#more like um a wish in the wind

[plush-rabbit]

Cookies and Cream

I saw someone on the jonathan ohnn x reader tag ask for angst and rejection and im kinda in a mood (when am i not tbh) so here’s a snippet!! 

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: Realistically, i would like take a chance, but like also if my partner showed up with spots and no clothes, i’d be like oh:^) im about to make an important decision:^)

He’s a nerd- that’s a given with his profession and PhD, but he’s a dorky type of nerd that makes you smile. You like to think that you have a nice relationship with the doctor. He’s cute and awkward. He knows what you like and dislike.

You remember him buying you chocolate- the cookies and cream type- and knew that there was something going on when you don’t eat the candy. Explaining how you have such an aversion to spotted things always seemed silly when explaining to others- you always tripped over your words or never explained it properly- but he sat and listened. He nodded, and never brought you cookies and cream chocolate ever again.

Jonathan was considerate. He was a sweetheart, always so gentle and only really let his guard down when around you. 

It’s been days since the Super-Collider exploded and it’s been days since you heard from Jonathan. You tried not to fear the worst; you reasoned to yourself that if something had happened, something bad, you would have been notified. 

You’re in the middle of scouring various articles for any mention of the deceased or lost and his name doesn't pop up. Your mouth pulls into a thin line and you groan, throwing your head back in an attempt to let out your frustration.

“Any sign of him would work out just fine,” you mumble to yourself. You pull yourself back, an arm going across to rub at your shoulder. “I just-” tears prick at your eyes. You want him to be safe. Alive. Here with you. “Please,” you beg under your breath. You just want your partner with you. 

In the room, you hear a soft plop. When you look back at the room, there’s a person in a white suit standing in your living room. You scream, grabbing at the nearest object- the television remote- and chuck it at the intruder. They yelp in response, moving awkwardly to the side, throwing something dark at the object and the remote clashes beside you, batteries spilling out.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” The person screams, hands covering their head. “I should have said something, but I only just came in.”

“Get the fuck out!” You reach for your phone, unsure if you’re going to call the police or throw it away. 

“Please don’t throw it at me.” He says your name with familiarity and disgust pools in your stomach. “I’m sorry- really, I am. I just- I don’t have your key with me and I thought knocking would’ve freaked you out more and I know I look different but-”

“Who the hell are you?” You hiss, holding the phone tight in your hand. 

“It’s me,” he says, as if that answer is anything useful. “It’s me, Jonathan,” he clarifies. After a moment where he’s positive you won’t throw anything, he pulls his arms down, and stands tall in your living room. All air escapes your lungs, and you hold whatever is left, unable to move as your phone slips from your hand and drops to the floor next to the remote. “Hi,” he says softly.

You wish you could run to him, but you’re rooted in place. With a good look, you aren’t sure what to make of him. His face is gone- hidden beneath white and a singular black spot that covers what should be his features. You can’t trust this to be your Jonathan.

“Prove it,” you mutter. You clear your throat, and stand straight, puffing out your chest. “Prove it,” you repeat with an ounce of force. Your hands curl into fists, and your heart races in your chest. “Take off the mask.”

The person in front of you laughs awkwardly, raising a hand to scratch at his neck. “I- I can’t do that.”

“I’m calling the cops,” you say, hoping that you’d be quick enough to grab your phone, unlock it, and call for the authorities. 

“No, no! I mean, uh- you like it when I kiss your hand. You kiss my palm and I press it against my lips, and when I kiss your hand you always kiss at the spot,” he says in a rush of words. “Sometimes eating strawberries is a struggle for you, so I make sure to cut them up. Um- uh,” he turns his head around as if the answers to his identity are painted on the walls. “You have this mole on you and I always kiss it when we-”

“Oh my gosh.” You interrupt him, and there’s a chill going through your body. “Jonathan?” He nods, taking a step forward. “What- What are you wearing?”

He freezes in his spot, and stands straight. “I’m not wearing anything. I- Something bad happened back at Alchemax. I mutated with a black hole and-” he lifts his arms up in a show of himself- “I’m this. It’s skin.” He pinches at a part of his arm and pulls, and it stays connected to him.

“Skin?” You hiss out, staring at him up and down. “What do you mean?”

“It was Spider-man. He- he did this and now I look like this- but-” he shakes his head and takes a step towards you- “I’m home. I’m sorry. I know you wanted to move in with me but uh-some things happened and-” he pauses when he notices you haven’t stopped staring at him. “I know I look different, but it’s me. You know me.” He says your name softly, and you can hear the smile in his voice even though there’s no mouth. When you don’t speak, he presses further. “Please. Please say something.”

“What do you want me to say?” You ask, and it comes out cold.

“Tell me that you’re happy to see me,” he offers. When you don’t make a sound, he gives another option. “Ask if I’m okay.”

You weren’t entirely sure if you were happy to see him. You think you are. You should be. You wanted to see him just moments ago. You should have specified that you wanted to see your partner as your partner and not some mutated person. 

Taking another glance, your stomach drops at all the spots- all the holes that cover his body. You should be happy. You should be holding him and asking if he’s okay. You should be thanking the stars that he’s in front of you. But you can’t. And you won’t. Not when the sight of him makes you nauseous. 

You can’t look at him. It’s too many spots- too many holes. You think you’re going to be sick. You remember telling him how you hated spots- trypophobia is what he told you it was. You couldn’t eat cookies and cream flavored anything because of the spots, on bad days, strawberries made you sick. He knew that. He knows that. He’s the one who was always so careful to not give you so many punctured items. But he’s here now and you hate it. 

Guilt eats at you. It makes you nauseous, and scared. You wish you could look at him. He croaks out your name, and even without a face, you can tell that he’s crying. Your teeth are clenched, molars pressing into each other, and when you peek, you turn away again. No. You can’t look at him. Not when he’s like this. Not when he’s not Jonathan. 

“Please,” he croaks. You hate how your name sounds on his tongue. It’s pathetic and sniveling, and you can’t help but swallow the bile that burns your throat. “It’s still me. It’s still your Jonathan. I- I know I look different, but I- I’m sorry.”

“Jonathan,” you say, spit laying heavy on your tongue, “looking different is like a scar or bleaching your hair. You-” you gesture to him- “don’t even look-” human. He doesn’t look human, but even as you’re close to being sick, you can’t tell him that. That would be going too far. “You don’t even have eyes.”

With his long legs- too long to ever have been human- he takes quick strides towards you. His stomach touches the edge of the couch, and you see the spots swirl, contracting in size, and erratic as he speaks. 

You’re going to have to wash the couch- somehow.

“I can still see!” You shut your eyes tight when he speaks. “I- I don’t have anyone else.” His voice quivers. Closing your eyes was a mistake- it still sounds like him. It is him, but it isn’t. “I thought you- you wanted to move in with me.” The sentence breaks your heart. His voice makes you want to hold him like you did nights ago.

The air is cold and it makes your skin rise with goosebumps. You wonder for a moment if his skin does the same, but the mental image of it makes you regret even thinking about it- about him. Your lungs fill with air, and you have to brace yourself to look at him.

Looking at him is so much worse than you could have imagined. The spot in the middle of his face is deflated near the top, and he’s sad. Him expressing emotions with a spot makes everything so much worse. The dark of it spirals, the edges of it fading into a small cluster of spots that reminds you of poorly mixed cookies and cream. It takes all of you to look at him. 

“I wanted to move in when you-” when he looked human- “when you had a job. When you - where even if you lost the job, you could- I don’t know, find another one.” You’re shallow. You wish you weren’t. You wish it were another poor soul that got infected with spots.

“Please,” his voice is fragile, tense and heavy, and his hands rise, and they’re loosely wrapped around your own, until you pull back, scrambling to get away. 

“Don’t!” You hold your hands in a clawed pose, shaking until they form into fists. “Don’t,” you whisper out, pulling your arms closer to your body and further away from him.

His body is shaking, shoulders rising and falling, and there are these broken gasps of air coming from him. He’s calling your name, pleading for you to accept his apologies. He feels bad about touching you, and you can’t help but want to wash your skin until it burns. 

“I’m sorry,” he wheezes out. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Please-” your name sounds broken when he speaks it out loud- “I promise I’ll find a way to reverse this. We can figure it out. You- You said that you would take care of me when I was sick.” 

“Sick, Jonathan,” you spit out, unable to stop yourself from glaring at the man across from you. “Like the cold or something serious like a broken bone or fucking radiation poisoning. Fuck!” You look away from him, and catch his reflection in a piece of furniture. It’s warped and unsightly. “It was shit like that Jonathan.” Tears pool in your eyes- burning and overflowing, and your face scorches under all your emotions. “Not this. Not when you don’t look-” you have to say it, it’s lodged in your throat, and it’ll stay stuck there until you get rid of it now- “human.” You’re the absolute worst- you’re sure of it. 

Your name is called once more. You hiccup and keep your gaze away from him. “It’s still me,” he says in a low voice, hurt interlaced into every letter. “We can- I know that this is new and it’ll take some getting used to, but we can make it work.” You stay silent, biting on the inside of your cheeks to keep yourself from crying. “I wouldn’t leave you if the situations were reversed.” You flinch, and you hate that you know he’s speaking the truth. He wouldn’t leave you. Not when you needed him the most. You wish the building would crumble and you’d be crushed by stone and pipes. “I won’t bring this up ever again. We can figure it out, and I’ll never hold this against you. I promise. We can start fresh.” He so desperately clings to the relationship, and you both know that if you were to move forward, you could never forget this conversation. He could never forget how you were so quick to abandon him. “I promise.”

It’s selfish. You do this for yourself. You want to live a life that doesn’t involve hiding a man who is longer human. “I want to go out on dates. I want to watch a movie.” You turn to him, and the tears burn themselves into your skin. “I want my friends to see you.” You shake your head and take a step back, furthering yourself from the man before you. “I can’t do this, Jonathan.”

He shakes his head, and you wish that you cared for him the way that he cared for you. “We can do that. I can do that.” He takes a step forward, and you take another step back. “I- I can wear clothes and hide myself and we can go out.” The spots on his body swirl, expanding and moving across his body. They break apart at the edges, scattering smaller spots across him, and it makes the acid in your stomach fill your mouth. “Don’t do this,” he pleads. “Please.” He’s crying, and you hate that you can’t bring yourself to comfort him. 

“I can’t see you anymore, Jonathan.” You turn yourself away from him. “I mean it. I can’t-” you wave a hand towards his direction- “I need you to leave Jonathan.”

“You can’t be serious.” You don’t answer, and that in itself is an answer. “I- I thought you would still want me.” You flinch at the words. You thought the same too. “Please don’t do this. I promise, you won’t see my holes. You can cover me and I’ll- I’ll hide and-”

“Jonathan,” you say curtly. “I need you to go.” You refuse to look at him. “Please, Jonathan. Just- Just get out.” Even in your worst of fights with him, you had never kicked him out, and now when he needs you the most, you kick him out. You wish that someone would put you out of your misery.

There’s a pause in the room, and you can hear his ragged breathing. “I thought you loved me.” You refuse to answer. “I love you.” You grit your teeth and shut your eyes until organic shapes in different colors swirl behind your eyelids. The confession makes you bite your tongue. 

It’s silent for a long time, and when you open your eyes, you’re alone in your home. The only evidence that gave away that something bad happened was the television remote and your phone that lay on the floor. A sob cracks through your chest, and you smother it with your hand, forcing yourself not to cry. Not now. Not when it was you that demanded the break-up. You wanted him, but not when he was this- when he was that. You wanted your Jonathan.

[invoncible]

Hi I’m a big fan of your fics ! Love how you wrote the characters! Would it be ok if I request Mark (and the mark various if possible please if not no worries ^^) meeting OG female Tamaranean Reader please 🙏

MARK GRAYSON meeting STARFIRE ! fem! reader ✧˚.

— thank u for ur request !! i'm just gonna do mark for now if that's okay. i loooooove starfire she's so iconic ugh throwback to 2003 teen titans !!

"something's approaching our atmosphere. fast." cecil informed mark over his earpiece. "intercept it for me, will you?"

mark rolled his eyes at the director's casual tone for something potentially world-threatening (he hoped it wasn't another viltrumite) and shot up into the sky.

a ball of fire funneled around the alien crashing down. he floated right below your line of impact, shaking his arms and preparing for a big catch.

within seconds, you crashed into him. your forearms were bound in thick metal cuffs, leaving little room to maneuver or fight back. your flight path was thrown off, clumsily tumbling through the clouds.

"stop!" mark yelled over the rush of wind. "shit—hot, hot, hot!" he hissed to himself. who would have thought a meteoric projective burning up on entry would be hot?

you responded in some foreign language; it sounded like gibberish to mark.

"what the fuck did she say?" cecil droned in his ear and mark assumed he turned to his team, barking, "someone get a translation on that!"

you stared at him expectantly, grunting in annoyance when he didn't respond. your legs connected with his stomach, kicking him down to the earth. he fell like a rock in water and you zoomed off into the distance in a flash of green light.

"wait!" mark gasped, throwing off the rubble atop his chest and soaring after you. it was fairly easy to catch up to you, hindered by the cuffs on your hands. he grabbed your ankle the minute he got close enough, pulling you back to him. "we come in peace!"

"...this is our planet, mark." cecil deadpanned in his ear.

you whirled on him, pummeling him with the binds. he groaned, shaking his head of the ache. he spotted you descending to a random beach and followed you.

when you noticed him, you backed up defensively, watching him with a careful eye.

he tilted his head in confusion, holding his hands up in surrender. "woah. i'm not trying to hurt you; i wanna help."

your eyes searched his and he assumed you didn't understand him either. he approached you slowly, taking your arms in his hands. he stretched them towards him and raised his own, slicing through the metal in one swift motion.

the restraints fell into the sand below with a soft chfff. you rubbed your wrists, pleased but not completely relaxed.

mark grinned. "better, right?"

your eyes flickered to his, a frown on your lips as you hurriedly spoke to him in that foreign language.

he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "i'm sorry, i... don't understand."

you rolled your eyes and pulled him in, your thumb on his lips. you waited for him to pull away, tilting your head questioningly. he threw all rational thought in the garbage and leaned in. you kissed him roughly, like you had an agenda.

you pulled back and shoved him back. his ass hit the sand, spluttering as he looked up at you. "what the—"

you towered over him. "if you wish not to be destroyed, you will leave me alone."

mark remained there in the sand, head reeling. "um... so what was the kiss for?"

"kiss?"

"what we just did?" he followed up, rising to his feet and dusting the sand off his thighs and lap.

"my people learn languages through lip to lip contact." you explained hurriedly, already positioning yourself to take off once more.

"okay, hold on a second," he caught you before you managed to escape. "are you serious?"

you ripped your hand away from him, disgust etched on your features. "no, i am y/n."

mark laughed a little to himself. "still a bit rusty with the language, huh? um... how many tries would it take to get it right?"

you stared at him, unimpressed. "what are you meaning?"

all you could see was the cheeky, nervous smile on his lips despite the confident step he put forward. you grew amused by his antics, crossing your arms over your chest as you heard him out.

he scratched the back of his neck, his other arm resting on his hip. "i'm just saying, i'm here to help you adjust to earth. and i also took spanish in high school."

you raised an eyebrow, smiling.

"just saying." mark gave you a lopsided grin.

© invoncible

[reignpage]

Bubble Bubble

Summary: in which alien!reader splashes around with Gojo Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: smut, 18+, not really a standalone, find the other parts in my fics masterlist, not proofread

Day 14

“Yeah, so then I told Yuji, ‘You just gotta go with your gut,’ y’know? He didn’t get it, but eh, he will, eventually.”

