#me an hour and a half later unable to let it go:

[damagecompilation]

i wish i could be sane and then i remember @protcg thinking jason todd and batman was marvel

[pepprs]

im home and already swallowed by despair. can you believe i was in CHICAGO a few hours ago. and now im here. lol

[nochepsicodelica]

You're tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep in any position you lie in. Every time you turn, Toji accommodates to your new position, but you never last in one position long enough for him to stay asleep.

"Do you not want me to cuddle you or something?" He asks, opening his tired eyes for the nth time that night.

"No, you're good," you respond, turning onto your side, again. He sighs, hoping this will be the position you finally fall asleep in. He latches onto your back, wrapping his arm around you before shutting his eyes. Two minutes later, you're wiggling around, again, turning onto your stomach. Your arms wrap around your pillow, and you rest the side of your face on it. Toji always has to be touching some part of you when he sleeps, so he throws his arm over your back. He clicks his tongue when, once again, you flip onto your back.

"What, baby? Why are you moving around so much?" He's trying not to let his tiredness control his attitude towards you, but you've been doing this for almost half an hour now.

"I can't sleep. I close my eyes and nothing happens. It's just dark," you explain.

"Well, try again, ma. You wake up too early to be going to sleep so late."

You do as he says, and try again. Your arms rest on your stomach and you try to stay as still as possible with your eyes shut. Suddenly, your feet feel too warm and you feel the urge to find a cool spot on the blanket, so you shift your legs. You feel like your head is in an awkward position on your pillow, like you're sinking backwards and your neck is uncomfortable because of it. You feel like turning back onto your side and curling up, so you do just that, letting Toji's arm slide off your chest.

"Shift one more time," he grumbles, turning his body towards your back, again, draping his arm over your waist. He's tired of hearing the sheets rustle with every move you make.

You heed his warning, and stay still for the longest you have in a minute. Toji thinks you may have finally fallen asleep, and feels safe to doze off, as well.

Then, you flip onto your other side, snapping the last string of Toji's patience. Without a single warning, you're being pulled until you're flat on top of him, your face buried in his chest. His arms wrap around you, fastening your body against his and he crosses his legs over yours, securing them. He can feel you fidgeting in his hold, still trying to move.

"Stop, mama," he says, holding you tighter. "Just breathe."

You still and try to focus on the sound of his heartbeat. It's steady, like the rise and fall of his chest. He smells good and his skin is comfortably warm. His arms apply a relaxing amount of pressure on your back. You don't feel unsteady as you remain balanced on top of him. Your eyelids feel heavy and your breathing is replicating the rhythm of his. Your heartbeat is slowing as you calm down and you release all the tension in your body, allowing yourself to go limp. Your eyelids fall shut and all that can be heard are the soft sounds of you breathing through your nose. Both of you finally get to rest.

[arolesbianism]

Nothing quite like standing around in my 3d animation class for a full hour talking to my teacher abt the usa's long long history of horrific violence

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 2

in which fem!reader is feeling insecure about how inexperienced she is around spencer's friends and seeks his expertise to amend the problem

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, oral f receiving, (MUNCH!SPENCE RETURNS), fingering, (very) insecure reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, nipple stuff, kinda sorta implied age gap, god i'm probably forgetting things pls lmk if i missed something important a/n: i've been laboring at this bad boy every day for so long i had to immediately post once it was completed lol. there will be a part three ... maybe i already started it ..... anyway i love u guys and i hope this is a satisfactory part two!! PLS lmk if you liked it!! hearing from u makes my day :')

When Spencer dropped you off at Penelope’s apartment for your first girl’s night—the hostess had promised you, JJ, and Emily lots of gossip sans 'icky men'—you had been ecstatic. You wouldn’t stop rambling to him about how excited you were. 

When he picks you up two and a half hours later, he can hardly get a word out of you. 

It’s not his fault, of course—well, not really, anyway. It’s just that all the girls had wanted to talk about was sex. A topic on which you held very little expertise and had essentially nothing to contribute. Out of the four, you were the only non-FBI agent, the youngest, and undoubtedly the least experienced. It was like high school all over again, except you actually desperately wanted to impress Spencer’s friends. All in all, you weaseled your way out of sharing without giving away that you were still very much a virgin. Sure, you could have said ‘we did hand stuff two weeks ago’, but you had a feeling these women wouldn’t consider that very impressive. 

But you can’t easily relay that information to Spencer—even when he immediately picks up on your sullen mood. He asks you what’s wrong as you make your way down the echoey staircase, but you hold back, muttering something along the lines of we’ll talk about it later. 

Later doesn’t come on the sidewalk outside. It doesn’t come in the car, or at any point during the twenty minute drive, but you feel it rapidly approaching as you climb the stairs to Spencer’s apartment. He unlocks the door and holds it open for you, doesn’t speak as you kick off your shoes and wander aimlessly into the living room.

“Did you eat?” He finally asks, hanging his keys on a hook by the door and glancing over to where you linger in the center of the room like a ghost. 

“Not hungry.”

You both know that wasn’t the question, but he lets it go. 

“Alright... well, I was thinking—“

“Why haven’t we had sex?”

The question flies from your mouth before you can stop it. It tastes like metal and you wish you could take it back as you stand there, cheeks hot and awaiting a reply. It seems you’ve thoroughly astonished Spencer as he gapes at you like a fish out of water for several silent moments, eventually opting to shove his hands in his pockets and shake his head at the wall as he processes the question. 

“I… I don’t know. We just haven’t. Does that bother you?”

Suddenly your whole body feels intolerably warm. Your fingers twitch against your thighs. Of course it bothers you. 

“Do you just not want to? You aren’t attracted to me like that?”

God, you despise how fragile your voice sounds—how much you obviously care, how insecure you clearly are. Spencer picks up on it, despite your most fervent wishing that he wouldn’t, and approaches, stopping a few feet away. You stare at the span of oriental design on the floor between your feet. 

“That’s not at all what I said, angel. I wish you wouldn’t put words in my mouth.”

“Well, then… say something else,” you plead quietly, childishly, still unable to meet his eyes. Prove me wrong. 

He sighs, which does not bode well for you. You wonder if you accidentally triggered the early demise of your relationship and christ do you wish you could rewind. When he steps closer, when his hands find your arms, you’re not sure where to look. But the low, sweet tone of his voice entices you to finally meet his gaze, charmed like a snake as his eyes dart between yours. 

“You know that’s not how I feel.”

You shake your head earnestly, looking up at him with wide eyes as he slowly rubs your arms. 

“No. No, I don’t know that.”

Spencer frowns, glancing at your lips as he speaks. It’s impossible to not do the same when he’s standing so close. 

“But I’ve told you. I don’t understand how you couldn’t know how far from the truth that is.”

You think back to two weeks ago—the first and only time he’d ever done anything more than kiss you. A different kind of flush replaces the shameful one in your cheeks as you try to make your case and not get distracted by the memories of his hands all over you.

“So why won’t you prove it?”

It’d been intended to come out cool, but instead you sound a little desperate, a little out of breath as you realize you and Spencer somehow ended up so close to each other you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. 

“Is that what you need from me? More proof?”

He speaks so lowly, his fingers press into the flesh of your arms portentously, and you think maybe you’ve poked the bear one too many times. But you won’t back down now—not when you think you might actually get what you want. 

So you look up at him and nod, throat too dry to speak. His eyes are deceptively soft, but you don’t miss the big bad something lurking just beneath the surface of the placid hazel. 

“And how do you think I should prove it?”

“I told you what I want,” you whisper, speaking above your pounding heart. 

“Not tonight, honey. Choose something else.”

“Well—that’s not fair,” you stammer, “the whole point is for you to want to have sex with me.”

Spencer smiles a little, tucking hair behind your ear. “I do want that. I promise you I do. But there are other things I want us to do first.”

“Then I want to do that, too! I just—I don’t know what I’m doing, and you do, and I’m already out on a limb by asking for this much. I know this is what I want but I need you to take the lead here. I trust you, Spencer.” You top off the monologue with an imploring gaze—hoping it delivers even a fraction of the impact that his puppy-dog eyes always have on you. 

He seems to study every square inch of your face as you wait in suspense for him to say something. At long last, his lips part—to no avail for several more seconds as he regards you. 

When the words finally do come, they’re an immense relief of pressure. 

“You’re going to promise me that you’ll communicate honestly. That means telling me if we need to slow down or stop, or if you don’t like something—”

“I promise,” you say, perhaps over-eagerly, offering him your extended little finger. 

An incredulous smile narrows his eyes. 

“Is this a pinky-promise?”

“It is.” You wiggle the finger in emphasis, and he shakes his head, smiling wider as you link pinkies. 

“I left you with Garcia for far too long.”

You shush him, disentangling your hands to cup his jaw and press your lips to his. It’s sweet and smiley until it isn’t—until everything slows down like sticky molasses and his hand is ghosting over your cheek, your neck, the curve of your waist, finally substantiating itself on your hip—the other encouraging you to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss and you feel yourself melting under the heat of his touch. 

The pressure of his body against yours builds until you’re forced to take a step back, and then another, and another. Without question you allow yourself to be herded toward the bedroom, walked slowly backward as he keeps kissing you and blindly trusting he’ll make sure you don’t run in to anything. The bedroom door clicks shut behind him, and it is in all practicality a pointless gesture—but you find it incredibly comforting nonetheless.  

It’s too warm beneath your sweater and his hands are cool as they slip under the hem, sliding against the curve of your hip. Spencer’s never seen you without a shirt, you realize, as he pulls away from the kiss by only centimeters.  

“Off?” he mutters, thumbing at the knit fabric. And while you’re far from confident, you’ve certainly been making progress in this area. You help him tug it over your head without a word, noting a distinct and surprising lack of terror within yourself as you watch for his reaction to you. Hands glide slowly up your waist and you find yourself enchanted by the slight furrow of his brow, the parting of his lips. He traces down the lacy edge of your bra, skimming sensitive skin as he goes. 

“Pretty,” he murmurs. “You’re… so pretty.”

It seems you’ve rendered him uncharacteristically prosaic. The reaction might be underwhelming if it were anyone else—but Spencer Reid is a man who probably knows every synonym for pretty in the English language. Looking at you, he can’t think of a single one. In an odd way, it’s the highest compliment he could pay you. Your cheeks heat and your stomach flips as he drags a knuckle up the center of the cup, and you can feel it through the layers of lace and fabric. He leans forward, ghosting his lips over yours and continuing to run his fingers over the sensitive spot. “Do you know how pretty you are?”

This is one argument you will not be winning—one he’ll keep bringing up at the most inopportune times until he gets his way. 

“Spencer…”

“Don’t Spencer me. I’m asking you a question.”

The words don’t seem nearly as harsh as they really are when they’re delivered velvet-soft, with his lips and hands on you—when he’s so deftly popping the button on your jeans and dragging the zipper down with all the quickness of a slight-of-hand. It makes it hard to focus, even harder to speak. 

“We have… we have differing views on this matter.”

Generous handfuls of your hips and ass are taken as he helps you tug down your jeans before you kick them off, now left just in your underwear. 

“I thought I argued my point fairly well last time you were here. You didn’t learn anything from that?”

“Mm… maybe you just need to remind me.”

“Oh, I think I have to,” he agrees through a smile you can only hear. Gentle fingers skim up your back and tap the clasp of your bra. “How about this? Can we take this off?”

Any confidence from earlier crumbles and you loose a nervous hum—which is not the enthusiastic yes you’re sure Spencer will be seeking all evening. He pulls away, features etched with the beginnings of concern and a searching gaze. Asking would be unnecessary; the words simply come tumbling out of you. 

“What if you don’t like how I look?”

Spencer doesn’t even blink.

“That’s not going to happen.”

How you wish you could have the same assuredness in yourself that he seems to. 

“But what if… what if you’ve been with other girls who are more, like—I don’t know, just—better? Prettier?”

“Honey, you’re—” a sigh, a pause as he searches for the words—his eyes dart up and down your form, assessing, and when he looks back up at you, they’ve cleared and softened. He pulls you a little closer, rubbing circles into your back with his thumb. “I’m not thinking about anyone else right now. I’m not interested in anyone else right now. I already think you’re perfect, and I’m going to keep thinking that regardless of how you look. When I look at you, I’m not looking for things to critique. Do you understand me?”

As far as sentiments go, it’s a nice one. But the pressure of being seen still feels like an impossible burden. You whine, leaning your head against Spencer’s chest. He accepts your weight and runs his hand over your back as you look up at him. 

“But what if I’m hideously deformed?”

His eyebrows raise. 

“You’re not.”

“But what if I am?”

“Okay. It seems like you don’t feel ready yet, which is completely fine, we just won’t—”

“No!” you protest. “I am ready. I am. But… you have to promise to be nice to me no matter what. Or break up with me if you don’t like what you see so I don't have to wonder.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, kissing you, “and the only thing I’m willing to promise is that I’ll think you’re perfect. Me being nice will come as a natural byproduct of that which is very different than being nice by artifice. Take it or leave it.”

A moment of hesitance—but it’s short-lived. This is more important than your insecurities. Spencer is more important. 

“Take it,” you mumble against his lips. His fingers trace up the smooth skin of your back, all the way to the fabric and metal hooks on your bra. 

“Thank you.”

You wouldn’t have thought Spencer’s genius would manifest in being really good at undoing the clasp of a bra, but you can truly say you’re impressed by the ease with which he does it. It falls to the floor, leaving you completely shirtless for the first time in front of him. 

“Well?” you murmur, arms crossed defensively underneath your chest, because you understand overtop would sort of ruin the whole thing. “What’s the verdict?”

“You,” Spencer manages after a moment—you literally watch him memorizing every square inch of your body— “are ridiculously beautiful.”

The way his voice gets quieter makes your stomach flip. It sounds genuine. Too genuine to be faked. 

“So… no breakup?”

It seems that the more vulnerable you feel, the less likely you are to take a compliment. Spencer, who is always seeking patterns, probably recognizes this one, and doesn’t push you so hard this time. After a silent moment, he sighs and cradles your face in his hands. 

“You’re gorgeous. I hate how incapable you are of seeing that. We’re going to talk about this.”

“Yeah, but not right now, right?” you murmur, standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him. 

“Not right now,” he agrees. 

His lips are so soft and gentle against your own it feels like love, it feels like being talked down from the ledge of your own insanity. Somehow the way he strokes your hip feels more nurturing than sexual. It’s like he has sex and chaste affection on tap, able to turn them on and off at will. You’re happy to drown in either. Ideally, both.

After a while, his hands begin roaming farther, become bolder in their excursions over your flesh. Up, down, over your waist and ribs. Clearly Spencer had been trying to ease you into it, but you still can’t hide your sharp inhalation when his thumbs graze the sensitive skin of your breasts. He pulls his lips from yours, hands splayed over your sides. 

“Sit down.”

It’s much too gentle to be a command, but you frown. 

“Without you?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles, lightly squeezing your waist. “Just sit. Utilize patience.”

You sit on the edge of the bed with an atypical reticence—you’re just a little too nervous for a snippy comeback. Spencer picks up on this, features softening sympathetically as he undoes his tie with nimble fingers. It lands somewhere on the bed and he leans over you, resting his weight on his fists and offering you a quick kiss. His voice is soft and designed to soothe as he speaks, mere inches away from your face, and so quiet it could only be heard at this range. 

“Are you nervous?” Cloth from the duvet pinches between your fingers. For a moment you don’t reply, dropping your head to watch when Spencer runs his hand over your thigh. “It’s okay if you’re feeling anxious, baby. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

You expel a frustrated huff. 

“I want to. Just because I’m nervous doesn’t mean I don’t want this. I can handle a little bit of anxiety.”

He hums, dropping to a crouch and inserting himself directly in your line of sight. 

“I know you can. But you don’t always have to push yourself so hard.”

“I’m fine pushing myself a little. I pinky-promised I would tell you if I wanted to stop, remember?”

“Oh, how could I forget a pinky-promise?” he smiles. 

