#looking forward to spending the rest of the month resting a little and reading and seeing friends etc <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[soulmvtes]

just submitted my last essay!!!!!

[pathologicalreid]

come a little closer | s.r.

in which you and Spencer have sex for the first time since his release from prison, and more importantly, since Cat told him what happened in Mexico

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: mentions sexual assault, spoilers for season 12 of cm, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, crying during sex, cockwarming, explicit consent, not really softdom but reader has spencer take the lead, read with care word count: 2.65k a/n: this bad boy has been in the works for MONTHS. please tell me if you like it i'm so desperate for affirmation. (also this is the last kinktober post of margotober)

His hands on your waist were becoming firmer in their placement as Spencer continued pressing his lips to yours, expertly slipping his tongue into your mouth as he managed to take your breath away.

This could be as far as you went, and you would be content with that. After prison, after Mexico, you were grateful that he let you in at all. You were sleeping in the same bed at night, he was home for the month, teaching forensic psychology at a private university in the district. “Are you okay?” You whispered against his lips.

You were sat on the edge of the bed, and he was standing between your legs. “Yes,” he responded, continuing his motions.

In the past few weeks, you have found yourself in this situation three times. The first two times he had called it off, being too overwhelmed by fractured memories of his time in Mexico. The last time, you asked him to stop when you got stuck in your head, too anxious to remember that you were supposed to be enjoying it.

Today, you were tired. Too tired to think about anything other than the feeling of his lips on yours. You couldn’t control the whimper that escaped your throat as he gently tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth.

He pulled away slightly, eyes studying your face quickly before he asked, “That was good right? The noise?”

Your chest ached at the recognition that he had been left with so much self-doubt that he didn’t even know if what he was doing was right. Nodding confidently, you peered up at him through your eyelashes, “Yeah, that was good. I liked that,” you assured him.

It felt like the first time. As if you hadn’t had sex together multiple times and spent the past several years learning what the other liked. “What do you want me to do?”

“Take the lead,” you implored, looking at him. You couldn’t tell him what to do, at the very core of your actions, this was about him. This was about what he needed to do. You could always tell him to stop, but if he asked you to change something, you’d move heaven and earth to make him comfortable.

You just wanted to make him feel comfortable. The way you could feel his heart pounding in his chest, made you wonder if he was going to call it off. You had to bite your tongue from asking if he was alright, you needed to trust that he would tell you if anything was wrong.

Surprising you, he deftly slipped his hands beneath your t-shirt, pulling the soft fabric off of your torso in one quick movement. He used the pads of his fingers to lightly skim your bare body, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. You kept yourself quiet, looking up at him as he studied you with wonder in his gaze, “You’re so pretty.”

If you hadn’t been hyper-aware of your surroundings, you might’ve missed the compliment. “I love you,” you breathed, chest tightening in a nauseating mixture of adoration and nervousness.

“I love you too,” he responded easily to you, his large hand placed firmly on your ribcage while his other planted itself on the mattress, maintaining his balance as his head craned forward to kiss you.

Your hand shook as you thumbed the hem of his shirt, moving your lips against his as you waited for him to cue you. The catch there was Spencer could spend hours kissing you without needing anything more. Your other hand rested softly on his collarbone, a non-sensual location where you were still touching him, but it wasn’t an intimate touch, at least, not in a sexual sense. It was an intimate touch in the sense that you were using the soft pressure of your palm to reassure him that you were here.

Spencer’s hand on your side gently pushed your back down to the mattress, once the fabric of the sheets was touching your skin, you eyed him curiously as he took his shirt off of his own volition. Better food and a considerably less stressful living situation had brought him back to life, and the haunted look that he came home to you with had faded over the months.

He stepped back from the mattress, and before you could figure out what he was doing, he took your thighs in his hands and moved you so your body was entirely on the bed, and you thought that the laugh that came from you as he moved you would be the end. Clamping your hand over your mouth, you looked up at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, mortified.

Shaking his head, Spencer smiled and climbed up on the bed with you, “No,” he breathed, hovering over you, “Do it again.”

This time a nervous laugh bubbled through your throat, “What?”

He dropped a soft kiss to your lips before pushing himself back up on his arms, “I just want this to feel normal. It’s sex, there’s no need to be so procedural about it.”

You stared up at him while nodding, “Okay,” you affirmed, reaching a hand up and fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck. There was no procedure available to you. There was no pamphlet that could readily guide you on being intimate with your formerly imprisoned boyfriend after a serial killer let him know that she had arranged his sexual assault in a foreign country.

The best thing you could think to do was let him take the lead. He was the one who had initiated this, and you were more than willing to follow.

Spencer deftly pulled your underwear and shorts down together, guiding your legs out of the extraneous fabric before he paused. His arm looped around your leg, effectively hugging your calf as he rested his chin on your knee, heady eyes looking at you before he spoke, “Oh, angel,” he murmured, “My memory never does you justice.”

Your stomach flipped at his words, your hips adjusting on the sheets as he detached himself from your leg and returned to his station above you, this time with you fully nude beneath him. “Then it’s a good thing I’m right here,” you murmured, giving him a slice of comfort with a double meaning.

His hand skimmed down your chest, resting his palm on your lower belly before he looked back up at you, brown eyes meeting yours, “May I touch you?”

Breathlessly, you nodded, “Yes,” you told him, verbalizing your answer. Reinforcing your response as his hand slid further down, cupping your heat with his hand, his index finger slipping between your folds.

He didn’t break eye contact with you as he gently rubbed you, his unpracticed hand quickly gaining confidence as your lips parted and your breath quickened. You hadn’t considered how quickly your orgasm would build up, but for as long as it’s been for him, it’s also been for you.

His finger slid into you slowly, his eyes watching you carefully with every slight movement, and a soft moan escaped from your throat at the sensation of his finger knuckle deep in you, feeling miles further than your own fingers could ever reach. Lifting your head up, you brought your mouth to his, moving your lips slowly against his, moaning into his mouth as he withdrew his finger, slipping it back in with ease. There were no words that you could find that would accurately explain the amalgamation of emotions that were rushing through you right now, but the way you were kissing Spencer portrayed them perfectly.

Spencer hummed against your lips, delicately adding a second finger to his ministrations, the stretch of your pussy around his hand causing your back to lift off the bed. He started thrusting his fingers in and out of you, a gentle but firm pace that took away your ability to focus on kissing him, letting your head drop to the pillows.

“Oh, Spencer,” you breathed, the knot building in your lower belly causing your head to spin. “Spence,” you panted his name, “You’re gonna— ah.” You screwed your eyes shut for just a moment before opening them again, meeting his as you whispered, “Please, please, please.”

Your incessant begging only came to an end when your orgasm finally took you under the influence of dopamine, walls clenching around his fingers as he worked you through the waves of pleasure coursing through you. “You’re so pretty,” Spencer mused, his words taking you slightly by surprise as his hand withdrew from your cunt.

You sighed dazedly up at him, reaching up a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, “I love you,” you whispered, looking up at him with wonder in your eyes.

The lopsided smile he gave you was all you needed to know that all was well, and the kiss that he dropped on your lips elicited the same feeling. “I love you too,” he muttered against your lips, keeping himself propped above you.

Parting your lips with curiosity, you struggled to find the words to ask him. “I want… Can we…” you tried, but everything fell short as your eyes searched his desperately.

Spencer took his lower lip between his teeth, and you knew that if he called it off, you would be more than happy with the progress that you’d made. You’re surprised when he responds, “I need you to say it. I need you to ask.”

“Would you like to have sex with me?” You asked him, there was a tentative note in your voice that seemed to bring him comfort. A sort of cumulative blanket of uncertainty over the moment that you were sharing.

Spencer nodded in response “Yes,” he said, giving you a verbal answer.” He didn’t take another moment to think about it before he moved off of the bed, your eyes followed him curiously as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and underwear, dropping them both to the floor in one fell swoop. “Yes,” he repeated.

With every ounce of self-control in you failing, you eyed his cock. Standing at attention, the tip was leaking pre-cum and he looked almost painfully hard, your lips gaped at the sight, “Oh.”

Finding his way back to the bed, he held himself above you, not touching you at all as his head tilted to the side, “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yeah, I am,” you looked up at him. “It’s just been a while,” you breathed, letting your nerves show through in the hopes that it would ease both of your minds.

He smiled softly at you, understanding clear in his expression, “We’ll go slow, okay?”

His use of the word we made your chest tighten, a recognition of your nerves as much as his. “Okay,” you breathed, opening your legs slightly wider for him and placing your hands on either one of his shoulders.

Biting on your lower lip, your eyes flittered down to where his hand was positioning his cock at your entrance, the soft skin of his tip swiping over your clit as he found his mark, pushing just the tip inside, and giving the both of you the time you needed to adjust. You moved your gaze back up to his face, studying him intently as you did so. As sure as he seemed, you wouldn’t put it past him to push through something if that’s what he thought you wanted.

“Take your time,” you whispered, trying to reassure him without it being overbearing, your breathing hitched when he pushed in more. Somehow, at only about half of his length, he felt impossibly deep in you.

Making eye contact again, Spencer watched your expression, “I’ve got you,” he said, dropping soft kisses to your lips, one after the other.

You nodded, keeping your eyes on his to the best of your ability, “I’m okay, we’re okay.”

Your words gave him the confidence to push into you, fully sheathing himself inside of you, and breaking eye contact. His head dropped into the crook of your neck, groaning against the soft skin as you tried to adjust yourself with the sheer amount of pressure between your legs.

Taking a deep breath, you froze at the realization that tears were falling onto your skin, the nearly inaudible drip of them on your neck and the pillow behind you spreading an icy feeling through your veins. “Spence,” you whispered, combing your fingers through his hair while you felt his dick twitch inside of you.

He didn’t respond, not verbally at least, producing a low hum.

“How are you doing?” You asked him softly, trying to stop your walls from clenching around him while he was clearly having a moment. “We can stop if you need to,” you murmured, continuing to play with his hair.

Slowly, he pushed himself up on shaky arms and kissed you, tasting of salty tears and bitter coffee. As his lips coaxed yours open, he moved his hips, gently filling you as he did so.

Tears pricked at your own eyes as you realized that he was being as gentle with you as you were with him. It had been six months since you last opened up to each other like this.

“I missed you,” he muttered, pulling his head back so that he could watch where your bodies were joined, his shaft covered in your slick as he thrust in and out.

You already knew that he’d missed you while he was away, but he specifically missed this. The feeling of baring your soul to another person, and this time around it all felt that much rawer. It broke your heart while simultaneously putting it back together. “I missed you too,” you whimpered, forcing the words out while he found a steady rhythm.

His thrusts were still slow, but they were hard, pushing himself as deeply into your cunt as he could go. “You’re so good for me,” he said, grunting as he kept moving, “Fuck it’s— Can I cum in you?”

Nodding frantically, you met his eyes again. “Yeah,” you breathed, a sharp moan torn from your throat as he moved up, changing the angle ever so slightly as he continued fucking into you. “Oh,” you gasped, as your eyes rolled back at the sensation of him spilling himself into you, his sloppy thrusts sending you over that same edge.

You couldn’t make sense of whatever he was mumbling while his hips stuttered to a stop, leaving himself firmly planted inside of you. He rested his head on your shoulder, his body lying on top of yours.

Once you remembered how to breathe, your hands made their way back to his head, fingers combing through his hair. “Are you alright?” You asked him, seeking out a final confirmation that he was, in fact, okay.

He hummed in response, “I’m great,” he said, “I’m really really… in love with you.”

Startled, a light giggle escaped your lips, “I’m really really in love with you too,” you responded, mimicking his intonation.

“You’re so perfect for me,” he murmured, coveting you in a way that made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. As far as you were concerned, you were the luckiest girl in the world.

Sighing, one of your hands fell to his arm and you closed your eyes, ready to fall asleep like this, with him still tucked into you.

Your other hand remained up, playing with his hair, “You’re gonna make me sleep,” he said, a half-complaint, really.

“That’s okay,” you whispered, knowing that eventually someone would get up and turn off the lights, but right now, you’d rather stay with him. Right now, that was the only thing that mattered to you.

[reidrum]

one of me is cute, but two though?

A/N: …no explanation for this i fear. probably ovulating again. stream short n sweet, happy kinktober !

cw: *cracks knuckles* smut 18+ minors dni, softdom!spence, fingering, oral (m receiving), breeding kink, praise kink, marking?, cr**mp*e, edging, aftercare, pet names, mentions of hypothetical pregnancy, fem!reader, a very real research paper that i actually looked up and read, this is filth but at least it’s prn with plot!

wc: 3.2k

summary: spencer can’t wait to have kids with you, in fact he wants to start right now

i love feedback! and talking to people!!! especially about spencer!!! pls interact with me it would make my entire existence okay thank you also this isn’t proofread

Spencer having baby fever wasn’t new to anyone, as the godfather of two of his closest friends’ children and known to be a crowd favorite to the kids at parties, he always had a longing desire to have children of his own to love and raise.

He’ll admit that at the start of your relationship he didn’t know how far the two of you would go, what kind of future was out there for you both. But the more you integrated into his life, his routine, his values, the more he knew for certain he would spend the rest of his life with you.

That brings you to today, you and Spencer were having an errands day making stops at the grocery store and target. As you’ve finished shopping around you both stand in line to checkout, and you’re standing behind a mother holding her little baby staring at you with her big green eyes. Your face melts as you coo gently at the baby, making silly faces and enjoying her little giggles.

A completely normal moment for you, but absolutely world changing moment for Spencer. It’s like something turns primal in him watching you play with the baby. Suddenly he’s picturing you rocking cradles at night, taking your kids—his kids—out to the park, how you’d look with a round belly carrying his child.

He looks at you with an adoration fueled by need, as in he needs to get you home right now before he attacks you in the middle of target.

A gently nudge pulls him from his daydream, “Hey, you okay? Lost you for a second.”

He shakes his head and steps forward to place the items on the conveyor belt and goes up to pay, “Yeah, no I’m okay.” he says mindlessly swiping his card and grabbing the bags.

You furrow your brows and walk to the car, tabling his weird behavior for another time to discuss, “I’m too hungry to question whatever that was right now, can we get pho?”

“Sure, baby. Whatever you want.” He wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your head before getting into the driver’s seat, absentmindedly still thinking about what your little ones would look like.

After you get lunch it’s a short drive home, but Spencer can’t help but wonder how the hell he got to this point. He wanted children with you, and yet you weren’t even married, not even close to it. You had just moved in with him only a few months ago, but he’s still firm in knowing he wants to spend forever with you.

You open the door to the house, Spencer following behind imagining little footsteps pattering throughout the house, a mini you and mini him. He’s so into his daze he doesn’t see the dining table and bangs his hip against it.

He groans in pain as you rush into the room, “Are you okay? I heard a bang.”

“No, I’m fine I just hit my hip.” He winces in pain.

The suspicion from earlier rises again and you can’t help but bluntly ask, “What is going on with you? You’re being spacey and weird with me. If it’s something I did please tell—“

“Do you want kids?” he blurts out interrupting you.

Your eyes widen, “Wh—what?”

Spencer’s eyes widen too, why the hell did he just say that? “I—um…Okay, not as in right this second. But, is that…something you’d want in the future?”

You pause for a few seconds before speaking softly, “Yeah, it is.”

“Okay. Cool.” He tries to say as nonchalantly as someone who downed an espresso shot.

Then it all starts to click for you, the lingering touches, the looks at the store when you’d see little babies, on walks in the park he’d stare into the playground.

“Spencer…do you… want to have kids…with me?” You ask so softly he subconsciously moves closer to hear you better.

He tries to pull every psychology and behavior tactic he can to read the expression on your face, to decipher what you’re truly feeling, but he comes up empty and is left to grapple with the emotions of the moment on his own.

“Are you mad?”

“Mad? Oh baby, no I’m not mad. Just a little surprised, I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” You move to stand right in front of him at arm’s length, to let him know you’re right there, that you’re always there.

“How could I not? You are so beautiful, kind, and smart. I think I’d be the luckiest dad in the galaxy if my kids turned out like you.” He says softly, grabbing your hand to thumb at the palm in a soothing manner, more to calm his nerves than yours but it’s really working both ways. You couldn’t look any softer to him than right then.

He continues, “I’m sorry if I made things awkward, but I love you, and I want a future with you. House, kids, taxes, all of it.”

You fake gasp, “Even taxes?”

“Especially taxes,” He smiles as he plays into your dramatics, “Like I said, I don’t mean right now. I know there’s like thirty steps we have to take before then. But I’m here for all of it.”

“Spence…” You tearfully smile, “I love you, and I want all of it too.”

Spencer couldn’t be more happy as he slowly leans in to kiss you, lingering so you know just how happy he is. He pulls back and peppers kisses all over your face while you giggle, “Okay, okay!”

He presses one last big kiss on your forehead, cartoonish noise and all, and he wraps you up in his arms tightly.

“So…did something happen today that made you tell me?” You ponder. Of course you’d been thinking about a future with Spencer. but you didn’t know that he felt the same way, and so seriously at that.

He mumbles into your shoulder, “You were playing with that baby in the Target checkout line. And I’m not kidding, all day I couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d look like carrying our child.”

You grin wickedly, “You really wanna knock me up that bad, huh?”

“Sweetheart, you have no idea the restraint I had today to not pounce on you in the middle of the store. I would have risked the life ban in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah?” You glide your finger down his chest, “What did you wanna do?”

Spencer smirks, seeing the game you’re playing. “Well, I was thinking about this book I read on the best positions for maximum fertility.”

“So you read porn—“

“It’s not porn!” He chuckles, “It’s a real scientific study they did in Cambridge about if different positions induce fertility due to the variances in angle of the male ejaculation, and whether it would increase the rate of fertilization. It was actually really fascinating. They had the subjects do it inside the MRI machine.”

You can’t help but feel flustered, “I can't believe that turned me on.”

“I also know that you’re ovulating right now, so all your sexual senses are heightened.”

“I know I should find that funny, but it’s actually so fucking hot that you know that.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders to bring his head closer to your ear as you whisper, “Wanna go try them out?”

Spencer’s eyes darken and he immediately reacts, “Jump.” holding your thighs up so you can wrap your legs around his waist. You giggle a little above his head, cupping it with both hands as you lean down to kiss him while he walks to your bedroom.

He tosses you onto the bed with a squeal before working his shirt off, watching you slowly peel your own shirt off and shimmy out of your pants leaving you bare in a bra and panties.

He lets out a groan, “I think you’re trying to kill me.” He climbs over your body and leans down to attack your neck, one hand holding one of yours above your head the other trailing its way down. A finger traces the outline of your panties, pressing down on the wet patch near your entrance.

You moan languishly and he smirks at your reaction, “I got you, okay baby? Gonna make you feel so good.”

His finger finally slides past the fabric and makes contact with your cunt, gathering the slick and spreading it all over you. Breathless moans escape you, and by the time you’re used to one finger the fucker adds another finger and rests his thumb on your clit drawing soft circles.

The feeling of his fingers sliding so easily in and out of you is terrifyingly intoxicating, and you can’t seem to get enough. He can feel you squeezing his fingers and by your increased moans he knows you’re close, “C’mon pretty girl, you can do it.”

The little praise he gives you is enough to send you over the edge, and you’d be embarrassed at how easily it affected you if you weren’t so overcome with coming down from your peak. You slowly regain your bearing through heavy breaths and look up at him above you with hooded eyes, “Jesus, Spence.”