You hum. 

The two of you are in the bath. More specifically, sharing a bath. It’s not something he’d ever share he does to anyone, since, well, he doesn’t exactly feel proud of his decisions. 

It’d been two weeks by now, since he first met and took you in, and you’ve gotten along splendidly. Maybe, a little too splendidly if the fact that boundaries have been crossed majorly is anything to go by. And what Satoru means by this, of course, is how, since that fateful night where he had shoved his foot in his mouth and sparked a curiosity for pleasure in you, you two had been sleeping in bed together. 

Something about humping each other like dogs on the sofa seemed to mean all bets were off. 

Honestly, Satoru doesn’t sleep very often. He still has duties to attend to but also, he really likes watching you snooze — the man hates how creepy that sounds, how creepy all of this sounds but the blue lights that hum beneath your skin just demands his attention. So, at night, he traces his fingers lightly over your bare skin, following the lights as they journey back and forth from your heart. They follow blood flow, he figures, though he’s no doctor. 

There’s also something else: you and him have now developed a routine of dry-humping before bed. It’s terrible and Satoru should be ashamed, he knows that. His relationship with you was never supposed to be like his. You were supposed to be friends and he’s gone and taken advantage of you at your most vulnerable. 

He wants to stop. Really. 

But when you hold his arm, pressing them between your soft and warm breasts, and look up at him with those pretty eyes, how is he ever supposed to say no?

“But it’s your job, no? To teach?”

Your Japanese has gotten so much better. All those movies are really paying off — if only he could put a movie on for his students and let them figure it out. It’s great to be able to communicate with you better. Now, you two actually have discussions about what you’ve watched and what you want for dinner. You even tell jokes sometimes. They’re terrible and cheesy but when they come out of your mouth, they’re hilarious. 

One problem though: you hold him accountable.

Defensively, Satoru, answers, “I do. I teach all of them. I’m a great teacher!”

“But if Yuji confused, then you not teach well.”

He groans, head thrown back over the foot of the tub. You’re sat in front of him, between his legs with your head resting on his wet chest. "Why is no one on my side? Not even you."

"Maybe you teach us," you reply, following it with a giggle over your own joke. In spite of himself, he chuckles, admitting defeat. Then, playfully rolling his eyes, he tickles you as revenge. Whirring sounds out from your chest as you laugh uncontrollably.

This is nice, he thinks. He wishes he could stay here, in this tub, with you forever, even if his whole skin becomes wrinkly.

Your relationship is developing quite fast, so is your general capabilities. Soon, he'll have to open the door and let the world know who you are, let the sun graze your skin, the wind kiss your lips, and the ground feel your weight.

Satoru can only hope that day is far, far in the future.

"Whad'ya want for dinner tomorrow? I'm going shopping in the morning on my way back from my mission."

"Hmm, ramen?"

Playing with a lock of your hair, he notes, "We've been having ramen too often, E. Let's try -um- something healthier, m'kay? L-leave it to Toru."

The steam rises up and floats in the air, blurring his vision ever so slightly. Lovely as it is, the heat is getting to his head, short-circuiting his brain, making it difficult to focus, especially when you’re flicking your own nipples. 

“Hey, don’t do that,” he scolds, grabbing hold of your mischievous hands.

Oh and another thing, you two have gotten a little more adventurous than over the clothes humping. Satoru started off with wanting to make your ride, no pun intended, smoother by stimulating your chest — that had been an experiment to see if you have nerve endings there and you most certainly did because you writhed faster and moaned his name deliciously. 

At first, it was over your shirt for the friction, which you love. But then he couldn’t help himself and his wandering hands found themselves under your shirt and groping your breasts. They were warm and heavy and so soft. Since then, he hadn't been able to get his hands off your tits. And apparently, neither could you.

“No,” you say. “I like it.”

Satoru makes a noise of embarrassment, like the consequences of his horniness is catching up to him. “No, E, baby. You don’t do that in front of other people.”

“No other people. Just Toru.”

“Okay, yes, good. But you only play with yourself during special times.”

You shuffle around and with your head tilted, you ask, “What ‘special times’ mean?” 

Oh great, yet another dirty thing to teach you. If the government ever found out he’s harbouring an alien and he didn’t attempt to find out the secrets of the universe but instead chose to molest said alien, he’d be arrested, convicted, and he'll go down in the history books as the most perverted human in the world — no, the universe. 

“Forget it, E. Let’s just get washed up, okay? I’ll do your hair.”

Water splashes around when your fist smacks against the surface, more bubbles forming. “No, Toru is teacher. You teach. Not fair you teach Yuji but not me. I want to learn too. Tell me special times, Toru!”

How does he even begin to explain the distinction between teaching the kids versus teaching you? Because he really wants to make clear that he does not teach the kids anything remotely resembling this. Let that be known far and wide. 

Raking a wet hand through his wet hair, he sighs. 

“Alright, E. This is another thing we don’t talk to other people about, okay?”

You beam, a wave of blue lights running through your body just once, making a krrrrrrrrr sound that he finds just so endearing. “Secret?”

“Yes, secret.”

Soft lips meet his. 'Secret' is code for the intimate moments you share where you’re not alien and human caretaker, but rather just E and T. As soon as that word is uttered, you'd reach up and kiss him, tracing the seam of his lips with your tongue before plunging in, melting against his body. 

Satoru holds your head close, spare hand clasping your wet neck and then falling down to one tit, groping it the way you like. When you arch your back, he takes that as a sign to flick your nipple. It never fails to make you gasp into his mouth. 

Groaning, he deepens the kiss impossibly further, chasing the sweet taste of your lips like it might be his last meal. Though you two have never humped against each other completely bare, being naked like this hasn’t been new for almost a week now. Still, when his cock hardens even more, you giggle. “Toru boner? Want me to make it go away?”

“No, not yet, E,” he mutters. “First, I gotta teach you about ‘special times,’ remember?”

Manoeuvring you back into facing the front, he holds your knees and widens them until they’re resting against his thighs perfectly. He’s never taken a proper look at your pussy before and even from this angle he can’t really see much. He knows you have a slit, bare and smooth, and everything on the outside looks fine. But he’s never felt more. Since you like grinding so much, he figures you must have a clit, right? So surely this wouldn’t be too hard to do. 

“So, E, special times refers to masturbation. It refers to when you make yourself feel good alone. Do you wanna know how women masturbate?”

Breathless, you nod. 

He skims one hand down your stomach, tickling you for a second, before he spreads your lips and feels with his middle finger what you have there. Oh. “Feels pretty normal to me. Are you sure you’re an alien, E?”

“Yes. I come from stars. Far away. You can’t fly to. No air up there. You die.”

Right, okay, well he wasn’t planning on doing that, so he focuses back onto your pussy. He finds your clit easily; it’s exactly where women’s tends to be so he wastes no time in rubbing around the area, laying feather-light touches to your clit here and there. 

Blue light is shining under your skin again. He must be doing a good enough job. 

“You rub this. It’s called a clit. Can you say that for me?”

“C-clit. I rub clit for special times.”

He hums. "Good. Now if you ever want some time alone, just tell me you want to play with your pussy, 'kay?"

"I play with pussy?"

Satoru kisses your head, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. You’re growing wetter under the water, your pussy warm — hotter than he remembers the average pussy to be — and he’s growing breathless too. You feel so good. “Play with your titties, baby. Just like earlier. Go on.”

Your hands fly up, groping hard. He watches the fat pool between your fingers and his mouth suddenly feels empty; he hasn’t tasted your tits yet. What a shame. 

Venturing lower, he feels the divot in your pussy and he knows you also have a hole. He tests it with one finger at first, poking and waiting for any sign of pain. There is none. Instead, you jut your hips out, encouraging him. So, he pushes that finger in. 

“Oh, fuck, E. W-what are these?” There’s pleats inside your pussy. They’re moving. Withdrawing in a haste, he examines his finger. It’s still there so he knows your pussy juices aren’t corrosive or something, though he does feel some tingling. Oddly, there's a light sheen of blue in the translucent liquid. “Baby, do you know anything about this? Do you know if we can do this? Like, I don't know, did you learn anything from your home?”

Still playing with your nipples, you throw your head back and whine. “It’s okay, Toru. Safe. Just make me feel good, p-please.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you. And I don’t exactly want to get hurt too but I can turn my infinity on.”

“Shield?”

“Yeah, shield.”

Grabbing his wrist, you lead it back to your pussy and press it hard against the entire area, humping his palm unashamedly. “No. Safe, Toru. Listen to E! My people say we are—“

And then you proceed to make alien noises that confuses him even more but he trusts you. You may not know much about Earth but you aren’t stupid — you just find it difficult to communicate. 

Hesitantly, he pushes two fingers in, testing your stretch. It’s a tight fit for sure but somehow your moving walls are massaging his fingers, welcoming him in and urging him deeper. The sensations are new and odd but somewhat addictive. He wonders if you have a G-spot. 

Curling his fingers, he presses against where it usually is and you whimper, body tensing. Okay, so G-spot check. Good.

“‘We are’ what, E? I didn’t understand.”

Your chest makes a thrill sound. 

“How say, okay together? Match?”

“Compatible?”

You shrug like that’s a good enough synonym. Resuming playing with your breasts, you let Satoru explore your insides, thrusting his fingers in slowly as his thumb rubs your pussy. 

Definitely hotter inside than usual, Satoru also notices something else. Actually a couple things, all driving him absolutely wild: one, every spot inside you is a G-spot, he knows that because your eyes fly open and both your skin and your eyes glows brighter in pulses every time he presses in at any spot.

Two, your canal is longer than average because not even his ‘freakishly long’ fingers (as Shoko called them once) can reach your cervix when usually that had always been the case with the women he’d been with before. 

Maybe you don’t have a cervix. You haven’t had a period at all and though he knows a month hasn’t passed, you also haven’t brought it up even when he tried to teach you about menstruation. Maybe you don’t have a womb either. His dick throbs. Yeahhhh, he’s a terrible human being. There’s no way he’s getting turned on by the prospect of having as much unprotected sex as he wants with your beautiful body, pussy leaking his cum and making your thighs sticky. 

“Can you have babies, E? Y’know, little humans.”

Beginning to thrash around, you’re more than distracted. He has to nibble on your ear to get your attention, and then, you, with very little patience, respond, “N-no. Babies made different way. Ah, T-toru! I feel good again. More, please!”

“Alright, alright. Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to withhold an orgasm. Tilt your head this way, E. Wanna kiss you. You know how much I love it when we kiss whilst you cum.”

Ever so obedient, you hurriedly turn your head around, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him desperately. Every kiss, every touch of your tongues together is interrupted with high-pitched moans, splashing water, and vibrations from your chest, that telltale humming growing louder and louder as the pleats in your pussy wrap around his fingers in a tighter and tighter hug. 

They hold onto him like they’d be very upset if he removed them for too long as he thrusts and presses all your sensitive spots over and over again, the water sloshing around and spilling over the tub, creating a mess he'll have to deal with.

“T-toru! Fingers soooooo long. I feel full!”

“I know, E, baby. You like feeling full, don’t you. Your pussy doesn’t want me to leave, does she?”

Satoru fails to mention one other thing he’s noticed and he really can’t spend too much time thinking about it because it’s threatening to make him bust his load prematurely: your pussy emits light. 

Seriously, it’s like something from some shitty hentai. But there’s no doubt about it; blue light is shining onto his pale fingers, making the water and the bubbles an even darker blue. Everywhere he looks, there’s you. You are blue. When he stares up at the sky, he feels his chest ache. And when he sees stop signs and cars resembling any shade of blue, his cock is growing in his trousers. 

Fuck, even when he catches sight of his eyes in the mirror, unobscured by his blindfold, all he sees is you. 

“You’re so hot inside. Do you hate me for wanting to fuck you right now, E? Hmm? Would you hate me if I just lifted you up and dropped you down on my cock? No, probably not, right? ‘Cause you want me too, right, E? You want Toru?”

“Y-yes, Toru. Want -ngh!- you. Always”

He coos, “Aww, you’re such a sweetie-pie, aren’t you? My good girl. Go on, then baby, show me h-how much you want me. R-ride my fingers.”

Smelling like roses and bath salts, the steam fills his nose and Satoru thinks he might just pass out from the overstimulation — your soft breasts pressed against his bare skin, your lips wrapped around his, your hot pussy pulsing, and flashes of light casting blue shadows around the room. “You gonna cum, E? You feeling good? Is this better than humping my cock, baby? We — ha yes just like that, ride my fingers, baby— we can do b-both now. Just gotta tell Toru when you want to —ngh- feel good, yeah?”

“Yes, Toru. I tell you. Oh, I’m close! That good feeling coming. Don’t stop!”

Even from his angle, your body is rubbing against his cock which he had been steadily grinding against you the entire time. 

Together, you cum. 

“Ah, fuck, E. Ah, shit, oh yeah, baby. So good.”

Your nails are digging into his wrist as you ride out your orgasm, the glow under your skin thrumming devastatingly. He can't help himself; Satoru tilts your head back, lips skimming against each other but not quite pressed together, just gulping down your moans. He loves seeing your eyes too.

In these moments, he sees himself reflected in your eyes the way he sees you reflected in every breath, step, and move he makes. It's like a brand, a punishment for making him so weak. Those glowing blue eyes are his only reprieve for his crimes, the consolation for his depravity, and the very thing that convinces him he's doing right by you.

"T-thank you, Toru," you sigh out, body relaxing and lights shutting off.

He almost misses the pretty lights. "Mmm, you're welcome. Not like I didn't get anything out of it. But I have to say, your pussy took me by surprise. I didn't expect for there to be moving things. And the light! Damn, do you just glow everywhere?"

You hiss, nails digging into his thighs.

"Youch! Hey, what was that for?"

Pushing away from him, you shuffle over to the other end of the tub, holding your knees together as you dip lower into the water, your eyes the only things visible.

Poor baby's sulking and he doesn't even know why.

"Hey, E. Talk to me. What's wrong? I didn't hurt you, did I? I didn't scratch something?"

Flicking water at him, you growl, "No."

"Okay, so what's wrong? Uh, hey, don't look at me like that. If you don't talk to me, I'll take away movie privileges."

"No movie?"

"No. Movie."

SPLASH!

Dumbfounded, Satoru sits there, soaking wet, water dripping from his hair with his mouth open. In front of him is a woman who's playing with some bubbles, the picture of innocence. "Alright. Fine. That's how you wanna play? Stay here by yourself then."

He's out of the bath and towelling off by the time you get to him, arms wrapping around his waist as you smush your face against his chest. Forcing his limbs to not embrace you, he waits patiently for your next move.

Though he would never want to upset you or make you feel like he's mad at you, he has enough tact to know permitting your bad behaviour even once would only spell trouble for him in the future.

"Come." You urge him to bring his face closer and so he does. Then, with gentle hands, you wipe the suds from his cheeks and grab a small towel to dry his hair. He lets you ruffle it around with the 'swooosh swoosh swoooosh' sounds he makes when he does yours.

Once dry, he peeks out from under the towel and his gaze softens. "Talk to me, baby. Tell me what I did wrong."

You sigh. "You make fun of me. My body. You think I'm...weird. Am I not pretty like women in movies? Like Rapunzel?"

His heart breaks. Literally. He feels it give up on him and shatter into tiny little fragments, like mere reflections of stars on a dirty puddle on the road.