How could you forget anything, you think, becoming flushed and silently insolent at his dulcet teasing. 

“Please, do something.” It’s a whisper, brushing his lips as you lean down until you’re nose to nose. His hands are on the back of your legs. 

“I’m working on it.”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“You’re smart, angel. Tell me why I've got you naked on my bed and I’m kneeling in front of you. Where could I possibly be taking this?”

Oh, you have a pretty strong inkling—but you’re scared to voice it and be wrong. Instead of risking it you shake your head slowly, shyly. What you’re not expecting is for Spencer to duck his head down, slide his hands up the side of your thighs and press kisses to the delicate skin there. It feels good—better than you’d have thought. 

“You don’t know?” he asks, looking up at you through burnished gold-rimmed pupils. “No guesses?”

“No guesses,” you agree breathlessly, hotter than you were when you had your clothes on and all the energy in your body condensed into one point between your legs. Spencer hums like he’s considering your answer, smoothing his thumbs over the soft skin of your thighs so gently it feels like burning. 

“I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful. Lie back, sweetheart.”

You do as you’re told, scooting up on the mattress and falling back on your elbows. Spencer wastes no time in climbing over you, leaving you in much the same position as the last time you’d been in his bed. The sheets feel cool against your bare skin, but he is exceptionally warm and solid over you. 

“I’m being honest.” Lie. “I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

Lips find the most sensitive spot of your neck, dancing over it torturously. The front of his shirt brushes your chest. Your thighs clamp together. 

“I don't like being lied to. Just say it, baby. I know you know.”

“Spencer,” you whine, fists bunching the excess fabric around his waist. Warm breath condensates on the skin of your neck as he chuckles. 

“You don’t like being teased, huh?”

“Please, Spence,” you whisper. You notice the pattern of his breathing pause momentarily before it all comes rushing out at once—and you catalogue that particular plea for later usage. 

“I can’t say no when you ask me like that.”

You push your fingers into his soft hair. 

“I know.”

It was a lucky guess. 

He’s still for a moment, relishing the feeling of your hands in his hair, before darting up to kiss you. 

“I’m going to use my mouth this time,” he murmurs against your lips. Though you knew that was what he intended, your heart stumbles in its perpetual march. “Is that okay?”

“What if I…”

You trail off. This is a very intimate situation which you’re not quite sure you have delicate enough language for. Or maybe you’re just stalling. Either way, Spencer is eternally patient with you. 

“You need to stop worrying so much, pretty girl. I’d love to do this for you. But it’s your call.”

“Love is a pretty strong word.”

“Sometimes I think not strong enough.”

The way he’s looking down at you so tenderly, brushing hair from your face, makes you think maybe he’s not just talking about how much he would love to go down on you. Regardless, it fortifies your trust in him. Spencer is the kindest person you know. He’s so clearly an enthusiastic giver. Why not allow him to give you this? 

“Okay,” you breathe. “You can—yeah.”

As usual, you’re impressively awkward, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, you think he not-so-secretly delights in being the one to fluster instead of the other way around. Rarely has he mentioned his past romantic and sexual exploits, but gathering bits and pieces, you assume he was a fairly late bloomer. He probably knows what it’s like to be nervous and so deeply unsure of yourself. 

“Do you remember what you promised me?” he whispers, pressing butterfly-light kisses to your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut as his lips traverse down your neck, teeth skimming over the delicate skin while your breath catches. 

“Mhm.”

“You’re not gonna break that promise, are you?”

His voice, soft and muffled by your skin, is the most exhilarating and disorienting high. Your entire body buzzes with anticipation, satisfied only where his lips soothe and his body presses against yours. It takes a moment for you to remember to reply. 

“No.”

Reward comes in the form of his thumb brushing over the peak of your breast at the same time as he murmurs, “good girl.”

Your stomach flips at the endearment—you squeak and arch into him slightly. Spencer’s hand slides down your ribs as he chuckles, lips pressed just above your collarbone. 

“You’ve never called me that before,” you shudder as he continues kissing over your neck. 

“It’s not appropriate in most conversational contexts. But I can tell you’ve always been good.”

“Really? How?”

Spencer pauses, pushing himself up to regard you with searching eyes. The places he’d kissed feel cold without him. 

“I just can. You’re thinking too much, baby. I need your focus on me.”

“It is on you,” you huff. 

You watch his expression shift minutely. He loves games. Of course he’d love playing with you. That knowledge is why you’re only partially surprised when his thumb catches on your nipple again. 

“Is it? You’re only thinking about how it feels when I touch you here?”

A stammering nod. 

He toys with the sensitive flesh only a second more, amusement lighting his eyes, before dragging his hand down, down, down until it’s between your legs. Fingers trail over your clothed core, skimming the most sensitive part of you while your breath hitches.  

“Tell me how it feels when I touch you here.”

“Really good,” you admit, a heavy exhale escaping parted lips as he pins you with his gaze. 

“Really good, right. I can make it feel even better. Do you want me to make it feel better?”

Your thighs drop fully open and he adds just a bit more pressure until you’re pushing against his hand in search of more friction. 

“Yes please.”

“Then no more questions. I need you to trust me.”

Your answer is a breathy, dreamy sigh—you’d do anything, say anything for him. 

“Okay.”

Spencer kisses you, absorbing your noises of protest as his hand ceases between your legs and settles on your hip. But you’re trusting him. No whiny complaining. No unnecessary questions. 

Things go much quicker once you’re not interrupting him every twenty seconds to say something. His lips reattach to your neck, retracing their path (albeit quicker) until he’s below your collarbone. You watch in rapt fascination, twisted brows and parted lips as he peppers kisses down over your breast before dragging his tongue over your nipple. A jolted little moan spills out because you hadn’t been prepared to hold one in. Waves of hair fall over Spencer’s face, obscuring him from your vision, but you don’t think to push it away—your body is too busy processing the sensation to be much use on any other front. He darts his tongue over the peaked flesh, eliciting more little open-mouthed exhalations of pleasure from you. Earlier you hadn’t really thought it necessary for your bra to come off—you had no idea this could actually feel so good. A moment later he begins toying with the other nipple and you gasp as a bolt of heat goes straight to your core. 

You curse, further words catching in your throat as he suddenly switches, mouthing at your other breast and letting the cold air chill the other until you have goosebumps. It feels a little like hypnosis—you’re unable to move or speak as his tongue laves over you. Soon he’s replacing his mouth with a thumb again, sucking a mark onto your tit just above your nipple. You whimper a little at the pleasant brutality of it, hoping as he releases that it won’t soon fade. Spencer swipes over the stinging skin and presses a tender kiss to it, almost like an apology—but you sincerely doubt he’s actually sorry. 

Then he resumes his descent, leaving soft kisses down between your breasts, over your ribcage and stomach—when he reaches your hips, he doesn’t pull off your underwear all at once. Rather, he slides the fabric down centimeter by centimeter, kissing the revealed skin like it’s precious. 

This time you don’t need to be told to lift your hips. He helps you slip the final piece of clothing down and off of your legs, flinging it somewhere blindly before getting comfortable between your thighs once more. Your heart pounds with arousal and anxiety as his arms wrap around your thighs and his hands rub up and down the tops of them slowly. 

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, loosening his hold on one leg to thumb at your folds. They glisten in the dim light of his bedroom as he gently reveals your clit. A soft whine escapes you when he nudges at the aching bud, slipping over it a few times and alleviating a bit of the pressure that’s been building. “Shh, baby. I know. I’m gonna take care of it. You’re being so good for me.”

Fuck. The way he talks to you makes your brain turn to mush—you’re utterly incapable of forming an intelligent thought. Spencer has rendered you a complete idiot, and you’re not upset about it in the slightest. 

He presses more gentle kisses to the creases between your thighs, just above your clit—everywhere except for where you need him most. Everything aches for him in the best way and at least you’re too turned on to be very insecure anymore. All you want is relief. But you’re trusting him. 

Thankfully, he delivers. 

The tip of his tongue grazes so lightly over your clit that if you weren’t this worked up you may not have felt it at all. In your current state, however, the stimulation echoes through every atom of your being. Every muscle is tense, frozen in place—you can’t even breathe for a second. He does it again, a little flatter, with a little more pressure, and you whimper. It’s a delicate thing, almost pained and definitely overwhelmed as he gently begins working his tongue against you. Your head cranes up to watch, your jaw drops. Approximations of curse words try to form, but come out only as, “f-fu—oh,” so whiny and soft it doesn’t even sound like you. He hums sympathetically, but you suspect it morphs into a chuckle as you continue to gasp and mewl. 

There are times where you can hold back sounds of pleasure. When you’re by yourself, it’s typically not a problem. Two weeks ago when Spencer was knuckle deep in you for the first time, it had certainly been a challenge, and you’d pretty much given up. But this—this is something else entirely. It feels like religion. It feels like compulsion. Even if you had the slightest modicum of control over yourself, which you currently don’t, you wouldn’t want to keep quiet. You want him to know what he’s doing to you. 

So you let every cry, every whine and whimper drag from your lungs, unbidden and unshaped. You’re new at this, after all—every broad lick feels so good that you have no fucking idea what do to with your hands or how to stop rolling your hips or how to censor your sounds. 

“Spencer,” you keen in one of the moments you remember to breathe. He moans against you, taking you into his mouth and sucking lightly. Your hips buck. “Oh, my—fuck!”

The hand that’s still around your thigh rubs soothing lines up and down. The one that’s spreading you open pulls your folds apart a little bit further, granting him more access to your clit. He flicks his tongue and you almost come then and there, vision going gray for a split second. 

“Wait, wait, Spence—“ you squeak, writhing and trying not to squeeze your thighs together for fear of hurting him. He pulls back and looks up at you, lips shining with your slick and eyes glazed with lust. Fuckfuckfuck he looks so fucking good. “Please, just… slow down, or I’m gonna… or it’s gonna be over.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he rubs circles into your inner thigh. 

“It’s over when you say it’s over. You don’t have a refractory period. We don’t have to stop at one.”

“Oh—you don’t—you don’t have to do that,” you stammer. 

“I know I don’t have to. But if you want me to, I want to. You taste so good, angel girl.”

Well, shit. 

He looks absurdly sexy between your legs like this. You have no idea how you got so lucky, but you don’t plan on taking it for granted. Your fingers tangle in his hair. 

“I don’t know if I can do more than one,” you admit shyly, slightly embarrassed by how little you know about yourself and in general compared to Spencer. Hazel eyes sparkle in the warm light. 

“How about we start with one and see how it feels?”

Your voice is breathy when you respond, “okay,” already impatient for him to get back to it. Spencer seems just as eager, immediately kissing between your legs with a passion that makes your lips jealous. 

The flat of his tongue presses circles against you and your hips buck, already ramping up to that point you’d been at before calling a time-out. Slowly his fingers find their way to your entrance and he teases you with them, dipping in to the first knuckle before withdrawing again. If you could form words, you’d beg him to just do it already, but all you can manage is an affronted whine as you tilt your hips down, hoping he catches the meaning. 

Of course he does—pushing two fingers inside you at once. The intrusive stretch adds a sharp edge to the pleasure, makes it more interesting, as your brain short-circuits and you choke out a moan. It only takes a few slow pumps of his fingers in tandem with the pressure of his tongue until your hips are writhing and you’re and mewling desperately, more overwhelmed with pleasure than you’ve ever been. You push his hair back, able to see him for the first time, and fully appreciate the hollow of his cheeks, the way he looks up at you with perfect, glassy half-lidded eyes, the rhythm of his hand and tongue—he takes your clit between his lips once more, sucking lightly, and you’re done for. A pornographic sob escapes from deep within you as you come, but he doesn’t stop. The orgasm lasts longer than you knew one could—although, it’s only your second time, so you don’t exactly have a lot of data to go off of. Your entire body feels warm and floaty, and what he’s doing feels so good you want him even deeper—but you know he won’t give you that yet. Instead you focus on the slow burn of your orgasm, allowing him to carry on for a while until you begin slowly drifting back to earth and it becomes a bit too much. He recognizes the barely-there whine for what it is and pulls his fingers from you carefully, pressing one final kiss to your clit that makes your legs twitch and summons a weak little moan. 

Spencer’s lips find other avenues, over the delicate skin of your thighs and hips and stomach as he slowly drags himself up again. By the time you’re face to face again you’re still breathing hard. You sort of feel like prey underneath his weight, studied so scrupulously, known far more intimately by him than anyone has ever known you before. But there is so much light and kindness in the way he looks at you that you almost can’t make sense of it. 

Maybe it’s possible to be known and still wanted. The possibility spins like a coin on its edge in your mind. An idea you spent so much time trying to nurture and is only just now beginning to sprout. Maybe someone could see you at your most vulnerable, and still find you worthy of kindness. Appreciation. Affection. 

Spencer certainly could, it seems, as he ducks down to kiss you. You dodge it, turning your head demurely. He nudges his head against yours, speaking so, so softly, utterly cloying as he teases, “what? You’re not gonna kiss me now? Is that how it is?”

“No!” you balk, equally as quiet and especially bashful. “Not when you… no.”

“Let me kiss you,” he pleads, so earnestly you turn your head back to face him. His big eyes are hazy, reflecting all the warmth and dizziness you feel. “Let me kiss you. Please.”

You whine.

“I don’t wanna… taste… myself.”

Spencer doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Hm. We’ll need to work on that. Because one day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.”

Something flickers in your core. 

Suddenly you’re not so squeamish. You really want him to kiss you now. But it seems he’s going to have his fun, first. 

“Open.” Without even thinking about it, your lips part. He really ought to be careful with what he tells you to do—you’re all too compliant. Even as his fingers slip between your lips, you’re obediently hollowing your cheeks around them, watching him with big eyes as his own mouth falls slightly open. “Oh, baby,” he croons. “What are we gonna do with you?”

That flicker has returned to a full-fledged throbbing once you open your mouth again, slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen. 

“Can you make me come again right now?” you whisper, grasping lightly at his shirt. He grins like he loves the idea—and you let him have his way, accepting his lips on yours with no complaint. After a few moments, (the taste is surprisingly unobtrusive), he pulls away.

“I would love to.”

-

part three

[leniisreallycool]

Salt

Hmm, still a little bland... Needs salt. You sprinkle a little more salt into the saucepan. Whisking with one hand, you set the salt shaker down with the other. But you're a little careless, and the shaker tips over onto the counter with a little smack! Little crystals sparkle in the dim light of the kitchen. Without even thinking, you scoop up the spilled salt with your fingertip and flick it over your left shoulder.

"Hey! What the hell's your problem?!"

You turn to see Mammon hovering right next to you frantically blinking his eyes, instinctively reaching to rub them but pulling his hand back.

The comedy of the situation hits you like a truck and you burst into hysterical laughter. Your back hits the counter and you brace yourself on it, unable to support your own weight. Tears stream down your face faster than you can wipe, and all the while you cackle like one possessed.

Through the veil of tears clouding your vision, Mammon obviously has no idea what's going on anymore. First you throw salt at him, and now you're laughing? Are you okay? He reaches out towards you, then pulls back. "Are ya cursed or something?" That only makes you laugh harder.

That's the last straw and Mammon dashes out of the kitchen, calling for his brothers.

"W-wait-" you wheeze between breaths, but that's as far as you get.

By the time Mammon returns with the other demon brothers, you've managed to calm yourself a bit. The mad cackles have subsided to occasional giggle and most of your tears are dried.

All seven of them start to speak, but seem to think the situation is a delicate one and decide to let someone else start.

"What happened? Mammon said you were under some kind of curse," Beel asks after a moment of observation, somewhere between confused and concerned.

"No, no, that's not- there wasn't a curse," you reply, rubbing your eyes. Laughing like that always makes you sleepy. "I threw salt over my shoulder, but Mammon was standing right there, and it got in his eyes."

Now Lucifer is the one to speak up. "Are humans in the habit of... throwing salt around?"

"I've never heard of anything like that..." Levi adds.

Belphie shares a look with Satan. The "how can we prank Lucifer with this" thoughts are so loud you half wonder if they're actually twins. The thought sets you off giggling again.

