#logicality prompt fill

[tears-of-boredom]

day 3: unnecessarily complex fit

ii gotta be honest, they were originally gonna have two feet but then i couldn't figure out the perspective of their right one so i decided to just not draw it

[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Behind Closed Doors 2

You welcome Spencer back to the team with a special gesture of your own—and find yourself falling even harder for him after he opens up to you.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) sub older spence my beloved, handjob, oral (m), spit kink?, semi-public (they are FREAKY), and idk if we can call this angst but we get to know how he feels about returning to work ~3.9k words

A/n: I didn’t plan for a part two, but rewriting scenes with specific looks of him is growing on me. Also, this happens before Emily tells him to teach seminars on his leave. And tell me what you think!!

He looked good in pink.

That was an understatement, the man looked good in pretty much anything. But today? Something was different. Something looked different. His whole appearance seemed to be on point than usual. You noticed his typically tousled hair was styled and swept back, which was a very rare sight, and it was hard for you to look away.

“…as you have obviously heard, Dr. Spencer Reid has been fully reinstated,” Emily announced, snapping you back to reality. “Welcome back, Spence.”

“Whoo-hoo! Yes!” Penelope cheered, only to be met by Emily’s pointed look. “That’s not the end, is it?”

Your boss shook your head and then proceeded to continue with another announcement. You stole a glance towards him again.

Maybe it was just really his shirt that made him look good? It wasn't even overly tight, but snug enough to accentuate the lines of his broad shoulders. Has his shoulders always been that wide? Now that you think about it, he did seem to be putting on a little weight. Not that it was a bad thing, and not that you didn't like how he looked before, but you couldn't help noticing how he filled out his shirt, and for some reason, it was doing something to you. 

Probably more than something because now you wondered what other places he filled out.

A sudden round of applause filled the room, and you joined in, tearing your gaze away from him only to find Matt Simmons grinning at you. You looked away and followed everyone as they shuffled around the room, making sure to sit as far away from Spencer as possible, although luck wasn't on your side when Matt settled into the seat beside you.

"You don't seem too thrilled about me joining the team," he murmured, leaning in close.

“What do you mean? I’m always open to new faces around here.”

“Not as excited as having an old member back, though,” Matt remarked, prompting you to snap your head at him, a slight frown forming on your face. He winked teasingly, and you groaned, shoving his shoulder away. 

“Ugh, do not wink at me.”

His laughter filled the air, but it quickly faded as the atmosphere in the room turned serious. Penelope began briefing everyone on the new case, and you did your best to mask your grimace every time a gruesome picture flashed on the screen. By the time Emily called out, “Wheels up in thirty,” you rose from your seat.

To talk to him or not talk to him?

You weighed the pros and cons, sneaking a quick glance at Spencer, who was deeply absorbed in studying the case files. The logical part of your brain told you it wasn't the best time to strike up a conversation, especially with only thirty minutes left until you had to leave. But there was something about him, it felt almost instinctual, like you were naturally drawn to him, and like a magnetic force, you couldn't resist.

Oh, fuck it—you decided to approach him.

Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you made your way over to where he was sitting, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

"Hi.”

"Hey," he greeted, looking up with a small smile at the corners of his lips. "What's up?"

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

"Sure," Spencer replied, his expression curious yet amused. He set aside the files he had been studying and turned his attention fully to you.

“In private?”

There was a brief pause, and you swore you could practically cut the tension with a knife. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he rose from his seat, his gaze never wavering from yours. You tilted your head back to look at him as his presence seemed to fill the room,and you couldn't help but hold your breath as you waited for his response.

“Of course,” he finally agreed, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer before he turned, leading the way to a more secluded spot, past the bullpen, past the glass doors, and down the hallway.

Once you were both out of earshot, he leaned in. “How private are we talking about?”

You nudged his side before guiding him towards the nearest office. As you stepped inside, your heart pounded in your chest, and you quickly glanced around the room to make sure it was empty. When you confirmed it was unoccupied, you turned back to see Spencer closing the door behind him.

Then everything snapped.

You weren't sure who made the first move, whether it was you or both of you acting on instinct, but before you could process it, his lips were on yours, his arms pulling you close, tongue colliding with your own. You gasped at his eagerness and wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you pressed yourself against him.

With a boldness you didn’t know you possessed, you pushed him against the nearest wall, your hands tangling in his hair as his hands found their way to your ass, squeezing lightly. A soft moan escaped your lips and he responded by deepening the kiss further. It felt like time stood still as you lost yourself in the heat of his mouth against yours, until you finally pulled back, your lips brushing against his jaw.

“What…” He gasped when your mouth trailed lower. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned into his neck, his scent filling your senses. Why did he have to smell so good? “I think it’s your hair.”

“My… hair?”

You pulled back slightly, your fingers tracing along the collar of his shirt, your eyes roaming over the exposed skin of his chest where the top buttons were left undone. “Or maybe it’s the shirt.”

“My shirt?”

“Yes!” You half-exclaimed, half-whispered, trying to keep your voice down. “I think I’m ovulating and you’re not helping.”

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, a flush creeping up his neck as he processed your words. "Oh," he managed to say. “I didn't expect that.”

"Sorry," you apologized, feeling your cheeks warm with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to—”

But before you could say anything else, his expression softened, and his grip on your hips tightened. "Hey, it's okay," he reassured you. “It’s common for women to experience changes in their hormones during ovulation. It's completely natural and nothing to be embarrassed about."

You looked up at him, your hands sliding down his chest. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Yes, it’s just your body doing its thing,” he said reassuringly. "And honestly, it's kind of flattering to know that... I have that effect on you."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as your palms drifted lower. “What else do you know about this stuff?”

“Well, around the time of ovulation, a woman's body produces more estrogen, which can increase libido—”

His breath hitched when his eyes fell on your hand resting over his pants.

“What?” you prompted, a playful glint in your eye. “Why did you stop?”

Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly as he met your gaze. "I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I was just going to mention that… increased estrogen levels during ovulation can also lead to heightened sensitivity in erogenous zones—”

But his words trailed off into a sigh as you palmed his arousal over his pants, feeling the hardness beneath your touch. He was undeniably aroused, and the way he responded to your touch only fueled you even more. With a mischievous grin, you ran your palm up and down his length, feeling him throb in response before letting out a playful giggle.

You didn’t realize it would be this fun to be the one doing the teasing.

“Tell me more, Spence.”

He swallowed hard before managing to speak. "W-Well,” he stammered. "Increased estrogen levels can also... enhance blood flow to certain areas, leading to heightened sensitivity and... uh, increased pleasure—”

But before he could finish his sentence, you applied a little more pressure, causing him to let out a low groan of pleasure. His words faltered, his focus shifting entirely to the delicious sensation of your hand stroking him. Your eyes traveled down, watching the way his cock pressed against the fabric of his pants, noting how thick and hard he was. 

But as your gaze lingered, you caught sight of the time on your watch, and reality came crashing back in. You reluctantly pulled your hand away from him, and Spencer blinked at your sudden withdrawal, his desire-clouded mind trying to focus on you.

“What's wrong?” He whispered. “Why did you stop?”

“I… I kind of got carried away, I’m sorry," you noted. "We should probably get back before they start to wonder where we are."

He went still, and so did you. The room’s air conditioner hummed softly, filling the silence as you both simply stared at each other. When he didn’t respond, you slowly backed away and moved toward the door, but his grip on your arm stopped you. You turned towards him, eyebrows raised while he seemed to hesitate to say the next words.

After a moment, he sighed, his gaze softening as he finally found the words he was looking for.

“The other day, after we… you know,” he emphasized, and you nodded, urging him to continue. “I had to deal with this myself.”

His eyes flicked over the bulge in his pants and you stifled a laugh, amused at his sudden fluster. “Yeah, you said you were going to ignore it.”

“I didn’t,” he replied. “I couldn’t.”

“And?”

“And…” he hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a moment before meeting yours again.

There was a moment of silence until you realized what he was implying. You gasped, the hand he wasn’t holding covering your mouth in shock. “Here?” you asked in disbelief. “At work?”

His cheeks flushed, but he nodded sheepishly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “In the bathroom.”

“Spencer,” you exclaimed in a hushed tone, “That’s...”

“I know, I know,” he cut in, his tone self-deprecating. “But in my defense, it was all your fault.”

You giggled. “Me? I barely touched you!”

"Exactly, but it was enough to drive me crazy,” he said, and when he saw you laughing, he gave you a deadpanned look. “It’s not funny.”

“Oh come on, it kind of is.” You shook your head in amusement. “Why are you telling me this?”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “Because I don’t want to leave this room and deal with it by myself again.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Is this your way of asking me to touch you?”

His eyes widened almost cartoonishly wide, the flush creeping up his cheeks contrasting against the paleness of his skin, making his reaction all the more apparent.

“Please?”

You couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at your lips. “Spencer, we only have…” You glanced over your watch. “Fifteen minutes left.”

“I can probably finish in five.”

You bit your bottom lip. How did you end up in this predicament all over again? Although this time, you felt like you had the upper hand, and somehow, it was strangely exciting to see him so affected, to have him practically begging for your touch when you were supposed to be in a hurry.

He looked at you expectantly. How could you say no when his eyes were wide and pleading? 

“You know what?” You turned to him fully, taking a step forward. “I think you deserve it. It’s your first day back, after all.”

Before you could second guess yourself, you reached for him again. His breath hitched slightly as you undid his belt and slowly lowered the zipper of his pants. His arousal strained against the fabric and you briefly met his gaze. Without a word, you slid your hand inside his pants, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

He felt full in your hand and painfully hard. When his response was nothing but his ragged breathing, you reached for the waistband of his briefs with your other hand, pulling down slightly until his cock was freed from its confines. 

“Spence, you’re so…” Your voice trailed off, eyes fixated on him. The tip was thick and bulbous, a deeper shade than the shaft where pulsing veins ran up the long length. You were mesmerized by his size; it wasn’t too big nor too small, just perfect.

“You’re so pretty.”

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he looked back at you. “You think so?”

You nodded, feeling the heat and the weight of him in your grasp. A droplet of wetness glistened on the tip, and unable to resist, your thumb brushed along it, earning a sharp intake of breath from him as his hips instinctively bucked against your touch. With a newfound confidence, you wrapped your hand around him, feeling his hardness pulsating against your palm. 

The skin was soft as you’d expected, warm to the touch, but his length was stiff and throbbing when you squeezed. If you stayed still, you were sure you could count his heartbeat. As your hand moved up and down tentatively, trying to take in every detail of his member, you couldn’t believe you were finally feeling each vein that bulged up his shaft.

“Do you mind if I spit on it?”

He let out a low groan, his head falling back against the wall. “No.”

“Really? Coming from someone who’s germaphobic?” You smiled amusedly. "I thought you'd be more concerned about hygiene."

"I'll make an exception for this."

You couldn't help but laugh at his response. Trusting your instincts, you craned your neck down and let the liquid spill from your mouth, coating his tip in a steady flow. Your saliva glistened in the light, slowly trickling down the length of his cock. Then you began to stroke him gently, you felt him respond eagerly, his breaths growing heavier and his hips rocking gently against your hand.

His head fell back against the wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “God, that feels…” 

Feeling a surge of pride at his reaction, you couldn’t resist teasing him further. “Is this how you touched yourself in the bathroom?”

He swallowed hard, his breath hitching as he met your gaze. 

“Were you thinking of me?” You pressed on. “Did you imagine me touching you like this?”

His response was barely a whisper, but you caught it. “Yes…”

His breath was warm against your face, and you looked up, taking in the way he was looking at you through half-lidded eyes, lips parted as soft moans slipped out of his mouth. Who would’ve thought he made the prettiest sounds? You knew he was trying to keep his voice down, but the sight of him struggling to suppress his pleasure only made it more thrilling.

“Or did you imagine me getting on my knees, taking you in my mouth?” you teased, your voice low and sultry as you traced your tongue along your bottom lip. “Did you picture yourself deep inside of me, how tight and wet I would be?”

His forehead dipped until it was resting against yours, breaking the self-control he was desperately trying to maintain. “Oh god—I-I can’t hold it any longer.”

Your response was simply to increase your speed, your fist moving in fast short strokes up his leaking cock. He was slick with arousal, and you focused your attention on the sensitive tip, prompting even louder sounds of pleasure from him.

“Wait—" he gripped your wrist, forcing you to stop. “I’m so close.”

You frowned, watching the conflict play out in his expression. "I thought you wanted this?"

“I know, it’s just—“ His brows furrowed, a hint of desperation in his eyes as he struggled to maintain control. Then, with a defeated sigh, he admitted, “I don’t want to make a mess.”

You scanned the room, your mind racing for a solution. The office offered no privacy, and there was nothing around to help clean up the mess he would definitely make, so you needed a different approach.

Without hesitation, you got down on your knees.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“You’re gonna—” he gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Shh,” you hushed, lightly hitting his thigh. “Just help me hold my hair up.”

He hesitated for a moment, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable. Slowly, he reached out, gathering your hair in his hands. You felt the warmth of his fingers against your scalp, his touch gentle yet firm. You leaned in, your mouth hovering just inches from his swollen tip as you glanced up, meeting his eyes one last time before you took him into your mouth.

The taste of him was intoxicating, and you could feel every twitch and throb as you wrapped your lips around him. His grip on your hair tightened, a guttural moan escaping his lips, your tongue swirling around his tip, tasting the salty bead of arousal that had formed there. His hips bucked involuntarily, and you took him deeper, jaw stretching wide as you struggled to get every inch of him inside your mouth while wrapping your hand around what was left.

You moved slowly at first, getting used to the feel of him in your mouth. It didn’t take long until your mouth was working in tandem with your hand, creating a rhythm that had his body shaking. The room was quickly filled with the sounds of his ragged breathing and soft moans, and you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. There you were, hiding behind an empty office with the potential of getting caught. 

But you didn’t care, nor did Spencer, as he held your hair and bucked his hips into your mouth. You could feel the tension building in him, his breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. He was so, so close, and you wanted to push him over the edge. You quickened your pace, your mouth moving up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks to create a tighter seal.

His moans grew louder, and you could tell he was struggling to keep quiet. “Please,” he whined, his voice strained. “I-I’m gonna…”

A choked gasp cut off his words as he reached his climax, his release hitting the back of your throat in hot, pulsing waves. You swallowed him down, savoring the taste of him, the warmth spreading through you as you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. His expression was one of pure ecstasy, mixed with a hint of disbelief and awe.

As he slowly came down from his high, his grip on your hair loosened, and he gently helped you to your feet. "That was..." he trailed off, still catching his breath. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. Besides, I think you deserved it,” you said before pointing a finger at him. “But we can’t keep doing this at work.”

He looked at you, amusement and disbelief dancing in his eyes as he adjusted his clothes. You could almost read his thoughts: you were the one who initiated this, not once, but twice. The first time might have been out of panic, but this time, it was all you.

“I’m serious,” you said, crossing your arms to emphasize your point. “Now that you’re back, we should keep a certain distance between us. No more sneaking around.”

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile curling at the corners of his mouth. But then you watched as his expression suddenly shifted, as if he remembered something and his smile turned into a frown followed by the furrow of his eyebrows.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He glanced at you, his hands sinking into the front pockets of his slacks. “I haven’t told this to anyone but… there’s a condition to my reinstatement.”

“What do you mean?” 

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “For every hundred days that I spend on the field, I’m required to take thirty days off.” 

You blinked, processing the information. “Wait, what? So you’re not fully back?”

“Technically I am, just not how I want it to be.”

You watched as his shoulders slightly fell. “You’re not happy about this, are you?”

“What am I supposed to do on my days off? A whole month of sitting around in my apartment doing nothing?”

You took a step closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “You’re not going to be sitting around doing nothing. Think of it as an opportunity. You can catch up on your reading, maybe even take a trip somewhere.”

He shook his head. “That’s not the same. I want to be out there, doing my job, helping people. It’s what I’m good at.”

“I know,” you said softly. “But you can’t give your best if you’re burnt out. These breaks could help you recharge, keep you sharp.”

He sighed, looking down at the floor. “I just feel like I’m being benched, like they don’t trust me fully.”

You tugged his arm, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Hey, they trust you. This is about keeping you safe. After everything you went through… Spence, you deserve this break. They just want to make sure you’re at your best every time you’re back in the field.”

When he didn’t seem to fully absorb your words, you pressed on.

“Think about it, you have so many options. You could pick up a new hobby, spend more time with your mom... or finally visit those places you’ve always talked about. Like that museum you mentioned before, what was it called again?”

His gaze softened as he listened to your suggestions. "The Smithsonian," he replied after a moment, a small smile playing on his lips. “I've always wanted to spend a whole day there without rushing.”

"Exactly! Now you'll have the time to do that."

He nodded slowly, the tension easing from his shoulders. "I guess you're right.”

“See? It’s all about perspective.”

His lips curved into a smile as you both fell into silence. Then, he studied you, his eyes scanning your features as if trying to decipher the thoughts swirling in your mind through the subtle shifts of your expression.

“Will you come with me?” 

Your heart skipped a beat, and your breath caught in your throat at the unexpected question.

“You want me to come with you to the museum?”

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice soft, almost quiet. "Will you?"

It was a simple question, but it held a weight that you couldn't ignore. You had spent plenty of time together, grabbing lunch, chatting at the coffee shop down the road. But this felt… different. More personal. More intimate.

And suddenly it came crashing to you. You were so absorbed in what was happening between you, the stolen kisses, the physical attraction, that you didn’t realize your friendship was never going to be the same again.

On one hand, the idea of spending more time alone with him was undeniably tempting, but the rational part of you wasn’t sure if it was the wisest thing to do. He was your friend, a good one at that, and getting emotionally involved with friends could either strengthen or strain the relationship.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you searched for the right words. But before you could answer him, both of your phones vibrated with a notification. You both looked at your own devices and read the message.

“We’re leaving now,” Spencer announced, shoving back his phone in his pocket. “We should go.”

You nodded slowly, your gaze lingering on the door for a moment longer before you turned towards him. “You know what? You should head out first. I need some time to myself.”

He furrowed his brows slightly. You could tell he wanted to ask more questions, but he didn’t press on. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you replied. “Just give me a minute and I’ll follow behind.”

His eyes lingered on you for another second before he nodded, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “Sure, I’ll save a seat for you.”

You returned his smile, though it felt more like a grimace as you watched him exit the room. The click of the door closing behind him seemed to echo in the sudden silence, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts as the rush of emotions flooded over you. It felt as if you were standing at the edge of a precipice, unsure whether to leap or retreat.

With a deep breath, you pressed a hand to your chest, trying to calm the fluttering inside. But the truth was undeniable—you were falling for him, and you were falling fast.

[peachesofteal]

Light On- single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: 1 of 2 for sickfics / requested by multiple

I’m going to need a raincheck for dinner tonight. 

Simon frowns at his phone. You’re bailing? You seemed excited about it when he asked earlier in the week, offering to take you and Emmaline down the street to the little café on the corner for dinner. It had taken him days to work up the courage, needlessly pushed on by Johnny’s ‘encouragement’ relentless text messages filled with date ideas, and bad pick-up lines. 

Still, you had said yes. Had asked if meant Emma too, and he took secret pleasure in the way you seemed so relieved when he tilted his head and told you, of course.

Okay. Is everything alright? He fires back immediately, wondering if the crying that he’s been hearing on and off all morning has anything to do with you backing out. 

I’m not feeling great, and neither is Emma. I think we’re coming down with something. Coming down with something, like you’re sick? You’re sick? Anxiety twists in the pit of his stomach, worrying curling his fingers into a fist with a clench. 

Alright. Let me know if you need anything? He waits for a text back, an answer of some kind, an assurance that you’ll seek him out if you need help or need anything. 

It never comes. 

Six hours later, Simon is at your door. 

He has grit his teeth through the day, paced around his own flat endlessly, tried everything he could think of to distract himself. Every time he heard Emmaline wail, his stomach flipped, worry, fear, breaking down his logical sense, the analytical part of his brain until he was standing in front of your door, waiting for the inevitable click of the handle. 

When it comes, and you’re standing on the other side, his heart sinks. 

He should have come over soon. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” He says it as softly as he can, a newfound pitch of his voice that seems to only be reserved for you, trying to allay the panic that has started to form as ice inside his chest. 

“Sorry about the noise.” You croak, and he smothers his wince. You sound awful, voice nearly gone, like your throat has been rubbed raw with sandpaper. Emmaline is clad only in a diaper, and when he looks closer, he can see the stain of what he thinks must be her vomit on your shirt. Over your shoulder, dirty bottles, dishes lay stacked next to the sink, a laundry basket with a mountain of baby clothes piled high sits on the table. 

“Can I help-“ You sway, arm tightening around the baby, and he doesn’t think, doesn’t stop himself, he just moves.“Alright,” He murmurs, wrapping an arm around you, supporting both you and Emmaline by shifting you into his side, one hand against Emma’s back. She feels warm, but not nearly as hot as you, and panic tries to bubble up his throat again at the blaring heat that’s coming from your skin. “I’ve got you.” 

“Sorry, ‘m a little dizzy.” 

“It’s okay.” He keeps you close, turning you back through the door. Emma makes scratchy, unhappy noises, and he rubs his thumb against her skin. “Shhh. I know, I know. You’re okay.” You lean into him harder, and he accommodates it, moving the two of you towards the couch. “I know, you’re not feeling too good are you?” He says to Emma after he gets you down on the couch, hands now around her back, waiting for a sign of permission from you to lift her. 

“She can go down. If you-“ Your breath gets caught in your chest, and you curl forward, his hand going to your shoulder, your body shaking with a cough. “If you want to try.” You whisper once you recover, brows knitted together in misery, and he cradles her, rocking her back and forth, mimicking your usual movements. 

“You stay right here.” He nods to the couch, using a fraction of the voice he uses on Johnny, and you immediately nod, eyes shuttering closed with a slow blink. “Just rest.” 

Emmaline is still crying when he opens the door to her room, the first he’s seen it, pale green walls and dark wood crib, small rocker in the corner next to a changing table. It’s a comforting space, decorated and cared for with love, and for a moment, his mind wanders to an image of you, painting the walls with a swollen belly, or curled in the plush rocker, reading a book to Emmaline, still nestled inside you. He wasn’t there for it, but he just knows you were so beautiful, the kind of glow that would have stopped him in the street. You still stop him in the street. 

Emma wails, bringing him back to reality with a softer cry than earlier, and he keeps her close to his chest, murmuring low and soft. “Shhh. You’re alright, baby girl. You’re okay.” He continues the rocking side to side thing you usually do in a standing position, mumbling things to her, stroking his fingers down her cheek, her forehead, bouncing and swaying at the same. “Are you not feeling too good? Is that what’s got you all upset? Yeah. I get kind of grumpy when I don’t feel good either.” He coos, little lashes slowly blinking up at him, transfixed on his face during his stream of chatter until they begin to slip shut, her mouth still hanging half open. He holds his breath, staring in astonishment at her sleeping face, half shocked, half ridiculously pleased.

“Have you taken anything?” He barely sits on your ottoman, leaning over to get a better look at you, uncomfortable with the way your eyes seem glazed over, how slow they are to react. Maybe you need to go to the hospital? 

“Some naproxen, a bit ago.”  You look exhausted, eyelids heavy, and he can’t stop himself from pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. 

“You’re really warm, sweetheart. Do you need a doctor?” Tell me what to do, he wants to beg. Tell me how to help.

“No, jus’ sleep.” A confused look flickers across your face. “Oh my god, did you…” you swallow a cough, his hand sliding down to cup your shoulder, thumb soft against your dirty t shirt. “did you get her down?” He nods, slowly, fighting the small grin that tugs at his lips. 

“Wow.” You breathe, and your hand drags up your chest to where his still sits on your arm, fingers intertwining in his with a small squeeze. “You really are our hero.” He smiles at you, because how can he not, heart warm and full in his chest, the feeling something he hasn’t experienced in a long, long time. 

There’s a moment, a second extended into a minute, maybe an hour, he’s not sure, where you don’t look away from him. Where you look at him, really look at him, and see him, see his twice broken nose, the scar on his cheek, the one above his eyebrow. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t try to hide or look away, just holds himself still, staring down at you on the couch, sweat dotting your forehead and neck, still beautiful with your fever parched skin and tired eyes. 

“Simon.” You whisper, and he thinks, maybe… he’s supposed to kiss you right now. That if he were braver, if Johnny were here to egg him on, if he felt like it wasn’t taking advantage of your weakened state… he might. But instead- 

“Why don’t you close your eyes, love. Try to get some rest. I’ll stay. See if I can get some of these dishes done. I can get her if she gets up.” 