A wide smirk plasters on his face as he stands up from the bed, “Just getting started baby.” He makes work of his belt buckle and slides it off while you crawl over to help him with pulling his zipper down. You tug his pants down enough to expose his bulge, and you lightly palm him through his boxer.

A deep groan rumbles through his throat, his hands coming up to gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail as watches you slowly pull him out of boxers. He’s achingly hard, tip red and throbbing. You coo at him, “Poor thing, must’ve been painful today keeping this in, when all you wanted to do was come inside me, hm?” a strangled noise leaves him as you continue, “I know you really wanna sink your dick in me, but can I have just a little taste?”

The doe eyes you give him as you speak your lewd words has him nearly teetering over the edge and you haven’t even put your mouth on him yet. He nods vigorously, not trusting words to do him good and watches himself slowly disappear down into your throat, further and further back until he hits something hard and you gag a little. He mutters a sorry that sounds like a half cry half moan, but the way his hips are subconsciously thrusting into you and the hand that’s gripping your hair guiding you so, tells you he might not actually be that sorry.

“Fu—uu—uck.” his head tilts back as the overly enunciated curse flies out of his mouth. Your head bobs with a ferocity on his cock, using your hand to pump whatever you can’t comfortably fit into your mouth. Spencer thinks this is what heaven must be like, that you an angel personified have brought the pearly gates down onto the Earth and blessed him with your mouth.

You continue to take him into your throat for a few more seconds before you feel a sharp tug on your hair that wasn’t meant to hurt but might’ve felt that way with how desperate Spencer needed you off of him.

“What happened?” you ask, voice raspy and confused.

He breathes heavily, “Don’t wanna come in your mouth.” you giggle and sit up on your knees and Spencer closes the distance by reaching for your head in both hands and pulling you in for a long kiss.

“Turn around.” he whispers low, gently pushing you onto your stomach the second your back is to him. The anticipation builds as you can hear him remove the remainder of his clothing, and he climbs over you to unclip your bra and gently pull your panties over and off your legs.

He tosses them to the side and returns to looming above you while you’re splayed out on your stomach in front of him. You get on your forearms and arch your back, letting your ass and cunt be on full display for him knowing this was a position he loved. He can’t help himself but lean forward and swipe his tongue through your folds, groaning at how sweet you taste.

When he pulls off of you, you’re fully expecting his next move would be to finally be inside you. What you don’t expect, is him backing up a little and pulling your legs back towards him so you’re back to lying fully flat on the bed. Before you even have a chance to question him he’s crawling back over you and lowering his head to whisper hotly in your ear, “Have you ever tried this one?”

The long and soft whine you let out goes straight to his cock as he lines himself up at your entrance and slowly pushes in. Pushing past the folds of your cunt that wraps so perfectly around him, he’s in awe watching it enter you. You, on the other hand, are on a different planet from the feeling the new position is giving you. He’s deeper than he’s ever been in you, reaching spots you didn’t even know existed, his hands pressing onto your back so hard you know there’s going to be imprints later.

The moans escaping from you are consumed by the sheets beneath you, his pace unrelenting as he holds you in place and ruts into you.

“Spence..” you whine softly.

The weight of his hands press your body further into the mattress as he leans down right next to ear and whispers hotly, “Yeah, baby?

The emotions builds in you fast and the need to kiss him becomes stronger, “Wanna see you…Need to see you.”

His hips stutter at the tone of your voice, so whiny and desperate, all for him. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky, how he became the object of all your desires, how everyday you wake up and it’s him you choose repeatedly, and will continue to choose for the rest of time. You’ve always loved him, it was a fact you made sure that he knew every single day.

When he flips you over with a gentleness, he leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, hoping that the synergy flows between your contact and you can feel it in every nerve ending, just how in love he is with you. He think you got the message as he watches you move your hand between your bodies to grab at his cock and slowly guide back inside you while you both watch him push fully into you again.

He looks down between your bodies and watches his cock move in and out of you, mesmerized by the ring of slick that reappears with every pull out. It’s nearly automatic the way his thumb reaches for your clit and moves his eyes upward to watch you completely unravel at the hands of his touch.

Your brows are furrowed together in pleasure, “Fuck…’m close.” you mutter through a whine.

His hips snap to meet yours rapidly, “Yeah? Me too…” he taps your leg to lift it onto his shoulder, deepening his angle and circling you around the throes of your release. He grunts out, “Gonna let me put a baby in you?”

You clench down on him hard with a loud moan, neither of you expecting the effect his words had on you. Spencer chuckles and bends down to press love bites into the crook of your neck before trailing back up to your ear and whispers, “Didn’t think you’d be into me talking like that…you really want everyone to know who fucks you good every night? Want them to see you walk around with our baby in your belly?”

Your moans are uncontrollable at this point, it’s a miracle you can still hear him over the incoherent, borderline babbling sounds you’re making. He doesn’t relent as his hand slides up your neck to grip your jaw to hold your head in place, “Say it, I wanna hear you say it.”

A whimper falls out of you, “I—fuck—I want y—you…”

His hips slow down their pace, “Not good enough, sweetheart. Tell me what you want.”

The tiniest panic rises in you at the thought of him stopping, “No, don’t stop! Spencer, please. I want a baby, please want it all with you, please, please.” You realize in that moment you were never above begging to begin with, not when he’s between your legs offering you the world from the comfort of your sheets.

His pace quickens and groans at your pleas, leaning down closer so he’s chest to chest with you, “Oh, sweet girl,” he pants, “You’ll look so pretty carrying our kid, gonna drive me crazy watching you walk around.”

A string of moans trail out of your mouth, encompassed by the feeling of him inside you, the thoughts of your future together only adding to the intensity of the moment.

You weakly breath out, “Come inside me, please. Wanna make you a daddy.”

That was all Spencer needed to hear reach his peak and release into your cunt, rhythmic moans punctuating every thrust. Your grip on him tightens as you squeeze out every last drop of him. He feels himself become soft and gently pulls out, watching his come drip out of your hole. With a whimper he delicately picks up the excess with two fingers and enters you again, eliciting a languished whimper to match his.

“I know, I know, baby. Did so good for me, ‘m so proud of you.” he mumbles, watching the white coat his fingers as they move inside you. “Can you give me one more? Just one, I promise. Look so pretty like this, I can’t help it.”

You’re about to protest, feeling the sensitivity get the better of you when the pleasure hits again, another moan escaping you clearly telling him you can take it.

It’s a softer orgasm this time, a smaller peak but still lust filled and has you panting heavily as you come down from it. Spencer finally collapses on the bed next to you, his chest also heaving.

“You okay, baby?” he mumbles after a few minutes.

Words can’t fulfill you right now and all you can offer is a nod as you lazily lull your head over to him. He nods and reluctantly gets up from the bed despite your pout with a promise to be so quick, and returns with a wet cloth, a water bottle, and a fresh set of clothes for you. You let him gingerly clean you up before he helps dress you and slips right back into place beside you with a kiss to your temple.

“I love you…so much,” he whispers while pulling you into his embrace, “I really can’t wait to start a family with you.”

You hum contentedly, tilting your head up to press a kiss to his jaw, “I love you too.”

A few moments pass before he speaks again, “But…you’re still—“

“Still on birth control, baby. Don’t worry.”

[letsbangts]

warm up || jjk

⤷ summary: when you help him warmup

��� pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 2.1k

18+ // mdni

⟶ genre: smut, fluff, established relationship au

⟶ content: boyfriend!jk, idol!jk, porn with some plot, the other members make a small appearance

⟶ warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content: fingering, kissing/making out, nipple sucking, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up babes), big dick jk, soft dom jk, rough & soft sex, creampie

↬ a/n: this was inspired by this request so @kloserpeenguintiljk I hope I delivered! & to everyone who reads hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! angel xoxo

masterlist

"Kook, I don't think we should," you insist while trying to pull your hand away from your boyfriend's grasp in resistance.

He ignores you, still dragging you down the hallway to his hotel room. You press your heels into the floor to keep from moving forward, achieving no success due to the man's strength. But you continue with your plea,

"What if the guys get angry with you?"

He looks back at you over his shoulder with a quirked brow, "Get mad at me for wanting to spend time with my girlfriend?"

"No, get mad at you for skipping practice," you say.  

It is the first time you have joined the guys on tour. When Jungkook asked you to come, the decision was easy; you would rather be with him than be apart for months. There is no debate about that. But you are beginning to worry if you are more of a distraction to him than anything.  

He should be downstairs for rehearsal with the rest of the group in the hotel's banquet hall, where they are currently staying. Yet here, the main vocalist is dragging you to his room for a quickie, even though it never is quick with Jungkook.   

"I'm not skipping practice; I'm just going to show up a little late," he shrugs. "Plus, I have over ten years in this career. I think I have earned that."

"I just don't want everyone to blame me for being here and having you run off," your bottom lip juts out in a pout.

You reach in front of the door to his room; he lets go of your hand to unlock it before turning around to face you. Jungkook steps forward to close the distance, his thumb gliding over your lip.

"No one is going to blame you. So put this back in your mouth." His tone is soft, his lips barely brushing against yours.

You comply, but a frown stays as you look up at him through your lashes. He grins at you and cups your face to give you a peck on the lips before reaching for one of your hands and taking it in his as he opens the door and walks in backwards, pulling you in with him.  

"And I don't think anyone would blame me for sneaking off with my girl if they had one as beautiful as mine."

"I didn't come along with you to keep you away from your work, Kook," you smile gently.

Jungkook closes the door and then closes the distance between you again, his arms slipping around your waist.

"I know it's my fault for having no self-control when it comes to you, baby," he winks.  

You playfully smack a hand against his chest with a giggle while he presses his forehead to yours.

"Now," Jungkook says, his voice low, "will you stop worrying and just let me love you?"

You bite your lip and nod, and he moves his hands to your hips, pinning you against the wall near the hotel room door.

He grabs hold of your neck and brings his mouth to it. Your chest against his chest, he presses his lips to your skin; as your fingers tangle in his hair, it becomes tousled almost immediately.

"Bringing you along with me was the best decision I could have made," he mutters between gentle kisses with his pillowy lips. His soft touch gets you riled up enough to drive you insane. Then the damn tease adds, "I get to perform on stage for thousands of people and then return to my room to perform for my girl."

"You are such an idiot, Kook," you laugh airily. "I'm an idiot, too, for forgetting how insatiable you are."

His voice falls quiet when he contests, “How could I not be when you are so irresistible?”

His lips meet yours; the kiss is slow and sensual, with tongue and teeth soon joining in, becoming sloppy and intense. Jungkook presses a knee against the wall, settling it between your legs to pry them apart and keep them that way.

He lifts up your skirt, grazing your thigh and trailing along the hem of your panties. His fingers skim along your pelvis until he slips under your panties, into the familiar warmth, finding your clit. He circles it gently, and you sigh at the contact. Then, his touch disappears, only for him to lick his thumb and resume his actions. He swipes your clit in a back-and-forth motion while diving back in for a heated kiss.

When his fingers travel down to tease the entrance, your eyes roll back, and your knees buckle. You moan when he parts your folds, pushing in only the tip of his middle finger.

"So wet already, baby?" he whispers before he shoves the entire finger into you, moving it in and out at an agonizingly slow pace.

You know Jungkook likes to drag things out, a tease by nature, and usually, you love it; however, he does not have time for that right now, so you take action to help move things along quicker and cup his erection, already hard beneath his track pants.    

He releases a breathy chuckle, catching on—“Are you rushing me?”

"You said this would be a quickie on our way up here, did you not?"

"That I did."

And with that, he pulls his pants and boxers down far enough to free his cock. You take him in your hand; he is big in your grip, thick and veiny. You pump him to get him hard quicker, but he is already fully erect in your grasp.

He groans and pulls back, dropping to his knees; he uses his inked hand to lift your leg, positioning it on top of his shoulder. Your breathing quickens, knowing what he is about to do as he kneels, his head disappearing under your skirt and between your thighs. Jungkook is truly not wasting time because he pushes your panties aside, and his mouth connects to your core instantly. He slides two fingers into you effortlessly, curling his digits. His fingers are so deep and relentless, matched by the slow and precise movements of his damn tongue.

It doesn’t take him long to increase his speed as he pulls you closer by your thighs and plunges his tongue deep inside you. You moan, and your hands grip his hair as your back arches off the wall.  

You stumble slightly, lost in the pleasure, and Jungkook notices, instantly reacting; his head emerges, placing your foot back on the ground as your panties slip back into place, and your skirt settles on your thighs again.

"As much as I want to take my time with you, we have got to move fast; get your cute ass on the bed, baby," he says, patting your ass and kissing your hair. However, his remarks contradict the gentle gesture as he continues, "We can always continue tonight, and I will make it up to you."   

You let out a gasp as a shiver moves through your body; his words empty your mind and stimulate every nerve in you. Yet you remain steady as he pursues your lips on the path to his bedroom. Jungkook uses his foot to push the door closed before you both stumble toward his bed, removing your clothes along the way.

You lie with his body hovering over yours, his hands returning to explore your skin, and his gaze trailing up and down as if he is seeing you for the first time tonight. You push his hair back as he aligns himself with your entrance, and then he sits up properly, beginning a sensual movement of sliding the head of his length up and down your pussy, thickness rubbing against your folds. You are so wet that he almost slips in when his tip reaches your hole. After a moment, he hovers over you again, one forearm by your head to brace himself as he pushes the head in.

He uses the proximity to kiss you again, whimpering into the kiss as you grip his shoulders for support. He parts from you, his forehead resting against yours.

"I am so fucking grateful to have you, baby. Not just on tour with me, but in my life," he whispers.

Does he not realize what he means to you? So you tell him.

Your hands hold his jaw, and you gaze deeply into his eyes, your lips brushing against each other.

"You are everything to me, Kook. I am so grateful to spend my life with you, and I could not be more proud to be by your side and watch you live your dream."

A hand settles under your knee, lifting one leg over his waist, starting to move. You moan as you pull him in, and he nuzzles your neck while he makes love to you tenderly. He gently leans forward, his arms going under yours to hold onto your shoulders, and then he pounds into you, causing the entire bed to shake.

Your voice trembles as you moan out his name, matching how your thighs quiver when he thrusts in with all his strength and as deep as physically possible while your eyes shut so tightly. His moans sound wild as his long locks hang and tickle your skin, damp with sweat, much like his forehead. Your hands glide over his smooth back again, now hot and covered in sweat.

The intense passion takes over both of you.  

"I love you," his declaration is muffled but becomes more distinct when he pulls back to look at you, expression moonstruck as he repeats, "I love you so much, Y/N."

“I love you, Jungkook.”

The exchange of intimate words between you encourages him to slow down as he gazes at you fondly. You push back his sweat-soaked hair from his eyes, which flit from your lips to your nose and then to your eyes as he caresses your cheek, crashing his lips against yours again.  

You feel the pleasure beginning to take over your body; you squeeze tightly around him.  

“I’m going to come, Kook.”

“Come with me, fuck–,” he groans as your nails drag over him. “Come for me, baby.” 

Your walls begin to flutter, pulsing repeatedly, and you can feel his cock twitching as you milk his orgasm out with yours. Affected by your clenching, he moans against your cheek, closing his eyes before you feel him empty his release into you; you shudder as he fills you up.

You remain like that for a minute, chests heaving and hearts racing. Your eyes flutter open, and you peer down to see how Jungkook is recovering, still pressed against your chest. You caress his hair, gently scratching his scalp as your body calms.

You’re still breathing hard when he falls back against the mattress next to you, his softening cock slipping out of you as he moves. You lie like that for a minute, your heart slamming in your chest, eyes dropping shut as you attempt to recover. His cum is starting to leak out of you and stain the sheets beneath you, but you can’t find a fuck to give about it right now.

You eventually feel the bed shift as Jungkook rolls over, pulling you close to him with a soft grunt. He gently kisses the crown of your head, and you can feel him smile a bit before he speaks with a cheeky grin.

“Now, I am ready for practice.”

Jungkook walks into the banquet hall with flushed cheeks and messy hair. A spring in his step as he approaches the table at the side of the room to retrieve his mic and in-ears.

The members are taking a water break when they notice the youngest's arrival and take in his appearance.  

"Look who decided to grace us with his presence," Taehyung remarks.  

"Done getting your dick wet and came to join us?" Jimin adds.

"For now, yeah," Jungkook smirks, "Why, jealous?"

Seokjin and Yoongi let out a snicker at the quip.

"Gross."

"Ew."

Taehyung and Hoseok exclaim simultaneously, both grimacing, while Namjoon stands there with a mortified look.  

"No, annoyed," Jimin continues, "You're supposed to be here hitting high notes, not making your girlfriend."

"I'm only thirty minutes late; I haven't missed much."

Jimin opens his mouth to respond, but Namjoon's voice cuts him off.

"At least he's here now; let's just move on, now that we have everyone here," the leader concludes before the situation escalates further.

The seven guys come together in the middle of the floor, getting into formation. Namjoon signals for the music to begin, and Jungkook comments before the track starts playing,

"My body is all loosened up anyway now, so just think of it as a warm-up."

[pomefioredove]

Omg hiii! I saw that your requests were open again! Please take your time and prioritize your rest, and as always your writing is such a delight to read! I always look forward to your posts! 💖💖💖

That being said, can you please write for a Yuu/reader that has a love for painting (but is shy about showcasing their skill) , and was absolutely taken by Vil's beauty even before they met him? Of course they didn't know that he was a famous actor at first. What if Vil one day finds their sketches and paintings of him after months of knowing him? (hmm preferably after the events of book 6..? 👀)

SO CUTE!!! kicking my legs back and forth at this anonnn

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ the picture of vil schoenheit

type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

How were you supposed to know?

It's not like Crowley had given you a guide on Night Raven College or its students (though, wouldn't that have been nice?)

I mean, you had to reminded of Trey's last name not two weeks ago. How were you supposed to know who Vil Schoenheit is?

You'd only seem him at a distance. Passed him by in the halls while he scolded some poor first year. He even looked beautiful when he was angry.

He was just made to be painted.

You didn't show your friends the art. You didn't need to give Ace another reason to tease you, and being a stalker would've really been the cherry on top of your weirdness sundae.

Besides, it was just drawing. Practice! Sketches from a distance, doodles done in the margins of your notes, watercolors and paintings from memory...

It felt familiar. This man, this stranger, someone you hadn't even spoken to, made you feel a little closer to home.

.

"Really, you should have some sort of organizational system,"

Vil leafs through pages of alchemy reports and history of magic homework. "Might I suggest a recycling bin?"

You smile. It's not often that your friend- Vil Schoenheit, that is- has a day off. But today is Saturday, and your room is in desperate need of his touch.

"This is... chaotic," he says, brushing a clump of Grim fur off his shoulder. "And you live like this?"

You shrug. "I try,"

"Well, try no more. We'll have this done before dinner,"

His commitment is touching. Millions of screeching fangirls would give anything just to spend five minutes with Vil, and here he is, tidying your room for you.

It's almost cute. He's humming to himself, hair tied back in a ponytail, in one of your shirts (his are too nice to get dirty), sweeping Grim fur out from under your bed.

"Rook and Epel couldn't make it?" you ask, pretending not to care that it's just the two of you.

"I told them not to bother,"

"Oh?"

Vil tsks. "They would get in the way. We're much more efficient on our own- we work well together, after all,"

That's something he'd said before. You'd always wondered what it meant.

"Right,"

You switch places, going to strip your bed of its sheets for washing while Vil tidies your desk.

Off go the pillow cases, the comforter, the blankets. You're wrestling with your mattress when you notice that he hasn't moved in a while.

He's looking through some of the papers from within the bowels of your desk, smiling to himself, a finger held to his perfect lips.

