#not that i want to ignore it i more mean it feels like it h

[kirammanswifey]

helloo!! can you please write about ‘arcane characters when you get in an argument’? i absolutely love ur writing btw!! 🫶🏻

arguments with arcane characters x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i love when you guys request this kind of interesting dynamics, it's so fun to write about it! also my favorite this time was sevika's, I meannn it was kinda hot and spicy. requests are open ;)

Viktor

The sound of the keys under his hands seems to fill the air, but what resonates most is the silence between the two of you. The room is steeped in an unsettling calm, while he keeps working as if nothing else exists. It’s been days since he last rested, and you know it. His skin is paler than usual, his eyes glassy, as if all the world's exhaustion is about to devour him. The scent of machine oil and metal permeates the room, but what hurts you most is the fragility of his being, the one he insists on ignoring.

Slowly, frustration begins to simmer within you. You love him more than anything in the world, but watching him so neglected, so absorbed in his work that he doesn’t even stop to eat, burns you.

You approach him, and suddenly, you can't take it anymore. Your tone isn't raised, but the fury is felt in every word. "Viktor, stop," you murmur, almost pleading. "You’re killing yourself. You haven’t eaten in days, not even slept. Do you know what you're doing? You're letting yourself go. Your body is crying out for help, and you're ignoring it."

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t react. He keeps working as if your words don't reach him. Frustrated, you step closer. "You can't keep going like this, Viktor! What are you expecting? For someone to come and save you from yourself? This isn't just about your work, it’s about you!"

Finally, he looks up, but his eyes don’t seem to truly see you. Only a shadow of exhaustion. "I do it for them... for the people. The work... my research, it’s all that matters now."

"And you? Don’t you matter?" The anger mixes with something much deeper. Something that has to do with fear. "Your lack of self-love is so evident, Viktor, even I can see it. You're losing yourself in this obsession."

The words come out harsher than you intended. But seeing the flash of pain in his eyes, you realize what you've just said. A lump forms in your throat.

You fall silent, feeling the air grow thick. Guilt quickly invades you, and before you can think, you kneel in front of him. "Forgive me," you whisper, the anger already dissipated, replaced by sincere pain. "I didn't mean to be so harsh. It’s just... I don't want to see you like this, so lost. I don’t want you to hurt yourself because you are what I love most, Viktor."

Your hands tremble as you take his face in yours. "Please, take care of yourself. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to see you like this anymore, fighting alone against everything. Because, to me, you are everything."

Viktor says nothing at first. He just watches you, the conflict in his gaze. Then, as if releasing a sigh he had been holding for too long, he responds softly, "I’ll try... I promise I’ll try."

You look at him with a mix of relief and sadness. Finally, you stand up and take his hand firmly. "Now come with me. I’m going to make your favorite dinner. You need it."

The change in his expression is almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Something in his face softens, and for the first time in a long while, he gives you a faint smile. "You know, that sounds wonderful," he says with a tone that mixes surprise and gratitude.

As you prepare dinner, the atmosphere changes. The tension slowly dissolves, but there’s something else in the air, a silent understanding between you two. After dinner, you look at him with a mischievous smile.

"Viktor," you say, your voice full of complicity. "How many days have you gone without bathing? Because, honestly, I think it’s time you do."

He visibly shifts in discomfort, his face taking on a pink hue. "Honestly... I don’t know," he replies, as if trying to evade the question, looking down. "The truth is, I haven’t had time to think about those things."

Your laugh is soft but teasing. "I think you’ve forgotten a bit about yourself. So, what do you think if after dinner, we take a bath together?"

Viktor blushes even more, but before he can say anything, he has already conceded, and with an exaggerated formality only he can pull off, he responds, "Well... that... that would be very pleasant. If you don’t mind, of course."

The tension from before has transformed into something softer, lighter. You, amused by his so formal response, take his hand and lead him to the bathroom, feeling that, in that moment, all that really matters is that he’s finally willing to take care of himself.

Jinx

The sound of the spark igniting the fuse fills the room. Jinx has a playful smile on her face, but something isn't right. The bomb is making strange noises, as if it's about to fail. The sparkle in her eyes fades for a second, but it's accompanied by a nervous chuckle.

"What's wrong, Jinx?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. The moment feels out of place, and for a moment, you sense that something is very wrong, very out of control. "That... doesn't sound right."

But she just stands there, watching the bomb intently. She doesn't move. The air grows heavy, and suddenly, the bomb makes a terrifying click.

Your eyes widen as you see the timer on the bomb speeding up. A chill grips you, and in an instant, you act on instinct. You leap toward the table, your breath quickening, and deactivate the bomb just before it fully triggers. The explosion is seconds away from ringing in your ears, but you manage to stop it.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you quickly turn to face Jinx. She’s still there, motionless, her eyes fixed on the deactivated bomb, as if hypnotized. She doesn't look scared or relieved, just... empty.

"Why didn't you do anything?" you confront her, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief. "Why did you just stand there? You could have died, Jinx! We could have both died!"

Jinx stares at the floor, her demeanor shifting in a second. The mockery dissolves, the mask falls, and in its place appears the scared girl she so often hides. "I... just wanted to see what would happen." Her response is soft, trembling, as if she doesn't know how to process what just happened.

Those few seconds of silence feel eternal. The air around you grows heavy, as if the whole world is waiting for something else to explode. And it does. You can't take it anymore. Fury takes over, and you lash out at her.

"What did you want to see, Jinx?" Your voice is harsh, filled with frustration. "Did you want to see us both die because of your stupid curiosity? Is that what you wanted?"

Jinx shrinks, her expression transforming into something so fragile it burns your heart. Her face is filled with regret, but her eyes can't meet yours. Tears begin to well up in her eyes, but she keeps staring at the floor, feeling small and scolded.

"I didn't mean to... I swear..." she murmurs, almost in a whisper, her words choked by the pain of having gone too far.

Your rage starts to dissipate, replaced by something deeper. An irrational fear, the anguish of watching Jinx destroy herself. You walk toward her, kneel to her level, and gently take her chin, lifting it so she looks at you.

What you see stops you cold. Jinx's nails are deeply embedded in her palms, red marks that have hurt her, as if she wants to punish herself for something. You stare at her intently, the pain reflected in her eyes and her gesture.

Quickly, you take her hands, without saying a word, and kiss them softly, your lips touching the small wounds on her skin. The blood from her hands stains your lips, but you don't care. "You know I hate seeing you destroy yourself," you murmur, your voice broken by the fear you still feel. "Please, Sweets, don't do this to yourself. Don't do this to us."

You stay still, waiting for her reaction. Finally, the door that had closed in her heart opens, and Jinx lets out a deep sob. Tears fall down her face, like an unexpected rain, and her body trembles.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." Jinx sobs, clutching you tightly. There are no more laughs, no more jokes. Just pure pain. And you hold her with equal intensity, rocking her in your arms, trying to soothe her, to erase the suffering she always carries inside.

"Pain isn't the solution," you whisper, stroking her braided hair, trying to convey all the love you feel for her. "I'll always be here for you, Sweets. You don't have to carry all this alone."