“You don’t have-“ 

“I know.” He soothes. “I know I don’t, but I’m here. Let me help.” Let me help you. Let me be here. 

You take a deep breath, as deep as you can manage, and then your voice is light, but so sweet, and so, so trusting when you say;

“Okay, Simon.” 

[lostfracturess]

symptoms and causes | ch. 01

ღ pairing professor gojo x med student reader

ღ summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

ღ wc 13.1 k

ღ warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood / abuse, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

ღ author's note so exited to start this series!! dive in and let me know what you think—i love hearing your thoughts! & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world !! ♡ (fanart in the header)

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

next chapter ->

"Who's that?"

Every gaze in the room turned towards you.

"She's my student—," Dr. Geto responded, a trace of amusement twisting his lip. He didn't have to follow Dr. Gojo's stare to know its target. "—a first-year medical student."

A murmur rippled through the group of students, their eyes stinging like needles in your neck. You were acutely aware of your position—the youngest, the least experienced, an outsider among those who had studied for years.

"What?" Gojo's voice sliced through the air. He turned his scrutinizing gaze towards Geto. "You brought a fucking first-year into my operating room?"

Ouch.

Geto chuckled. "Relax, Satoru. She's good."

Gojo's expression tightened. He turned back to you, those unnervingly bright blue eyes raking over you from behind his surgical glasses. It made your skin crawl. "You, first-year. Bypass, endovascular, or direct microsurgical approach?"

The air in the operating room was thick.

Dr. Geto and Dr. Gojo had been circling the issue for at least half an hour, dissecting strategies as if the patient weren't laid skull open before them, the aneurysm a ticking time bomb in the patient's brain.

None of the students dared to move, too terrified to even breathe. It was a test. But hesitation wasn't in your vocabulary.

"You should do a hybrid approach. Start with endovascular coiling to reduce the risk of rupture. Parallel prep for a bypass, using intraoperative Doppler for flow assessment. Stabilize, then microsurgical clipping. Definitive closure."

Silence filled the room. Somehow the eyes of the other students stinging even more now. Your boldness given such a complex situation was either brilliance or audacity—perhaps both.

Geto's laughter broke the tension. "I might've forgotten to mention—she's my best student."

Gojo's gaze lingered on you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "That's some complex shit you suggest. The endovascular coiling has to be precise to reduce the risk of aneurysm rupture, and then we switch to microsurgery in an already compromised field."

"Complex, yes, but you have no other choice. The endovascular phase provides stabilization, making the surgical field less treacherous for clipping," you countered.

"And the risk of thrombosis?" Gojo pressed.

"Could happen."

"Could happen?" Gojo repeated. "That's your statement on that?"

"It's either the hybrid approach, or the patient is dead anyway," you said, maintaining his unyielding gaze.

"Is this woman serious?" Gojo murmured, almost inaudibly. His gaze shifted to Geto, seeking perhaps a silent judgment or agreement. Geto, following the exchange with an unreadable smile, seemed more amused than concerned.

"So?" Geto prompted.

Gojo's gaze snapped back to you, his eyes raking over you as if searching for a flaw in your logic. His silence stretched taut between you, a wordless evaluation. Finally, the verdict, "Let's proceed with the hybrid approach."

You exhaled sharply, only then realizing you'd been holding your breath.

A flurry of activity erupted as the nurses prepared for the surgery you'd proposed. You watched closely as the surgeons moved with practiced precision around the patient's exposed brain tissue—both undoubtedly the best neurosurgeons in the country.

"Your name," Dr. Gojo demanded, his focus still on the task at hand. "What is it?"

You gave your name in response.

He repeated your name, as if testing how the name felt. "Do you always approach problems with such boldness?"

"If the situation demands it."

Something in his masked face shifted, a subtle expression that might have been a smile. Whatever it was, it seemed out of place.

"Interesting."

─── ·✧· ───

The corridors of Tokyo Medical University were bustling with life, echoing the footsteps and chatter of students. Lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces, you stood somewhat disoriented in front of the map of the University. Finding your way to your anatomy class felt like an impossible task, especially with less than four minutes on the clock.

It was your first day.

And already the middle of the semester.

Definitely not a good start to come late.

The university you used to attend was half this size, and somehow you already missed it. But who would turn down the opportunity to study at the country's most prestigious medical university? Especially with the chance to learn from the most renowned neurosurgeons teaching there?

So here you were.

Two minutes left.

All of a sudden, someone ran into you, causing you to fall to the ground.

"Whoa, sorry! I'm so sorry!" You looked up to see a guy with tousled black hair and noticeable dark circles under his eyes. He quickly extended a hand to help you up. "Are you okay?"

Brushing off your clothes, you nodded and accepted his hand, feeling a surprising strength as he easily pulled you back to your feet.

"You new here?" he asked, studying your face. "You seem a bit lost."

The subtle irony in his comment almost coaxed a smile out of you, especially considering his own worn-out look. "Yeah, it's my first day, and I'm already running late. I'm trying to find Dr. Ieiri's anatomy class."

"No way, that's my class too! Come on, I'll show you, but we need to make it quick," he responded, already moving ahead with a sense of urgency. You hastened to keep pace with his swift strides.

"I'm Yuta Okkotsu, by the way," he introduced himself as you weaved through the bustling corridors. "So, what's the story behind your mid-semester transfer?"

"I was at a different medical school, but then got this offer to transfer here."

Yuta's eyes widened slightly. "An offer to transfer? That's pretty impressive. You must be quite talented."

"I'm not so sure about that, I think I just got lucky."

Yuta led the way through the bustling corridors, his familiarity with the campus evident in every confident turn he took. Finally, you arrived at the large doors of the auditorium where Dr. Ieiri's anatomy class was supposed to be held. Pushing the doors open, you both slipped inside, but there was no sign of the professor yet.

"Made it," Yuta gasped, a grin spreading across his face despite the shortness of breath. "With, uh, time to spare!" He glanced at his watch. "Okay, maybe not."

Yuta, still catching his breath, gestured towards a group sitting near the back. "Come on, you can sit with us. My friends are cool, I promise."

As you followed, you noticed a girl with striking green hair. She was leafing through a thick textbook with an expression that suggested she found the content less than challenging. "That's Maki," Yuta whispered to you. "Don't let her scare you—she's actually really nice."

Maki looked up as you approached. "New student?"

"Transfer student actually," Yuta corrected. "Is Inumaki also running late?"

Before Maki could respond, the doors swung open. But instead of Dr. Ieiri, Dr. Satoru Gojo stepped in, his presence as commanding as when you first saw him.

No way.

The room fell into an instant hush. Dr. Gojo sauntered to the front of the auditorium, his silver hair gleaming in the gentle sun.

"Good morning, class," he began, his voice effortlessly filling the hall. "Dr. Ieiri is unavailable today, so I'll be taking you through the nervous system."

He scribbled his name on the board, one hand nonchalantly tucked into his trouser pocket. Turning back to face the class, he rolled up his sleeves, his captivating blue eyes even more striking without the barrier of surgical glasses.

As his gaze swept across the students, it abruptly landed on you. For a split second, his confident demeanor wavered, replaced by a flicker of surprise crossing his features.

"The first-year?"

Following his gaze, all heads turned towards you—dozens of stabbing eyes.

Fantastic, center stage yet again.

You locked eyes with Gojo for a heartbeat, maybe a minute, maybe a year. Heat spread all over your skin. His lips parted slightly, as if he was about to say something, but then he cleared his throat and regained his professional poise.

"As I was saying," he turned his attention back to the class, "—since Dr. Ieiri isn't here, we'll dive deeper into the nervous system. So listen well."

His eyes met yours one more time before he launched into the lecture.

─── ·✧· ───

As the lecture came to an end, the students began to gather their belongings. You also began to pack up your notes, still processing the intense lecture Dr. Gojo had just given. It was clear—he was not a professor who took it easy on his students.

"Should we grab a bite? We've got a few minutes before the next class," Yuta suggested, glancing at both you and Maki as you made your way towards the exit. But just as you were about to step out, Dr. Gojo's voice halted you in your tracks.

"Not you, first-year."

The remaining students cast curious glances your way as they continued to file out of the auditorium. Yuta paused, his gaze shifting between you and Dr. Gojo.

"I'll catch up later," you said to him. He nodded before disappearing with the last of the students.

Turning back, you found Dr. Gojo leaning nonchalantly against his desk with his arms crossed. His intense gaze was focused on you. The room quickly emptied, leaving only the two of you.

"I'm curious, what brings a first-year into an operating room?" he finally broke the silence.

"Dr. Geto invited me to observe."

"Dr. Geto?" he echoed, pushing himself off from the desk and taking a few steps closer. "How did you come to know him?"

"He invited me to transfer here," you explained. "He's overseeing a research project that I'm a part of."

"You what? You mean you're working with him on the neuroprosthetics?"

"Yes," you simply said.

He paused for a moment, then let out a chuff before taking a few deliberate steps closer. "Tell me, what did it take for you to get into this university? To become part of Suguru's team as a mere first-year student?"

Your brows furrowed slightly. "Are you insinuating something, Dr. Gojo?"

His lips curled into a half-smile, his approach halting just a breath away from you. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of suggesting anything untoward, like a student getting ahead by... unconventional means. That'd be highly inappropriate, wouldn't it?"

The air around you seemed to thicken as he loomed closer, his tall frame nearly casting a shadow over you against the backdrop of the window.

"I didn't know you were even Suguru's type," he continued.

Was he for real?

He knew nothing. 

Nothing about the countless hours you'd poured into your studies. Nothing about the sleepless nights spent devouring research papers. Nothing about the relentless drive that had earned you recognition in the scientific community despite your young age. And here he was, accusing you of fucking your way up the ladder.

"Why? Are you jealous?" The words slipped out before you could think.

Gojo's eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched. "I can see why Suguru took an interest."

The intensity of his gaze was unnerving, yet you found yourself unable to look away. It was as if he was trying to read your very thoughts, peeling back layers with nothing but his piercing blue eyes.

For a moment, his gaze drifted downward, lingering on your lips. Your pulse quickened, a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. "Too bad, I'm on the neuroprosthetics team too," he remarked. "We'll be seeing quite a bit of each other, it seems."

Suddenly, he stepped back, breaking the intensity of the moment. "Make sure you live up to the expectations, first-year. I won't go easy on you just because you're a rookie."

With those final words, he turned away, leaving you standing in the midst of the empty auditorium, your mind racing.

Was he for real real?

─── ·✧· ───

"Ugh, I hate that guy!"

Geto looked up from his desk, a single eyebrow raised in response to your dramatic entrance into his office. "That guy?"

"I mean Dr. Gojo," you clarified, pacing the room. "I can't keep up with his arrogance."

He leaned back in his chair, regarding you with a calm, measured gaze. "He's not as bad as you think. You just need to get to know him better."

Know him better?

Yeah, that was the least you wanted to do.

"He just accused me of sleeping with you to get into this university!"

The words tumbled out of your mouth, more bluntly than you intended. Your relationship with Geto had always been somewhat informal, feeling more like a friendship. But this level of frankness was a step further than usual. But the anger and frustration boiling inside you made it impossible to hold back.

Geto couldn't suppress a laugh. "Sounds like something he would say," he mused, interlacing his fingers behind his head.

You stopped pacing the room and turned to face him. "Ha?"

"Listen," Geto began. "Gojo is a good man. He's always worked hard, so it might be a little irritating for him to see someone new get the recognition he's worked for years to get."

"But I've worked hard too," you countered.

"I know," Geto leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk. "That's why I invited you here, to be part of my research team. He'll see your potential sooner or later." A warm smile played on his lips.

"So I just have to wait for his approval?"

"It looks like it," Geto shrugged.

Great.

"Besides we need him on this project, so it's best if you two find a way to get along. You'll learn a lot working with Gojo," he added.

You sighed. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Gojo is not easily impressed. But I have a feeling that you made quite an impression on him with your boldness in the operating room the other day. Not many students would suggest such an approach as you did."

"Is that a compliment?"

"You can take it as one, yes," he replied with a chuckle. He then stood up and began packing his bag. "Oh, and also, we're starting work on the project tomorrow, right after your last class."

Fantastic.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes," he confirmed, nodding. "I think it's best we dive right in. Gojo will be there too, of course. It'll be a good opportunity for both of you to start fresh." His smile widened, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

You couldn't help but feel he was somewhat enjoying the situation.

─── ·✧· ───

The air was filled with the sterile scent of preservatives.

Anatomy class was in full swing, the only sound being the quiet murmur of focused students. You stood at your desk next to Yuta, Maki, and Toge, each of you meticulously dissecting and examining organs under the microscope. But your mind was elsewhere, lost in a blur of thoughts about the research project starting later that day.

As you sliced an organ in half with a practiced hand, your gaze drifted unfocused, the image under the microscope blurring. A wave of nausea washed over you. Perhaps it was the onset of the flu, or perhaps it was a convenient excuse to avoid facing Gojo later.

"Hey, you okay?" Yuta's voice pulled you back to the present. You realized you had been staring blankly at the tissue sample for longer than necessary. 

"Yeah, just thinking about the project later."

Maki glanced over, her eyes sharp behind her safety glasses. "With Dr. Gojo, right? That's going to be—interesting."

You paused. "What do you mean?"

"Dr. Gojo, well, he's notorious for being an ass," Maki said, her focus still on her own dissection. "He's undeniably a genius, but he's also—brutal. He has a way of pushing students to their limits, often too far."

Fantastic. 

Just what you needed to hear.

Your stomach churned. "I had a feeling about that."

"His standards are high, and he's not exactly gentle in his criticism. If you don't meet his expectations, he'll let you know, and not kindly," she continued. "He's made more than a few students question their life choices."

"Yeah, I've heard similar stories. You either meet his expectations or you're pretty much done," Yuta added.

The thought of working with Dr. Gojo was getting more fun by the minute. 

Maybe you should call in sick.

Toge contributed his one-word insight, "God complex," which seemed to perfectly sum up the mood of the conversation about Dr. Gojo.

"But—," Maki interjected, finally looking up, "—he's still the best in his field. If you can handle the pressure, he's undoubtedly the one to learn from."

Yeah, but what was the price for that?

You let out a tired sigh. 

Returning to your task, you carefully aligned the organ under the microscope. Gojo was intimidating, no doubt, but you had worked your ass off to reach this point. You weren't going to back down just because he was a dick. After all, Geto was also working on the project, so how bad could it possibly be then?

You glanced up from the microscope to adjust its focus. However, you couldn't help but notice Yuta. He glanced at Maki over his microscope with this look—that certain look.

Interesting.

─── ·✧· ─── 

"Your idea is just ridiculous!"

"Oh really? Yours is just shit!"

You didn't know how it ended up like this. It was barely two minutes into the discussion about a critical aspect of the research project, and here you were, shouting at each other. The entire lab had gone silent, all eyes glued to the heated exchange. Geto, leaning against a counter, watched the scene unfold with an amused smile playing on his lips.

"Your approach could compromise the entire neural interface integration," you argued. "It's too aggressive and doesn't take into account the potential for neural tissue damage."

Gojo was standing so close, that you could see the flecks of color in his eyes, feel the heat radiating off him. And could probably spit in his face.

Maybe you should do that.

His approach was risky—dangerous even. How could he not see that? 

"It's necessary," Gojo countered. "—playing it safe doesn't always work."

Yeah, you know that. But not in this case, not with this patient. It was borderline reckless.

"There's a fine line between a breakthrough and recklessness," you shot back.

"You're so naive," he retorted, stepping even closer. "You don't understand when it's time to take some risks."

You stared at him. "Taking risks? No, you're just being insane!"

"You—" he started but Geto quickly intervened. 

"Alright, that's enough for now," he said, placing a hand on each of your shoulders, physically creating space between you and Gojo. "Let's take a break."

But Gojo's eyes never left yours, unbroken even as Geto gently shoved him backwards. You stood there, your breath ragged, your heart racing. Around you, the lab slowly came back to life as the others resumed their tasks, occasionally stealing glances in your direction.

"Could you get us some coffee?" Geto asked, pressing a few bills into your hand.

Yeah. Sure.

You nodded. The unexpected surge of adrenaline that had coursed through your veins didn't leave you needing caffeine, but hell, you took anything that would get you away from him. As you made your way out of the lab, you could still feel his gaze on you.

Taking your time, you wandered to the cafeteria. Okay, maybe you just didn't find the way. But you didn't really care. The university was already empty at this hour. The moonlight streamed through the windows, casting long shadows that danced along the walls.

By the time you returned to the lab, the coffee had grown cold in your hands. Geto immediately perked up at your return, pushing himself away from his desk and walking over to you. "Ah, great," he said with a smile, taking a cup from your hands. "Thanks."

Your gaze shifted to Gojo, who hadn't moved an inch, his attention seemingly absorbed by the computer screen in front of him. Without a word, you placed his cup on his desk.

The rest of the evening was a blur of lab work, discussions, and planning.

You were focused on analyzing a blood sample to identify specific markers and genetic predispositions to determine if a patient was eligible for research. Normally an easy task, but your concentration began to waver.

Glancing at the clock, you noticed that it was well past midnight. The lab was quiet, most of the equipment was turned off, and the only light was the dim glow of a few workstations. Geto had left some time ago, urging you to do the same, but you stayed. It would take longer to continue your work tomorrow than to finish it now.

However, each test you ran seemed to produce inconclusive or erratic results. You rechecked the protocols, ran the tests again, but the results were still the same. Exhaustion was clouding your judgment, leading you to make mistakes you wouldn't normally make.

After yet another failed attempt, you let out a sigh and rubbed your tired eyes.

How was this so fucking hard all of a sudden?

"Let me help you," said a voice from behind you. It was Gojo. You thought he had already left, or maybe you were just so focused on your own task. You felt his presence close behind you as he leaned in to examine the blood sample results on the screen.

"See here," he said, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath. He reached around you to steer the controls, his arms encircling you. Your skin heated. "The centrifugation speed and time must be precisely calibrated. It affects the separation of cellular components, which is critical for accurate marker identification."

You nodded slightly, even though you already knew that. Somehow, you were now a bit ashamed of your own sudden stupidity. As the sample was prepared and placed for analysis, his presence remained close, his body heat and the soft cadence of his breathing a constant distraction. The results started to display on the screen, this time showing the definitive patterns you had been seeking.

"No need to thank me," Gojo said, straightening up—giving you some much-needed air to breathe. "You should go home, it's late."

You glanced at the clock on the wall. Yeah, you should really go home.

As Gojo moved towards the door, he paused briefly, his hand resting on the handle. "Burning out won't do you, or the project, any good."

You watched him for a moment. Somehow, in the dim light, his features softened the usually sharp lines of his face. "Are you concerned?"

"Concerned that you mess this project up," he said with a grin on his lips.

You let out a tired sigh. "Of course."

─── ·✧· ─── 

Another day. Another fight.

The tension in the lab was palpable as you and Gojo stood across from each other. The issue had resurfaced. So had the friction between your methods. Your opposing views seemed like an insurmountable chasm.

"You're not considering the long-term implications of your approach," you insisted, your voice tinged with frustration. "We need to think about patient recovery, not just the immediate results."

"The primary goal is to ensure the success of the procedure. Your 'cautious' tactics might compromise the project's objectives," Gojo retorted.

You bristled at his words. "It's not about being cautious—it's about being thorough and responsible. We can't afford to overlook potential complications."

The debate intensified, each point you made met with a sharp rebuttal from Gojo. As the argument escalated, he took a step closer, his blue eyes locked on yours. "Your method will not work, first-year. Playing it safe will kill this patient."

His proximity was overwhelming, and for a moment, you lost your train of thought, caught up in the intensity of his gaze. "My method will keep him alive," you managed to say, trying to regain your composure.

Before he could respond, you glanced at the clock on the wall and realized with a start that you were late for your class. "I have to go," you said abruptly, the urgency of the situation breaking the tension.

"We're not done with this discussion," Gojo snapped.

"Yeah, whatever," you said as you hurried out of the lab and rushed to your class. 

Gojo let out a low hiss under his breath. As you left the lab, Geto approached him, his expression serious despite the hint of a smile on his lips. Some might say he looked scary.

"Satoru," Geto began. "Can we talk for a minute?"

Gojo turned, his posture stiffening. "About what?"

Geto crossed his arms, leaning back against a lab table. "Could you please stop pissing off my precious student?"

"Ha?" he said, raking a hand through his hair. "Are you seriously siding with her?"

"I am," Geto confirmed. "I wanted her on this project because she and I are on the same page."

"Of course you are."

"Satoru, I don't want to throw you off this project, so please try to find a middle ground with her. Give her a chance."

Gojo exhaled sharply, the lines on his face softening slightly. "Your approach is too cautious. It won't work."

Geto maintained his calm demeanor. "We'll see."

"Fine," Gojo finally conceded. "I'll try to—work with her. On one condition."

"And what's that?" Geto asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We do it my way if your approach doesn't work," Gojo said.

"Fair enough."

Gojo looked away, his gaze settling on the empty space where you had stood moments before. There was a brief pause, his mind racing.

"Suguru, what exactly do you see in her?" Gojo asked after a while.

"Hm?" Geto looked at Gojo thoughtfully. "She has potential, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah, potential," Gojo echoed, his voice trailing off slightly.

Geto tilted his head.

─── ·✧· ───

The sun streamed through the windows of the anatomy classroom, casting a warm glow across the rows of desks. Despite the bright light, your eyelids felt heavy, the endless fights with Gojo replaying in your mind and robbing you of much-needed energy.

You sat beside Yuta, Maki, and Toge, struggling to focus on the lecturer's words. 

"Rough day?" Yuta whispered.

You propped your head up with one hand, blinking rapidly in a vain attempt to clear the fog of fatigue. "More like a rough week."

"You look like shit," Maki remarked.

"Thanks."

As the lecturer continued discussing the intricacies of human anatomy, your thoughts drifted back to Gojo. Despite all the arguments you had with him, all you could think about was the memory of his intense gaze, his closeness, his soft voice, even his scent. It made it impossible to concentrate on the lecture.

Yuta nudged you gently when you almost nodded off, your head dipping forward. "You really should get some rest after this."

Suddenly, an announcement woke you up in an instant.

"Now we'll do a quick test." Dr. Ieiri announced. "It's crucial for your upcoming exams."

A collective groan echoed through the class. You froze, your heart sinking. A test was the last thing you needed right now.

Yuta turned to you. "You got this," he said, trying to offer some encouragement.

You weren't so sure. 

As the test papers were distributed, you stared blankly at the questions. Your mind, usually sharp and focused during exams, felt sluggish and unresponsive. One by one, you read through the questions, trying to recall the knowledge you knew was hopefully buried somewhere in your tired brain.

Fuck.

It was all questions about something like skin, bones and that shit. You could recall every little detail about the brain, but bones? Fuck, you really should have paid attention in that class.

Panic set in as you realized that you might actually fail this test.

─── ·✧· ───  

1:07 AM.

You were still wide awake.

Tossing and turning, you found sleep elusive. Everything that had happened lately was replaying in your mind. You had barely been in Tokyo for a few weeks and your life was already so different. You barely had time to fix up your apartment, the moving boxes still there, waiting to be opened. And then the anatomy test—

You needed a distraction, something to focus on that wasn't your own disappointment.

So you decided to head back to the university lab. Maybe immersing yourself in work would help clear your head. The quiet, empty streets at this hour were oddly comforting as you drove to the campus. Upon arriving at the lab, you were surprised to see the lights already on. You pushed the door open, stepping into the familiar space.

No way.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, unable to hide your surprise.

Gojo hunched over a microscope, deeply engrossed in his work. He looked up, his expression one of mild annoyance. "I could ask you the same," he replied.

Nice.

Even in the lab, it seemed you couldn't escape his presence. He was always there, haunting both your mind and your reality.

"You shouldn't work so late. You're still a student," Gojo remarked.

You glanced at him. "Yeah, you've already told me that. But I want this project to work just as much as you."

Gojo looked your way, his striking blue eyes catching the dim lab light. "Don't you ever take a break? Go out? Maybe party or so?"

You observed him for a moment. His hair was disheveled, giving him a more relaxed, approachable look than usual. "I'm not really into the party scene," you admitted.

"I guessed as much," he responded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he returned his focus back to his work.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, somewhat hurt.

"It's not a criticism, just an observation."