"What?"

"Hm?" he hums, but he doesn't look at you. "Oh, just... admiring your work. You have quite an eye for detail, have I ever told you that?"

He's being weird. You let go of your bundle of bedding and look at what he's holding, but it's just your sketchbook.

Oh. Oh, no. It's your sketchbook.

"OH! Um, wait-" you say, rushing to his side. "Don't- don't look!"

Vil smirks, and he holds the art over your head. "How unfair. The muse should always be the first to see, you know,"

Damn his height and perfect, slender arms!!! Your eyes widen. "It's not what it looks like! I didn't know you when I did those!"

"Yes, I saw the dates. You could make a career out of admiring me, you know~" he chuckles. "I'd pay for these. I'm sure Rook would like a few, as well."

You're practically melting with embarrassment. "Come on- give it back!"

Seeing your pathetic, embarrassed whining, Vil relents, handing you the sketchbook with an eye-roll.

"What are you ashamed of? They're fine pieces,"

"It's not that," you clutch the book to your chest. "It's just- uh- weird, isn't it?"

Vil scoffs. "I'm weird?"

"NO! I meant- I didn't even know you, and I drew you almost every day- that isn't... strange?"

He takes a moment to study you, your body language, the embarrassed look on your face. From head to toe. And then he smiles, warmly.

"I am in a dorm with Rook. There are very, very few things that I find strange now. You admire me- I'm flattered,"

He gingerly takes sketchbook out of your arms and opens it again. "Not to mention, you have an artistic eye that any director would kill for."

You stand there, a little dumbfounded, but mostly very, very grateful that he's your friend, and that you can laugh about this together.

"I'm... well... thank you," you finally say.

Vil smirks, and pinches your cheek. "You're precious. Now, back to work. I want this room over with. These paintings won't frame themselves, will they?"

[sytoran]

⋆⭒˚｡★ ❝MILE HIGH CLUB❞ ★ n.romanoff !

pairing ★ sub!natasha romanoff x fem!avenger!reader

synopsis ★ on a plane ride to dubai for a romantic getaway, natasha takes matters into her own hands, and your cock into her own mouth. (oops?)

warnings ★ explicit content (minors dni), pwp, semi-public sex, jealous natasha is scarily hot, you are not the lord's strongest soldier, you have a cock, you almost get caught (kind of)

word count ★ 2.6k (IM BACKKK!!!! ...for now)

With Thor, Valkyrie and Carol back on Earth for about two weeks or so, you and Natasha were relieved of your Avenger duties. And what better way to spend the restful break than going on a romantic getaway to Dubai with the love of your life?

On the eighth of the eleven-hour flight, you were perfectly content to lounge in the luxuries of first-class, courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D. But it seems that for the Avenger who was constantly on her feet, Natasha didn't deal well with ennui.

“I’m bored, Y/N.”

Unbeknownst to your girlfriend’s hidden agenda, you paid little mind to Natasha’s statement, continuing to watch the subpar rom-com playing on the aeroplane screen in blissful ignorance.

“Sorry, baby, I know it’s a long flight. You wanna watch this movie with me?”

Natasha lets out an aggravated huff. Because of course you didn’t know the effect you had on her. As much as the whole Avenger getup was as bold as it was impressive, this laid-back version of you really showcased the underlying details that marked her attraction to you.

Thin-rimmed reading glasses sat atop your nose, stray hairs framing the delicacy of your sharp cheekbones and marble-cutting jawline. With a tight-fitting black turtleneck that strained under the bulkiness of your sinful biceps, cut from the finest vibranium, and loosely-hung grey sweatpants that finished off the whole look — Natasha was just about ready to start sucking you off.

That passing thought had just been one of amusement, rhetorical and hyperbolic, seemingly impossible but altogether funny. But then Natasha takes a few steps back, figuratively, and considers it again — and a smile likened to a scheming devil crawls upon her face.

Well, Widows always got what they wanted, didn’t they?

“Y/N,” Natasha purrs, intently pressing into your side.

“Mhm?” you hum, reaching out a hand to entwine it with hers. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You still bored?”

Your reaction was simply so innocent and angelic that Natasha almost felt bad for the devil-spawned arbitrary ploy she was about to enact.

Suddenly surging forward, Natasha lifts up the armrest that separates your seats, closing the distance between her and a trip down to hell, and lets a hand cup the mouth-watering bulge in your grey sweatpants.

“I said I’m bored, Daddy,” she whispers into your ear. “Mommy wants to play.”

The loud half-splutter, half-cough that resounds around the enclosed space around the two of you within the aeroplane is immaculate.

You choke on inhaled air, looking around at the other passengers with disbelief and anxiety, as if you had been scandalised.

And maybe you had been. Shifting in your seat uncomfortably, you desperately try to look away from the tantalising cleavage shoved in front of your sinning eyes.

Natasha’s low-cut top had you fighting every calvary in your mental war, and you struggle to regain a semblance of composure.

“But, uhm, Daddy wants to remind Mommy that we’re surrounded by complete strangers,” You whisper urgently, a handsome flush overtaking your features. “And that we are very well-known Avengers across the globe, so if we were to get caught we would end up on every news headline for the next month. And if it reaches Fury, well, we’d be in shit ton of trouble.”

Your state of arousal is unhelpfully heightened further when you notice that Natasha is eyeing your growing erection like a hawk, front teeth sinking into her ruby-red lip, ready to take strike and devour its prey.

“Oh darling, you know I’m a whore for attention,” Natasha replies loftily, and the silky-smooth way that the word ‘whore’ rolls off her tongue triggers a jolt of arousal straight to the tent in your sweatpants.

When Natasha begins caressing the hefty bulge in between your legs, a low groan emits from the depths of your throat and it melts in Natasha’s lower belly in the form of molten arousal.

“Natasha, as much as I want to rail you senseless in this very second—”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t think that this is a good idea—”

“Stop thinking, then,” Natasha responds as if it’s the most simple answer in all of the galaxy, and before you can come up with another futile reason to deter her girlfriend’s libido, Natasha launches into action.

In a fraction of a second that could have rivalled Spiderman’s speed, Natasha unbuckles her seatbelt and sinks to her knees in front of your seat. Another upside of first-class was the spacious legroom which Natasha fully utilised. Ducking under your blanket, she drapes it over her hunched figure and tucks herself neatly between your legs.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, fumbling to unbuckle your own seatbelt and letting Natasha slide down your sweatpants. Social decency be damned, for when Natasha Romanoff presented herself to you, ripe for the taking, no one simply denied themself of that glorious heaven.

Deft fingers tug down black Calvin Klein boxers, and a huge, hardened cock springs out of its confinement. You exhale shakily as a hand wraps around the base, and a feather-light finger trails over its girthy length.

“I’m not surviving this, am I?” You mutter underneath your breath, leaning back into the seat. In response, Natasha gives kitten licks to the pre-cum emerging at your heady tip, so saintly and sinful all the same.

Guiding the head of your cock to a hot mouth, Natasha leisurely wraps her lips around the shaft. Your iron-hard grip on the armrest was almost completely useless in the face of regaining normalcy, not when the feeling of velvet lips set alight every nerve on her body.

“Fuck,” you curse breathlessly, your face contorting into one of pleasure. Darkened eyes fixate unto the blanket Natasha was hidden under, and your wandering mind fuels an image of your girlfriend’s hollowed cheeks and pliant mouth, to which you almost fall apart there and then.

Dirty, scandalous and filthy was being able to feel Natasha’s tongue swirl around your cock without seeing it happen. Your lack of sight heightened the sensitivity of your other senses by tenfold, and you had to physically restrain herself from bucking your hips forward.

Without warning, Natasha tilts her head up, ruffling the blankets, and then engulfs your cock in the threshold of her throat.

“Oh, Thanos' head on a fucking stick—”

“Excuse me ma’am, what can I get for you today?”

Your eyes fly open in a nanosecond, head jerking to the source of distraction. There in the aisle stood an air stewardess with a push-cart and a smile just a little too wide.

“Uh, uhm, just a water would be fine,” you choke out, attempting to exhale steadily as if you hadn’t been about to combust in your girlfriend's mouth just a few seconds ago.

“Right away, ma’am,” The stewardess answers. “You getting hot and bothered from the show?” She asks harmlessly, a smirk tugging up on her face.

You take a moment to understand the jest. Before you the shitty rom-com is still playing, except now there's a badly orchestrated sex scene playing, where the male actor is trying too hard to act as if he’s doing any good. It doesn’t do you any good that your face is flushed and evidently flustered, but for different yet similar reasons.

A false laugh escapes your lips, in hopes of driving the woman away. “What! No, no way. I’m all good here.”

You swear you can smell the jealousy radiating off from Natasha in leaps and bounds, and you decide it is best to end the conversation before Natasha fuses and convulses simultaneously.

God forbid Natasha decides to start deepthroating your cock at that exact moment.

You let out a ragged groan in front of the stewardess, as a hot mouth engulfs your cock in quick succession, sucking back and forth with an esteemed fervour.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” The lady asks, leaning closer, reaching out a hand to pat the side of your face.

You lean back, rapidly attempting to steady your breathing, and failing miserably. Natasha’s bobbing her head up and down with energised vigour, determined in her mission.

“Y-yeah, it’s really alright. Th-thanks, again.”

Just as you thought all was done and dusted, the air stewardess looks around cautiously. She leans closer to you with batted eyelashes and a supposedly seductive wink.

Then, in a low and sultry voice that seals your fate, the woman says, “Let me know if you need anything special, handsome.” You choke back a moan as Natasha twists her head, her talented tongue doing wonders to her cock.

The lady can’t get out of your sight any slower.

The moment the air stewardess disappears into the confines of the next cabin, footsteps fading away, Natasha's head whips out of the blanket, furrowed brows and an aggravated expression taking you by storm.

“‘Let me know if you need anything special, handsome!?’ Who does that whore think she is? Baby, do note that it’s taking me very large amounts of self-restraint not to get up right now and slap her silly. I can’t believe that an air stewardess would hit on anyone so openly like that, much less you! God, Y/N, I—”

Natasha’s stream of enjambments decrescendos into a meek silence at the look on your face.

Evanescent was the abrupt change in your demeanour, as if a switch had been flicked, as if the rest of the world had faded away, and it was just the two of them left.

Natasha’s cheeks flush so prettily, so quickly, because that look on your face only meant one thing.

A set jaw, glinting in the light — cut marble sculpted from the finest hands. Eyes that descend into such deep hues that Natasha feels like she’s drowning like the Titanic, downwards towards the depths of hell.

“Less talking, baby, more sucking.”

A rough hand finds Natasha’s head under the blanket and her hair is tugged on forcefully, jerking it forward to engulf the entirety of your cock. Natasha is more than happy to comply.

Natasha’s pretty gag is lost in the sound of the ongoing turbulence, and you grunt and drag those velvet walls down the length of your cock again. If Natasha decided to act like a brat, you could sure as hell treat her like one.

Up and down, up and down, and the way you manhandle Natasha to deepthroat a solid eight inches should be considered an Avengers-level threat. If you close your eyes, you can almost see the tears welling up in Natasha’s eyes, her pretty lips wrapped around your cock, strands of hair clinging to beads of sweat that adorn her face.

You're not too sure if the wet and squelching noises you hear are from Natasha's slick throat or a figment of your ever-rampant imagination. Either way, the contracting waves of Natasha’s throat around your cock is downright sinful, pretty and easy and oh so pliant.

From base to tip and tip to base, a preordained promise of paradise hangs in the atmosphere, and with each passing stroke, you barrel towards that high. You thrust hard into Natasha's throat, stretching it out, filling it up.

You lose yourself in the wet heat of Natasha’s mouth, your cock being stimulated in such heavenly eloquence of Natasha’s tongue. As an Avenger, you've fought a thousand battles, but none of them have ever quite left you as breathless as this one.

You're awfully close.

In the haze of being used like a mindless fucktoy, Natasha’s hand slips up the expanse of your clenched thigh muscle, and proceeds to toy with the heavy sack of balls. You groan, gripping Natasha’s hair tighter, tugging her downwards.

You're really, really close.

Your ears prick up as a sound emits from under the blanket, and your keen hearing picks up a whiny moan that sounds an awful lot like “Daddy, please”.

Oh, fuck.

Natasha’s helpless plea is what causes you to tumble over the edge of precipice, waves crashing and planets colliding as your vision becomes pure, unadulterated, white heat. “Fuck,” you grunt, a dragged-out groan from your chest, a ringing emblem of castle walls that crumble down.

Streaks and streaks of milky, white fluid are released into the depths of Natasha’s throat, coating her velvet walls, thick and creamy as it splatters against pink walls. Contented moans resound from Natasha, as she continues to suck on your extensive cock like it’s her last lifeline, like she might as well perish without it.

For a brief moment, you question your existence in the universe, and how remarkably infinitesimal you feel, hanging kilometres above the wide open sea and nothing else.

Be it land or sea or stars, though, you think you've found your muse, your reason for staying.

“Natasha,” you breathe out, like a sacred prayer, like a haunted blessing, as pleasure overrides your system.

You don’t recall quite how long you stay in that exact position, a hand cupping the back of Natasha’s head, rocking gently thorugh the aftershocks, Natasha’s palm resting on the side of your thigh.

Sentience gradually floats back into your capability, and you slowly blink as you arise from your out-of-body experience. “Well, shit,” you mumble, the aeroplane filtering into view, the snores from sleeping passengers around you becoming audible again.

Once the coast was deemed clear, you lift up the blanket covering your lap, but it turns out to be a dreadful decision as the sight of Natasha almost causes you to roll back into another orgasm.

Natasha’s previously neat hair was now a complete mess, sticking to her mouth and the sides of her face in the heat of sweat and slick. What used to be perfect, unblemished eyeshadow was now a runny mess due to Natasha’s tears, and a nude shade of bottle-red lipstick was smeared across her mouth and your semi-erect cock.

Lowered lashes shielded a smokey gaze, nearly all black, and you can feel herself hardening again, like you hadn’t just received a filthy blowjob that would make the heavens blush.

Immediately, that image of Natasha Romanoff was imprinted into her mind for an eternity to come, saved for future purposes.

By some saintly miracle, none of the passengers surrounding had awoken, and Natasha successfully crawls back into her seat with an all-too-smug smile.

“How was it?” She asks innocently, batting those lashes with a seductive head-tilt.

“I don’t know, maybe you should’ve moaned ‘Please, Daddy,’ just a little louder,” you retort quickly, no bite behind your words, delighting in the pink flush that adorns your girlfriend’s cheeks.

On about the ninth hour of the flight, approximately one hour after Natasha drew out an earth-shattering orgasm from your megalithic shaft, you effectively draws closer to Natasha, with crossed arms that unhelpfully accentuate the bulge of your biceps.

“Let me rail you in the toilet?”

“Y/N L/N, I am not sitting my bare ass on that filthy bathroom counter. I don't wish to end up with an STI."

“Who says I need to a counter to fuck you, hm?”

──── ☆ ⋅ ★ ⋅ ☆ ────

After three splendid orgasms, more abundant wails of ‘Daddy, please’ emitting from the toilet, and that same, very embarrassed flight stewardess politely requesting for them to get the fuck out, you and Natasha land in Dubai, officially kickstarting your romantic getaway with a bang.

Literally, quite a bang.

haven't written something new in forever, hopefully this is enough to satiate you gremlins' desires... (but forreal tho, thanks for sticking around) reblog or i'll hunt you down and NOT post for 12493482 years

main m.list

[readwritealldayallnight]

“-was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favourite sh- are you sure you want to listen to this, Si?” You giggled, shutting your book in favour of leaning your cheek against your forearm, tilting your head back far enough to catch Simon’s eye behind you. “I could always read whatever you’ve started, wouldn’t bother me.”

“Not the deal, lovie.” He answers, scooching further up the bed to where you’re laying on your stomach, head just as the edge of the bed so that your arms can comfortably hold the book at eye level. “S’your turn after all. You read me whatever you like.”

It’s true, it is your turn tonight. You forget how long ago this started, though you remember how the idea came about, Simon complaining about his back one evening while the two of you were laying on the couch together, each reading a book, quietly enjoying the others company. He was home for only a few days that time, and you’d insisted that he spend at least a full 24 hours doing nothing but resting and relaxing, a feat easier said than done with that man.

“Why don’t you let me rub your back?” You’d suggested, setting your book down.

“No love, you don’t have to be doin’ that,” he’d shaken his head, though you could see he was doing so reluctantly. His back really was hurting him something fierce. “Besides, I’m at the good part. Don’ wanna put this down just yet.” He’d gestured towards the thick novel in his hands, some war book, of course. His idea of relaxing.

“Oh come on,” you’d insisted, wanting to do this for him. You had tugged the blanket off your lap, coming to stand next to the couch, watching him raise a brow at you. “I can totally massage your back while you read, best of both worlds. Go on, flip over on your stomach.”

“Usually I’m the one tellin’ you tha- hey!” He had obliged you, turning over onto until he’s laying on his front, trying to hid the wince of discomfort that came with the movement. You’d swatted at his ass following his little comment, but your soft hands were already coming to slip under his shirt, skimming along both smooth and scarred skin alike. “But you were enjoyin’ your book too, love.” He tried to protest again, though his eyes were already rolling to the back of his head at the feeling of your touch, loving fingers squeezing at his strong, sore muscles.

“Why don’t you read out loud to me?” You’d suggested to him.

“Not sick o’ my voice yet?”

“Mm, never.” You came to straddle his behind, planting a knee on either side of him, leaning closer to whisper to him. “Favourite sound in the world actually.”

Simon was grateful you couldn’t see his face at this moment, as he was certain he’d gone beet red.

“Well, you let me know when you change your mind.” He grumbled, opening his book back up, clearing his throat and picking up where’d last left off. Three chapters later, your barely noticed how sore your hands were in comparison to how full your heart was, listening to Simon’s voice go from begrudgingly reading the passages to you, his tone slowly gaining enthusiasm as he became lost in the story once more, smiling to himself whenever he’d hear a small noise come from you in reaction to his reading, a gasp of surprise of a hum of agreement.

He’d gone to bed that night and slept better than he had in a long time, back feeling like a dream, and woke up the next day, asking if he could return the favour. Soon, the evening pass time of one of you massaging the other’s back while they read aloud whatever book they’re currently reading, became one of your favourite, most cherished memories with Simon, the tender moment so pure, knowing he looked forward to these small moments as much as you did.

The two of you had gone through so many genres in the last few months, you’d lost track, every type of book being brought off the shelf. Though you didn’t always share the same tastes in books, you could still enjoy the sound of your lover reading something that they love to you. Simon was always a good sport about your picks in particular, but tonight you couldn’t help but question whether he really would want to sit through your pick of the week.

“I’m not even sure if it would be better or worse to have you watch the movie first.” You say, your words nearly coming out in a moan at the end when his strong hands reach a tender spot in your back.

“Jus’ read me the book, cheeky girl, before I try an’ get more o’ them noises out o’ ya.” He decides for you, giving your ass a quick squeeze before returning to his diligent task of rubbing your back.

You decide you’ll listen to the Lieutenant this one time, opening up your book and starting again.

Who knows, maybe Simon will like vampires.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Christmas Bells

Pairing: Dark Katsuki Bakugo x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: It’s your first Christmas with Bakugo and he makes sure it’s memorable. 

WARNINGS: Kidnapped reader; Implied Noncon/Abuse; Minor violence. 

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback 😊 Merry Christmas!

--

There’s a knock on the bathroom door, your name being called less than a moment later. 