She remains silent for a moment, her sobs calming, but her embrace is still desperate. Finally, after a few seconds, her eyes lift, and with a small smile, she says:

"So... want to make bombs, but in a fun way? With less blood this time!"

The laughter that follows fills the room, and even though you know the battle isn't won, this small step in her recovery gives you renewed hope. Taking her hand, you lead her back to the table with the tools, ready for another night filled with madness... but this time, with a little more care.

Vi

The air in the Undercity feels heavy tonight, a cold that seems to seep into your bones. The sound of metal echoing through the structures, the distant murmurs of shouts and laughter, mix with the echo of your footsteps on the iron bridge that crosses the dark, grimy avenue. You walk in silence, but the tension in the air is palpable.

Suddenly, a drunk, staggering with a vacant stare, approaches you. The stench of alcohol wafts from his breath, and his eyes settle on you in a not-so-friendly way. His rough, hollow laughter resonates in the air, as if nothing he was about to do mattered.

Before you can react, his hands touch your backside without warning, sending a wave of revulsion through you and a shiver down your spine.

A choked scream escapes you, but before you can push him away, you feel Vi’s furious gaze, like a storm about to break loose. The anger on her face is palpable, and not a second later, the drunk is on the ground, receiving blows that thunder like hammers. His face is soon covered in blood, and the sound of fists pounding against his body leaves a disturbing feeling in the air.

Vi doesn’t stop; each punch is more brutal than the last. People in the distance quickly disperse, leaving only the echo of the hits. Your heart races, worry consumes you as you watch Vi unleash her uncontrollable fury.

"Vi, stop!" You lunge toward her, but in the process, one of her fury-fueled punches lands directly on your lip. The immediate pain stuns you, and when you touch your face, your hand is filled with blood. The split lip burns. Vi stops abruptly, looking at her bloodstained knuckles—her own, the drunk’s, and now yours.

She stands frozen, her face, once filled with rage, now shows a look of horror. “Oh, God…” she murmurs, seeing what she has done.

You tremble, not just from the pain in your lip but from the brutality of her actions. You’re not used to violence, not on this magnitude. Fear knots in your chest, and you let out a shaky sigh as you watch Vi, her face now wrecked with guilt.

"I didn’t mean to!" Her voice is broken, as if the guilt is overwhelming her.

“Let’s go home,” you respond coldly, more out of fear than anger, "and when we get there, we’ll talk."

The walk home is silent, the tension hanging between you like a taut string about to snap. When you arrive, you enter the kitchen and quickly tend to your lip, while Vi watches silently, unable to articulate a word.

Once you finish, you turn to her. The air is thick with the weight of what’s unsaid. “Vi…” you begin, your voice soft but firm. “You need to learn to control your anger. This time, you just didn’t hurt someone else. This time, it was me too. Me, the person you love the most. Do you realize that? Do you realize how I felt when your blows landed on me?”

Her eyes fill with tears, and her throat tightens as if she wants to say something, but the words are stuck in her chest. “I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking.

You continue, your words coming out with more pain than you expected. “Sometimes… I’m afraid of you, Vi. Not because of what you might do to others, but because of what you might do to me. I don’t want to live in fear of your rage hurting me. It hurts so much. It hurt so much.”

Vi collapses in front of you, breaking down. Her tears fall one after another, and she throws herself into your arms, holding you in a desperate embrace. “I don’t know why I’m like this… I don’t know how… how to control it. I always have this rage inside, and sometimes I don’t know how to stop it. When it explodes, everything goes to hell, I know…” Her voice cracks as she clings to you. "I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to hurt you."

The softness in her tone hits you harder than any punch, and in that moment, you know she understands. "Vi, I… I don’t want you to hurt anymore," you murmur, caressing her back. "I don’t want that rage to control you."

She pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes, her face soaked in tears. “I’m so sorry. I swear it wasn’t my intention… but sometimes…” her words trail off in a sigh.

A small, sad smile forms on your face. “Have you thought about boxing? Maybe it’ll help you release all that. And I’ll go with you! But promise me you won’t use me as a punching bag, okay?" you joke with a smile, trying to lighten the moment.

Vi finally laughs, a laugh that feels like relief. “I promise. Just, please, don’t leave me, okay?”

You approach her, tenderly kissing her, careful to avoid the wound on your lip, and you feel the softness of her lips, the calm that finally settles between you. “I would never leave you, babe,” you whisper as you both embrace, knowing that, even though everything is complicated and painful, there is something between you that always keeps you together.

Caitlyn

The door bursts open, and Caitlyn enters the room with a face marked by a fury that seems to burn inside her. Your eyes lift from where you're sitting, a little surprised by her abrupt entrance, but you quickly see what has been happening.

"I can't believe what I had to hear today," Caitlyn throws out, her voice cold and cutting as she drops her jacket on a chair. "All because of your... damn ideas of justice. Do you have any idea what that means in this place?"

You stand up slowly, the tone of her voice making the air grow denser, heavier. "What happened, Cait?" you ask, though part of you already knows it has something to do with her ideals.

"It's not just what happened, it's what's happening. All the damn time," she responds, walking toward you with contained rage. "You go on and on about doing what's right, without understanding that ‘right’ isn’t always what people in high places think. You think you can change something, but all you're doing is making it worse."

Your heart races, and a spark of frustration rises in your chest. "Make it worse?" you repeat, feeling indignation begin to spill out of you. "Is that what you think? That my actions aren't worth it? You're so blinded by your perfect view of the world that you can't see what's really going on in the streets! Evil isn't just in the ‘high society,’ Caitlyn. It's everywhere."

Caitlyn looks at you with an intensity that almost seems defiant, but also wounded. "I'm not blind, the problem is that I can't understand why you keep going against the whole system. Every time you do, you just feed more chaos. You have to think about the consequences, about the people who can't afford those ideals you're defending like you're some fairy-tale hero. Not everyone can afford that luxury."

"A luxury?" Your voice rises slightly, now stronger. "What you call 'luxury' should be a right. Do you really not understand that people are suffering? That your 'system' is letting all of this crumble just to maintain power? I can't just stand by because you think it's fine because it looks neat from your tower."

Caitlyn steps back, as if your words hit some deep place inside her. "Not everything is as simple as ‘good’ and ‘evil.’ Sometimes things aren’t black or white. Sometimes you have to make concessions to move forward. What you’re doing is just putting yourself in the center, without understanding that there’s more at stake."

The words hang in the air between you two, and the intensity of the argument seems to rise with every exchange. Caitlyn is so convinced of her point of view that you can't help but feel frustrated by the barrier between you.

"What I understand, Caitlyn," you finally say, with a tense calm, "is that sometimes you do more harm by trying to follow the rules than by breaking them. And I know your intentions are good, but I can't stay silent watching you justify the unjustifiable."

Caitlyn closes her eyes for a moment, as if taking a breath to calm herself. When she opens them again, something has changed. It’s not that her anger has disappeared, but she seems more exhausted, as if all this is wearing her down. "I’m not asking you to agree with me. I'm just asking you to understand that sometimes, even if it hurts, decisions aren’t as easy as you see them."

There's a long silence between you, the air thick with discomfort and tension. You both know you're not going to come to an agreement this time, but you also know that won't change what lies between you.