You've never seen Lucifer move so quickly. One second he's standing near the kitchen's entrance with Asmo clinging to his arm in worry, the next he's by your side, gently holding you elbow and checking your forehead (for fever? Through gloves?). You laugh harder.

"I don't sense any malicious magic. Perhaps it's a more advanced spell than I originally thought..." Lucifer gently squishes your face.

You'd be doubled over cackling if Lucifer wasn't supporting your weight. "No- there's not- there's no curse!" you wheeze, nearly choking on laughter.

The other six promptly begin speculating what could have brought on your strange behavior. "Maybe they are something weird?" "They haven't touched any of my cursed books recently..." "Are you sure they're not just sleepy? Tired humans act weird." "It ain't my fault! I haven't stolen any cursed objects recently! Quit lookin' at me like that!" "I hope it's not poison from the new facemask we tried earlier! I thought it was human safe, but maybe I was wrong..." "I knew I shouldn't have bought that new cursed game off Akuzon... These things are always my fault."

Their speculation isn't helping your situation. At this point your laughter is silent again, and your tears soak the front of Lucifer's shirt. Your face aches from the strain of grinning so wide and your lungs cry out for air.

Eventually, what feels like hours later, you're able to calm down enough to speak again. Your body sags in exhaustion and Belphie keeps glaring at you in worry.

"I'm not cursed, I swear," you say. "Just- in the human world, we have this superstition. I'm not sure where it started, or when, but it started with the belief that spilling salt was due to the devil, because at the time, salt was so valuable they used it as currency. That's also where we get the phrase 'worth their weight in salt'. But basically if you spill salt, you have to throw some over your left shoulder into the devil's eyes to keep him from harming you again. And Mammon was hovering over my left shoulder, and he's the Avatar of Greed..."

"So it's standard human weirdness, then," Mammon says, staring at you like he does when he's pretending not to be so relieved to realize you're okay.

You nod, rubbing your eyes. "Pretty much. Everything lined up perfectly and honestly it couldn't have been better if I planned it."

"Alright, well, you're taking a nap with me. Satan can finish cooking." Belphie grabs your arm and drags you out of the kitchen. For once, the others don't argue.

[ffsg0jo]

tw: grief, death, illness, and angst - i wrote this in like half an hour and i was really in my feels, so pls excuse me if it's bad

uncle sukuna, who's been in and out of jail, is always seemingly in trouble with the law and couldn't give two shits about it. ever since leaving home and his twin brother behind, he's only lived for himself and himself only. he'd be damned if he lets anyone change that.

he receives a voicemail from his brother one day, telling him he's had a little baby boy called yuuji. jin wants to put everything in the past behind them and would love for his brother to meet his precious son. sukuna only scoffs and deletes the voicemail almost immediately.

it's only when jin texts him a video of yuuji (who he's surprised to see almost looks exactly like him, minus all the tattoos) 8 months later babbling what could be interpreted as "papa", does he falter. the kid's adorable, but sukuna isn't ready to face his brother just yet.

many more months go by, and jin seems to have taken the hint. except he gets sent another video, this time on his birthday. he clicks on the video, unable to resist and its yuuji, wobbling on two legs, clapping his hands, and singing his own version of happy birthday (??). he's gotten so much bigger and looks so much like his father.

the only word sukuna recognises from yuujis incoherent nonsense is 'kuna', and his heart softens. he messages back a "cute." and leaves it at that. jin sees the message and doesn't stop smiling for the rest of the day.

jin messages him again a week later, only this time sukuna's heart drops. kaori's dead, and her funeral's next week. he's only met her twice, but she was good for his brother, and she was always good to him too.

he sees his brother for the first time in years at the funeral. jin's hair is a mess, his face unshaven and sunken in; grief seemed to have aged him 10 more years. sukuna's many things, a bad brother included, but something in him breaks when he sees yuuji screaming in his father's arms, not understanding where his mum's gone.

he doesn't know why, but he walks up to jin and offers to take yuuji instead. the toddler immediately calms down in his hold, now more confused as to why there's a man that looks exactly like his dad but with sharpie all over him. jin breaks down, stammering out a thank you, and excuses himself, leaving sukuna alone with his nephew. he'll hunt down his brother later, but for now, he'll keep the brat occupied so his dad can grieve.

sukuna hears from his dad that jin's fallen ill months later. he's speaks to his brother more often now and has even met up with both him and yuuji a couple of times. but jin's never mentioned being sick. he's been looking worse, for sure, but he just put it down to being a single father to an energetic toddler.

he moves in with them the next week. jin keeps getting worse and even little yuuji's noticed.

sukuna tries his best. he really does. he's not been there for jin previously, but he makes sure he's there now when it matters. it's all new to him, caring for people. he tries to cook the most nutritious meals for jin, making sure they're yuuji friendly too. he makes sure the house is always clean, even though yuuji's making a mess every 10 minutes. he changes diapers (both yuuji's and jin's), bathes them both, and tucks them both into bed. he even reads yuuji a bedtime story just to maintain normacly even though he hasnt read since he was a child.

he checks up on jin, constantly seeing if he's feeling okay and gives him his medicine. he holds onto jin with the utmost care (almost carrying him) when they go to visit kaori's grave or when yuuji insists on both of them coming to the park with him. when jin can't sleep at night due to being in excruciating pain, he's there. by his side and holding him. he's never been this affectionate, but he's also never had a dying brother before.

it's still not enough, though. the last couple of days were the hardest, and even yuuji knew enough to be on his best behaviour.

sukuna silently sobs into his pillow at night, when the whole world's asleep. he's filled with regret and hatred for himself, but he knows it's too late now. he tells his brother he loves him and that he promises to take care of yuuji no matter what. jin only smiles, his eyes shining with unshed tears, and tries to kiss his cheek as a thank you, and i love you too.

jin died with one arm holding yuuji, the other holding sukuna's, and his wife's name on his tongue.

sukuna was left all alone, once again. except this time, he had no brother to give yuuji back to. as he promised jin, the stars as his witness, he'd do anything for yuuji and to keep him safe.

his life was no longer his own. he had his nephew to think about.

© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.

[barcaatthemoon]

love me tender || leah williamson x reader ||

leah helps you through some of your pain after you tear your acl.

minors dni, 18+, smut ahead.

the ache in your leg was almost overwhelming. you had spent all day stuck in bed unable to move because of it. you knew that tearing your acl during camp was bad, but you had never expected the pain to be this bad. usually leah was there to get you medicine and take care of you, but it would be another hour and a half before she got back from practice.

all you wanted was some sort of distraction from the pain, but you were quickly running out of options. usually, you'd try to watch something, but you couldn't focus on anything. sleep was always good, if only you weren't in so much pain that you couldn't even begin to fall asleep.

after nearly an hour, you remembered what you had done for leah whenever she had a bad day when her acl had been torn. you knew that it'd be hard for you to cum in so much pain, but the pleasure was a nice distraction from everything going on with your body.

it was a slow start with your hands massaging the inside of your own thighs. you closed your eyes and tried to think of all the things that leah usually did to you. you let your fingers dance all across your own skin like hers did. all you wanted was leah, but you could only hope that she'd be back soon. and as much as you wanted her, you truly and deeply believed that she deserved some time away from you.

"fuck leah," you moaned as your fingers finally dipped down past your shorts. you were definitely teasing yourself as you stroked your fingers against yourself through your underwear. they'd be ruined if you continued like this for long, but you could always buy another pair or two later.

just as you were awkwardly shimmying out of your shorts and underwear, leah was entering the apartment. leah generally liked to announce her arrival, but since it was so quiet and you had been a bit down when she left, leah assumed that you were sleeping. she quietly tiptoed up the little set of stairs to your bedroom and pushed open the door.

your eyes were screwed shut as you pleasured yourself. leah's gaze was torn between your two hands. your left hand was grabbing at your breasts, alternating to give attention to both. your right hand was rubbing furiously at your clit as your hips moved up and down trying to chase after something that you knew was futile. even without the pain, you hadn't made yourself cum since you started regularly having sex with leah.

"oh my god," leah whispered in shock as she watched you. you had absolutely no clue that leah was there until you felt the dip in the bed as she moved to lay between your legs. "move your hand up and don't stop on my account, i want to help you. please."

"okay," you agreed. you moved your right hand up to tease your other breast. leah licked her lips as she took in the sight once more before she dove down between your legs. leah's tongue moved slowly against your clit, and the switch from your frantic rubbing made your head spin. "leah, oh my god. you feel so good."

"that's all i want to do. all i ever want to do is make you feel good love," leah told you. "do you want my fingers too?"

"no, i like this. this is good," you answered. leah hummed as she dipped her head down once again. the slow strides of her tongue helped to calm you down a bit. it was much easier not to think about your pain with leah pleasuring you instead of trying to do it yourself.

leah's hand moved to gently rub around your knee, seemingly soothing some of that pressure away as well. you began to feel the relaxation spread throughout your entire body at this. you were used to exciting and dramatic orgasms with leah, but the subtly of this one was welcome. too much thrashing around and muscle stress only would have hurt you further. leah seemed to know this, and backed away as soon as you showed signs of coming down.

"stay there, i'll be right back," leah ordered. she gave you a quick peck on the lips before she left you on the bed. you stayed there until she came back to wipe away the mess between your legs. she cleaned you up, but you could tell that she wasn't finished yet. you were given clean clothes, and by the time that you were finished dressing yourself, leah was back with an ice pack and some pain pills for your knee.

"all for me?" you tilted your head and smiled up at her. the sight of you made leah's chest feel warmer. you were visibly more relaxed than you had been when she left. that had been a point of contention that morning with leah insisting that she could reschedule her afternoon plans because of the pain in your knee. "you don't have to do all this."

"of course i do, and not just because your big sister scares me. i seem to remember you giving up almost everything to take care of me when i got hurt. i've never been great at this sort of thing, it kind of hurt my relationship with jordan, but i'm getting better. that's because of you, you've shown me how to be a proper homemaker," leah said. she tried to laugh and make it sound more casual than it was, but you could hear the little waiver in her voice.

"you didn't need help, you just needed to get over yourself first. don't worry though, i won't let any of the other girls know that you're so soft. i know that georgia and lucy wouldn't let you hear the end of it," you laughed. leah bit her lip as she looked away from you. still, you could see the rosy hue to her cheeks that wasn't usually there. "but if you want, you can go around telling them all that i made you a kept woman."

"maybe, but i doubt that would do anything for my reputation. keira already gives me shit for how whipped i am for you. i don't know how she knows about that though, do you have any idea (y/n)?"

"not a clue, maybe she just sees right through you," you muttered as you leaned in to kiss leah. leah scoffed, but still accepted the kiss graciously. "lee, baby, do you think that you could get me something to eat? chicken and noodles if we have any left in the fridge please."

"i'll be right back." leah left without even stopping to think, not even when she heard you chuckle as she made her way down the steps. leah knew that she was whipped, and it wouldn't have taken your weekly phone calls with keira for the midfielder to figure that one out. she had stayed with both you and leah the last time that she was in london before you'd officially moved in together, so she had seen firsthand the way leah was around you.

[pombeom]

keep reading | soobin fic (nsfw)

nsfw, mdni!

pairings: bf!soobin x bookworm!reader

warnings: smut, fingering, nipple play, boob play, handjob?, riding, nipple sucking, cockwarming, unprotected sex (pls use protection), creampie

summary: soobin loves listening to you read but when he chooses the book you guys read, things take a dirty turn

a/n: this was mostly inspired from a tiktok i saw where a couple was reading the book in this fic together (particularly chapter 22) and to anyone whose read the book, pls let me know in the comments below so we can fangirl together!

Even though Soobin didn’t like the type of books you did, he always made the effort to sit and listen to you read your latest book out loud. But little did you know that his intentions behind this today were far less innocent than you could have imagined. 

Whilst on your little bookshop date, you decided to venture outside the world of classic literature and explore “booktok”. The local bookshop presented a display of all the books that are growing in popularity on “TikTok” and Soobin encouraged you to pick a book named “Twisted Love” suggesting the title sounded intriguing. 

“Come on read it for me, baby,” Soobin whined, trying to drag you from the kitchen into your bedroom, your usual reading spot. 

“What do you think you’re gonna eat for dinner then?” 

“You…” he mumbles under his breath but loud enough that you heard it, earning him a slap on his arm. 

“I’m nearly done just wait.” 

Acquiescing, he sighs and ventures off into the living room, slouching on the sofa. 

20 minutes later…

“Soobin, come on let’s eat! I’m starving.” 

He makes his way back to the kitchen and grabs a serving of the pasta you made. Before even sitting down at the table, he gobbles down half the food, rushing to finish the meal. You raise suspicion at his behaviour particularly as he’s never this excited for your reading sessions. 

Rather than question it, you also finish your meal at a quicker pace than usual. Soobin’s excitement was quite intriguing.

“You finished?” He asks, as you put away your plates and cutlery in the dishwasher. 

“Yes I’m done,” you sigh, rolling your eyes at his behaviour. 

“Come on, let’s go.” He places an arm around your waist and guided you to your shared bedroom. 

He sprawls across the double bed whilst you grab the book from the shopping bag and you slot yourself in between Soobin’s legs using his chest as a back rest. 

“Ok, let’s begin shall we?” You ask getting your answer through the form of a back hug as his arms sliver around your waist and places his chin on your shoulder, encapsulating you in his body. 

Usually, your reading sessions last from anywhere between 30 minutes to 1 hour, yet today you’ve been reading at it continuously for 3 hours, unable to put it down. You comment on the characters’ stupidity and question plot holes whilst Soobin simply nods his head and agrees with you. He seemed more distracted than usual: his thoughts were elsewhere. 

“Chapter 22…” you begin. Soobin’s grip around you, suddenly gets tighter, pulling you closer to his body. You could guess from where the plot was going that this chapter was going to contain some sort of smut and honestly you expected it. 

“Is this why you picked out this book, Soobin? You knew about this scene didn’t you? That’s why you were so excited!” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about baby,” he replies, acting clueless but the tone of his voice was an instant giveaway of his fibs, “Keep reading.” 

The chapter instantly starts off intense and each word that comes out your mouth sounds seductive to Soobin. It’s as if you were beckoning him to ruin you tonight. Each sentence is hotter and dirtier than the last and before you even reached the 6th sentence, you could feel Soobin’s lips attach to your nape, kissing and sucking at your skin. His mouth lowers to your shoulders, leaving a trail of bruised red marks. The sensation of his lips on your skin sets a wildfire in the pits of your stomach and you instantly shut the book and your eyes. 

“I want you to keep reading babe,” he whispers in your ear, “Keep reading.” 

You open the page back up again at chapter 22 and continue reading from where you left and and every so often letting out a suppressed moan at the contact between the two of you. He proceeds on removing your top from behind and slides down your baggy pyjama bottoms with ease. His movements matched the scene of the book where Ava, the female protagonist, was now stripped naked of her clothing. 

As if on cue, Soobin’s dick stands erect just as the male character Alex’s does. You feel his hardness through his grey joggers on your naked ass and you begin rubbing yourself against him. 

“You want me to take you, Sunshine? Ruin you, pound you into a pathetic mess, turn you into my little fuck doll?” You read out loud, feeling Soobin’s hands move from your waist in opposite directions: one head up to grab one of your breasts, while the other rubs your pussy. You arch your back, leaving your head into the nape of his neck, leaving breathy moans right under his ear. 

“You like that, baby? Want me to ruin you just as Alex is going to do with Ava?” 

“Mhm- ahhh,” you shriek as suddenly you feel 3 fingers inserted into your entrance. 

The hand that was on your boob, travels into your mouth, gathering your spit before moving down to meet the other hand at your pussy. Soobin rubs his thumb on your clit whilst fingering you deep and rough, leaving you feeling overpowered by the sensations you were feeling. 