Setting up at a nearby workstation, you began reviewing some data on a patient you were about to perform surgery on. He was the first to receive a transplant directly into his cerebral cortex, hoping to bypass the damaged spinal cord and allow direct brain control of a prosthetic limb.

It was the first time such an operation had ever been performed. And Geto would be the one to do the surgery. Gojo would have normally, but he refused. He was still convinced it was the wrong approach. Even though all the data showed otherwise.

Sipping from your coffee, you glanced over at Gojo, finding a strange comfort in his presence. He worked with a focus and intensity that was almost mesmerizing.

3:23 AM. 

Exhaustion weighed heavily on your eyelids as you completed the final analysis. Now all you had to do was wait for the results. You rested your head on your hand, sinking lower and lower until your head touched the cool surface of the desk. Maybe a short nap wouldn't hurt.

Time passed unnoticed until a gentle touch caressed your cheek. It jolted you from sleep. You flinched slightly, your eyes fluttering open. Your gaze slowly traveled up, finally locking with Gojo's eyes. He stood beside you, his thumb lingering just a moment longer on your skin, stroking lightly over your cheek.

"You hungry?"

You straightened up, pulling back a little. Suddenly conscious of the close proximity. A warm flush spread across your cheeks.

Gojo pulled up a chair, turned it backwards and faced you. He unwrapped a small meal he had brought from a nearby bakery, the scent of fresh pastries filling the air. 

There was a casual ease to his movements. Like everything he did. Whether he was slicing through a brain or just existing. He always seemed so unbothered. As if he knew he would never fail at anything anyway.

Blinking tiredly, you rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the lingering veil of sleep. As you moved, a jacket slipped from your shoulders. His jacket. He must have draped it over your shoulders while you slept. It smelled like him.

"Keep it," he said before you could part your lips. "The body cools down after sleep."

"Always the doctor, aren't you?" you replied with a hint of a smile, pulling the jacket back around your shoulders. "Thank you."

Reaching for the pastry he had brought, you became acutely aware of his gaze. The intensity in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine.

"Tell me something about yourself."

"What do you want to know?" you asked, taking a bite of the pastry.

"Everything."

You chuckled. "That would take a while."

"I've got time."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling his gaze still intently on you.

"Tell me how Suguru found you," he continued.

"Back in my hometown, I was already in medical university, working on a research project about a specific type of brain tumor called glioblastoma multiforme. My mentor at the time encouraged me to publish a paper on my findings. It seems that Geto stumbled upon my work. That's how I ended up here."

"Impressive," he said. "Why this specific type of brain tumor?"

A lump formed in your throat. "Because my father died of it."

Gojo paused, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to read your thoughts.

"My father was a neurosurgeon, too. I practically grew up in operating rooms," you continued.

"Why did he die?"

The directness of his question caught you slightly off guard. You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. 

"The tumor was too aggressive. The surgery was useless, he knew that, but he wanted it anyway. They tried a radical surgery to remove as much of the tumor as possible while preserving vital brain function. But it failed. My father was just dead meat breathing after the surgery. My mother never got over that loss. I think she lost her mind."

The gruesome edge of your words surprised him, his eyes widening slightly. You looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with Gojo as his stupidly handsome blue eyes seemed to pierce your soul.

Silence stretched between you two.

"I'm sorry," Gojo said eventually.

"It's okay. He's long gone," your eyes lingered on the pastry. "It's what drove me to neurology," you continued, gathering the courage to look up at him. "I wanted to contribute to something that might change outcomes for people like my father."

"Is that why you want to go for the safe approach with the patient in our neuroprosthetics project?"

You thought about it. But it wouldn't help to lie anyway. "Yeah, that's probably it."

Gojo ran his fingers through his hair, releasing a weary exhale.

"Tell me about you now," you said, changing the subject.

He paused, then offered a brief, wry smile. "Not married, no girlfriend, no kids."

"That's not really what I meant."

"Sure?" he teased, the corners of his mouth turning up in a playful smile.

"Why not?" you asked him. This was indeed interesting. He was handsome. Tall. Barely in his thirties. A famous neurosurgeon. He was basically the whole package. Except—

"No time, I guess," he said.

"What a lame excuse," you retorted, leaning back in your chair. You stretched your arms above your head, trying to relieve the tension that had built up in your muscles. A slight smile lingered on your lips as you added, "I guess you're just too much ego for any woman to handle."

"Oh, sweetheart," Gojo replied, the nickname rolling off his tongue with a natural ease. "I suspect you have just as much ego as me."

Suddenly, Gojo stood up and closed the distance between you. You remained seated, looking up at him, your heart rate quickening. For a moment, he just stood there, looking down at you. The intensity in his gaze was palpable, and you found yourself caught in it, unable to look away. The room seemed to shrink, the space between you charged.

Then, leaning in, Gojo brought his face close to yours, his breath a whisper against your ear. The proximity sent a shiver down your spine. "Bad for you," he murmured softly, his voice a low rumble, "I do like arrogant woman."

Before you could respond, he straightened up. "Good night," he said. "You should get some sleep."

With that, he turned and walked out of the lab, leaving you sitting there. The air seemed to shift back to normal as the door closed behind him. 

─── ·✧· ─── 

Your legs hurt. Your back hurt. Your hips hurt. Your neck hurt.

Everything hurt.

You stood on the sidelines of the operating room for nearly 6 hours. Standing still on the same spot. You'll never get used to that. It's the worst part of the job. But it was still a privilege to witness Geto and Gojo in surgery, right?

The room was filled with the sound of beeping monitors and the low murmur of the assisting surgical team. From your vantage point, you had a clear view of the procedure and the surgeons. They worked together with a quiet efficiency that was fascinating. 

However, as you watched, something about Gojo caught your attention. His movements seemed slightly off. You started noticing it about an hour ago. But no one said anything. His hair was drenched in sweat and clung to his forehead. You could see the slight trembling in his hands, almost imperceptible.

Something was definitely off.

Your gaze lingered on him, studying his every move.

"First-year."

Gojo suddenly paused and looked up, his eyes meeting yours. You flinched slightly, as he caught you starring at him. "You want to try the next part?" he asked, his voice cutting through the hum of the operating room.

Was he serious?

Before you could reply, Geto interjected, "Satoru, are you joking? She's still a student."

Gojo's gaze didn't waver from you. "I know. But you said she's your best student," he replied his lips twitching with a smile. "I want to test that."

"You've done aneurysm surgery before, back in your hometown, right?" Gojo asked you.

Did he google you or what?

"Yes," you replied.

"Then step forward," he said.

You hesitated. Your gaze drifted to Geto for confirmation. Geto hesitated, then gave a slight nod.

Heart pounding, you stepped forward to the operating table. A rush of adrenaline surged through you. You took the offered surgical tools with a steady hand from Gojo, his eyes locked with yours. "We're going to work on clipping the aneurysm now. You've done it before, right?"

"Yes," you replied, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart.

"Good." He moved closer, positioning himself so he could guide you while still giving you control. "Start with an incision here," he instructed, pointing to a specific area on the patient's brain with his own instrument.

You could feel his gaze over your shoulder; the warmth of his body near yours. As you made the initial incision, Gojo moved even closer. "Now, carefully dissect the tissue to expose the aneurysm," he continued.

Your hands worked around the fragile brain. You did surgery before. Yes. But this was another level. Every eye of every nurse and doctor in the room was on you. Geto was monitoring the patient's data. He glanced at you from time to time, his expression unreadable. But you were at least three inches deep into a human brain, so there was no way out anyway.

After that, you would certainly have to vomit from the adrenaline.

At one critical point, your hands hesitated. Your heart almost exploded. In that moment, you could either kill this patient or save him. "Calm down," Gojo said, so low and close to your ear that only you could hear it. Gojo's hand cupped yours gently. "You're doing fine. Trust yourself," he murmured. His touch was brief, but it was enough to ground you for a moment.

Sweat trickled down your forehead as you isolated the aneurysm and prepared it for clipping.

"Good," he whispered.

Finally, as you placed the clip on the aneurysm and secured it, a wave of accomplishment washed over you. Hell, you really did it.

"Congratulations, an excellent clipping," Gojo said, his lips forming a smile. "You can step back now."

"Thank you, Dr. Gojo," you whispered. As you stepped back, a wide smile spread across your face, hidden beneath the mask but undeniable in the sparkle of your eyes.

Gojo took the lead again to close up the patient. But his gaze shifted to you every now and then.

Geto's eyes narrowed.

─── ·✧· ───

"You did a good job in there."

Gojo glanced in your direction as you both washed up in the scrub room after the operation.

"Thanks," you replied, meeting his eyes.

"I may have underestimated you," he said, his lips curving into a teasing smile.

Wait? Was that a compliment? From him?

Before you could respond, the door to the scrub room burst open. Geto stormed in, his face flushed with anger. He tore off his scrubs and threw them into the trash with a thud that made you flinch.

"We need to talk, Satoru," he said sharply. His intense gaze was fixed solely on Gojo, as if you weren't even there.

Shit.

Gojo calmly turned off the tap and reached for a towel, drying his hands with deliberate slowness. His face was an unreadable mask. He gave you a brief glance before following Geto out of the room.

"Don't you dare fuck my student," Geto hissed before the door had even fully closed behind them. But it didn't matter anyway, you could hear their voices through the thin walls.

Gojo leaned back against a table. His arms crossed over his chest. "What are you getting at?"

"Don't try to fuck with me, Satoru. I've seen the way you look at her."

"I supervised her, so that she wouldn't kill the patient. That's all you saw."

"Supervision?" Geto's voice was sharp. "Since when do you let a student handle such a crucial part of a surgery? What's gotten into you? What if she had screwed up?"

Gojo's eyes narrowed. "What's your problem? She's proven herself capable, and she performed brilliantly today, don't you think?"

Geto advanced a step, closing the distance between them. His frustration palpable. "This isn't like you, Satoru. You're blurring lines that should remain clear. She's a student. You're supposed to be her mentor, not—not whatever you're turning this into."

The room went silent.

"Your concern is noted, but misplaced," Gojo said. "My interest in her is purely professional. She has potential, real potential, and it's my job to support that."

Geto's expression hardened. "That's right, she has potential, and you're risking that if you can't keep your hands off her."

"What?" Gojo pushed away from the table. "Because you want her for yourself?"

"I can't believe you'd go there," Geto snapped back. "I brought her here because she's damn good at what she does, not for any other reason."

Gojo's face tightened, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "You should know me better, Suguru. I was giving her a shot to show her skills, that's all."

In a sudden move, Geto closed the distance and grasped Gojo's shirt, pulling him forward. Their faces were just inches apart. "Listen, Satoru," Geto said. "I'm dead serious. One wrong step, one slip, and you could ruin everything—her career, the project, your own reputation. Don't think I'll stand by and watch that happen."

Gojo's eyes met Geto's, unflinching. He placed his hands on Geto's to release his grip. "I hear you, Suguru," he said. "But you're wrong. My interest in her is purely professional."

"Make sure it stays that way," Geto warned. He released his grip and stepped back.

Geto then turned and left the room. Gojo turned his head to look at you through the small window in the door that separated you. Your eyes briefly met his before he also left, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Great.

─── ·✧· ───

This day couldn't get any better.

You stood at the exit of the hospital. It was pouring.

Resigned, you decided to wait near the exit, hoping the rain would stop soon. Minutes passed, but the rain showed no signs of stopping.

"Waiting out the rain?" a familiar voice called out from behind.

You turned to see Gojo appeared. He had changed out of his surgical scrubs and was now in his regular clothes. His muscular arms and broad shoulders visible even under his loose button-down.

"Yeah, it looks like I'm stuck here for a while."

Gojo opened his umbrella. "Come on, I'll walk you to your car."

You hesitated for a moment.

"Suguru already left, don't worry," he added, as if reading your thoughts.

You frowned slightly. "That's not what I was concerned about."

"Then why are you hesitating?" He took a step closer, the umbrella now over you both. He stood at least a head taller than you, looking down at you with heavy eyes. You studied the tired lines in his face, the slight dark circles under his eyes.

"You look tired."

"Do I?" Gojo's voice was deep, his gaze lingering shamelessly on your lips. "Perhaps I am. I've been thinking about you all night."

"Bold statement, especially after Geto's warning."

"I'm not afraid of Suguru."

"Is that why you let me operate today? To piss him off?"

He leaned forward. "I let you operate because you can operate. Suguru is hesitant. He likes to play safe. With me, you'll have more challenge—more fun."

"Are we still talking about surgery?"

"Of course, sweetheart," he replied with a grin. "Come on, It's been a long day. I insist."

"Okay," you finally relented. "Thank you."

You stepped out into the rain together. The umbrella shielded you both as you walked side by side. You walked in silence, the only sound being the gentle drumming of raindrops. Gojo subtly shifted the umbrella, ensuring you were completely covered. His shoulder got wet.

When you reached your car, you turned to him. Somehow you stood so close now. His breath hot against you skin. Your stomach turned slightly, but you tried to brush the feeling off. "Thank you," you said softly, "—for everything today."

"Can I ask you for a favor?" He asked suddenly.

"Sure."

"Can you help me with a project?"

"Another project? Besides the neuroprosthetics?" you asked.

"It's a private one. I could use your assistance with processing data."

"Let me know when and where."

He smiled. "Perfect."

Gojo smoothly opened the car door for you, still holding the umbrella over your head. "Take care," he said gently, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary. You both remained frozen. The world outside the umbrella a blur.

"You too," you finally replied, breaking the moment. As you got into your car, you were acutely aware of his eyes still on you.

He closed the door for you and turned.

─── ·✧· ───

"Sorry in advance if this hurts."

You tried to insert the needle, your hand less steady than usual. The needle missed the vein, making Yuta wince. "Sorry," you wiped sweat from your forehead. Then tried again, quickly changing the needle.

A week had passed since the fight between Geto and Gojo. Since then, Gojo hadn't visited the lab. You didn't know what to make of it. But perhaps it was for the better. Less fighting after all. Gojo still didn't approve of your approach.

Still, you couldn't force your mind to stop racing. Perhaps it was the immense workload you had. The research project, not to mention Gojo's personal research project, and inevitably, Gojo himself.

You were in practical class, sitting with Maki, Yuta, and Toge, focusing on a seemingly simple task—practicing drawing blood. But you failed every time.

Yuta gave you a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, you've done this a hundred times."

Yeah. Not really, but you should probably not tell him that right now.

You took a deep breath and tried again. Failed.

"It's alright, give it another go," Yuta said, even after you had stabbed his arm too many times to be comfortable.

The needle slipped again and missed the mark. "I'm sorry, Yuta. I don't know what's wrong with me today."

"Pressure?" Toge asked.

"Yeah, I guess it's a lot lately."

Suddenly, Dr. Kento, the instructor for this practical lesson, appeared behind you. His stoic demeanor sent a shiver down your spine without you having to see it.

"You're really not good at this," he commented bluntly, not really befitting a professor. But it was true.

Forcing a smile, you turned to face him. "Just a bit off my game today."

Dr. Kento's expression remained impassive. "Drawing blood is a basic skill. You should be able to do it in your sleep," he lectured. "But you look like you're torturing your patient."

"Ehh—," you began, turning back to Yuta and only then noticing his pained expression. All color had drained from his face. 

Oops.

Dr. Kento's gaze then swept across the room, capturing the attention of the entire class. "Everyone needs to master this," he continued. "I expect you to be able to do this by the end of the week."

You kidding, right?

It was already Thursday. He basically meant tomorrow.

As if on cue, the bell rang.

You and your friends began to gather your belongings. As the room buzzed with the chatter of students packing up, Yuta brought up a topic that immediately drew everyone's interest.

"Hey, about the sports festival, which team should we join?"

"Sports festival?" you echoed, feeling slightly out of the loop. Your focus on the lab work had left you missing everything else that happened on campus.

Yuta nodded. "Yeah, it's a big event. Every year there's a sports festival in the summer with a bunch of team sports events and competitions."

Toge, usually reserved, showed a flicker of excitement. "Basketball."

"Yeah, the professors usually form a basketball team against the students. Should we join?" Yuta asked.

Maki already scrolled through her phone, looking up the festival details. "We should register then, hmm ... oh the professor team is already full, and .. oh Dr. Gojo and Dr. Geto are in the team."

"I bet they are just as competitive on the court as they are in the OR," Yuta added.

"Join?" Toge asked.

"Sure," Maki commented, scrolling through her phone for more details.

Out of curiosity, you asked, "Does anyone here even play basketball?"

Yuta, scratching his chin thoughtfully, replied, "Well, I've played a bit. And Maki's naturally good at anything, so—" he paused, seemingly realizing what he just said. His face turned a shade redder. "Ehh, I mean, you've played basketball before, right, Maki?"

Maki just shrugged, a confident smirk on her face. "He's not wrong."

"So, are we doing this?" you asked.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Great.

Now you had to learn how to play basketball too.

─── ·✧· ───

Later that day, you found yourself outside Gojo's office, clutching the stack of papers you had prepared for his research project. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you knocked softly before entering.

"Dr. Gojo, I've finished the analysis you requested," you said, placing the papers on his desk.

"Thank you. I'll check these later," he said, not looking up from his computer.

You turned to leave. But just as you reached the door, Gojo's voice halted you.

"Wait."

You paused, turning back to face him.

"Wash your hands. There are syringes and needles in the drawer on the bottom right."

"What?" you asked, not sure what he wanted from you.

He looked up from his computer. "You're embarrassing me," he said bluntly. "You know what Kento said to me earlier? He said, and I quote, 'Are you stupid? How can you let a student operate on the brain who can barely get a needle through skin?'"

You felt a knot forming in your stomach.

"It was just not my day, really," you stammered, trying to defend yourself, though your voice lacked conviction.

"How many times have you done that before?" he asked, his gaze intimidating.

You were lost for words.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he said, more to himself than to you. He stood up from his desk and rolled up his sleeves.

Before you knew it, you found yourself sitting next to him, wearing gloves and poised with a needle in hand. Gojo's arm was outstretched towards you, the veins visible beneath his skin. You stared at his arm. Somehow your mind now completely blank.

"Aren't you going to tie a band around my arm to make my veins more visible first?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, right," you muttered, your cheeks flushing. You wrapped the band around his arm and secured it tightly. Your fingers trembled slightly as they touched his firm skin. The contact felt unexpectedly intimate. It made your heart race.

He watched you, his expression softening slightly. "Easy now," he said in a more encouraging tone. "It's not hard. Just focus."

Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your trembling hands. The needle hovered over his vein, and for a moment, you were acutely aware of the silence in the room, punctuated only by the sound of your own erratic heartbeat.

You hesitated.

"Use your little finger against my arm to anchor your hand," he said.

Following his advice, you rested your finger against his skin, feeling a surprising steadiness in your hand.

"And angle the needle slightly," he added. "It's about finding the right entry point—not too steep, not too shallow."

You adjusted the angle of the needle accordingly, aiming for the vein. The tip pierced the skin, and this time, it slid into the vein smoothly. You let out a heavy exhale.

"Good," he said. "Now, draw the blood gently."

As you carefully drew the blood, you could feel Gojo's eyes on your hands, monitoring your technique. Once the procedure was complete and you carefully removed the needle. "Much better," he rolled down his sleeve, a slight arch of his eyebrow. "How is it that you've never really done that before?"

"I don't need to draw blood if I'm operating on the brain," you said with a shrug.

Gojo watched you, a stunned expression flickering across his face.

"The nurses usually handle that anyway," you added, hoping to clarify your point.

There was a moment of silence as he processed what you just said. Finally, he shook his head slightly. "I'm just going to ignore what you just said," he replied.

Changing the subject, he leaned back in his chair. "By the way, I saw your name on the list for the students' basketball team for the upcoming sports festival."

You raised your eyebrows, peeling off your gloves. "Oh, you did?"

"Yeah," he said, a playful glint appearing in his eyes. "I didn't know you played basketball. But I have to admit, I'm curious to see if you're as good at basketball as you are at clipping aneurysms."

"I haven't really played much before, so you might want to lower your expectations," a small smile tugged at your lips. "Have you played before?"

"I used to play pretty regularly when I was in universtiy," he said.

Great.

If he was anywhere near as good at basketball as he was at surgery, you were fucked.

"You should teach me then," you quipped, not quite meeting his gaze. As the words left your lips, you immediately realized the implication. You turned to him, a blush coloring your cheeks. "It's just a joke."

His smile widened. "Oh really? Too bad, I'd have liked that."

The room fell into silence.

You found yourself staring at him, and he returned your gaze.

His silver hair had a few strands that were slightly out of place. Your eyes studied his face as if seeing it for the first time. The typical intensity in his blue eyes had softened, replaced by an almost gentle expression. His sharp jawline moved slightly, as if he were pondering something.

Breaking the silence, you finally spoke, your voice softer than intended. "I wonder what you were like back in your university days."

"Why do you ask?"

"It's hard to imagine you not being the controlled surgeon you are now."

"You think I'm controlled?"

"No, that's not what I meant," you hurried to clarify. "I mean, you're always so focused, so—precise, and—"

Before you could finish, he leaned in closer, his intense gaze holding you captive. The world around you seemed to fade into a blur, leaving only the two of you in sharp focus. You could feel the warmth of his breath, barely a whisper away from your skin.

Gojo reached out, his hand gently cupping your chin. He lifted your face slightly, ensuring your eyes met directly.

"If you keep looking at me like that, I might lose my control sooner than you'd expect," he said, his thumb lightly brushing your jawline.

After a moment that seemed to stretch on, he slowly withdrew his hand and stepped back, breaking the connection. He turned away from you and walked back to his desk. "Thank you for your work. You can leave now."

─── ·✧· ───

The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the university's outdoor basketball court. Maki, Toge, Yuta, and you had gathered for practice, despite the lingering summer heat.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this," you said, dribbling the basketball on the sun-baked concrete. "None of us are exactly pros."

Maki, tying her hair back, grinned. "Speak for yourself. I've got some hidden talents." She effortlessly caught the ball and shot it toward the hoop, scoring a basket. "See?"

Yuta laughed and retrieved the ball. "That's just beginner's luck, Maki. Watch and learn." He took a shot, but the ball bounced off the rim.

"Practice," Toge said.

"Yeah, we really need more practice," you finished his sentence.

"Hey, watch this!" Yuta called out, attempting a fancy dribble move, only to lose control of the ball. It rolled away, and Toge scooped it up and passed it back with a short, "Focus."

"You're one to talk," Maki teased, swiping the ball from Toge and lobbing it towards the basket. It swished through the net effortlessly. "I still got it!"

You caught the ball and wiped the sweat from your brow. "I never thought we'd be practicing basketball as medical students."

Maki turned to you with a curious look. "Speaking of training, how's the research going? You've been spending a lot of time with Geto and Gojo."

You began to dribble the ball, more or less. "It's intense, but I'm learning a lot. Dr. Geto is incredibly intelligent, and well, working with Dr. Gojo is—an experience."

"An experience, huh?" Maki said with a grin "Is that code for 'Dr. Handsome has some unique ways of teaching me'?"

You flinched. Yuta quickly snatched the ball from your unfocused grip and shot it through the net.

"Dr. Handsome?" you echoed.

Maki opened a bottle of water. "Don't tell me he's not good-looking—they both are."

"I mean, they both definitely have their—charm, I guess."

"Charm, huh?" Maki teased, taking a sip of her water. "I've seen the way Dr. Gojo looks at you. There's definitely something."

"It's not like that," you protested, though your defensive tone might have suggested otherwise. "He's just an incredible surgeon to work with, that's all."

"He did let you operate with him, though. That's all I'm saying," Maki added.

"Aneurisym," Toge chimed in.

Yuta, bouncing the ball beside you, added, "Yeah, he let you operate on an aneurysm with him, which is pretty crazy."

You rolled your eyes. "Can we focus on the festival game instead of me?"

Maki laughed. "Alright, alright, we'll drop it. But seriously, how's the project going? I mean, besides the whole Dr. Handsome thing."

Yeah, where to start on that.

Taking a deep breath, you told them more about the research project. 

─── ·✧· ───

As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, painting the horizon in shades of orange and pink. You were still on the basketball court, practicing your shots. The others had already left. The court was quiet, except for the rhythmic bounce of the basketball and the occasional swish of the net.

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through. "Hey, First-year."

Startled, you turned to see Gojo approaching the court. He was dressed in athletic attire—a black, skin-tight t-shirt and shorts that looked criminally good on him.

"Dr. Gojo," you said, a bit surprised to see him there. "I didn't expect to see you practicing."

