.”

If someone had asked hours ago you what you thought your professor would be like in bed, this was the last thing you would’ve said. Not that anyone would ask… but still. He’s nerdy and adorable, and while his looks are literally to die for, he doesn’t scream ‘I’m gonna fuck your brains out’.

His fingers pick up their pace on your clit as you find yourself trying to undo his belt. You’re desperate to see him as bare as you are. He stops to help you get his pants down, and when you see him in his full glory you feel a little faint.

“You’re so big.”

He lets a little whine slip through, “Yeah? Biggest you’ve had?”

You blush a little at his tone. As much as you’re trying to fake it, you don’t have as much experience in this field as one might expect for a girl your age.

“I’ve only been with one other person, so yeah.”

Your candor is decidedly not sexy, and you really have no clue why you would say that right now. The man above you does not seem deterred though, if anything it spurs him on.

“Fuck, Y/n. Didn’t know you were so innocent.”

You blush again, but reach to grab him, trying to prove how good you can be. He’s heavy in your hand, and part of you worries how he’ll fit. You know you’re programmed to accommodate, but the thought is daunting.

He must sense your concern when he says, “Don’t worry, love. Gonna stretch you out for me.”

With that, his fingers resume their previous task, and he slowly moves down to trace your entrance with his middle finger. The sensation has you spinning, and let breathless moans leave your body he slowly starts to open you up. His fingers are long and precise in their movements. Every time he thrusts into you, they graze a spot that sends sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

“You’re doing so good for me, Y/n. So, so good for me.”

You can barely breathe, and your climax comes closer with every passing second. When his thumb moves to press over your clit and his other hand presses firmly on your lower stomach, you’re done for.

“Good girl, Y/n. Coming so pretty on my hand.”

Your orgasm is stupefying, and all you can think or say is Spencer’s name. You grab at him, desperate to find something to ground you, and you hear him moan as your nails dig into his back. He doesn’t stop for a moment, continuing to press into you and riding you through your high.

Once you come down, though you can still feel your legs shaking, you want more. You want all of him. You take him in your hand again, pumping up and down his shaft at a lazy pace.

“Spencer, I need you to fuck me.”

He laughs, his hand still on your core, “Ask nicely, Y/n. You come on my fingers and all of a sudden your manners disappear?“

You didn’t want to admit it, but he’s right.

“Please, Spencer. Please fuck me, I need it.”

“Good girl,” he takes your wrist and leads your hand to your mouth. “Spit.”

You aren’t exactly sure what he’s doing. You think he might be teasing you more, letting you work him over until you beg, but he answers all your questions quickly.

He guide your hand back to grab him, helping you jerk him off before he grabs himself and lines up with your entrance.

In his first Dr. Reid like moment in the last hour he stops and asks, “Fuck do you have a condom? I obviously didn’t think we’d do this, so I don’t have anything on me.”

You’re panting with anticipation at this point, but still manage to get out, “I’m on the pill and I’m clean. I trust you.”

His eyes go soft for a moment, before he continues his previous mission. He lines up again with you, before teasing your slit with the head of his cock. If you didn’t want him so bad, you could’ve come like this, but you are desperate. You push your hips up, hoping he gets the point, and he does.

“I could play with you all day if you’d let me, Y/n.”

You want to protest, and tell him to get on with it, but you don’t have to. You feel his tip

slowly pushing into you as he lets out a groan.

“You’re so fucking tight.”

He’s slow and careful, and you can’t remember sex ever feeling this good. You know he isn’t all the way in, but you already feel so full. When he does reach the hilt, you let out a low moan at the feeling. He’s completely inside of you, filling you in a way that is unbelievably good. He stays still for a moment before slowly pulling back and thrusting into you.

You can tell he’s being gentle, but hard enough and fast enough to have your legs start shaking more heavily again. You already feel a pit in your stomach, and you know you’re going to come, for a second time, embarrassingly fast.

“Fuck yes. So good for me, Y/n.”

The way your name sounds in his mouth drives you crazy. The only thing you can think about is how badly you want this moment to go on forever. Everything about him is perfect. Even now, while fucking your brains out (literally, you could make yourself say a word even if you wanted to), he’s cupping your head in his hand and telling you how beautiful you are.

Now that you’re more accustomed to the size of him, he takes your thigh, pushing it up to your chest, and starts too fuck into you faster and harder. His pelvis rubs over your clit with every thrust, driving you crazy. Your hands are in his hair and down his back, grabbing and clawing at him.

“You love taking this cock, huh baby? Can’t even talk, huh?”

His words go straight to your core, but you know what you need to come again. You guide his hand up near your sternum and manage to cry out a few words.

“Please, need it. Need you.”

He takes your request to heart and moves his hand to your neck, squeezing the sides. You feel yourself get light headed in the most incredible way. Tears are forming in your eyes. The feeling is so intense.

“So perfect for me. Such a smart girl and you’re just gonna let me fuck you dumb?”

You’re close, and you can feel the pit in your stomach start to spread and take over. Spencer’s hand on your throat tightens slightly, and it only take a few more thrusts before you’re coming on him.

“Coming. Fuck, Spence you’re making me come.”

“That’s right. Come all over me. Show me how good I make you feel.”

Your vision is going white at the edges and you feel like your whole body is shaking.

“Fuck, gonna come just watching you. Gotta pull out, baby.”

You grab him before he can, “No! Want it inside me.”

He groans above you and you feel his hips stutter.

“Fucking Jesus. Want me to fill you? Make this you mine?”

You nod, the tears now falling down the sides of your face.

“Gonna come, baby.”

You can feel when he does. His dick is pulsing in you, filling you completely, just like he said he would.

When he comes down, he pushes his lips to yours, kissing you with an intensity you’ve never felt before. For a while, he just lays there, kissing you.

“Gonna pull out now. Gotta clean you up.”

You whine, but nod regardless. You feel empty at the loss of him, but you don’t have much time to think about it before you feel a warm towel wipe around your centre.

“You gotta go pee, Y/n. Don’t want to develop a UTI.”