"Oh, no, E, baby. Hey, listen," he urges. Grabbing your face, he presses a kiss on your nose and smiles a little when you crinkle it. "I think you're pretty. Very pretty. Prettier than Rapunzel. Prettier than everyone else. I'm sorry I made you think that I think your body's weird. No, of course not. Sure, it's different but so am I to you, I'm sure. I was just taken by surprise because of how new it all is. I think it's very cool. I think you're cool, okay? Tell me you understand, sweet thing."

"I pretty?"

"Gorgeous. Stunning. Ethereal."

Flattening your bare body against him, he feels every curve and has to will his dick to stay asleep. Then, with a much lighter tone, you ask, "You like me, Toru? More than movie girls?"

He whispers against your head, "Yeah. I like you more than them. I like you more than anyone else in the world. In fact, I like you too much to let anyone take you away."

"Someone take me away?"

Then, with a fierce resolution burning in his eyes, he swears with all the cursed technique swirling in his veins, "No. Never."

[softaestluv]

Guard Dogs

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Neighbor!Reader

Pt. 1, Pt. 2 of 5, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5

Tags: Angst, Fluff, & Eventual smut

Summary: You were a proper good girl. Just like in his fantasies when he was a little boy. Ghost only looked to protect you from the evils of the world just like Riley. Your two personal guard dogs.

But maybe this is where he belonged, on the other side of the glass, staring at you from afar. Even if Riley wanted more.

The weekends, for Simon, tended to go the same: mundane and boring.

In other words, alone.

Simon didn’t cross your path on the weekends. He still walked Riley in the early mornings, but the weekend seemed to be your rest days. Slept in a little longer than usual, didn’t go on your runs. Opted for slow mornings in bed with a cup of tea before getting up for the day. Something Simon wished he had: lazy Sundays. He couldn’t sleep in even if he tried. Riley woke him up at the same time every day, demanded his morning walk.

The weekends, for both of you, were reserved for chores. Simon did his yard work in the beating sun and worked on his bike. You cleaned your house and baked an abundance of goods. Baked goods he could always smell when he was in his garage working. Wafted through your opened windows, let the breeze blow through your curtains. Always smelt so fucking good, had his mouth watering, even more so because he knew it was from you.

He always wondered who you baked for; why you were always cooking, but didn’t ever have any guests over to share with. Maybe you ate all your sweet treats yourself. Indulged in sugary items too often on the weekends and that’s why you ran during the week. Would explain the reason your thighs were still so thick.

Though if Simon had it his way, you wouldn’t feel the need to run, he’d cherish every plump curve, dig his teeth into your fat. Feed you the pies himself, lick the cream from your mouth, kiss the taste away. Knew it would taste better from your lips anyways.

Your opened windows were a luxury of their own. Not only did Simon get to smell your cooking, but he also got to see you clearly. The glare of glass a nonexistent barrier, cream curtains served to accentuate your beauty as they billowed in the wind instead of hiding you behind a thin layer of fabric. Loved the pretty view you gave him. But did you have to keep them open so late, love? It’s dangerous, you knew better than that.

It’s okay, you didn’t have to worry. Him and Riley would look out for you. Keep you safe, always would.

Though this weekend you seemed to have other plans. Showed up on his doorstep, a pleasant surprise for him and Riley. Had Riley barking excitedly at the sight of you.

“Hi, Simon. Hi, Riley!”

“Oh, hi lass.”

“Um, I was just wondering if you were busy?” Bashfully tangled your fingers together behind your back.

“No, why?” — Never for you.

“Could I borrow your strength for a minute, then?” You asked, turning to gesture to your driveway, “Got a new dresser in the mail, but I’m not exactly strong enough to lift it into my house.”

“Of course.”

You ha ve him a pretty smile when he stepped out to follow you, “Don’t know why they left it on my driveway, but that’s okay. I’m lucky to have you as a neighbor.”

“Happy to help with anythin’ you need.” Simon hummed, hoisting the box over his shoulder, “Just say the word.”

“Be careful, Simon!” You yelped, “It’s heavy!”

“Ts no problem,” He said, shrugging the box into a tighter grip.

And truthfully, it wasn’t. He wasn’t trying to impress you. Wasn’t trying to prove his worth to you. He’s just lifted heavier things before is all.

He followed you into your home as you guided him to your bedroom and instructed him where to place it. Asked him to excuse the mess, but there wasn’t one; he had seen you cleaning it this morning. Though if there was a mess it’s not like he would actually care, not when you were the center of his attention. Everything else faded away behind your plump cheeks and doe eyes.

“You gonna put it together on your own?” He asked when you began to thank him.

You pinched your lip between your teeth, pushing on to your tippy toes, “Maybe?”

“I’ll go get my toolbox.”

So, he spent the day building the dresser for you. Had assumed you would leave him be, but you sat on your bed while he worked on the floor. Asked if he wanted some help? Course not, told you to sit and relax.

Help? From you? No, don’t worry; he’d do everything for you, pretty bird.

So you did, made him tea and watched him work. Left the room every once in a while to attend to the food you were cooking in the kitchen. Filled the space with questions about his work, but he kept the answers short and sweet. He talked about his team rather than the work they were doing. Couldn’t exactly tell you everything about his occupation, what kind of man would you think he was? Would you even let him inside your home to help?

He chose to ask about your work instead, it was much easier to talk about teaching primary school students than his field of work. Though, this didn’t seem to be a problem for you, willingly told him about your classroom. Chuckled along as you told him stories about your young students, wasn’t surprised by the antics they were up to.

It made sense that a sweet girl like you worked with children, couldn’t be more different than himself. Had his own stories to share about Soap and Gaz. Made you giggle along, said you wanted to meet them, they seemed fun!

Maybe one day, he told you— but for now he’d keep his bird to himself.

Simon might’ve took longer than needed to finish the dresser, but he wanted to spend as much time with you as he could. Didn’t know the next time he’d find himself inside your home. Why would he rush it? So, he helped you move items onto the dresser, books and vases handed to him, any reason to stay longer, to help.

Though, you surprised him just as you did earlier that day. Asked him if he would stay for dinner as a thank you. And who was he to say no?

Could’ve cried when you placed a warm piece of chicken pot pie on the table. Perfect golden baked crust, made it from scratch— you had told him, but you didn’t need to, he knew.

He had a deep love for food, craved sustenance after grueling work on base. Kicked his ass every single second, tired body cherished the delicacy. He wasn’t even being dramatic when he groaned in appreciation at the first bite. Cleared the plate in seconds, didn’t even feel ashamed when he looked at your still full plate.

Not when you exhaled a quiet laugh, soft blush decorating your cheeks, “Was it good?”

“Bloody delicious,” He rasped, licking his lips clean, clinging on to any remnants of the taste.

You don’t give him much time to dwell on it, to crave more. Scooped a new piece into his plate for him without a second thought.

“Yeah?” You huff shyly, “Eat as much as you want.”

He eats more than his share, doesn’t even really register that he’s in your home having dinner with you. That his balaclava was pushed up to his nose, ugly scars on display. God, where were his manners?

But when he looks at you across the table your eyes just glimmer, smiling sweetly at him as you encourage him to get more before continuing your story.

You send him away with a container of leftovers and a baggie of pastries. He tried to protest because he already overstayed his welcome and ate half your pie. But you insisted, shushed him as you promised it was no big deal, what would you have done without him there to help? Tomorrow’s Monday anyways, eat it for lunch while at work!

When he crosses the street and returns to his home, it feels awfully quiet. Once again behind the glass barrier.

Lonely. Cold.

Even Riley at his feet, tucked into his side when he crawls into bed doesn’t quite warm him the way you had.

Tag list: @crypticenbug @c1garette-nightmares

[t-a-a-1]

Counting Stars

TFP Optimus x Female Reader

Summary: After a dangerous mission where you almost die, Optimus breaks up with you without knowing you are carrying his sparkling. It's not until seven months later that the universe allows you both to meet once again.

A/N: Lots of yearning, jealousy, delusions, craving, fluff. All that good stuff.

5K

Counting Stars

...

He almost lost you. 

And yet he had to act like he didn't care.

It was to everyone's surprise when he announced that you will no longer be living at the base. It was simple. Due to inner conflicts, you won't be a part of Team Prime any longer. 

No one believed it until you came to pick up your things and said your last goodbyes. 

Optimus was nowhere to be found. 

And no one dared to ask him why.

Only Optimus knows the reason. 

He was well aware of his limits. Knowing that the moment he sees you, he would break down. Throw away his pride and ask you to stay forever with him. That he was a complete idiot to believe he could live a single day without you.

What an idiot he indeed is. 

It's been a week and he can't do it. Primus, give him strength. He sees you everywhere. He smells you in the flowers, feels your touch in the wind, hears your voice in nature and sees you in the stars. How much he misses to taste your lips once more.

"One more day and I think you will go offline, old friend."

Out of embarrassment, Optimus tries to close the windows in the data-pad screen, he was too focused on looking at pictures of you to notice Ratchet walking close to him. 

“What, um-”  He keeps closing tabs, each one having a different picture of you. From different angles and expressions. Blurry and not. “What are you referring to, old friend?”

Ratchet doesn't know how to react to this. He has always been aware of Optimus' massive love for you. Of course he knew. Even more now that the bearer of the Matrix can’t seem to function properly without your presence. 

Optimus keeps closing taps and Ratchet gets a glimpse of Orion Pax. Trying his best to hide the fact that he messed up. 

From innocent pictures, more intimate ones appeared.

“Would you please close your optics?” There is some panic and concern in his voice. But also an authoritative tone to it.  “I do not wish for you to see her the way I used to.”

Ratchet just turns around, giving Optimus enough privacy to conclude his activity. 

“I had just wanted to check up on your well-being due to recent events. But I am afraid that you are in a worse state than I thought possible.”

He hears more clicking and typing before hearing a heavy ex-vent coming from the Autobot leader.

“You can turn around now.”

“Optimus, you can’t continue like this,” the robot medic takes a look at the screen again. It’s empty but the blue blush on Optimus’ face is still evident.  “It’s only been a week. But have you truthly imagined what your life will be after living an eternity without (y/n)?”

Of course he doesn’t think about it. He might be an idiot but not entirely stupid. If he spirals and thinks too much about it he’ll probably lose all sense of responsibility and sanity. He can’t think about no longer being able to see the stars in your eyes. Of not longer hearing the sweetness of your voice or caressing the softness of your skin–

“There’s nothing I can do about it,” Optimus quickly stops thinking.  “My fate is sealed and so is hers. Our paths shall never meet again.”

Knowing Optimus for such a long time, Ratchet knows when he is lying. Even he should be aware of how full of scrap that lie is. Still, he wishes to push it further and see for how long Optimus will keep it up.

“If you truthly think that way then delete all of those frames and we shall never speak of her again.”

Their optics met for a few seconds and the gentle look in Optimus’ optics let Ratchet know everything he needed. However, he wanted his friend to be the one to realize it. Some things have to be lived and pain is the best teacher. 

“I … I-”

Looking back at the screen, there are no pictures of you. The thought of never seeing you again crosses his mind. He doesn’t have much to remember you by. You had taken all of your things. No longer can he phantom words to deny the truth. 

“Why are you putting yourself through all of this pain, old friend? When you and I are aware that you cannot pass a second without thinking of her?”

It was late night at the hangar and all other Autobots had gone to recharge. It was only the two of them and no one dared to ask Optimus about past occurrences that included you. 

“I told her … I wish I had never met her.”

Ratchet slowly opens his intake the moment the words slips Optimus’ glossa. 

“Even if my spark wishes nothing more but to see her again … I am afraid I have severed the relationship beyond repay.”

There is a pause in which Ratchet wanted to comfort his friend, to say some words of encouragement but he doesn’t know if it will be good enough.

“If only you had seen her face, Ratchet  … You would know. I have no right to ask for forgiveness.” 

You are the strongest person he knows. He has yet to see you shed a tear, no amount of injuries have made you do so. But that night, between discussions and arguments, he saw your eyes become crystal. The only thing he could do was to look away. He knew he would break as well if he ever became the reason for your suffering. 

.

.

.

Seven months passed. 

Not a single word from you. 

Sometimes, however, Optimus would hear Fowler speak about you. A simple ‘She’s doing fine’ and ‘She has made new friends.’

But that was enough to make him wonder about you. Your new life, friends, if you had found anyone who was of your interest.

“We need the Autobot assistance in transporting a highly classified product across the state.”

He finds himself enjoying putting his life in danger. To take on difficult missions so his mind can be occupied. For those moments he is free from the thoughts of you. Any other second he is busy indulging in his torment from your parting. 

Apparently, MECH was extremely interested in this product and had plans to steal it from the CIA. It was the Autobots’ job to prevent that from happening. 

The bots surrounded a black bulletproof truck. They weren’t allowed to look at what was inside which did not please them. If they were to protect something, they wanted to know what it was. However, Optimus gave it a one time pass. After all, Fowler has proved himself to be a trusted ally. 

The first couple of miles went by easily. With no interruptions. 

It wasn’t until it started to go dark that trouble appeared. 

MECH had interjected the mission. Using every single gun, missile and bombs at their dispossession. Whatever that black truck was carrying, they wanted it no matter what. 

“At this rate we are going to lose the target!”

Arcee screamed through her comm-link as she tried her best to take down as many helicopters as possible without hurting any human in the process. Pretty much against her will but orders were orders. 

“These guys are really fighting it out!” Bulkhead was against a few tanks, he had stayed behind to keep them busy while the truck made an attempt to go out of sight. “Are we even sure this thing we are protecting is worth our lives?!”

Optimus was the one closest to the truck, keeping direct contact in case of a disaster. 

“Optimus! We won’t be able to keep them away for long!”

Bumblebee chirped in morse code and the Autobot leader knew he had to do something. 

He drives faster, facing the two officers that were driving the truck. Side to side, they look at the driverless vehicle. 

“Open the trunk and I’ll take the cargo. We won’t be able to hold them for long. I’ll take the cargo somewhere safe while you serve as a distraction. If we don’t do this, you’ll lose it all.”

The military officers look at each other for a small second. Giving a knowing look, they knew what they had to do. They open up the trunk and Optimus slows his driving, taking a look, finally, at what’s inside. 

The cargo is you. 

He quickly transforms back to his robot mode. Running towards you. He extended a sevo, he wanted you to jump. 

You were holding onto the walls of the truck as if your life depended on it. And it did. This was definitely not the encounter you were expecting after not seeing him for seven months. But now it wasn’t the moment to think about that. What happened between the two of you was over. But you still trusted Optimus Prime, the leader he has always been. 

“Quickly!”

You run towards him and jump as the trunk is in fast motion. Your feet land on his servo and in less than a second, he transforms back to his vehicle mode. Now you sat safely in the passenger seat. Optimus moves out of the road and drives off into the forest. Getting lost into the massiveness of nature and tall pine trees. 

No longer being able to hear chaos, Optimus assumed it was safe to talk. 

“Would you care to explain your status and the reasoning to why you are being transported by the American military?”

You weren’t fond of his voice, much less how this conversation started.

“Not even a ‘how are you’ first? You really haven’t changed at all, Prime.”

You say as you cross your arms in front of your chest. Looking outside the window, you wished you were being chased again by MECH. 

“Do not dare to call me by titles.”

There were times you called him by his last name. When you were angry and when the two of you were yet to form a relationship. He doesn’t like to reminisce about those times. 

“Just let me out. I’ll walk.”

“But–”

“I said … I’ll walk.”

Optimus stops and opens the door for you. You hop out of his vehicle mode and start walking without anywhere in mind. 