It’s not long before you throw the book into some corner of the room and turn your body to face him, removing yourself of his fingers. You pull up his tshirt, teasing him by scraping past his nipples, making him let out a soft grunt. You work your way down to his joggers which were stained with precum, and pull them down in one swift movement revealing his cock. It was long with an average girth but the way he used it on you was like nothing you’ve ever felt before. 

You pump your fists up and down his member before lifting yourself up and sitting down on it. You ease yourself into position as his hands move up to your waist, securing you tightly. Your movements begin slow, adjusting yourself to his size, because no matter how many times you guys fuck your hole is always too tight, even as it oozes with slick and wetness. 

You eventually pick up the pace, your tits bouncing uk and down in front of his face, your nipples grazing it every so often. Soobin guides you well pushing his cock in deep into your pussy, hitting all the right spots. 

“You’re taking me so well baby. Fuck you’re so good!” He mutters, his grunts mixing with your whimpers and moans. 

“Soo- Soobin! I don’t thi- think I can- last a- any longer! Shit! That was- so good!” Your slewed words were a melody to Soobin’s ears. 

He quickens his pace as you’re left riding him so fast you can’t even think. His mouth suddenly latches onto one of your nipples as he begins sucking and licking your tit. 

“Agh! Soobin that feels so good! Do the other one!” You manage to say in between your moans. 

Soobin follows your instructs and moves to your other breast, repeating the same actions. 

“I’m gonna cum! Soobin keep going! I’m so close!” 

“Look at you. So desperate for my cock? Cum with me baby.” 

Not even seconds later, your orgasm comes crashing, letting out the louadest scream. Your mind is numb as you fall onto Soobin’s chest, grabbing his shoulders for support as he continues to ride both your orgasms. His cum mixes with yours, leaking out your pussy while you remain seated on his dick, cockwarming him. 

“Stay like this for a bit more babe.” Soobin wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you and pulling your naked body closer to his, “You did so well. Let’s get you cleaned up shall we?” 

“No, please let’s just stay like this tonight.” 

“Anything for you baby.” 

Soobin lies you down next to him without removing his cock from your pussy. He’s now spooning you form behind and you both instantly fall asleep, tangled up in each others naked forms. 

[wileys-russo]

Pollito / barca team ," why are you hiding in the closet" training room/ ground

in the pollito universe with stuck, tiny silver flash, the one where the kids go bowling barça femeni II in hiding

"mierda!" you mumbled under your breath, thumbs flying with gentle taps against your screen as you tried relentlessly to beat the level of candy crush you'd been stuck on all week.

you let out a small scream of surprise as the door to the equipment closet you were hiding out in swung open, flooding the dark with light and causing you to squint and rub at your eyes.

"aye pollito. why are you hiding in the closet?" patri sighed, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow and hands on hips. "i'm not. i have been out of the closet for a year now!" you grinned up at the older girl who snickered and offered you a hand up.

"no i can't, i'm having...quiet time." you faltered trying to think of an excuse which clearly didn't work on the older spaniard. "what did you do now?" pina chimed in, causing you to jump again from your spot on the floor not even having noticed her there as well.

"nothing! ale told me i'm supposed to channel my energy into resting." you rolled your eyes, this lie falling off your tongue a little smoother as both girls gave you a look, shared a look and then decided to leave you to it.

the problems started when a half an hour later you were hungry, currently skipping lunch for your little hide out as you huffed and mulled over your options.

you texted the one person who you knew would come through for you right now without question, perking up a few minutes later when there was a knock on the door and you knocked back, vicky opening it with a tray of food.

"this was so hard to sneak out." the girl sighed shaking her head, sitting down beside you where you scooted across. "compañero i owe you." you exhaled happily, the girl humming and watching in slight disgust as you shoveled in food like it could disappear at a moments notice.

"still haven't beat it?" the forward chuckled pointing to your phone on the floor where candy crush was loaded. "no!" you huffed with a glare, nodding as the girl reached for it with a raised eyebrow. "por favor be my guest!" you mumbled out between bites.

"boo!" you choked on a piece of chicken as the door swung open again, vicky smacking you on the back as it came sailing out of your mouth and landed on jana's shoe. "ew pollito!" the older girl groaned, kicking her foot and sending it flying away as bruna snickered.

"you can't hide in here forever amiga." bruna warned as you motioned for them to go away or close the door, the tiny closet suddenly becoming very cramped as they shuffled inside and sat down, knees tucked to their chest.

"not forever! i have a plan." you smacked away jana's hand where she reached for your jelly cup. "like the same plan you had not to get caught in the first place?" vicky chimed in as you frowned and shoved her, kicking bruna who tried to hide her laugh.

"that was not my fault."

"nothing is ever your fault!" jana rolled her eyes. "this really wasn't! i had a fool proof plan until that burro decided today of all days she was going to arrive early." you grumbled unhappily, all of your hard work and planning having been for nothing.

"so its her fault for ruining the plan you had to mess with her anyway? oye pollito, take some responsibility for once!" bruna sighed with a shake of her head, all four of you jumping in shock as again the door swung open and flooded with light.

"dios mío now i find you all! you left me at the table all alone pendejos." cata swore with a huff, arms crossed over her chest. "and for a secret meeting? for shame!" the goalkeeper tutted as all four of you groaned and complained there wasn't room when she closed the door and flopped down right in the middle.

"so what are we discussing?" cata asked, her knees digging into your sides as you shuffled around unable to find a reprise. "how nothing is ever pollitos fault." jana rolled her eyes again as you mocked her and tossed a carrot stick at her head, cata's hand shooting up to catch it mid air.

"not nothing! just this mornings...incident." you huffed, wincing at the obnoxious crunch of cata chomping down on the carrot right by your ear. "oh that? sí i will admit i am shocked you are still alive." cata mused with another obnoxious crunch.

"she's got the alexia shield." three voices sung out in unison as you pulled a face.

"first. thats super creepy do not all talk at the same two. second; sí she won't touch me when ale is around. but she has captains meetings all afternoon now until media which is why-"

"-you're hiding." "what did i say about all speaking at once!"

"i just have to survive another..." you paused to tap cata's watch. "...twenty minutes. then we have media and she's not going to kill me with witnesses around!" you beamed happily at your newfound plan, not missing the looks of uncertainty flashed around by your friends.

"what!" "nothing nothing, i'm sure that will work. and then tomorrow?" jana questioned as you faltered. "i pray she gets amnesia and forgets all about it?" you smiled hopefully as vicky shook her head and patted your shoulder.

"i will miss you amiga...can i have your nintendo switch?" "vicky!"

"well well well." you all jumped again as the door swung open, the face you'd been avoiding glaring down at you. "the rest of you have five seconds to haul culo out of this closet or you suffer as well." the girl warned.

"traitors!" you yelled after the four girls who fell over one another trying to run away, bruna and cata picking up vicky who tripped, carrying her away by the arms in a hurry unable to get away fast enough.

"hola mapi, did you do something new with your hair? looks very good today." you smiled as sweetly as you could manage, the defenders jaw clenching.

"purple is your colour?" you tried again with a nervous laugh, having been caught red handed with purple dye on your hands this morning after dumping it in mapi's shampoo, the girl having arrived early and caught you, but not having put two and two together until she showered after training.

"look we can talk about this we can-" you started to beg as the girl stepped inside and started to close the door. "oh sí sí sí we're going to talk pollito...but after i shave one of your eyebrows off." she grinned wickedly holding up a razor as your eyes widened.

"ALEXIA!"

[sleepyjuice]

28 + 45 w jj ofc

summary: jj picks you up from a girls night!

warnings: drinking, vomiting due to drinking (it’s barely described and not detailed!) jj once again being an absolute dream<3

All bets were off when it came to a good old classic girls night.

It had been far too long since you, Sarah and Kie had a night to yourselves without the boys. But for once, the boys had plans for the night, so the three of you took this opportunity and ran with it.

You had met at Sarah’s, as she somehow had the house to herself for the weekend, which also meant unlimited access to Ward’s in home bar.

You could barely even remember what you were drinking after a while, all of you completely wasted just a few hours into the night.

Kiara had passed out on Sarah’s bed, out for the night, and Sarah was texting John b to come back early so he could stay the night with her.

About a half hour later, you heard the doorknob to Sarah’s bedroom rattling, causing the two of you to gasp and grab onto one another, both of you positive there was an intruder breaking in to kill all of you. Kiara wasn’t phased, still sound asleep, and you envied the fact that she would go semi peacefully, while you and Sarah fought for your lives.

“Oh my god, Sarah, we’re gonna fucking die!” You whisper yelled, Sarah’s fearful eyes meeting your own as you clutched onto each other for dear life from your spot on the floor.

You both screamed when the door opened, hiding your faces against one another as you prepared for the worst, and you damn near jumped out of your skin when you felt a hand on your shoulder, leading you to cautiously peak your eyes up.

“jj! What the fuck?” You gasped, your heart still racing, but you soon giggled at the sight of your boyfriend’s shocked expression, looking beside him to see John b sharing the same look of shock and confusion.

“What the fuck, me? Y’all just screamed bloody murder for no reason. John b just texted Sarah that we were here and she texted him back and said to come up. Literally like two minutes ago.” jj explained, now noticing all of the empty bottles and glasses scattered across Sarah’s desk. He certainly found the humor in this situation, but he was just confused.

Your eyes widened at his explanation, turning to Sarah, both of you immediately giggling loudly.

“Oops!” She laughed, reaching up for John b’s hand so she could stand up.

“Glad you ladies had a good night,” John b spoke, his hand around Sarah’s waist as he held her up, “Kie still with us?” He asked, glancing over at the sleeping figure at the bed.

“Mhm, she knocked out a little bit ago. She smoked a little, too, so she got sleepy.” Sarah responded, leaning into her boyfriend.

“Alright, let’s get you home, baby.” jj spoke as he helped you to your feet, his hands fixing your shorts that had ridden up from sitting for so long.

“John b, you staying the night here with Sarah?” jj asked, the brunette nodding in response as he worked to keep Sarah upright as she swayed.

“Yeah, I’m gonna take her into the guest room so she can sleep. She’s fallin’ asleep in my arms.” John b responded, sarah giggling sleepily as he led her out of her bedroom.

“John b! Make sure you take her makeup off ‘fore she sleeps, ‘kay?” You quickly reminded your friend, giggling once again as you leaned back into jj’s arms that were wrapped firmly around your waist, holding you in place.

“Copy that. Night guys. jj, take the Twinkie and just pick me back up sometime tomorrow.” John b stated, tossing the keys to jj as they made their way to the guest bedroom.

jj gave a little salute to his friend as they walked away, turning you to face him now, smiling lovingly down at your flushed face.

“You get into a lot of trouble without me, hm?” He grinned, patting your ass gently as you gushed up at him.

“Maybee…” you hummed, leaning up to plant a little kiss against your boyfriend’s lips, unable to stop smiling. You had a good night with your friends, and now you got to go home with your boyfriend. Life couldn’t get any better at the moment.

“Yeah, you do,” he laughed, “let’s grab your stuff so we can get back to the chateau and get your little ass to bed.” he instructed, dropping his hold on your waist to grab your shoes that were discarded on the floor a few feet away.

He looked at you, and you gave him a look, which he knew all too well. Shaking his head, jj kneeled down to slip your shoes on your feet, unable to hide his little smirk at your behavior.

“Got me doin’ all the work here.” He teased as you smiled satisfactorily, your heart swelling at your boyfriend’s sweet actions. He was so good to you.

“Alright, you bring anything else?” He asked, glancing over at your purse sat on a chair across the room, stepping over to grab it.

You shook your head at his question, expecting him to hand you your purse, but instead he put it over his shoulder, causing you to giggle giddily.

“You look so cute!” You gushed at your boyfriend, wishing your phone wasn’t in said purse so you could take a picture.

“Yeah, I know, let’s get going, baby. Say bye to Kie.” He rolled his eyes, walking over to stand in the doorway as you gave Kiara a little kiss on her forehead, seeing as she was still sound asleep.

You followed over to jj, watching as he quietly shut the bedroom door behind him as you made your way down to hall and to the top of the long and winding staircase, stopping at the top as jj went down the first few steps.

He turned to look back at you when he realized you weren’t right behind him, immediately recognizing the look in your eyes.

“Baby-“

“Can you carry me?” You asked before he could finish speaking, swaying slightly as you were dizzy and the length of the staircase below you was rather intimidating in your current state.

jj sighed dramatically, but not in annoyance. He loved how soft and clingy you got when you were drunk. It honestly wasn’t too different from how you normally were, but your behavior was endearing to him and he felt happy to be not only wanted, but needed. Even if it was something as small as carrying you when you were drunk and didn’t want to walk.

You couldn’t hold back your smile as jj made his way back up the top few steps, positioning his arms below you and swooping you up so he was carrying you bridal style.

“Thank you, jay.” You hummed in appreciation, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your head into the crook of his neck as he carried you down the long staircase.

Once at the bottom, he managed to keep you held up with one hand as he pulled the front door open, stepping outside and pulling it shut before repositioning his other hand to hold you properly again.

You sighed at the feeling of the fresh air hitting your skin. The slight breeze felt like heaven against your flushed cheeks and the sound of the not so distant waves hitting the shore was nothing short of soothing.

“Glad you had fun tonight, baby.” jj murmured as he walked through the large front yard towards the Twinkie, setting you down to open the passengers side door for you to get in.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the sudden shift from being held in the air to standing up straight had your vision spinning and your stomach turning.

“Ughhhh…” you grumbled, no stranger to what was about to come.

jj read your expression immediately, recognizing your sudden shift. He acted fast, pulling your purse off his shoulder and setting it on the hood of the Twinkie before moving behind you to pull your hair back as you knelt down over the grass that surrounded the long driveway, his other hand holding your waist steady so you didn’t fall as you began to empty your stomach into the grass. Sorry Sarah.

You threw up quite a bit, coughing loudly once you were finished as you worked to get some air back in your burning lungs. jj’s hand patted gently at your back, cooing soft words in your ear as you recovered.

“It’s okay, I got you.” He spoke softly, sitting down on the pavement and gently pulling you down to sit between his legs and lean back against his chest, wanting to give you a minute to recover before getting in a moving vehicle.

You sighed as you leaned back into jj, the air slowly filling your lungs again, closing your eyes as you let the cool breeze help cool you down as you recovered.

“I love you, jj, so much.” You spoke quietly after a moment, turning your head behind you to meet your boyfriend’s gaze. His soft skin looked beautiful under the moonlight, his blue eyes looking nothing short of iridescent as they met yours, his soft pink lips tugging up into a grin before kissing the top of your head several times.

“Mm, I love you, too, baby.” He spoke into your hair before resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Let’s sit here a few more minutes and then let’s get you home. Gotta get my girl to bed.”

[littlexdeaths]

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: some bullying, little sprinkle of hurt/comfort, lots more smooching, underage drinking/partying, so so so much cuteness

part three | part five

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

word count: 4k

a/n: a shoutout to both @rebelfell for gifting me eddie’s costume idea and @thepurplelovewitch for shy girls! and the biggest kudos to @undead-supernova for looking this over and always encouraging/helping me to improve. <3

“Nance, if you think I’m wearing that, you’ve lost your damn mind,” you mutter with utmost distaste. 

The brunette peeks her head around the package she’s holding to give you a small pout, the other hand resting on her hip.

“Oh come on, live a little!” She sighs, putting the sexy nurse costume back onto the rack. “There is no way I am letting you sulk on your couch again this year.”

You roll your eyes but continue browsing the costumes, each one more revealing than the last. You didn’t mind spending your Halloween night curled up on the sofa with a scary movie, you were more comfortable that way. 

Besides you weren’t normally invited to such gatherings, even if you did want to go. Tina only seemed to invite you out of obligation, not because she wanted you there. 

“Well…maybe I won’t be spending it alone,” you mumble and her brow quirks up.

“Oh, are you and Eddie doing something?” she prods. 

But your shoulders sag a little, unable to hide your disappointment when you shake your head.

“I mean, he hasn’t asked me…yet.”

You continue to flick through the costumes, now too consumed in your own thoughts. 

It has been a week since he kissed you on the football field—and it’s still the only thing you can think about.