“One minute!”

Suffocating back the sobs that insist on freeing themselves, your fingers desperately reach to wipe away the warm, sad tears that refuse to stop. You sniff, grabbing a nearby towel to wipe the gross snot that clings to your nose. 

Looking in the mirror for a quick check turns out to be a mistake. Deep under eyes circles, runny nose, red puffy eyes - you look awful.

Even more when you compare your ugly crying face with the red and yellow soft cotton Christmas pajamas you’ve been coerced into wearing, the one Bakugo is matching.  

Couple pajamas, he had grumbled when giving you the box. Because it’s your first ever Christmas together and he wants it to be memorable. Special. 

Special for him yet a nightmare for you. 

The last couple days have been hell. Bakugo’s been unbearable to deal with, having taken a week off of the hero duty just so he can spend quality time with you. You fervently wish he hadn’t.

Every moment spent by his side makes you uneasy and anxious, constantly walking on egg-shells as you await for the bomb that Bakugo is to set off.

Truth be told, you don’t want to spend time with him. You simply want nothing to do with him. He has a special way to become abhorrently overwhelming. 

Forced to play house with a delusional Pro-Hero isn’t what you want. 

You don’t want to wake bunched up in the suffocating embrace of his arms as his thick cock forces itself inside you.

You don’t want to set up the Christmas tree with him, pretending to care every time he asks you where do you want each fucking shiny ornament to be.

You don’t want him to kiss you like you’re his everything - like you’re a happy loving couple that has just assembled their first Christmas tree together.

You don’t want to play the role of a diligent girlfriend that peels off vegetables, sets up the dining table and washes the dishes and yet you do all of these tasks, knowing otherwise you’ll receive nothing but a nasty backhand and a speech on being a ungrateful brat, something that will sour both of your moods for the rest of the day. 

You don’t want to-

There’s a harder knock on the door. 

“Hey, you died in there or what?” 

Tilting your face up, your eyes lock into the ceiling at the same time as you take in a deep breath that does little to calm your nerves. You’re so tired, so fucking exhausted. Can’t even spend five fucking minutes without the asshole hunting you down. 

Knowing you have less than 60 seconds till Bakugo gets angry or worried enough to break down the bathroom door, something you’d like to avoid given it’s the only door in the apartment that has a lock, you reluctantly drag your feet to the door. 

Bakugo pushes the door forward as soon as you turn the lock open, entering the bathroom as he takes a good look at you, fixing his glare at your red eyes, still moist from your latest crying session. 

“What took you so damn long?” his question resembles an accusation, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dart around the bathroom, looking for whatever proof of an imaginary escape plan or so. 

“Nothing, was just washing my hands.” you lie, offering a placating smile. Bakugo nods, although distrust is still evident in his face but if there’s one thing you’ve learned is that suspicion is like a second nature to him.

Perhaps you deserve it but now, after almost 7 months after your last failed escape attempt, you’d think you’d been able to earn some trust. 

“C’mon, let’s go.” 

His hand reaches for yours, hot and firm as he always is, and you follow his lead as he takes you back to the living room. Confusion rattles your mind and you look up at Bakugo as he makes you settle on the couch by his side. 

“Hum…” you hesitate, lips parting as the blonde man lays his heavy arm across your shoulders, pulling you closer to him, “...I thought-” 

“Huh?” he doesn’t bother looking at you, busy fumbling with the TV’s remote control. He skips movie after movie till he finally settles at one of the Home Alone movies. A Christmas classic, you think. 

“I mean, isn’t it past bedtime?” A glance towards the digital watch on the wall reveals it’s  five minutes till bedtime. Surprising and shocking at the same time, as never once did he let you - or him - to stay up till this late. “I thought the curfew was nine thirty?” 

“Will you shut up and just watch the damn movie?” he snaps. You seal your lips tight after that, face immediately whipped to the front to stare at the cinematic 34-foot TV although you pay little attention to it. 

Awkward silence reigns as you watch the movie.

Nostalgia hits you hard as the movie carries on, your mind wandering through old dusty memories. You as a child, watching this exact movie curled in between your parents, laughing your ass off at the on-screen shenanigans. Simpler and happier times.

A dull pain stabs your heart at the thought of your family. How are they coping with the fact that their daughter went missing so many months ago, not even a single clue to her case. 

A part of you wonders how Christmas is going to be celebrated back in your home country, if your mom is planning to leave a sock for you in the fireplace, as she always has or if your dad is finally gonna buy that gift you had not to subtly begged for Christmas all those months ago…

Your nails dig deep into the back of your hand, a microscopic attempt to keep the tears from spilling as your eyes begin to burn. You can’t fucking cry - you reprimand yourself - if you cry, Bakugo is gonna be upset. If Bakugo gets upset, then you’ll have to deal with the consequences. And you don’t want that. 

“It’s Christmas.” his deep voice breaks out the silence, so random and unexpected you’re not even sure he said anything. He keeps his face straight forward, locked into the screen, even as you’re under the impression that he’s paying as much attention to the movie as you are. 

Bakugo sighs, finally looking at you and you don’t like how his red eyes pierce right through you, leaving you helpless and naked under his gaze. Like he can read every single emotion that boils inside you.

“It’s Christmas.” he repeats, voice softening. “First Christmas together, I mean.” 

“Yeah.” you stiffly reply. 

“Besides, we gotta wait till midnight so you can open your gifts.” he adds, pointing a finger towards the lit up Christmas tree, where some packages wrapped in red paper lay by its base.

A side of you feels curious about them, but another part warns you that nothing good ever comes with Bakugo. When did he ever give you something that is free of restrictions? 

“I didn’t get you anything.” 

“Huh?” 

“I don’t have a gift for you.” you explain. 

It’s a silly statement, although evident. You spend all day caged in his heavily-secured apartment with no way of leaving, no matter how much you’ve asked for it, and the few online shopping you’re allowed to do is on Bakugo’s laptop with the blonde man hunched over your shoulder, eagle-eyes following every purchase of yours. 

Bakugo shrugs off his broad shoulders, seemingly unbothered. 

Lacking the strength to further keep up with the pointless conversation you leave it at that. After a few minutes, the film fails to maintain your interest and soon you start drifting into a calm slumber, eyes drowsily slipping closed and barely aware of when Bakugo re-positions you so that your head lays onto the comfortable muscle of his bicep. 

Just a small nap, you sleepily think… 

“Hey, wake the hell up.” 

There’s an annoying tug at your arm. 

“Wake up, it’s time.” 

“Hm?”

Opening your eyes proves to be a difficult task with your eyelids awfully heavy. You yawn, sleep coating your features. 

Bakugo is no longer sitting by your side, but is bent in front of you, occupying all of your vision field. 

“It’s Christmas, already.” 

That certainly catches your attention, hands pushing against the couch to leverage you into a standing position. 

“Oh.” 

The clock marks exactly midnight and you stare at it, empty-minded. For a moment, you believe none of this is real, that you’ve imagined everything.

Any moment now, your family is going to start cheering and hugging you, felicitations and merry christmas’s being thrown around while everyone exchanges their gifts. 

Instead, reality hits you like a brick thrown to your face in the form of Bakugo’s squeezing hug, your face being pressed against his toned chest. 

“C’mon, let’s open your gifts.” he drags you to the tree, sitting on the wooden floor with his legs crossed as he pulls you into his lap, heavy arms immediately caging you in. 

“Start with that one.” Bakugo nudges a box with a rectangular shape to your way. 

It’s a bit heavy but as soon as your fingers reach for it, you immediately figure out it’s a book. 

As you unwrap the paper from the book, Bakugo squirms and pushes you a bit backwards, so your back meets his brawny chest.  

The cover of the book shows him - well, Dynamight portrayed in a comic artstyle.

“Dynamight’s Explosive Adventures” 

“It’s a comic book. Part of the new merch.” he slowly says. "Hasn't been released yet, and I warned the jerk editor that it can’t be published until my girl gives it her approval.”

You are surprised to learn how much Bakugo cared about your approval and opinion. A pleasant surprise and warmth rises to your cheeks. 

“That’s… really sweet.” you comment as Bakugo gives your neck a small peck. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” he brushes it off, “Just make sure to read that quickly.”

“Okay.” you almost sing the word out. You hesitate for a moment. “Thanks.”

The atmosphere feels strangely lighter, happier. It’s silly to feel like this when it’s something so small, so insignificant.

Still, you can’t stop the little smile that tugs the corners of your lips as you open the remaining presents: a shiny golden hand bracelet that Katsuki immediately fastens it down your wrist, a lip oil collection that you vaguely remember being on your wishlist. 

All of them are just nice presents and you wonder if you were being a bit too dramatic about it earlier. 

Reaching for the last one, Bakugo practically throws the small box into your hands, his chin resting heavily on your shoulder, his breathing obnoxiously heavy in your ears but you don’t dare to complain.

His arms tighten around your waist for a moment and you wonder if he’s nervous about this one. 

You receive your answer soon enough, heart dropping to your stomach as soon as you open the velvet black box, revealing an elegant ring inside.

A diamond encrusted ring band, to be exact. A engagement ring. 

No. 

Oh God, please no.

All of your jovial carefree behavior vanishes into thin air as Bakugo takes the ring out of the box, slipping it onto your annular finger and you wince when he pushes it down with a brutish strength until the overly small ring finally sits at the base of your finger. 

“Mrs. Bakugo Katsuki.” you can practically hear a satisfied grin behind those words.

That's all it takes for the dam that's inside your eyes to burst into miserable pitiful tears. From behind you, Bakugo growls - all traces of relaxation now gone - replaced by anger as he violently tugs your arm behind, forcing your body to face him.  

“No. No fucking tears.” his tone is harsh, and he takes it upon himself to swipe his big thumbs against your cheeks, cleaning up the endless fountain of water that your eyes have become.

Your hands weakly attempt to push him away, never meeting success in putting distance between your bodies as he immediately clutches your wrists. 

“I…Bakugo, I don’t want to-”

His lips capture your wobbling ones into a fervent, boiling kiss. His palm is large enough to cover the back of your head, stopping you from pulling away from the kiss. You’re trapped under his powerful strength, as you always have. You’re so stupid for fooling yourself into something that was never the reality. 

He kisses you with all of his ravenous, destructive passion until you’re nothing more than a limp body, until all signs of pathetic rebellion have left your body but not your mind. Your throat dries when his burning lips move to suck little spots on the sensitive skin of your neck, too many sharp teeth involved.

Your whole body itching to squirm away from him but somehow you manage to stay as immobile as a statue. You can only cry your eyes out. You’re weak, you’re pathetic, you’re-

“You asked ‘bout my gift, right?” his voice booms in your ear and you yelp as Bakugo pushes you down to the floor, crawling on top of you like the dangerous predator he is. His calloused hands already reaching for your pajama pants.

“You can fucking give it to me in nine months.” 

[the-californicationist]

The Window (Ch. 02)

Tw: breeding kink, reverse harem gangbang MDNI

This is a repost sorry I’m trying to fix a broken link situation. Just ignore me.

The waiting was the worst part. You tried not to stare at the pregnancy test strip while it was still loading. A watched pot never boils, or whatever that saying was. You scrolled through your phone, you paced back and forth, and you listened to the murmuring voices on the other side of the door, eagerly awaiting the good news.

But, there wouldn’t be any celebrating. Not this month.

You threw the negative strip in the trash and tried to hold it together. You had been flipping through online baby stores, looking at cribs, watching videos about safety, and reading the towering stack of what-to-expect books that Soap’s mom had bought for you (you still hadn’t forgiven him for telling her, but you sent her a sweet thank-you card). And yet… it felt like it was all for nothing.

You imagined what it must be like for those women who got pregnant if a strong wind blew too hard that day, and you tried to fight the pang of jealousy. Then, you thought about your team. The disappointed look on their faces would be so hard to bear. But, you needed to let them know.

The door handle was cold in your hands as you popped it open and left the bathroom. When you looked up at the group, they were all sat, patiently waiting to hear what you’d come to report. It was quiet at first, and then Kyle raised his hands, an eager expression of joy on his face,

“Well?”

By the sudden, pained look in your eyes, he got his answer. In a flash, you were buried in Simon’s chest, wrapped in his huge arms, hearing him whisper,

“It’s alright, love. Next time.”

You felt Price’s palm on the nape of your neck, and Johnny had grabbed your hand. You fought the tears, overwhelmed by their support.

Simon broke his hug and sat down with you. You told them,

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I just can’t seem to —”

“No, lass. I willnae sit here and listen to you blame yourself,” Johnny protested.

“Agreed,” Simon nodded, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear.

Price sighed, and his men looked up at him for guidance. So, he said,

“We’ll just have to double our efforts. We’re not giving up, love. Don’t you worry.”

A warm hand circled around your shoulders from the other side of the sofa, and you saw Kyle’s face light up with mischief,

“I like the sound of that plan.”

And that’s how you ended up in Price’s quarters, surrounded by all of your soldiers, getting pumped full of their thick come.

Gaz was pounding his length into your body like a machine. The wet schlicking noise your pussy was making for him filled the room, mixing with the dark, deep moans from the others as they watched you take his long shaft.

You were laying on the bed, propped up a bit with your head resting on Price’s huge thigh, watching him fist his fat, uncut rod inches from your face, waiting his turn. He was petting your forehead, telling you what a pretty little girl you were and how much he was looking forward to filling you up to your limit.

Ghost sat on the edge of the bed, jerking himself off languidly, lolling his soft tongue across your nipple, sucking it when he wanted to, leaving pink marks on your skin. Meanwhile, Johnny had situated his mouth right over your clit, not really minding Gaz and his pounding, eating you like he was going to starve to death.

You’d lost count of your orgasms, but you thought you were still in the single digits. Simon’s come was already frothing, packed deep inside of you from his earlier spend, coating your walls and Gaz’s shaft as he worked. The wetness made his cock gleam like a shining popsicle, and you wanted to lick him clean.

It was so erotic, you couldn’t help but cry out,

“Mmffuck! Kyle… please. Oh, my fucking God!”

“Good girl,” he smiled, panting, “You ready for more?”

You nodded your head, turning your cheek toward John, looking for his comfort. You laid your hand on the back of Simon’s head and encouraged him to suck a little harder.

John’s warm hand pet your cheek as he looked down at you,

“Here, love. Need something to suck on? C’mon. It’ll make you feel so full, won’t it.”

He pointed his swollen head down toward your lips and let you suckle from the drooling tip, comforting yourself with his flesh, enjoying his musky taste.

You felt Johnny’s mouth begin to suck at your clit’s rigid body, using his smooth tongue to push it back and forth, making Gaz’s every thrust feel like pure electricity. Your body arched into it, and even though your grunting and screaming were muffled by the captain’s cockhead, you came with a swirling, all-encompassing bliss, letting the glittering sensation rush through your veins like a drug.

“Pretty girl,” John held your cheek gently, feeling it swell with his hardness, “You look so beautiful when you come for us.”

“Fuck,” Gaz sighed, “She’s so bloody tight. I can’t… I’m gonna fuckin’ come.”

The whole room watched as he unloaded his pleasure into you, seeing his face melt with joy, looking at how his cock had stretched its way into you, pulsing now with each drop of his thick come.

“Tha’s it. Legs up for us, bonnie girl. Cannae have Gaz’s work go to waste, hm?” Soap grinned, helping you bend your hips up into position. Then, the moment Kyle stumbled back from you, Johnny eagerly took his place.

He wasn’t just hard, he was throbbing. His cockhead was rosy and pink, pulsating with his blood flow, ready and hungry for its hole. Johnny smiled down at you, his chin shiny and dripping from his meal, covered in you from cheek to cheek. He used his fingers to gently push Gaz’s stray load back inside of you and followed it with his cock.

Johnny wasn’t nearly as long as Gaz, but he was curved just right, arched and girthy, perfect for your already-sensitive g-spot. His feral thrusting had you crying out as you pulled your mouth away from Price, turning to face him in shock. His hands were busy, too. Johnny spread your legs apart by your knees and held them aloft, trying to keep all of the wet, creamy gifts you’d been given deep inside you.

In almost no time at all, he was ready to burst inside of you. Ever since he’d begun, you’d felt like you were riding the high of one long, never-ending orgasm, and you felt your pussy clenching around him, well-used and pliant.

“Holy fuck, lass. You’re so full of us. Gonna be drippin’ outta you all night, I’ll bet.”

“Are you gonna fill me up, Johnny?” You keened, knowing how much he liked it when you teased him.

“Jesus Christ, Sparrow,” Soap’s eyes furrowed, looking lost and then… he found himself. His orgasm raced through his body, bursting from his shaft in long, hot ropes of come, spending himself into you almost violently.

Barely able to breathe, he removed himself from you as gently as he could, wiping the fluids off of his cock and shoving them back into your well-used hole.

“Si,” Price commanded, “Can you hand me the plug?”

“Aye, Captain. Here,” Simon handed him the clean, girthy vaginal plug that the captain had purchased and passed it to him.

Carefully, Price reached down and wet it at your entrance before stuffing it inside of you, sealing his men’s semen inside.

“Wait,” you breathed, trying to get your brain back online, “What about you? It’s your turn.”

You looked up at him, glassy-eyed, and he grinned,

“I think you’ve got enough in there to last you the week, little bird.”

“But…” You tried not to sound selfish, but you couldn’t figure out how to ask for what you wanted.

Simon knew what you were trying to say, and he said it for you,

“She wants you, too, Cap. Full or not.”

“She’s spent, and she needs water and rest. She doesn’t need any more of —”

“Please?” You asked, watching him get up from the bed and move to get dressed, “Please, John.”

He put his shirt back on the chair and mounted you as if he was going to fuck you, pushing himself onto your body like an animal, pinning you down. His voice was a warning,

“Are you askin’ me ‘cause you think that’s wha’ I wanna hear, Spar?”

You shook your head, whispering, reeling from his display of power,

“No, I just… want you.”

Price sighed, running a wide hand down his face and looked over at his men. It seemed like he was asking for help, or permission. You didn’t fully understand, but Ghost did.

Simon stepped into his gym shorts and motioned for Gaz and Soap to follow him,

“Gonna hop in the shower. Still watchin’ MASH later, yeah?” Ghost put his huge hand on your forehead and brushed your hair out of your face.

“Aye,” Price nodded, watching them file out.

Johnny gave you his usual kisses, one on your lips and one on your forehead,

“Makin’ you popcorn, too, bonnie. Extra butter.”

You kissed him back, smiling at the boys as they left you alone with their leader.

You turned to him, waiting for him to decide, giving him a way out,

“Hey, if you don’t want to —”

“No,” he interrupted you, resting his impossibly fat cock on your folds, the head of him reaching past your belly button, “Tha’s not it, love. I want you so bad I can barely look at you. I just don’t wanna hurt you. Gonna be sore tomorrow, soldier,” he joked, trying to take the sincerity out of his voice, rubbing your outer lips with his thumbs, massaging the stretched muscles with care.

“You won’t hurt me,” you reached down and pet his shaft with your fingertips, pressing it into your belly, caressing it with the lightest touch. Against his will, it jerked up towards your hand in response.

He eyed you for a moment before twisting the plug out of you, not as mindful as Soap, letting the wet body of the toy rest on his sheets, covered in other men’s come.

Price dipped his thumb into your swollen hole, gathering up the mix of fluids onto the pad of his finger. He grabbed you by the nape of your neck and pulled you up, presenting this offering to you. Without breaking eye contact, you sucked his thumb into your mouth, eating the warm cream off of his hand.