Five minutes ago this man was coming inside of you, and now he’s back to being the man who came to your house in the rain with tea. You do know he’s right though, so you pull yourself out of your bed on shaking legs and make your way to your bathroom.

When you come back in, you find Spencer with his pants back on. Your heart breaks a little.

In a small voice you ask, “Are you leaving?”

He looks up at you then, “Do you want me to stay?”

You don’t know why you wouldn’t.

“If you don’t want to you don’t have to.”

You can feel tears welling up again, but these are different from before; he notices immediately.

“Baby, baby don’t worry. I don’t want to go, I just didn’t want to over step.”

You laugh a little at that, wiping your eyes, “I think we’ve gotten over all the steps, Spencer. I, I want - Just please stay.”

He nods and moves to take off his pants before sliding into place next to you. His arm wraps around your waist and you feel a tingle in the spots where he touches you.

“I don’t want to have this be a one time thing,” you blurt out.

You feel him hold you a little tighter then.

“I was never planning that, Y/n. Now, sleep. We can talk about how much I’ve come to adore you tomorrow.”

END!! i hope you all love it!

tag list! (leave me comment if you want to join and i’ll add you): @sabage101

[rinhaler]

So Tell Me What You Need

oliver aiku really really likes you ♡

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ yandere!oliver aiku x f!reader

Genre: college!au (++ smut) Notes: thank u 2 @chososdoll for doing gods work with this fic i hated it hehehe Warnings: 18+, serial killer mention, murder mention, weed mention, smoking, stalking ♡, manipulation, dub/noncon, 'just the tip' ♡, coercion, oral (m receiving), cock slapping ♡, facial, creampie ♡, praise, degradation, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, etc.) ♡ Words: 7.2k

The body of a young woman was discovered in the early hours of Thursday morning. It’s the third body in the last five months to be found, and an inside source has revealed that this is thought to be a pattern by one killer. The victims are all female and—

Your heart pounds as you shut off the TV in your front room. It’s the last thing you want to hear as the windows reveal the dark night sky outside. You don’t even see the stars above; the light pollution takes that comfort from you. All you can see is rows of apartments opposite to your own, some lit and some dim. Some with funky colours but most are warm white.

And your face flushes with heat as you notice one of the latter have a couple fucking up against a window before you turn away to face your roommate.

She notes your concern, but chooses to smirk and poke fun anyway.

“Maybe it’s your stalker,” she teases you. “You might be next.”

“That’s not funny.” you sigh, storming off to your room. You wince as you look at the abandoned study materials at your desk. You’ve been putting everything off for weeks, but your coursework and exams are the last thing on your mind.

You find yourself pacing around a little before you eventually decide to sit on the edge of your bed. There’s no way you can possibly sleep after hearing that. And your roommate’s poor joke has only made you more paranoid. So, what is there left to do?

Music might help, you think to yourself as you unlock your phone. You can barely do anything as your fingers begin to tremor while you look through your playlists. You’re interrupted, though, as a call from an unknown number fills your screen.

You mask your fear with anger, grunting as you swing open your bedroom door to yell at your friend.

“Stop it, Lacey! I’m going to have nightmares, I’m serious!” you yell. She looks at you, confused. You hold up your phone to show her the incoming call. But her eyes drop to the coffee table, her own phone discarded on top of it in favour of smoking from her bong.

“Answer it.” she urges you.

And you gulp, nodding, sliding the button across the bottom of the touch screen to take the call. You steel yourself, already knowing what’s coming as soon as you speak. It’s the same thing every single time. You don’t say a word, not for a few seconds. There isn’t a sound from either of you as you sit on the couch while your roommate’s eyes follow you.

“Hello?” you say, meekly.

It begins.

The heavy, repetitive breathing that sends a chill down your spine. She looks concerned, now. It’s the first time she’s been present when you’ve received a call. You’d started to suspect she didn’t believe you.

“Who the fuck is this?” she yells, snatching the phone from your hand. Their breathing stutters, it’s barely noticeable but you both pick up on it. It’s enough to make her hang up. “I— you should stay in my room tonight. W-With me.”

“Are you scared?” you ask her, earnestly. She doesn’t respond, but the fact that she’s packing away her drug paraphernalia is answer enough. “Thank you.” you smile, though you leave the room as you do.

You start scrolling through your contacts on instinct, tossing your phone onto your bed as you find the number you’re searching for and put it on loudspeaker as it dials. It rings and rings, and you start to worry you won’t get through. You undress, taking off your clothes from the day to change into your pyjamas.

“Hey you,” he starts. “S’pretty late, baby. Somethin’ wrong?”

“Oliver…” you start, legs buckling at the sound of his voice as you feel a combination of relief and guilt surge through you. You sniff, the pressure of your fear and other underlying emotions doing their best to overwhelm you. “My— The stalker called. Again.” you tell him, and you’re instantly met with a sympathetic coo.

“Do you want me to come over?” he asks. “Or do you wanna come here? I’ll pick you up, princess, s’not a problem.” he continues. You shake your head despite him not being able to see.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Sorry, I was just freaking out. Nice to hear your voice, though…” you smile a little, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“Alright. Only if you’re sure.” he speaks, clearing his throat. “I miss you, though. You better let me see that pretty face of yours soon.”

“Okay,” your smile widens. Once again nodding knowing he can’t actually see you right now. “Goodnight Oli.”

“Goodnight, gorgeous.”

Sharing a bed with your roommate helped. You didn’t even mind her snoring, it’s not like you’d expected to get much sleep anyway. You got enough to get you through the day, though. Classes went by without incident, and you didn’t feel yourself wavering at lunchtime like you have been recently.

The calls are unpredictable, you’re always on edge. There’s no specific times or days or even how many times he’ll call.

You walk back to your apartment alone. The winter sucks. It’s not particularly cold, but it’s dark when you get to your classes and then it’s dark again when you leave for the day. You feel like you’re going crazy, and you can’t pretend you aren’t scared of being outside alone when it’s so dark out.

A text notification frightens you enough to almost drop your phone. You don’t even remember turning your phone off silent. Though you can’t help but grin when you see who it’s from.

Oli: Wanna hang out tonight?