Finally, Caitlyn sighs and sits on the edge of the table, letting the exhaustion take over her. "Sometimes I feel like I can't do anything right, no matter what I try," she murmurs, more to herself than to you. "And you... you make me see everything that's wrong with me."

You move a little closer, calmer but still hurt. "Cait, that's not what I want. What I want is for you to realize you don’t have to carry all of this on your own. You don’t have to keep walking down this path if it doesn't make you happy. I’m here for you, even when we don’t agree."

Caitlyn looks at you, her eyes reflecting some vulnerability, something she doesn't usually show. "I know. I just… I’m scared that I could lose everything I’ve built because... because I don't know when to stop."

You sit next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You’re not going to lose it, Cait. No matter how much we fight, what matters is that we’re in this together. But you also have to learn to take care of yourself, not just the world."

Caitlyn nods slowly, and for the first time in a long while, a small smile appears on her face, though it’s sad. "I guess sometimes I forget that."

The tension begins to dissipate, although the brush of differences is still there. Deep down, you both know that these kinds of discussions won’t end anytime soon, but you also know that you're both moving forward for something bigger than the disagreement.

Jayce

There was something heavy in the air that night. An uncomfortable silence that hadn't been able to break for the past few days. Despite being in the same house, in the same room, you felt farther away from Jayce than ever. It wasn't just the lack of physical contact, it wasn't just the absence of the small gestures that usually made everything work between you. It was something deeper, something that had been growing inside you without him realizing it.

Finally, you couldn’t hold it any longer. You sat on the bed, staring into the emptiness in front of you, and when he walked in, that feeling of discouragement completely overwhelmed you. Without looking at him, you started.

“Jayce, I don’t know what to think anymore,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “It’s been days since… since we’ve had anything. And I’m not just talking about sex, I’m talking about everything. I don’t even feel like you desire me anymore.”

Jayce, who had been in his own world as usual, looked up at you, confused by your words. “What are you saying, honey?” Surprise was evident in his voice, but it wasn’t enough to calm the torrent that had been unleashed inside you.

“You don’t get it, do you?” You stood up from the bed, walking towards him, words pouring out like a torrent. “Every day, I feel like I’m just here, fitting into your perfect life. Everything we do, everything we plan, it feels like you’re doing it because you have to. What about what I want, Jayce? What about us?”

Jayce took a step towards you, opening his arms as if he wanted to get closer, but something in your gaze made him stop. “No… I don’t understand. What do you mean by fitting into my perfect life?”

Your breathing quickened. “What I mean is that sometimes, I feel like I’m just an accessory, another piece in the puzzle you’ve been putting together. Like what matters most to you is making everything look right, fitting, but not us. I don’t feel desired, Jayce. I feel empty, like I don’t matter, like I’m just here because I fit into your life, not because you actually want to be with me.”

The pain in your voice was palpable, and although Jayce tried to step closer, you moved away from him. “I’m so tired of feeling like we’re nothing more than two people sharing a space. There’s no passion, no connection… Just the idea of what’s expected of us.”

Jayce looked completely lost, like he never imagined you felt this way. “I can’t believe you’re saying this. You know how important you are to me. But I… I’ve been so focused on work, on everything we need to achieve, that…”

“That what?” you interrupted, unable to keep bearing what felt like a pile of excuses. “That you’re too busy to see what’s right in front of you? I have my own problems too, Jayce. Not everything revolves around your projects, your perfect image. I’m a person too, and my feelings matter too.”

The words hung in the air, between rage and pain. Jayce didn’t say anything, and that only increased the feeling of abandonment you were experiencing. Frustration and sadness took over you more and more. Finally, the silence was broken, but not in the way you expected.

“Honey…” Jayce started, his voice softer now, but still full of confusion. “I didn’t want to make you feel this way. I didn’t realize I was leaving you out. I didn’t want you to feel… unwanted.”

Your eyes filled with tears, the emotional pressure of being unheard for so long finally bursting. “I don’t want to be just another option in your life. I want to be loved, I want to feel desired, I want you to look at me like you’re afraid of losing me. And I don’t feel that from you. I feel like everything we do is a routine, just fulfilling what’s supposed to be.”

Jayce slowly approached, now understanding the gravity of your words. “I… I don’t know how I didn’t see all this. I’m sorry, honey. I really am. I don’t want to lose you. I’ve been so focused on everything else that… I’ve failed you.”

A heavy silence fell between you. You didn’t know what to think, just felt a knot in your stomach, but when Jayce took a step towards you, taking your hands, you couldn’t help but look him in the eyes, searching for some sign that he truly understood how you felt.

“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered, his tone full of sincerity. “I promise I’ll change, I won’t take you for granted. You’re the most important thing to me, and if I made you feel like you weren’t, it hurts me deeply.”

You looked at him intently, seeing in his eyes the truth of his regret. “I know… but I need you to act instead of just saying it.”

Jayce nodded, a glimpse of a smile appearing on his face as his hands caressed yours. “I will. From now on, you and I… we’re a priority.”

Your heart lightened hearing those words, and when he hugged you, you held him tightly, knowing that the road to healing that disconnection wouldn’t be easy, but at least, finally, there was a beginning. And that promise to rebuild what had been lost was all you needed to start healing.

Ekko

That afternoon, it felt like the tension between you and Ekko was thicker than ever. You had been working together on a project, and the small jokes and dismissive attitudes from Ekko, which you usually let slide, began to affect you more than you expected.

"Wow, did you really think that was a good idea?" Ekko said, his biting tone making the sarcasm leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

Your breath became heavier, and although you tried to ignore it, something inside you snapped. You looked at him, furious, and without thinking twice, dropped the tool you had in your hands. "You know what? I'm leaving."

Ekko looked at you, somewhat surprised by your reaction, but before you could walk away any further, he let out a light laugh, as if nothing was happening. "What's up, got your period or something?"

That was the breaking point.

You stopped in your tracks, feeling a lump form in your throat. You turned to him with eyes shining with frustration. "You know what, Ekko? It's because of you. Because sometimes you don't seem to think about what you say, and you don't care how I feel."

Ekko furrowed his brow, trying to understand what you were saying, but before he could speak, you continued venting.

"You make me feel like my problems don't matter, like everything I do isn't up to your standards. Always so... so carefree, like you never have to think about how your words affect me. Have you ever thought about that?" Rage and pain built up in your voice as you spoke, but the words kept pouring out like an avalanche.

And then, without warning, what you hadn’t been able to say before came flooding out. "You know what's the worst? That I feel insecure, Ekko. I feel like I'm not good enough for you, like I'm not smart enough, not attractive enough... Because you never show jealousy, you never show anything. Like you never care. And that makes me doubt myself."

Ekko went silent, looking at your face in surprise, an expression that showed he finally understood what you had just said. The mockery from his previous joke faded, and his face shifted from confusion to deep seriousness.

"I... I didn't know you felt that way," he said finally, his words soft and filled with guilt. "I never meant to make you feel that way. I'm sorry, really. I'm not good at showing what I feel, I've never been."

He slowly approached you, not trying to interrupt the flow of your emotions. "You know, I grew up in a world where showing emotions was seen as weakness. Life never gave me time to process them. Since I was a kid, I was always at war, always on the move, always worried about surviving. But I never wanted that to affect you."