You put your hands in your oversize hoodie. The last thing you wanted was for him to take a deep look at you. Much less if he starts analyzing your body with stats. 

“I don’t think you know where you are supposed to be located,” he says as he transforms back to his regular robot mode. 

“I’ll figure it out.”

Optimus begins to panic as you start to walk away. This wasn’t how the reunion was supposed to be. He had dreamt of the next time he saw you. Maybe on a field of flowers and running towards each other. Ending it with an embrace and a passionate kiss. 

“Would you listen to reason for once?”

He tries again to engage but he only makes himself sound rude without having those intentions. 

“No.”

Would please look at him? It’s been seven months since he last saw you. He’s only seen your eyes through the pictures of his data-pad but they didn’t compare to seeing them in person–

“Why are you following me? I thought you didn’t care.”

You finally turn to look at him. 

He can’t control his processor at your sight. Your hair was a nice mess, you were wearing clothes too big for you, maybe to hide the few pounds you gained during this time. Your cheeks were pinker and plumber. Dark circles under your eyes but skin glowing and those beautiful eyes that could put any star in the universe to shame.

Optimus stumbles on his pedes and almost falls on his knees, your beauty too distracting for any living being to be witness of. 

“I .. I –”

He can’t believe you are talking to him. This was too soon and no words could leave his voice box as if had forgotten how to speak entirely. 

He wanted to say it all. How much he missed you, how desperately he needed you. How there hasn’t been a single day he didn’t think about you. How everything reminded him of you. And how painful has it been every second you are not with him.

But before he could rant about his undying love for you, he sees a painful expression on your face. Followed by you, placing your arms around your belly and bending as if the cause of your physical pain was located in your stomach.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“Just,” you take a moment to breathe as you slowly make your way towards a tree. “Just leave me alone.”

With sad and curious optics, he sees you put a hand on your stomach. Whispering comforting words. ‘It’s alright’ and ‘It’s ok’ you kept talking to yourself to make you believe those words. 

“We’ll be safe.”

“I am going to run a quick analysis–”

“No,” you interrupt him again. “You know I hate it when you do that.”

Optimus dislikes going against your wishes. But the way you are breathing heavily, your sweating and trembling doesn’t look like a good sign. He can manage to live without you if it guarantees that you can live a long happy life. But not the same can be said if your life is cut short for whatever reason. 

“My apologies but my mission is to keep you safe and that’s exactly what I tend to do.”

“I am pregnant,” you had no other choice. “Thankfully, you are not the father.”

That was a lie but at least the shock will prevent and confuse him enough. If Optimus were to do an analysis on your body, he would find anomalies only a Cybertronian would know. 

Finally getting the strength you need, you stand up and walk past Optimus whose face you did not dare to look. Your swollen belly still hurts but you didn’t want to worry him. The reason why you are not with him in the first place is because he thought of you as a liability. You no longer want to be seen as such. 

“Who’s the father of the child?”

The question infuriated you. Of all the things he could have asked, he asks such a selfish question. He shouldn’t care and certainly you are tired of Optimus pretending he does. 

“You know, on Earth, is customary to say ‘congratulations,” you turn to look at him. 

A fatal mistake. 

His optics reflected a grief unknown to you. The type you do not know nor wish to ever experience. Then there is a pain you recognize, that of a broken heart. You knew that feeling very well. He had been the one responsible for it after all. A part of you is happy to know that he is experiencing karma, that he is hopefully experiencing a fraction of the pain he made you go through.

But that wasn’t you. You didn’t want to inflect any type of suffering in him. Not now. Not ever.

“I am sorry.”

There wasn’t anything else you could say. You look down, disappointed at your own feelings.

“No. My apologies,” Optimus noticed your sudden change and he too feels unworthy to be of your presence. Having his ill feelings and jealousy overtake his processor instead of worrying about your well being. “I did not think it was possible for you to find a suitable partner with whom … to mate with … and so soon.”

“Well, humans do not live for long and we only have a few years until we are no longer able to ‘mate’”

You didn’t like using the word ‘mate’ . It made humans sound like animals but you used it so Optimus could be spoken to in terms he could understand. 

“But do you have … feelings for this individual?”

“Yes,” you lied again, trying to see what you can get away with.  “He is just and kind. Tall and handsome.” 

Optimus puts a servo on his hip and looks to the other side. Not looking at anything in particular rather he didn’t want to show his evident discomfort. 

“Yet it seems he is unable to do the most important duty … to protect you.”

“He is quite adequate, actually,” you tease him again. The Autobot leader might be a smart war tactician but is terrible at understanding hints.  “He is the strongest and fierce when needed.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that I have as well found someone else to keep my time occupied,” he stutters, unable to lie. “She’s strong, a good talker and a listener. Kind and has the most beautiful eyes in the entire universe.”

Now he was being too specific for your liking. What if he was telling the truth and he had indeed found someone else? You didn't know how not. After all, Optimus Prime was the most extraordinary being on Earth and probably in the entire universe. 

All of your doubts and insecurities began to fill your heart. You were just a human, easily replaceable. But Optimus? There’s only one of him. You were insignificant compared to him. It has always been this way. 

“Then I hope she is better than I ever was.”

You turn to keep walking into the woods with no destination whatsoever but you didn’t care. 

 “It seems we made the right choice to part ways.”

Optimus wouldn’t have it. He can’t phantom it and it’s probably selfish thinking. But he can’t understand how easily you can say that while there hasn’t been a single day he is not tormented by your absence. When every second of his life has been torture without you. 

“Is that really how you feel?” His voice is indignant. Every circuit in his processor, begged him to hold you. To tell you how much he craves you and how unfair has life been. Taking you away only when you have become the most beautiful of beings.  “After everything?”

“You have someone and I have someone,” you don’t turn around, putting a hand again on your stomach. Giving it a small rub and looking down at it.  “And I am with a child as you can see and very happy.”

“A child that should have been born from our bond. I should have been the father of that sparkling, I-”  

“You wished we had never met,” you whisper quietly but you know he can hear you. He always listened. “So please, stop talking like you care.”

“(Y/N)?” 

He looks at you and notices your distraught. Your breathing has become slower.

“Are you alright?”

You fall but before your body could touch the ground, Optimus catches you on his servo. He studies you for a second. You have pink cheeks and breathing seems difficult. He doesn’t hesitate to use his comm-link.

“Ratchet, I request an immediate groundbridge.” 

.

.

.

“Vitals are stable but I’ll stay alert tonight to watch over her.”

Ratchet was glad to have you back at the base although he wished it was in different circumstances. After a couple of hours, everyone went back to their private quarters. The only ones left were the medic and the leader of the autobots. 

They watched over you as you slept soundly in the medical berth. Your vital signs displayed on the data-screen. Although everything seems fine, the two of them were known to overthink and worry.

“I waited for everyone to leave to tell you something of an extremely important matter.”

“What is it, old friend?”

“While doing some analyses in (Y/N)’s body, I distinguished an anomaly,” Ratchet clicks on keys and rapidly two sound frames appear. There are many lines, short and big, all close together. Together they create a different pattern from each other. 

 “(Y/N) appears to have two different heart beats. But, of course, that goes against human biology. So I did further testing.”

“I made a discovery. The second beat has a different frequency of that of a human heart,” the medic played the sound, Optimus recognized this as your heartbeat.  “But this other one has the same frequency and energy as a spark.”

“I do not understand.”

Trying to be tactful was hard for Ratchet as it is. He didn’t want to downplay the situation either. It was a serious matter but he has to admit that not even himself can’t contain his exhilaration. 

“Cybertron hasn’t had a single sparkling in centuries so coming to this conclusion took some time” 

The medic ex-vents, somehow it helped with his tension. He has been alive for quite some time and yet he can’t remember the last time he helped bring a new life to Cybertron. It was all the culmination of his studies and practices. Maybe finally he will have a chance to create life instead of just curing it. 

“After all, I had to look through some old archives and Human-Cybertronian hybrids is a first. But seeing that humans have the ability to create life and combining that with Cybertronian transmission genes … I believe I have a definite conclusion.” 

Ratchet presses a key, making the data-screen play a distinct sound. A sound similar to static but a distinct rhythm could be heard. Gentle and soft. Pure. 

“(Y/N) is carrying a sparkling.” 

“By the AllSpark,” Optimus blinks multiple times as he always does when he is excited or perplexed about something. He looks at you. Your small fragile body. “How?”

“How are humans able to create life with a soul, conscious mind and a body?” Ratchet doesn’t know how to explain it, because even he can't fully understand how. “Primus may have heard our prayers and has blessed us with an opportunity to welcome a new life to our race.”

“Agent Fowler must have known this and MECH as well. That’s why they were so precautious when transporting her from one place to the other.”

Optimus made a mental note to ask Fowler about this and his reasoning as to why he wasn’t informed of such an important matter.

“If MECH lay hands on (Y/N) they would experiment on her and the sparkling as soon as it’s  born,” Ratchet says as he walks towards you with a tender expression in his faceplace. “Half Human, half Cybertronian. This child will change everything.”

“Conceived from a son of Primus and a daughter of Unicron.”

The situation was out of legends and myths. The kind of thing that sounds impossible but maybe this little hope inside of you is what is needed to light up their darkest hour. 

“And this may also explain your sudden urge to nest,” the medic’s voice is more light-hearted now. Having flashbacks of Optimus picking up random flowers, pretty rocks and good-looking metal to bring back to the base. When questioned about it, the leader of the Autobots simply responded that he had an urge to do so. 

 “I thought you were going crazy when you started to bring earthly materials to the base.”

“I thought so too.”

Optimus sees you sleep. He has the need to touch your swollen belly, to feel the growing spark within you. You have always been amazing, he knew that much. But he never thought you were capable of conceiving life like their own. What a beautiful sight. One he never thought possible. Now, it’s right in front of him. Hope. The complete personification of it, staring right at him. 

“Will she be alright?”

“She’s stable but she definitely needs to be watched over. Her weakened state is due to the fact that the sparkling is taking too much of her energy,” Ratchet also has his optics on you. The happiest Optimus has ever seen. Knowing that there is hope for their race to continue to grow must be the first real sign of hope Ratchet has had since eons ago.

 “Energon is mostly toxic to humans but the sparkling has created anti-mechs for (y/n)’s immune system to withstand it.  We are going to have to start supplying her with energon if we wish for the sparkling to be born healthy.”

“And most importantly,” he takes a moment to look at his old friend. His optics now showed a more hostile gaze. “A sparkling needs the electromagnetic waves of a caregiver to copy growing behaviors.”

“She needs you, Optimus.”

.

.

.

It was the middle of the night when you woke up. You feel thirsty but need more than water. Your body has had strange cravings lately but you were not about to randomly drink energon just because the baby wanted to. 

You knew this place too well. The smell of metal and bots was everywhere. The soft vans of the air conditioner are comforting. The orange light coming from Ratchet’s data screen illuminated the room enough for you not to be scared. Although you didn’t want to admit it, you missed this place. Even when you much preferred to be sleeping in the coach instead of the medical berth. 

“Do you need something?”

Optimus came back from behind you. You shake your body and back away a few centimeters. 

“My apologies, I did not want to scare you.”

He had mass-displaced. Still over 10 feet and really tall compared to any regular human. He tries to be delicate even when you know he is not fond of this form. Optimus had told you before that it was a bit uncomfortable for him. Of course, he never seemed to complain whenever he mass shifted to lay on your bed.

You look down and caress your stomach. It would be stupid to believe that Ratchet did not find out about your little secret and told Optimus about it. 

“It’s alright.”

Awkwardly, he sits next to you. You thought he might be furious with you. For lying to him in the first place. But now you feel ashamed for a reason you can’t understand. The mere fact of deceiving Optimus Prime is an unpleasant experience. 

“(Y/N) …”

“I am sorry I didn’t tell you,” you don’t look at him. Instead, you look down at your feet and how they hang from the medical berth.  “Don’t get angry at Fowler, please. I was the one who told him not to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you want to share such important information?”

“Because you said … You wished you had never met me,” you feel a knot forming on your throat. It hurts to speak, to even form thoughts and remember what happened seven months ago. His voice is still very present in your memories. The pain is still in your heart.  “So I thought, you wouldn’t want our child either.”

Clenching his servo into a fist, Optimus fights the urge to hold you. You were so close, yet the only thing he can indulge himself with is your scent. It's different now. It was your smell combined with a new aroma. That of his sparkling. 

“I have made many hard decisions in my life,” it was difficult for him to look at you. Now, he feels indignant to stand before you. You were to him what the gods were to their subjects. Devotion is not enough for him to satisfy his service to you. 

 “But the hardest decision was to let you go and I did it because I was scared. Even now, I doubt myself. Maybe you’ll be safer somewhere else. Away from me, away from all of this,”

Reminiscing about the past is painful to him. Most memories of you are lovely, unforgettable. But that time seven months ago when the Decepticons had captured you. The screams, the terror in your face, Megatron ordering you to tell him how scared you were. How he couldn’t do anything. Helpless. Pathetic. 

And for a small second. For a fraction he really believed he had lost you. That was enough for him to know he won’t function without you. 

 “If something were to happen to you … I won’t be able to … I can’t-”

He feels his entire core shake. His servos trembling as they remember holding your almost lifeless body.

“I am sorry,” his voice glitches. “I said unforgivable things with hopes that they would push you away. To protect you. I can live with you hating me but I cannot envision the day the universe takes your soul from me.” 

May Primus have mercy on his spark. May he forgive him but Optimus would throw everything away just to hold you. Just for his words to reach your heart. To feel your touch once again. 

“But I was a fool to believe I could stay away from you. To think that my restraint was as strong as my morals.” 

There is silence and although he doesn’t dare to look at you, he can feel your presence. For now it was enough to have you next to him. 

  “You may not believe in my words but believe this; the only good thing this fool has ever done is love you. It's the only thing … the only decision I have no doubts about.”

Suddenly, softness meets his faceplate. Immediately, his optics were on the blink of releasing energon. With a simple touch, you had healed him. A part of his spark that felt empty was full again. The meaning to his life was restored. 

“Do you even know how much I missed you?” 

You ask him with a gentle voice. Caressing every sense of his audials, engraving them in his processor. To forever remain in the deepest part of his mind. 

He can’t even begin to tell you what he truly feels. He had given up. Come to realize that no words, no language in the present, past nor future could ever be vast enough to express the love he has for you. 

Optimus could try with his actions. That may not be enough either. But he will have all of eternity to make for it. 

“Everyday after you left, I would go to the rooftop on the base and I would count each star in the sky,” he puts a servo on top of your hand and his dermas brush against your skin, a small kiss. “To try and relieve the nights I would count the stars in your eyes.”

You didn’t say anything. Whenever it came to talking, Optimus was always more proficient. You never felt the need to say something either, he always knew what you meant. What you were feeling. Words were not necessary. Not when he can read your eyes so easily. 

“And not even the timeless company of the entire universe could compare to one second with you.”

That night, you rested in his chassis. Missing your warmth, he embraced you. Your stomach pressed lightly against him. This experience was something new to him and he was terrified of it. Afraid he won’t be good enough to be a partner or a father. But as long as you were with him, the impossible became possible. So maybe becoming someone worthy of a sparkling could also be feasible. 

Optimus will try his very best. For you, for the sparkling. For himself. Failing it's not an option and being a father was a greater honor than being a Prime. A title he would give up if only you would ask him. Of course, you will never ask him such a thing. He knew you better than that. 