You: I’m too behind on my coursework ☹

You: Another time? x

Oli: Okay princess x

You take a deep breath, pocketing your phone as you continue your journey to your apartment. The elevator isn’t empty, but you don’t mind. If anything, you feel a little better to be around people. Your music plays softly through your earphones the whole time, and your anxiety finally begins to dissipate.

Although, it comes flooding back when you get to the door of your apartment.

It’s locked.

And, normally, that would be fine. But Lacey always finishes early on Monday’s. And she’s always home before you get here. Your mind instantly flickers to the phone calls. The stalker.

The news report last night.

Little hands tremble as you search pathetically through your tote bag until you find your keys. The metal clings and clangs as you search for the right one; you jump as they fall from your hands. Eventually, though, the right one is in your grasp and you open the door quickly.

There’s no sign of her. She isn’t smoking in the front room like you expect. You open her bedroom door without knocking, only to discover she isn’t there either. Deep breaths are taken in vain. You try to call her, but there’s no answer.

You: Are you okay?? Call me ASAP

Lacey: I’m fine! I’m at the frat hanging out with Eita 😇

“Oh thank God.” you sigh, all but falling to your knees when you read her reply. Instantly, you can’t help but think about what a slut she is when you think about her failing to tell you her plans because she’s decided to sneak off to ‘hang out’ with her toxic friend with benefits.

Your mind is clear, though your heart is still beating a mile a minute.

Oli: You’re really just gonna study all night? X

You: Thinking about ordering a pizza :P x

Oli: I like pizza you know 🙄x

You: Next time! Promise x

It’s crazy. It’s embarrassing, actually, how quickly he can put you at ease. You’ve only known him for a few months, but it feels like you’ve known him forever. You sigh, dreamily, as you recall how he had introduced himself to you and Lacey during welcome week. He had to squeeze in the fact he was the president of the most popular frat on campus.

Even then, he made you blush. Though you couldn’t act on it; you’d had a boyfriend at the time. But you’ve been single for almost as long as you’ve known Oli, since you dumped him a week or two after; when you realised you didn’t love him anymore. And, still, nothing has happened between you and Oliver.

You’re scared, truthfully.

You’re scared because you know he’s experienced and he’s confident. You know girls throw themselves at him and he knows he’s popular. You’re not a virgin, but compared to him you may as well be.

After clearing your throat and shaking your head to dismiss your train of thought, you start looking for food to add to your basket from your favourite pizza place. It’s so hard to choose, as much as you’d love to get everything, you’re basically broke.

Incoming call.

“Please, no.” your voice breaks as you speak out loud.

You shouldn’t answer. The number is private and you already know what’s going to happen. But you’ve tried that before. You’ve tried ignoring them, but they just keep calling until you answer.

You’re frozen, paralysed with fear as you contemplate what to do. Lacey isn’t here to support you this time. She won’t be coming back, either. So, do you really want to answer? Do you really want to deal with how many calls you’ll receive if you don’t?

The burden of dealing with this alone is too much to bear.

But you’ve been left with no other choice.

“H-Hello?” you whimper, eager to get it over with. The breathing starts, and you’re surprised that this time it’s enough to make you cry. And it’s not just a few tears falling. Whoever is on the other end of the call will undoubtedly know what you’ve been reduced to. “Please stop doing this. W-What do you want from me?” you cry.

It's useless, though, the breathing just continues.

“I can’t t-take it anymore, please, p-please…”

“Mmmmpf,” you hear, it’s cracked and strained and it makes you feel sick. You aren’t sure if you’re imagining things, or if this sicko is actually getting off to the sound of your anguish and desperate pleas. “Thank you.” they say, the voice is deep and distorted but it’s clear as day.

Your breath is trapped in your lungs. And for the first time, they hang up.

You just can’t anymore.

Can’t breathe.

Can’t function.

Can’t think.

You can think enough to call Oli, though. Tremoring digits manage to navigate away from the takeout website to bring up your text thread with Oliver once more. And you don’t hesitate to press the call button.

Your eyes are soaked, vision blurry like a smudged camera lens as you look around your barren apartment while you wait for him to pick up.

“Hi gorgeous,” he answers, a seductive lilt in his tone. If you weren’t so worked up, you’d be flustered. You can picture the smirk on his face as he talks, though you aren’t really listening. “What’s up, baby? Calling to brag about that pizza?”

“O-li.” you sniff, voice cracking after each vowel. He’s silent, but you hear him move. Like he’s sitting upright suddenly, ready to spring into action to rescue you. “He c-called. Again, Oli… again—”

“Shit.” he sighs. “Do you want me to—”

“Please… come get me. ‘m so scared, don’t wanna be here a-alone.” you whine.

“I’m on my way.” he tells you. “I won’t be long, baby. I promise. See ya soon, princess.” he finishes, cutting off the line as he rushes to his car.

Your body stiffens as the silence of your apartment hits you once more. You can’t waste time, though. So, you pack. You’re quick about it, too. You fill your biggest bag with toiletries, a change of clothes and sleepwear… and your coursework.

There’s no way you’ll be doing any work tonight, but you can at least pretend you’re functioning like normal. You can’t let this creep dictate your entire life, right? Maybe being with Oliver will actually keep you calm enough to actually get some of your work started.

Oli: I’m outside x

The black night sky makes your heart race as you walk out of your apartment. The winter cold is harsher in the bleak evenings. Your thin sweater isn’t enough to protect you from the air nipping at your skin.

It’s the least of your worries; all you can think about is the fact this stalker of yours could be watching you right now. It could be anyone. Someone from your class, someone you shared the elevator with, your next-door neighbour. The very thought makes your steps quicken. You’re hurrying to the elevator and bashing the button until it arrives. It’s the first time you’ve felt safe since you left your apartment, because you’re alone. But even then, your skin breaks into goosebumps as you look up at the CCTV camera in the corner.

You’ll never feel safe, not really.

You rush down the road when you see Oliver’s car in the distance. He honks, and it’s all you need to run to him. You’re running like an athlete, and it feels more humiliating than it should. You’re sure Oliver understands why you’re frightened; and you’re sure he won’t judge you for sprinting to the car. But, still, it feels pathetic.