Then, he angled himself toward you, still holding you upright, letting you watch as his cock stretched your lips wide and tight. Happy with his position, he tucked both of his hands around the back of your neck and began to rut into you like a wild beast.

You thought he was concerned about hurting you, but he didn’t hold back. If anything, he fucked you harder, as if he was trying to teach you — or himself — some kind of lesson. It was too intense. You could feel every inch of him as if you were being fucked for the first time. Your body trembled, and your mind swam, high from the continual hit of oxytocin, the pleasure making your thoughts dreamlike and surreal.

“Such a good girl for us,” he breathed, “Watchin’ you take their come like that. Bloody gorgeous. So willing. Your body just loves our cocks, don’t it?”

You nodded, trying to gasp for air, tumbling into an orgasm hard and fast.

“Yeah?” He grunted, “Fuckin’ hell. You fit me like a goddamn glove, little bird. I can feel them inside of you. All of their come. Feels so soft. So wet…”

“John… unghhh!” You came on him, but he didn’t let up. He just fucked you right through it, letting you suffer on his muscle, riding you hard and sloppy.

“Can’t wait to see you with that full, round belly. These big, heavy tits. Will you let me taste your milk, hm? Just a taste.”

He sucked your nipple into his mouth and laved at it with his tongue, sending bolts of pleasure right to your core. You weren’t sure what had gotten into your captain, but he was out of his mind with lust. His grunting and moaning were loud and shameless, and he manhandled your body like you belonged to him. Like you were his plaything.

“You are so beautiful…” John’s voice changed its timbre, and you met his eyes. There was something else he had to tell you, but he didn’t get the chance to say it. His face twisted into a mask of blissful agony and he let himself go, pumping his come deep inside of you, screaming in loud, barking shouts, holding you so tightly to him, you could barely breathe.

He fell on you, keeping his cock buried to its hilt, pulsing in you like a second heartbeat, totally spent. With the last bit of his energy, he fumbled with the plug and replaced himself with it, rolling off of you carefully, so as not to harm you.

Hours may have passed; you had no idea. But, since the others hadn’t come looking for you, you figured time was expanding only in your mind. You were pinned to Price’s furry body, covered in his heavy muscles as his little spoon, listening to him breathe. Eventually, when you could speak in full sentences again, you spoke softly.

“John,” you kissed his palm, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fallin’ for you, little bird,” he said with a cold, calculated certainty, “We all are. Don’t know how one baby can have four fathers.”

Your heart was crushed at the disappointment in his voice, and you turned to face him,

“So, what if it has four fathers? Will you love them less?”

“No,” he shook his head, “Of course not. If you… If you asked me to, I’d sign my bloody name no matter whose baby it was. Tha’s not what I’m worried about.”

“What are you worried about?” You put your hand on his cheek, making him look at you.

“I’m worried it’ll be too much for you. That we’ll be too much for you. You should do what makes you happy, little bird.”

He rolled out of bed and put his clothes back on in silence. When he was done, he helped you sit up and gave you some water. Wrapping you in a big fluffy robe, he pulled you to your feet and squeezed your hand,

“C’mon. Let’s go watch your show. The lad’s will be waitin’ for you.”

You followed your captain out to the common room, seeing that Simon and Johnny had saved you a seat between them. You smiled, settling into the middle of the couch, watching as Price sat in his big chair, lighting a cigar and stealing some popcorn from Gaz.

You couldn’t help but think about what he had said, nor could you stop thinking about the way that he had fucked you. Absent-mindedly, out of some form of comfort, you squeezed your tired muscles around the plug, wondering what the future held for you and these men. Could you care for them all? Was that even in the realm of possibility? It was so far from the accepted norm, you couldn’t envision a life like that. But, you were no quitter. If anyone was worth trying for, it was these four soldiers, and you decided you were going to do everything you could to care for them as much as they cared for you. Normalcy be damned.

///////////////////////

Ch. 03

[cherryblossompink303]

Patience: ~Starting today, you are a host!~

➼ pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader ➼ summary: you're slowly starting to get to know the host club you had just been recruited by, and more specifically the guy that you're supposed to marry, but with a new arrival you may have found a friend to navigate through this together. ➼ what to expect: “don’t you think that was a little harsh?” ➼ warnings: angst if you squint :) enjoy ➼ Prologue | Part 2

The warmth of spring was slowly starting to creep in as you sat in the window of music room three. You were still getting used to spending your free time in a high school host club, especially since host clubs as a concept was new to you.

And then there was Kyoya. Sitting quietly across from you was the guy that one day you were meant to marry, at least according to both of your families. When you transferred to Ouran two years ago you did not expect to meet your betrothed through the leader of the famed 'ouran highschool host club'

You remembered the day that you joined the host club well, a month after transferring and a couple of weeks after meeting Tamaki you did not expect to start your first day as consultant to the host club just to find that the vice-president was the kyoya ootori that you had heard about for most of your life.

Upon meeting you figured that there could be worse people to be engaged to. Kyoya was polite enough, well mannered, but he was strangely disconnected from you.

Even now, catching a glance at him from across the table, you realise that you really do not know that much about him.

"From the looks of things we are low on coffee, I can run out and get some if you'd like? Can have the guests go without" you offered, barely looking up from the book you were reading. Kyoya hummed, giving a somewhat smug smirk that you had expected from him by now. "No need, did Tamaki not tell you? we have an errand boy now"

"Errand boy?" the statement confused you, who would agree to be an errand boy for a high school host club for free? "Haruhi! Could you come over here a second?"

Approaching them was someone you recognised to be the newest scholarship transfer student, Fujioka, you think their name is. Which confused you more since you were pretty sure Haruhi Fujioka was a girl.

"This is Y/N L/N, my fiance and the host clubs consultant" you still haven't gotten used to the introduction. "It's nice to meet you" Haruhi greeted although you and her both know that you had met before. "Likewise"

"Haruhi we are low on coffee, would you mine running out to the shops to stock up" Haruhi nodded wordlessly, seemingly relieved that she may get a few moments peace while she is out buying coffee.

You shot Kyoya a questioning look as Haruhi wandered away. "Haruhi shattered that vase that we were going to put on auction, since we know he cannot pay for it we have given him a chance to work off his debt"

"That's a little harsh is it not senpai?" you knew that in hindsight the vase is not worth any significant amount for nearly any attendee of the school other than maybe Haruhi. Kyoya shrugged, taking a sip of black coffee "I don't see why, I feel that it is harsher to demand he pay knowing that he doesn't have the money"

You may not know kyoya well, but you know kyoya well enough to know that it wasn't worth the argument. "You do know..." he laughed, seemingly reading your mind of where you were going "Yes, I know that Haruhi is a girl" He leaned forward, now leaning down against the surface of the table.

"But Tamaki hasn't put that together yet" you did not know whether or not to be surprised, Tamaki seemingly always had lived in a world of his own, he often did miss out glaringly obvious details. But you couldn't help but feel a slight sense of devious smugness as you realised what Kyoya was doing. What was a little lie of omission if it is victimless?

You laugh a little, looking over to the rest of the members noticing that they were all now fawning over some instant coffee that Haruhi bought.

"Tamaki has seemed to take quite an interest in her regardless, I wonder how he will react when he finds out" Kyoya hummed out a laugh. "I'm not sure, but whatever it is it will be interesting"

You likewise hum in agreement "Indeed, although Ayanokoji does not seem to be incredibly happy at Haruhi's presence" Kyoya's gaze panned from you over to where Ayanokoji was sat seething.

"I suppose I should probably check in on our newest addition, make sure she knows the order of things" He decided, standing up "Good idea, we can't be sat together too long, people will start to talk" You joke, making kyoya laugh as much as he can given his near cold exterior. Somehow your engagement had been kept a secret over the years, which worked to Kyoya's advantage given that he is a host.

"Kyoya" You spoke one last time, causing him to turn back to you "Don't be too harsh on her" Kyoya has a tendancy to casually throw around the power of his family name often, including the secret police that answer to him , and you knew that well.

"For you, my dear, I will" You tried to disguise the blood rushing to his face, he had never called you by any endearments before, in fact he had never treated you with anything more than cordiality. Maybe you were overthinking it, he was probably just playing into the joke that you had started.

You tried to wave it off, you know that he doesn't have any romantic or even platonic interest in you. But there was hope, you just had to be patient with him.

At the end of what must have been a tiring day for Haruhi she flopped down on to a nearby sofa that you happen to be sitting on the other end of.

"They're a lot aren't they?" You try to console her as she tried to wrap her head around what on earth the past few hours had been. "I don't know how you put up with them" You laugh a little "They really aren't that bad, in time you'll come to enjoy their company"

"I did not know that you were engaged to Kyoya" you nodded, placing down your tea cup on the table. "We try to keep it to a need to know basis, I transferred here when I started high school so no one knew me and we figured that since Kyoya is a host it would be better to keep it a secret, the only people who know is the other club members and,well, yourself."

"I suppose that makes sense, if I am being honest y/n, I'm glad that there is someone reasonable around here"

"If I am being honest also Haruhi, I am glad you are here for the same reason, and don't worry, I'll keep your secret if you keep mine"

Thanks for reading <3 reply to be added to taglist!

[a-b-riddle]

A Simple (Mis) Understanding Chapter Two: Numbness & Pain

Daisy

I always used to think it was an exaggeration of how pregnancy is a constant state of exhaustion. But it was a lot of work growing a tiny human. Add in the fact that I'm still working 40 + hours a week and, of course, something is always causing some sort of discomfort or pain.

Swollen feet, back pain, nausea; I can't even find any solace in sleep. The 32 week mark felt so close, yet still so far. Another eight or so weeks of this seems like a drop in the bucket compared to how far along I am, but still. That still another two months. So far away when you want to be done, but still too short compared to everything I still have yet to do.

Another two months to set up a crib and wash her new clothes. Another two months to figure out a name and make decisions that I always envisioned making with a partner. Another two months of struggling to do things like picking up shit off the floor or staying on my feet long enough to make a decent meal.

But right now, I wasn't worried about the two months ahead of me and all the things I still have to do. Right now, I was looking forward to a three day undisturbed weekend. The pain in my feet and sciatica was becoming so bad, I had taken Friday off to see a doctor and spend the rest of the weekend doing nothing, but sitting in my modest little house and watching mind rotting television. I might even indulge in some spicy reading. Heaven knows its been too long.

Or at least, it hasn't been since them. That day in the office, but... that really didn't count. I often wrestled with myself about it. That one time erased any feelings I had for any of them. But I felt a bit pathetic how it now tainted every good memory I had with them. Kyle bringing me something to snack on when he realized I hadn't gone to the mess hall. Price always having a cup of earl grey tea cooling for me first thing in the morning. Two packs of zero calorie sweetner and a bit of honey.

Sweet like you.

I couldn't stand the smell of it now. I blamed it on the hormones. A lot of things made me queasy, but something about the smell of the bergamot, made me sick in a completely different way. A feeling not of nausea, but of... fear. Like the same way a pentagram could summon demons, earl grey could summon mine. As if John Price was somehow there any time the scent lingered in the air.

But he wasn't. None of them were. Fuck. Why did my thoughts always go back to them at some point? No. This was going to be a relaxing weekend god dammit. Fuck them.

Almost angrily, I hit the garage key fob, shutting the door and engulfing me into darkness; a thin line of light leaking through the bottom of the garage door. When I had opened my door, I could at least see a path to my mudroom. I grabbed my purse, ready to go in, when I felt it.

Hundreds of needles. Stabbing and digging into my feet. Not just the soles, but the entire fucking foot the moment I bared any weight on them. I pulled off my flats and it was then I noticed how angry they looked. Red and swollen and all but screaming at me to sit my fat ass back down. I wiggled my toes, trying to get some blood flow. Fuck. Why didn't they hurt while I was driving?

I manage to get onto my feet, using the car door as support. Steading myself until I was ready to take the first step. By the time I had managed to all but crawl inside, ten minutes had passed since my initial arrival time. I got off at 5:00, but usually didn't log off until almost 6:00. Granted, I work from home, but I had run out of a few essentials. Essentials now that were in the boot of my car.

Fuck.

10 minutes won't hurt. Not like there is any thing frozen. Speaking of which, I forgot my ice cream... dammit. I really need to start keeping a list on the fridge. It's hard to remember when pregnancy brain (or stomach) takes over and I slam a container in a single sitting.

Grabbing a pillow from the couch, I went to the kitchen. Which considering the town house, or terraced housing I suppose now, was perfect for a single and expecting Omega it was cozy. Not like the base where going from the common area to the chow hall was about a three minute stroll.

I get down and lay on my back. Carefully maneuvering so my ass rests against the cabinets before I hook the back of my heels unto the counter top so I could rest my feet a bit. Not the most sanitary, but it wasn't like I had guests. It was just me. For now.

It took a few moments to adjust. My back ached against the hardwood, but I could already feel the relief from my feet and legs. It wasn't all that shocking that I was having a hard time with them. I had gained a considerable amount of weight during my pregnancy. When I had brought it up to the OBGYN about possibly cutting back on food, her suggestion was to simply not weigh myself at home. Now when I went in for a visit they made me turn around before taking my weight.

It was hard. I've always had a problem with how I looked and now adding pregnancy then taking away the option to diet and exercise didn't exactly help.

I pulled out my phone and was preparing to open my kindle app when I saw a tiny red bar in the top right corner of my phone. Of course. I get nice and settled and my phone is on 2 fucking percent. Whatever. I tell Alexa to set an a timer for fifteen minutes and take a little nap. Maybe meditate.

A knock on the door quickly brings any possibility of relaxation to a pause. Margaret next door was dropping off Winnie off early to go to her book club. Margaret was a widow and a recent empty nester. She had spent her life as a mother and a homemaker. When I got custody of Winnie two months ago, she had quickly stepped up in helping me with everything from child rearing to managing my pregnancy.

"Hello, Maggie!" I greeted from the floor. "Hello, Winnie Darling." Winnie had the same sand colored hair as me and bright green eyes. Her face was a shade of red and I could smell her from the entryway. Someone would need a bath today. Fantastic.

"Oh, Dear!" Maggie fussed, setting Winnie down on her feet before coming over to me. "Are you alright?" Winnie didn't bother stopping to hug me like she normally would before making a beeline toward the potty. She usually was a creature of habit, but nature calls I suppose.

"Feet are a bit swollen." I waved off. "Just resting them a bit."

"I don't have to go tonight." She set her bag down. A deep green corduroy shoulder bag that always had just what you needed in it. A wet wipe, hand sanitizer, a spare tissue and even a stain pen when a spill happened at the most inconvenient time. "I'll stay and-"

"Maggie." I said, trying my best to sound at firm, but it was hard with her. No one told Maggie 'no'. "It's alright. Just a bit of water retention. Nothing to fret over." And it wasn't. I could already feel the pain from earlier subside.

"Really, it's no bother." She argued, bending over to unstrap one of her shoes. "It's a bloody stupid book anyway. I just go for the gossip really."

"Maggie." I tried again. "Really."  "It's getting close to the due date and I don't want to burn out on me just yet." It was a lie. Even with her greying hair, a deepened laugh line, Maggie didn't burn out. She was one of the few Omegas I had met in my life and she could run circles around any of them, myself included.

The sound of flushing sounded from the bathroom followed by the faucet. She huffed before slipping her shoe back on. "If you insist."

"I do." I encouraged. As much as I loved having Maggie's help, I hated feeling like a burden. She had raised her children. It was time for her to do things for herself. "Besides, we'll see you tomorrow after my appointment tomorrow." The bathroom door clicked open, revealing my little Win with the front of her smock covered in water. Fantastic.

"Hi, Mommy." Winnie finally greeted. Her freshly washed hands dripping water droplets onto the hardwood. "What are you doing?"

"My feet hurt so I'm just letting them rest." I explained, looking up at her. Winnie was rambunctious as most four-year-olds without a sense of self preservation are, but when I explained to her how careful she had to be now that I had her sister in my belly, her nature had become more gentle.

It worried me as much as it warmed my heart. 

"Why don't you sit on the couch?" She asked. Her head tilting to the side, face etched as if she were trying to figure out my reasoning.

"Because it helps when you lift your feet up high in the sky, Winnie Pooh." Maggie explained before looking back at me. "Well if you're sure-"

"I am. Go." I urged. "We'll see you tomorrow. Lunch around noon?" Spending time with Maggie didn't make me feel like such a parasite when I knew she enjoyed the company. Her children had all moved away, only one staying in the UK. She wasn't so alone, but neither was I.

"Wouldn't miss it." She gave a soft smile. The laugh lines around her face deepening. "See you tomorrow, Dearies." She said, retreating back outside. The soft sound of the door clicking behind her.

Winnie had laid down beside me. Yep. Definitely going to need a bath tonight. "How was school today?" Winnie went to a pre-school that was luckily covered under my insurance. Perks of being an Omega. I'll take it where and when I can.

She talked about going to the playground and painting. All the usual bits. Who she played with and new things she learned. Then came the question. A question she had asked before in passing. A subject I changed with ease before. 'Have you brushed your teeth? How about another episode of Bluey? Put on your trainers (because we can't just say tennis shoes anymore) and we'll go for a walk to the park. I had skirted around the question with ease. 

"Why don't you have a mate if you have a baby?" Winnie was too young to get the answers to a lot of life's difficult questions. Why did Tiffany not like us? Why didn't she get to see her daddy anymore? Why did that man look at you weird on the train, mommy?  I wish she would just stay this little. That she never needed or want to know the harsh truths about me, us.

"I..." I wracked my brain for an answer and just came up short. I couldn't think of a way to sugarcoat it. We almost had a mate. Mates. We almost had a pack that would have walked you to school on the mornings my feet were too sore or I was already running late. They would have loved you. "It... it's complicated, Darling." Is what I chose instead. The other worrisome fact is that Winnie was too young to understand the concept about mates. I had never broached the subject which only means she probably heard it from some little shithead at school. 

Wonderful.

"I'll explain it when you're older." I promise, closing my eyes and letting her snuggle into the crook of my arm. "Do you wanna rest your eyes with me?"

"Like when I'm five?" She asks putting one of her hands underneath my shirt onto my belly. It had become a thing she had started since I told her about the baby.

"Maybe six." I said, looking down at her. She gave a yawn before closing her eyes.

"I think five is better."

"Okay, Win." I said. "When you're five we'll talk about it." It was a promise I hoped she would forget. But I didn't want to negotiate with a four-year-old about something future me could deal with. I wanted just 15 minutes of this. I order Alexa to set a timer to make sure we haven't dozed too far off. Winnie still needed to shower and eat. I still needed to get the groceries out of the car. But I could spare another 15 minutes.

[dfortrafalgar]

Just A Little More Time

Law x Fem Reader

Law wants more, and winter break seems like the perfect opportunity. Indeed, he wants more... but not at the cost of your relationship.

A/N: Another bonus chapter for IMLY, the masterlist of which I will link below! I wrote this MONTHS ago and have a second part to follow that I still have to finish. You can definitely read this without reading the entirety of the main fic, but there are parts of this that directly reference IMLY, so there's a potential that these might not make as much sense ;3;

Warnings: Mentions of sex but nothing explicit, hints of past sexual trauma, allusions to medical issues, in general fluff and law being a dork

[IMLY Masterlist]

PLAY IT SAFE!  USE PROTECTION!

Law stared blankly at the bowl of condoms situated outside the student activities office.  A tiny index card placed beneath the pink plastic bin said they were free to take, but the biology undergrad felt beyond awkward reaching into the bowl to grab a few.  Would he even need them?  Everything had been going so well with you that he was worried he was going to jynx himself with every tiny action and idea.  For the first time in his life, he found something he truly, desperately wanted to hold onto.  He had fallen in love… and fallen hard.