He picked up a basketball and began dribbling with ease. "I like to keep my skills sharp," he said, shooting a casual glance in your direction. "And I heard there was a new challenger on the students team."

You let out a tired sigh. "I'm just trying to make sure I don't embarrass myself too much at the festival," you admitted.

"Have more confidence in yourself, first-year. You're operating on brains, there's no room for doubts." Gojo shot the ball towards the hoop, scoring effortlessly. "And by the way, stop calling me Dr., just Gojo is fine."

"Alright, Gojo," you said.

Gojo passed the ball to you with a casual flick of his wrist. "Come on, first-year. Show me what you've got."

A cold shiver ran down your skin. Oddly, having to demonstrate your non-existent basketball skills felt more intimidating than clipping an aneurysm in front of him.

You positioned yourself at the three-point line, bouncing the ball a few times to find your rhythm. With a deep breath, you aimed and threw the ball, but it bounced off the rim and rolled away.

Gojo walked over to retrieve the ball. "Yeah, you'll definitely embarrass yourself if you play like that."

Ouch.

"Can you do anything besides brain surgery?" he probed further.

Ouch.

"You know that hurts," you said.

"It's all about posture and precision," he said, closing the distance between you two. He halted just before you. "May I?"

With a nod, you consented. He moved in closer, positioning himself directly behind you. His presence enveloping you in a comforting warmth. He smelled like sweat, but oddly, you found it rather attractive. 

You could feel the light touch of his hands as they gently guided your shoulders, aligning your stance with the hoop. His closeness was suffocating, and you found yourself acutely aware of every movement he made.

"Bend your knees a bit more," he advised, his voice a soothing whisper near your ear. You could feel his breath, warm and steady, against the side of your neck, causing your heart to beat faster. His hands moved down to adjust your arms. His touch warm against your skin.

You tried to focus on his instructions. But the closeness of his body, the gentle pressure of his hands on your arms, made it damn hard to concentrate on anything other than him. 

"Now, when you shoot, focus on a fluid motion," he added.

As you prepared to take the shot, Gojo's hands rested lightly on your hips, steadying you. You should have pushed them away. Touching you like that was far beyond appropriate. But you didn't. You wanted him to touch you even more in that moment.

With his guidance, you took the shot, and this time the ball sailed through the net with a satisfying thud.

"You see? You have it in you," Gojo said, leaning back slightly but still close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him.

You turned to face him, meeting his gaze. Your heart immediately dropped.

Even in the waning light you could see it clearly.

"Are you high?" you asked, a slight frown creasing your forehead.

For a moment, Gojo seemed taken aback by your question. He quickly masked his expression with a casual smile and stepped back, creating some distance between you. He began to dribble the basketball, his movements fluid and practiced, yet there was a hint of unease in his actions.

"It's nothing," he said, focusing intently on the ball rather than meeting your eyes. "Just a small injury during practice."

"And you decided to what? Throw in an opioid for that small injury?" you pressed.

He stopped dribbling and faced you, his expression becoming more serious. "No, of course not," he replied with a hint of defensiveness. "It's just a minor strain. I didn't take anything strong for it."

You couldn't believe what he just said. He—a surgeon—a doctor—out of all people.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, it's been a long day, and I might have pushed myself a bit too hard. But I'm fine, really."

You studied him closely. "You expect me to believe that?" you took another step closer. "What did you really take? Codeine? Morphine?"

A flicker of something undefinable passing through his eyes. "You're crossing a line," he replied, his tone firmer this time.

"Me? Crossing a line?" you countered. "Since the first day we met, you've been pushing boundaries, and now you say I'm the one overstepping?"

Gojo's expression hardened. "I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, I am perfectly fine." His words were steady, but the slight tightness in his jaw suggested otherwise.

You didn't buy anything he just said. The feeling that something was off clung to you, refusing to be dispelled. His usual clarity seemed clouded, his sharpness dulled. His eyes slightly red. His skin paler than usual. It was unsettling to see him like this.

After a brief pause, he picked up the basketball and held it loosely at his side. "I think we're done here," he said. "You should go home."

You watched him for a moment longer. But then you decided to turn and walk away, leaving him alone on the court. As you made your way, his words replayed over and over in your mind. 

Was something wrong with him? 

Should you be worried?

After all, you worked together. And also—naturally—you were worried about him, right? Like any student would be worried about his professor, right?

The evening air suddenly felt so cold.

─── ·✧· ───

The lab was quiet except for the occasional hum of machinery and the soft clinking of your tools as you worked. You were deep in concentration, analyzing data for the upcoming neuroprosthetics project, when the door opened with a soft click.

"Ah, there you are," Geto said as he stepped in. "I've been searching for you. We've finally got the green light for our surgery. Everything's lined up and ready to go."

You straightened up, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. "Really? That's great. When?"

Geto walked over to your workstation, a subtle smile on his face. "In two weeks. Are you excited?"

"More like nervous."

"Ah, that's natural. But don't worry, it will work. You've done an excellent job."

You felt a swell of pride at his words. "Thank you. I'm glad I could help."

Still, there was a question on the tip of your tongue, something you had been pondering since last week. Hesitantly, you opened your mouth, but then stopped. Words failed you.

"What is it?" Geto asked, knowing you too well.

"Is something wrong with Gojo?"

He leaned against the table and crossed his arms. His expression shifted slightly. "Don't worry about him. He's just stressed lately."

Somehow you didn't buy it.

"Even so, you shouldn't get that close to him."

"I'm not—" you wanted to interject, but he cut you off.

"I'm not blind," he said firmly. "You have a bright future in science. Don't risk it by getting too involved with him. Satoru is a brilliant surgeon, but his personal life is a mess."

What should that mean?

You looked away, unsure how to respond.

Geto then changed the subject. "By the way, I have some more news for you—good and bad. Which would you like to hear first?"

"The good news, of course," you replied.

"Here," Geto said, handing you a journal. As you took it, the bold lettering on the cover immediately caught your eye. It featured an article written by Gojo.

You opened the journal, your heart racing as you skimmed the pages to find the article. And there it was—a comprehensive meta-analysis that you, too, had worked on.

"No way," you murmured, your eyes scanning the text in disbelief.

Below the article was your name, listed alongside Gojo's, credited for your pivotal role in the data analysis and interpretation.

"He mentioned me." 

Geto nodded, a hint of pride in his expression. "That's a pretty big deal."

You were momentarily speechless. Being credited alongside someone as renowned as Gojo was insane.

"Now for the not-so-good news," Geto began.

You looked up at him from the Journal, your eyes still sparkling.

"You failed your anatomy exam."

─── ·✧· ───

The sports festival was in full swing.

Cheers and laughter filled the university campus. The summer heat beat down relentlessly. You already felt a little nauseous that day, and the sun only made it worse. Yeah, you weren't really cut for the heat. At least the bleachers were partly shaded.

You sat quietly besides with Maki, Yuta, and Toge, watching various events unfold on the field. Despite the lively atmosphere, you couldn't bring yourself into the festive spirit. Your mind was elsewhere.

Maki nudged you gently. "Still thinking about the exam?"

You sighed. "Yeah, I have to pass the next one, or I'll have to do this year again."

Yuta leaned over. "You'll go it, I'm sure. Plus, you got mentioned in Dr. Gojo's paper—that's huge!"

"Huge," Toge said again to underline it even more.

You managed a small smile. "I hope you're right."

Maki patted your back. "Dr. Handsome will sure put in a good word for you."

You sighed again. "Not this topic again."

Suddenly, the announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeakers, announcing that the basketball match between students and professors will begin shortly.

Yuta turned to you and the others. "Looks like it's our turn. Let's start getting ready."

You nodded, through a wave of nausea washed over you. The heat of the sun was merciless, more intense than you'd expected, and it seemed to be draining your strength by the minute.

Maki stood up. "Alright, team, let's show them what we've got!"

Should you vomit now, or later—or both?

Having changed into your sports attire, you joined your teammates on the basketball court. You began to warm up your muscles, even though the heat made that almost unnecessary. You felt your face burn. Nausea churned in your stomach. 

You paused, closing your eyes for a moment, hoping it would pass.

Then, the professors' team made their entrance onto the court. Among them were Geto and Gojo. They began dribbling and passing the ball between them, occasionally doing stretches that showcased their well-built bodies.

They looked confident.

You calculated the odds of how badly this match might go for your team.

Why did you even sign up for this?

Your gaze inadvertently met Gojo's across the court. For a fleeting second, your eyes locked, sending a wave of unease through you. You haven't spoken to him since. Quickly, you averted your gaze and focused back on your stretches.

As Gojo and another professor continued their warm-up, they passed the ball back and forth, aiming for the net. Then a shot from Gojo missed its mark, sending the ball rolling your way. 

As if he ever missed a shot.

The ball stopped at your feet, and before you could react, Gojo was there, sprinting up to retrieve it. He halted right in front of you. "You don't look good," he said, his voice so low that only you could hear it.

"I'm fine," you said. "I think it's just the heat."

Gojo reached out, his hand cool against your forehead. "You're overheating."

You quickly pushed his hand aside. "You might want to keep a professional distance, don't you think?" The words came out sharper than intended.

Gojo frowned slightly. "You should sit this one out."

"I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, I am perfectly fine," you responded, mirroring his words back at him.

He took a step closer. "You're stupid, you know that?"

Before you could respond, Geto's voice called out from across the court. Gojo turned at the sound. "Coming!" He gave you a last look before quickly walking away. You watched them do a stupid boyish handshake as Gojo rejoined Geto.

At least he was not high today, you thought.

The crowd was already roaring with cheers and applause as both teams lined up. They all here to witness my downfall, you thought, struggling against the nausea that threatened your focus. 

Right off the bat, Gojo weaved through your team's defense, fluid and precise. He flicked the ball to Geto, who faked left and then took a clear shot, scoring the first basket of the game. The crowd erupted.

Yuta sprinted down the court and dribbled past Gojo. He passed the ball to you, and you took your chance at a three-pointer. The ball arced beautifully, but it rimmed out at the last second. 

At least you tried, right?

Not missing a beat, Toge snagged a pass from a professor and pivoted into a counterattack. He found Maki open. She didn't disappoint, scoring a layup to tie the game. Your team was holding up surprisingly well, mostly thanks to your friends' efforts.

Then, Geto feinted, passing to an open Gojo. With a swift move, Gojo scored another point, eliciting a fresh wave of cheers from the spectators. But Yuta was quick to follow, dribbling down the court. He passed to Maki, who nailed another crucial basket, closing the score gap.

In the final minutes, the game was deadlocked. Gojo had the ball, expertly evading your teammates defensive efforts. He made a break for the basket. Yuta, determined to block him, overreached and stumbled backwards, heading straight for you.

You barely had time to brace yourself.

The collision was inevitable. 

Yuta crashed into you, and both of you went tumbling to the ground. The game halting abruptly to the sound of a sharp whistle.

"Are you okay?" Yuta blurted out.

Why was Yuta always running you over?

You rolled over to your side, feeling the heat of the ground beneath you. Everything spun, nausea swirling with pain. "I might need a minute," you managed to say, the world tilting around you.

Almost instantly, Gojo was there, kneeling beside you. "Don't move." He began to examine you for any immediate injuries, his hands tenderly scanning your exposed skin. "You feeling dizzy?"

Your response was a pained sound, a clear sign that you were far from okay. "You might have a concussion. We need to get you checked right away," Gojo said.

"I'm fine," you started to protest, but Gojo had already lifted you into his arms in one fluid motion. He held you close to him. Instinctively, you clung to his neck, feeling the pounding of his heart against your own. It made your stomach clench.

"I'm fine, really," you said again as he carried you off the court.

"Ah shut up, I know you're not." His eyes fixed on you, as if you were the only person who mattered at that moment. "You're really stressing me, you know that?"

─── ·✧· ───

The room felt so small. 

His presence filled the whole space.

"There," Gojo said softly as he inserted the needle into your arm. "This should help with hydration and ease any nausea."

You watched as he secured the needle in place. He adjusted the flow of saline, his eyes meeting yours, a playful smile on his lips. "So much for not needing to handle a needle, huh?"

You rolled your eyes.

Then he cupped your chin and tilted your head back slightly. "Watch the light," he instructed, flicking a small penlight on and off before your eyes. His fingers warm against your skin. "Good," he said, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary.

"Maybe you should stick to brains, instead of sports," he added.

You smiled weakly. "I'll never touch a basketball again in my life, I guess."

His smile widened.

"Thank you," you said quietly.

"No need to," he replied. "Just do me a favor and stop making me worry about you all the time. It's draining."

Your stomach tightened. Gojo turned away and removed his gloves, tossing them into the trash. As the saline drip worked its magic, you began to feel better, the nausea and dizziness slowly receding.

"You mentioned me in your paper," you spoke up, breaking the silence.

Gojo turned to face you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I did."

"Why?"

"Why wouldn't I? You've done most of the analysis." 

"You could have done it without me."

"I know, but I wanted you to be a part of it."

Knowing that the analysis of such an important issue would get a lot of recognition, he should have added.

"Why?" you asked again, already knowing the answer.

"Because I want to support you."

"But I'm just a student, and you're—" You trailed off, feeling a sudden tightness in your chest. His crystal blue eyes seem to pierce right through you.

"And I'm what?"

He stood up and closed the distance between you, his hands coming to rest on either side of you on the bed. The nearness of his body made your breathing hitch in your throat. The warmth of his presence enveloped you, the subtle scent of his cologne blending with the sterile air.

His face was so close, his lips almost grazing yours. Your heart raced, pounding so loudly in your chest you were sure he could hear it. 

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. "—my professor."

"Too bad, isn't it?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice a velvet caress that sent shivers down your spine.

Your mind raced with a thousand thoughts, a thousand reasons why this shouldn't happen, why you should push him away. But your body betrayed you, leaning into him, closing the distance, seeking the touch of his lips against yours.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you whispered.

"Tell me to stop, and I will."

Your core heated, turning molten. Your lips parted slightly, surrendering to the moment. 

You could tell how much self-control it took for him to not kiss you. You could see it in the way his jaw was set, his brow subtly furrowed, his eyes glued to your lips. Yet, he waited for your consent. 

His lips were a mere breath from yours—so cruelly close. Every fiber of your being yearned for him to close the gap, for him to lose against his self-control.

Suddenly you heard your name and a knock at the door.

The door swung open abruptly. Gojo flinched back, the spell between you broken. Regaining his composure, he stepped back, putting a professional distance between you two. You straightened quickly, trying to hide your flushed face.

You wished desperately that he'd kissed you.

Geto stood in the doorway, his eyes flickering between Gojo and you.

You could tell what he was thinking.

next chapter ->

author's note: thanks for reading and feel free to leave your thoughts !! if you want to be added to the taglist, pls comment on the series masterlist ♡

[fuxuannie]

Hi sage!! I hope you're doing well<33 do you mind doing jealousy headcanons for dan heng, jing yuan and any other characters you chose?? Thank you 🤍🤍 you're keeping the hsr x reader tag alive 😭

* pairing(s) : various hsr men (4, again) x gender neutral reader

* prompt : jealousy bites like you like a poisonous snake, the bite hurts, but its the venom that gets you.

* authors note : hi anon !!! (๑´ㅂ`๑) thank you for requesting, you're so sweet for the last msg omg tysm <3 i hope u enjoy !

* brief warning : blade kills a man, very blade of him. (his is also more of a joke im sorry blade lovers) ALSO THIS PROGRESSIVELY GETS SHORTER EACH CHARACTER, I JUST REALLY LIKE DAN HENG IM SORRY LMAO.

DAN HENG can't hide the way his eye twitches, how tightly he grips onto his spear or the way he'd mutter things under his breath. He despises it when he's jealous, but he hates it more when he sees the reason for doing so.

He knows he's.. not exactly like all your previous partners, it stemmed an insecurity in him. He wasn't all too funny, and knew he couldn't make you laugh with a corny joke.

So the way Sampo keeps making you laugh, making you smile, it was sparking a jealous flame in his heart. But more than anything, it saddened him that he couldn't make you laugh like that.

God, your smile was so pretty.

After a while, he interlocks his fingers with yours and mutters a small 'Can we go?' to you. You immediately notice his saddened tone, and thank Sampo for his time before walking home with your boyfriend.

"Dan Heng?" You say softly, noticing his rather saddened mood. He lets out a small hum to acknowledge your call for him, and you sigh. "Are you upset?"

He nods his head.

"Is it.. because of Sampo?"

He hesitates, but that alone gives you an answer.

Dan Heng takes a deep breath, before looking at you, his eyes filled with honesty. "I was.. jealous. I know I can't make you laugh the way he does, and it frustrates me. I want to be a man who makes you smile everyday but-"

Amidst his rant, he sees how your gaze softened at his words. This entire time, he was insecure? He hid it well, so well, at the very least from you. "I'm sorry, this is stupid-"

"N-no! It's not, I should be apologizing if anything! I failed to realize these things.. I'm sorry, my love. Sampo.. he makes me laugh, but you make my heart flutter. You make me feel things no one else can, okay? I'm yours, as you are mine."

He smiles at you, he's just happy he communicated his feelings, and you understood. "I'll be sure to try and tell you how I feel next time, okay? As long as you promise you'll stop hanging out with him. I was honestly afraid I was gonna have to get rid of him."

You blinked a few times, but he sighs. "I'm kiddinngg.."

JING YUAN knows he's far too good of a man, therefore doesn't get jealous.

He's yet to be disproven in the first part, but his golden eyes are filled with annoyance as the stares of a certain enemy of his lingers far too long on you.

You were filling in for Yanqing, he was absent for the day (something about falling into an ice cold river and getting sick or something...) and so someone needed to be there as the General would be meeting Blade.

And Jing Yuan couldn't ignore how Blade's eyes never left your form while he spoke, hanging your head down low and so you wouldn't notice. That made him greatly annoyed, almost unable to focus, but he had a mission at hand. And so he forced his jealousy to subside.

Needless to say, the small marks on your neck was embarassing to have seen in public. (And the small bird constantly pecking at Blade's hair was definitely also not Jing Yuans doing.)

GEPARD is so understanding, he evaluates every situation with logical thinking, as expected as a leader.

So it wasn't hard to figure out the intentions of the 'friend' that was speaking to you, how their voice was almost sweeter, and the way they clinged onto your arm was signalling red flags.

Gepard wouldn't have minded this, it could've easily been friendly gestures, but Serval is one of your closest friends and you were within a friendgroup. And she knows that person has a crush on you, and it was painfully obvious.

So naturally, he swiftly and surpisingly gently pulls you from the waist out of their grasp especially with how firm his grip around you was. He gives them a not so friendly glare, and plants a soft kiss to your lips. "My partner." He states, pulling you close as you're left to be stunned with the sudden posessiveness of your partner. "Mine."

Blade simply stares down at the person even attempting to approach you with clearly bad intentions. And if they dare to try to push their luck, Blade comes home with blood on his hands.

"What did you do??" You'd ask, you already knew the answer after already learning what Blade was truly like. "What was necessary." He replied, a kiss on your cheek as he walks in through the door to wash his hands.

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

IN THE DARK OF THE NIGHT. ( House of the Dragon x Reader )

AUTHOR NOTE! I said fuck it and did all three. <3 pairing: CHUBBY! Aegon ii Targaryen x WIFE! Reader prompt: After noticing Aegon sneaking out of your chambers at night, you fear he had taken up hold habits. Only they weren't the one's that you were expecting. word count: 1, 000+ words

For a fortnight now it has been going on. You knew this for a fact, you keep count in your head. It was like a schedule or routine of sorts. You’d wake up, reach out for Aegon’s side of the bed, only for it to be empty and cold. At first you had assumed that he had gone to the bathroom or outside onto the balcony for some fresh air. It was the most logical explanation. 

Sometimes he was restless at night. Years of having a horrid sleep schedule, overindulging in wine that made him sick, and all of the secret trips to Flea Bottom in the cover of darkness made it hard for him to sleep. No matter how many times you two had tried to get him on a proper sleep schedule. It just never seemed to work. So this started to make you weary.

He hadn’t gone to brothels or Flea Bottom in two months now. He still drank Arbor red, but not as much as he used to before your marriage. He was getting better. Truly, and you adored how much he was willing to go just to show his devotion to you. But, there was a tiny voice. Just the smallest one in the back of your head that sounded a lot like the gossip in Court.

“You’re not enough. He’s finally lost that ‘Honeymoon High’ for you. He’s gone back to them, to the whores in Flea Bottom. To the taverns and bottles of strongwine.” It whispered.

But, tonight. Tonight, you were going to figure it out. Even if it leads to an answer that you did not like. Why was your husband leaving your bed at night? Where was he going? What was he doing?

And could you get Aemond’s help in getting rid of Aegon’s body should it come down to it?

Narrowing your eyes softly as Aegon walks down the corridor, the paranoid voice in the back of your head whispers into your ear, telling you he was going to see some mistress. He did not change nor look like he was leaving the Red Keep, still dressed in his night clothes and barefoot. So why else was he leaving your chambers? Clearly there was something or someone more important than you. This was not a mix of jealousy! Not in the slightest! No. No. Well, maybe a little. 

Waiting until he was far enough away, you slowly tip-toed after him, a thin robe wrapped around you to hide your chemise. You would get answers. One way or another. Furrowing your brows in confusion as he turns left to the where the kitchen’s are, you follow, confused. Okay, mayhaps you were being a tad dramatic. But, still, why was he going to the kitchens?

“Mayhaps he is visiting that pretty new servant girl, the one from the Reach. With her pretty golden hair and disgustingly pretty face that looked like one from a painting.” The voice in your head whispers.

Walking down the steps to the kitchen, you stop at the doorway, instantly flushing a bright pink as embarrassment fills you. Instead of finding Aegon embracing some girl. He was embracing a pastry and chalice of wine. Letting out a soft laugh of disbelief, you wish the ground would swallow you whole and never spit you out. 

He wasn’t cheating. He was gorging on food and wine. You truly were a fool to let stupid courtly gossip influence your mind. Hearing the sound of your shocked laughter, Aegon turns to look at you, eyes wide and full of horror. Shaking your head softly, his cheeks were stuffed full with the pastry he had just inhaled like air, the sugary custard smeared on his lips. 

“It is not what it looks like.” He blurts out, looking like a spooked animal. 

“Oh?” You raise a brow, “So, you're gorging yourself on sweets, right now? This is all a dream of mine?”

He pauses for a good second, almost as if he was contemplating on what to say next.

“Yes..?” He asks, unsure.

“I…I do not know whether to scold you, laugh at the ridiculousness of this, or go back to bed.” You breathe out, pinching the tip of your nose. 

“Can I get a kiss if you are going back to bed?” He asks, innocently. 

Oh, sweet seven hells. He was the most lovable and irritating man you had ever met. 

Struggling to hold any grudge against him for his sneaking around, you walk over to him, shaking your head with a chuckle of disbelief and amusement. The both of you probably looked like fools. You all disheveled and dressed only in a chemise and robe. Him, chubby cheeks smeared with custard, dressed in a tunic and loose pants. It was all so stupid. 

“I love you..?” He mumbles unsure. 

“I love you too, Aegon. I..I just..” You let out a chuckle of disbelief. 

“What? Tis’ not anything bad, just eating a few sweets.” He argues innocently. 

“For a fortnight now, you’ve snuck out of our bed, making my mind spiral to the worse.” You point to the plate in front of him, “For this?”

“Yes.” He nods, wiping his face clean with the back of his hand. 

Standing in front of him with a soft smile, you tenderly clean the last of the custard on the corner of his lips with your thumb. A tab bit grateful that it was only just his sweet tooth that had kept leading him away from your bed than some other woman. You didn’t know what you would do if it had been that. Staring back at you with a confused look on his face, he doesn’t pull back from the affection, leaning into your touch. A mix of confusion and a lovesick glimmer in his eyes. 

“What? Did I truly worry you?” He asks, “Tis’ just sweets.”

“A bit. But, the way you snuck out. Tis’ just, well, you..” You stop yourself, not daring to mention his past out loud. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. That was a bad idea. Why did you have to say that?

“I know what you're referring to. I..I have just found myself trading in old habits for something more..” He rambles on, “Pleasant.”

“I rather you tell me of this, than keep it a secret.”

“I did not wish to wake you.” He whispers, “Tis’ shameful to have awakened you and tell you that I wish to eat at such an hour.”