Your eyes softened a little as you listened to his words, and for a moment, the weight of frustration lifted slightly. "I... I didn't want you to think I cared less. It's just that sometimes, I get so caught up in my own stuff that I forget that the people close to me also have feelings. And I don't want you to feel belittled, I don't want you to feel like you're not enough."

There was a tense silence between you both, but something in his tone softened the atmosphere. "I'm sorry, really. It was never my intention to hurt you. You're incredible just as you are, and you make me feel like I can be more, like I can improve."

For a moment, everything seemed to calm down, but Ekko, with a mischievous smile, added, "And if it helps, yeah, I do worry a little when others look at you. But I'm not so good at showing jealousy."

You couldn't help but smile a little, even though you still felt the open wounds. Ekko, seeing this, moved a bit closer and gave you a gentle hug, as if it were a small gesture of comfort you so needed.

"I really care about you. I don't want you to feel insecure. I don't care if you're smarter or not, because what really matters to me is that you're you."

And before you could respond, Ekko joked with his usual playful attitude. "Although, if I ever catch you with someone else, you'd better be ready, because I’m not going to sit still."

You laughed despite everything, feeling the tension slowly disappearing, as if everything you had kept inside had finally found a way out.

"I love you too," you replied, as you hugged him again, knowing that, although the path wouldn’t always be easy, at least you both understood each other a little more.

Silco

Silco's office was shrouded in shadows, barely illuminated by the dim glow of a lamp on his desk. The phone conversation he was having was filled with frustration. "No, that won't work. We need something more decisive, something more substantial," he growled before hanging up with a sharp click that echoed through the wood.

From your position at the door, you could hear every word, feeling the tension in the air. You couldn’t help but intervene. "Maybe you could try..." you began, suggesting a plan you had come up with after hearing his problem.

Silco looked up at you, his cold, calculating eyes locking onto yours. "Shut up. You don't know anything about this," he snapped with disdain, his words cutting through you like a knife.

The coldness in his voice felt like a blow to the chest. Without saying another word, you turned around and stormed out of the office, slamming the door with a force that resonated down the hallway. Frustration burned in your chest as you climbed the stairs to your room.

Surprised by your reaction, Silco followed. Reaching the closed door, he knocked forcefully. "Open the door immediately!" he shouted, his tone a mix of anger and confusion.

"I won't! Go away!" you replied from inside, your voice trembling with both rage and pain. A sound from inside made his heart race. Fearing the worst, he broke down the door without thinking twice.

Inside, he found you packing your things with trembling hands. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, his eyes fixed on you, trying to understand the magnitude of your decision.

"I'm done, Silco. Done with you not seeing me as someone capable of helping you, done with you constantly underestimating me," you declared, your voice trembling but resolute. "I’m a human being, just like you, and I can handle matters and plans. I’m not just a decoration in your world."

Silco scoffed, crossing his arms in impatience. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Do you want me to buy you something? You look hysterical."

That was the breaking point. You turned to face him, your eyes fiery and filled with tears. "Silco, remember where you found me. I was a worker in that horrible brothel, sold by my parents at eleven. I thought that by freeing myself, I would have a voice, that finally someone would see me as an equal. But it’s not like that. You don’t even listen to me."

Silco looked at you, his eyes softening as the weight of your words sank in. He approached you cautiously, his fingers touching your cheek with an unusual tenderness. "It's not personal," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret. "I’ve always been like this, I prefer to work alone. I’ve been through so much to earn respect in the Undercity that sometimes I minimize the opinions of others. But I never meant for you to feel this way, not you."

The wall of pain you had built began to crack under the weight of his words. "I’ll change. From now on, I’ll listen to what you have to say. In fact, tell me that plan you were going to propose earlier."

A pause lingered, but then, with a sigh, he added: "But before that, there’s something more important."

His words echoed in the silence before Silco took you by the waist, pulling you toward him. He kissed you with a passion that overflowed with unspoken apologies, a fire that spoke of promises of change and a renewed understanding between you both.

Mel

The luxurious bedroom was bathed in soft lights that enhanced the golden and ivory tones of the walls. You turned in front of the mirror, admiring how the dress flowed around your body, highlighting your curves and cascading elegantly in a fabric waterfall. The excitement of the night reflected in your eyes, waiting for Mel's approval.

When you stepped out of the dressing room, the smile on your lips quickly faded as you noticed the disapproving expression on her face. Mel looked you up and down, her gaze critical and stern. "Take it off," she ordered in a cold, distant tone. "Put on the one I chose for you."

You frowned, surprised. "Why? What's wrong with this one?"

"It’s not that there's anything wrong with it," she replied, crossing her arms with an air of authority. "It’s just not what I want for you tonight. Change your makeup and hairstyle as well. Something more sophisticated would be better."

The heat rushed to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and anger. "Nothing I do is good enough for you, right?" you exclaimed, your eyes sparking with indignation. "It feels like you always have to correct me."

Mel raised an eyebrow, her voice firm and unapologetic. "You should be grateful. I'm helping you make the most of your appearance. I need us to be perfect tonight."

"You mean you need to be perfect," you corrected, unbuckling your heels and throwing them to the floor with a sharp sound. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

Without waiting for a response, you made your way to the terrace, needing fresh air to calm the whirlwind of emotions stirring inside you. The cool breeze caressed your face as you leaned on the railing, trying to hold back tears.

It wasn’t long before Mel appeared behind you, her elegant silhouette illuminated by the moonlight. "Why are you acting like this?" she asked, her voice softer now, but still tinged with confusion.

"Seriously, Mel?" you turned to face her, your voice shaking with frustration. "Nothing I do seems right to you. You always correct me—the way I walk, the way I talk, and now even the color of my lipstick. It’s extreme and stupid."

Mel looked at you with a mix of surprise and reflection, as if your words had struck her for the first time. "I hadn’t thought of it that way," she finally admitted, her voice quieter. "I guess... I’m really hard on myself, and I project it onto others."

You took a deep breath, your eyes still shining with contained emotion. "I don’t want you to be like that with me. I’m not an extension of your standards, Mel."

Silence stretched between you for a moment before Mel took a step forward, enveloping you in a firm, comforting hug. "I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. You’re fine just as you are, and I apologize for projecting my insecurities onto you."

You leaned into her, feeling the tension slowly fade. "I understand," you replied softly. "I know you were raised to be perfect. But please, when you feel those things, communicate them in a different way. Don’t impose them."

Mel nodded, her gaze meeting yours with a mix of regret and affection. "I will," she promised. "Please, come with me to the party. Without you, I won’t have the strength to go."

You hesitated for a moment, looking at yourself with insecurity. Mel noticed and gently cupped your face in her hands. "That dress looks amazing on you," she said with a warm smile. "It highlights everything I love about you."

Her words and the kiss that followed dispelled any doubt, filling you with renewed confidence as you agreed to accompany her, knowing this time, you would go as yourself, not as a perfected version to satisfy Mel's standards.