You open the door roughly before you practically dive into the passenger seat. He moves out of the way a little as you throw your overnight bag into the back seat.

“Hey, you’re alright now. Yeah? I’ve got you.” he speaks softly, doing what he can to relax you. You almost melt into his touch as he tucks a hair behind your ear. You do, a little, your body almost melds to the plush leather seat. Your head falls backwards onto the head rest, and your lip begins to wobble. “Poor thing…” he sighs.

“D-Drive, please…” you say, voice weak and strained.

He nods, driving off towards the frat house.

“I wouldn’t worry, you know.” he tells you, putting his hand on your thigh as he drives slow and carefully. You don’t object to his advances, in fact, it’s a comfort to feel his warm hand on your bitter flesh. Even his rough thumb stroking your skin is a welcome feeling. “It’s probably your ex, princess.”

“You think so?” you wonder. “I don’t know… he didn’t take the breakup well, but—”

“You never know what people will resort to when they’re heartbroken, baby.” he tells you, uneven eyes focus on you even as he drives. It makes you nervous, but his calm demeanour forces you to ignore it. You trust him, wholly. “Plus, he knows he lost the best thing that’ll happen to him in his pathetic life.”

“… Oli.” you smile, looking down at your knees as you try to avoid his cocksure stare.

He doesn’t say another word for the rest of the journey.

You come face to face with Lacey as you walk through the grandiose double doors. You feel like a guest of honour as you enter the castle that Oliver Aiku reigns over. Everyone is filled with warm smiles and happy faces as you see them. But your expression in return is feeble. You try to smile, but you’re so downtrodden, and Lacey immediately knows why.

She doesn’t even care that you don’t say hello when you run by her on the stairs and hurry to Oliver’s room. Oliver remains at the bottom while he watches you flee.

“She got another call.” he informs your roommate.

“Fuck.” she hisses through her teeth as she looks back up the stairs. Her voice is filled with remorse as she thinks things through. “I shouldn’t have left her alone; I knew she was—”

“S’alright, Lace,” Oliver smiles, his pristine pearly whites instantly put her at ease. “You can’t be with her every second, don’t blame yourself.” his eyes are so warm and full of love, she sees it every time he talks about you. He’s good for you, she thinks. He’s so sweet about you and he’s crazy about you.

“Give her our best.” Eita tells him, putting a hand on Lacey’s shoulder as they descend the stairs. “We’re going to smoke in the garden.”

“Enjoy yourselves, kids.” Oliver smirks, winking at them before chasing after you.

He sees you making yourself comfortable in his room. You’re already undressed, and you don’t care that he can see you. He doesn’t dare look away, either. But you don’t mind. He watches as you put on the mismatched pyjamas you threw into your bag, and he sits beside you on the bed after you collapse backwards onto the mattress.

“I’m gonna change my number,” you whisper. “I should have done that in the first place…”

“Good idea.” he agrees. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his hand rest atop your head, his thumb delicately stroking your forehead again and again. He swears he sees you fall asleep for a second before you scare yourself awake with a too heavy breath. “Should we get you that pizza?”

You nod, lightly.

“I’d like that.”

He’s the perfect gentleman. You’re lucky to know Oli, you think. That’s how you feel anyway, as he watches you in silence while simultaneously encouraging your efforts in getting your schoolwork done.

He was kind, and he was helpful. Telling you that you could take a break or stop all together for the evening when your food arrived. And so, you spent a good while making notes and studying textbooks.

“Atta girl.” he winks at you, teasingly, when you begin to scribble down words onto pages. “I’m proud of you, baby, don’t let that idiot get under your skin.”

“Thanks Oli, I—” you’re cut off by the sound of your phone vibrating. You look over your shoulder and back to the desk you’ve been sitting at for the last 35 minutes. “O-Oli…” you whimper, showing him your phone.

He sets his own phone down on his bedside cabinet as he focuses on yours. It’s them. Oliver takes your phone, eyes furrowed as he debates whether to answer or not - choosing to answer brazenly. He puts it on loudspeaker, if only so you can confirm it is indeed the man who’s been harassing you endlessly.

The breaths are heavy but also stifled. It’s like he’s trying to control himself. He’s trying to be quiet. Oliver looks at you for answers, but you don’t have any for him. You haven’t got a single solitary clue on how to deal with these calls anymore.

Nothing works.

“Keep messing with her, I’ll fuck you up.” he says sternly. He eyes you up to make sure you’re listening to him. He wants you, needs you, to know he’s going to protect you at any cost. “We know who you are, so knock it the fuck off.”

He presses the big red disconnect button and puts your phone down beside you on the desk. He’s a little taken aback when you rush into his arms, your head resting on his firm chest while your arms wrap tightly around his torso. His hand comes down gently on the crown of your head and hear him emit a soft chuckle. You can’t see the small smile etching its way across his face, but you know it’s there.

“I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you, okay?” he assures you. You feel like a different person, with him. It’s like you’re having an out of body experience when you find yourself lunging forward on your tippy toes to place your lips against his. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. Not right away, at least. He holds your shoulders after a few seconds go by. “Where did that come from?” he smirks.

“I don’t know, sorry… I just—” you’re interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing. You back away a little, smiling. “Saved by the bell.” you joke.

“I’ll go,” he closes the gap between you again, bending down to capture your lips in a soft, chaste kiss once again. “Find a movie or something, anything you want.” he whispers against your skin before parting from you.

You shiver, slightly, after he closes the door behind himself. The rational side of you knows that you’re fine. Nothing bad is going to happen right now. But you can’t help feeling safer with Oli around.

Maybe that’s why you kissed him.

You’re just so grateful to him.

“We should prob’ly go to sleep.”

You nod, agreeing when you see the time tick tick ticking on the plain black clock above his desk. A few hours had passed since the most recent call. You didn’t even pick a movie, you ended up watching some silly gaming videos on YouTube while you ate together.

It was divine.

And you can’t deny the possibility that it tasted better with a smile on your face and good company.