Stroking his chin with your thumb, you pull away from him for a moment, turning to the plate of sugary tarts and custard fill rolls. Hearing him grumble as you pull away, you playfully bump your hip against your own, cracking a smile at him. Sitting down on one of the counters, he scoots closer to you, his chubby body practically engulfing you as soon as you are in arm’s reach. 

“Now, what have you been eating, hm? Tell me all of it.” You tease, picking up a tart from the plate.

----

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@danytar

@nightvers

[ghostandsoap]

Feeling You

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem! Reader Tags: Light smut. Cockwarming. Ghost being a softie. Word Count: 1.0k "Just happy you're here."

⋆˙⟡ ♡⋆˙⟡

⋆˙⟡ ♡⋆˙⟡

In the quiet sanctuary of your shared solitude, you and Ghost sat chest to chest, your hearts beating in a rhythm that echoed the symphony of your love.

The world outside ceased to exist as you lost yourselves in each other's presence, your souls whispering secrets that only you could understand.

The warmth of his body seeped into yours, blurring the lines between where one ended and the other began. Your breaths intermingled, a testament to the intimacy that you shared. Each inhale was a silent promise, each exhale was a sigh of contentment.

The only sounds were your breathing, heartbeats, and the occasional whimper from you when Ghost shifted his hips underneath you.

Ghost's cock was nestled far inside of you, his tip pushed against a sensitive spot that you didn't even know existed until just now. He stretched your walls so perfectly and sat so comfortably inside of you that Ghost felt high off of it.

You had soaked his thighs and lower stomach, your arousal leaking on and around him. You weren't much better, because your inner thighs were dripping.

The two of you were spending the week together, not a single plan or obligation to be had. Ghost had every intention of staying in and keeping you as close as possible. It wasn't often that he had this opportunity, and he would be a fool to let it pass him by. The week consisted of movies, snacks, cuddles, and just about anything else that didn't require either of you to leave.

The two of you had been lounging on your living room sofa, just watching some cheesy documentary that you both agreed to watch. It was more for filler noise than anything, because the two of you had managed to chat with one another through the entirety of it.

When the film was over, you turned off the TV and your side table lamp to prepare to close your flat up for the night -- however, Ghost wanted just a few more minutes.

This was about an hour ago when Ghost had set you up on his lap. Mainly just because he liked having the chance to look up at you and he loved watching you sit on his thick, muscular thighs.

Frankly though, he hadn't anticipated this.

Somewhere along the way, your cotton sleep shorts and T-shirt were discarded, along with his sweats. Your clothes were tossed aside to be retrieved in the morning.

The two of you had shared some sweet kisses, and all the shifting around prompted Ghost to slide his cock into you slowly when you were wet and ready.

However, Ghost held you still when you tried to bounce on him, which caused you to raise a brow. Ghost was sitting up straight against the back of the couch, holding onto you in his lap like you were his lifeline. It took you a few moments to settle into this arrangement that he was making.

Eventually, the two of you morphed around one another like you were the most perfect fit. Like two pieces of the most beautiful picture.

It was inevitable for you to start squirming though. After all, it was hard to resist him when he was literally right under you.

Ghost groaned and huffed when you rolled your hips forward, one of his hands coming to your hip to restrain you.

"Sit still," He said, kissing your forehead. "I just want to feel you for a bit."

"Sorry," You sighed, head still resting on his shoulder. "Just getting comfortable."

"It's alright, doll..." He chuckled. "Just happy you're here."

Ghost's fingers traced paths of affection on your skin, each touch igniting sparks that danced beneath the surface. The silence returned, filled with the unspoken words of love that hung heavy in the air.

In this moment, you were not just two bodies sitting chest to chest; you were two souls intertwined in an eternal dance of love. Your connection was palpable, a force that defied logic and reason.

As the two of you sat there, Ghost realized that he was living a life he never thought he would ever have. He was experiencing a love that was uniquely his. A kind of love that he once thought he was far too damaged and broken for.

"You're so beautiful," He almost whispered. "My pretty girl..."

You pulled your head back to look at him, your eyes sleepy and cheeks glowing. He loved you so much he could barely even understand it.

"I love you." You remarked, rotating your hips in a way that was more involuntary than anything else.

Ghost couldn't help but let out a low laugh when your grinding down against him was returned with a slow, yet firm snap of his pelvis into you. He knew that this charade wouldn't last long, because one of you was going to crack sooner or later.

"I love you." He returned, his lips meeting yours in a meaningful kiss.

He didn't stop you this time when you started to rock your hips against his cock, the feeling of moving inside of you causing a flutter of his eyes.

He couldn't deny you any longer. He had to let you have your way with him. Truth be told, it was starting to drive him a bit mad anyways.

Your movements along with Ghost's were slow and careful...sensual. He wanted to feel you for as long as he possibly could. He would do this forever and ever if he could.

His cock felt insane inside of you as you fucked him at such a glacial pace. It was insanity because Ghost couldn't believe that he could ever deserve something as good as this...someone as good as you.

The slow rise and fall of your body onto his made both of your hearts begin to beat faster. The two of you craving the other like you were the only source of life.

And in the sound of your shared heartbeat, you found a melody that only your hearts could compose.

[juyeonszn]

BAD IDEA RIGHT?

PAIRING lee juyeon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 4.10k

GENRES … smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, literally porn with plot. like i’m so insane, enemies to “we fuckin” as reese put it 🥰, frat boy tbz again!!!, juyo is literally so irritating in the first half im not even gonna lie, he’s also a manwhore, making out, reader is a bit of a brat, juyeon has a dirty mouth, kinda dom!juyeon, vaginal fingering, oral (m! receiving), SHOWER SEX !12!1!, he’s hitting it from the back btw, unprotected sex, creampie, juyeon is actually… i don’t even know how to describe him writing his character made me want to claw at the walls lol

SUMMARY deep down you’re fully aware that you’re probably making a huge mistake by giving into juyeon just like every other girl on campus ever has. but paired with how intoxicating his mouth feels on your own and the steam filled bathroom clouding your head, you can’t seem to find a logical reason to stop.

MORE heheheh im back 🤭 oh my god this was actually the cause of a week full of sleepless nights. i genuinely drove myself crazy writing this bc NEED FRRRR like idk i’m so 😭 delusional. ANYWAYS. ANON. THIS ONE IS FOR U. U REQUESTED THIS AND I RAN WITH IT. u wanted more juyeon, i deliver more juyeon ;) also shout out to ally, moni, AND reese for beta’ing 🥺 i love u my cupcakes!! prompt used: 18 <3

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble

If there was anyone on Earth that you hated more than anything, it had to be Lee Juyeon.

To put things plainly, he was quite literally the bane of your existence. Being around him made your blood pressure skyrocket and gave you migraines that lasted for days. It was insane how one person could affect you so much by doing so little. It seemed as if he thrived off of getting under your skin.

Considering he was the captain and the pitcher of the baseball team, it wasn’t shocking. He was also a member of one of the most popular fraternities on campus. But he happened to be roommates with one of your best friends, and that made it ten times worse.

You’d known Changmin since third grade, along with Kevin and Chanhee. When he mentioned he’d be joining a fraternity in college, you were a bit apprehensive. All you knew about them was what you’d read in YA books and seen in movies. Neither gave them a good rep. Part of you wanted to talk him out of it, but you knew this was something you had to let him do, given you were adults and it was his college experience. At least you still had the other two under one roof.

The first time you met Juyeon was also the first time you attended a frat party. Changmin had just passed his initiation after waiting a year and he invited all of you to celebrate. You were excited for the most part since high school parties were more for an adrenaline rush due to the fact that your parents never let you go to them and you either snuck out or lied about going. You didn’t have to worry about the limitations of parents this go around.

The boys disappeared almost immediately upon arrival, leaving you to fend for yourself in the very crowded fraternity house. You could hardly pass through a room without bumping into somebody’s shoulder or elbow, huffing as you maneuver around the house equivalent to a sardine can. Your drink nearly spilled onto your top multiple times and you were glad you decided against the heels for the night.

You chugged the rest of the jungle juice in your cup as you stepped onto the patio, where it’s just as noisy and just as packed. You’re lucky enough to find an empty lounge chair near the house’s pool, unoccupied and calling your name. When your legs touch the plastic chair, you flinch at how hot it is, most likely from being in the sun all day.

“Woah, do you want a cushion?”

You look up at the source of the voice. You’ve seen him around campus before, and even at Changmin’s games. Lee Juyeon was just one of those people that you had to know, unless you’d been living under a rock. Just like everyone else in the world, you couldn’t deny how attractive he was. From this distance, you truly understood why girls would giggle like high schoolers over the guy.

“Uh, sure. Yeah, that would be great actually.” You nod, watching as he wanders towards the shed in the corner of the big ass backyard. He returns promptly, holding his red solo cup between his teeth and one hand on your lower back guiding you to a standing position so he could place down the cushion.

“As a thank you, can I get your name?” He gives you a cocky little smile that should’ve been a warning. And looking back on it, you should’ve seen his true personality sooner, to be completely honest. The way his lips curled at the corners, like a conniving bastard who got off on irritating others.

“It’s Y/N,” you say, messing with your empty cup. “I’d ask for yours, but I kinda already know.”

He laughs at that, scratching the back of his neck. “That’s not surprising.” It’s at this point that you’re starting to see through his sweet facade, but despite knowing better— despite always keeping your guard up— you let yourself fall for it just this once. All because you didn’t want to fuck things up for Changmin. He owed you big time.

“Well, you are a talented athlete.” You didn’t want to fuel what is probably already a massive ego, but you’d rather compliment his baseball skills than the fact that he was infamous for screwing around with half of the girls on campus. Technically, that was a feat of its own since he’d only been in school for a year.

“Oh, so you think I’m talented?” He rested a hand on your chair, leaning down to your level. Confidence oozed from every corner of his being and if you weren’t so self aware, perhaps you could’ve ended up like all those other victims of his charismatic behavior.

“I go to the games for Changmin,” you scoff, glancing away from his face to stop the heat rising up your neck. “I’ve only paid attention to you once or twice.”

“Yeah, sure. Let's go with that,” he bites his lip, blatantly checking you out. “I wouldn’t mind paying attention to you a little.”

“I’m unimpressed, Juyeon,” you snort, raising an eyebrow at him. “Does this shit really work on everyone?”

“I can drop the act if you want, baby. Just let me know when you’re ready to stop playing hard to get.” He stands upright, running a hand through his hair.

Every time you ran into Lee Juyeon after that, he was more and more insufferable. He knew his influence on you, too, if his smug fucking grin was anything to go by. You wish you could just slap it off of him. However, you stood by being the bigger person in any given situation, so that was off the table. (And half of you still felt a moral obligation to not get your friend into hot water.)

“Would it kill you to play nice every once in a while? I do live with the dude, you know.” Changmin whines, trailing you in the supermarket like a lost puppy.

“He’s got a point, N/N,” Kevin adds, humming as he tosses a boxed dinner into the cart. “I get that he’s a little bit of an overconfident douche, but rolling your eyes at him when he hasn’t even done anything just makes it worse on you. And JiChang, too, I guess.”

“Bro…”

You weren’t even sure why he decided to tag along with you and the other boys when you mentioned grocery shopping. In fact, he might as well have stayed his ass home if he was just going to gang up on you the whole time. Chanhee sighs dramatically, bringing your shopping cart to a halt.

“Can we not have a peaceful grocery trip? Is that impossible or something?” His lips form a thin line. “I swear, all we do is talk about how much Y/N hates Lee Juyeon. Can we please move on?”

“Thank you, Chanhee, I agree,” you nod along, walking backwards as you do so and ignoring the faces your friends make. “He makes me want to kill myself.”

“Who makes you want to kill yourself?”

You jump up, frightened by the sudden voice in your ear. Your friends all give you sheepish smiles, as if they’d already tried to warn you. (What shitty jobs they did.) With a hand over your heart, you turn around to meet— speak of the devil— none other than Lee Juyeon himself.

“What are you doing here?” Your eyes narrow and your arms cross over your chest. Luck could never be on your side when it came to this guy.

“Uh, last I checked, this was a public supermarket. Where I can publicly shop. I wasn’t aware that I had to run that by you. So sorry, sweetheart.” He pouts, his expression so theatrical you nearly give in to your constant urge to punch him in the face.

You feel your eye twitch, and it takes everything in you to step back and assess just how bad it would be if you committed murder right now. Changmin comes to your rescue, doing damage control as best as he can while Kevin attempts to talk you out of becoming a criminal.

The two frat brothers do their little fraternity handshake thing and then finally he’s out of sight, out of mind, allowing you to visibly relax. Chanhee purses his lips. “Okay, so maybe I do see where the anger comes from. And holy shit, Y/N, you have the patience of a saint.”

“The person you have called is unavailable! At the tone, please leave a message. When you have finished recording, you may—”

“Goddammit.” You curse, ending the unsuccessful call.

The downside of working far from campus, was working far from campus. You didn’t have your own car and usually relied on one of your roommates for a ride to and from. But now here you are, stranded at work while it’s pouring cats and dogs outside. Kevin was in class and Chanhee wasn’t picking up his phone. You could call Changmin, but you’re pretty sure he also had a class around this time.

Just as you’re about to succumb to your demise, you receive a text from Chanhee.

[2:57 pm] michael jackson: IM SO SORRY AJNSSJNW BUT SOMETHING CAME UP WITH A GROUP PROJECT

[2:57 pm] michael jackson: DONT WORRY THOUGH, IVE GOT IT COVERED UR STILL GETTING PICKED UP

“Could today get any worse?” You mutter to yourself, locking your phone and tossing it into your purse. As if your timing couldn’t be better, you spoke entirely too soon. Your eyes squint at the unfamiliar car rolling up under the carport. Your brows furrowed in confusion, because you had no idea who could be your saving grace. Chanhee was a wild card so who knew who he had on speed dial.

But then the passenger window rolls down and you wish the ground would just swallow you whole. Lee Juyeon grins that stupid fucking grin of his, beckoning you to his car as it unlocks when he shifts into park. You shake your head.

“No way. There is absolutely no way I am getting into that car.” You shout over the pelting rain.

Juyeon tsks, his eyes rolling when he reaches over the center console to open the door for you. “Is there anyone else who would drop everything they’re doing to pick you up in this weather?”

Your lips pull into a flat line. The answer was no, you didn’t have anyone else who would drop everything they were doing to pick you up in this weather. That was the reason Juyeon was here, you supposed. It didn’t mean you weren’t at least going down without a fight, though. Except, Lee Juyeon was a man who was all too comfortable with how expressive you were. Most notably towards him.

“What? Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?”

“Fuck you. I’d rather walk.” You seethe, starting straight in the direction of your apartment. Juyeon groans at first, your constant need to prove yourself getting on his nerves for once. Then his eyes widen slightly when he realizes you’re not joking.

The truth was that the rain was freezing and you’d love to be in the shelter of a warm car. In fact, you didn’t really care that Juyeon was the person driving. But you were too deep into the bit now. You couldn’t just turn around and get in the car, for you had a pride to protect at this point.

“Shit.” Juyeon swears under his breath, reaching into the backseat to grab an umbrella. Sure he loved to tease you and rile you up, but he wasn’t cruel. Your friends would have his head on a silver platter if he let anything happen to you.

You pause in your steps when you’re no longer being showered in rain water. Juyeon holds the umbrella over your head with a worried expression. You feel kind of bad for making him chase after you even though he’d already gone out of his way to pick you up. Sometimes you wish your ego wasn’t so fragile. Maybe then you could accept help when you needed it instead of making things worse.

“Can you please stop being so stubborn and just get in the damn car, Y/N? Do you have to make everything difficult all the time?” Usually, pissing you off made him over the moon, but you can tell he’s not exactly pleased at the moment. You swallow thickly, nodding quietly and following him back to his car.

The whole drive to your apartment is silent save for the song playing on his speakers. It’s not as loud in comparison to the storm outside, but you’re grateful that it’s filling the space between you. If only Lee Juyeon hadn’t done such an excellent job ticking you off like a bomb, then maybe you would’ve just hopped in the passenger seat with ease. But no, he had to goad you until you made an irrational decision and now here you are.

As he pulls up to your building, you say a little prayer that you don’t regret your next actions. He stops as close to the stairs as he can, but you turn to him before unbuckling your seatbelt. With a deep breath, you ask, “Would you like to— uh— come inside?”

He glances from you to the stairs and then shrugs, parking in the nearest empty spot. He holds the umbrella over both of you as you make your way to your unit, lightly sprinting so you don’t get anymore soaked than you already are. You figured the least you could do was invite the dude into your home and offer him some hot tea, just so he could warm up before heading back to the TBZ house. Your roommates not being here to make fun of you was also a plus.

There’s still an unspoken tension even after you’ve shed your raincoats and shoes by the front door, settling into your apartment and its coziness. Juyeon sits at the breakfast bar as you busy yourself with preparing the kettle and getting a couple tea bags. His watchful gaze is a little intimidating now that you’ve seen his serious side.

Once you’ve finished making the tea, you set his mug in front of him. You look everywhere but him when you say, “I’m gonna take a shower if you’re okay waiting out here by yourself.” He doesn’t respond verbally, so you take it as your cue to leave.

You turn on the water to let it heat up before gathering your essentials. When you’ve completed your back and forth trip from the bathroom and your bedroom, you’re finally ready to just relax in your shower and forget about today’s events. But how could you ever truly relax with Lee Juyeon in your space, permeating your peace?

As you’re shutting the bathroom door, a foot jams itself between the threshold and stops you. You glance up from the floor to meet Juyeon’s eyes. They’re darker than you’re used to, a deep shade of brown that has your stomach twisting into knots.

“You know, Y/N, this game of cat and mouse is starting to get old,” he takes a step into the steaming room, locking the door behind him and trapping you. “Just admit to yourself that you want me.”

You sputter at his bold words, because you don’t. You don’t want Lee Juyeon. Why would you want Lee Juyeon? “I’m not gonna lie to myself. I don’t want you.”

He laughs humorlessly, closing the gap between you just a little more. You don’t have it in you to back away from him. He reaches a hand up to tuck some damp hair behind your ear. You’re still wet and cold from your stupid idea to walk in the rain, but Juyeon plans to warm you up perfectly. “You sure?”

“Positive,” you breathe.

“Why don’t we test that theory?” Now he’s got you backed into the wall, his face a hair’s breadth distance from your own. “I have a feeling I can change your mind.”

You don’t know if it’s the heat of the bathroom or Juyeon’s lips being so close, but so far simultaneously that has your brain turning into static. Your head feels fuzzy, like you’re watching TV on an empty channel through a blurry lens. You lick your lips, vision trained on his. “Why don’t we?”

That’s all the confirmation he needs to press your mouths together in a searing kiss, hotter than the temperature of the room. You feel him smile against you when you make no move to push him away, instead carding your fingers through his hair. He groans when you tug a bit, twirling the longer strands around your index.

His hands slip under your top, thumbs rubbing circles into your waist. This is a terrible idea. Deep down you’re fully aware that you’re probably making a huge mistake by giving into Juyeon just like every other girl on campus ever has. But paired with how intoxicating his mouth feels on your own and the steam filled bathroom clouding your head, you can’t seem to find a logical reason to stop.

When you part for air, you both start stripping your top layers, resuming your attacks on each other’s lips once you’re left in nothing but undergarments. Juyeon trails kisses along the side of your neck, nipping and sucking wherever he feels fit. You gasp when he finds that particular spot that contributes to the butterflies fluttering about your stomach. “God, you’re so annoying.”

“Yeah?” And despite getting ready to give you the pleasure of your life, his grin against your skin still manages to irritate you. “You hate me so much, huh?”

“Mhm,” you whine as his fingers dip beneath the band of your panties, toying with your sensitive cunt. “Hate you so bad— ah…”

“You might wanna shut up soon, sweetheart,” Juyeon warns, sliding his ring finger between your lower lips. “Or else I’ll give that mouth something to do.”

“I’ll do whatever I want,” you pull his hand from your underwear, kneeling in front of him when he furrows his eyebrows in confusion. Your nails scrape lightly down his abdomen before hooking into the waistband of his briefs, freeing him from the material. It takes a lot out of you to not visibly react at the sight of his cock, hard and flushed to the tip. You couldn’t dare inflate his ginormous ego, the situation you were currently in already doing enough on its own. His size is impressive too, making you wonder just how he expects you to take him like a champ.

“What a fucking brat,” he hisses, your tongue swiping along the underside of his dick. “Always gotta have the last word, don’t you?”

“Mmmm,” you moan, mouth full with just the tip. You’d never been the type of person who cared about size. As long as they knew what they were doing and made you finish, you held no qualms with their length. In fact, you don’t think you ever even paid much attention to anyone’s dick in your life. But if there was anything to back Lee Juyeon’s cockiness, it had to be, well, his cock.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined this moment,” he confesses, wrapping your hair around his hand into a makeshift ponytail. “But, fuck, this is so much better.”

The admission shoots straight to your core and you find yourself whimpering, the vibrations against his dick driving him crazy. He has to support his weight with one hand flat to the wall, the other still tightly fisting your hair. With every suck and flick of your tongue, he tugs a little more, the sting on your scalp providing you with more pleasure than pain. You pull off of him to take a breath, jerking him off as you do so.

“Am I meeting your expectations?” You bat your eyelashes up at him, drool sliding down your chin and makeup smeared under your eyes in tear streaks. He groans at the sight of you, forcing you to a standing position so he could kiss you again.

You start dragging him towards the shower, unhooking your bra and stepping out of your panties. He raises an eyebrow at you, amused. “You want me to fuck you in the shower, baby? Have you slipping all over my cock?”

“Duh,” you can’t help but roll your eyes at his question, practically pawing at his underwear to get him out of them fully. “Did you think I sucked your dick on the bathroom floor for fun?”

“That mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble one of these days.”

He kicks them off, reconnecting your lips as you step into the shower. The hot water hits your back almost like a massage, synchronously getting in your mouth as you make out with Juyeon aggressively. It’s like he can’t get enough of you, big hands kneading and groping everywhere and nowhere all at once. You feel insane, especially with how good of a kisser he is. It’s like you’re on cloud nine and nothing’s capable of bringing you down.

When he’s finally lost his patience, he spins you around, pressing you cheek first to the shower wall. You feel him against your lower back, his lips leveling with your ear. In spite of acting as if he had himself under control, you can hear the pant in his breathing, deep voice a little desperate than usual. He has a hand gripping your thigh and picking up your leg.

“No protection?” He asks, his cock already gliding between your folds in anticipation.

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head as best you can with his body sandwiching you to the tiled surface. “Wanna feel you raw.”

“Fuck, you can’t say shit like that to me,” Juyeon groans into your ear, giving no warning as he spits down your front and hikes your leg higher, thrusting into your cunt. “You’ll make me wanna stay buried in you forever.”

You moan, hand coming up to hold the side of his head as he fucks you into the shower wall. If someone were to ask about this very moment, you weren’t too sure how you’d defend yourself. A moment of weakness, perhaps? But if a moment of weakness felt this fucking good every time, you might fall into a habit of judgment lapses.

He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, nibbling and biting your shoulder and the surrounding area with each snap of his hips. The angle he drives into you at has stars forming at the back of your vision, the tip of his cock brushing that one spot deep inside of you whenever he thrusts up. You don’t even think his entire dick is in you as he does this, but you also don’t really have the mind to care, way too focused on memorizing the veins of his shaft with your walls.

You’re far too gone to consider the consequences of your actions, the horizon of your release just beyond your fingertips now. You’d never needed someone so viscerally before, so carnally. Yet here you were, sucking Lee Juyeon’s cock in with your pussy like you were a damn vacuum. The sounds you’re making bounce back and forth on the walls, no doubt louder than the shower water itself.

“I— I-I’m so— fuck,” you mewl, words wobbling. “I’m so, so close, Juyo.”

“Yeah, baby?” He sighs in your ear, nudging your sensitive clit with his thumb while raising your leg as much as he physically can. “Me too, where do you want me?”

“Inside,” you don’t think you even make sense anymore, babbling as he continues to fuck you stupid. “Please. Want you to cum inside me.”

Juyeon grits his teeth, pleased with himself that he didn’t orgasm right then and there. He uses his last ounce of strength to get the two of you off together. “C’mon, sweetheart, cum for me.”

The fogginess subsides pretty quickly after you’ve finished, your brain registering what just happened almost instantaneously. If you weren’t so hypersensitive, you would’ve pulled him out yourself and scrambled to flee the scene. (And maybe even the country.) There are many more rational thoughts running through your head now. The entire trajectory of your life has just been changed, whether you realized it or not. But the biggest issue was:

What the hell do you do now?