Optimus believes in Primus, fully. But he is thankful to whatever gods created you. If he could and knew how, he would pray and thank them. 

He now has another chance. Another opportunity. To give you what he has been collecting. 

Maybe tomorrow he will give you all the dandelions he found for you. 

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A/N: Sorry for the late Christmas post. Merry Christmas and Happy New Years I hope y’all enjoyed this. As always, for any questions, comments, concerns or prompt ideas you can send me an inbox. For all the love and support … Thank you! See you next year!

Next:

[desperate-gay]

Frido, in Sweden, "You have to stop forgetting a jacket just so you can wear mine, im cold 😐"

Baby It’s Cold Outside

Fridolina Rolfö x fem!reader

“The temperature is going to drop some. It’s going to be a bit chilly.” Frido informs with her hand resting on your thigh while focusing down on her phone.

You’re both parked outside a cafe you both love, deciding to stop and grab your favorite drinks before your small date-like activity.

“I’m sure it’ll be okay.” You murmur softly, rubbing your hand over the soft skin of hers, causing her to look up at you with a gentle smile.

“Of course.” The blonde whispers in agreement, leaning in to place a quick kiss on your lips before starting the car to head to your next destination.

Because of international break, both you and your girlfriend are back in her hometown of Kungsbacka, which, luckily, is only minutes away from Gamla Ullevi stadium, where she plays. There won’t be another game for a few days, so you both figured you’d use her free time to do something together.

She immediately suggested Kungsbackaskogen, a place she loved to wander around when she was a child. Frido also knows your love for nature, and this time of year is perfect for admiring the trees.

“It’s almost as beautiful as it was when I was a kid. Maybe just a bit less colorful.” Frido comments, reminiscing on old times while pulling into the lot.

The moment you open the car door and step out, the breeze hits you—a sharp reminder of the warning your girlfriend gave you just minutes ago. You instinctively pull your thin cardigan tighter around yourself, glancing over at the blonde, who is already rounding the car to meet you, a smirk plastered on her face.

“I did tell you the temperature was dropping.” Frido says in a sing-song voice, ultimately teasing you before wrapping her arms around your face. “Would you like me to grab your jacket, min kärlek?”

“Um, about that...” You trail off already feeling the disapproving gaze the taller girl is giving you.

“Please tell me you didn’t forget your coat when you’re in Sweden!”

“Don’t scold me! I was just excited to do this with you, and I forgot.” You shrug with a sheepish smile, batting your eyelashes in innocence.

“Mhm.” Frido hums unfazed, already having an idea of what’s coming next.

“Maybe my beautiful, tall, sweet, gorgeous girlfriend you has lived here all her life would like to, I don’t know, share her coat?” You continue your flattery expressions, but it your girlfriend’s unimpressed look doesn’t waver.

“No.”

“What do you mean no?” You gape, not expecting to be turned down so quickly.

“I mean no.” Frido raises her eyebrow with a grin, dragging out the word just to annoy you.

“You really want me to freeze out here? In your beloved childhood forest? I can see the headlines now. ‘Famous Swedish football player’s partner freezes in the woods of her childhood!’” You enunciate each word dramatically, throwing a hand to the sky.

“You’re so dramatic.” Frido huffs, rolling her eyes in amusement before walking toward the entrance of the trail. “Are you going to join me or not, miss dramatisk?”

You stare at her blankly, not believing she’s actually refusing to give you her coat. Usually, she’d cave right away, but for some reason, today is not one of those days.

Frido takes a few more steps before glancing over her shoulder at you, her smirk only growing at your unmoving stance. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and it only makes you pout harder.

“You’re really just going to leave me here?” You call after her, crossing your arms over your chest in stubbornness.

“Yes, unless you choose to join me on our date.”

That word suddenly pulls you out of your dramatic fit and finally makes your way towards the blonde.

You wish you could enjoy the nature of your girlfriend’s hometown, but only a few minutes into your walk and the wind is sharper than expected. The chill bites at your skin, making your cheeks rosy and leaving the snot in your nose frozen.

“Fridolina, snälla.” You beg suddenly, tired of feeling like you might shatter if you bump into anything.

“Weren’t you the one who looked at the weather before we even left the house?” Frido questions, quirking an eyebrow as you somehow shrink further into your cardigan. “You knew it was going to get cold, didn’t you? And you still didn’t bring your jacket!”

You give Frido a guilty smile, caught red-handed in your plan. The taller girl tries to be stubborn, but watching you shiver tugs at her heart. With an exasperated sigh, she quickly shrugs off her coat and wraps it around your smaller frame.

The moment the soft material touches your skin, you sigh in relief, sinking into the warmth. Frido watches as you bring the fabric up to your nose, inhaling the familiar floral perfume she always wears.

“Du har tur att jag älskar dig.” Frido mutters before throwing an arm over your shoulder affectionately, guiding you forward.

“You have to stop forgetting a jacket just so you can wear mine, now I’m cold.” Frido whines only a few minutes later with dramatic stomps of her feet.

“But it smells like you.” You mumble sweetly, usually a way to make the blonde melt but not this time.

Frido lets out a dramatic groan. “You can smell me whenever you want, just don’t take my coat when it feels like the world is about to freeze over!”

“How about we go back home and sit in front of our warm heater, yes?” You offer, guilt creeping in.

“Yes, please.” Frido sighs, her thick accent slipping out in her mild distress.

“I’ll give you as many kisses and cuddles as you want as a reward for being so chivalrous.”

Frido perks up immediately, eyes wide with interest.

“Can you make that dessert I like too? You know, for being extra chivalrous?”

“Of course, baby.”

[imrllytootiredforthis]

wc: 1.1k .... i tried istg this is not what i intended to do, i tried to make this short :(

warnings: fem bodied reader, switchy? kinda power bottom reader, reader rec (vi wears a strap), titty worship (vi rec) both parties are very desperate, reader calls her cupcake, biting, marking, idk what else.

this is also perhaps based off a tiktok edit i saw....um anyway!!

she's over you, on top of you, whatever you want to call it. a hand clenches around your hip for dear life, the other one is beside your head to stabilize herself.

her tongue is in your mouth and her strap buried deep inside you.

her moans are needy and loud. even if every one is muffled and wet with the way you suck on her tongue, they're still loud enough to ring in your ears on repeat like a damn bell.

she kisses desperately, whines prettily, groans hungrily. like she's trying to devour you. like you're trying to consume her.

it's fucking disgusting, dirty and downright messy. saliva smeared across your face and her's; mixing with the residue cum on her face from when she ate you out. it makes her taste all the sweeter, makes you feel all the more feral, grabbing chunks of her black hair in your fists, dragging her in like she's the air you need to breathe.

It's like neither of you can get enough. like you're animals tussling on the streets with the way you howl, with the way she pants, with the way your nails dig into her back, drawing blood.

she growls into your skin. it's like she can feel the way your cunt clenches deliciously around the toy, feel the pulsing warmth of your pussy wrapped around her, sucking her in. feel every thrust as your heels dig into her back, pushing her, encouraging her.

her thrusts are needy, though they started out deep and hard, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. enough to knock the wind from your lungs with every thrust, brutal like she wished it were real so she could fill you up and steal your breath away like that.

but with prolonged time, even with all her muscles and power they've become more shallow, sloppy, slowed.

her thighs burn, her muscles ache.

it's fucking maddening.

you sound like a wounded animal.

"vi," you pant between kisses. "fuck," you hiss as she nudges against your g-spot harshly. "faster, go fucking faster."

her forehead presses against yours as she grunts in reply. sweat runs down her temples, smudging her black makeup further, her hair brushes over your skin.

you push it back, cupping her face as you stare into her eyes. she's tired, you can see it. she had a long day at the pits, you know that. you told her that it was okay if she was too tired, but she insisted, pulling back her hair and getting on her knees.

her lips find your's desperately, she whines into them, licking into your mouth.

your body screams for release.

fuck, sometimes you just have to,

she lets out a cute gasp when you move, messily rolling over through the soaked sheets before you come out on top.

your hands plant themselves on her chest, rolling her nipples with your fingers, curious to what noises you can elicit. she whines, looking up at you with wide eyes.

"shit, you're such a fucking liar" you say in that ragged, sex filled voice that makes her head spin. it doesn't help that you're pinching one to hear another one of those delicious noises. "my tits aren't sensitive, my ass."

"s-shut up."

this position isn't unheard of for you two, but you've always been one to lay back and let her do the work. playing with her tits is new though, since she'd always claimed that they didn't do anything for her.

that's not what her body told you now.

you lean down, hands never leaving her tits as you start kissing up her neck, lazily grinding your hips down, moaning at the delicious sparks of heat lighting up inside you. "this okay, cupcake?" you whisper.

her voice is a perfect mix of vulnerable and wanton, "y-yeah." you squeeze the fat of her tits, tugging at a nipple until her back arches up, thrusting into you unexpectedly.

your eyes roll back for a moment, mouth falling open. she does it again and you curse under your breath. "keep fucking doing that" she obeys easily.

"good girl." you pant as you lift your hips up for the first time, letting yourself fall back. "fuck," it feels better than you remembered.

you bury your face into her neck to hide your moans, nipping at her skin to distract yourself from the coursing waves of pleasure as her hands find their home on your hips.

you begin biting, sucking, leaving red marks that'll fade to purple. it'll go with her dark attire, warn off all those other bitches who watch her at the pits and think she's someone they can try to fuck.

they can't. she's fucking your's.

"you like that?" she lilts, head thrown back, eyes rolled back at the feeling of your hands and mouth all over her. she really shouldn't be talking but you can also do nothing but bury your teeth into her skin as a reply.

you're so fucking wet, and so fucking close. you can't fucking think. your lips trail down her neck, over her collarbone, and then sealing over her right boob, sucking onto it gently for a moment.

and then her fingers find your clit.

you jolt like you've been electrocuted, like there isn't lights bursting behind your eyes as they roll back, back arching, teeth sinking into her skin for the umpteenth time.

it'll leave a pretty bite mark surrounding her nipple.

it drives her more crazy. her fingers moving faster against the nub. the feeling of your warm mouth around like fucking heaven. her feet plant on the bed beneath her to drive up into you harder, faster, hitting places that you didn't even know about.

her hand on the back of your head, presses you closer to her, spit covering her chest as you cum.

the tension in you snaps, hitting you head on like a train as you came undone with a cry of her name. your body convulses over her, your thighs trembling on either side of her hips. she never stops rubbing your clit, and you never stop grinding, riding out your orgasm with a gasp until it starts to ache.

"stop." and the pressure is gone immediately.

giving her nipple one last shuddering lick, you rest your forehead against her collarbone, sighing.

no words are exchanged for a moment, no words need to be. fingers run through your hair, and a hand soothes lightly over your hip. you can hear her heard beating from here, hear her panting lightly.

you're panting too, closing your eyes before you work up enough energy to make the simply action of looking up at her, a wide grin across your face. "did you cum? from me playing with your nipples a little bit?"

she groans. "shut up."

a/n: this is not an invitation to ask me to start writing for sub reader n stuff, cause at it's core i don't really see this as sub reader, just letting everyone know cause i most likely won't write stuff like this like ever again

i was in a mood while writing this and while it might be shit cause i haven't written lots of stuff like this before, i hope you all enjoyed it!!

[mariasont]

hiii! I read your last spencer one shot AND I LOVED IT! IT WAS SO SWEET AND YOU'RE SO TALENTED!! Would you write something about post prison reid and shy reader? I was thinking of her as the media liaison (in my mind she is old-fashioned in music and clothes I'd wear skirts everyday, her emotional intelligence makes her good at her job, despite her shyness). Maybe she's clumsy, especially when she gets nervous and more especially (I don't even know if that's grammatically correct) when she's around Spencer.

Thank you so much for reading this, you're doing an EXCELLENT job, your works are a masterpiece!! 💕💖💝💓💓💖💞💕💖💓

Make a Wish - S.R

a/n: eekkkkkk post-prison spencer reid has me in a CHOKEHOLD! thank you so much for requesting, i'm so sorry for the delay! i hope i did your request justice!! I LOVE LOVE YOU!

masterlist

pairings: post prison!spencer reid x shy!reader

wc: 0.9k

You had been meaning to give the reports fastened in your hands to Spencer for give-or-take two hours now. Each time you gathered the courage to approach him, just one glance, one simple stupid glance from those piercing eyes set your nerves on fire and sent your brain in overdrive.

As the new media liaison from the narcotics unit, you were warned about the BAU's intimidating figures, particularly Rossi and Emily. However, no warning came regarding Spencer Reid. They mentioned his tendencies for long-winded explanations and awkward social interactions but not the aura of intensity he exuded. Whenever he entered a room, you instinctively started looking for an exit, not because of his criminal record, but because you found yourself hopelessly mesmerized by him.

He was perfect in every sense of the word—brilliant, compassionate, selfless, and an exceptional agent. At least, this is what you had observed from afar. A part of you was scared that any real interaction with him would shatter the idyllic image you had crafted in your head, and you weren't confident you were prepared for such disillusionment. However, you needed to give him these damn papers, dreading the alternative, which was getting summoned to Emily's office.

"Hi."

You did it, okay, first step complete. You opened your mouth, determined to get out the next part you had practiced a little over twenty times in your head, but the words seemed to dissipate into a misty fog in your brain.

"Um, these are for you," you said, rocking back onto the balls of your mary janes, placing the report on his desk. "It's the Henderson lie detector test transcript?"

"Is it?"

You realized you had said it like a question.

You paused, the part of your brain stuttering for a second, trying to flip over the thousands of scenarios you had rehearsed in your head for this interaction. None of them had included those words.

Just a little off script and you felt your fight or flight kick in—nails digging into your palms as you avoided eye contact.

"Yes." A little more confident this time, not by much, and it quickly deflated as you second guessed yourself, stepping closer to peer over his shoulder at the document. "At least I think."

"I'm just messing with you, it is." He said, eyes flickering down to the document, then to you. "You okay?"

"M-Me? Okay? Yeah, of course." The words were stumbling out of your mouth at a rate that was hard to keep up with. "Do I not look okay?"

"No, of course you look okay," he responded, brows knitting together as his gaze traveled down your body, no doubt dissecting your every thought. "You just seem... a bit nervous."

You opened your mouth, aiming to articulate a coherent thought, but it fell short and was quickly interrupted by Spencer.

He suddenly leaned in, his eyes narrowing. "Wait, hold still; you have an eyelash."

He was so close, you swore you feel his breath on your cheeks, instantly warming them. Your body was in overdrive, trying to recalibrate as his finger grazed the area under your right eye. You closed your eyes, almost unwillingly, relishing in the unexpected touch.

This was weird. Every nerve in your body was on high alert, and you balled your hand into a fist, attempting to mask the way you were shaking.

The sound of your name snapped you out of your daze. Your eyes followed suit, meeting Spencer's prying eyes. His finger was raised, your eyelash perched on the tip. Your face could have been a furnace, flames of heat spreading from your neck to your nose.

"Do you want to make a wish?"

He looked at you expectantly, eyes darting from your face to his raised pointer finger.

"Okay."

You closed your eyes, forming the wish in your mind before blowing on the lash. You watched it float to the ground, settling gently on the toe of Spencer's shoe. 

"What did you wish for?"

"I feel like I'm not supposed to tell you that," you say, pulling at the ends of your hair.

He was undeniably good-looking. It wasn't like you were just realizing it; you had eyes and you were only human. But up close, you could see every detail—the dark circles under his eyes, the rough stubble under his jaw.

"I think you're right."