You get under the covers, your body feeling warmer as you watch Oliver circle the bed to turn off the light. He’d decided to forgo wearing anything to cover his chiselled body, and you suspect he did it on purpose.

The room is plunged into darkness until he uses the flashlight on his phone to guide his way back to bed. The mattress sinks behind you as he gets under the covers, and you only just manage to suppress a yelp when he presses his body against yours. You could quite literally dissolve under the pressure.

He smirks against the juncture between your neck and shoulder as he kisses you there, a desperate mewl escaping you in an instant. His hand rests on the curve of your hip, though his thick fingers begin to sink into your malleable flesh. You can’t even bring yourself to protest as you feel him not so subtly nudge his hips into you. And you can feel him.

“Oli… w-we shouldn’t.” you say, softly, the desperation clinging to your tongue gives away your true feelings instantly. You shouldn’t? That’s your opinion, clearly, as a rough hand winds its way around your body and up the baggy unflattering t-shirt you’d decided to wear.

“Are you sure?” he whispers against the hairs standing on end on the back of your neck. Words formulating in your mouth crumble to pieces when he squeezes the supple flesh of your breasts, alternating between them like he’s deciding which is his favourite. He experimentally rolls one of your nipples between his finger and thumb, and he’s mesmerised by the sound you release and the way you back your ass up against his aching length. He offers his own breathy sound in response. It’s almost a gasp. “You like this?” he wonders aloud despite knowing.

And you could cry as you nod.

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched. Since you’ve been loved.

And why should you put your needs on hold just because you’re a little scared?

“What about just the tip, princess?” he mutters, you feel your panties soak through as gravelly words enter your ear canal. He’s that desperate. He needs you that badly that he’s prepared to settle for just the tip. “Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand how much I need you, baby?”

“We r-really shouldn’t…” you tell him.

Even through the material of the top you’re wearing, you feel his rock hard body pressed heavily into your back. His hard-on makes you dizzy, you may as well be drunk from how much the room is spinning as you do all you can to resist.

“But you want to.” he tells you. He moves you onto your back and cages you in. He brushes his bulging sweats into your heat, his head drooping as he feels so close but so far to what he’s always wanted. Since the very moment he set his sights on you, he wanted this. “I can feel you, princess. You can feel me too, yeah?” he asks.

“Y-Yes, Oli… I feel you.”

“So stop fightin’ it.” he commands, though there’s a level of desperation interlaced with his words. He pulls down his sweats and his cock springs free, slapping against his abs and leaving a sticky smear against his tensing muscles. You whimper when he repeatedly taps his cockhead against your clit, even through the layers you’re wearing to cover it. Your toes curl. “Just the tip, sweetheart. C’mon, for me… been waiting so long for this.”

You don’t even answer before he hooks deft fingers into the waistline of your shorts. He leaves your panties, though. And you yelp as his fingers tease the pretty lace covering your drippy folds. He hums, he moans as his fingers run along the clothed length of your slit.

“You’re fucking soaking, baby. You need this cock, please. Let me fuck you. Why are you tryna deny yourself of a good time?”

And with that, you find yourself nodding dumbly.

He growls at your muted answer. It’s all he needs. It’s all he fucking needs and he’s happy his odd coloured eyes even manage to pick up on the gesture even in the dark. Could he have imagined it? He doesn’t know, nor does he care when your legs spread open for him like a flower once he moves your panties aside. The dewiness is cold against the crease of your thigh, but it’s barely noticeable as Oli spits down on your pulsing clit.

“Just the tip, o-okay?” you stutter.

“Mmm,” he answers. He hisses as your tight cunt swallows him, practically sucking in the head of his cock as soon as your entrance feels him. His eyes lose focus for a second and his breathing is erratic.

It’s happening.

It’s really happening.

He almost loses balance, hands settling on your bent knees so he can stabilise himself. You’ve been playing so hard to get for so long. And even you aren’t sure why.

He cups your face as he lowers his body on top of yours. His lips slot against your own as he kisses you passionately, though he breaks it soon enough.

“’m sorry.” he apologises. And you’re confused, only for a moment, before you feel his full-length plunge into your unprepped walls. Your hands fly to his back, nails digging and scratching over beautiful musculature and marking him like he’s yours “You’re fucking tight, baby.” he chuckles, kissing you again as his hips begin to gyrate.

“Oli, I said—”

“Don’t care.” he argues, already knowing what you’re about to say. “You feel too good. So tight f’me, princess. ‘n I’m making you feel good, yeah? Let me fuck you, stop thinking and take it.” he tells you, hips snapping harder to accentuate his point.

“Nngh—!” you moan, your nails still claw and mark at his back. He chuckles, darkly, as you draw blood. He doesn’t care, not in the least. He hadn’t expected you to be like this, but he can’t say he isn’t enjoying it. He kisses your neck as his thrusts get deeper and harsher. You feel his lips curve as you clench around him tighter.

He’s found your spot.

That perfect spot deep inside of your perfect cunt.

Your tight walls that now he’s certain were made for him to fuck. He pulls out, and it’s so brief. But the way you’re whimpering tells him how much of a good girl you are. You’re trained without even needing to cum. You’ve never been fucked so good.

After all of the sex you had with your ex, you didn’t know missionary could feel like this.

Doggy was always your favourite because it was the only time you could really feel anything with him. But this… you can feel him in your fucking throat. Your mind is blank as he pounds into you again and again at an unrelenting pace.

“Who’s making you feel good?” he mumbles into your ear. You feel close to passing out when he nibbles on your earlobe right after. Your cunt clenches and he laughs because he swears if you do that again you might actually break his cock. “Who’s fucking you so good, hm? Tell me who’s making your pretty pussy purr.”

“Y-You!” you gasp. “Oli, please! Please don’t stop.” you wail.

You can’t even feel embarrassed at the thought of anyone hearing you. Not when he’s dangling your first penetrative orgasm right in front of your face like a donkey with a hanging carrot. You mumble his name like it’s a prayer as he batters into your g-spot as if it were his soul reason for living.