Sevika

The apartment door opened slowly, revealing Sevika's figure in the dim light. She walked in with tired steps, the weight of the night reflecting on her shoulders. You, who had been waiting patiently for her return, stood up from the couch with relief, but as you approached to embrace her, something stopped you. A strange scent, sweet and foreign, emanated from her skin, a fragrance that didn’t belong to any perfume you knew her to wear.

Your heart raced as you took a slight step back, your eyes fixed on her. "Who were you with?" you asked, trying to keep your voice calm, although a mix of anxiety and distrust began to rise within you.

Sevika looked at you in surprise, not understanding the reason for your unease. "I was at the bar, drinking. My ex joined me, we talked a bit, had a good time." She said it with such casualness that every word pierced you like a poisoned dart.

Anger began to bubble up inside you. "Why are you talking about it so casually?" you spat, feeling your voice start to tremble.

She frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You shouldn’t have gone out with your ex!" you exclaimed, frustration coloring your words. "You owe me respect."

Sevika crossed her arms, her gaze hardening. "I do what I want," she replied coldly. "If you don’t trust me, maybe you should leave."

Your eyes widened at her comment. The idea of walking out that door tempted you, but sadness and rage kept you rooted to the ground. "Is that what you want?" you whispered, your voice shaking. "For me to leave?"

Sevika seemed to realize the weight of her words. She took a step toward you, extending her hand as if trying to stop you. "Wait, I didn’t mean that," she murmured, her tone softer, almost pleading. "You know I’m impulsive."

"Of course, impulsive... and nostalgic too," you replied bitterly, your eyes burning with contained pain. "You miss your ex, don’t you? You want to get back together with her?"

She frowned, stepping closer until her hands rested on your shoulders. "What’s your problem?" she asked, her voice low but firm. "Why are you saying all these things?"

The emotions you had kept under control for so long finally exploded. "Because I’ve been cheated on before!" you confessed, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. "I know the patterns when I see them. I don’t want to feel stupid and used again."

The hardness in Sevika’s expression melted away, replaced by deep understanding. Her hands, once firm, slid down your arms in a gesture of comfort. "I’m not those people, you shouldn’t compare me to anyone," she said, her voice firm but full of empathy. "If I didn’t want to be with you, I would tell you. I don’t need to lie to anyone. I love you, only you."

Her sincerity pierced your insecurities, breaking down the wall of fear you had built. Still, doubts lingered. "Then why did you go out with her?" you asked, still needing an explanation.

"Because it was a coincidence," Sevika explained, her gaze sincere. "We ran into each other by chance, and I thought there was nothing wrong with sharing a couple of drinks. But now I see it bothers you, and I don’t want to do anything that makes you feel this way."

Her words resonated within you, slowly calming the internal storm. You nodded, allowing the warmth of her promise to envelop you. "I want to believe in you," you whispered.

Sevika stepped closer, her lips finding yours in a deep kiss, full of promises and silent regrets. When she pulled away, her soft voice broke the trance. "Are you better?" she asked, gently caressing your cheek.

"I'll be better when you take a shower and get that cheap perfume off," you joked, your tone still slightly irritated but with a hint of humor.

Sevika laughed, a low, guttural sound that echoed in the space between you. She pulled you by the waist, drawing you even closer. "Then I’m going to need your help," she whispered in your ear, her voice laden with seduction. "Tonight, I feel especially incapable."

Your smile widened, a spark of mischief lighting your eyes. "I guess I can help with that," you murmured, letting the intimacy of the moment take over, knowing that despite everything, you were in the place you wanted to be: by her side.

[bsturnzmtts]

Needy

From older bf! Matt x sweetheart! Reader

Continuation of Innocent touches

Contains/warnings: making out, virgin! shy! Reader, fingering, oral f receiving, pet names, praising, slight overstimulation

It’s been a week, and you can’t stop thinking about what happened last time… how good it felt. The thought lingers, making your heart race, but you don’t know how to bring it up to Matt. You’re not sure if you’re ready to lose your virginity, but you can’t ignore the ache to feel that close to him again. And yet, a small part of you feels guilty, like you haven’t given him enough in return.

You and Matt are lying side by side on his bed, the quiet of the room making everything feel a little more intimate. You’re trying to stay focused on the conversation, but it’s hard with how close he is. Every time his hand brushes yours, your heart races, and you can feel your face getting warm. You subtly move a little closer, hoping he doesn’t notice, but of course, Matt catches it. He glances at you with a sly smile, his tone playful but soft. “You seem a little distracted,” he says, his voice low, as if he knows exactly what’s going on.

Your cheeks burn, and you quickly look away, not sure how to explain the nervous energy building up inside you. “Oh- no no.. sorry, continue.”

Matt chuckles softly, his hand moving to rest on your leg, his thumb gently tracing circles on your skin. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, "You sure? Because it feels like there's something on your mind."

You freeze, your heart racing as you try to steady your breathing. “N-No, it’s nothing,” you stammer, feeling the warmth of his hand on your leg making it even harder to think straight.

Matt’s fingers tighten slightly on your leg, his thumb continuing to draw lazy circles on your skin. He tilts his head, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks, his voice low and soothing. “You sure? You’re blushing, sweetheart.”

Your fingers twitch, wanting to hide your face but unable to move away from him. “I-I don’t know what you mean…”

He chuckles softly, moving his hand slightly higher up your thigh, not enough to be inappropriate, but enough to make you notice. "You don't have to be nervous around me. Whatever it is... you can tell me."

You feel a shiver run through you at the gentle pressure of his hand, your pulse quickening as he continues to trace soft circles. “Nothing… I just think you look really good today.” Your voice barely above a whisper. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your body betraying you with every passing second.

Matt's lips curve into a warm, pleased smile at your shy compliment. He’s clearly enjoying your flustered state but not pushing any further. He shifts closer to you, eliminating the last bit of space between your bodies. His hand, still resting on your thigh, gives it a light, appreciative squeeze. "Thank you... you look really beautiful today too." He moves closer, his face inches from yours, he pulls you into a kiss.

You immediately start kissing him back, like you needed to taste his lips.

As the kiss deepens, Matt's hand on your thigh slowly begins to slide upwards, his touch gentle and unhurried. He takes his time exploring your mouth with his own, savoring the feeling of your lips pressed against his.

You can feel your panties getting wetter and wetter as the kiss keeps going. You can’t help squeeze your thighs together. Your body just did it, not even thinking that Matt's hands are there.

Feeling the movement of your thighs, Matt breaks the kiss and looks at you with a knowing smile. He gently pushes your legs apart, settling his hand between your thighs. "Sweetheart, you're soaked," he says, his voice low and amused.

The sudden touch makes you gasp, your breath catching in your throat. You can feel the heat spreading through your body, your thoughts momentarily scrambling. “Matt…” you whisper, your voice trembling, not sure whether you’re pleading for more or begging for him to stop.

He gently rubs your clit through your soaked panties, his touch light and teasing. "Shh, just relax," he whispers back, his eyes locked on yours. "I've got you." He leans in to kiss you again, his fingers continuing to rub your clit in slow, circular motions.

You try your best to hide your moans and whimpers but miserably fail. “I—” You swallow, trying to find your voice. “I don’t know what I want…” Your body starts squirming with pleasure.