The warm press of his mouth against yours, breathes mingling together in the chill autumn air. The way his strong hands encircled your waist, brushing up against the cool skin of your cheek. The memory sends a delightful shiver down your spine, despite the suffocating warmth of the small costume shop. 

“Okay,” Nancy says with finality, abruptly interrupting your daydream. She nods her head in satisfaction. “Okay, this is the one!” 

She thrusts a costume into your awaiting arms. Once you catch a glimpse of it, you blanch before immediately shaking your head and giving it back. 

“And you’re actually insane, Nance.”

She rolls her eyes, but shoves it back into your arms anyway.

“Oh, come on, isn’t the whole point of Halloween to dress up? Go outside your comfort zone?” 

You glance down from her encouraging gaze to the costume in your hands. A woman with flowing blonde hair is smiling back at you, a black and white corset hugging her curves in all the right places. 

But it’s the pair of bunny ears perched atop her head and the white cotton tail attached to the backside of the costume that somehow makes you feel more insecure. 

“I am not dressing up as a pornstar—”

Nancy all but slaps a hand over your mouth to stop your hysterical shriek. A mother with her young son gives you both a distasteful look as they pass, the tips of your ears warming in embarrassment as you tuck the costume behind your back. 

“It’s not a pornstar costume,” she quips with a lowered voice. “It’s a Playboy Bunny.” 

You give her a look, blowing out an exasperated breath. 

“As if they aren’t the same thing?” 

By some miracle you manage to walk out of that shop a half hour later. Nancy’s promise of burgers and milkshakes fuel your last minute costume decision. But as you both descend onto Main Street, leaves crunching beneath your boots, you can’t help but feel like everyone is staring at you. 

It’s as if they can see that damned bunny costume hidden beneath the dark plastic bag, the contents weighing you down with each step you take towards Nancy’s station wagon. 

Twenty minutes. 

It’s been twenty minutes since he’s been kept waiting, and Eddie’s patience is finally beginning to run out. But the snap of a branch catches his attention, eyes darting to the trees ahead. 

Eddie is more than confused when he realizes the regular he was supposed to be meeting had bailed on him. And the person that emerges from the line of trees is none other than Nancy Wheeler. 

He quickly shuts the metal lunchbox as she approaches, taking a seat on the bench opposite of him, determination clear on her features.

“Uh…are you lost, Wheeler?”

“No,” she states flatly, swinging the other leg over the bench seat. “You’re just the guy I’ve been looking for.” 

He scratches at the stubble on his jaw, fingers tapping against the worn wood of the table. Eddie has seen a lot of odd things in his twenty years of life, but Nancy Wheeler making a drug deal was not something he ever expected. 

He glances at her warily when she folds her hands on the table, looking far too prim and proper to be sitting out here with him and his lunchbox full of weed. 

“Well, how can I be of service then, Wheeler?” he tilts his head towards the metal box, but she holds his gaze regardless. 

“I have a proposition for you.” 

He can’t help but snort, already beginning to shake his head. 

“Okay, I don’t know what rumors you've heard Wheeler, but the only type of payment I accept is cold hard cash.” 

And from the look of almost horror that crosses over her features, he instantly realizes he’s misread this entire situation. 

“Oh god, I’m not here for a drug deal, Munson!” 

It’s silent for a beat, neither of them daring to look at the other out of sheer embarrassment. 

“So, why are you here, Nancy?” he asks quietly. 

Her eyes flick up to look at him again, noting the splotches of pink rising up the skin of his neck. 

“Tina’s party on Friday,” she starts, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. 

His shoulders sag a little at her answer, arching a brow in her direction. He only can assume someone put her up to this, one of her more popular friends not wanting to be caught dead with the likes of him. Well, unless they need someone to supply the weed. 

Nonetheless, a part of him can’t help but admit he’s a little intrigued.

“What about it?”

Nancy flashes him a look before continuing. 

“There’s a certain someone that’s going to be in attendance…” she trails, biting back a smile when he instantly perks up. “And I think she would really want you to be there.” 

Eddie’s cheeks flush a rosy pink, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. While he had thought about going to try and make some extra cash, he wasn’t exactly sold on the idea. 

A costume party filled with a bunch of drunken idiots that hated his guts sounded like a goddamn nightmare. But knowing that you were going to be there? Well, that changed things drastically. 

“I’ll be there,” he asserts. 

Nancy is a little taken aback but happily surprised by his quick response. In her own way this was also a small test. A test to see if Eddie really liked you as much as you claimed he did. And she had gotten her answer. 

“Well, great!” she says, flashing him a polite smile and rising to her feet. “Be there by 10 o’clock sharp, and don’t forget to wear a costume!” 

Eddie doesn't have a chance to reply before Nancy turns on her heel and disappears back through the trees. 

Friday has finally come. 

And your stomach twists with every step you take toward the large house, the click of your heels on the sidewalk a far more steady rhythm than the beat of your own heart. Parties had never really been your thing and the only other one you’d managed to get invited to was at Steve’s house, back when he and Nancy were still together. 

So it was no surprise that you felt completely out of your element as you continued to strode up the darkened walkway. You can feel the bass pumping inside you before you even cross the threshold, wringing your hands together in a nervous manner. 

The air is thick with the smell of smoke and cheap beer, throngs of your peers in scantily clad costumes stumbling past you to the makeshift dance floor. No one spares you a passing glance as you take a step deeper into the hazy room, your own eyes seeking out your best friend. 

Her pale pink dress was surprisingly difficult to spot amongst the crowd, but it was Jonathan who you ended up spotting first. He looked out of place amongst the dancing teens, a dark blue suit hugging his shoulders as he leaned against the far wall of the living room. A pair of round sunglasses shielding his eyes. 

The Duckie to her Andie. 

Relief floods your chest as you begin to push through the crowd, the pounding bass echoing in your ears. Nancy looks surprised when she finally spots you, passing her drink to Jonathan before pulling you aside.

“Where’s the bunny costume?!” she shouts over the music, tugging at the sleeve of your cardigan.

“I couldn’t do it Nance,” you reply, wrapping your arms further around your middle. “It just wasn’t…me.”

And while you can see the clear disappointment written on her features, there’s a sparkle of understanding in her eyes. 

“Well, if you’re going to be a,” she pauses to look over your ensemble in its entirety. “…librarian,” she continues, “You at least need to be a sexy one.”

And without another word she’s pulling you into the nearest bathroom. When the door clicks shut behind her, she immediately gets to work. She reaches to untuck your button down shirt from your pleated skirt, popping open the buttons one by one to reveal the swell of your breasts.

You earn a small nod of approval when she sees you actually wore the push-up bra you had bought for your original costume. The brunette gives the lower half of your shirt the same treatment before tying it off with a knot right above your navel.

Lastly, Nancy hikes your skirt up a little higher up your hips and takes a step back to admire her handiwork.

“Perfection. There’s no way Eddie’s gonna be able to resist you like this.” She grins and you feel your palms begin to sweat.

“What do you mean? Eddie’s here?!”

Suddenly it all clicks into place. 

The real reason for why both her and Eddie were missing at lunch last Wednesday. Before you have a chance to question her any further, she’s fled the bathroom, her curly bob disappearing in the sea of drunken teens.

Damn her.

You take one last look in the mirror, fighting the urge to pull your cardigan tighter over your newly exposed skin when you rejoin the party. Your eyes scan the entirety of the room, in search of that tall lanky figure you’ve come to know all too well. 

To your dismay, Eddie is nowhere to be found. While you knew he wouldn’t be amongst the groups of people grinding against each other in the living room, you had expected him to be tucked in a corner somewhere—observing. 

You find yourself searching almost every inch of Tina’s large home and backyard, desperate to catch even a glimpse of him. And, unfortunately for you, instead of finding Eddie, you stumbled upon a couple getting hot and heavy in her parents bedroom. To which you quickly slammed the door shut and tried to scrub the image from your memory. 

You take those stairs back down to the main level slowly, disappointment weighing each of your steps. There was only one place you haven’t checked yet: the kitchen. And with your terrible success rate, a drink sounds too appealing to pass up. 

But once you cross through that open doorway, you stop dead in your tracks. Because there he is, in all his handsome glory—casually leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed over his chest, a drink long abandoned next to him. 

Has he been here this whole time? 

While his expression borders on cynical, all of that shifts once your eyes meet. Eddie’s throat bobs, jaw slackening once you come into view. The set of plastic vampire fangs sitting between his teeth fall to the sticky tile floor with a soft clack. 

He has to practically wipe the drool from the corner of his mouth as you approach, straightening up and trying to look at anywhere other than the swell of your breasts.

“Hi,” you breathe softly.

But his answering smile has your knees about to buckle beneath you.

“Hello to you, sweetheart.”

Only then do your eyes flick downward, towards the t-shirt adorning his broad chest. And you let out a soft snort of amusement.

This is my Halloween costume is written in dark Sharpie against the bright orange cotton. The words are slanted and messy, as if he scribbled it on in a rush. It’s barely visible beneath the lapels of his leather jacket when he crosses his arm over his chest.

He quirks a brow at you. “What? Are you not impressed?” he muses with a teasing glint in his eye. “I thought it was quite clever, if I do say so myself.”

His smile widens at the soft giggles that bubble past your lips, leaning further back against the counter before motioning to your ensemble.

“And what exactly are you supposed to be then, hm?” He chuckles, as if it isn’t obvious.

But you feel your face warm, suddenly hyper aware of every inch of bare skin that’s now exposed to him when your hands fall to your sides.

“Uh… a librarian,” you reply, trying to muster up some feigned confidence.

Eddie’s eyes darken slightly as he takes in your bare midriff, tongue gliding over his lower lip in deep thought.

“So, I take it you’ve come to reprimand me for my overdue book fines?”

Feeling slightly emboldened, you take a small step closer, lightly nibbling on your lower lip to stifle another giggle. 

“I mean, rumor has it you’ve had that copy of The Hobbit checked out since your junior year…” you trail off, carefully pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose. “That’s an awful lot of fines, Eddie.” 

“My sincerest apologies, Miss,” he grins before placing a hand over his chest, those dark eyes alight with mischief. “Is there anything I can do to remedy this…misunderstanding?” 

You hum in contemplation, gently tapping a finger to your pouted lips—an action his eyes can’t help but follow. 

“Hm, perhaps…” you say before glancing over your shoulder toward the crowded living room. 

While dancing isn’t something you normally gravitate toward, something in you wants to try. Although it’s a silly high school milestone you never expected to experience, you don’t want it to pass you by either. Especially with Eddie by your side.

Maybe it’s the trickle of confidence that’s surging through your veins or the underlying adoration in his eyes, but either way, you reach out and lace your fingers together. 

“Dance with me?” 

Eddie doesn’t hesitate before he grasps onto your hand, a dimple indenting his cheek as he grins down at you. 

“I’d be honored, sweetheart.” 

It takes all of your self control to hold back a small squeal of excitement, quickly leading him out of the kitchen and towards the heart of the party. You’ve barely made it to the threshold before you feel it. 

Warmth. 

Wet, sticky warmth splashes up onto your neck, dribbles down your chin and onto your chest. Soaking into the white cotton of your shirt and sticking to your skin, the red punch does you no favors as the lace of your bra is revealed through the fabric.

“Oops,” a sickly sweet voice croons, but the unmistakable snark in their tone tells you this was anything but an accident.

Roxy Carraway just smirks at you, now glancing down at her empty cup with a mock pout. Two of her friends flank her on either side, keeping you frozen in place.

A gazelle caught between three lionesses, their claws sharpened and teeth bared.

“Now I need another drink,” she whines, snapping her gum obnoxiously. “You know, you really should watch where you’re going, freak.”

She hisses, taking one glance at you and then the male behind you before flipping her blonde hair off her shoulder and striding past you into the kitchen.

You don’t say anything as she knocks her shoulder into yours, white hot shame blazing through you as you meet the eyes of several other party goers. Whispers and snickers of laughter begin to flow through the crowd that were there to bear witness to the interaction.

No one offers you a shred of remorse or pity as they continue on, the thump of bass dragging their attention elsewhere. Tears began to sting your eyes, lower lip wobbling.

Don’t let them see you cry.

When you turn to rush toward the front door a pair of strong arms envelope you, tugging you down the darkened hallway and away from the throngs of your peers.

“Hey, hey—are you okay, sweetheart?”

Eddie’s voice is more gentle than you’ve ever heard it but a newfound rage begins to simmer beneath the warmth of his irises. When all he receives in response is a small shake of your head, he carefully tugs you both into the small bathroom you’d been shoved into earlier by Nancy.

Only this time any ounce of excitement has been drained from your limbs.

When your eyes meet your reflection, you wince, noting the harsh red liquid that clings to your shirt. The fabric suctions to you like a second skin and accentuates the curve of your breasts from the bra beneath. But not in a way that makes you feel a lick of confidence.

Before you can stare for too long, Eddie guides you to take a seat on the lid of the toilet, grabbing a washcloth and wetting it beneath the stream of water. His ringed fingers catch in the harsh lighting as he wrings the rag out into the basin of the sink. The droplets slide over the rough calluses of his fingers.

Eddie turns to you then, sinking to his knees before you. He gently nudges your thighs apart before slipping between them, the stray water droplets soaking into the fabric of your knee-high stockings. His hands are warm where they rest against your upper thigh, the other gently gliding the washcloth over your chin and down your throat.

Despite your best efforts to remain calm and collected, your breath hitches in your throat—something the male doesn’t miss.

While you can see the small smirk that threatens to tug at the corner of his mouth, he says nothing. No teasing comment as he continues to clean the dried punch from your skin.

“I’m sorry this happened,” he mutters softly, that small smile now turning downwards into a frown. “You didn’t deserve that.”

You can tell by the mournful look that spreads across his features that there’s more he wants to say, but he refrains.

That should’ve been me.

While the words remain unspoken between you, you hear them loud and clear.

“It’s not your fault you know,” you whisper, eyes dancing along the strong features of his face. Memorizing each freckle that dots along the bridge of his nose and cheekbones. “They probably would’ve found another way to torment me tonight anyway.”

His hand stills once he reaches the curve of your chest, eyes flicking up for your permission before he delves into uncharted territory. But you are unable to hide your shy smile at his display of nerves.

With your nod of approval, Eddie continues on, fingers trembling slightly when the cloth dips past the collar of your shirt. He can feel the heat of your skin through the damp fabric, his body aching to feel that warmth melting into his own. 

But he keeps his composure, shifting slightly at the uncomfortable ache in his knees. You continue to watch him closely, that look of longing he’s witnessed for months now sparkling beneath your irises. 

Your gaze continues to travel lower, over his cheekbones until they reach his full lips. They’re pursed in concentration, just the tip of his tongue poking out from between his teeth. He continues to glide the damp cloth along your skin, wiping away the sticky residue. 

But Eddie can feel the weight of your stare. In a nervous yet teasing gesture, he glides his tongue over his lower lip. 

“Would it be weird if I wanted you to kiss me right now?” you whisper.

Eddie’s eyes flick up to meet yours, fingers hovering over the dip between your breasts. He swallows harshly, your eyes following the bob of his throat. But the corner of his mouth quirks up into a soft grin that has your heart stuttering beneath your ribs. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” he replies, washcloth dropping to the tile floor as he reaches to cup your cheeks. 

When your lips meet, you breathe out a sigh of relief, slipping your arms around his neck to tug him impossibly closer. Despite your newfound urgency, his movements are slow, gentle as he molds his mouth over yours. Almost as if he’s trying to memorize the feeling of your lips against his own. 

Your hands quickly find themselves in his wild hair, twirling the dark strands around the tips of your fingers. He groans softly when your nails scratch against his scalp, the deep rumble of it sends warmth blossoming beneath the surface of your skin. 

And soon, too soon he’s pulling away. 

The male is practically panting, gazing up at you with an almost dazed expression. But Eddie soon notes the small pout that’s beginning to form on your lips, leaning forward to press another tender kiss to your mouth. 