The sudden intimacy of the moment made your heart skip a beat. You stepped back, nodding at his words and also nothing in particular.

"Anyway, yeah, those are the papers—," you began, turning to walk away. As you did, you bumped your hip into the desk beside you, hissing under your breath in response.

"Christ, are you okay?" His hand was on your hip as the words came out of his mouth.

The touch only seemed to intensify your embarrassment. You stepped out of his grip, dropping your phone as you did which you quickly bent down to pick up.

"Sorry, yeah, I'm fine, just forgot I have a meeting with Emily, so I'm just gonna—," you pointed towards her office, quickly making your escape from Spencer as you tried to catch your breath.

Once you were a distance you deemed safe enough, you allowed yourself a quick glance back at him. He was smirking, and you felt that all familiar heat rising into your chest once again.

You really hoped that wish would kick in soon.

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[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

WHERE THE NORTH WIND, MEETS THE SEA. ( HOTD x READER )

AUTHOR NOTE! missing Hotd and my sexy war criminals Targaryen's during this 2 year gap between seasons / filming <3 pairing: Lord Cregan Stark x Lady Crane! Reader prompt : Courting with Cregan. word count: 1, 000+ words

You and Cregan lived in two vastly different world’s. It was adamantly clear when the two of you had met, from the way you dressed in a gown of loose silk and him in thick furs and leathers, to the way you both greeted each other. You were not used to the cold, or the rugged nature of Northern Culture. Cregan was not used to the sweltering heat of the South, or the more petty nature of Southern Culture.

But, there was a draw to the foreign, to the opposite of what you were used to. He was so..different then, the men that you knew. He did not respite poetry, for he had no need for it. He was rough, calloused from the brutal North. Yet, he was soft in his own way. Like a wolf dropping a dead rabbit to show its loyalty.

It was hard to not be drawn into it, to be drawn to him, to those enchanting grey eyes that held so much emotion. You wished to know more, of him, of the Northern culture. You’d heard many things of their foreign culture, them being as wild as wildings, wearing the furs of men and animals. 

Unable to keep your gaze from him, you chew on your bottom lip, cowering slightly at his monstrous height. He was tall and broad, more monster than man. But, he was so gentle in the way he stared at you. It eased the nerves, to a point. Though, it was undeniable that he could be rather intimidating. Fiddling with the rings on your fingers, you walk slowly by his side, a soft breeze in the courtyard air. It was a rather murky day, looking like it may rain later in the day, so you would have to enjoy the little time you had before it did while you could. 

“You are rather tall, are you sure you are not a giant pretending to be Lord Stark?” You softly jest, trying to ease the tension inside of you.

“Or mayhaps you are just short.” He cracks a smile, making you chuckle.

“Am not! I am quite tall for most Ladies in the Reach, actually.” You flush a soft pink at his words.

“Oh, are you now?” He raises a brow with a smile, “Do they feed you Ladies in the Reach so little that you cannot grow properly?”

“No, we have plenty.”

“Then, why are you so short, hm?” He grins, making you flush a brighter pink. 

“Mayhaps to you, a man so tall.”  You argue, shaking your head.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you nod your head softly to nothing in particular, your face feeling the heat of your blush. It was not often that you were so taken off guard. You had brother’s and heard the rather crude words in Courtyard blunder, the kind of things that would make any maiden blush. Those times you did not flinch, nor blush. Yet, Cregan Stark managed it.

It made you feel giddy all over again. Cregan Stark, handsome, dreamy, witty, and capable of making your heart flutter in ways you didn't know was possible. If it wouldn’t embarrass you so much, you’d have twirled your hair and kicked your feet in the air with a giggle by now.  He was just…perfect. How Ladies did not swarm to you, was surprising.

“Um, the North. I’e heard much about it, whispers of your odd ways of culture. Direwolves, and having a Wall so grand it terrified the Targaryen’s dragons. Um, are any of them true? Or just fables of a mad man?” You ramble, fearful of offending him. 

“Ahh, yes, those whispers..” He hums, a noticeable shift in his mood.

“I..I did not mean to⎯” You blubber, trying to apologize.

“Oh, no, I take no offense. Just think it's mad to believe such fables.” He shakes his head, “Some of what they say of the North, riding Direwolves instead of horses. Truly mad fables.”

“Oh..”

“Some are true, I will admit. Of the Wall and how what was beyond it terrified those dragon’s, of seeing Direwolves. Though, most are lies, slanders meant to mock my family and our way of life.” He explains, his eyes narrowing at the end.

"I am sorry. Um, I can understand how it feels, in a way. My family has also had such slanders said of them. My great Grandsire was a squire to King Jaehaerys, and was said to have fallen out of companionship with Princess Daella after he attempted to kiss her." You ramble, unable to stop the words from spilling out. 

You just wanted to keep talking to him⎯about him, his family, the North⎯or anything he wished really. He had a nice voice, listened and he was nice to speak to. And.. Snapping out of your thoughts as you realize you had let them wander too far, you look up from the ground, finding him staring you down already. Oh.. Chewing on your bottom lip, you regret speaking so much, feeling a fool. He probably thought you were some gossip wart, and that was the most unattractive.

“Am I talking too much?” You mumble meekly, cowering in place.

“No..” He grins softly, “I think you are not talking enough actually.” 

“Really?”

“Yes, tell me more about your family in the Reach.” He nods, making you flush more.

“Um, yes, well..” You nod, gathering your thoughts. “My Grandsire before King Jaehaerys passed, used to actually train with him, with the longsword. He used to gloat of besting him once. And, oh! Um..There is also my Uncle..”

---

[navybrat817]

It's Cold Outside

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky reflects while standing out in the snow and meets an angel... you.

Word Count: Over 700

Warnings: Slight angst, Bucky remembering the past, instacrush of sorts, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: For @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge: the first day of snow. May do a few more ficlets for them ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he was happy to see snow. It reminded him too much of that fateful day on the train. The snowflakes falling from the sky was as if he was falling again, this time in slow motion. The crystals were beautiful, but fragile. They could easily break or spell doom for people who weren’t careful. And it was cold. Very cold.

He rubbed his metal arm absentmindedly under his coat. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine warm flesh instead of an instrument of destruction. Maybe he would’ve gotten a tattoo to honor his unit or family. The needle piercing his skin would’ve been pain he welcomed instead of the pain he didn’t ask for others to inflict on him. He didn’t just lose his arm when he fell. He lost himself.

The life of Sergeant Barnes ended, and the Winter Soldier began.

Tilting his head toward the sky, he couldn’t remember why he went outside to begin with. Maybe the bitter cold would freeze over the gaping mental hole in his heart long enough that he’d stop bleeding. Or maybe he wanted to feel the sharp wind blowing in his face to prove that he was still alive and standing. That no matter how many times the world knocked him down, he’d get up again.

But, God, why did it have to be so cold?

And why did he have to face it alone?

“Hi!”

Snowflakes gently fell around you and made you shine like the brightest star in the sky. So did your smile. It was so blinding he almost looked away, but he was afraid if he did so that you’d disappear.

A beautiful voice drifted to his ears and he was certain his heart stopped, but not in a way that made him afraid. Turning toward the source of that sound, he found himself staring at you. And his heart never beat faster.

Where did you come from? Were you an angel who landed safely from heaven? Did angels exist? He was ready to become a believer.

And it was the first time he felt warm all day.

He grudgingly tore his gaze away to make sure you weren’t looking at someone else, but he was the only one on the sidewalk. “Hi,” he croaked.

“Do you live here? I’m moving in,” you said, nodding to the building behind him. “Figures the day I do would be the day it snows and no one can make it out here to help,” you added teasingly when he didn’t answer right away.

He was too captivated by you to speak.

Blinking and telling himself not to gawk at you like a creep, he then noticed the box in your hands. “Yeah, I do,” he said, his feet moving on their own accord. “Can I help?” he asked, offering to take the box. Any excuse to continue to be close to you.

“Oh, thanks,” you smiled, making him lose his breath. “I really appreciate it, um…”

“Bucky. I’m Bucky,” he said, wishing he could shake your hand.

You gave him your name as a snowflake touched the corner of your mouth and melted. He no longer wanted frost over his heart. He wanted your warmth to fill his heart instead. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” he smiled back, spotting the small truck nearby. He understood why the weather might keep people away, but having to move by yourself? He didn’t want you to freeze or risk you falling with the many trips. “And, listen, if you need help with more of your stuff, I have time.”

“Really?” The next smile you gave him was a bit shyer than the previous, but was just as beautiful. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he promised.

You briefly touched his left hand, and he could blame the gasp on the chill in the air if you asked. He didn’t have to close his eyes to imagine the warmth. It moved from his fingertips to his shoulder and he wondered if you really were an angel.

“That would be amazing. Thank you.” You turned around to get another box. “I’ll have to find a way to repay you.”

Maybe you’d join him for dinner one night. That would be repayment enough for him. And seeing you smile over your shoulder, for the first time since he could remember, he didn’t mind the cold. Or the snow.

Lovelies, I think Bucky deserves some love for Christmas. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[slytherin-princess-x]

Don’t get caught

Theodore nott x y/n riddle

An/ hi guys I’m back with a new short story, enjoy

The air in my dorm room was thick, charged with the illicit thrill of stolen moments. Theodore’s hands were tangled in my hair, his lips hot and demanding against mine. My back was pressed against the cool wood of the door, my legs locked around his waist for balance. The world outside the confines of our clandestine bubble ceased to exist.

We’d been doing this for weeks now, navigating the treacherous waters of Hogwarts’ social scene while attempting to keep our relationship a secret. It was a dangerous game, one made all the more exhilarating by the lurking threat of discovery. Tonight, the risk felt palpable as his fingers grazed my bare skin beneath my school shirt, sending shivers that had nothing to do with the cold castle air.

Then, the world crashed back in with a jarring knock. My heart leaped into my throat, and I knew, before I even heard their voices, that our recklessness was about to catch up with us.

“Hey y/n, open the door!” Mattheo’s voice boomed from the other side, followed by Tom's, more measured but just as insistent, "Open up y/n."

Panic, cold and sharp, shot through me. I pulled away from Theo, my cheeks burning. The kiss was broken, the spell shattered. Theo, his grey eyes flashing with annoyance, released me, clearly frustrated at the interruption. I scrambled to unwrap my legs from his waist, my movements jerky and hurried. He was about to protest, his mouth opening to say something, but I slapped a hand over his lips, my eyes wide with warning.

“Shhh!” I hissed, pointing to the narrow gap between the door and the wall. He glared, but understood the gravity of the situation.

I pushed him behind the door where he wouldn’t be seen when I opened it. My shirt was disheveled, my breathing heavy, the only thing I had was my school shirt and my underwear. I tried to appear as calm as possible under the circumstances. Taking a deep breath, I edged the door open just enough to create a narrow opening, my back pressed against the frame.

“Hey Mattheo,” I said, my voice a little breathy. I focused my gaze on my brother's face, careful not to let my eyes wander past the threshold. “I’m kinda busy, sorry.”

Mattheo tilted his head, a flicker of suspicion in his dark eyes. "Busy? At this hour? What could be so important that you can't open the door?" he questioned, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Tom, ever the observer, stood behind Mattheo, his expression unreadable. I knew what they were both thinking.

My mind raced, trying to come up with a believable explanation. "Oh you know… study, cleaning… loads of things" I rambled, wincing at the patheticness of my alibi. It was clear I was flustered and it didn't go unnoticed by my brothers.

Meanwhile, Theo decided to be a menace. I felt his tongue dart out to lick my palm. He was testing me, pushing the boundaries of our precarious game. It was a dumb move, but a wave of something almost like amusement washed over me. I knew what he was doing. He wanted to see what I would do when put under pressure. Wrapping my hand around his neck, I squeezed gently, my nails grazing his skin. His eyes widened slightly, but he didn't resist, the amused smirk still playing on his lips. I knew what he wanted. If he wanted to play, I would play.

"You sound a little out of breath" Tom stated, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the small gap through the door.

"I um.. was just doing some yoga to wind down" I stammered, trying to maintain a straight face. I could feel Theo fidgeting behind the door, I hoped he would stay put.

Mattheo chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent another wave of panic through me. "Yoga? Really?" He was obviously not convinced either.

"Yeah, it helps me relax, you know?" I continued to lie, wishing I had an invisibility cloak handy.

I could feel their eyes piercing me, trying to see through the narrow gap. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. This was it, I thought, they were going to figure it out. I could almost hear Theo's exasperated sigh behind me.

"Well, if you're not going to open the door, I guess we'll just go" Mattheo said. He backed away slightly, Tom following him.

"Whatever" I huffed, trying to act like it didn't bother me that they didn't believe me with a small roll of my eyes.

The brothers gave me one last look before finally turning away. As soon as I heard their footsteps fade down the hall, I slammed the door shut, letting out a shaky breath of relief.

I immediately turned to Theo, my gaze full of equal parts panic and anger. "That was too close!' I hissed, my voice trembling. He peeled my hand off his mouth, his expression still annoyed despite the close call.

"Tell me about it, now where were we?" he said grabbing my face and pulling me in for another kiss, my panic immediately forgotten as I was swept into our secret world once more.

Taglist: @yootvi @redeemingvillains @littlemadamred @smut-anarchy

[kaciebello]

Horny panic

Slytherin boys genre: crack, smut ish warning: sex note: this was inspired by the TikTok trend ' I was cooking and then I burned the bacon' Navigation Masterlist

Lorenzo

Lorenzo's head dangled from the sofa as they kissed down towards his waistline. His shirt long discarded somewhere in the room. He can feel every brush of their lips and every single shaky breath they took. Just as he was going to open his eyes, he could feel them getting up. He can feel their lips on his and can’t help but smirk. Pulling away and making an exclamation, he says, “Are you scared to go lower?” His hand caresses their things. Without blinking, they say, “Um, yeah? It’s scary down there, and I don’t know what to do with that.” Lorenzo let out a breathy laugh.

Theodore

fast, messy, and handsy. That was one way to describe what making out with Theo felt like. That's how he liked it. He could feel their hand slip down to his lap. With a smile, his own hand followed. While theirs simply rested there, his went for this obvious. Breaking the kiss, he went and unzipped his pants. Only to be stopped by theirs. Slowly but surely, they zipped his pants back up. “Oh! Let's put that away!” A smile played on their face, and Theo could do anything but smile as well.

Blaise

He makes sure he's gentle. There was nothing gentle about being pressed against a wall, so he tried to be the gentle one. Kissing them slowly but with passion. He tried to read if they wanted to change anything, trying to bend for their comfort. So when he felt their hands sneak up his body, he couldn't help but smile into the kiss. He, however, panicked when their hands pushed him away. Breathless, they looked him in the eyes and said, “Can I please have the bottom lip while kissing?” Cut point on their face. Blaise couldn't help but laugh rather hysterically. 

Draco

 Normally, Draco would be composed. However, with them straddling him on his own bed, he could hardly think straight. Their hands slowly unbuttoned his shirt, already throwing the tie somewhere beyond his comprehension. As they pulled away from the kiss, Draco could only look up at them as they sat up straight. Hazy looks in his eyes, and he takes them all in. Hair messy and clothes messed up. They looked him up and down. “I wish we were seahorses so I could get you pregnant,” leaves their mouth before they could stop it. Draco froze for a second, looking at them. They stop only for a second before Draco sits up and kisses them again. Because you know what? Hell yeah.