Matt smiles against your lips, his fingers never stopping their gentle rubbing. "You don't have to know," he whispers back, his free hand reaching out to gently stroke your hair. "I know exactly what you want." He kisses you deeply, his fingers increasing their pressure slightly as he rubs your clit.

You moan at his words and dominance. Without even thinking your hips buck against his hand.

His low chuckle vibrates against your lips as he continues to tease you. His fingers slip beneath the edge of your panties, finally touching bare skin. "Look at you, getting so needy..." His voice is a husky whisper, clearly enjoying your reactions.

“Oh Matt” moans are coming out of your mouth as you roll your eyes in pleasure.

His fingers slide down, parting your folds and slowly entering you. He begins to pump them in and out, his thumb continuing to circle your clit. His other hand grips your hip, holding you still. "So tight and wet for me,"

“Mmh fuck”

He smirks at your curse, his fingers curling slightly inside you to hit that sweet spot. He leans in to suck on your neck, marking you as he continues to finger you. "Such a dirty mouth on you, sweetheart,"

“Mmh M-Matt I think-” that now familiar knot starts forming on your stomach.

He notices the change in your body and pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them to his lips and sucking your juices off them.

“Mmh noo, why did you stop?” You whine.

Matt chuckles softly, a wicked glint in his eye. "Patience, sweetheart. I'm not about to leave you hanging." He leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. "I just want to taste you properly."

You frown your eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

His hand moves between your legs again, gently stroking your soaked panties. “Lie back," he commands softly, already moving down your body. "Spread your legs for me." His tone is gentle but firm, leaving no room for misunderstanding. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down. "I'm going to lick this pretty pussy until you come all over my face." He starts placing soft kisses along your inner thighs.

You gasp at his words and actions. You can feel your pussy clenching around nothing as you feel his hot breath getting closer.

He settles between your legs, pushing them wider apart. His thumbs spread your folds open, revealing your swollen clit. He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Beautiful," He presses a gentle kiss right above your clit, making you gasp. "Look at how swollen you are for me," His tongue makes a single slow pass over your clit, making you arch your back "So sweet..."

“Matt mmh” it felt amazing, you’ve never felt this good before.

He starts lavishing attention on your clit with his tongue, alternating between gentle licks and firm sucking. His fingers slide inside you again, finding that spot that drives you wild. Every time you moan, he groans against your pussy, the vibrations adding to your pleasure. "You're doing so well, sweetheart," He whispers against your sensitive skin, his breath hot and teasing.

“It feels so good Matt” you moan as you arch your back further. And your hands move down to his hair.

He feels your hands in his hair, tugging gently as you arch your back making him growl softly, the sound sending shivers through your body. He buries his face between your legs, eating at your pussy like a starving man. "Fuck, you taste so good," He curls his fingers inside you, hitting that spot that makes his knees buckle underneath him.

“Oh god mh Matt I’m close.” you whimper.

Presses harder on your clit with his tongue, moving his fingers faster inside you "Come for me, sweetheart. Let me taste it all." His other hand moves to your stomach, pressing down gently to keep you from bucking away from his mouth "Come all over my face."

“Fuck Matt mmh” finally you feel that knot release at your body shakes slightly.

As your orgasm hits, he continues lapping at your pussy, prolonging your pleasure. He moans against you, clearly delighted by your intense response. "That's it, fuck yes," he praises, his voice muffled by your thighs. He grabs your thighs tightly as he continues to suck on your clit.

“Mmh no Matt mh I- I’m sensitive” you let out and your thighs try to close.

He ignores your pleas, keeping your thighs spread wide as he continues his feast. "Shh, you can take it," He growled possessively, his hands tightening on your thighs to keep them open. He sucks on your swollen bud, drawing out another whimper from you.

“Fuck pl-please stop” you bed as your hips buck in overstimulation.

He finally relents, releasing your clit and leaning back with a smug grin. His lips and chin glisten with your juices. "You taste divine, sweetheart." He gives one last teasing lick, making you shudder. Rising up, he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Mh” you kiss back tasting yourself. “Thank you Matt…”

He breaks the kiss, nuzzling into your neck. "No, thank you, I could eat you out all night.” He murmurs, his breath hot on your skin.

You blush slightly at his words and get nervous again. “Matt..”

Sensing your nervousness, he pulls back slightly and cups your face gently. "Hey, look at me." His thumb brushes your cheek soothingly. "We don't have to do anything else you're not comfortable with, okay?"

You look away feeling even more nervous and guilty you haven’t given him anything. “But… what about you?”

He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "What about me?" His expression is soft, with no hint of frustration or demand. "Don't worry about me right now." He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I just wanted to make you feel good. If you're worried about returning the favor, don't be. I'm happy just making you come undone like that."

“Are you sure?”

He smiles reassuringly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yes. You don't owe me anything. I like spoiling you and making you feel good, okay?" He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his lap. "Let's just cuddle for a bit, hmm?"

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[yesimwriting]

Happy new year! I wish you all a blessed 2025 ❤️

Now personally I don’t care the new years kiss tradition is about kissing your significant other, every single friend I love is getting love back from me when I’m drunk.

Bestie reader should absolutely give Louis the biggest platonic SMOOCH because he deserves it. He’d walk around with lipstick on his forehead or something, take a pic, save it for later to make fun of the level of readers intoxication.

a/n happy new year!! i'm totally the same about nye kisses and drinking, i get a little sappy and suddenly everyone in my life needs to know how much i mean to them lol i love this concept and it's perfect for the first fic of 2025!

also as a side note, going out/drinking with a vampire seems so perfect, ultimate scary dog privileges bc let some creepy man try anything and suddenly louis has a little late night snack <3 it sounds so freeing

----

The music's heavy pulse has aligned itself with your own, the base of it reverberating through your chest so thoroughly it might as well take the place of your heart. You can't bring yourself to dislike the feeling.

"O-kay." Your enthusiasm breaks the word into two. You let yourself lean into the feeling, into the fullness of your joy. "I think the regular vodka's stronger than the jello shots, because it's vodka not vodka-jello."

Louis presses his lips together in an attempt to keep from grinning too broadly. "That makes sense."

Your eyes narrow as you give yourself a moment to absorb the response. "It does," the words are much more contemplative than they need to be, "I'm so smart."

This time, Louis lets himself react. He laughs at the deliberateness pressed into your syllables. You're too out of it to think to mind his reaction. "You're drunk."

You straighten slightly as if that'll be enough to prove him wrong. "I'm happy."

Louis extends an arm, placing a hand on your shoulder in an instinctual attempt at keeping you steady. You're not exactly implying instability, but he's been spent enough time around you like this to know it's better to be safe than sorry.

"You're drunk."

You tilt your head at the correction, blinking at him curiously. "For some people, that's the same thing."

"Yeah?" The word is much too amused.

You nod enthusiastically, shifting your weight from foot to foot in a way that leaves Louis squeezing your arm a little tighter. "Yeah." You pause, eyebrows drawing together pensively as you struggle to grasp your next thought in its entirety. "I love you. I want you to be as happy as I am."

"Okay." He lets out a partial laugh. You're a good, terribly affectionate drunk. "I'm very happy. I promise."