Biting back his growing anxiety, and ignoring the off-put stares from students walking by, Law reached into the bowl, grabbed three wrapped condoms, and frantically stuffed them into the pocket of his baggy cargo pants.  He briskly trudged out of the building and began his walk through the brisk winter air across the campus to the dining hall where you promised to meet him.  A light snow was floating through the air, coating the frozen ground with powdery white that crunched beneath his shoes, the salted pavement of the walkways helping with traction.  His heart hammered at the mere thought of seeing you again- you had been so busy with final exams that the two of you had barely been able to spend time together, the pressure mounting even higher as the two of you wrapped up your third year as undergrads.  And although you were only officially dating for about three months, Law was endlessly looking forward to the next time he got to see you.

And he was really counting his blessings.  For the entire two months of winter break, you were staying together in his single dorm on campus.  He didn’t have much of a home to return to, usually choosing to stay with Shachi and Penguin.  You chose not to return home, finding distress in your family life.  And besides, who wouldn’t want to spend the winter cuddling under fluffy blankets with an adorable, nerdy med student?

Law pushed through the doors of the dining hall and proceeded into the expanse of tables and chairs, the same dining hall where he first found his heart racing at the sight of you.  The circumstances recently had been far nicer though, and it turned out his chronic resting-bitch face made for a pretty good bodyguard-type vibe, exactly what you needed to feel safe walking around the open campus of North Blue University.  You were hunched over one of the small tables in the back of the cafeteria, your chin resting against your fist as you flipped through a comic magazine, one that Law had leant you a week prior.  The bio student felt his lips pull into a small smile at the sight.

Sensing his approach, you picked your head up, a broad grin immediately appearing on your face as you stood from your chair and engulfed him in a hug.  A baggy crew-neck sweater adorned with the university’s logo enveloped you, your lavender and vanilla perfume wafting around Law in serene waves.  While he wasn’t ever a fan of PDA, there were so few people in the dining hall that he felt comfortable placing his hands on your waist and dipping you back just enough to reach the soft skin of your neck, peppering a smattering of kisses over your skin before releasing you.  Your bright, airy chuckles made his stomach twist with nervous butterflies.  The condoms in his pants pocket felt like they were lava, oozing and searing through the fabric.

“How was your last final?” you asked excitedly, pulling away from him to gather your things from the table.  You closed the magazine and held it toward him, Law happily accepting it back and tucking it into his backpack.

“It went well, I think.  I’ve never been great with language classes, though,” he muttered back, awkwardly rubbing his neck where the short black hairs reached the top of his spinal cord.

You grinned, almost blinding the man, slinging your own bag over your shoulder and grabbing his hand in yours.  Your fingers intertwined seamlessly.  “I’m sure you did absolutely amazing, you ace every single class you take.”

“I appreciate it,” Law replied, his voice low as he smiled at you, your eyes creased as they adjusted to the outside light.  “How were your’s?”

As quickly as your face beamed upon seeing your boyfriend, it morphed into a disinterested scowl.  “Language was fine.  Math on the other hand…”

“I thought it was an open note exam,” he inquired.

“It was.  The bastard TA decided last minute to make it closed-book.  Didn’t tell anyone until today, when the exam started.”  You were grumbling, stuffing your free hand into the pocket of your coat.  “I swear, the dude sitting next to me looked ready to end it all.  I might have too, but I have too much to look forward to.”

Law’s chest panged.  He knew it was a simple joke, but ever since forming your relationship, seeing you in any state other than happy and content was a health hazard for him.  He squeezed your hand, keeping the skin of your palm warm.  “I’m sure you did fine.  You tried your best, at least.”

“True, that’s all you can ask for, really.”  You stifled a yawn.  “Trying my best.”

The black-haired man’s heart raced more and more while approaching the door to his dorm building with you in tow, the three metallic-wrapped items in his pocket growing more and more scorching the closer he got to his room.  He was convinced he might pass out.  He was wildly regretting the choice to grab them, worried that you would get the wrong idea if you saw them, thinking he’d be pressuring you into something you weren’t ready for, thinking that this entire two-month relationship was nothing more than–

“Law?”

Your delicate voice broke him from his anxious spiral.  When did the two of you get into the elevator?

You were staring up at him, large eyes creased in concern.  “You look really nervous.  Are you alright?”

He gulped.  “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?  I can just go back to my own room if you’re suddenly not feeling well, I still have some things I have to pack up,” you offered.

Law’s hand was growing clammy in yours.  He prayed you couldn’t tell.  “No, you can stay.  I’m fine.”

Your own hand flexed in his, and while you turned your gaze away from him, you didn’t seem convinced at his answer.

One thing Law still struggled with, and something that he would probably always struggle with, was facing his emotions head on.  The last thing he wanted to admit out loud was the fact that he had grabbed three condoms from the student activities bowl with the hopes that two months of living in a small room with you would mean a potential score.  He didn’t even know if they would fit.  Were condoms one-size-fits-all?  He had no idea.  He’d never had sex before.

The low beep of the elevator’s button panel signaling their destination shook him once again from his own mind.  You losened your grip on his hand, worried that it was you who was the cause of his sudden nervous demeanor.

“Hey, Law,” you whispered, the quiet hallway absorbing your voice.  You stopped him in front of the elevator as it closed, standing directly in front of him to capture his eyes with your own.  “Take a deep breath with me, alright?”

You slowly inhaled through your nose, feeling how your ribs expanded ever so slightly as your lungs swelled with the warm air of the dorm building.  Law followed your lead, sucking in oxygen through his nose.  You had some sort of supernatural ability to make him feel better instantly, better than any form of medication or clinical treatment.  His shoulders relaxed as he exhaled with you.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“Don’t be,” you replied, a small smile on your lips.  You stepped closer to him, pressing a kiss against the corner of his mouth.  “I just want you to know that you can talk to me if something’s bothering you.”

Law swallowed another thick glob of spit down his esophagus before mustering a weak nod.  “I know.”

Footsteps down the hallway sparked a fire under Law’s feet, quickly dragging you to his door as innocuous as he could, jamming the key into the bolt and clicking open the lock.  He pushed the wooden barrier open with his hand and ushered you inside as you giggled over his frantic movements, not wanting to be seen by any potential bystanders.  Choosing to ignore any playful comments about his shyness, you instead kicked off your shoes and shrugged off your coat, making a beeline to Law’s single twin-sized bed and flopping onto the surprisingly plush comforter that covered his mattress.  As clinical and stoic as Law was, he had an absolutely adorable bedspread.  A simple blue comforter with an ocean wave pattern on it, plain white sheets, three pillows, and a large stuffed animal of a polar bear, which wore a peculiar orange shirt with a strange symbol embroidered on the front.  Everything was wrapped in Law’s scent, that familiar comfort of cedar and lemongrass.

Law chuckled, deep and husky, at the sight of you immediately wrapping yourself in one of the throw blankets situated at the foot of his bed.  “Comfy?”

You hummed in response, flopping onto his pillows and curling up under the throw, hiding your face and taking a deep inhale of the laundry detergent he used.  You might have fantasized about sharing a bed with him for the rest of your life, but he didn’t need to know that.  At least, not yet.

You peeked out from under the blanket as Law milled around his room, neatly situating your bag on the ground next to his, an action which made your heart flutter.  After only three months of steady dating, the two of you had already fallen into a routine when visiting your individual rooms, as if you had been together for an eternity.  Life with Law came so natural, despite the rocky start the two of you had upon first meeting.  The Law from the study room almost five months ago was a completely different man compared to the one nearly folding his clothing and organizing his desk to prepare for your stay, humming a small song under his breath.  He had reserved the top drawer of his wooden wardrobe for your clothing, the few sets of pajamas and day clothes that he wanted to keep in his room for when you spent the night.  (He had a few sets in your room, too.)

Deep in the crevices of your mind, you wondered what married life with him could be like.  He’d probably be just as domestic, if not more so.  He’d probably make such a great father…

“Hey,” he spoke, shaking you from your own trance.  The two of you were one in the same.  “Tired?”

“Nah,” you responded, sitting up slightly, letting the blanket fall around your abdomen.  “Just watching you like a creep.”

The laugh that left his lungs shook your ribcage, a heat fluttering through your veins.  “Do you wanna get changed?” he asked, pulling open the drawer below the one he reserved for you.

You swung your legs off the side of his bed, eager to get into cozier clothing.  “Obviously.”

Neither of you had seen the other naked.  Instead, you changed with your backs to each other, heads down, only turning around when the other gave permission to do so.  It was… comforting.  You assumed your stance behind Law with your back to him, quickly shedding your shirt, followed by your bra.  The sound of rustling clothes behind you signaled that Law was doing the same.  You had just pulled an oversized t-shirt over your head when you heard a few small paps on the floor, and a panicked, ‘Shit,’ from Law.

Not thinking, you turned around to look at what happened.

Three condoms lie on the floor next to his pants, Law frantically fumbling to scoop them off the ground.  He had forgotten to take them out of his pocket and stash them in his desk.  The force of him removing his baggy cargo pants pushed them up and out of the open pocket.

You quickly turned your back to him once again, your face flushed with heat, eyes wide.  It was too late, though.  He knew you saw.

“I…” he muttered, rapidly finishing changing and shoving the three metallic-wrapped packs into his desk drawer.  He was flustered, stuttering over his words.  He stumbled between muttering frantic apologies and explaining himself when you finally turned around.  His face was flushed a deep crimson as his golden eyes scanned your face for any form of discomfort or distrust.

“Were those for… me?” you asked, voice soft, apprehensive.

“No– I mean…” Law’s jaw snapped shut.  “Th… They were.  But only if you, you know– wanted to.  Or… fuck.”  He desperately searched for any appropriate explanation, terrified at the mere prospect of potentially driving you away from him, after he had come so far.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest at the thought.  On shaky legs, you approached the panicked man, gently grabbing his shoulders and grounding him.  “Hey, Law… breathe.”

He nervously licked his chapped lips, drawing a shaky inhale through his nose.  His eyes were clenched shut, too ashamed to look at you.  Your chest ached.

“Can we sit down?” you asked carefully, your hands trailing down his arms to grab his hands.  His fingers twitched at the contact, but he reciprocated your grasp.

You maneuvered yourself across the room, crawling back onto his bed and wrapping yourself in his blanket.  Law stayed seated on the very edge of the mattress, his feet dangling a few inches off the ground from his lifted bed frame.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, hanging his head.  His fluffy black hair shielded his eyes from your view.

“Please, don’t be,” you pleaded, scooting up behind him and resting your forehead against his vertebrae.  “It’s really alright.  I was just… surprised.  But flattered.”

Law slowly loosened his muscles.  He hadn’t expected ‘flattered’ to be the term to use.  “Really…?”

“I mean… yeah,” you replied.  “I’m surprised that you’d want that from me.”

The man’s stomach flipped.  He carefully turned around to face you, picking his legs up to sit more comfortably on his mattress.  “Why would you be surprised about that?”

The way you pursed your lips at his question made a million more concerns run through his mind.  You quickly shook your head back and forth.  “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

Law kept his gaze on you solid as your eyes darted between his wall, his hands, his blanket.  You nervously fiddled with your cuticles.  “The only time I’ve ever had sex with anyone, I bled for, like… three days.  And it hurt.  A lot.”

The man’s jaw clenched.

“I didn’t want to be rude and interrupt him, so I just kinda let it happen.  But ever since then I’ve been…” you swallowed.  “Scared.  Like… I’m worried I’m broken.”

He wanted to slaughter the man who hadn’t noticed your pain, no matter how long ago the incident was.  The look on your face told him that it still cut you deep despite your calm tone.  Law leaned toward you, concern heavy on his face.  “Did you speak to a doctor about that?”

You nodded.  “Only once.  My old gynecologist as a teenager suggested it could be anything.  He was like, ‘It could be absolutely nothing, or you might have endometriosis.  But you’re so young, so it’s probably nothing.’  So to deal with it I just never got close to a guy since then.”

The black-haired man rolled his eyes.  “That doctor sucked.”

This made a small laugh burst from your lungs.  “He did suck.”  After a few brief moments, you finally made steady eye contact with your boyfriend across from you.  “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“What?  No,” he blurted, waving his hands in the air.  “You didn’t disappoint me, you could never disappoint me.  If anything… I’m happy you trust me enough to share that.  I’ve…”  His voice trailed off.

You anxiously waited for his next words.

“I’ve never had sex before.  With anyone.  So all of this is still pretty foreign to me, too.”

A strange sense of relief filled your chest.  “Really?”

Law felt a tiny smirk twitch onto his lips.  “Does that surprise you?”

“A little, yeah.”  You were visibly loosening up, once again growing comfortable where you sat across from him on his bed.  “I mean, you’re crazy hot.”

Even more blood rushed to his cheeks making him feel warm from the crown of his head to the heels of his feet.  “If it helps… you are, too.  That’s… uhm… why I got those.”  He gestured with his head to his desk drawer.

You hid your face in his blanket, embarrassment pulsing through your blood with each rapid beat of your flustered heart.  “This makes me feel even more bad for being so scared.”

Law ghosted his hand over your shoulder, pulling you out of your slouch.  You reminded him of an armadillo in a way, curling up into a little ball to protect yourself from danger.  His mind flashed back to the movie night your friends had some months prior, when he found you behind the building with your head on your knees.  “Never feel bad, I’m serious.”  His voice was firm yet soft, revealing his intentions to make you feel as safe and protected as he could.  “I don’t care if we never have sex at all, or if it takes a long time.  I really don’t care.  As long as you’re… okay.  Healthy.”

You apprehensively peeked out from the blanket once more.  “Really…?”

“Really.”

The man bit down his surprise as light tears welled in the corners of your eyes.  You shuffled across the bed, closing the gap in between your bodies and wrapping him into a strong hug, the blanket shrouding his body as the two of you fell backwards onto his pillows.  You buried your head into his neck as his arms came to rest against the small of your back, holding you securely against him.  He could feel you grinning into him, tiny trickles of hot tears falling down the skin of your cheeks.

“I genuinely think you’re the best man I’ve ever met,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against the cotton of his shirt.

“I’m just sorry you’ve had such bad experiences,” he uttered back, staring at the ceiling as he held you against him.

“Don’t get rid of the condoms,” you sighed.  “I have a feeling we’ll need them eventually.”

Law grinned, squeezing your form in his secure arms.  “On your own time.”

“On your’s, too.”

[asdfghjklmals]

LILIES & ROSES 2.0✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. suggestiveness and mentions of sex. WORD COUNT: 4.1k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc, dad!gojo, mom!oc. established couple.

SYNOPSIS: oc gojo girlfriend and satoru celebrate baby gojo's first valentine's day! AUTHOR'S NOTE: happy early valentine's day everyone! sorry i've been so mia. i hope this fic will make up for my absence. the first ‘lilies & roses’ fic was for oc gojo girlfriend’s mother’s day so make sure to read that. 💚 REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

you and satoru woke up at exactly 5am to your five-month-old human alarm clock babbling in her snoo.

you felt slender, yet strong arms slide under your shirt to pull you closer, even if it was just for a moment. a quick, welcoming kiss by soft tender lips pressed onto your exposed shoulder blade.

“good morning, sweetheart.” satoru whispered into your ear, finally pulling away from you so he could start his morning routine with his daughter.

you turned to face him, half-awake eyes following each step from his side of the bed to your daughter’s bassinet across the room. you let out a tired sigh.

“there’s daddy’s big girl!” satoru said with a quiet, yet cheery voice. a gummy smile appeared on the face of your 5 month old baby girl. it was a smile that satoru never got tired of seeing.

he reached down to pick up sayuri, holding her close to his chest so that her head could rest on his shoulder. you saw her peeking at you. you shot a soft smile at her as her lips trembled. she wanted mommy right now. and where the hell was her milk?

before sayuri could even let out a cry for you, satoru quickly left the master bedroom and shut the door behind him. this was the start of his morning routine, bonding time with his daughter that he always looked forward to.

and so, you shut your eyes for a couple more minutes before satoru and sayuri would come back with their special delivery, your morning coffee. (read ‘morning routine 2.0’ here)

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

“okay, yurs—here’s the game plan,” satoru said to his baby girl, “today is something called valentine’s day. usually mommy and daddy go out on a date and then participate in love-making-physical-activities at night, but since we have you this year, i think we should change it up a little.”

sayuri drooled on satoru’s shoulder, unsure of what her father was babbling on about. she pursed her lips and continued to drool.

“we need to stop by the flower shop first so we can get her a nice big bouquet of ros—i mean lilies. those are your mommy’s favorite flower you know. did you know you’re named after them?” (read 'hello baby' here)

sayuri. sayuri meant ‘small lily’ in japanese. it was the perfect name for your perfect baby girl.

satoru continued on with explaining his plan to his partner in crime, “then—i was thinking that while you take your afternoon nap, i can cook a late lunch for mommy. i haven’t done that for her in a long time.”

satoru stirred sweet creamer into your cup of coffee and smiled. he felt as if his plan was going to be perfect—another successful valentine’s day for satoru gojo in the books.

as he imagined how the day would progress, he warmed up a packet of your stored breast milk for sayuri before she started to fuss. but sayuri gojo was no fool, she knew she was going to be fed in a few moments so she decided to give grace to her trying father. she decided that she’d throw a tantrum later.

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

“what do you mean you’re taking sayuri out by yourself?” you frowned after taking a sip of your morning coffee. you had hoped to spend some time with your little family today—it was valentine’s day after all.

last year, you told satoru that you didn’t want to do anything extravagant because you were still in the early stages of your pregnancy. you were nauseas and tired during your first trimester. knowing him, he would have already had a trip to somewhere tropical planned if you hadn’t told him that you wanted to stay home.

satoru mischievously grinned, rubbing salt into your wound, “we are going to have a daddy-daughter date for valentine’s day.”

“what if i wanted to have a mommy-daughter date?” you pouted back at your baby daddy, “it’s our baby girl’s first valentine’s day, can’t we spend it together?”

an imaginary lightbulb lit up above satoru’s head. he did need time to cook for you without you being in the apartment, so maybe you could take sayuri during that time.

“how about you take sayuri out for a couple hours?” satoru suggested, “we’ll be home by 2pm.”

“—but 2pm is her nap time, satoru.”

‘of course you wouldn’t forget about her nap time.’ satoru thought to himself. he shifted his milk-drunk daughter in his arms so he could face you.

“okay, how about this, sweetheart—i’ll take yurs and be home by noon. she can take an early nap, and then you can have her at 3pm. i have an appointment from 3pm-5pm anyways.”

satoru may have lied about having an appointment, but he needed to have an excuse not to be with you and sayuri so he could prepare for your valentine’s day surprise.

“can we celebrate after your appointment?” you asked eagerly. your daughter’s first valentine’s day was important to you. not only was it sayuri’s first, it was yours and satoru’s first as parents.

“of course, sweetheart.” satoru said as he leaned in for a kiss on your forehead, a sneaky grin plastering his face, “we have a tradition to uphold.”

“if sex is the tradition you’re talking about, i swear to—”

a whimpering cry interrupted your empty threat to satoru. sayuri was still hungry. she started to wail as if she was screaming, ‘more food, please!’

“—and that’s my queue to leave,” satoru said as he handed off sayuri to you. he quickly jumped out of the bed to make sayuri another bottle.

you shook your head and chuckled.

“your daddy is so silly,” you looked down at satoru gojo’s mini-me. everything you loved about satoru reflected back at you in your daughter. her slender nose, soft pink lips, and her thin white eyebrows. you had the most perfect child. of course you did, she was satoru gojo’s copy and paste.