Mattheo

Kissing them made Mattheo feel like he was immune to the world. Not immune, he felt like he was not part of it. He was in a completely different astral plane. He tried so hard to focus on them more, but it was like a blanket was put over him, ready to lure him into a blissed-out state. He could feel their lips leave his, so he opened his eyes. With a dazed expression and ringing in his ears, he watched them carefully, trying to figure out what was going on. He can see them saying something; however, the only thing that leaves him is, “Huh?”. A small laugh escapes them before they leave him again, not torturing the boy.

Taglist

@klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone ,@enfppuff , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet @jazz-berry , @justatadbonkers , @partnerincrime0 , @schaebickel , @deluluassapocalypse , @adreamingpendulum, @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo, @happydragonfrog , @harvey-malfoy , @helendeath , @caffeine-addict-slug , @mrvlfanman , @pink-heartz , @feistyfox47 , @nickspotatoesalad , @elltheawkward , @myunperfektstorys , @wnbweasley, @africancracker , @broadwaybaby123, @stardustsymphony , @romantasyreader28, @chelawrites , @catching-fire-in-the-wind , @hecate-frenchfries

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Holiday Spirit

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You don't have much reason to enjoy the holidays until a generous man walks in the door.

Character: Captain Syverson

Day Thirteen of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - i just can't wait until the holidays are over 

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You watch the snow gather at the corners of the large window pane with dread. The longer it falls, the more your anxiety rises. How on earth are you supposed to get home? Not too mention the more important question, how are any customers supposed to get in the store? 

Your phone jingles at the very thought, your manager calling as if she could hear your silent plea for rescue. You grab your phone but don't answer until the fourth ring. You don't want her to know you've been doom scrolling the weather forecast. 

Gloria greets you without formality, "what's it look like there?" 

"Um, bad," you answer honestly. "Snowy." 

"I mean customers. What are the numbers?" 

"Oh..." you blink and look around the empty shop. "I think most people are staying home. There hasn't been anyone since I started." 

"What about the walkway? Have you shoveled it?" It's as much an accusation as a question. "They won't come in if they can't get in." 

You wish you had the courage to mention that it isn't just the sidewalk, you haven't seen car drive by in over an hour. Those you can see are parked and not going anywhere as the snow piles over their windows. You frown and again, look at the windows in horror. 

"Go out and clear it and maybe you'll sell a few pieces. No point having the lights on if you're not doing anything," she snips. 

"Meredith closed up across the street--" 

"I don't care what that old crone did. Get out there. The shovel's in the back room." She commands. 

"Okay," you agree meekly. 

You know you shouldn't be such a pushover but you need this job. Even if it isn't much. It's a small independent shop that sells candles, lotions, and random nicknacks. You're not really sure what to call it. 

You hang up and go into the backroom and grab your coat. It's not the best. A sherpa thing you go used at the Good Will. Your boots are a couple years old and you can tell. You wear three pairs of socks just to keep your toes from hurting as bad. 

You pull on your thin gloves and grab the shovel. You approach the front door and gaze through the glass. Look at it! You'll be lucky if you don't get lost. 

You go to push through the door. You have to shove your shoulder into it just to get outside as the wind blows angrily. The door slams behind you and you plant the shovel into the thick snow as you look around. Ugh, where do you even begin? 

This time of year is always too much. Who decided the holidays needed to be in the middle of winter? It's not fair, but life just isn't. 

You scoop up the snow bit by bit. Your muscles ache as you try to heave into out of the way but as the powder builds, it's only more and more difficult to do so. As you final get clear of the door, you look back and see a new blanket of white. It doesn't matter, you'll be outside all night if you try to keep it clean. 

You work your way across the store front as the sky continues to dim. It never really got light as the sun stayed hidden in the clouds. You put your head down against the swirling flakes and you grip the shovel tight. You groan and grunt each time you lift it. 

"Now what they got you out here doing all this for?" A grizzly voice draws your head up and you bat your lashes as snow catches in them. You stare up at the burly man in his heavy brown coat and black toque. His beard is sparkling with flakes. 

"Um, I... work in there," you nod to the store. "Gotta make sure people can get in." 

"Y'all should be at home," he tuts. 

"It's just me," you shrug. 

"That's a shame. Damn big shame," he shakes his head, "lady like you shouldn't be out here in the cold." 

"Well, it's my job, I guess," you say. 

"Here," he puts his hand on the handle of the shovel, "you go in. Get warm." 

"Oh, no, I couldn't--" 

"Do you know what my mother would do if she knew I just walked on by a little lady like you struggling in the snow?" He argues. 

"I... thank you, that's too kind. But, you probably have somewhere to be." 

"I'm just walking," he assures you. "I like the snow." 

"Oh, right, uh..." you let go of the shovel reluctantly. "Thanks, I... I feel bad." 

"Don't. I feel bad seein' ya shiver your nose off. Go on." 

You scrunch up your mouth guiltily and push your shoulders up. You back away step by step as you stare at him. It's been a while since you met a single person who wasn't demanding or just downright rude. Maybe holiday cheer isn't dead. 

You retreat inside with a sheepish smile and let out a brr as the door swings shut behind you. You rub your hands together then peel of the wet gloves. You tuck them into your pocket and unzip your jacket. You go to the back room and chew your lip. 

You're not the Christmassy type or whatever other special occasions are going on. You hate it all. It's too shiny and loud. Too greedy the way people will argue over something as simple as a three-wick candle or face scrub. 

What family you do have aren't very cozy. You haven't talked to either of your parents in two years and your sister never really answers your texts. It's just you and it isn't so bad. Other people just make things complicated. Without them, you have the control. 

You put your things away and tramp back out to the till. You can see the snow flying through the windows. The man effortlessly throws chunks of it out of his way. Somehow, he looks even bigger from there. 

You feel awkward, especially with no one else around. You go to a shelf to distract yourself, turning the jarred candles label out to appear busy. The bell above the door jingles and you look over your shoulder at the man. He pauses before he enters to shake the shovel off then leans it against the wall. 

He looks around as you retreat from the candle display and watch him. There’s not much for him here. You’re sure he’ll be off soon enough. He rubs his hands together then strips off his mitts. He slips them into his pockets and gives a curious glance over the table of bath bombs and salts. 

“You know,” he brushes his fingers over his beard so some of the melting snow falls away, “I’m looking for a gift.” 

“Oh? Well, we have lots here,” you keep your distance. You’re not sure you believe him. He’s probably just humouring you. “Thanks again for shoveling. You know, you don’t have to stick around. Actually...” you peer through the windows again, “should probably head out sooner than later.” 

“I got time,” he argues. “She’s real pretty. Girl I’m buyin’ for. So she probably wants somethin’ smells pretty too.” 

“Right, uh...” you twist your fist around a finger. You might as well get a single sale. It’s more than you hoped for. “We have some nice seasonal candles. Apple crisp, or candy cane, oh, the fruitcake is kind nice.” 

“You like candles?” He asks. 

“Sometimes. I don’t get the big ones.” 

“Ah,” he comes closer and you make room for him to browse. He picks up a smaller one and sniffs it. It looks tiny in his beefy hand. All of him sticks out among the dainty aesthetic of the boutique. “Mm, caramel brulee.” 

He reads the side and his eyes scan the shelves again, “what else do you like? Think maybe you know best.” 

“Oh, um, I...” you have to stop yourself from saying you don’t shop here. It’s too expensive. You get the discounts on dupes down at the mall. “Bath bombs are popular right now. Especially these snowflake ones. Oh and, we sell hot chocolate bombs. Those are edibles, these ones aren’t.” 

You point to the table as you pass him. He follows. You laugh nervously at your own lame joke. 

“Makes sense. I like hot chocolate. It’s the perfect weather for it, huh?” 

“Yeah, it is,” you agree. 

He comes to stand beside you as you gesture to the merchandise. You’re not used to that. The rare customer is a bit oblivious to physical space but more often they stay around the other side of the table. He’s right there. 

“Face masks too. It could be a little self-care kit if you wanted,” you suggest. 

“Mm, it does sound nice,” he says. “You think it’s a good present?” 

“Well, I get paid to sell this stuff,” you shrug, “but yeah, it’s hot bath season.” 

“Makes sense,” he nods. 

You step back and give him space. He hums and circles the table as you go back to the counter. You check your phone. *Extreme Weather Warning*. You should call Gloria back and let her know. If the county says you should go home, you’ll insist on doing so. 

“Cherry blossom or... vanilla coconut?” The man asks. 

“Hm, vanilla,” you smile at him then quickly look at your phone again. You type out a text to Gloria.  

He surprises you as he approaches and puts down a selection of items. The candle, a few bombs, some face masks, a shampoo bar, one of the little lotion and balm kits, and a spa headband. It’s a lot and it’s all very cute. 

“Think that’s good, don’t you?” He asks. 

“I think so,” you scan each item. “A very special lady indeed.” 

“Sure is,” he taps his fingers on the counter as his eyes bore into you. “I’m Sy, by the way...” he reads your name tag aloud and you’re surprised until you remember you’re wearing it. 

“Sy,” you repeat back. “Need a bag? Sorry, we’re all out of wrap or I’d offer that.” 

“Bag is just fine, think my girl’s easy to please. She appreciates the simple things,” he grins and grips the edge of the counter. 

“Alright,” you unfold a paper bag and gently place the items inside. “I hope likes it all. I’m sure she’ll love it.” 

“Me too,” he takes out his card and swipes. 

The machine dings and the receipt prints. You tear it off and hand it over, sliding the bag across the counter. He takes the slip of paper but leaves the purchase as it is. 

“Um, did I forget something?” You search the countertop, worried something rolled away. 

“It’s for my lady,” he gently nudges the bag back across the counter. 

“What?” You frown, confused. 

“S’for you, sugar. So you can warm up tonight.” 

“Tonight? Sir--” 

“Sy,” he insists, “best get home before the storm gets worse.” He turns to look out the windows. “No one coming out in this. Might as well close down.” 

“Sy, this is very nice of you but I’m fine. My boss wants the store open--” 

“Your boss?” He turns back to you and tilts his head, “ain’t a good one if they aren’t thinking about you gettin’ home safe.” He stares you down and looms over the counter, “’sides, a lady’s only boss is her man. So you go get your coat and things and we’ll be off.” 

“Sy, that’s... that’s not—I'm not your lady--” 

“Not?” He narrows his eyes. “I know you ain’t got another man, you wouldn’t be here if ya did.” 

“I-- no—but--” 

“You come with me or I stay,” he crosses his arms and leans his elbows on the counter. He plumes a snarl out of his nose, “up to you, but you’re not goin’ out in this alone, sweet thing. Need me there to dig ya out, don’t you?” 

You flinch and shake your head, “I don’t-- I don’t know you--” 

“Sure ya do, I’m Sy,” he grins. “And I know you. You’re the most pretty girl I ever seen.” 

You stare at him. He’s as formidable as the heaps of snow building outside the shop. As dangerous as the patches of ice forming on the road. He is a storm in man’s clothes. He’ll bowl you over just as easily as those winds.  

Just like the blizzard blowing in the street, you can’t escape him. 

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

WAIT I LOVE THAT PUSHUP FIC. can you do one with Gaz and the reader daring him to say their name in between push-ups, and Gaz catches on, but does it anyways.

10 / 1,186 words / takes place immediately after doing push-ups with Gaz

...

You watch Gaz from the corner of your eye, listening to him say your name in that low voice with each rep, grunting with concentration. Music to your ears. 

His toned arms are tense with each push-up he executes. Gaz doesn’t work out to be buff or get attention. It’s all about function and utility on the battlefield for him, which means he’s not one for showing off. But you appreciate it, and you can tell he notices it by the smirk curving his lips.

He knows what you're doing. He knows exactly why you made that little request of him.

"You want me to keep going?" he asks. 

"I have no problem with that.”

"Can't imagine you would."

"Hey. Less talking; more counting reps."

"Did I say I was in the market for a personal trainer?"

"I think you did, in fact," you tell him facetiously. You're still sprawled over his back, admiring how your weight barely seems to affect him each time he lowers and then pushes himself back up. "Lucky you have me here to keep you on track."

"Yeah, lucky me." He grunts a laugh and does another pushup. "Because that's my problem. Staying on track."

"I hear a lot of chatter and not enough saying my name between reps, mm?"

"Think I'd better stop doing that. You like it too much."

"And you said you wanted a challenge. Do you cut corners in the field, too? Does Captain Price know?"

He lowers himself again and holds at the bottom for a moment to increase the tension and stress on his muscles. "You're asking for it, you know that?"

You smirk, shifting yourself a little to fit more snugly against the curve of his back. "Are you threatening me, Gaz?"

"You wish." He chuckles, hardly sounding as winded as he should. "You'd be lucky for me to pay you that much attention."

He's not wrong. But still, the nerve.

Luckily, you notice you haven't heard him counting aloud, either. "What rep are you on now?"

He pauses at the bottom of his rep, then lifts up again, not quite as fast as before. "Sixty-three."

"Liar. You lost count, didn't you?"

"Of course not. You think you're really that distracting?"

You grin. "You said it, not me."

He pauses his rep at its apex this time. You glance at him, sensing the gears turning in his head. For a second, you wonder if you should be proud of yourself--if you've struck him speechless with your blistering wit.

Then he bends his elbow and drops one shoulder almost to the floor, dumping you unceremoniously off his back. You land ungracefully on your stomach with a gasp.

There's a strange look in his eye. Thirst for vengeance. You scramble to right yourself, but it's too late. Gaz drags you off the ground like it's nothing and pulls your back to his chest. He wraps his much thicker arm around your bicep and leans back, forcing your arm over your head in what you vaguely recognize as a submission hold.

You huff, trying to squirm free. His other arm comes around across your midsection to keep you in place. The fact that you're pinned in his lap doesn't escape you.

"Now who’s the distracted one?" His voice is right at your ear. "You want to tell me again how many reps I did?"

"Fifty-five. I counted."

His grip tightens. He leans back just a little more, causing your back to arch. "Try again."

You grab his arm with your free hand and try to dislodge it. Its no good. His arms are like steel. He doesn't budge an inch. 

"Told you you were asking for it." His breath is warm on the shell of your ear. "Count again. Or I'll turn this half nelson into a full nelson."

Your cheeks warm. "Perv."

"You started it. Or don't you want me to say your name again?"

"I have a perfectly innocent explanation for that."

"Let's hear it, then. Go on."

"Um." You squirm a little more in his hold. His breath in your ear is making you feel crazy. "It's actually... because..."

"Because?" He's smiling now, his arm tightening against your skin. You can feel every thick muscle in his biceps and forearms. "Because what?"

You struggle to keep some kind of half-baked explanation centered in your mind. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you can't think about his chest pressing flush to your back. Or his thighs squishing your ass. Or his arm around your midsection, so close to your breasts you swear he'd brush the underside if he so much as flexed.

"Because what?" He asks again, and his voice is so husky it makes you forget all your rational thoughts. "Tell me."

"... Sixty-three," you mutter.

He laughs, the rumble of it shaking his chest against your back. "So which one of us lost count, boss?"

"I did."

"Yeah, you did." He shifts, easing the pressure on your arm. He doesn't release it completely, though. "If you wanted to hear my voice so bad, there are better ways to ask, yeah?" His other hand begins to wander down your side. Your skin burns under your workout tank. "But if you want to be a cheeky little brat about it..."

Before you can react, he bites down on your ear. Not cute and flirty, but hard enough that it hurts. Especially when you squawk and try to pull away.

"Ow!" You shove your elbow into his solar plexus.

He lets go of your arm, gasping and wheezing with laughter as he leans back. You're both surprised at how much force you packed into that elbow jab.