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[taintedcigs]

— if you're feeling lucky

pairing: fwb!eddie munson x f!reader

summary: friends with benefit never ends well... or does it? based on this prompt by @dumplingsjinson (wc: 1.2k+)

warnings: just absolute fluff, maybe tiny angst, and a kiss, and thats it, oh and my shitty writing.

author's note: ignore the corny summary im lazy. the title has no meaning i just luv that song omfg. not proofread. based on this lovely request i got from angel @voyeurmunson i hope i did it justice i am so very rusty!!!! and the ending is rushed i AM SORRY

pleaseeee reblog to support me. ty!! mwah.

Y​​ou knew this would eventually happen. You agreed to this stupid "arrangement" knowing that this would be the outcome.

Just because you couldn't keep your feelings in check. Just because the two of you kissed hazily one night, minds filled with each other and the cheap weed Eddie provided. Like a knot that had been waiting to be undone, unraveling, so quickly, fading just as much—if not more quicker.

You should've seen it coming.

From the way your last rendezvous ended, when you accidentally kissed him goodbye on his way home. It was a simple, honest mistake.

Or was it?

The two of you had a set of rules; fucking with no feelings attached, make sure none of it got in the way of your friendship. It was supposed to be simple.

But that goodbye kiss was intimate, more than just fucking, and much more than your stupid friendship.

His cheeks burned a salmon pink, your plushy lips tainting his with something he had never experienced before; pure affection. Making him splutter, almost tripping on his way out of your house.

You barely registered what you did when he finally left, too enamored to even notice. Your son-of-a-bitch subconscious playing its tricks on you, feelings acting out before your logic can even kick in.

Stress ate away at you, but you assumed he wouldn't make a big deal of it. That this wouldn't ruin anything. He would forget this by Monday.

By the time he ignores your fifth call, and even goes as far as to avoid you in town, you start to blame your poor assumption skills. Try to ignore the insecure feelings that churn in your stomach.

Anger replaces those thoughts in an instant, because how could he just fucking end things without even talking to you?

Did he not even like you as a friend anymore?

Did one kiss really disgust him this much?

A lump sits in your throat at the unanswered questions, anxiety seeping through your skin, eating away at your organs, consuming you.

And after hours of endless anxious thoughts rummaging through your mind—and a long talk with your girlfriends where they urged you to talk to him, you end up at his door, arms crossed against your chest, wearing a scowl.

He opens the door with a bewildered gaze, your name falling softly from his lips, like a prayer, devoid of the lewdness it held than the last time you saw him. Much more affectionate, shattering your heart in every way possible.

"What is your problem?" You don't mean to go all out on him, especially when looks this good, bittersweet gaze meeting yours, tousled curly hair framing his face just in the way that has your heart skipping a beat.

"W—what?" He splutters.

You brush past him in a fury, "do you hate me now or something?" Your anger doesn't hold the same weight anymore, tone now laced with insecurity, a sadness that finds its way into your skin.

You don't let him talk, "do you realize how fucking childish this is? Ignoring my calls? Avoiding me?" He watches the way your brows quirk when you explain yourself, teeth pulling on your bottom lip worry, he wants to kiss it, your thoughts, worries away.

"That's not—"

"You could've just talked to me if—if you had any problem, ignoring me is fucked up."

Plushy lips open to speak, to explain himself, but you don't let him, fluttering your thick lashes at him, rambling on and getting more and more upset each time you spoke, tugging at his heartstrings, making him want to slap himself for being the source of your worries.

"We could've just talked this out, you know? W—we could've set up clearer boundaries and uh—" You were growing more and more frustrated, words getting mashed together with how emotional you were being.

"Will you let me—"

Again, you didn't let him speak, wanting to get it all out, knowing that this might've been the last time you spoke to him. Ever.

Your lip wobbled at the thought. "I—I just... 'm sorry, I broke the rules, okay? I—I swear it won't happen again, I don't want our friendship to be—"

"I can't be friends with you anymore!" He breathed, tone loud enough to startle you, the weight of his words taking a while to sink in.

You gulped, physically, mind too hazy to register what he said, that horrible feeling caging your chest, eating up the words that are unable to leave your lips. "Oh... uh—uhm, o—okay." You nervously nip at your nails, not knowing what to do.

"I can't do this anymore, either." He adds, pointing toward the space between the two of you, and you're unable to meet his gaze, too scared. The tears begging to be let out.

"Why—" You take a deep breath before you continue, prying your gaze from his stupid wooden floors, and back into those swirly caramel hues, now big enough to hypnotize you. Softening you in seconds. "Why not?"

"Fuck..." He mumbles, this time he's the nervous one, cheeks flushed with the prettiest pink all over. Fingertips trace against your features, settling on your cheekbones, and you let him. "Because I'm starting to get greedy, sweetheart."

Hope gnaws at your insides, the way something flashes in his gaze has you healing all over, the hold both of you have over each other is strong enough to gravitate you, yet both of you are too dumb to see it, notice it.

Until now.

"I can't just have that and be okay with it... I want—fuck that, I need more," He grumbles, desperate, a silent plea. Your mouth grows dry, lashes fluttering heavily to process it, the world stops spinning on its axis at the implication of his words.

"I need you." You can't help the way your gaze turns mellow, melting into his touch, everything you craved, and more, right in front of you.

A little taste of heaven.

Rolling your eyes playfully, plushy lips stretching into the prettiest smile, followed by a giggle—a heavenly sound he decides he can't fucking live without. "You absolute idiot," you breathe with a shake of your head.

"You didn't think to tell me that? Were you just gonna pull away? Bury your feelings away?"

He mocks a thinking face, "I'd write a few songs about it too, probably." Grin growing wider the more he looks at you, barely registering what the fuck is going on. That you even showed up at his door. That you're even entertaining the idea of being with him.

He's at the palm of your hand, and you don't even know it.

"Idiot."

Pushing a palm over his chest dramatically, he tilts his head in a manner that has you wanting to squeeze his cheeks. "An idiot you like back?"

"Unfortunately." His lips downturn, an exaggerated pout that has your smile stretching.

"An idiot I like too much that it's embarrassing," you add with a scrunch of your nose, a gesture Eddie wants to worship, want to leave open-mouthed kisses all over your face.

"I'll take embarrassing," he whispers, licking his lips before leaning in. You stare at his parted lips a millisecond longer, before pulling him by his stupid Hellfire shirt, pressing your lips hotly against his. 

Eddie only freezes for a second before his instincts take over, a groan rumbling in the back of his throat, deepening the kiss, lips parting to taste you, fully, completely. 

Only breaking the kiss once you consumed him, lazy smirk sitting on his lips, “Told ya we couldn’t be friends anymore,” he teases, that pretty dimple sitting on his cheeks. “Shut up,” you reply with a giggle, interrupting him before he can observe your features and try to drown you in compliments, fisting his shirt once again and pressing your plushy lips against his.

[theturtlelovers]

"Cum for me baby" from Don with his girlfriend please?

₩Φ₹$Ω¡₽₽¡₪g $¡₪

Pairing: Donnie/fem!Reader Rating: Explicit Contents: Donnie is strangely overcome with the need to have you right then and there. Warnings: 18+, mdni, mating season, hickeys, creampies, unprotected p in v (wrap it up peeps) Wordcount: 1,594 Sentence Prompt: # 75

𝕊𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕤

Notes: Excuse my poor attempt of being more poetic in my writing! Hope you enjoy!

Your presence was like a living temptation to him, as if every cell in your body was crafted to make him lose control around you. Carnally irresistible, Donnie found it impossible to keep his hands off of you. Earlier, he had tried with great effort to keep his eyes on the TV, but your scent drifted into his nostrils—so sweet and enticing. Overcome, he leaned down to breathe deeply in the crook of your neck.

The look you gave him almost made him shudder visibly. You appeared concerned by his sudden change in behavior, yet there was an undeniable excitement in your eyes as he ran his tongue over your pulse point.

He wasn't sure if something was wrong with him, but he wasn't entirely focused on figuring it out, as your soft gasps were far more captivating than anything else. His skin felt like it was on fire, and his glasses had become an irritation, so he quickly removed them and tossed them onto the coffee table. He didn’t need them anyway; you were close enough that he could clearly see your beautiful expressions.

Donnie was a turtle steeped in science, his expertise evident in the gadgets he wielded both in the lab and on patrol. He had deciphered ancient codes to deactivate a timed toxic bomb threatening New York City and uncovered the mysteries of the purple ooze. Yet, in your presence, all logic seemed to evaporate, leaving him a slave to his emotions. His instincts urged him to keep you selfishly close and immerse himself in your natural scent. He desired to fill the very being he worshiped with his essence so intensely that no one else could occupy your thoughts but him.

But as time stretched on, it seemed like hours had passed, and he was certain you were too overwhelmed to form a coherent thought. Your skin was flushed, adorned with a trail of red marks across your delicate skin—marks destined to deepen into purple.

It almost felt like your first time together, heated with a passion so intense that you couldn't stop trying to touch each other, yet tinged with nervousness due to a lack of familiarity with each other's physical needs. However, despite the similar rush of emotions, Donnie's hands never fumbled or shook with uncertainty. They moved with confidence and precision, driven by an eager desire to worship your very existence.

Just a tilt of your head was enough for him to capture your soft lips with his, sighing softly as he found a semblance of relief amidst his lustful haze. His large hands were intent on exploring the canvas of your body despite the fact he’s seen more times he can count, gently kneading your flesh, which was much softer than his own. 

"Donnie..." Your whine pierced through his haze of desire.

He shuddered this time at the sound, murmuring, "So pretty and all for me.” The turtle licked his lips, dried from his heavy pants for air.  

The space between your thighs glistened with a mixture of your juices and his essence—a beautiful concoction, Donnie might add. Despite the evidence that he had finished inside you several times, his attention remained laser-focused on your pleasure, his mind relentlessly urging him to give more and more. It would be remiss of him not to, especially when your lips parted so beautifully with each mewl that escaped them.

He pressed one hand firmly on your back to keep you pinned against the couch. A fleeting thought crossed his mind, wondering if a three-fingered imprint would remain, but it quickly dissipated as he became captivated by the way the sweat on your skin sparkle ethereally.

Seriously, were you a fallen angel hell-bent on cursing him to eternally crave your body? No matter how many times he made you cry out his name, no matter how tightly you clenched around him that is felt like you were pulling him deeper until he climaxed, he still wanted more. Or perhaps he needed more. Donnie couldn't tell anymore; his thoughts were so tangled that he couldn't distinguish desire from necessity. Either way, it seemed his body was surrendering to its own carnal instincts, relentlessly seeking release with you, in you.

Donnie muttered a curse under his breath as his free hand slipped beneath you, caressing the bundle of nerves that made your thighs begin to quiver. Your hands clutched weakly at the cushions, moaning with abandon.

He hissed through clenched teeth as he felt your inner walls tighten around him once more. "Come for me, baby. You can do it," he encouraged gently.

It was only a moment more before you released a stuttering squeal, your nectar coating him further as he continued to thrust into you, riding out your orgasm. Donnie bit his lower lip as his torso lowered to brush against your back, emitting a groan and a deep, reverberating churr that would make Raph envious. He pushed himself as deep as he could inside you as he came. Your smaller hand clung to the wrist of the hand between your legs, panting loudly.

Finally, Donnie's mind began to clear, his intense sexual need appearing to wane and find satisfaction. He hoped he hadn't pushed you too far.

You seemed to recognize that it was over when Donnie didn’t immediately resume thrusting into you with his previous unrestrained vigor. Slumping beneath him, you felt his weight relax as he lazily placed kisses on the hickeys decorating your shoulders. Both of you appeared content to remain in your current position, with him still inside you, enjoying the quiet aftermath together.

"Holy shit..." you mumbled.

He let out a soft chuckle. "Too much?"

You shook your head. "No, no. It was amazing! I just don't know what came over you so suddenly.”

“I actually don’t know either,” Donnie hummed thoughtfully. Carefully, he pulled away and slipped out from the comfort of your warmth. He had to restrain himself and look away when he heard you release a small whine, feeling the emptiness and his essence dripping down your inner thigh.

Donnie quickly put his glasses back on and walked away to grab some water and a towel for you. While he was gone for that brief moment, you sat up, grimacing from the familiar soreness setting in. You hadn't felt this achy in over two years, back when you were both fresh adults, newly eager to explore the beginnings of your sexual life together.

Once your turtle lover returned, he insisted on helping you clean up despite your protests about him being just as messy. Nevertheless, he was determined, so you let him help subconsciously avoiding your inner folds to leave them coated with his essence. After ensuring you were comfortable, he took care of himself.

After redressing lightly, you headed into the kitchen, taking the water Donnie had provided with you. Following a session like that, you definitely needed some food. Donnie, meanwhile, simply pulled up his underwear and lingered in the kitchen, watching you closely. His instincts urged him to stay nearby.

His mind was still slightly clouded from the spontaneous moment, but not enough to impair his decision-making. He had a gut feeling that the intense desire might return. It was confusing, though, why such behavior was manifesting in the first place, especially since nothing specific seemed to trigger his sudden, overwhelming urge to take you right then and there on the couch.

And your poor couch. It was probably ruined from your activities now. You two had used it like dogs in heat. Huh. Like dogs in heat. In heat. Heat. Heat!

Donnie's eyes widened impossibly with realization. He and his brothers were now at a sexually mature age. Furthermore, it was that time of year—mating season for red-eared sliders, when they succumb to their need to breed.

Oh God, he was in heat and completely unprepared for it. He cringed at the thought of what his brothers must be enduring without a partner to satisfy their reproductive urges. He guessed it was wrong to assume they wouldn’t experience it just because they hadn't felt it immediately after reaching puberty. Casting a long glance in your direction as you prepared packaged ramen, Donnie walked into the living room to grab his phone and sent Leo a text. It was around this time that his family usually gathered for dinner.

Donnie: How’s things going at the lair?

The self-taught scientist received a swift reply from Leo, who was always prompt when responding to Donnie, knowing it wouldn’t be just another meme or silly pun. Unlike Raph and Mikey, who enjoyed sending Leo those sorts of messages just to tease him.

Leo: Everything fine

Leo: Why? Should there be something happening?

Donnie lifted a brow. Donnie: No, no! I was just checking in! See ya later He set his phone down on the coffee table, his lips pursing in confusion. Leo wasn’t one to mislead about the state of their close-knit family, so surely everything was fine with them. It seemed the issue was just with him. Perhaps it was because he was the only one among his brothers who had any sort of sexual experience.

Donnie turned at the sound of your feet pattering across the floor as you returned with two bowls of steaming ramen. He couldn't really complain. Not when you approached him, your body adorned with such beautiful marks, a testament to the intensity of their earlier moments together.

Since you were around, maybe this experience won’t be so bad.

Tagging: @mrghostings, @whygz @supershiny-raven Interested in getting tagged? Come check it out!

Like what you read? Check out my masterlist to see if you find anything else!

[chris-prank]

I usually never write asks but I NEED more of esteban. I just binged all of your posts about him and I am obsessed.

Knowing that you took the time to write an ask because you like Esteban this much make me feel so honored 😭 ❤️

I am sorry that it took me so much time to answer 🙏🏻 it’s harder for me to come up with stuff without a prompt (and all the things about Esteban in my drafts are not completed 😔)

Yandere CEO x GN reader

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

You walked into the kitchen while rubbing your eyes, having been drawn by tasty smells. The first thing that caught your attention was Esteban diligently washing the dishes, his apron discarded on the counter. Hearing your little “Good morning”, he turned to you with a radiant smile.

“Good morning! I didn’t know what you preferred, so I made a bit of everything!”

That’s when your gaze finally fell onto the table. It was in fact covered with every possible breakfast staple; scrambled eggs, pancakes, crepes, sausages, fruits, rice, etc. Esteban looked at you intently, clearly waiting for you to sit down and take a bite.

“It’s really nice of you Esteban, like I really appreciate all the effort you put into this… but don’t you think it’s a bit too much food?”

“Oh! Don’t worry, I won’t throw away what you don’t eat. I’ll eat it or freeze it for later.”

That was… a weirdly normal and logical thing for him to say, was your immediate thought. You didn’t want to question him further, hearing your stomach growl, so you sat down and so did he. Resting his chin on both of his fists, he gave you a loving grin. You picked out your favorite dish out of all of them and took a bite. Your eyes dilated and you quickly plunged your ustensiles back into the food, it was so savory! You were convinced it could even be worthy of a five star restaurant. Esteban’s smile widened more as he witnessed your, not so subtle, reaction.

“You seem to like it.~”

“Like it?! I looooove it!” You answered, your mouth filled to the brim.

“Then don’t ever eat anyone else’s cooking, just mine from now on, ok?” He extended his hand to caress yours, his tone sickeningly sweet despite the deranged words he just said.

Anyone else would just pass this as a joke, but knowing him and seeing the flash across his eyes you knew he was dead serious.

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

The more you spend time with Esteban the more he will feel too comfortable showing his unhinged side. 💀

[speaknow-sw]

𝒦𝐼𝒩𝒦𝒯𝒪𝐵𝐸𝑅 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦

17/10/2024, Prompt : Incest, Daddy Kink, Orgasm Denial, Breeding kink, Threesome with Clayton Beresford & William Beeman

A/N : mdni, incest, daddy kink, slight orgasm denial, slight breeding kink, threesome.

Third fic yay ! This one is hella long and scrumptious as fuck. Don’t search the logic. Anyway enjoyy !

𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉 𝒶 𝓁𝒶𝒹𝓎 : 𝒶 𝑔𝓊𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒷𝓎 𝐵𝑒𝑒𝓂𝒶𝓃 & 𝐵𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓈𝒻𝑜𝓇𝒹

You step out of the sleek black car, feeling the crisp autumn air brush against your skin as you glance up at the towering glass skyscraper. Clayton Beresford, your fiancé, stands beside you, his presence calm yet commanding. With his sharp suit tailored to perfection and his eyes glinting with confidence, he’s every bit the billionaire CEO the world knows him to be. But to you, he's just Clay—the man who makes your heart race with every smile.

As you both make your way through the lobby, the gleaming marble floors echoing beneath your heels, you can't help but feel a sense of nostalgia. It’s been years since you last visited your father’s office. William Beeman, the legendary stock-broker and CEO, is known for his financial empire, but to you, he’s always been "Daddy," even with all the business aura surrounding him.

Clayton places a reassuring hand at the small of your back as the elevator doors slide open. "Ready?" he asks, his deep voice smooth and steady, a stark contrast to the nervous flutter in your chest.

You nod, offering him a small smile. "As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s see if my dad still as intimidating as I remember."

The elevator ride is swift, the numbers flashing by until it reaches the top floor, where the empire your father built waits. As the doors part, you're greeted by the familiar scent of polished wood and leather. William Beeman's office is a blend of power and legacy, the walls lined with shelves of finance books and framed photographs of world leaders he’s shaken hands with.

Your father looks up from his desk, his expression unreadable at first. Then, a slow smile spreads across his face as he stands to greet you both. “Ah, finally. The future Mr. and Mrs. Beresford.” His voice carries the same authority that’s made him a titan in the industry, but there’s a softness reserved just for you.

You step forward, your pulse quickening as you prepare to introduce Clay to the man who’s shaped your life in more ways than you can count. « Hi, daddy » you smiled brightly, hugging him.

Will's arms wrap around you in a tight embrace, pulling you close against his firm chest. You can feel the warmth of his body seeping through his crisp dress shirt, and smell the faint hint of his cologne - a spicy, masculine scent that always reminds you of home.

"My baby girl," he murmurs into your hair, his large hand stroking the length of your back. "I've missed you. How have you been, sweetheart?"

He pulls back slightly to look at you, his intense blue eyes searching your face. There's a hint of concern etched in the lines around them, and you know it's because of the accident that left you hospitalized.

"You’ll always be a little Beeman…" he whispered affectionately. "Are you feeling better? I hope that Clay here has been taking good care of you." His gaze shifts to your fiancé, a hint of challenge in his expression. "Because if he hasn't, well... let's just say I won't hesitate to teach him a thing or two about how a real man treats a lady."

His tone is light, almost teasing, but there's an underlying current of protectiveness that sends a shiver down your spine. Even after all these years, your daddy's love can be both comforting and intimidating.

Clay steps forward, his presence filling the space between you and your father. He extends his hand to Will, his grip firm and confident.

"Mr. Beeman, it's an honor to finally meet you. I'm Clayton Beresford, your daughter's fiancé. And yes, sir, I've been taking excellent care of her. She's my priority, always."

His gaze locks with Will's, a silent challenge passing between them. Clay's not one to back down easily, and it's clear he's not about to let anyone, not even his future father-in-law, push him around.

"I've heard so much about you, sir. Your reputation precedes you. I look forward to learning from your wisdom and experience." There's a hint of respect in Clay's voice, but also a subtle assertion of his own status and accomplishments.

You smiled but stayed in your father’s arms « He’s so sweet daddy… like you » You wiggled your hips.

Will's eyes darken as he feels you wiggle in his arms, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He tightens his hold on you, one hand sliding lower to rest on your hip.

"Is that so, baby girl?" he purrs, his voice low and husky. "Well, I'm glad to hear Clay is treating you right. But remember, no matter how sweet he is, he'll never be able to love you the way I do."

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "And don't think I haven't noticed the way you're pressing yourself against me, little minx. Your daddy knows exactly what you need."

Will's hand on your hip squeezes gently, a silent reminder of the connection between you. Even in front of your fiancé, he's not afraid to show his possessive side.

He pulls back slightly, his gaze shifting to Clay. "I hope you know what you're getting into, son. My little girl is precious, and I expect you to treat her like a princess. Because if you don't..." He trails off, leaving the threat hanging in the air.

Clay's jaw clenches slightly at Will's words, a flicker of irritation crossing his features before he schools his expression into a neutral mask. He takes a step closer to you both, his presence a stark reminder of his own strength and authority.

"Mr. Beeman," he says, his voice calm but firm, "I assure you, I have every intention of treating your daughter like the treasure she is. My love for her is unwavering, and I would never dream of hurting her."

He reaches out, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he turns your face towards him. "She's my world, and I'll spend every day of our lives proving that to her... and to you, sir."

There's a challenge in Clay's eyes as he looks at Will, a silent message that says he's not about to be intimidated. He may respect your father, but he's not afraid to stand his ground when it comes to you.

You pouted and brushed your fingers slightly against your dad crotch.

Will's eyes widen slightly at your bold actions, surprise and excitement dancing in their depths. He doesn't stop you, instead, he shifts his hips slightly, allowing you better access to his crotch. His voice is low and husky as he speaks.

"Baby girl, what's gotten into you today? Trying to stir things up, huh?" He chuckles softly, the sound deep and resonant. "Let's see how long Clay can keep his cool while you're playing with Daddy."

Will's hand rests on your thigh, his touch light but possessive. He turns his attention to Clay, a knowing smirk on his face.

"I see you're quite the gentleman, Clay. But I wonder, how long will that last when my little minx starts getting frisky?"

His gaze is challenging, daring Clay to rise to the occasion. Will's not backing down, and it's clear he's enjoying the tension that's building in the room.

Clay's eyes narrow slightly as he watches you play with Will's crotch. A muscle twitches in his jaw, betraying his annoyance, but his voice remains steady when he speaks.

"Darling, perhaps we should keep things civil," he says, his tone gentle but firm. "Your father and I have just met, and I'm sure he wouldn't want us to be too... forward in his office."

He turns to Will, his expression unyielding. "Mr. Beeman, I understand your desire to protect your daughter, but I assure you, my intentions are pure. I only want what's best for your daughter, and that includes maintaining a respectful relationship with her family."

Despite his words, Clay's hand tightens slightly around yours, a silent reminder of his claim on you. He's not about to let your father provocations go unchallenged, but he's also not going to stoop to the same level.

"Now, why don't we focus on getting to know each other better, without any unnecessary distractions?" He suggests, his gaze never leaving your dad’s one.

The sight of you spread out before them, your legs parted invitingly, is enough to break the last of their resistance. With a low growl, your dad descends upon you, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss.

At the same time, Clay positions himself between your legs, his fingers trailing teasingly along your inner thighs. He leans in, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin as he whispers, "You're so beautiful, baby. We're going to make you feel so good."

Will's hands roam over your body, exploring every curve and dip with a hunger that sets your skin ablaze. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate flesh as he goes.