“How about we ditch this lame ass party?” he mumbles against your lips, earning a small hum of approval from you.

And he can’t help but press another kiss to your awaiting mouth. “We could go to my place, maybe rent a video…” He chuckles when you pull him in for another firm kiss. “Order a pizza? Large pepperoni—” 

“With olives,” you add, gently nipping his lower lip. 

The male groans low in his throat, lips ghosting over the edge of your jaw. 

“Half with olives,” he counters. 

“Deal,” you breathe, giving him one more spine tingling kiss before he begrudgingly rises to his feet. 

And when he begins to slip his jacket off his shoulders, your brows furrow in confusion, head tilting in a silent question. He just gives you a cheeky grin as he reaches to hook his fingers into the nape of his t-shirt. The male quickly pulls it over his head, his bare chest now on full display.

Before you have time to fully ogle the dark ink that swirls across his skin, he hands you the bright orange shirt. You can already feel the warmth of the fabric seeping into the palm of your hands, confusion still evident on your face whilst he shrugs the jacket back on.  

“There’s no way I’m letting those assholes get the last laugh, sweetheart,” he explains, motioning to your stained shirt. 

And your heart thuds at the implication, a half smile tugging at your lips. You eagerly slip the cardigan off your shoulders, reaching for the buttons on your blouse. You let out a soft giggle when Eddie quickly spins on his heel in an attempt to give you some privacy. 

Once you remove the ruined blouse, you gladly toss it in the wastebasket, slipping the borrowed shirt over your head. His scent hits you like a tidal wave, warm and spicy with a slight undertone of weed. It’s a smell you want to wrap yourself up in for days, have it imprinted on your skin forever.

You take another subtle whiff before you clear your throat and rise to your feet. The movement further closes the already short distance between you. 

“I’m decent,” you say finally.

You’re unable to hide your amusement when he turns around so quickly that he almost crashes straight into you. But his look of concern vanishes the moment your laughter rings in his ears, securing his arms around your waist. 

“What’s so funny, sweet thing?” he chuckles, head tilting down toward you. His wandering gaze now focused on your lips. 

“I thought you said we had to stop meeting like this, Eddie.” 

series taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 @blckbrrybasket @your-nightmaredoll @missmarch-99 @fandom-princess-forevermore @mylovelycrazyworld @princesssunderworld @scarlet-bitch @thecreelhouse @vamp-bunny @notwantingtoadult @keeksandgigz @josephquinnsfreckles

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART XI

—this must be the place

summary: two idiots who got their shit together and now love each other unconditionally.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). filthy smut, p in v, unprotected sex, lots of fluff, cursing, age gap, mentions of alcohol. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: hello besties, dual pov so watch out for that, and reminding everyone this is a work of fiction so just sit back and relax and enjoy! but if this isn't your thing, move along :)

masterlist!

January 18th, 2024

Los Angeles, CA

January was a whirlwind. Awards season came faster than either of you could’ve anticipated. After years of grueling work, both of you were at the pinnacle of your careers. The Golden Globes were just the beginning, and somehow, you found yourself receiving best actress nods at every award show that followed. Each time your name was announced, you were stunned—as if each award was a surprise gift wrapped in disbelief.

Pedro? He was right there beside you, proud, beaming, like he’d won every accolade himself.

And in a way, he had.

The Emmys came next. Pedro was dressed like a hot English teacher—a title you bestowed on him while posing for photos on the carpet. He blushed at your words, but his imagination clearly ran wild through the entire ceremony. You’d catch his mind drifting, the corners of his mouth twitching with thoughts you could only guess.

But when the time came, he lost his category. You turned to him with an exaggerated sad face, eyes wide, and before he could even fake another mournful look, you took his face between your hands and whispered in his ear, “You might be an Emmy loser, but you’re my Emmy loser, baby.”

He chuckled softly, a mix of amusement and adoration, his hand resting on your thigh, fingers tracing absentmindedly. “Maybe we can celebrate the loss later,” he teased, and you grinned, your shared laughter barely masked by the applause surrounding you.

February 25th, 2024

Los Angeles, CA

Pedro wore Prada that night. A crisp white button-down shirt, half the buttons undone, his chest peeking through like a prince stepping off a ship in some romantic novel. His hair was so much longer, curling softly around his ears, a curl decorating his forehead, and when you both arrived, you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

“You look dreamy,” you’d whispered, your hand lingering on his arm.

You shared a tequila shot for luck before the ceremony, a ritual that seemed to work for both of you. When Pedro’s name was called, you watched in awe as he walked up to the stage, shock evident on his face. He was adorable, overwhelmed, and completely unprepared, but still effortlessly funny.

"And thank you to my love for being my biggest supporter," he said during his speech, eyes finding you in the crowd. "I love you."

The audience roared with laughter as he joked about having a panic attack. You covered your face with your hands, laughing with him, but your heart swelled with pride. When your category came not long after, you got up there, thanked everyone, and finished with, “And last but not least, thank you to now SAG Award winner Pedro Pascal for also being my biggest supporter."

Later that night, you posted a picture of the two of you holding your statuettes, captioning it, “a couple of winners,” a nod to the moment and your shared triumph.

March had rolled faster than anticipated. The Oscars themselves were here, and there you were, sitting in the middle of Hollywood’s most glamorous circus, your name announced as a Best Actress nominee. The whole thing was surreal—like, pinch-me-I’m-dreaming kind of surreal.

Pedro sat next to you, gripping your hand for dear life. He had been holding it for the last half hour, unable to let go, which made you wonder if he was comforting you or himself. Maybe both.

You gave him a quick glance. He was calm on the outside, but you could tell by the subtle way his thumb kept moving over your knuckles that his nerves were bubbling underneath too. You squeezed his hand back, your silent way of saying, Hey, we got this, right? Though, in truth, you weren’t sure who “we” were anymore. You hadn’t breathed since they started announcing the nominees.

And then it came—the moment. The envelope opened, the pause, the suspense that felt like it dragged on for an eternity, and then... someone else’s name. Not yours.

The applause in the room felt both deafening and distant, like you were watching it all through a fog. You let out the breath you’d been holding since they called your name and tried to steady yourself. You smiled, clapping for the winner because, hey, they deserved it. But inside, you were thinking, Well, damn.

Before you could even process the mix of relief and mild disappointment, Pedro turned to you. His eyes were gentle but mischievous, the exact combination that both made you feel better and also a little nervous. He tilted his head, looking at you like he was about to drop the world’s most important line.

“You might be an Oscar loser,” he said, grinning that cheeky grin of his, “but you’re my Oscar loser.”

It took everything in you not to burst out laughing, because of course he would say that. But he leaned in and kissed your forehead, so sweet and sincere, that you felt your heart melt just a little. Leave it to him to make losing feel like a win.

You rolled your eyes, more at how much you loved him than anything else. “Nice one, P. I feel so much better now,” you teased, shaking your head.

"You did the same to me; I had to."

"That's just cruel."

You elbowed him, laughing despite everything. Because at the end of the day, you realized something—you hadn’t lost at all. You were sitting there with the person who made you laugh when you needed it most, who held your hand through the stress and teased you when you least expected it. And that, as far as you were concerned, was the best kind of win.

•••

The next few months were filled with so much love and so much laughter. Pedro went with you to every concert you had scheduled, sitting backstage or in the crowd with your friends, watching you command the stage. It became your new routine, traveling to different cities with Pedro beside you for each show.

June arrived, and with it, Pedro’s filming schedule kicked back into full gear. This time, though, it was a little different. Instead of the usual months of long-distance calls and late-night texts across time zones, he was filming in New York. That meant he came home every night to your shared brownstone.

It felt wonderfully domestic.

One evening, you were curled up on the couch, the windows open to let in a soft breeze. You could hear Pedro moving around in the kitchen, humming to himself as he tried to figure out what to make for dinner. He had arrived early today and insisted on taking care of it. The scent of garlic and olive oil was already beginning to fill the room.

You smiled to yourself, getting up to join him. “Need some help, Chef?” you teased, leaning against the doorframe as you watched him stir something in a pan, his brow furrowed in concentration.

He looked up, a grin spreading across his face when he saw you. “I’m handling it. Don’t worry, I’ve got everything under control.”

You raised an eyebrow, walking over to peek into the pan. “Uh-huh, that’s what you said last time."

“Okay, first of all, I told you that was ‘blackened’ for flavor,” he shot back, pointing the spatula at you. “And second, tonight’s different. I’m on it.”

You laughed, moving closer and slipping your arms around his waist from behind, resting your head against his back. “Mmm, smells good though. Maybe I’ll give you a pass this time.”

He leaned into your embrace, his free hand coming up to hold yours around his middle. “Only a pass?” he teased, turning his head slightly to catch your eye. “I was aiming for full marks.”

“You’ll have to earn that,” you replied, your voice playful as you squeezed him tighter. “What’s on the menu tonight?”

He twisted around in your arms to face you, a mock-serious expression on his face. “You are looking at a masterful creation of... stir-fry.”

“Fancy.”

“Very. It’s gourmet,” he said with a grin, pulling you closer. “It’s got vegetables and everything.”

You couldn’t help but laugh; the ease between you was just so comfortable.

It wasn’t about the food or the dinner itself—it was about the quiet rhythm of life you’d found together, the simple joy of these little moments. The kind of comfort that only comes from knowing someone so well and loving every bit of it.

As the food sizzled away on the stove, Pedro pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand still resting on your back. “I like this,” he murmured.

“What, my expert critique of your cooking? Because I can keep going."

He laughed softly. “No, I mean…this. Us. Coming home to you every night. It feels right.”

A smile spread across your face as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “It does, doesn’t it?”

He nodded, his eyes soft as he looked at you. “I could get used to this.”

“Well,” you said, grinning as you stood on your toes to kiss him, “good thing you’re stuck with me.”

He kissed you back, his lips warm and familiar, lingering just long enough to make you lose your train of thought. “Best decision I ever made,” he murmured against your lips, pulling you closer.

You smiled into the kiss, feeling the warmth of him seep into you, grounding you in the moment.

“Alright, mister. Let’s eat before your gourmet stir-fry turns into another ‘blackened’ creation.”

“Noted,” he laughed, turning back to the stove with you still wrapped around him.

July 25th, 2024

San Diego, California

The morning had a slowness to it that Pedro liked.

The two of you were still wrapped up in the sheets, limbs intertwined in a comfortable, familiar tangle. The sunlight crept lazily through the curtains. He felt your body stir next to his, your warmth pulling him further out of sleep. His lips found the curve of your shoulder, soft kisses trailing across your skin, while his fingers lazily traced patterns on your back.

"You nervous for today?" you asked, your voice still sleepy but carrying a smile that he could hear.

Pedro groaned slightly, his morning voice raspy. "A little," he admitted, his face half-buried in the pillow.

"You’ll be great. They’re going to eat you up," you said, teasing but reassuring, your lips brushing his neck. "Anything I can do to help?"

He smirked, his eyes still closed as his hand found its way down the small of your back, pulling you closer. "Actually, yeah… I’ve got a couple ideas."

You laughed, straddling him, your hair falling over your face as you leaned down for a slow, lingering kiss. The kind of kiss that promised more, the kind that was a language only the two of you spoke. Pedro’s hands moved with familiarity, tracing the lines of your body as if he were memorizing you all over again.

He discarded yours and his clothes too. Your perfect breasts in his face as soon as you straddled him again, knees on either side of his thighs as you sat down on his cock. His head fell back on the soft pillow as you dug your nails into his broad shoulders.

For a while, it was just your steady breathing as you rode him, smooth and constant. Your moans—a delicious symphony to his ears—filled the room, mingling with his own groans of pleasure. And then both of your movements became more urgent, and he held you down to his chest, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss.

"Fuck," he cursed, his hands gripping your back tightly as he pushed himself deeper inside you.

"Need-need you deeper."

He heard you say, and with a low growl, he complied. "Lay down."

You quickly got on your front, head turned to the side, ass in the air, and he entered you from behind. He filled you, slowly, centimeter by centimeter, stretching you in the most delicious way.

"Yes, yes, yes."

It fueled him to see you and hear you so fucked out and desperate for more.

"Goddamn," he breathed, pulling out before gliding in again, this time a little harder, a little deeper. He repeated the motion several times, each time pushing you into the bed harder and harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. It's filthy. His hands dug into your hips. Your moans grew louder—consuming him, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

You were close; he could tell by the way you were clenching around him. He cannot take it anymore. It's stupidly, brilliantly too good. Too intoxicating. He leans forward, chest pressed against your back, skin slick with sweat. "Come for me, baby."

He sees your eyes go blank as you reach your peak, your body shuddering with pleasure. The sight of you unraveling beneath him pushes him over the edge, and he follows right after you, his hips turning erratic, heat spreading inside him, and his release mixing with yours.

You don't move, and neither does he. He stays buried deep inside you, both of you trying to catch your breath and come back down from the euphoric high you just experienced together. The only sound in the room is heavy breathing and the occasional whisper of a kiss against your skin.

•••

Later, the chaos of Comic-Con surrounded him, but Pedro was good at playing it cool, even if he didn't really feel like it. He’d been in the industry long enough to know how to handle the intensity of the spotlight, but today, something felt a little more electrified. It could’ve been the crowds, but as soon as you arrived and caught sight of him, you couldn’t resist teasing him.

“Oh my god, what did Marvel give you?” you said, grinning up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “You look ten years younger—I’m scared.”

Pedro chuckled, turning a little and glancing down at himself. “It’s all smoke and mirrors, babe. You know that.”

"Right. Smoke, mirrors, and a little bit of Marvel magic."

You stole a quick kiss. "I'll be right here when you're done, P."

He loved how you could always ease him with just a few words. No matter the situation, no matter how chaotic or overwhelming things got, you had this way of cutting through the noise and grounding him. It was something he never took for granted, especially in moments like this—before the whirlwind, when he needed to remember who he was underneath it all.

"Now, get out there and win them over, handsome."

•••

Summer turned into fall; life became a blend of filming and fleeting moments of domestic bliss.

Pedro’s schedule took him to London for Fantastic Four, and you had your own projects to attend to, which meant falling back into the familiar rhythm of long-distance. It was tough—long nights filled with texts and video calls, stolen moments across time zones—but somehow, the two of you made it work. You'd promised you would.

One night, as you lay together in bed before your next trip, he whispered, “I’d rather have you 3 days a year than anyone else all the time.”

You smiled.

Weeks later, Pedro went back to New York after a short break and found solace in the little routines.

He loved coming home to you.

He found himself doing little things for you. He’d never been much of a "chores guy," but there was something solid about washing dishes while you hummed in the next room, or folding laundry. It made up for the time he spent away, the guilt he sometimes carried for being gone so much. Doing these little things felt like his way of making sure you always knew how much he loved you, even when he wasn’t physically there.

One night, after a particularly long day for you, you flopped into bed. He was finishing brushing his teeth in the bathroom. As he walked into the bedroom, he noticed the exhaustion in your eyes. You were sprawled out on the bed, your blouse slightly rolled up. He pressed a knee against the edge of the bed and hovered over you.

You looked up at him, your voice a soft whisper. “You’re the only calm thing in my life.”

Pedro’s heart swelled at that, his mouth instinctively forming a smile. “And you’re the best kind of chaos in mine,” he teased, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. But beneath the joke was something deeper—a truth he felt in every fiber of his being. You had become his home.

He crawled back down slowly, peppering you with gentle kisses along your neck and sternum. You unbuttoned your blouse as he continued to trail kisses down your body. Each one a promise.

He bit your hip playfully, leaving a faint mark, and when the red faded, he did it again.

You laughed, the sound light and full of affection. “Always leaving your signature.”

“All part of the service."

•••

As fall settled, Pedro found himself reflecting on everything that had led him to this moment—this life he had built with you. All his lonely days, all the times he had doubted whether love like this would ever find him, seemed like a distant memory now. Everything he had been through had led him to this.

And there wasn’t a single part of him that wasn’t grateful.

As he watched you move around the London flat he had rented, his home for the next few months, catching you mid-laugh or lost in your own world, he felt whole. Complete. Every piece of his life had finally fallen into place.