“Waited too fuckin’ long for this,” he admits, the scruff of his facial hair scratches your skin as he gives you a filthy, sordid tongue kiss whilst continuing to assault the button deep within that will lead to your eventual ruin. And it’s close. It’s so fucking close and the two of you can feel it. “First time you’ve been fucked properly. That pathetic ex of yours—”

“D-Don’t,” you warn him, having no desire talking about your potential stalker when you’re so close to reaching your peak.

He grabs your face and squeezes until your lips pucker for him. Your eyes widen as he stares into them. You will listen to what he has to say, he’s making damn sure of it.

“Had a perfect pussy right in his face ‘n he didn’t know what to do with her.” he smirks. “No wonder you didn’t want him anymore.”

“Oli,” you sob. “Oli, please.”

“But I can make you cum.” he tells you. He frees your face and holds his hands under the bends of your knees. You feel every breath in your lungs escape as he folds you in half. He can’t help but laugh, not quite at your expense but it feels like that regardless. Only because he’s shocked. He can’t believe such a simple change could have you cumming so quickly for him. “Good girl, that’s it, baby.” he praises you.

“Haah, hah, aaaah! O-Oli! Mmmpf—!” you gasp, creaming around him pathetically as he drills his length in and out of you.

“I’ll make you cum t-that hard. Every fucking time, princess.” he stutters as he nears his own end. He isn’t sure, but he’s almost certain he sees your eyes cross as you cum for him. God you’re such a slut. He can’t believe you’ve been acting so coy and hard to get for so long. You’ll be addicted, now. You won’t be able to get enough now that you’ve experienced what a good fuck can really do for you. “Fuck. Fuuuuu-ck…” he finishes, still thrusting into you.

The warmth you feel coat your insides has your self esteem at an all time high. And you hate how much of a simple-minded girl you really are. As if guys won’t cum in anything they stick their dicks in if given the chance. And, still, you feel so special that Oliver Aiku chose you to be his own personal cum dump for the night.

His sweet words and ability to make you unravel make you feel more meaningful to him than you really are. He kisses you repeatedly before collapsing by your side. His seed dribbles out of your spent cunt and, now, you feel disgusting. But it doesn’t take long for him to catch his breath and move to spoon you again. He puts his softening length back inside, intent on keeping you plugged up with the goal of falling asleep like this.

“T-Thank you… Oli…” you whisper.

He doesn’t speak.

But a sweet kiss on your shoulder is all you needed from him.

“Oliver.” you whisper.

He grunts in response, and that’s all. You consider saying his name again. You consider saying it a little louder this time so he’ll hear you. But instead, you drop it. If anything, it’s probably a blessing. You raise your head a little to check where all of your belongings are. If he’s so out of it that he can’t even respond to his name, you should take the chance to sneak out before anyone can tease you about your antics.

You’re expecting an earful from Lacey. She’ll want to talk about every sordid detail. And, truthfully, you’d rather die. You’re embarrassed. You’re ashamed of yourself for even having sex on your mind when you’re dealing with a stalker.

The thought of the other guys seeing you is filling you with embarrassment, too. You know already without even seeing them that everyone knows what you did. You were so loud, both of you were. And in the moment, you didn’t care. Oliver didn’t either, but he’ll wake up not caring too.

Guys that hadn’t heard you fucking will have definitely been told by now. You’ll be greeted by smirks and torment on your way out of the frat. You should have known this would end up happening. It’s been obvious how much Oliver wanted this for a long time, and you held off, but last night you were weak.

So weak, and now you want to runaway from the scene of the crime.

You’re taken aback as you try and get out of bed but you’re pulled straight back into Oliver’s arms.

“Where’d you think you’re going?” he asks.

Fuck.

As if he couldn’t get any sexier, of course his morning voice is hot. It’s coarse and rugged and you instinctively melt back into his arms. You’ll tell him. You will tell him that you’re leaving. Right after you grind on him a little bit.

Just a little bit.

“I h-have to go,” you lie. “I’ve got things to do, Oli.”

“Mmm, don’t care. Got morning wood, feel it?” he asks. His arm snakes around your body and his palm flattens against your stomach so that your ass is pressed against his erection once again. “Can’t go ‘til you do something about it.”

“Oli I, aah, fu—! N-Not fair…” you mewl as his fingers dip into your panties and his fingers begin to play with your silky clit.

“Suck me off.” he commands, his touches on your clit become lighter and lighter until he stops completely. “I’ll finger you ‘til you’re droolin’ if you suck this cock f’me, princess.” he stuffs his wet fingers into your mouth so you can taste yourself. It catches you off guard, and you sputter around them. But as he continues to finger fuck your face, you begin to mewl around his thick digits. “Good girl, just suck my cock like that.”

He reaches behind his head and throws a pillow to the ground for you. He lifts you so you’re facing him, and can’t quite believe how seamlessly he manages to carry and move you exactly where he wants.

And then you remember, he’s experienced.

He sits on the edge of the bed whilst your legs are wrapped around his waist as you make out. He bites your lip and encourages you to drop to the ground. You nod, reluctantly, worried that you won’t be able to give the performance he’s hoping for.

But regardless, he watches as you move the pillow across the floor and between his feet so you can kneel on it.

You whimper a little as your legs widen as you kneel, feeling last nights ejaculate slowly drip out of you and onto his fresh, pristine pillow. He doesn’t care, though. His dick is soaked from your cunt and his pre. And it’s all you can think about as he lightly slaps it against your nose and lips.

Your jaw loosens and your mouth is a perfect ‘O’ shape for him to slot into. His fingers lace through your hair as he slowly lowers you onto his cock. You hadn’t noticed in the dark, but he’s uncircumcised. You’ve never seen a dick like his before.

Your hand wraps around his length as you take him into your mouth, but you soon pull away again. You can’t believe how much easier it is to work someone with foreskin.

He smirks, seeing the thoughts go through your head. He’s so sensitive and receptive and you’re clueless. He’s practically putty in your hands and yet you think he’s the one in control. You’re so cute and naïve.

He loves girls like you.

“Suck it, princess.” he commands. “S’not a toy, y’know. Suck my dick clean.”