He smiles, though. His heart is racing from adrenaline, and when he looks at you, all pouty and out of breath, he realizes it's a good thing he's not still holding you or he might really do something stupid. He likes how quick you are, how feisty.

"That's mean," you snap.

"And calling me a pervert wasn't?"

"No! And even if it was, your thing was worse."

"Oh, yeah?" His usual soft grin turns roguish. "You wanna get even? Bite me back?"

"Gaz!"

"Then you still owe me." He stands up, stretching until his tired arm muscles pop. "So I'd better see you here tomorrow, same time. What do you say?"

You stand slowly, watching him grab his gym bag. "What if I say no?"

"I'd say you're shirking your duties as my trainer. And my counterweight. Besides, you wouldn't skip a chance to have me say your name again." He pulls the straps up over his shoulders and winks at you. "Right, boss?"

You open your mouth and close it right back up again.

Gaz has just enough self-control not to bite his lip at that rather cute expression. "Good."

He walks away, leaving you red-faced and speechless behind him.

He's right. You'll definitely be back tomorrow.

...

part 1 / [part 2] / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

more Gaz / masterlist tag

[yumeboshi]

Happy 100!! I’d love to see the nostalgic starfruit sundae :0

❝ THANK YOU FOR YOUR ORDER、 @cakeboxie .ᐟ ⟡ HERE IS YOUR RECEIPT FROM CAFÉ YUME ⟡．．

𐙚NOSTALGIC STARFRUIT SUNDAE：almost makes you feel younger。

𐙚 dish desc。．when you two were younger, he crushed on you even back then。

．。𝜗𝜚 labels。pure starry sweet fluff finally, a little non canon in aven, teen setting/late teens in aven’s, bittersweet

．。𝜗𝜚 ingredients。sunday and aven

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY

。before becoming what he is right now, he was a sweet and probably shy boy who, during your first meeting, could not utter a single word and unintentionally let Robin do all the talk 。he will feel so foreign, poor him; he has never felt such an influx of emotions. he’d stammer over his words, forgetting everything about what his family taught him about ‘etiquette’ and will always end up looking stupid because he really can’t do anything around you. 。“sunday, are you listening?” “….ah, yes. sorry, I was distracted. um, please continue.” 。i definitely see him stalking you, just like in a cute way. when you’re out doing your own business or hanging out in golden hour, he’d just stare at you from afar- probably from his estate’s window like some deprived owl, completely entranced by you- the way you smile, the way you laugh at someone’s jokes- the way your hair ripples with the wind like soothing waves— was he daydreaming again? 。it gets so bad. he’s obsessed, daydreaming, even robin knows her brother’s head is in the clouds. the dreammaster hereby then prohibited him from seeing you, because you were getting in his plans to educate him since all he’d ever talk about was you. you were his new priority- he doesn’t even care about the order anymore; making the dreammaster grumble about when he’d raised such a lovesick boy. 。but gopher wood did not foresee that the young boy would do anything daring at all, like rebuking his orders.

STARLIGHT is near and you’re already hiding under the Oak Family’s residential area where you’re probably not supposed to be inside one of the back garden’s bushes, patiently waiting for your romeo to come.

How could you refuse? He was the loveliest, the sweetest and the most handsome boy you ever met, albeit not meeting a lot of kids your age. His wings too, were so fluffy and so cozy to lean into. Your little heart could comprehend these foreign feelings as a crush.

And there he was- your young prince, quickly stepping out of the window that’s barely open, tipping to the floor like a dove that’s free from its cage. Every step he takes is already elegant and authoritative, it reminds you that you are not his class, and you should not be here.

When your face peeks out of the bushes, his expression immediately lights up as if someone had brought all the stars from the sky to his face, he immediately runs to you and laughs breathlessly. “You’re here.”

”Shhh!” You frown and put your small hand to his mouth. He looks around at that- his wings tickling your nose, and he shrugs- “—I don’t see anyone nearby.”

“But the scary old man might be—“ you break off, and your heart skips a beat when you hear footsteps. Without thinking, you quickly hug sunday and pull him into the bush out of terror.

A second has passed. Two; or three, maybe. You lose track of time because of his loud heartbeat thudding against your own. You were not sure if it was out of fright or out of this complex feeling neither one of you were knowledged in.

You snap out of it quickly, because it made your head spin as if a swarm of butterflies were invading it. The dreammaster was gone, but neither one of you were moving an inch.

It feels time has stopped. Maybe you are wishing it did, because you know all too well that this would become a fleeting memory.

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE

。one day, after facing a similar massacre in your own planet, you are thrown into captive under a shady man. 。you are not alone, but you are more annoyed by the fact that your cellmate is an avgin. you are pretty sure your parents had told you countless stories about their wicked ways. 。kakavasha, on the other hand, is enamored by you. the way you snap back at your captor, the way you are defiant- even in such stakes. it enchanted him. it even inspired him. 。when he’s still a little kid, he’d follow you around like a little puppy despite your annoyance. 。but when you grow a little older- maybe around your teens, he hits his growth spurt, and he grows almost unrecognizable- yes, those tantalizingly beautiful eyes of his stay the same; but he just becomes so.. manly. masculine, almost mature- it’s hard to believe the quiet and puppy-like boy grew up to be such a fair.. man. 。but one thing that did not change a bit with him was the way his usually bored and dead stare would light up when he sees you. he teases you a lot, he likes to practice his tricks on you, simply because it’s endearing how you snarl in frustration at his antics. 。you are his personal pair of sky blue shades. you changed the way he saw the world forever- looking at you, he could think that the world might not be that cruel, if it doesn’t take you away.

ALTHOUGH his long awaited freedom has arrived- to the hands of an unknown woman who calls herself jade, he felt as if his world was crumbling again, all too familiar to what he felt when he was younger.

What about you? You have no clue about his release. He’d sworn to you he’d stay with you forever whether you liked it or not- he still remembers how you snorted and dismissed it with a light blush across your cheeks, scoffing that all the avgins were liars anyway- he’d laughed and told you he wouldn’t ever lie to you, ever, which earned him a glare and an embarrassed slap.

He tried to deny it. He wanted to say no. He couldn’t leave you here, no. you were his wild card, the one chip he would never, ever gamble on; because he cherished you over himself. you are the one thing he’d never risk— his only love, you have his whole world, you’re like a diamond key to his closed and broken heart.

But life was truly cruel, because he knew right now that it was his last chance to break free from the burdens of his past. His heartache will perhaps be soothed a little, after leaving those memories behind. But it means he will have to leave you behind as well.

Although his heart screamed no, that he was your one and only and he had to stay with you, his rationality whispered a different tale- echoing the woman’s promises of freedom.

And here he was, selfishly walking to the cell that held all of himself. You were there, barely awake, looking up at the sky that is too beautiful for the words he is about to say to you.

He takes in your ethereal figure underneath the twilight, your eyes are the cosmos itself, reflecting the moon inside them. He always took pride in his eyes, but nothing could be more beautiful than yours. he’d fallen in love with them the first time you two met. they are almost deceptively exquisite enough to make someone like him lose his rationale.

He is about to say something but your finger presses against his lips- you don’t turn to look at him; your eyes are fixed somewhere afar. “I know,” you say quietly.

So you knew? He hid his surprise. He had thought he did a good job acting it up. He shakes his head with a laugh- of course. This was you. You knew his every expression, the faintest of creases on his face, you could see right through him.

“Then I suppose I don’t have to entertain you with any cheesy goodbyes. Do you wish to say any more words?” He asks with his playful smile, albeit he knows you know he’s trying his best not to break down.

You hesitate, and then hold his hand gently. “Take care, kakavasha.”

At that, he could not take it anymore. He leans forward to kiss you, for the last time, and he tastes like memories. He tastes like your annoyance, your laughs, your cries, you feel like you are experiencing your childhood all over again like a broken record. Something bitter graces your mouth and you realize it is his tears.

“Always trying to act tough, just don’t do that in the outside world.” You laugh into the kiss, and you feel him smile against your lips. He tilts his head away, glancing somewhere else to mask how vulnerable he is- but you stop him, you look into his eyes that are far too distinct- they are seas of magenta, wavering each time he blinks to conceal any tears.

As his lips part from yours, he feels himself slowly dissipate. Kakavasha was no more.

[arminsumi]

WHO IS SHE?

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

A Kyoto student gives the Six Eyes a run for his money during the tournament. Are they really fighting or just flirting?

M.LIST

1.2k

Summary : during the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event, a student Gojo encounters someone who can match his strength. It's not humbling. It hurts his pride. But neither of you can deny the tension between you two. You and him are just flirting back and forth like crazy, forming a lustful rivalry.

Warnings : 🔞 minors do not read/interact : mature/18+ content, not proofread, blood, innuendos / suggestive jokes (use of daddy, kitten), sexual/romantic tension, rivalry, making a sexual bet (bj if gojo wins 🫡), cliffhanger ending ig

Note : ayo... AYOOOOOOO!!! i found this idea in the drafts from 3 months ago and wrote smth for it... LET ME KNOW IF U WANT MORE??? bc there's more content for it... hehe 🤭💗 it's got that rivals that wanna fuck type beat ig

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works

There's crimson blood dribbling out his nose, and he wipes it away in amazement.

What the hell just hit me?

"Heyyy Six Eyes~!" you smile, split-sitting on a branch.

Gojo Satoru rears his head up at you and squints from the sun. He makes out your figure, hears your voice, and feels this sense of mortality. It gives him a rush.

Fuck. Who is she...? That Kyoto student?

"Oh. Hey Kyoto Princess." He returns condescendingly. He sinks his hands in his pockets to look at ease, though he's anything but in your presence right now. You really shook him up there.

"The blood looks hot on you." you flirt and cause his heartbeat to accelerate.

"Uh-huh... you gonna stay up there like a scaredy cat or you gonna come down here and show me those claws again, kitten?"

He's trying so hard to scramble up those words. He's trying so hard to seem intimidating. To stand his ground against you. He's trying so very, very hard. He's straining himself. Neck tendons pronouncing with his hard swallow. Sweat beading off his forehead.

Damn the summer sun. It makes the tournament so much harder. Though admittedly, he'd be startled by your technique during any season.

You lean down and make a feline movement that makes something click in the horny region of his brain.

"Nah, I like the view from up here... why don't you climb up 'n come give me kitty cuddles?" you say.

Ooh. That voice is chilling. I like it.

"No fucking way." he laughs incredulously. "You can come."

"Oh is daddy giving his kitten permission to cum?" you play.

His eyes go wide. "What the fu—"

There's a rush of wind, your friend interrupts the awkward flirting and comes to your side and asks you what the situation is.

"Why the hold up? You said you'd come 'round again, I was waiting for you. That bangs guy is kind of a menace... 'coulda used your help."

"Sorry..." you smile and maintain this electric eye contact with Gojo. "I got a bit infatuated with Mister Six Eyes over there. He's quite the cutie pie."

Gojo's heart flutters... and he hates it. He feels boyish because of you. Like he's just some dumb teenager with a crush on the hot girl who gave him a nosebleed. Literally, in this case.

"Uh... okay...? Sheesh. Were you trying to fight him or cause deforestation?" your friend grimaces at the splintered and split trees. "Um... anyways... can we go, or are you two still busy flirting?"

"I'm coming, alright." you wink at Gojo.

"What the fu— SUGURU."

Oh, such good timing. Bangs guy appears.

"What's the hold up?" Suguru asks.

Your friend chimes, "That's what I was asking! These two are fucking flirting!"

"Haha, what? Oh Satoru... why is your nose all bloody?" Suguru asks nonchalantly.

"A cat scratched me."

"...? What? What happened?"

"She happened." Gojo glares at you.

You wave at him. He wishes he could bite you, but he's not ready just yet to approach you.

Suguru looks at his friend, then at you, then at the damaged trees, and his features grow both impressed and confused.

"You're telling me... a tiny thing like her did all this?"

Gojo shrugs funnily, "Yeah, she's pretty romantic, isn't she?"

You wink at him. He feels a pang in his chest and furrows his brows.

"Okay. Yeah. Sam, I see what you mean about them flirting."

"Right?"

You giggle. Gojo groans.

There's an auditory announcement echoing through the forest.

Today's event is ending, please return to the starting point.

"Aw, playtime is over. See you next time, Six Eyes."

"Keep callin' me Six eyes, princess, I fucking dare you." Gojo seethes.

All four of you trek back to the starting point. Gojo is stealing hot glances of you, looking grumpy but feeling his pants tighten. You're sweating from the heat. So is he.

I can make you weak for me. Just you wait.

"Satoru, tell me all about it. I want the details." Suguru leans close and asks in a hushed tone. You're busy talking to your friend, outright humiliating poor Mister Six Eyes to her.

"She's too damn fast." he grumbles, rubbing his neck to get the tension out. You really gave his poor body a beating back there. "Like a flicker in my vision... uh, but the main reason she was a challenge was because of all that flirting, of course."

"Oh, yeah right..." Suguru rolls his eyes, then leans even closer, "Was she really flirting with you?"

"Yeah..."

"Lucky."

"What the hell, Suguru." Gojo laughs.

"You should make a move. I'm sure she's got a thing for you. She keeps looking over." Suguru encourages.

"Are you high? She really fucked me up back there. Anyways... I think her flirting was condescending. That's why I flirted condescendingly back. Shit what if she was actually flirtin' with me..."

Satoru and Suguru look at you. And you look back. Your friend is snickering and it bothers Satoru.

But nothing bothers him more than that smug face of yours. He marches right up to you in the corridors later, when it's just you and him.

He pins you right against the wall and you giggle, letting him show off his strength and height.

His breath tickles your face, his eyes threaten to burn your soul.

"Next time, I'll win." he seethes in a deep voice. He notes how you squeeze your thighs together.

"Wanna bet?" you smile seductively.

"Sure. If I win, you have to tell all your cute little friends about how Mister Six Eyes is stronger than you." he says.

"Okay. Whatever. If I win..."

He listens intently.

"... I get to suck your dick."

He blushes. Stutters. Brain freezes. Malfunctions.

Wow. What. Huh?

"Haha, you're cute. Have you never received head before?" you ask forwardly.

His conscious skips beats, words tumble out.

"I — uh... y-yeah of course I have!" he lies.

"Sure you have, big boy." you bring your lips closer and he dissolves. He's so fucked. He's so turned on by you it's actually pissing him off.

He doesn't move away, just lets you graze your lips over his own. You make him shudder. Make his cock start to strain against his tight uniform pants.

"So... are we taking this bet then?"

"Y-yeah... yes. Um. Yes. Absolutely. Please."

"Haha... okay then. See you tomorrow... Satoru~"

Wow. You just broke him there. He doesn't move or speak, just stands motionlessly blinking at the wall as you slip away out of his pinning grip.

He thinks to himself;

Nah. I don't think I care about winning anymore. Screw pride.

But then comes the next morning and... he swells with pride.

Nah. Screw her. I don't need to feel her lips wrapping around my dick.

"Hey, Six Eyes." you greet him at the tournament grounds, flirting so unashamedly that you earn a very disapproving looks from the teachers.

"Hey, Kyoto Princess." he greets back, "flirting" too. His stomach flips when you lick your lips suggestively, as a callback to the bet you made with him.

"Wish ya luck." you tell him.

"I don't need it." he retaliates.

Suguru and your friend just distantly watch, snickering, at the sexual tension between you and Gojo Satoru;

Your natural rival. When he was born, so were you, meant to exist as the only thing that could weaken the Six Eyes.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.