His assurance doesn't seem to ease you. Instead of moving onto a separate topic of conversation or attempting to escape him in order to track down another shot, you frown. You step back slightly before lifting your arm. "Here."

You're holding your wrist out in front of him so innocently Louis can almost make himself forget what you're offering. "That--that's really nice of you, but I'm okay."

You frown, staring up at him with wide, sad eyes. Louis sighs, his fingers gently bending around your forearm. He pulls your hand down towards your side before stepping closer to you. In an abundance of precaution, he angles his head towards your ear. "I had that boy that grabbed your arm earlier, remember?"

"My blood is perfectly good--blood." Great, he's stumbled onto this argument again. You're not looking to be hurt, but for whatever reason, you're convinced that Louis's refusal to consume your blood to any extent is limiting your friendship. "Seriously, a doctor has never struggled to find my veins."

The defense is slurred and devoid of serious logic. Still, such a consistent mentioning of something he's always trying to ignore...always trying to forget makes it difficult to focus on anything else. The blood moving beneath your skin is warm against his palms, and it--the scent of it...

It is possible to stop. Some know how to resist, how to take just enough to feel something without bringing a life to its end. Lestat had possessed that kind of control, had used it when creating Claudia.

The thought leaves him more somber than he's prepared to be. Even if he could sense that kind of strength in himself, he--he couldn't use you in that way. Introducing you to his world at all was a cruel enough act on its own, he doesn't need to taint you further.

Louis squeezes his eyes shut, exhaling before pulling away slightly. He lifts your arm slowly, his thumb brushing against your wrist's pulse point. You watch him silently as he brings your inner forearm to his mouth. He presses his lips against your skin. "It's not you."

You're quiet for a second, something oddly sober briefly flickering behind your gaze. "I know," you relent slowly, "On some level, I know."

You look at him, then, with a careful awareness that often leaves him feeling like you're the one capable of looking into his mind. "But it better not be because you think your existence is some terrible burden you're inflicting onto me."

It's a warning he's used to hearing. His lips part, but before he can think of a response, the crowd around you shifts. A variety of voices blend together as they start to count, "...Ten...nine...."

"New years!" You beam, reaching for Louis's hand as you turn towards the others.

The countdown continues, the numbers oddly in sync for a bar so full of drink individuals. The clock hits midnight, the crowd erupts into cheers.

You grin, straightening fully as you lean towards him. Before Louis can think to ask about what you're doing, you press your lips against his cheek. He can feel the residue of your lipgloss against his skin, but he can't bring himself to mind it. This isn't the first time you've gotten a little affectionate while drunk, but normally there's some warning. "What was that for?"

You shrug innocently, "New Years kiss."

You let go of him fully, halfheartedly pushing his arm off your shoulder as you start moving away from him. "Where are you going?"

"I want another shot." The response is absentmindedly thrown over your shoulder, like Louis should have had the foresight to follow you.

A part of him is glad that your back is to him. This way, he can grin openly without encouraging your behavior. "Slow down--you're in heels."

You turn at that, flashing your middle finger before continuing forward. Oh, you're not going to get the hear end of this tomorrow.

[mbat]

sigh, i understand why people love anduin so much, hes such a disaster puppy

[gloriousmonsters]

well on one hand another popular blog is going to piss me off seeing me on my dash now. on the other hand it's for being transandrophobic so like, at least there's some variety from the tankies?

[lyrefromthesea]

(Ignore this if this if u don’t want to do this) May I request something? I would love to see some masturbation headcanons about the pillars, while away on a mission for too long or just needy in general and their S/O is either ignoring/teasing them on purpose or just not available.

Take care and good night/day!

🌙

Male pillars x Reader - masturbating when you're away

author's note: i think i messed up Rengoku's part, the reader is sitting right in front of him. i sadly don't have time to change it, but i hope you'll still find pleasure reading his part.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: nsfw, smut

Tengen:

• honestly, really doesn't masturbate often, he's together with four gorgeous people after all

• will only do it when he's on a long mission

• or after you teased him relentlessly, not because he's that desperate (he is), but to punish you.

the door was locked, your ear pressed against the wood separating Tengen and you. he had locked himself inside, not going to accept your teasing any longer.

"your fault, darling." he moaned, refusing to let you in. you could hear the slick sound of his hand moving up and down his cock.

truthfully, he would've almost felt embarrassed showing it to you, your teasing touches and words now made his irritated cock oversensitive.

"maybe next time you wanted to fuck, you could've just told me.." he groaned, the sound making warmth spread to your lower body.

yes, this was his way of punishing you, he just didn't expect to hear you moan on the other side of the door, deciding to make him taste his own medicine.

he squeezed the base of his cock tightly, trying to prevent himself from cumming. shit, he didn't know you would pull this kind of stunt on him.

Obanai:

• not the kind of person to masturbate because he feels the need to

• probably started when he fell in love with you and wanted to feel your body against his

• would never tell you what happened behind closed doors

"s- shit.." he gasped, hand steadily stroking his dick. he didn't think his day would end like this, but his body reacted involuntarely when you two interacted.

it wasn't much, you just needed to get past him and squeezed your body past his. however, feeling your chest press against his own send his mind reeling.

he had immediately hurried home, locking himself up to take care of his problem. however, he couldn't stop thinking of you - your touch.

"i just want you.." he moaned, trying to let his frustration out. naturally, his movements got more rough, making his poor cock twitch from the overstimulation.

"damn it..!" he cursed, pulling his hand away with a whimper. he felt pathetic, but couldn't stop either.

was it so hard to just talk to you already?

Rengoku:

• this man doesn't masturbate at all. (not really, but y'know what i mean.)

• weirdly enough, would probably do it if you ask him

• mutual masturbation? he'll do it

"i didn't.. i didn't think it would feel this good.." he panted, hand trying to match the rhythm you were using on yourself. his eyebrows were furrowed, sweat making hair stick to his head.

"do you feel g- good too?" he asked, lips parted - he felt like hyperventilating otherwise.

his eyes were trained on your hands, watching the way you were playing with yourself. something about seeing you like this - needy and desperate - managed to get him so much harder.

however, your hands faltered, watching him stroke his dick, making you slowly forget about moving. you were entranced by his moans, often harmonizing with yours.

"h- hey! you need to keep going t- too.." he moaned, snapping you out of your trance. you started moving your hands again, moaning at the familiar feeling of pleasure.

who knew masturbating like this could be this erotic? perhaps you should introduce him to other ideas in bed too.

Sanemi:

• does jack off every now and then, it was like that before he met you already

• will always prefer sex with you if he has the chance, masturbating is his last resort

• mostly on missions, somehow always turns it rough

the message he received from you - delivered from a small crow - was meant to be innocent.

when you wrote about how you missed his touch, you refered to the times the two of you would sit together and cuddle or lay in bed. it's not your fault he interpreted it differently.

for him your message felt like an endless tease, clouding his mind with the thoughts of your shared intimacy. naturally, being the man he was, he was pissed.

"y- you little.." he groaned, burying his head in the pillow right next o him. he didn't need the people next door hearing him jack off.