And he knew, without a doubt, that there would never be a time when he had enough of you. You were his everything, and he would always come back.

Always.

a/n: the end!! sad because i'm gonna miss them so much :( but happy to have finished this the right way. thank you everyone who reads, likes, reblogs and leaves a kind message <3

[babygirlwritessmut]

♡︎ part10. tickets

・❥・pairing: vi (arcane) x fem!reader

・❥・ summary: Vi`s weird behavior bothered you, later she decided to have a serious conversation about the future of your relationship

・❥・ genre: smut + grumpy x sunshine

・❥・ word count: 1.6k

✎ warnings: 18+, SMUT, sub!vi, fingering, oral sex, fluff

MINORS DNI!

RIDE ON ME masterlist

“yes, cupcake, don't stop,” - Vi's legs were on your shoulders as your tongue moved over her wetness. it seemed like you two were planning to make dinner together, but one thing led to another, and now she was lying on the couch while you were pleasuring her. there wasn't a single spot in this apartment where you hadn't enjoyed each other.

when your fingers slipped inside her, she tangled her hand in your hair and arched her back. you increased your pace, sucking harder on her clit. her body began to tense up, and you knew she was on the edge. pressing on that soft, tender spot inside her, she moaned louder and came. letting go of your hair, Vi tried to catch her breath.

“what are you doing to me?” - she said, and you just smiled in response. as she regained her composure, she kissed you. your lips still tasted like her, and lately, the two of you had become even closer, almost like one entity.

the holidays were going wonderfully, you finally had a break from studying and felt recharged. after a quick shower, you both found yourselves back in the kitchen. this time, you finally managed to cook a delicious dinner, and while watching a movie, you spent the evening wrapped in each other’s arms.

the next morning, Vi seemed a bit nervous. she left the apartment while you were still asleep, and when she returned, she didn't say where she'd been. when you tried to ask what was going on, she simply said there was no reason to worry.

you spent the day together again, but every time her phone rang, she would go into another room and close the door. you knew something strange was happening, but you couldn't figure out what it was.

this went on for a few days until your patience ran out.

“Vi, what's going on? I trust you, but your behavior has been a little different,” - you said, your voice was uneasy. you were used to sharing everything with each other, but now she seemed to be pulling away.

“everything's fine, there's no...”

“yes, yes, no reason to worry. I've heard that before, but I’d really like to know the real reason.”

Vi paused for a moment before speaking, - “there's something I want to talk to you about. can we meet tonight?”

“meet? why can't we just go together?” - you asked, realizing she was about to leave again.

“I have to go in ten minutes, but please, come to this café at 7. I have something to tell you,” - she said, getting up and avoiding eye contact.

"no, not this"

your thoughts were racing as she moved around the room in a rush. you watched her gather her things and walk out the door.

the whole day you were alone, unable to settle. "something bad happened, I can feel it," - you kept thinking. you were ready to leave as early as 5 o'clock, somehow believing that starting to get ready sooner would speed up time, but instead, you spent the next hour and a half sitting on the couch, waiting.

when the time finally came, you headed towards the café, feeling worse with every step. a few tears fell down your cheek as you realized what might be happening, but you were too scared to say it out loud. the café was almost empty when you arrived, and you took a seat at the table, waiting. minutes felt like hours, and your face grew pale.

right at 7, Vi walked in, sat down with you, and greeted you. you don’t remember if you said anything back, your heart was pounding, and her body seemed tense. "please, no."

“cupcake, I know I've been spending too little time with you these days,” - Vi began. “I'm sorry for that,” - she said, her eyes darting around nervously.

“what I’m about to say... I don’t expect you to...” - for some reason, she struggled to find the right words, and it was clear from her expression that she was incredibly nervous.

"Vi, please"

“we've spent so much time together, but I...” -she was struggling to find the words – “I can't do this anymore...”

"no, no, no" -  tears welling up in your eyes.

“I just want to say that...” - it felt like torture, her words weren't forming a complete sentence, and you decided to take the initiative.

unable to hold back, you said, - “if you want to break up with me, you didn't need to wait. why did you bring me here? so people could see me cry?” - your voice trembled. “I thought we were fine.”

Vi looked at you and finally realized that you were crying. when her hand reached out to wipe your tears, you pulled away.

“what are you doing?” - you said, starting to get angry. “just end it already.”

“cupcake, there's nothing to end,” - she said, her face showing a whirlwind of emotions. you couldn't understand what was wrong, but it didn't seem to matter anymore.

“what are you talking about? didn't you say you were happy to be my girlfriend?” - it seemed like some of the people in the café had started paying attention, listening to your conversation.

“I did, that's not what I…“

“not what you want? I already figured that out, and now I just want to leave,” - you said, feeling too humiliated to stay any longer. you started putting on your jacket and stood up to leave.

“cupcake, sit down,” - her tone turned firm, which caught you by surprise. “sit down, please, and let me explain.”

you didn't want to make a scene because almost everyone in the café was watching you.

“the reason I asked you here today is not to break up with you,” - she said, and your eyes widened in surprise. “if my dear girlfriend had let me finish a sentence, she would have known that today is a special day.” - Vi finally started to smile, and you felt a little warmth return.

“as you know, you're not just my girlfriend, you're also my roommate,” - she winked at you – “we moved in together six months ago.” - Vi took your hand in hers.

“in my whole life, I've never met anyone like you. cupcake, you amaze me every day and make me want to be a better person,” - she said, speaking with more confidence.

“as I was trying to say from the beginning, we've spent a lot of time together, but I can't keep my feelings bottled up anymore. it's hard for me to express them, so it takes me a while,” - she said, taking a deep breath while still holding your hand.

“I love you, cupcake. so much,” - Vi said, looking into your eyes, her fingers gently tracing over your hand. inside, everything was turning upside down, the rush of words and emotions was so overwhelming that you didn't know where to start. you saw a hint of panic appearing on her face.

“Vi, I love you too...” - you said, still with tears glistening on your face. “I feel so ashamed. when you were avoiding me these past few days, I thought you wanted to...”

“never,” - she interrupted the flow of your negative thoughts. “but I won't lie, you did upset me a little. how could you think that?” - her eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise.

you decided not to answer, the shame you felt in that moment was overwhelming. you squeezed her hand tighter and lowered your head.

“then why were you acting so strange these past few days?” - you asked, still seeking an answer to the question that had been bothering you. without responding, Vi stood up from the table and went over to the waiter. they exchanged a few words, and then she returned to you.

“you deserve the best. I wanted to surprise you,” - she said, just as the waiter approached your table with a pot of fragrant tea and a slice of pie for each of you. Vi thanked the waiter and continued, - “you've spent so much time with me, you've opened up to me completely, and as a gesture of gratitude and my love to you, I want to give you this.”

she pulled a white envelope out of her pocket. turning it over in your hands, you started to open it. your hands were shaking, but eventually, you managed to pull out what was inside. they were tickets. you looked at Vi in disbelief.

“after the next semester ends, I'd like to go on a trip with you. I want to give you the whole world,” - she said, looking at you like she was afraid you might vanish at any moment.

“I... I don't know what to say,” - you said, trembling as you felt hot tears streaming down your face again. “I love you, this is incredible. thank you, thank you!” - you moved closer to her and started kissing her.

“I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me, I was just so afraid of losing you,” - you said, burying your face in her neck.

“that will never happen. I love you too, cupcake."

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

I'm a bit sad that this story has come to an end, but at the same time, I'm happy that I had the chance to share my thoughts with you. I am immensely grateful to everyone who read and shared my first creation. without your support, I wouldn't have made it through. I really hope that you found it interesting. once again, thank you so much! ♡︎

[storiesofsvu]

City Views

Rafael Barba x reader warnings: language, smut, oral, a form of cock warming i guess? lol, dirty talking, cum shot. requested: yup. can't remember who lol. Havent written for Barba or watched his eps in a while so hopefully this isn’t ooc.

Rafael was in his home office later than he had originally planned, one thing simply turned into another and another and another, the next thing he knew the small pile of paperwork had become a mountain. Normally this was just a minor frustration, but tonight was supposed to be date night.

When you’d first gotten home you’d checked in, leaving a kiss on the top of his head, asking how long he thought he would be. An hour and a half later and you were back, sliding a glass of scotch onto his desk with a small sigh and a raised brow that silently asked when he was going to close up shop. An hour after that you’d given up hope for stage one, wandering back into the office to place a take out container on his desk, making sure that he at least ate. Every intrusion pulled his focus, causing him to lose his train of thought and have to start all over again, even if you didn’t actually say anything. Which is why when the door creaked open again he let out a huff, his pen lifting up off the paper as he started to speak.

“If you interrupt me one more time so help me god I will—” He completely forgot how to speak when his eyes moved from the paper in front of him to the doorway and his mouth practically started to water.

You’d changed out of your clothes, a simple yet stunning black lace three piece set hugging your skin perfectly, adorned with light pink flowers, though the kicker was Rafael’s favourite shirt draped over your shoulders, hanging open in the front so he could get a glimpse of the lingerie. You let out a small chuckle, sauntering through the room up to the side of his desk and your fingers curled under his chin, closing his mouth.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“I...” he started, gulping as his eye swept over your body, lingering on the swell of your chest and you smiled.

“See something you like?”

“I most certainly do.” His hands came to grip your hips, tugging you towards him as they slid up your sides, spreading warmth across your skin, “querida you look amazing, but you know I have to finish this.”

“No one said anything about you stopping.” With a smirk you sunk to your knees, hands spreading his legs so you could settle between them, “I’m sure I can find something to keep me occupied.”

“Christ.” Muttering, he shook his head at you, nudging you backwards slightly so his chair was closer to the desk and he picked up his pen again.

Only a moment later your hands were softly rubbing up and down the inside of his thighs, squeezing every so often and every time he glanced down he had a perfect view of your cleavage, pushed up by the fancy bra, your nipples nearly peaking over the top of the lace. He took a deep breath, feeling himself twitching in his pants already and did his best to focus on the work in front of him.

Your hands continued to rub up his thighs, one of them coming even higher to palm at his cock through his pants and he let out a groan, unable to control his hips rocking toward the touch. You continued to grope him, smirking at the feeling of him starting to get hard, knowing just what kind of an affect you were having on him. Your hands reached up to his belt, undoing the buckle before slipping into his pants, pulling them down a few inches to pull his cock out and he let out a hiss.

You spat into your hand before wrapping it around him, beginning to lazily stroke, letting out a needy whine as he got hard, twitching in your hand. Above you he let out a soft sigh, his eyes briefly closing, fingers clenching around his pen before he attempted to shake out of it.

“You like that?” You asked, a smirk in your voice as your hand tightened around him, squeezing ever so softly and a drop of pre-cum began to leak out of his tip.

“You know I do.” He groaned, hips rocking toward you, thrusting his cock further into your hand.

“If this is too distracting I could always just play with myself…” You teased, your hand leaving him and trailing down your own body. You barely got it to the waist of your panties before Rafael let out a low growl, catching your other wrist in his hand, tugging you closer to him.

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head, “you know better than that.”

Grinning, you leant forward on your knees, your hands braced on his upper thighs and your tongue darted out to wet your lips, “you want me to suck your cock while you work? Keep you nice and warm and hard until you’re finally ready to fuck me?” You licked a broad stripe up from the base of his cock to the tip, flicking it, lapping up the pre-cum as you did so and he twitched again, “stretch my pussy out, fuck me nice and deep, filling me up completely.” Your words were accented by kisses along his shaft, sucking at the sensitive skin, “I’m wet already just thinking about it.”

Rafael’s free hand tangled into your hair, redirecting your mouth so he could drive his cock between your lips, “then get to work.”

“Mmmhm.” You mumbled back, slowing sinking down on his cock until the tip of it hit the back of your throat.

You held yourself there, tongue drawing patterns across his cock, tracing the veins as you moaned around him, sucking him deeper into your mouth, feeling him throb. You hollowed your cheeks, relaxing your throat so he could press even further into you. You could hear the scratching of his pen as he scribbled through whatever he was working on, but you could also hear that his breathing was getting laboured. Rafael began to shift uncomfortably in his seat, your mouth incredibly warm and wet around him, holding him there, tickling at his cock with your tongue. He twitched inside your mouth, letting out a quiet swear when you moaned around him, the vibration enough to make him stall in his words. You could feel the drool pooling in the corners of your mouth beginning to leak out of your lips, smearing around the base of his cock and you finally pulled off, taking a gasping breath.

Your hand replaced your lips, stroking up and down his length while your mouth moved down to his balls, sucking them into your mouth, your tongue toying with them. A groan left your lips as you rubbed your thighs together, pussy pulsing around nothing, eager for Rafael’s cock to fill you up. Your mouth slipped off his balls, a string of drool connecting the base of his cock to your lips and you glanced up at him with a smirk when you felt his eyes on you.

“God you’re so pretty like this…” he mumbled, his hand caressing your cheek gently, thumb tracing the outline of your lips and you were quick to suck it into your mouth. “Such a good little cock sucker.”

He pulled his thumb out of your mouth, causing you to chase after it, your lips landing on the head of his cock when he wrapped his hand around it, redirecting it into your mouth before his hand moved to the back of your head. He guided you up and down, pressing ever so lightly on your head when you deep throated him, setting up a languid pace for you to bob on his cock. As relaxed as you were, you weren’t afraid to start to make a bit of a mess, spit slicking his length, coating your lips, smearing across the crotch of his pants, a bit of drool dripping down your chin.

Rafael could feel his heart racing in his chest, the sounds coming from below him were driving him absolutely wild and he knew by the way you’d began rocking your hips in time with your bobbing that your pussy was completely drenched. His writing was getting sloppier and he knew he was going to have trouble reading it in the morning, but the thoughts of work were slowing slipping from his mind as the only thing he began to worry about was the feeling of you choking on his dick. He managed another sentence before tossing down his pen and letting out a louder moan, leaning back into his chair and closing his eyes.

You pulled off his cock with a lewd pop, a small giggle escaping your wet lips, “finished?”

“Something else came up.” He muttered, smirking down at you and you chuckled, still stroking him.

“Certainly did.” With a wink you wrapped your lips around his cock again, picking up the pace as his hips began to rock up to meet your mouth, hands tangling into your hair again. You took him as deep as you could, hands massaging his balls and he grunted, throbbing in your mouth before he finally pulled you off, leaving you panting.

“If you keep that up you’re gonna make me come.” His hands slid down to your shoulders, yanking you up and into his lap, where his hand found its way between your legs, cupping your heat, “and considering you’ve ruined these panties it would be a waste to not feel that gorgeous pussy.”

With a quick smirk Rafael leant in, catching your lips in a kiss, groaning over the taste of himself in your mouth as your tongues quickly started rolling against one another. His arms wound around you, holding you close as he stood up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. You couldn’t resist grinding your clothed cunt against his hard on, your panties dampening from both sides now. He crossed the room to the couch across from his desk, gently dropping you onto it.

“Why don’t you get rid of that excuse for underwear?” He asked, his hands making quick work of his shirt, letting it drop to the floor behind him.

Your hands reached up behind your, un clasping the bra and tossing it aside, “you could just pull them to the side?”

“God you’re feeling dirty tonight, aren’t you?” Rafael grinned, stepping toward you so he could cup your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples and you let out a happy sigh that morphed into a moan when he pinched at them, gripping the flesh harder.

“Got bored,” your eyes fluttered shut as he continued to play with your tits, “watched a few videos…”

“And were you touching yourself?”

“Only over my panties.”

“Good girl.�� His hands left your chest, one cupping your cheek to direct you into a kiss before he shoved his pants down, “now get up on your knees and turn around.”

You eagerly did as asked, bracing yourself on the back of the couch and sticking your ass out as Rafael dimmed the lights in the room, making the view through the darkened window come a little more to life. Stories above the city streets below, the skyline full of sparkling lights, night sky twinkling with stars, you were high enough there was a very little chance of anyone seeing you, but the thrill was still there and sent shivers through your body. Rafael’s hands soothed up your thighs, pulling your cheeks apart before his fingers slipped into your thong, pulling it off to the side to expose your glistening pussy.