You clear your throat before sinking down onto his length once again, finding a steady rhythm to suck and lick and take him down your throat. He’s average length, but he’s girthy. It’s hard to take, honestly. Compared to your pencil-dicked ex, your eyes are watering and you’re doing anything and everything not to choke or gag.

He sees it, too, he’s got a perfect view as he tugs at your hair to make sure you’re keeping eye contact with him as you suck him dry.

“That’s a good slut,” he smirks through a heavy breath. “Take this dick, jus’ like that…” he continues.

Your thighs squeeze together as he degrades you. You don’t like it, you don’t like that you’ve become a slut after being his princess. But at the same time, you love it. You want to hear it again. So you take him deeper. And deeper.

“Such a dumb girl letting that loser ex of yours stick his dick in you.” he says, licking his lips as he pushes your head lightly. His chest rises and falls rapidly as the pressure of his hand intensifies until your nose brushes against brunette curls, and then squishes against his pubis. “And now he’s stalking you… what do you think he’d do if he knew you were sucking this cock?” he asks, his voice breathy and desperate as his hips start to buck.

You try to pull away, but the barely trying effort of his hand keeping you in place is somehow stronger. He coos as you stutter, struggling to breathe through the desperation.

“Breathe through your nose, stupid.” he tells you. “Good cock makes pretty girls like you real dumb.” he smiles.

He yanks at your hair until you’re fully removed from his cock. Pre and dribble pools from your mouth as you gasp desperately. You want to be mad at him, you want to tell him not to speak to you like that.

But you can’t.

Not when his lips are on yours and you feel yourself getting off from the idea of him tasting himself on your tongue. You’re breathless and out of words when he breaks it momentarily, and the sound of tacky masturbation is like a tidal wave in your ears.

“My pretty little slut, aren’t you?” he asks, kissing you again before you can answer. You can’t answer when your head is so empty. Is that really what you are? It doesn’t matter, you suppose. He’s already decided for you. “God, don’t you have any self-respect? Don’t you think you deserve better than being a stupid slut for me?”

His face contorts as he jerks himself harder and faster. You’re too busy thinking about his question to notice, though. You suck his tip into your mouth before he forces you away. His intimidating glare telling you that he’s looking for an answer this time.

“M-Maybe…” you pout, eyes wet and wide as you wonder aloud. Do you deserve better? Isn’t this all your good for? He’ll keep you safe, at least. He seems to like you more than any other girl on campus. He’s the best fuck you’ve ever had and you’re way more into him than you’d ever let on.

And just the as word leaves your lips, he’s moaning boisterously. Your face painted in white, pearly cum. A showing of just how much worth you have in his eyes. It feels almost endless as he gives you a full facial, hissing as it drips from your eyelash and into your eye.

He scrapes some of it from your face and force feeds it into your mouth.

You’re disgusting, too, because you suck without question.

“Fuck, you’re nasty.” he laughs. He lifts you up from the ground and tosses you onto the bed with little care. You almost want to cry from the stinging sensation you feel in your eye. You should have left when you had the chance. Instead you’re starting off the morning and Oliver Aiku’s cum rag. You don’t feel much better when he throws your shorts at you. “Clean yourself up.”

You try your best, focusing the material around your eye area as you try to do some sort of damage control. You see him tuck his dick into his sweats with your unaffected eye, and he swaggers towards the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“I’ll get you a towel, wait here.” he tells you.

He hastens down the stairs and walks into the kitchen. The frat is bare, he suspects most of the guys must still be in bed. Though as soon as he rounds the corner, he notices Eita sitting at the kitchen table. They share a knowing smirk, silently celebrating the fact that Oliver finally got what he wanted out of you.

Oliver pours himself a bowl of cereal, leaning against the counter as he crunches it between his teeth. Eita looks up from his phone after a few moments of silence and finally speaks.

“Did you fuck her, then? Or—”

“Fucked her stupid. ‘n she sucked me off this morning.” he smirks, slurping the milk on his spoon as he thinks about your pretty face covered in his seed. “All thanks to you, my friend.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eita laughs, pulling a cigarette from behind his ear and igniting it with a lighter from his pocket.

“No no, really, thank you.” he laughs, “I got to be her knight in shining armour when you called her last night. She was so easy to fuck after that.” he grins, holding a fist out for him to bump. Eita chuckles, trading which hand holds his cigarette before returning the gesture.

“You’re such a sick fuck.” Eita laughs, scrolling through his phone. “Look,” he shows his screen to Oliver. He can only laugh when he sees yet another article about the psycho serial killer that has made your anxiety worse than it already would be with a stalker on the loose.

“I’m not the one killing girls, am I?” Oliver comments, “Just scaring one girl with some heavy breathing.” he shrugs.

Even he isn’t twisted enough to think whoever this local serial killer is isn’t completely fucked up. But he can’t deny that it started happening at the perfect time. After he set his plan in motion to be your stalker. After he planted a seed in your mind that he’d always be there for you if you needed him. He’d always protect you no matter what happened, and he wasn’t about to let this stalker get to you.

You fell for it. Hook, line and sinker. You’re even starting to suspect your stupid limp dick ex because he told you to suspect him. Oliver Aiku, the guy who’s always around when you need him most. The guy who’s always just a phone call or text message away. The guy who’s always offered to be by your side and jump in harms way to protect you.

Oliver wasn’t even on your radar.

Perfect Oliver.

Sweet Oliver.

© 2024 rinhaler

[nothingweirdhere]

not me working eight and a half hours with a five minute break 🙃

[verstappen-cult]

ALL I WANT, M. VERSTAPPEN

✶ SUMMARY. Max is a jealous man, he can’t help it, but never does a big deal out of it. Sometimes he likes to remind people you’re taken and other times remind you who you belong to. But when he sees you flirting with one of his coworkers, an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach makes him want to cry.

content warnings ✶ disclaimers. fem!reader. hurt/comfort. jealous and insecure max. lewis as a plot device.

GWEN RAMBLES — hello! this was requested by a lovely anon who wanted a little bit of jealous and insecure max. and this is what came out, i hope you all like it! comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated.

If you ask Max, he will admit he’s a jealous man. But it’s just that he doesn’t like seeing people flirting with his girl when they know (and even if they don’t) she’s taken. She’s with him.