Clay, meanwhile, is focused on bringing you pleasure. He parts your folds with his fingers, his touch gentle but insistent as he explores your most intimate places. He groans at the wetness he finds there, a testament to your desire.

Will continues his assault on your senses, his lips blazing a trail of fire down your body until he reaches your breasts. He takes one hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue as his hand massages the other.

The dual sensations of your dad’s mouth on your breasts and Clay's fingers between your legs are almost too much to bear. You arch your back, pushing yourself further into their touch, desperate for more.

Clay, sensing your need, begins to thrust his fingers inside you, his pace steady and deep. He curls his fingers just right, hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

Will, not wanting to be left out, moves lower, his tongue replacing Clay's fingers as he laps at your dripping core. He moans against you, the vibrations adding to your pleasure.

Together, they work in tandem, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. The sounds of your combined moans and the wet, obscene noises of Will's mouth on you fill the room, creating a symphony of lust.

Your moans and the way your body writhes beneath their touch spur Will and Clay on, driving them to new heights of passion. They continue their relentless assault on your senses, determined to bring you to the peak of pleasure.

Will, his face glistening with your juices, looks up at you with a wicked grin. He increases the pressure of his tongue, alternating between long, slow licks and rapid flicks against your sensitive clit. His eyes never leave yours, watching the ecstasy play out across your face.

Your fiancé, his fingers still buried deep inside you, leans down to capture one of your nipples between his teeth. He tugs gently, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. His free hand comes up to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck, which he proceeds to lavish with kisses and bites.

The combined sensations are overwhelming, and you can feel your body beginning to tense as your orgasm approaches. Will senses it too, and he doubles his efforts, his tongue working furiously against your most sensitive spot.

Your fiancé presses a third finger inside you, stretching and filling you in a way that feels so incredibly good. He matches the rhythm of his fingers with the movement of his mouth on your nipple, creating a delicious friction that sends shockwaves through your body.

As you teeter on the brink of ecstasy, they both seem to sense the impending explosion. They redouble their efforts, their touches becoming more urgent and demanding. Will's tongue circles your clit, while Clay's fingers piston in and out of you, hitting that perfect spot inside with unerring accuracy.

With a final cry, you come undone, your body convulsing as wave after wave of intense pleasure washes over you. Will and Clay continue their ministrations, prolonging your orgasm and drawing out every last drop of pleasure.

Clay's breath hitches as you turn around and take him into your mouth, your skilled tongue swirling around the head of his cock. He tangles his fingers in your hair, guiding you deeper onto his shaft. "Oh, fuck, doll. Your mouth feels incredible," he groans, his hips rocking forward to meet your movements.

Will, not wanting to be left out, moves behind you, his hands gripping your hips as he positions himself at your entrance. He rubs the tip of his cock against your slick folds, coating himself in your juices. "You're so wet, baby girl. I can't wait to feel you wrapped around me."

With a single, powerful thrust, Will sheaths himself inside you, stretching and filling you in a way that makes you moan around Clay's cock. The dual sensations of being filled from both ends are overwhelming, and you can't help but push back against Will, wanting more.

Clay, meanwhile, is lost in the sensation of your warm, wet mouth. He fights the urge to thrust into your throat, instead allowing you to set the pace. His grip on your hair tightens as he guides you, encouraging you to take him deeper. "That's it, baby. Take all of me."

Your dad, sensing your desire, grins wickedly. "Oh, baby girl, you want Daddy and Clay to breed this sweet little pussy of yours? To pump you full of our seed and make sure everyone knows who you belong to ? I was waiting for a grandchild but who knows ? It could be your sibling ?" He grinned menacingly.

Clay, nodding in agreement, leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. "We'll fill you up so good, doll. Pump you full of our cum until it's dripping down your thighs. Everyone will know that you're ours… but I’ll be the one to knock you up."

As you continue to bob up and down on Clay's shaft, Will establishes a steady rhythm, his hips slapping against yours with each powerful thrust. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, mixing with the moans and grunts of the three of you as you lose yourselves in the throes of passion.

Will leans over your back, his chest pressed against your shoulders as he reaches around to play with your clit. His fingers circle the sensitive nub, adding to the intense pleasure coursing through your body. "You like that, don't you, sweetheart? Having both of us inside you, filling you up?"

Clay, feeling your walls tighten around your dad’s cock, recognizes the signs of your impending orgasm. He pulls your head back, forcing you to release his cock, and captures your lips in a searing kiss. "Let go, baby. Come for us," *he commands, his voice rough with lust.

Suddenly you felt yourself being pulled off Clay’s cock and bounced furiously on Daddy’s one.

As Will pulls you off Clay's cock and bounces you furiously on his own, you can't help but let out a loud moan. The sudden change in position and the relentless pace of Will's thrusts send shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and you can feel yourself getting closer to the edge.

Clay, not wanting to be left out, moves in front of you, his cock bobbing mere inches from your face. He wraps his hand around the base, guiding it towards your mouth. "Open up, baby. Let me feel those pretty lips again."

You eagerly comply, taking your fiancé’s cock into your mouth once more. The taste of him mixed with your own juices is intoxicating, and you find yourself craving more. You suck and lick, your tongue swirling around the shaft as you bob your head up and down.

Will, feeling your walls tightening around him, knows that you're close. He leans over your back, his teeth sinking into the flesh of your shoulder as he continues to pound into you, chasing your orgasm. "That's it, baby girl. Come for Daddy. Let me feel you come undone."

The combined sensations of Will's cock hitting that perfect spot inside you and Clay's thick shaft filling your mouth are too much to bear. With a muffled cry, you reach your peak, your body shaking and convulsing as wave after wave of intense pleasure washes over you.

As you come down from your high, Will and Clay continue to move, their own releases approaching. Will's thrusts become more erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chases his own orgasm. "Fuck, baby girl, I'm going to come. Are you ready for Daddy's load?"

Clay, feeling your throat constrict around his cock, grabs your hair and holds you in place as he thrusts into your mouth. His body tenses, and with a low groan, he releases himself inside you, his hot seed spilling down your throat.

A few moments later, Will reaches his own climax, his hips stuttering as he empties himself deep inside you.

As they switch places, you feel a momentary emptiness before Clay is sliding into you from behind, his cock replacing Will's. He groans at the feeling of your tight heat enveloping him, and he starts to move, his thrusts deep and powerful.

Meanwhile, your father moves in front of you, his cock, still hard and ready, brushing against your cheek. He cups your face, guiding you to take him into your mouth once more. "That's it, baby girl. Suck Daddy's cock while that little fucker fills you up."

You eagerly comply, your lips wrapping around Will's shaft as Clay pounds into you from behind. The new position allows you to take Will deeper, and you relax your throat, letting him slide all the way in.

Clay, his hands gripping your hips, sets a brutal pace, his thrusts rocking your entire body. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing with your muffled moans around Will's cock and the grunts and groans of the two men.

Will, his eyes locked on yours, watches as you take him deep, reveling in the sight of you so thoroughly debauched. He rocks his hips, fucking your face with shallow thrusts, his cock hitting the back of your throat with each movement. "Fuck, baby, your mouth feels so good. You're such a good girl for Daddy."

You chocked on his gigantic cock, tears running down. « Daddy… » you moaned around his shaft.

The sight of you choking on his cock, tears streaming down your face as you moan around him, only serves to drive Will wild. He grips your hair tightly, holding you in place as he continues to fuck your face. "That's right, baby girl. Take Daddy's cock. You look so beautiful like this, all choked up and desperate for my attention."

Clay, noticing the tears, slows his pace slightly, his thrusts becoming more deliberate and controlled. He leans over your back, pressing his chest against yours as he whispers in your ear, "You okay, baby? Do you need a break?"

Despite the tears and the choking, you shake your head, your eyes locked on Will's. The love and devotion you feel for him, along with the intense pleasure coursing through your body, keeps you going. You want to please him, to show him how much you adore him.

Will, sensing your determination, nods approvingly. "Good girl. You're doing so well. Daddy's proud of you."

He continues to thrust into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat with each movement. The combination of pain and pleasure is overwhelming, and you can feel another orgasm building within you.

Clay, feeling your walls tightening around him, picks up the pace once more, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. He reaches around to play with your clit, his fingers rubbing in quick, firm circles, pushing you closer to the edge. "Come again, baby. It’ll be good."

The dual sensations of Will's cock in your mouth and Clay's fingers on your clit are too much to resist. With a muffled cry around Will's shaft, you come undone, your body shaking and convulsing as another powerful orgasm rips through you.

As you ride out the aftershocks of your second climax, stars in the eyes, Will and Clay continue to move, their own releases approaching. Will's thrusts become more erratic, his grip on your hair tightening as he chases his own orgasm.

As your body trembles with the intensity of the pleasure, Will and Clay sense your impending orgasm. They want to prolong your ecstasy, to keep you on the edge for as long as possible. In a show of dominance, they tighten their grip on you, preventing you from reaching that final peak.

Your father pulls out of your mouth, his cock glistening with your saliva. He leans down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth and tangling with yours. At the same time, Clay slows his thrusts, his hips undulating in a slow, sensual rhythm that teases rather than satisfies.

You whimper into the kiss, your body begging for release, but Will and Clay remain relentless. They continue their ministrations, keeping you in a state of constant arousal without allowing you to climax.

Breaking the kiss, Will looks down at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Not yet, baby girl. Daddy wants to feel you come undone when he's deep inside you. Can you hold on for me a little longer?"

Clay, echoing his sentiments, whispers in your ear, "We want to feel you shatter, sweetheart. Give us just a little more time, and then you can let go."

They resume their movements, Will's cock sliding back into your mouth while Clay picks up the pace once more, his thrusts growing more forceful and deliberate. The dual stimulation is almost unbearable, and you can feel your orgasm building again, even stronger than before.

As you struggle to maintain control, Will and Clay continue to push you higher, their hands roaming your body, pinching and squeezing your sensitive flesh. They're determined to drive you to the brink, to make you beg for release before they finally grant it to you.

« Daddy please….Clay… I n-need to….please please… » you begged, crying shakily. Your desperate pleas and the sight of your tears are enough to sway Will and Clay. They've pushed you to the limit, and they can see the desperation in your eyes. It's clear that you need release, and they're not determined to give it to you.

Will pulls out of your mouth, his cock slick with your saliva. He cups your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb. "Shh, baby girl. Daddy's here. We're not going to let you come now, I promise."

Clay, his thrusts becoming more erratic, nods in agreement. "That's it, doll. Don’t you dare let go. If you come there’s going to have a punishment, baby." He slapped you butt cheek earning a cry. 

You sobbed, trembling « Please…please…I’m a good girl….i can have it…please… »

Will slides back into your mouth, his cock gliding effortlessly past your lips. At the same time, Clay's thrusts become more forceful, each one driving deep into your core and hitting that perfect spot inside you. "That's it, baby girl," Will encourages, his voice strained with his own impending orgasm. "Take Daddy's cock again. Let go and come for us."

Clay, his fingers digging into your hips, picks up the pace even more, his thrusts becoming almost violent in their intensity. "Come on, doll. Let it happen. Show us what a good girl you are."

The combined sensations of your father’s cock in your mouth and your fiancé’s thrusts pounding into you finally push you over the edge. With a muffled cry around Will's shaft, you come undone, your body convulsing as wave after wave of intense pleasure washes over you.

The feeling of your walls clamping down around him is too much for Clay, and with a guttural groan, he releases himself inside you, his hot seed filling your depths. Will, feeling your throat constrict around him, follows suit, his own release pulsing down your throat. He pulled away and tapped his fat cock against your cheek, laughing.

As the three of you ride out the aftershocks of your shared climax, they collapse on top of you, their bodies covering yours in a warm embrace. They pepper your face and neck with soft kisses, praising you for being such a good girl and taking everything they had to offer. « This is how a real man treat a lady, Beresford. » your Dad patted his back.

[ana-reblogsposts]

𝐀 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭

fluff | Boyfriend!Tom Riddle | 💛✨🌟⚡️💫 | Tom Riddle Masterlist | Masterlist

Summary: Y/N's frustration with her hot feet transforms into joy when Tom offers his cold feet as a solution.

Y/N lay in bed, her eyes closed as she tried to drift off to sleep. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains, casting a gentle shadow over the bed where she lay. She shifted slightly, feeling the warmth of the blankets enveloping her body, but despite the coziness, she couldn't shake the feeling of heat gathering around her feet.

With a frustrated sigh, Y/N kicked off the blankets, letting out a contented sigh as the cool air brushed against her overheated skin. It was a habit she had developed over the years – whenever she slept, her feet would inevitably get too warm, prompting her to kick off the covers in search of relief.

Tom lay beside her, his own form tucked snugly beneath the blankets. He watched Y/N with amusement, his lips quirking into a small smile at her restless movements. He knew all too well about her tendency to kick off the blankets, and he had learned to accommodate her over time.

As Y/N settled back into bed, feeling the cool air soothing her overheated feet, Tom reached out and gently placed his own feet against hers. They were cold to the touch, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from Y/N's skin, but she didn't seem to mind.

Y/N opened her eyes in surprise, feeling the sudden chill against her feet. She glanced down to see Tom's feet nestled against hers, his toes wiggling slightly as he tried to find a comfortable position.

"What are you doing?" she asked with a laugh, unable to hide the fondness in her voice.

Tom shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Your feet were getting too hot," he replied simply. "I figured mine could use a little warming up."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at his logic, shaking her head in amusement. She reached down and intertwined her toes with his, relishing in the feeling of his cold feet against her own.

"Thank you," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You always know just what to do."

Tom smiled up at her, his heart swelling with affection. He may not always show it, but moments like these – simple, intimate, and filled with love – were what made their relationship so special.

As they drifted off to sleep, their feet tangled together beneath the covers, Tom couldn't help but feel grateful for the warmth they shared, both in body and in heart.

[smileysuh]

hotflash

🌙 staring. Haechan x afab!Reader 

🔮 preview. There'd been a time when leaving you alone to deal with your heat as an extreme precaution against unwanted pregnancy had been something the alpha could live with. But in the months he's had you as his mate, your cycles have synched up- and the thought that you're ripe and ready to be fucked - to be fucked by him - well, the wolf inside won't be tamed anymore. And Hyuck doesn't want it to be. 

cw/ tw. dubious consent/cnc, pussy eating fiend, multiple orgasms, temperature play, popsicles, face riding, 69, oral (f/m receiving), deep throating, fingering, overstim, slight dacryphilia, spanking, power play, a/b/o alpha x omega dynamic, possessive hyuck, dirty talk, praise, knotting, protected sex, mentions of breeding kink, 'just the tip', etc... I pet names. his: alpha. hers: needy baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 5.3k

🍭 aus. alpha!hyuck, a/b/o, omega!reader, establish relationship, heat etc...

☀️ mlist + an. sometimes, attacking a bestie with her favorite tropes and her favorite boy is the best idea you can have... sorry Jewel ❤️

“Hyuck-” your strangled voice makes the hairs on the alpha’s arms stand up, his skin prickling with energy. He can tell - even through the phone - that you’re not doing well.

“You’re early,” he concludes- because your heat can never truly stick to a schedule, and Haechan supposes that - out of all the mating bullshit he’s already dealing with - of course this would be the cherry on top. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t-” you begin to tell him the same thing you tell him every month, but Haechan’s not having it. He’s endured too many months already- paced outside your door like a wild animal for too many nights in a row-

“I have to bring you your suppressants,” he insists. The package of pills is in the back with Mark, who makes the bag crinkle when he holds it tighter. “I can’t believe you’re four days early-”

“Hyuck-” you whine his name again, a reaction to the anger tinged in his voice no doubt, and he grips the steering wheel tighter, pressing down on the gas.

“I’m bringing you suppressants,” the alpha states, leaving no room for argument this time. 

Your meek “okay” is the only response he gets, and then the line goes dead.

The car fills with silence, the air thick with energy and tension. 

“Don’t say anything,” Hyuck snaps at the man in his passenger seat.

“Wasn’t going to,” Jaehyun sighs, his voice much too calm for Haechan’s liking.

“I’ll say it,” Mark quips up from the backseat, “slow down, please.”

A growl tears its way out of Haechan’s chest, and he locks eyes with the beta in the backseat through the rearview mirror. “Fuck off, Mark.”

“I just mean- we’re already late to the start of her heat- speeding could end up with us dead, and then your omega is down a mate and her suppressants, which doesn’t help anyone.” 

There’s truth in his words- but Hyuck is done listening to truths and rationals- he pushes the engine even harder just to spite the man who dares speak logic to him.

There’s no logic in this for Hyuck, not anymore.

There’d been a time when leaving you alone to deal with your heat as an extreme precaution against unwanted pregnancy had been something the alpha could live with. But in the months he’s had you as his mate, your cycles have synched up- and the thought that you’re ripe and ready to be fucked- to be fucked by him- well, the wolf inside won’t be tamed anymore.

And Hyuck doesn’t want it to be.

“I still think it’s very responsible that you’re listening to your mate and giving her at least some space during her heat,” Jaehyun notes. “Shows a lot of control.”

“Right, because I’m known for my control,” Haechan rolls his eyes. 

In fact, he’s known for being impulsive. And the breeding kink he’d exhibited on your off-heat cycle had been enough to prompt you to shut your legs to him during your time of the month.

Regardless of any precaution taken by an omega in heat, knot condoms still break, alpha spunk still leads to pregnancy, and despite the best efforts of everyone involved, two of Haechan’s friends have accidentally gotten their mates knocked up in the past four months. 

“But hey,” Mark says helpfully, “remember, you’re not the only alpha abstaining- Taeyong-”

“Taeyong’s mate hates pups,” Haechan seethes. “And she knows he’s not ready to be a father.”

“Are you?” 

“You know what?” Haechan pushes his car as fast as it can go, “Yeah. I am.”

You hear Hyuck’s car pull up outside the heat cabin, tires kicking up gravel, and you await the onslaught to your senses that comes next. 

Everything is heightened for you, and the second your mate opens his car door, the inklings of his scent become known to you. 

The familiar smells of Jaehyun and Mark are on the periphery, and you hear the crinkle of a bag being passed off, your mate barking at his friends to ‘Fuck off-’

God, Hyuck telling others off shouldn’t be such a turn-on, but it is-

 The sound of his footfalls suggests he’s jogging towards your little heat cabin, and the shaking of pills in a bottle brings you both peace and anxiety-

Part of you had been hoping Mark would be the one delivering your meds. Mark, a beta who you wouldn’t jump even in the worst of your heat- 

But no, of course Haechan’s the one bringing them to you-

He’s always toed the line during your time of the month, and it appears this one won’t be any different. 

You struggle to hold your breath, trying not to take gulps of air filled with his scent, which is becoming stronger and stronger-

Haechan stops outside the door, and you hear him take a breath-

“Fuck.” 

He can say that again.

“You smell-”

He can say that again too.

“I’m not letting you in,” you tell him from where you’re curled up in bed, in the corner farthest from the door.

“Even though daddy has your meds?” His voice is lower than you’re used to- and he doesn’t usually refer to himself as daddy- but you’d be lying if you say the term isn’t affecting you.

You can feel your sleeping shorts getting wetter by the second, body beginning to come alive at the notion that your mate is just a few meters away.

“I mean,” Haechan coughs. “Come on baby, you need your meds.”

“You’re horrible,” you groan, hating how easy it seems to be for him to switch between lust and seemingly perfect composure-

“Is that any way to speak to the guy with your suppressants?” you can hear the smile on his voice- the playful teasing. You wish it was truly just playful… but you know there’s an ulterior motive.

“If I open this door,” you tell him, “you’re going to come in and stay.”

“Maaaybe.” At least he’s not lying to you. “But come on- I could easily break in through the window if I really wanted- and I’m not, that’s gotta count for something right?”

“You’re horrible,” you repeat for the second time, burying your face in your pillow. 

“Baby,” he places his hand on the door, pushing gently, and the wood moves everso in its frame, “let me in, let me help you with this.”

“By knocking me up,” you groan, mind already beginning to buzz with all the things you wish he’d do to you-

“I mean- sure,” you hear him swallow, “if you want, but… there are other ways.”

“Condoms break Hyuck, we’ve been over this-”

“What if I don’t even take my dick out?”

It’s the first time you’ve laughed all day, and it definitely relieves some of the tension in your shoulders. “You? Not taking your dick out?” Now it’s your turn to swallow thickly, a new rush of wetness tingling out of your core. “As if.” 

“I could try it-” he insists, and this time you hear him press his forehead against the door, pushing forward again. “Come on- listen, I even got popsicles- I know you’re really hot right now, with your heat and everything… imagine the feeling of my cold tongue licking at you.”

“God-” you squeeze your thighs together, hating that he’s right, hating that what he’s suggesting sounds like the perfect cure to your predicament.

“That’s it baby, think of how good it will feel-” he coos, “you smell so fucking good, I could just eat you up-”

“Just tongue?”

“Maybe fingers too- I bet you’ve got ice in there, or I could put my hand in a bucket of cold water or something so it feels good- anything to cool you off.”

Your eyes go to the jug of ice water next to your bed that you’ve been sipping on, and you toy with the wet cloth that’s already lost its cool as it wraps one of your bare thighs, exposed by the fact that you’re only wearing sleeping shorts and a bralette to cover your modesty-

“No cock, I promise-” 

He sounds so sincere. 

Your pussy practically throbs at the notion of letting him in- you can’t believe how much your body reacts to the mere presence of your mate, and you can’t even imagine how good it will feel to let him enter the heat cabin and take care of you-

You have half a mind to tell him to fuck off, suppressants and all- 

But your body wins, the tingling between your thighs taking over as you inhale a deep breath, allowing Hyuck’s familiar scent to wash over you and make you practically brain dead. “Give me a second- I have to get up and open the door-”

Your legs are wobbly as you stand from the bed, and the coolness of the hardwood floor offers some reprieve as you approach the only entrance to the heat cabin. 

“Stand back?” you suggest, heart racing wildly in your chest-

You can’t believe you’re doing this.

There are three locks in total, and you undo each with shaking fingers.

The moment the last one clicks out of place, you scurry back to your bed, something like fear overtaking you. 

You trust Hyuck- you do- but you’re not so sure you trust yourself. And you suppose, seeing as you’ve never allowed him near you during your heat, maybe you shouldn’t trust your mate after all-

He pushes open the door, and the full weight of your decision hits you.

The alpha takes a deep breath, and his chest rumbles with a primal growl as he releases it, his gaze taking you in inch by inch.

In one hand, he holds your meds, in the other, a plastic bag of what you assume to be heat provisions. 

“Suppressants?” you question, skin prickling with sweat-

You need meds, you need at least some relief- something to dull the ache between your thighs-

“Needy baby,” Haechan says lowly, stepping into the cabin before closing the door behind him. “And four days early- at least we were already out getting you these,” he pulls the bottle of pills from the parchment bag, tossing them at you. 

You catch the meds, cracking open the lid and spilling a few of the blue and white pills onto your hand, where you decide on taking two. Then you pop them into your mouth, grabbing the large ice water jug next to you to help wash them down.

“That’s it, baby-” Haechan says from where he’s putting provisions in the ice box. When he turns to face you again, he’s unwrapping a popsicle, “take those pills.”

“Hyuck-” you whimper, setting your drink and the suppressant bottle down to focus entirely on your mate.

“Your heat hit you pretty fast huh?” He licks the frozen treat, leaning back against the fridge and watching you. “Have you cum yet, baby?”

Instead of answering verbally, you take to nodding, gnawing on your lower lip.

“How many times?”

“Do you really have to be so far away?” you whine- and an even better question, has he always looked this fucking sexy?

“Just getting my tongue cold for you,” he responds, in the most non chalant way-

But you can see how blown his pupils are, and when you focus hard on his mouth- you see that his breathing is shallow-

“Now answer my question, babe,” Haechan presses. “How many times have you cum already?”

“Twice-” you tell him. “Once from- when you called and- I heard you speeding faster to get here- and then- again… from thinking about you-”

“Cute baby- couldn’t cum until you heard my voice huh? If I’d had known I had that sort of effect on you- we could have had phone sex your past few heats.”

You think you might cry if he doesn’t come closer, and the words that come out of your mouth as a response betray your growing irritability; “woulda, shoulda, coulda.”

“Oh baby,” Haechan releases a chuckle, but there’s little humor in it, “you’re gonna get it now.”

“Please-” you open your arms to him, and Haechan finally approaches the bed.

“Open your mouth baby,” he tells you, settling onto his knees at the foot of your mattress, “and come closer.” His hand wraps around your ankle, and he drags you towards him.