“so baby girl—i was thinking that while we go on our mommy-daughter date, we can go see grandpa kiku and grandma fuku. daddy would be devastated if we didn’t get him anything for valentine’s day.”

sayuri looked up at you as you patted her back gently. she felt content being in your arms. it gave her comfort and soothed away any fears she may have had, just like daddy’s—and it was the exact same feelings that satoru felt whenever he was in your arms.

“then we can come back home and spend the night with daddy!” you said excitedly with a giggle, “you have to protect mommy from daddy tonight, okay?”

sayuri gojo wouldn’t understand your joke, but you knew what satoru gojo’s intentions were on a day like valentine’s day.

later that morning

“your mom must be loving the fact that she can sleep in today,” satoru chuckled to his daughter as he opened the glass door to the flower shop.

satoru, you, megumi, and tsumiki have been going to this flower shop ever since you moved to the apartment. at first, it was just convenient for satoru. satoru always bought you flowers whenever he upset you or whenever he wanted to surprise you with them just to see you smile. and now, after years of giving the flower shop owner business, you were regulars—to the point where the owner, mrs. itose, had a customized bouquet on hand made just for you whenever satoru or the kids needed it.

“good morning, satoru! good morning, miss sayuri!” the flower shop owner greeted the father-daughter duo.

satoru smiled, presenting his baby girl, “say hi to grandma itose!”

grandma itose had been around for the growth of yours and satoru’s relationship. she was like family. when you gave birth to sayuri, she sent the world’s most beautiful bouquet of lilies you had ever seen. mrs. itose placed her bets that baby gojo was going to be a girl and because of that, she was one of the first people to know sayuri’s name.

“i’m guessing you’re here for valentine’s day?” the shop owner smiled as she continued to wrap rose bouquets to sell for the day. it was a busy day for mrs. itose.

satoru scratched the back of his head and grinned, “that obvious?”

“don’t you worry, satoru. i have (y/n)’s bouquet ready for you.” mrs. itose said with a smug, yet confident grin. she wiped off her hands on a towel and walked to the back of the shop, disappearing for a moment.

satoru watched sayuri as her small, curious eyes scanned the store. her eyes were always full of wonder. she gave a gummy smile to the shop owner who smiled back at her while holding your large bouquet of lilies and roses and a smaller bouquet of lilies alongside it.

“what’s that small bouquet for?” satoru asked, knowing he didn’t order a small bouquet.

mrs. itose smacked satoru’s shoulder, “not only do you have (y/n) to buy flowers for, but you have to buy them for your daughter too!”

satoru’s heart sank. he felt guilty that he didn’t even think about buying his mini-me, his adorable little girl, a bouquet for valentine’s day. he now had two girls in his life to think about.

“i didn’t even think about that before we had sayuri.” he sheepishly admitted, giving sayuri an apologetic kiss to her chubby cheek.

“being a girl dad will make you realize a lot of things.” mrs. itose teased, “a reflection of how you treat (y/n) is a guideline to how sayuri will expect to be treated by her significant other when she grows up.”

the thought of sayuri growing up, dating, and eventually getting married gave satoru the chills. he didn’t even want to think about it. all he knew was that whoever his daughter ended up loving, they better love her the way he loved you.

“grandma itose, thank you for teaching me how to be a good dad. and you’ve always helped me be a good partner to (y/n).” satoru said with appreciation. mrs. itose was always a listening ear when he would pick up flowers after an argument.

the shop owner smiled warmly at satoru and sayuri, “have a happy valentine’s day, you two.”

satoru held the two bouquets up with his cursed technique and paid the shop owner double the amount of what the flowers actually costed. he made sure to leave before mrs. itose could say anything.

“say bye to grandma itose, yurs.” satoru sang as he held sayuri’s arm to wave goodbye.

next year, he would make sure to remember to order flowers for his precious little lily too.

later that afternoon

“i bet your daddy wishes he could be here with us.” you sang smugly as you pushed sayuri’s nuna stroller down the familiar streets of tokyo. “he loves seeing grandpa kiku and grandma fuku.”

sayuri was bundled up warmly in her swaddle, enjoying the stroller ride. her view was a beautiful you. your long black hair flowed behind you in the wind, green eyes sparkling as you looked on ahead. sayuri looked at you just like satoru did. with awe.

“i’m sorry you had to change your nap time today.” you apologized, “mommy couldn’t help it. she wanted to spend time with you too.”

you weren’t mad at the fact that satoru and sayuri always got to spend time together, in fact, you loved that they had a bond. it was more of the thought that one day, your baby girl wouldn’t need her mother anymore.

you made your way to the kikufuku stand that you and satoru had been visiting since you were high schoolers. the stall owners recognized you immediately and rushed towards you.

grandma fuku called out your names excitedly, “(y/n)! sayuri!”

“hi mrs. fuku.” you laughed, knowing exactly what she wanted. you picked up sayuri and placed her in grandma fuku’s arms as she cooed at your baby.

grandpa kiku and grandma fuku were family, just like grandma itose. you remembered the moment when your belly started showing during your pregnancy. you wanted to surprise and visit grandma fuku to see if she would notice. grandma fuku was so excited when she realized you were pregnant, she wanted to close to shop immediately so she could sit down and talk to you about motherhood. that day, even grandpa kiku ended up giving satoru a lecture on how to be a good husband and that being a dad changes your entire life.

you were grateful for the kikufuku stand couple. they had been there for you and satoru when you were both in high school. their kikufuku stand was where you and satoru had your first date, and many more dates after that. they had become important parts of your lives and you hoped that they would be in your daughter’s too. (read 'love at first fight' here)

“grandpa kiku packed up all of satoru’s favorites.” grandma fuku said with a smile as she held sayuri in her arms. your baby enjoyed being held by anyone—she was a friendly baby, just like her friendly father.

grandpa kiku called out with a grin, “we figured one of you two would be here to pick these up.”

he held out a pink box of kikufuku towards you, all in satoru’s favorite flavors. you placed them in sayuri’s stroller and quickly paid the shop owners a generous amount of money, far more than what the sweet treat was actually worth. it was the least you could do for them after all these years of satoru terrorizing their kikufuku stand.

a visit to the kikufuku shop with sayuri always lasted longer than expected. they always wanted to hold her and talk about how she was doing. in a blink of an eye, an hour had already passed. you had to meet satoru back at home.

“on our next day off, satoru and i will bring sayuri.” you promised as you placed sayuri back into her stroller.

“that would be great! happy valentine’s day, (y/n) and sayuri! tell satoru we said hi!” the shop owners called out to you.

you gave them a bright smile and waved back, “we will! happy valentine’s day! don’t work too hard!”

“make sure to have lots of babies for me!” grandma fuku made sure to add.

you laughed at her request. you were pretty sure satoru’s sobo and your grandma wanted the same thing too. but for now, you and satoru wanted to enjoy the time you had with your little accident, sayuri.

at the gojo/(l/n) apartment

on your way home, a burning smell wafted through the apartment hallways, worrying you.

“is your father already home?” you asked your daughter as if she could answer you. you already knew it was satoru, you could sense his cursed energy residuals.

you typed in the code to the pin pad lock and pushed sayuri’s stroller in. the burning smell was coming from your kitchen.

“babe, are you okay…?” you called out.

“goddamn it—oh hi sweetheart!” satoru turned around attempting to mask his apparent frustration, he sucked on his thumb that he burned while attempting to grab something from the oven.

“did you burn yourself?”

“yes…” he mumbled, “can you come kiss it better?”

you laughed at how much of a baby the strongest sorcerer could be.

“let me grab sayuri, run it under cold water first.”

while you picked up sayuri from her stroller, satoru obediently ran his thumb under the kitchen faucet, the icy cold water soothing his burn.

you approached him from behind with sayuri attached to your hip, rubbing his back in soothing circles.

“you okay, babe?” you attempted to stifle a laugh.

satoru pouted and answered dramatically, “no, i might just die right now, it hurts so bad.” as a jujutsu sorcerer, you were pretty sure he’s felt worse than a simple cooking burn.

“hold her,” you demanded while you handed your daughter off to her father, “give me your hand.”

he quickly put his hand in yours. the red spot on his thumb was starting to blister. you focused your reversed cursed technique onto his burn, water appearing from the air to cover the spot on his thumb. when you released your technique, it was as if the burn never happened.

sayuri blinked in awe as she watched you and satoru. sayuri gojo was born with cursed energy, but you and satoru didn’t know what her innate cursed technique was yet. was it limitless from the gojo clan? or was it an elemental technique from your clan?

“you’re such a baby, satoru.” you teased, “you can use reversed cursed energy yourself but for some reason, you always come to me to heal you.”

“guilty as charged.” satoru grinned before pulling you in for a kiss, “i’ll always be your baby.”

you pulled away from him, biting your lip with a seductive grin. curious sayuri leaned towards the kitchen, grabbing your attention. you turned to stare at the oven, “so what happened to my kitchen?”

“i tried to make us dinner but i forgot about the food in the oven while i was cleaning and decorating.” satoru said, face palming his forehead.

you turned to look at the decorations satoru was talking about. a large bouquet of lilies and roses and a smaller one sat on the glass dining table, rose petals decorated the floor with candles lit all around the kitchen and living room area. it reminded you of your 25th birthday. (read ‘forget me not’ here)

you blinked twice. you didn’t even notice how clean the apartment was or all the valentine’s day decorations that satoru put up when you first came through the door. the burning smell must’ve distracted you.

you walked over to the patio door to open it, airing out the burnt smell and smoke. as you made your way back to satoru, he sunk into the couch, white cushions engulfing him, sayuri sitting on his chest. she gently patted his chest as if she was consoling him.

“what’s wrong?” you asked with concern.

satoru crest-fallen, mumbled, “i had the perfect valentine’s day planned out for us, but i burnt our dinner.”

“the only thing that matters is that our apartment isn’t burnt down.” you giggled.

“but sweetheart, i wanted today to be perfect.”

“it’s already perfect,” you smiled at him and then at your daughter, “i have my perfect man, my perfect baby, and you got me flowers. what more could i ask for?”

“a perfect dinner?” satoru added sarcastically.

you shot a glare at him before grabbing his chin with your hand, positioning his face to look straight at you.

“what were you cooking anyways?”

“a prime rib roast.”

you really would’ve enjoyed that prime rib roast today, but you had to save satoru’s pride. satoru gojo couldn’t be perfect at everything.

“it’s fine, who cares about a roast!” you bluffed while letting go of his chin, “how about we get take out from sushi go?”

“not splendid sushi?” satoru asked, knowing that you liked splendid sushi, while his favorite was sushi go.

“no, we can get sushi go tonight.” you said with a smile in hopes that it would make satoru feel better, “and before i forget, sayuri and i got you something for valentine’s day.”

sayuri babbled while attempting to eat the buttons of satoru’s dress shirt. she reached for satoru face as he playfully nipped at her stubby fingers with his mouth.

you made your way back to the couch with satoru's box of kikufuku. a smile crept back on his face. he couldn’t stay mad if a box of his favorite sweets were being presented to him by an extremely captivating and beautiful woman.

“my girls went to see grandpa kiku and grandma fuku without me?” he teased, squeezing and poking at sayuri’s chubby cheeks.

“mhmm.” you laughed, “we had to make sure we didn’t forget about daddy on our mommy-daughter date.”

“speaking of forgetting… you know what mrs. itose said to me today?”

you tilted your head to the side, waiting for him to continue on with his story.

“she said whenever i buy flowers for you, i should buy some for yurs too. she mentioned that how i treat you is gonna be a guideline on how sayuri is going to expect to be treated from her significant other when she grows up.”

“well, mr. satoru gojo, it’s a good thing you take very good care of me and treat me very well.” you smiled back at him, eyes full of adoration for the love of your life—and the father of your child.

satoru added, “—and don’t forget i love you very much.”

you snuck a kiss on satoru's cheek, “i love you too, babe.”

you looked back at the flowers sitting on the dining table. mrs. itose’s work was beautiful. you have never received a subpar bouquet from her and satoru. you spotted sayuri’s baby bouquet, noticing hers exclusively had lilies.

“i like how baby girl gets a bouquet of just lilies but mine still have roses in there even though you know lilies are my favorite flower.” (read ‘lilies & roses’ here)

“it’s an inside joke for us now. it’d be weird if you didn’t have roses in your bouquet.” satoru chuckled as sayuri laid on his chest, looking up at you. you admired the sweet sight, your child and your lover both looking back at you with the same eyes you loved so much.

“so how about that take out order?” satoru asked with his fingers on the speed dial for sushi go.

“don’t forget my salmon nigiri!”

EXTRA:

“i’m exhausted,” satoru huffed as he laid down on his side of the bed, his arm covering his eyes and forehead.

he had spent the last two hours cleaning the oven from the failed prime rib dinner while you and sayuri went through her night routine. (read ‘grateful for you’ here)

“too tired for your love-making activities?” you asked curiously, wondering if the baby blue lingerie set you wore under your robe tonight was going to go to waste.

“for once in my life, i think i am.” satoru sighed.

you pouted, “that’s a shame. i bought the cutest lingerie set just for you. it has a garter and everything!”

satoru sat up, interested in what you had to say. “well, when you put it that way… how about you show me? is it see through? is it edible? does it have ease of access?”

you giggled at his silly questions. he pulled you into his lap as he starting to unravel your robe, tracing kisses along your collarbone, the sensation tickling you.

you sensed a familiar cursed energy waver. immediately, you put your hands on satoru’s chest, stopping him from his ministrations.

“what is it?” he asked impatiently as he bit at your hands.

you furrowed your eyebrows, “you don’t sense it? she’s gonna cry, daddy.”

satoru was hoping in all honestly that sayuri would self soothe and fall back asleep on her own.

you heard sayuri whimpering. her whimpering turned into a full on cry, your motherly instincts were spot on.

“oh come on, yurs…” satoru groaned.

“maybe next friday we can get a hotel room.” you laughed, knowing that megumi would be home for the weekend to babysit. (read ‘date night vs. babysitting night’ here)

you wrapped your robe around yourself again and stepped out of bed to comfort your crying baby. you carried your fussing daughter to the king sized bed that you and satoru shared, placing her right in the middle between you and the white haired sorcerer.

“you can sleep with mommy and daddy tonight.” you said softly as you patted sayuri gently, coaxing her to fall asleep again.

“nice one, yurs,” satoru chuckled. he noticed sayuri had stopped crying and fell right back asleep as soon as she laid in the bed with the two of you. “saving your innocent mommy from your monstrous daddy, huh?”

you laughed, remembering how you had asked sayuri to protect you from satoru earlier. satoru turned to face you and sayuri. the both of you watched as she breathed in and out, her tiny body relaxing and sleeping so peacefully in the presence of the two of you. your heart swelled watching her, she was the best thing to ever happen to you and satoru.

“happy valentine’s day, sayuri and mommy.” satoru whispered across his sleeping daughter.

you looked down at your baby girl before smiling back at satoru, “happy valentine’s day, sayuri and daddy.”

© 2024 ASDFGHJKLMALS — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

[deathbyathousandspiders]

peter and reader at avengers tower and they’re both avengers but they’re “best friends” cuddled up on the couch asleep and none of the avengers let them forget it for weeks

i gotchu ;) also thank you for the request !! i really appreciate it! <3

!!! read part two | part three | part four | part five here !!!

✨masterlist✨.

1.4k.

Being an Avenger definitely came with plenty of risks, seeing as you put your life on the line every day in attempt to save the world. Along with the risks, there were several upsides that outweighed your anxieties about the superhero lifestyle.

Every few months, the team was required to spend a week at the compound for training; it was something fairly stupid, but staying in the mansion for a week wasn’t something you’d complain about. Especially when the team made the most of it.

You enjoyed getting up at dawn to run with Steve, and cooking dinners with Wanda. One thing always stood out to be something you looked forward to most: movie night. You came up with the system so that everyone had a chance to pick a movie, and this week, it was Steve’s turn to pick. Unfortunately, he chose “Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.”

The entire team corralled on the couch, sharing four or five bowls of popcorn and chips, and watching the movie on the giant flat–screen in the meeting room. You were sandwiched between Steve and Peter, attentive to the screen in fear that Steve would be offended if you weren’t. It made you crack a small grin to overhear Sam trying to commentate on the movie, and Bucky immediately tell him to shut the hell up.

You don’t recall at what point of the movie you fell asleep, or how the blanket got draped over you, but it didn’t catch your attention quite like the silent snorer you were cuddled next to. The sound was oddly soothing, and the arm snaked around your torso warmed you more than the blanket did. You would’ve tried to drift back off to sleep in the midst of comfort, if not for the snickers heard beyond your closed eye–lids.

“They look so cozy.” Bucky’s voice was hushed, speaking just above a whisper. The dark of your closed eyes lit up for a second by what you recognized as a shuttered flash photo.

Shit.

“I’m going to make that my lock–screen.” Sam added, trying not to sound as amused as he felt.

There was a quiet pause. “Isn’t that a little weird?” Bucky’s whispered question carried itself above the scattered footsteps of their departure.

When their ascending paces creaked the carpeted floors further out, your eyes lifted, turning your head up to look up at your designated pillow. Upon shifting your sleeping position, you watched Peter adjust mid–slumber, unconsciously catering to your new position.

A smile touched your lips at how peaceful he looked beside you — mouth parted slightly, eyes gently shut, curls falling in front of his face. When you moved to sit up a little, his armed grip around your waist grew tighter, and his sleep stirred at the idea of your absence. You decided against leaving, or moving, and rested your head in the nook of his shoulder. Sleep welcomed you back into slumber quicker than Sam changed his wallpaper.

When you woke in the morning, you thought almost nothing of falling asleep next to Peter. The only thing left to remind you was the lingering aroma of Peter’s cologne, and the ghost of his arm leaving your waistline colder than the rest of your body.

You didn’t pay much mind to it, nor how frequently your train of thought seemed to derail back to Peter somehow; how snug his hold was, the way your head fit with his shoulder like a missing puzzle piece. It felt like a slow–burning ache, the way you missed him. But he was merely your best friend, and the rest of the team seemed to agree with that.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Sam chimed, watching you waltz into the kitchen. He leaned the small of his back against the marble countertop beside the espresso machine, waiting for the pull of his latte shots.

Your hair was still damp from your shower, and your hoodie husked over your body to protect from the looming winter chill. You arched a brow lightly at how amused he seemed to be, slowly recalling his whispered conversation with Bucky from the night prior. You decided to be coy with him. “I think you’ve got your Disney movies mixed up.” You started, pressing on your tiptoes to reach a bowl from the shelf. “We watched Snow White last night, Sam.”

He hummed, sounding skeptical. “Well, everybody but you and your little cuddle–bug boyfriend.” Sam tried to keep himself from laughing. He started to steam the milk he’d set aside to froth to cut you off from giving a witty remark.

Boyfriend. Peter wasn’t your boyfriend, and he probably wouldn’t ever be your boyfriend. Admitting that to yourself sent a sharp jab at your heartstrings, but the pain was quick. Quick like the blush that fanned your face before you dismissed it. Quick like the pour of cereal into your bowl like the thought didn’t flash through your mind.

The steam wand simmered down, and you made it a point to let out a scoff that he could hear. “He’s not my boyfriend–”

You turned. Like an idiot, you turned, bumping bodies with someone and nearly spilled your entire bowl of cereal across the tiled floors of the kitchen. Wide eyed, you looked up, meeting the familiar stare of your best friend. His arms hovered inches from yours, but the electricity flowing between you felt like that length was much shorter. The scent of his cologne filled the room so quick, you nearly forgot how to breathe.