But seeing you talking with Lewis has made him feel something strange, something he doesn’t like.

He’s been watching you for about five minutes, after he excused himself to go buy a few more drinks for the table, and you moved closer to Lewis. Max really doesn’t like the way you keep laughing and twirling your hair while Lewis says something that he can’t hear, but wishes to.

Are you flirting with Lewis? Is that what’s happening?

When he sees you throw your head back in a laugh, something ugly twists inside of him.

What does Lewis Hamilton have that he doesn’t? He is an attractive man, Max can admit that. But what are you looking for that Max doesn’t have? He really tries to give you everything, to respect your space and have a good communication. And yes, you have fights and he’s not very proud to admit that he is a difficult man, and sometimes it’s hard to fight against the Verstappen gen, but he tries.

He really fucking tries to be the man you deserve.

Is it because Lewis is more talented? Is it because he has more championships than him? Or maybe it is because he’s having an awful season and can’t seem to move up from fifth place while Lewis has won the last three races in a row? Max doesn’t know, but he doesn’t like feeling this way. He doesn’t like thinking that you’ll definitely be better without him and with someone more easy to talk to, with a lot less trauma maybe, more talented. Just… better than him.

He wants to be at the receiving end of that laugh, of those sparkling eyes. He’s been in the receiving end countless of times, he just hadn’t seen you act that way with anyone else but him. Until today, that is.

Max feels a tight pressure on his chest, a lump in his throat making it almost impossible to swallow, to breathe. He wants to get out of there. The music is too loud, there are too many people around looking at him, smiling at him not knowing that he just wants to wipe that stupid smile off Lewis’ face.

Max thanks the barman and goes back to the table with the drinks, trying to smile through the awful pain in his chest.

He’s never felt this way before. And he doesn’t like it one bit.

“Hey, baby.” You say, turning around to look at him, still smiling. That precious smile of yours.

“I’m gonna head out,” He says, leaving the drinks on the table. Just one look at your face and he feels like crying right then and there, so he looks away only to find the brown eyes of Lando already on him. His friend raises his eyebrows in a silent question, but Max doesn’t feel like lying, not right now. So he looks away once more. “I’ll text you later.”

Max doesn’t wait for your answer, he turns around and walks out of the club as fast as he can. But he doesn’t even make it to his car.

“Max!” Your voice stops him right in his tracks. “what is going on? I came with you, in case you forgot.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You can ask Lewis to give you a ride.” He winces as the words leave his mouth.

“What? No, why would I do that? I came with you and I’m leaving with you.” He can hear the confusion in your voice, can hear you walking closer to him. “Max, did something happen?”

Max doesn’t want you to think that something is wrong, even if there is something wrong.

“I have a terrible headache,” He turns around, a false smile on his lips. “that’s why I need to leave.”

“Oh, baby.” You coo, cupping his cheek, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Let’s go home. I’m gonna take care of you.”

“No, just stay here. I can take care of myself.”

Your hand falls as well as your face, and Max doesn’t feel proud for making you feel bad. But he needs to do something to stop feeling this way.

“Did I do something?” Your voice is barely above a whisper but it’s enough to set Max off.

“Oh, just go and flirt with Lewis!” He lifts his hands, not being able to contain himself. “You were doing an excellent job!” He exclaims, the tightness in his chest becoming unbearable.

You take a step back, your pretty eyes already filling with tears. The hurt in your face making him want to reach out and pull you to him, but the jealous part, the insecure and horrible part of him makes him keep going.

“I saw the way you looked at him, the way you were acting as if he’s the funniest guy in the world!” He lets out a bitter laugh, his own eyes filling with tears.

“I–I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

He shakes his head, rubbing his hands over his face. “You think he’s better than me, no? Just say it.”

Something crosses your face, something Max can’t make out, but it makes you take a step forward and then another until you’re inches away from his face.

You take his face in your hands, thumbs caressing his cheeks as tears stream down your face. “Thank god you’re pretty because you can be a little dumb sometimes.”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“I was talking to Lewis about you. From the moment you stood up from the table until you came back, I was talking about you.” The soft smile he loves so much comes back to your face. “We were talking about our plans for the summer, and how I’m so nervous to meet your family.”

Max lifts a hand and wipes the tears from your face, the other one finding comfort on your waist. The knot in his stomach slowly disappearing, the pain in his chest still there, still bothering him.

“I was telling him how angry I am with your awful team because they keep messing with the strategies. But that I’m so proud of you for still being in the lead, even after all the fucked up things they’re doing and the shitty car they gave you.” That makes him laugh, and feels a single tear fall. But immediately disappears thanks to you. “And Lewis agrees. He knows how talented you are and that you deserve better. If you saw me smile and do whatever you though I was doing to make you think I was flirting,” You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment. You can’t be angry at him, not when you know where he’s coming from. “I’m sorry but it was because of you. Every time someone compliments you while you’re not around, I can’t help but act like a school girl with a crush. But I’m not flirting with anyone but you. You’re the only one, dummy.”

You’re the only one.

That makes him feel warm all over. Makes his need to cry be for a totally different reason.

He looks down at you, at your pretty face and puffy eyes, your plump rosy lips that he just want to kiss to make sure you’re telling the truth. But for that he only needs to look you in the eyes just one more time and he knows. Because it’s in the way you look at him, a special spark in your eyes every time you make eye contact, every time he tells you something, anything, even the most ordinary thing.

He knows he’s the only one.

“You’re the only one too.” He whispers and you sniff, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Your laugh against his skin sends shivers down his spine. The laugh he wants to hear for the rest of his life.

“Don’t think, not even for a second, that I’m gonna let this go away as nothing.” Pulling away, you leave a soft kiss on his jaw. “We still need to talk. You need to tell me why you’re feeling this way. It’s not just for what happened tonight.”

Max knows you’re right. But he doesn’t want to have that conversation tonight, and definitely not in the middle of the parking lot.

“Let’s go home.”

“You wanna cuddle, pretty boy?” Max rolls his eyes in annoyance, but doesn’t say no.

do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own. | © verstappen-cult, 2024.