“God you’re just fucking drenched.” He muttered, bending over you to swipe his tongue through your folds, pulling a gasp from your lips as he sucked on your cunt for a moment, growling at the taste of your juices. “Always so sweet querida.” Two of his fingers easily sunk into you and you couldn’t help but push back onto them, whining as your eyes fluttered shut and he chuckled, “and already ready for me… you really are needy tonight.”

“Raf.. please…” Your head fell forward onto your forearms, practically panting in need as his fingers danced across your body, a feather light touch on your skin that left fire in its tracks.

“God you’re so hot when you beg.” He replied, hand wrapping around his cock as he guided it your leaking cunt.

He rutted against you, cock sliding through your folds, smearing your juices all along it and you let out a long moan, body shaking as wetness leaked out of you. It wasn’t a want, it was a need, your pussy absolutely throbbing, your clit swollen and sensitive, twitching every time his dick rubbed past it. He finally gave you some relief when the head of his cock nudged at your cunt and your body relaxed, a sigh escaping your lips as he sunk deeper into your heat inch by inch.

“Fuck…” You groaned, pushing your hips back toward him, making sure every inch of him was fully seated inside your throbbing cunt.

“You’re squeezing me so tight already, shit.”

Rafael braced his hands on your hips, starting to pull his cock out until only the tip was left inside you before he sunk all the way in again, moaning right along with you. You were perfect, pussy fitting him like a fucking glove, pulsing around him like heaven, just the way he craved, the way he loved. He couldn’t help but set a steady pace, knowing you were both so riled up already he didn’t want to waste time but also didn’t want to come instantly. Each thrust of his hips were met with a little squeak or whimper from you, the harder ones earned moans, soft swears, his name tumbling from your lips like a sweet prayer.

“S-so good.” You groaned out, gripping the back of the couch harder when Rafael circled his hips, cock hitting every spot of your walls.

“Take me so well.” He husked, picking up the pace, a hand sliding up your back until it tangled into the roots of your hair, tugging your head up so you could see the faint reflection in the dark window.

“Fuck…”

“Like that don’t you?” He chuckled, “bet you wish they could see how you take my cock, hmm? How messy this little pussy is? God you’re dripping down your thighs that’s how much you like the way I fuck you, isn’t it?”

“Mmhmm.” You managed out, a strangled moan breaking free from your throat, “ ‘m close…so close…”

Rafael knew what you were begging for, and he knew he wasn’t far behind you, hand winding around you to find your clit, pads of his fingers rubbing at it, pressing harder with each circle. You were slick with wetness, clit hard and throbbing under his fingers while your pussy pulsed around his cock, juices coating it, squelching noises and the sound of skin on skin bouncing off the walls of the room.

“Come for me querida, come all over my cock.” He grunted, feeling himself throb inside you, his hips beginning to lose their rhythm, stuttering against yours as you cried out, pussy clamping down around him as your juices dribbled out, leaking down your thighs.

“Fuck!”

It was only a second later that he groaned, his hips hitting yours, cock deep inside your cunt as his cum shot out of him, coating your walls and you let out another whimper at the sensation. He squeezed at the base of his dick, making sure to fill you with as much cum as he could, your pussy milking every last drop out of him. He dropped his torso over yours, holding you flush to him as he panted, messy kisses pressed to the back of your shoulders as your bodies trembled together.

“Oh my god…” He mumbled and you laughed softly, shifting to collapse to the couch underneath him, whining when his cock slipped from you.

“Still mad about the interrupting?” You asked with a smirk as you rolled over and it was his turn to laugh.

“Absolutely not.”

_____________________

@fandom-princess-forevermore @thatesqcrush @alexusonfire @bisexualcrowley @detective-giggles @plaidbooks @averyhotchner @beccabarba @permanentlydizzy @prurientpuddlejumper @letsdisneythings @neely1177 @mrsrafaelbarba @lv7867 @bisexual-dreamer02 @skittle479 @amelia-song-pond @madamsnape921 @altsvu @svulife-rl @caracalwithchips @mysticfalls01 @ssaic-jareau @barbasbodaciousbeard @alwaysachorusgirl @beardedbarba @michael-rooker @rafivadafreddy @darkheart-brightsmile @australiancarisi @ex-uallyactive @lawandorderuswnt @lustvolle-liebe @sia2raw @narvaldetierra @lannister-slings-and-arrows @poisonedcrowns @anlin2058 @xoxabs88xox @momlifebehard @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @godard-muse @somethingimaginative17 @alexxavicry @dextur @onmykneesformarvel @kmc1989 @valentinesfrog @silversprings-mp3 @wittygutsy

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

You know, all I want is to spend some time with Nikto on his off-days and have him read Dostoyevski to me, if you don't want to make this like a single fic you can maybe incorporate it into "ravishing allure" some time later 🥹

"…and there can be no love otherwise."

PAIRINGS: Nikto x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: If anyone could make the bad days better, it was Nikto.

WORDCOUNT: 2.3k

WARNINGS: Stress from work/life, lack of sleep, mostly fluff, comfort, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

There were times you wondered if putting up with your job was really worth it. Sure, you needed the money to pay rent, food, and bills, among a laundry list of others that just seemed to never end, but was the cost of your sleep the metaphorical soul you had to hand over? 

Every day you came home tired to your little apartment—neighbors loud and the light in the bathroom flickering because the electrician had never shown up to fix it. Tired, but unable to fall asleep until everything else was done. So, you’d make dinner, clean, shower, sit down to mindlessly watch a show on TV for half an hour, and then stumble into bed. 

Only to stay awake and stare at the ceiling. 

You can’t say why you do it, thinking over the things you did wrong and the awkward conversations you have with coworkers; you shouldn’t care about it—really, you shouldn't. Yet you can’t stop your brain from slipping like a slide to every instance, every millisecond where you felt the air of the interaction change. Side-eyes and confused looks. 

And then at six o’clock, you’d drag yourself out of bed with bags on your face and a drained expression to do it all over again. 

“Hi, how can I help you today?” 

“Oh, of course, we have some in the back—I’ll go grab it for you.”

“Thank you! You have a good day now, Sir. Come back soon.”

It just felt fake. Greet, help, take money, wave and smile, repeat, repeat, repeat. But maybe today would be slightly different, by the second pair of shoes that were placed in your apartment entry as you slowly opened the front door. 

Boots—black and set an equal distance apart with a cleaned surface despite the places they’d been and what they’d probably stepped through. They were neatly situated under the small bench you had for convenience, and you blink at them as you softly shut the door and lock it. A large, and matching in color, jacket was folded and placed atop the flat surface—keys sitting in an indent. 

Nikto, ever the neat and tidy one. He must be back then. 

While the two of you didn’t live together, the bear of a man had made a habit of coming over when he returned from deployments with KorTac—you’d given him a key the second year you’d been together. 

Your ears faintly twitch to the sound of cooking, nose moving just a second later to the scent of something on the stove. Clinking pans and silent footsteps. He knew you were here, sure as anything. Weakly sighing, you shift out of your jacket and shoes; tossing them in the general direction of the bench as you rub at your eyes and drop your purse to the floor with a slap of canvas. 

How do you explain looking like shit? 

Shuffling into the kitchen, you undo some of the buttons on your blouse to let yourself breathe, dress pants running along the carpet as your feet pad like a hound’s slapping paws. Vision blurry and eyelids threatening to close on you, you find the tall man in front of the stove, moving something in a pan with sizzling oils with the wide flex of his shoulders.

On another burner, there’s a large pot of simmering water—the counter has already been cleaned up of flour and mess, a tidy pile of dirty items sitting in the sink to be washed. You stare for a second before you grumble a hello, forcing your body to sag into his back as you walk over and slap your forehead into his spine. 

Nikto grunts lowly in response and continues what he’s doing. 

While it wasn’t rare to find him in the kitchen—in fact, you prefer it when he cooks—but usually when he got back you opted to order supper. He always insisted, gruffly, that he wasn’t tired, but you just wanted him to relax.

It was fun to baby him. 

“Didn’t know you were going to be back today,” you whisper into him, arms hanging by your sides. 

“We were released early,” his voice is deep and harsh—a bark of his Russian accent and rasp. Every word is thought out and said with purpose. “Conflict in schedule.”

You hum lowly, and it’s immediately after that Nikto stiffens, back going straighter. It’s the fact that you don’t even notice that you’ve completely screwed up your own routine that tips him off; how your change in pace had made him initially suspicious as he’d heard you enter the apartment. 

You hadn't commented on his eyes. Hadn’t tried to get him to turn around to see them. 

There was a running gag that Nikto tolerated—you’d grab him carefully by the chin and tilt his blank eyes to you in all of their icy glory. Sparks of glass and chilled storms inlay near the pupils. You’d stare, smile, and then say, “Yup, he’s still in there.” 

Even if you couldn’t see it under his balaclava, Nikto’s lips would part and he’d study your face for a minute in silence, before lightly bonking his forehead to yours. A strange and unique kiss that only he could perfect in his intimidating way. 

You hadn’t even attempted that. 

Nikto puts down the fork he was using to push around the fried potatoes and mushrooms; Pelmeni still simmering in the pot for another five minutes. The cut-up dill and melted butter on the counter are pushed from his mind with a purpose in his veins.

“What is wrong with you?” Nikto turns and you stifle a fatigued snort as you look up at him. It wasn’t his fault, of course. English isn’t his first language, and you found his broken, or sometimes bare-bones blunt, sentences to be endearing.

“Such a way with words, hm?” You can’t help but tease, and you can see the annoyed furrow of his brown brows, nose huffing a breath. “Just tired, Nikto.” Your words make his gaze slide along the very visible bags and the red veins of your eyes. 

He mutters something in Russian under his breath, lids narrowing on you as he grasps your shoulders and moves you back so he can look you up and down slowly in a near clinical breakdown of atoms. As if he can peel back clothes and splay nerves to light. 

“You look horrible…Sickly.” You can see the brain working as your lips go into a line to stay off your loud laugh. “Like dead woman walking.”

He was so much better with actions than words, this beast of wide shoulders and shifting thighs that could crush your bones to dust in an instant. You liked that about him—you never had to guess when he was being genuine or not.

“Work’s been rough,” you chuckle lowly, sliding on a fake smile that doesn’t fool him for a second. “Nothing I can’t…figure out, okay? Thanks for making supper, I love when you cook.”

Nikto’s eyes soften just a smidge, his hands holding your flesh just the littlest bit tighter. His expansive chest rises and falls in a heavy sigh, the bulk of his stomach and pecs visible under the tucked black t-shirt and his spare cargo pants.

Without a word, you’re being lifted with little more than a huff of, “моя нежная девочка… keep awake.”

You squeak as you’re settled onto his shoulder, hanging off like a sack of grain as his arm wraps over the top of your tailbone—large other hand on your thigh and fingers firmly grasping your skin. 

“Nikto—!”

“Hush,” he grunts, a bark of a chuckle wafting out as your hand playfully hits his back with a pathetic slap. The man raises a brow, smirking under his face covering. “What do you expect to do with that, girl?” 

“To let you know,” you poke at his spine and he shifts your farther down his shoulder in retaliation as you scramble and grasp at his shirt; giggling as your head sways to his steps. “That I won't go quietly!” 

“Good to know,” he grumbles. “I would want nothing less, eh?” 

His hands make sure that you don’t fall, even if you were to start wiggling or slipping.

You go limp and let him carry you into the living room, face burning with appreciation as your limbs let themselves rest. Nikto slings you back over his shoulder and drops you to the couch as you laugh, head purposely hitting the pillow as your chest rises and falls with breaths. 

The man stares down at you as you chuckle in gasps, always one to stare at any chance he gets. His arms crossed at his chest, feet apart, and shadow slipping over you from the overhead light. You gaze up silently, a smile on your lips, and quizzically raise to your brow.

“Stay,” is what he says to you, icy vision sliding down your body with a hum of approval. He sends a teasing slap to your thigh before striding back into the kitchen, narrowly missing your leg kicking out at his arse. 

Nikto scoffs at your attempt and disappears.

Normally you’d run at him and jump on his back, hanging off like an animal, but being as fatigued as you are, you call a mumbled curse at his name and curl sideways. Your face nuzzles into the pillow, smiling lightly before you let your eyes momentarily close.

You must have taken a quick nap because it seemed not even a second later that you were being shaken awake by a hand on your arm; spreading up to run over your cheek as your lashes flutter. “Милая.” You sigh, vision blurry and your head pounding. A strong scent hits your nose and you perk—rubbing at your eyes and face. “Eat.”

A plate of fried potatoes with mushrooms and another bowl of Pelmeni are on the coffee table, and the former is shoved into your face by a strong hand, the small dumplings topped with melted butter and dill. 

“Pelmeni,” Nikto states in a monotone, blinking at you as if you don’t know his own culture’s food by now. He made them often enough, which was why you liked him so much—food was truly the way to your love.

You’d taken up baking some of Nikto’s favorite desserts once, had failed horribly, and left most of the kitchen work to him—but the funny thing was that whenever you did bake, the man still always cleaned his plate. You’d never seen him turn down your food, even when you could see his eyes scrunch with restrained aversion.

“Да,” he would grunt out, “good.” It was so strained you always laughed so hard your lungs hurt after. On the off-hand, Nikto’s skills in the kitchen were enough to get you to sell your car for just another bite. 

Sitting up, you carefully take the bowl and look up at him, smiling deeply. 

“Thank you, Nik.” The man hums and turns his head away, still unused to outright affection even two years in. “Nikto~” you draw out his name, tilting your head to the side and trying to catch his gaze again. 

“Silence, woman,” he growls with no real heat, huffing before carefully placing his forehead to yours again as you expected him to. You giggle and stare into his eyes smugly. 

You knew what he was waiting for. Your blood runs hot, face going into a picture of care. His blues blink at you as snowflakes mingle with mist; a mix of cold and desolate landscapes that offer no reprieve from harm besides the small glint of fire they gain when they lock with yours. 

“Yup,” you whisper, and Nikto’s shoulders loosen as he presses more deeply into your skin. “He’s still in there.” 

He stares intensely, and the faintest of twitches under his balaclava tell you all you need to know. 

Nikto makes sure you eat your fill and when you’re done he takes the dishes and washes them while you shower and get into pajamas. Sluggish, but warmed by a full stomach and your boyfriend’s care. You come out to find he’s already reclining on the couch, book in hand as the other bends behind his neck. Lights were low and the heat turned up. Nikto opens his side to you and your body snuggles next to him—it had taken a long time to earn his trust like this; to be near him and to freely give affection.

It would be longer still until you saw his face, but you can live with that. There was no rush, and you knew it was a large soft spot even if he’d never shared the details as to why.

You sigh deeply and Nikto grunts, moving his arm behind your back and keeping you to his chest as he reads. 

This is a common sight from him, and he begins reading to you in his mother tongue from the works of Fyodor Dostoevsky, the grit and gravel of his voice sliding into words and sensations as you practically feel it coming from his chest and throat. Your head situates itself under his chin, feeling his free hand playing with your hair until you go brain-dead except to the way he feels and sounds. Harsh words had never been more gentle.

Halfway through he switches to English, his sentences now more slow and thought out and your lashes flutter; breath soft as you take in his scent of oakmoss and amber. His heart beats steady and true. 

“‘To love is to suffer,’” he reads, fingers rubbing circles into your clothes and letting you sleep as the day grows faster into a cold night. He glances down with easy eyes, gripping you just a bit closer as your body entirely goes limp in his embrace. “‘...And there can be no love otherwise.’” 

He silences himself and watches for a moment before he closes the book, dropping it silently to the coffee table and staring past you at the ceiling. The man feels your warmth bleed into his scarred and damaged skin and whispers something akin to vindication.

Nikto listens to your steady breathing and holds you. Steady. Noiseless. 

He grunts to himself and only presses you closer.

TAGS:

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