Peter tried to laugh off how tense the room felt, feeling safe enough to once he knew you were okay. “Who’s not your boyfriend?” He asked, the chuckle weaving through his words, sending a pink glisten to your cheeks.

You could feel the smile Sam pressed to the lip of his mug, slurping his latte as he eyed the two of you. “I’ll give you guys the room.” With that, he left, still leaving the kitchen with just as thick of tension. It felt like he left a gigantic elephant in the room, one that had never existed to them until Sam pointed it out. He pointed it out all because you passed out on Peter’s shoulder.

Shaky fingers set the bowl of cookie crisps on the kitchen island before you walked to the fridge for some milk. Your eyes stayed glued to your task, almost like you were trying to avoid eye contact with Peter for some weird reason. How odd.

“Boyfriend?” You pressed air through your closed lips, blowing a dismissive rasberry. “I didn’t say boyfriend, I said Boygenius–” It was a solid cover up, for sure; you thought, pouring milk over your cereal. “They’re performing this weekend with Clairo–”

Peter pressed his palm into the kitchen island, leaning against the structure right beside you. The body heat from him radiated into yours from your close proximity, reeling you in with how intoxicating his presence was. “Y/N, are you hiding something from me?” He faked an offended expression, mouth agape from his act of shock.

That’s when your eyes met. And you swore that the connection of your vision sent him every thought that ran through your head. Every feeling that coursed through your veins telepathically traveled through his too. It was a second, just one second, where you felt like he shared the same conflicting feelings you did. Perhaps he felt the same attraction towards you that you felt for him.

It didn’t help that he stared down at you with such earnesty and attentive nature. His eyes glossed over every inch of your face, studying your expression like he’d find the answer to his question there. You knew the exact moment that he found it, too.

Shit.

You picked up your bowl of cereal, stiffening your posture as you took careful steps backwards. “Nope! Nothing. I’m not hiding anything!” You sounded as suspicious as ever, so your escape route needed to be hasty. You opened and closed the fridge with just enough time to throw the milk in before rushing off to your bedroom.

This wasn’t the first time you’d gotten these intrusive–romantic thoughts about Peter Parker, or when you’d gotten these frantic–giddy jitters around him, either. Typically, you just let them die out over a day or two and then you could find your little pocket of comfort and normalcy again.

But the second you entered your room, you saw the framed photo of what you assumed was the photo Sam took of you and Peter passed out on the couch. The second you saw it, you knew this wouldn’t die out as quickly as you’d hoped. You couldn’t lie, though…It was a pretty cute photo. Although, you didn’t have too much time to dwell on the captured moment. The neon–pink sticky note on the top right corner caught your attention.

‘I better get invited to the wedding, —Sam.’

Shit.

[morganwrites12672]

2000 - Eighteen Years Old

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Everything is going great between her and Dean whenever Sam says something that ruins it all.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Injury (not received during the fic). Kissing. Angst. ANGST. Crying.

A/N: I hope that you guys enjoyed the last part being happy... And, here's a link to the series master list: 𝕆𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤

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It wasn't uncommon for her to be left with Dean and Sam while her father hunted with John. Ever since she had finally turned eighteen, it had been though. The only reason she wasn't helping on the hunt was the pesky wound across her calf.

Having a werewolves claws slash through her calf hadn't been pleasant in the slightest. And, to make matters even worse, her father wouldn't even consider letting her anywhere danger. Being stuck in a motel sucked. There was no sugar coating it.

The buzzing of the A.C. unit filled the room. The old motel smelled like stale beer and a pine forest. The pleasant smell of pine was probably because of where they were. Being surrounded by the forest was an eerie, but peaceful, thing.

Everything was fine, ignoring how boring it was. Dean's presence was slightly confusing though. He had had the opportunity to go hunt with John and her father. She knew why he had turned it down though. Her. She hadn't expected it in the slightest.

Being stuck in a piece of shit motel with his little brother didn't sound like something that she thought she was worth. Still, it was nice to know though. She had desperately tried to find an excuse to be alone with Dean. It hasn't been working out in her favor so far.

Even if Sam was now plenty old enough to drive since he'd recently turned seventeen (and gotten his license),there was no way in Hell that Dean would hand over the keys to Baby for any reason. That would be suspicious anyways.

Dean had spent plenty of time planning though. He had figured out exactly how to get her alone, even if it wouldn't be for very long.

Whenever Sam had went outside to read, Dean had jumped on the opportunity. He found her lounging on the couch, an old paperback with a worn cover in her lap. Spending days on end in motels had taught her how to keep herself busy on the days that never seemed to end.

"Sam's outside," Dean said as nonchalantly as he could, sitting down on the couch. He leaned back into the thin cushions. At least the motel even has a couch. They had gotten lucky.

"Ah," she said quietly, finally placing her bookmark onto the page she had been reading. As she leaned forward to set her book down on the small coffee table in front of her, she looked down at her calf. A small bandage was still wrapped around where the wound was. Even if it wasn't that deep and half healed, it still burned if she moved the wrong way.

"He took a book," Dean added. "He's probably going to be gone for a little while."

Her head tilted ever so slightly as she looked over to Dean. A coy smile stretched her lips. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize what Dean meant. She couldn't blame him either. They hadn't been a long together in what felt like months (even if their last make out session had been a few weeks ago).

She sat closer to Dean, her bare thigh now resting against his denim clad leg. All Dean could think about was how much he loved summer and the reduced length of her clothing during the hottest months.

She was close enough for Dean to catch the aroma of her perfume. He inhaled deeply before his eyes raked over her body. He wished that there was more time to spend with her right now.

Understanding the time crunch they were in, he wasted no time at all.

His hand snaked around her waist, pulling her into his lap. Her breath caught in her throat as she found herself perched on top of his thigh. One of his arms wrapped around her waist, the other one around her neck as he pulled her in even closer.

"We don't have long," she murmured softly as Dean's lips inched closer to hers.

Dean didn't reply, instead choosing to press his lips against hers. His lips swallowed up the small gasp that had slipped past her lips as he finally kissed her. He was careful to make sure that he didn't accidentally brush up against the bright white bandage that was wrapped around her calf. Even if all he could think about was the feeling of her sitting in his lap, he still made sure to be careful.

Her arms wrapped around Dean's neck as she deepened the kiss. Their lips moved against each other, not even stopping for a breath. The kiss was breathless and desperate. Dean kissed her like a man starved of the taste of her lips. And, he had been for the past few weeks. These last few weeks had felt like literal Hell for Dean. Being without her was like being without water. He couldn't survive without either thing for long.

He gripped her tightly against him, finally breaking the kiss. His chest heaved as he began trying to catch his breath. The adrenaline rush that she gave him was addictive. If she was a drug then Dean was already hooked, desperate for anything from her. Every taste of her had him begging for more.

Every brush of his fingers over the bare expanse of her neck sent shivers down her spine. She wanted more. No, she needed more.

"Dean-" her desperate words were cut off as the sound of the front door jiggling made her jolt in surprise. She darted off of Dean's lap and sat on the couch across from him. The door finally opened, it wasn't surprising that it had taken Sam so long though. The key kept getting stuck, or the door would jam.

Sam walked into the small living room just as she sat down on the couch opposite of Dean. The younger Winchester brother was clueless as he sat down next to her. He didn't notice her lust blown pupils, or the throw pillow on Dean's lap.

"Bobby called me while I was reading," Sam told her.

His words made her realize that her own cellphone was still in the kitchen. Her father had probably tried calling her whenever she had been sitting in Dean's lap, far too distracted to hear the ringing. The thought made her cheeks blush pink in embarrassment.

"Why?" Dean said a bit too harshly. He was still pissed off that Sam had walked in so quickly. He never had any space.

Sam shrugged, "Making sure that we were all alive."

Dean abruptly stood and walked into the kitchen. He needed a quick break. Probably a cold shower too. Anything to help him calm down. And to distract him from what it had felt like whenever her arms had been wrapped around his neck. He slammed the fridge door shut once he had grabbed the last beer.

She stayed in the living room, conversing with Sam. The younger Winchester had always been fond of her presence, not in the same way as Dean was though. The two brothers liked her for completely different and opposite reasons.

Sam enjoyed her presence, he enjoyed being her friend. Dean enjoyed the feeling of her lips against his. The two brothers had very different thoughts about her.

"Did I tell you about what happened in Texas?" Sam suddenly asked her. "You should have seen Dean! He tried hitting on this waitress and-" Sam stopped speaking whenever he saw the look on her face.

One look at her expression told Sam that she didn't like the idea of Dean flirting with random waitresses. He hadn't realized that this would have been such a sensitive topic. If he had, he probably would have kept his mouth shut. Not to protect Dean from her wrath, no to protect her from the hurt she was now facing.

It felt like her heart had been ripped out and left on the floor. Dean meant everything to her. Finding out that he didn't feel the same way made her sick. All sorts of anxiety thrashed around inside of her gut. Her jaw tightened as she stared at Sam.

"Does he do that a lot?" She asked in a tight, controlled voice. She wouldn't cry in front of Sam.

"H-he doesn't," Sam said quickly, the lie being easy to spot.

Dean had caught the last few sentences of the conversation and froze. He tossed the new empty bottle of beer in the trash can and almost ran into the living room. He spotted the heartbreak blatantly obvious on her face and hesitated. He didn't have time to say anything to Sam, his younger brother was already making his way out of the room. Probably a good idea. Dean didn't want to yell at the boy.

She stood, standing in front of Dean. He wouldn't let her walk away without an explanation. Even if he couldn't think of a good one. All of the flirting he did was completely harmless, he wasn't cheating on her. Dean might attempt to flirt with any girl in a twelve mile radius, but he wouldn't do something that horrible. Not whenever he cared about her so much.

Dean called out her name, she ignored him.

"Dean, I don't want to hear it!" She snapped, unshed tears stinging her eyes and making her throat burn.

"I'm not cheating on you! I-It's harmless, I swear."

She walked past Dean, slapping away his hand whenever it darted out to grab her wrist. All of the words that Dean yelled after her sounded muffled, like her head was underwater. It felt like she was drowning in a sea of her own misery. All of her time with Dean now made her wince. She didn't look back on those memories with a smile anymore.

The front door was almost within her grasp now.

Only a few more steps and she could leave. She wasn't sure where she would go yet, only that she couldn't bear to stay in the motel with Dean for another second. The quick pace made her wound strain, her calf tensing. The throbbing sensation was at the back of her mind. The physical pain pales in comparison to the galing hole in her chest where her heart used to be.

"I never want to see you again!" She yelled as Dean grabbed a hold of her wrist before she could walk out the door.

Her words made his heart drop. He knew that she had every right to be msd. That didn't make him want to let her go right now. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and tell her that everything would be okay. It was painfully obvious that that wouldn't be happening.

"You have to-" Dean's words were almost instantly cut off.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she found her voice again. "I don't have to do anything for you! I loved you Dean. I really did," her voice crackled as she spoke. "A-and you never really cared. Not enough to stop flirting with every girl you meet!"

Her angry, hurt words were enough for Dean to drop her wrist. He stood there in silence, his jaw slack, as he watched her storm out the front door. He watched her leave, and suddenly regretted every single time he'd exchanged a few flirty words with a random girl.

She didn't know where she was going, only that she wasn't going back to that motel room. She couldn't face Dean. But, she also couldn't stay out of the motel. Her phone, wallet, and all of her other belongings were in there. Maybe she would have remembered to grab them if she hadn't been in such a rush.

She would go back later. That was what she planned to do, until she saw the motel door open. Sam walked out, her duffel bag in hand. His eyes were brimmed with tears as he walked across the parking lot to where she stood.

"I-I'm so sorry," Sam whispered as he handed her the bag.

"It's not your fault Sammy. Don't blame yourself for what your brother did," She said with a sniffle. She swallowed the lump in her throat, willing herself to be strong in front of Sam.

Sam threw his arms around her, a sob escaping out of his throat. It made her heart ache even more than it already did. She wasn't just leaving Dean, she was also leaving Sam. The younger Winchester boy wouldn't see her for a while.

"T-tell me I'll see you again soon." His voice cracked and shook with every word as he finally pulled away from the hug.

Lying to Sam hurt. She did it anyway.

"You'll see me again soon, really soon." Her promise was nothing but bullshit. She wouldn't be going anywhere near a Winchester for a while. It would hurt too much. The pain was still so raw and twisted in her gut. Unlocking her car made her realize how permanent this would be.

"Tell my dad I'm going home if he calls and I'm not in the rang of service." Her last words to Sam before she left were painful. Every word felt like she was choking on it. Her throat burned.

She let the tears fall freely as she tore out of the parking lot. Guilt and pain tore her apart.

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading!

Tag List: @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @lmhf1 @espressovz @illicithallways @tranquilitybasegrunge @ryoiii @delulu-101

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[killerlookz]

Hello my fellow Criminal Minds fan! 😊

May I please request headcanons for Spencer falling for a female agent who’s cynical about love and relationships due to being hurt in the past?

a/n: thank you sm for the request! i'd be happy to write this for you! :-)

Falling in Love Again | Spencer Reid Headcannons

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader

content: mentions of reader having been cheated on in the past, uhhhh that's really it haha

word count: 1,478 (sorry she's so long)

Spencer Reid had always been excited about falling in love, the thought of being so close to another person- to share so much with someone was such a wonderful thing to him.

Especially after watching his mom and dad growing up, and the way his father treated her-Spencer was dead set on never becoming anything like him, he looked forward to treating a woman right and spending the rest of his life with her.

But, for as excited as he was he was probably 20 times more nervous about the whole falling in love thing.

So when you came around, and he started to experience that warm, creeping feeling in his chest- he felt a little bit like his world was going to end.

Spencer had never made a move on anyone before, sure he did make out with Lila Archer that one time but he didn't exactly initiate it.

Spencer decided just to channel all of his romantic interest in becoming friends with you, at least he got to spend time with you, that's what really mattered to him. Maybe one day it would turn into something more.

Well.. he hoped until he couldn't help but overhear...

"I went on my first date in months last night, and all this guy did was talk about himself the entire time- didn't let me get a word out, I mean, can you believe it?" Emily says, exasperated

You look up at her as she stands in front of your desk, "Oh, trust me Emily, I can believe it." You shake your head

"I mean," She throws her hands up, "What is it with men? What's wrong with them."

"Everything," You smirk, "They're men. I can't remember I had a good experience with one of them- never maybe?" You laugh. "I've given up on dating."

Your words sunk into Spencer's brain, leaving him with a heavy feeling all around he felt awful- not just about the fact that his chances with you seemed to reduce to zero right there in that moment, but because of how upset you seemed under your sarcastic exterior, he could tell you'd really been hurt before.

A few weeks later you're out for drinks with Emily, Penelope, Morgan, Spencer, and JJ. Amidst the loud, drunken conversations and music at the bar- you can hear the faint chiming sounds of your ring tone, Who would be calling this late?

As you take your phone from your pocket, your stomach drops when you see the number flashing on the screen. The mere sight of those 10 digits making you want to throw your phone to the ground and stomp on it until nothing remains.

"Ooooh, who's that calling." Morgan smirks

You look him dead in the eyes and respond flatly, "My ex."

Morgan's smile doesn't fade instead his smirk seems to deepen, "You two got a little thang goin on?"

"No," You shove your phone back in your pocket, "More like he's trying to get back in my pants after cheating on me- twice."

"Ooh!" Morgan responds, wincing, "So he's a dog."

"A pig is more like it." You scoff, "Who does he think he is. I can't even imagine giving my time to another man again, and even if I could- what makes him so confident I'd give him the time of day."

That familiar heavy pain hits Spencer again.

He's staring at you, and it's like the rest of the bar doesn't even exist. Only you, as you bite your lip, trying to hide any emotion in your face.

Spencer has become good at reading your emotions, maybe it's because he spends so much time with you- maybe it's because of how often he finds himself staring at your face. As much as you try to seem nonchalant, he could tell how upset you are.

Spencer would spend more time than he wanted to admit fantasizing about treating you well, about giving you the love you never seemed to have.

Every time you made a snarky comment about love, or how men had treated you in the past Spencer would want so desperately bad to just tell you about how well he would treat you, how he would never ever hurt you, how he would spend his entire life taking care of you.

The words were practically scratching up his throat, begging to be let out. But still, he would just swallow them down, and give you a sympathetic look, he couldn't muster up being able to do anything more.

At the very least, Spencer's plan of becoming friends with you was working.

The two of you would become very good friends.

Spencer would learn everything he could about you, he would want to know as much as possible.

Not in a weird creepy way- but in a he just thinks you're so amazing he can't get enough of you sort of way.

Every time you and Spencer hung out he wouldn't be able to ignore that nagging feeling, the thought of putting an arm around you and pulling you close, of holding your hand in his, or placing a delicate kiss on your cheek.

The thoughts would eat away at Spencer, and he would only fall more, and more in love with you.

Still, he would lose more hope every time you divulged information about your prior encounters with love. He couldn't blame you for feeling so cynical it, not after what you'd been through.

Spencer would think about his mom, about all the wives Rossi had been through, about Hotch and Hailey, about you- he would wonder why love had to be so painful for some people. He was sure he would never hurt somebody he loved.

One day you're over Spencer's apartment, watching a rom-com, and you make a snide remark, "Oh, real love isn't like that." You scoff and roll your eyes.

Spencer doesn't know what it is, but something in him makes him respond, "It could be." He says meekly

You look up at him, caught off guard at his disagreement, "Hm?" you hum

Spencer wasn't able to take it any more, he hated hearing your cynical nature. He would need you to know how you deserved the entire world.

"Love- It can be like the movies." He affirms his stance.

"Not in my experience."

"I would give you love like that." Spencer would tremble as he makes his confession, so unsure of what would happen next.

He would be terrified of your reaction, scared he was about to mess everything up, ruin any future the two of you had together, and even worse, lose your friendship.

"W-what do you mean, Spence."

"I mean, you always talk about how you've been hurt before, and it just-" He takes a deep breath in, contemplating what he's going to say next, "I love you, y/n," He looks down at his lap, then back up at you, "I would never hurt you."

Despite the obvious passion in Spencer's voice, you were still hesitant about it, but everything inside of you told you to give Spencer a chance.

Spencer would insist on taking things slow, you were his first real relationship and he wouldn't want to rush things, for both his and yours sake. He wouldn't pressure you to put a label on things, or even say you're "dating"- those would come on your own time.

Spencer was determined to make you believe in love again, and he would do everything in his power to make sure you knew without a doubt how he felt about you.

Spencer would often get to work before you to surprise you with coffee and a breakfast sandwich, or a donut on your desk in the mornings.

He would insist on having a date night at least once a week, even if the two of you were on a case, ordering room service or finding a local pizza restaurant way late at night was sufficient, as long as the two of you got to spend time together.

Spencer would be hesitant about PDA or really moving too quickly into being too affectionate, still, he would frequently hold your hand, squeezing it tight when he could tell you were stressed or upset- either by a case or by life in general, he just wanted to give you that extra reassurance that he was there for you.

Spencer would really put the work in, he'd exert more effort than you had ever seen from any past relationship into even the tiniest things.

Spencer wouldn't mind though, anything he could do to reassure you that he loves and cares about you, he would do it.

Every little act of love and gratitude would be worth it to him.

He would savor and cherish every hug, every shared glance, every peck on the forehead, on the cheek, on the lips.

It was all worth it to him, every second of it- all he wanted to do was make you smile, to make you fall in love again.