“Hyuck-” you go to say something, but the popsicle is presented to your lips, and you accept it, welcoming to cool treat into your mouth.

“That should cool you off,” he muses, pushing your legs open, “this might too.”

He presses his lips to your inner thigh, and you’re taken aback by how cold his mouth is- it’s an interesting feeling, but one you quickly begin to enjoy, as he gets closer and closer to your core.

“Lay back,” he tells you, “relax- and let me eat you.”

You release a moan around the popsicle you’re sucking on, letting your head fall back against the mattress, eyes closing-

Haechan pulls your sleeping shorts to the side, and he blows cool air across your pussy, making you twitch and whine even louder.

You garble his name around the popsicle, reaching down to play with his hair-

Your mate smacks your hands away. “Don’t touch me- it’s too hot to touch me,” he insists, and when you look down, you see his eyes are red with intensity.

“Hyuck?” you whimper, recougnizing that eye flares like this are one of the first signs in an impending rut-

You’re early, could it be that he’s going to be early too? Are you two that in sync?

This is probably a bad idea, you realize, as Hyuck dives into your pussy, pushing his long, cold tongue into your hole- 

A horrible, terrible, very bad idea. 

But fuck- Hyuck’s tongue is no joke, even on a non-heat day- 

Alpha’s are known for having long tongues, perfect for pleasuring their omega mates- and Haechan has always been a pussy eating fanatic-

He pushes his face between your thighs like it’s his job, licking and lapping at you with his cold tongue- it feels absolutely incredible. 

But then he’s pulling away, and you’re crying out-

“Give me your jug of ice water,” he commands, voice gruff-

You follow through immediately, stretching to grab it off the nightstand, hurrying to give it to your mate. 

You’re curious about what’s going to happen next- but Hyuck simply allows the jug to smack down against the floor next to him, and then he returns to your pussy, grabbing the back of your thigh with a warm hand to tug you closer-

Part of you wants to call him out- to say it’s unfair of him to touch you if you can’t touch him- but the words die down as his tongue sinks into you, and your focus returns to the deep feeling of pleasure growing in the pit of your stomach.

The popsicle you’re sucking on is getting widdled down shockingly quickly, the cool liquid running down your throat aiding in your temperature regulation while the man between your legs works you closer and closer to orgasm with a tongue that’s also beginning to lose its cool.

As you finish the frozen treat, you find yourself teetering on the edge of pleasure, and with your focus now fully on Hyuck- “I’m gonna-”

“Cum for me,” he growls into your pussy, nose flicking by your clit, “cum on my tongue.”

He buries the wet muscle into your core, lapping at your walls- 

And he knows you can never say no to your alpha- your body is physically incapable.

Your pussy clenches, hard, and an electric wave of euphoria rushes over your form, white-hot and all-consuming. 

“Alpha!” you moan, back arching- your hands seeking out an anchor, which they find in Hyuck’s hair.

You grind yourself down against his face, riding out an orgasm that has your mind going practically numb.

And your mate works you through it with an unrelenting vigor, until you’re a shaking, quivering mess, struggling to get away from his mouth to escape the sensitivity.

Hot tears roll down your cheeks, and you’re in disbelief at how good it feels-

You’ve had orgasms during your heat before, but none of them have ever been like this- none torn out of you by your alpha. 

Hyuck pulls away from your pussy, and your body slumps against the bed, your breathing labored while your heart races madly in your chest. 

A drop of cold water hits your abdomen- and then another- the feeling making you flinch, hot body suddenly overtaken by goosebumps-

You open your eyes to see Haechan, holding his hand just above your stomach, and you realize he’s the source of the water. His hand is dripping with it.

“Did that feel good baby?” he asks, bringing his fingers down to touch your skin, dragging a cold, wet line from rib to naval- 

You squirm against the bed, body conflicted between your hot core and the coolness being brushed over your skin. 

“Your hand-” you whimper, unable to finish your sentence, but you don’t need to, Hyuck understands you. 

He always understands you.

“Put it in your water jug while I ate you out,” he tells you simply. “Wanted to get my fingers cold like my tongue… gonna fuck you with them now, and it’s going to feel so good. Trust me.” 

“Please-” you find yourself pushing your hips closer to his face again, and Hyuck notices too, releasing a chuckle.

“Look at you-” he coos, “and your… needy behavior. Is that what you are? A needy little baby?”

“Yes-”

“Needy to be finger fucked till you cum?”

“God,” you groan, “please!”

Haechan’s gaze returns to your pussy, and he brings his fingers to your entrance, toying with you. His thumb brushes by your clit and you nearly choke, jolting a little at the sensitivity you’re still feeling.

“Don’t play with me-” you whimper.

Haechan laughs. “For a second, it sounded like you were giving your alpha a command,” he presses his thumb to your clit harder, “you weren’t doing that, were you, baby?”

“No-” you gasp, squirming against the bed again, grasping at the sheets.

Two of his fingers slip into your aching hole and the shock of the coolness of his skin makes your toes curl. 

“You’re mine, right?”

“Yes, alpha,” you whimper, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of his digits exploring you, working you open-

“Gonna let me do whatever I need to do to help you cum, yeah?”

You let out a sound of affirmation.

“Gonna need to hear a ‘yes, alpha’ or I won’t help you cum,” he tells you, sinking his fingers into you even harder-

“Yes, alpha-” you correct yourself, “help me cum- please, I need it so bad-”

“Already?” he leans forward, letting his lips brush by your sensitive clit. “Didn’t I just make you cum?”

“‘S not enough-” you whine, already feeling another orgasm bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

You’ve had intense heats before, but nothing has ever felt like this. You’re practically dripping onto Hyuck’s hand and you know it-

In fact, you can hear how wet you are with each pump of your mate’s fingers, which he expertly uses to stoke your sweet spot-

“Alpha-” you moan, holding the sheets tighter.

“Come on, needy baby,” he says, thumb finding your clit, “cum for me- I know you want to, your pussy’s gripping me so fucking tight- cum on my fingers, do it, cum for me.”

You’re thankful you’re in the heat cabin and there’s - hopefully - no one around, because the scream you release as your orgasm tears through you is almost embarrassing. You claw at the bed, hips lifting-

Hyuck’s free hand finds your abdomen, and he forces you back down, continuing his assault on your pussy and leaving you no room to escape.

“That’s it baby-” he groans, “Just. Like. That.” 

“Alpha- please-” you whimper, feeling tears in your eyes again from how overwhelmed your body is-

“Your ‘please’ means nothing anymore baby,” your mate tells you, “first it was ‘please make me cum’ now it’s ‘please let up,’ you’re too messy to make up your mind princess, that’s why you need a big alpha to do it for you.”

His fingers begin to slow inside of you, and you’re able to take a breath-

Which is when you smell something sweet, and it’s not the discarded popsicle stick.

You find yourself licking your lips, taking in deep breaths-

“Something smells-” the saltiness of it hits your nose and you realize what it is that you’re identifying-

The same way you’re slicked from your heat, alphas give off a specific scent when they’re in their ruts.

What you’re smelling is definitely Hyuck, a musky spiciness twinged with pine- and today, the tree notes remind you of sap; syrupy, sticky, sweet sap-

“Look at you, licking your fucking lips-” your mate growls, removing his fingers from your core and bringing them to his mouth to clean. He releases a groan of ecstasy before asking, “Am I the only one who’s gonna get a taste today? Or should I let you suck your alpha’s cock like you devoured that fucking popsicle?” 

“Please-”

“Say it,” he tells you. “Say you want to suck my cock.”

You moan, writhing in the sheets, and you truly mean it when you whimper the words “I wanna suck your cock.”

“Yeah you fucking do,” Haechan groans, standing up from where he’d been kneeling at the foot of the bed.

His hands go to his belt, and you sit up, ready to get into any position he wants you in to suck him off-

You discard your bra-

“I’m not done with you yet, baby, still wanna enjoy you- think I’m gonna lie down and have you ride my face while you take my cock deep into that fucking throat of yours-”

“Please-” you whimper, shuffling forward to see if there’s any way to help him undress- 

But your alpha is two steps ahead of you, pushing his pants down and tearing off his shirt. 

You’re only able to appreciate his beautiful body for a moment before he’s moving to lie on the bed, his hands grabbing at you to help you into position.

“Sorry about these,” Hyuck tells you as he lets you settle with your core over his face, his fingers hooking in the sleeping shorts that he tears in two and throws to the side.

“No you’re not,” you whisper, grasping the base of his cock-

“No, I’m not,” the alpha laughs, both hands grasping your ass and forcing your core down on his mouth.

His tongue isn’t cold like it was when he’d prepped it with the popsicle, no, it’s warm, and long, an invading appendage that has your toes curling as well as his fingers had.

You try to focus on the cock that you have your own lips wrapped around, and as you force yourself down on him, his tip hitting the back of your throat, you remember that he’d promised not to take his dick out at all.

You realize, again, how much trouble you’re in.

You’d not intended on letting him into the heat cabin, not intended on letting him get his cock out, and yet here you are, grinding your pussy down against his face while he buries his length in your mouth-

The alpha under you pushes his hips up, and his cock makes you choke-

It’s shockingly enjoyable, and you lift yourself off of him just long enough to take a breath, marveling in how messy you’re being-

Tendrils of spit connect you to the cock that you go back to sucking like he’s your favorite popsicle-

And in all honestly, right now, he is. 

It feels almost as if you and Hyuck are in a pleasure war, his tongue working better than ever against your pussy, hands on your ass, keeping you where he wants you- and you’re determined to suck the soul out of your alpha, until all that’s left is the man you’d fallen in love with.

You’re shocked by the sudden swat to your ass, and you mewl longingly around him, enjoying the tingles his hand leaves in its wake.

“Slow down-” Hyuck growls against your pussy.

You pull yourself off of him to respond, hand continuing to pump his length expertly. “Want alpha to cum,” you whine.

“I’m not cumming in your mouth,” he tells you, delivering another rough smack to your ass.

“Then where-” 

“You know where.” He buries his face in your pussy again, and you can’t help the rush of wetness that gushes out of you at his words.

You do know where.

Part of you had known he’d be fucking you, properly, when you let him in the cabin.

There was only one way this was ever going to go- and it’s Hyuck’s.

“Never said to stop sucking,” another smack to your ass, “just slow down. Gonna make you cum one more time like this, then- we can try just the tip.”

So he’s gonna lie to himself and you? 

Part of you wants to laugh at the idea, and you feel Haechan let out a small chuckle of his own as his lips wrap around your clit. 

He’s such an ass.

You’re hopelessly in love with him.

Your third orgasm since Haechan arrived is beginning to form, you can feel it tingling through your limbs with each lick and prod of your lover’s tongue.

Your mouth returns to his cock, but you make a conscious effort to slow down, to focus on your own pleasure instead of his-

The sounds Hyuck releases as he fucks his tongue into you is enough to satisfy an inkling of your praise kink, and you wiggle your hips, looking for more stimulation-

Two hands grab your ass, holding you exactly where he wants you as your alpha mate lifts his head up, burying his tongue in you as deep as he can go-

You pull off his cock to moan his name, your voice sounding so whiney and desperate that you’re almost taken aback by the fact it came from you.

A smack to your ass is as good as a command to cum, and you nearly faceplant against Hyuck’s thigh, whimpering and moaning while your orgasm overtakes you. 

There’s nothing to do but accept what Hyuck is doing- no ability to pull or move away- and the greedy wolf in you doesn’t want to. You take everything he gives, surrendering yourself to the pleasure he’s providing until you feel its electric heat throughout your entire form.

Your mate pulls away from your pussy when you begin to twitch, and in a second, you’re thrown onto your back.

You feel the bed dip as Haechan sits up, but you’re too far gone to care, eyes closed, chest heaving-

You hear him walk a few feet, hear a bag and then something tearing-

A hand wraps around your ankle, and you’re spun so you’re propped against the pillows, eyes opening to watch your alpha find his spot between your legs.

“You know how I said we could try just the tip?” he asks, rolling a knot condom onto his cock- which looks to be just aching- He lines himself up with your entrance, leaning down to kiss your nose, “I lied.”

His cock sinks into your core, and you both release groans of pleasure-

“Wish you’d let me-” he grunts as he begins to fuck you, “let me breed you- but you want to be safe, we can be safe.”

You’ve had this talk before, and you don’t have energy to rehash it.

You also realize you don’t care as much as you have previous to this- 

Hyuck could get you knocked up here and now and you’d thank him for it.

“Are you gonna-” you swallow thickly, lacing your hands around the back of Haechan’s neck. “Are you gonna knot me?”

His eyes flare crimson, and your alpha mate releases a growl, pressing his forehead to your own. “Yeah. Does that scare you?”

There’d been a time when it had. But not anymore, and you shake your head. “No, alpha.”

“No?” he fucks you harder, hot breath fanning over your face. “Gonna take my knot like the good, greedy, needy little baby you are?” 

“Yes-”

“Trust me, you’ve never felt anything like this,” Hyuck tells you, and you know he’s right.

Everyone knows about knotting, but, because you’ve never let your mate fuck you during your heat and his rut, you’ve never gotten to experience it for yourself. 

Today is as good a day as any to pop your knot cherry, and you’re thankful Hyuck’s worked you out, gotten you prepped. 

You’re practically a sopping mess for the alpha that decimates your pussy, your muscles tired from three orgasms-

You’re ready to take everything he has to give you, ready to wrap your arms around him, ignoring your increasingly hot skin- ready to have him stretch you out like you’ve never been stretched before-

“Fuck baby,” your alpha groans, hot lips finding yours, “you’re squeezing me so fucking tight-”

“Want you to cum,” you tell him, nearly in tears from how much you want it-

“Yeah?”

“Want you to knot me and make me yours forever-”

“Aren’t you already mine?” your mate moves his lips to your neck, teeth dragging against your pulse point, intent on scenting you more than he already has.

“Yes, alpha-” you tangle your fingers in his hair, back arching, “please, I’m so close-”

“You know that-” he swallows thickly, rutting into you harder, “that when I cum- when I knot you- I’m gonna be stuck inside you for a little while, right?”

“Yes- please, I want it-”

“You want it?”

“Yes-”

“How bad?”

“So bad-” you whimper, “Alpha please-” 

“Keep saying please,” he prompts, fucking you so hard that the bed is hitting the wall with each thrust.

“Please, please, please, please, please!” your fingers claw at his back, and you’re completely lost in the sensation of being filled so perfectly-

“Fuck, fuck-” Hyuck releases a groan, burying his face against your neck while his thrusts become erratic-

You feel something at your entrance, the base of Hyuck’s cock swelling, pushing and stretching your hole-

“Alpha!” you’re sure you’ve drawn blood on his back now, and you clutch him like a lifeline while his knot splits you open, anchoring his cock deep into your pussy while you’re both wracked with orgasmic shudders of pleasure-

“Just like that-” he groans loudly. “Take it, take it, take it-” 

He smashes his lips against your own, taking your breath away and muffling the sounds of pleasure that have been leaving you-

You find yourself getting lost in the kiss, tightening your legs around his waist, reveling in the feeling of being completely flooded with the best pleasure you’ve ever had.

Your body is practically thrumming with warm, wonderful energy, and you realize: this is what heat is all about. 

It’s about being filled, so completely, so perfectly, that you lose all sense, that you’re truly one with the feral nature that is always bubbling inside of you.

To be in this moment, with your mate- nothing in the entire world will ever compare. 

“Fuck-” Hyuck groans, breaking the kiss to return his lips to your neck, where he continues to lap and lick at the mark he’s been working on, “Feels so good-”

“So good,” you echo, eyes closed, head resting against the pillows.

Your lover releases a deep breath, slumping more weight onto your body, pushing you into the bed. It feels wonderful to be cocooned by him, even though the heat between your bodies is bordering on overwhelming. 

“I could stay like this forever,” he says softly.

You realize - as you hold him tighter - that, you couldn’t agree more. 

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I was missing the a/b/o au, and i figured temperature play, hyuck and heat would all go very nicely together lol, if you liked this fic, check out my other a/b/o fics here :)

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview.  Now that you know how good it feels to have Hyuck fuck you through the worst of your heat, it almost feels like a sin not to let him blow your back out. After all, you were both truly made for this.

cw/ tw.oral (f receiving), shower sex, dirty talk, praise, temperature play, protected sex, a/b/o knotting, multiple orgasms, nipple play, slight pain kink, slight orgasm denial, overstim, etc...

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.1k I teaser wc. 160

🌙 staring. haechan x afab!Reader  

bonus teaser :)

“I really didn’t realize he was serious about this,” Jaehyun sighs for the third time since he and Mark were tasked with driving into the city for heat provisions.

“Me neither,” Mark matches the alpha’s defeated tone. “But at least he’s being safe right?”

The bag of knot condoms is held tightly in his hands, resting on his lap. He’s never been more uncomfortable to be an errand boy.

“What happened to his mate’s whole thing about knot condoms breaking?” Jaehyun asks, taking the turn off the highway that will lead them back to the compound they live at with their pack. “Johnny and Yuta-”

“Maybe he convinced her Johnny and Yuta are stupid and he knows how to use condoms… better?” Mark suggests, earning a deep laugh from the alpha in the driver's seat.

“Right-” Jaehyun laughs, “because an alpha like Hyuck is a master of condoms during his rut.”

Mark decides to pray to God for your uterus.

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© smileysuh — all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any fic, reaction, or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed

general taglist:

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nct taglist

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due to tumblr restricting the number of people i can tag, i'll be reblogging with a few more tags of people who interacted with the teaser :)

[buckyalpine]

Still Mine

18+

Ex!Bucky x f reader 

You knew it was wrong. You had no business responding to his texts, still giving him attention after he broke up with you. You’d roll your eyes when you saw his name pop up on the caller Id and then you’d melt at his honeyed voice, finding yourself naked on his bed moments later, desperately moaning as he fucked you like it was the one thing keeping him alive. 

“We-we can’t keep doing this” You stuttered out between moans, the logical side of your brain screaming at you to stop giving into your desires. Bucky snarled against your neck fucking you harder, a surge of jealously and possessiveness coursing through his body.  

“Still gonna fuck you even if you’re married” He growled, angling his hips to fuck you making you squeal out. He rolled you both over so you were on top, his ego inflating as you started to ride him without prompting, your head thrown back as you rode his cock. “That’s right ride my cock, get yourself pregnant, you know I’m gonna fuckin’ fill you” 

You shook your head, too deep in pleasure to respond to him properly, making him more feral than before. He grabbed your hips, making you slam down on him, groaning at the way you gushed all over his crotch. 

“What if the baby looks like me” He smirked, biting his lip feeling you flutter around him, getting off at the thought of him breeding you. 

“Bucky we can’t-  You whined, fighting within yourself, unable to tear yourself away from the way he fucked your heart and soul, you could feel him everywhere, fucking smell him on your skin.

“Then why the fuck are you still bouncing on my cock, huh?” He gritted his teeth, hating every time you mentioned moving on or looking to date. He knew you deserved happiness and he was too fucked up to give it to you but the idea of you actually settling down with another man made him sick. He thought he did the right thing by letting you go but..

“Look at me” He grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks, making your lips pout. His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring as his crystalline eyes bore into you, his voice low, “M’gonna fuck you even if you’re married, you hear me?!” He planted his feet, fucking up into you, letting you fall limp on his body, his balls slapping your ass. “M’gonna get you pregnant in the same bed you sleep in with your husband” He nipped your ear, getting off at the thought of having you no matter what. He’d claim and mark you, always keeping a piece of himself in you even if you moved on. 

“Oh fuck, please” You sobbed, clinging to him, taking every thrust he gave you, letting him spank your ass raw. 

“You gonna keep the baby?” He forced your face away from his neck so you’d look at him, his expression dead serious, as he started to leak in your cunt. “Cause I’m leakin’ right now and I’m gonna fuck you till your round sweetheart, every damn time” 

“Yes James” You let out a wanton moan at the sinful thought of carrying another mans child if you were married to another, shivers running down your spine while your orgasm started to nip at your lust frayed nerves. 

“What if they look just like me, you gonna have a little baby me running around?” His voice was growing shaky, desperate to cum in you and get you pregnant as soon as possible, the thought of you swollen and tired because of him making him feral. You nodded against his skin, unable to speak anymore as you started to cum around his cock, your fluttering pussy making him throb. 

“What you gonna tell your husband, huh sweets? That your pregnant cause of super soldier cock? You gonna pretend it’s his baby? When you’re all tired and achy, your belly so fuckin’ big, you gonna tell him the cum that knocked your pussy up was mixed with the serum, that you need your real baby daddy to take care of you?”

You reeled at the utter possessive filth that spewed from his mouth, read to give him a baby if he wanted this instant. 

“No amount of foot rubs or massages are gonna take the pain away cause you’re carrying the winter soldiers baby, my fuckin’ child in your womb” 

“Gonna knock you the fuck up whenever I want” He started to fuck you harder, holding your hips while wrapping his other arm around you. His lips brushed against yours, swallowing each others moans as he gave into the pleasure of you milking his cock, his heavy balls aching. 

“You’re gonna have my babies, you’re gonna let me fuck you in your home, let me do whatever I want cause I own you-FUCKKK” He stilled, spilling ropes of his cum into you, keeping his cock deep inside you, not wanting a single drop the drip out. You panted, still clinging onto him, sighing at the feeling of his lips pressing against your sweaty forehead. He tilted your chin up to make him look at you, his cock still throbbing inside you. 

“You know that right?” He smashed his lips onto yours for a messy kiss, his way of claiming you again, full of need and words unsaid. “I own every bit of you” 

[ssahopelessly]

Sleepy Sunshine

PROMPT: The sun makes Characters sleepy, so they take a nap (part of the Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge)

SYNOPSIS: After spending some time in the sun, Reader comes inside to find Spencer. She’s hoping to take a nap, but Spencer is more concerned about the signs of heat exhaustion.

WARNINGS: SpencerxFemReader, heat exhaustion, possible dehydration, lack of self care, a Spencer science ramble (written by a not scientist) // let me know any I missed

WORD COUNT: 0.5k

a/n: something simple, hopefully sweet. I hope you enjoy! ☀️

Masterlist

“Spencer.” It was a low whine as she slipped onto the couch next to him, arms wrapping around his left.

“Yes love?” She just merely grumbled into his arm as she snuggled closer to his body, if there was even any space to fill. He noticed almost instantly though how warm she was, a particular shine to the surface of her face, her complexion redder than it was this morning.

“I’m sleepy.” Were the next words he could actually understand from her. Running a hand over her forehead to smooth back her hair, he placed a kiss near the corner of her hairline that wasn’t pressed against his arm, only building more evidence to his suspicion.

“How long were you in the sun for?”

“Not that long.”

“And how much water did you drink?” Her body stilled next to him despite his fingers now searching for hers. “Did you even take water with you?”

“I didn’t have any way to hold it, and then the bugs would’ve gotten to it and-” She was starting to whine as she pulled her excuses from memory. Her excuses were never unbelievable as she was normally a very logical person, but he also wasn’t so surprised to hear that this one time she forgot a vital piece of self care.

“The UV index was a high 8, almost 9. You should’ve brought your water.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t.” Had it been anyone else, he would be mad. The stubborn attitude and simultaneous surrender would’ve made him mad over such a reckless action. But when he looked down to the girl next to him, her eyelids threatening to close and obstruct his view, he crumbled with just that look alone.

“That’s why you’re tired. You know that, right?” His other hand reached over to her, the pad of his thumb brushing over her cheekbone as she leaned into his touch, squeezing his arm.

“Explain it to me?” Arms that had once wrapped around his own were now working towards his waist, Spencer instinctively raising the arm to rest behind her, fingers trailing up and down her back.

“When you’re in the sun, your body is pushing all of its resources to keep you cool in such an extreme heat. Meaning, any water your body has access to is being pushed away from the reserves that may still need it to keep you cool but that is also where you start to sweat out any of that water. So not only is your body introducing itself to fatigue by dehydration, but also in an effort to thermoregulate itself, it-” He would’ve kept going. He could’ve gone on about how the neural processors work to tell your body that it’s overheating and fatigued and how all of these things snowball into making you tired, despite your body's internal workings to stay awake in light. But he never got the chance, his words stopped by the soft snores let out beside him, the sound like a finger laid over his lips telling him to be quiet.

Rolling his eyes, he reached over to place one more kiss to her hairline before deciding maybe what they both needed was a nap. And that he could explain it all to her once she woke up again.

-

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