"when i get back and your needy little ass won't be there- fuck!" his groans turned louder, the movement of his hand turning even rougher.

life was unfair, he was fucking horny because of you and you weren't even there to take responsibility for it. he could only thrust into his hand, pretending it was you.

"i'll fuck you, j- just you wait.." he spoke, already having forgotten that he had wanted to be silent. his thoughts were completely on you, imagining the way he would take you when he came back home.

and truthfully, you knew this was going to happen, didn't you?

Giyuu:

• nearly never touched himself before meeting you, it skyrocketed with your relationship

• will not touch himself while he's away

• turns into a whining mess when you're the one going away

"[name], [name], [name]..!" he chanted, eagerly bucking into his hand. it's only been four days, but he was desperate to be in your arms again - to hold you in his arms.

he had tried to stay civil at first, going on about his day, but after the second night of being alone, he found himself sleeping on your side of the bed, breathing in the remains of your sweet scent.

he didn't want to get hard from it, he really didn't, it just happened. it was too late to stop when he realized what he was doing, already grinding against the mattress.

"i want to cum, i want to cum so bad.." he gasped, whines leaving his lips with every thrust of his cock. his knees were pushing his lower body up, left arm holding his upper body up.

he knew it was lewd, that others would probably laugh at him for behaving like this, but he was in need of your presence.

"gonna cum for you, gonna cum for you.. s- so hard.." he whimpered, not noticing how the front door opened.

you would return today, but blinded by his feelings, he had completely forgotten.

well, at least the sight of his shaking body would be a nice surprise for you.

Gyomei:

• truthfully, nearly doesn't masturbate at all

• will probably do it while being away for a mission for a long time

• would probably feel guilty after thinking of you during such a lewd act

"ah, [name].." he muttered, strong hand wrapped around his shaft. his head was dipped down, eyes closed in concentration.

he had been masturbating for a while now, his cock twitching in hand. he was close, the sound of your voice lingering in his mind. the melodic sound of your laugh always managed to bring him closer to ecstacy.

"i hope you can forgive me for this, darling.." he groaned, trying to keep his voice down. he climaxed silently, knowing that people were staying in the room next door.

he felt his cum ooze out silently, his other hand covering his mouth. he had to stay in an inn for this mission, but other people had rented rooms in this place.

he opened his eyes slowly, his lips parted to take deep breaths. he knew you probably wouldn't mind, but he still felt guilt bubble up in him.

[avonnimimi]

❀·°∗✧🌸✧∗°·❀

Attitude Adjustment

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an: this is my first little drabble, please be nice, I hope you all like it, lmk if you want more or any other characters my asks are opennnn:) (no i did not spell check this or read it over) MEN AND MINORS DNI

content: college!au, kind of porn with a plot, mean!vi, strap-on-sex (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving) brat taming?, dom!vi, one pussy slap, multiple + forced orgasms, edging?, choking, degrading names, hair pulling, breeding kink, cursing. (lmk if i missed anything)

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It wasn't like you to be so miserable especially not toward Violet. But she'd been gone for four whole weeks, off training with an elite professional boxer, and it was driving you insane.

Sure, she called every night, texted you every morning, and checked in whenever she could, but now it was ovulation week, and she knew it. She knew exactly what her absence would do to you.

You'd tried to take care of yourself, desperate for relief, but your fingers couldn't fill you the way hers did.

Frustration festered in your chest, spiraling into a dull ache that left you feeling empty and irritable. Now, you were curled up in your dorm bed, naked, fat tears brimming in your eyes as you clutched the phone.

It vibrated in your hand.

Vi was calling.

You answered immediately.

"Hey, princess," her familiar voice drawled, warm and affectionate.

You huffed. "Hi, Violet."

She chuckled softly, but there was concern in her tone. "What's wrong?"

You didn't answer. You couldn't.

Instead, you did something you never thought you'd do-you hung up.

Vi always made you feel heard and loved, but the irritation of missing her, the ache in your chest and between your legs, had you acting out of character.

You buried your face in the pillow, ignoring the buzz of your phone as it vibrated relentlessly for the next 15 minutes. Call after call, message after message, it was all Vi.

Still, you didn't respond. Your body, overwhelmed by exhaustion and longing, eventually lulled you to sleep.

But the peace didn't last long.

A loud pounding on your dorm door startled you awake. Your heart leaped into your throat as you scrambled for your phone, ready to speed-dial Vi, but what could she do? She was miles away.

Tugging one of Vi's old shirts over your bare body, you crept to the door. Your hands trembled as you unlocked it, cautiously pulling it open.

"V-Vi?" There she was, in all her glory, and she looked furious. She didn’t tell you she was going to be back early.

You stepped back, fingers fidgeting with the hem of the oversized shirt, eyes wide. Vi didn't say a word as she pushed the door open wider, her sneakers heavy against the floor as she made her way to your couch.

She sat down, legs spread wide, one hand resting on her thigh. "You gonna explain what the fuck that was earlier?"

Her voice was sharp, cutting through the thick tension in the room.

You closed the door quietly, too scared to meet her eyes. You'd rarely seen Vi upset, but this? This was something else entirely.

"C'mere," she commanded.

You hesitated but obeyed, walking over to stand in front of her. Her piercing gaze followed you as you slowly straddled her lap, your legs trembling slightly as you draped them over hers. Her hands immediately gripped your hips, pulling you flush against her chest.

You froze, your breath hitching when you felt her bulge press against your clit.

"Not gonna speak?" she murmured, her voice low and dangerous.

Your gaze dropped to the floor, but Vi

wasn't having it. She grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her. Her thumb brushed over your bottom lip, her eyes dark with frustration and something deeper desire.

"You never use your mouth when you're supposed to," she said, her tone laced with mock disappointment. "Let's put it to use now."

A needy whimper escaped you. "I'm sorry," you whispered, but the words sounded weak even to your own ears.

Vi didn't respond. She slid two fingers into your mouth, her calloused fingertips brushing against your tongue.

Instinctively, you sucked, hollowing your cheeks in a desperate attempt to please her.

Her eyes fixated on you, watching the way your puffy lips wrapped around her fingers. Her thumb stroked your jawline, almost as if she was admiring her handiwork.

Then she adjusted in her seat, her hips shifting so that her bulge pressed harder against your sensitive clit. The friction sent a shockwave through your body, and a moan escaped your lips, muffled by her fingers.

Vi smirked, her annoyance melting into something far more predatory.

"Yeah," she muttered, her voice a low rumble. "That's what I thought."

Her tone sent a shiver down your spine, and when she pushed her fingers deeper, you gagged, your throat tightening around them. A satisfied hum rumbled in her chest as she slowly withdrew her fingers, a thin string of saliva still connecting you.

Before you could catch your breath, Vi scooped you up effortlessly, her strong arms cradling you against her chest. Desperate to make amends, your lips found her neck, kissing, licking, and sucking across her warm skin in frantic, apologetic motions.

She didn't say a word, her expression unreadable, but the heat of her gaze pinned you in place as she carried you to the bed. Gently but firmly, she set you down, her fingers already tugging at the hem of your shirt. She pulled it off in one smooth motion, leaving you bare and exposed under her intense scrutiny.

"Ass up. Now."

Her voice was low and commanding, leaving no room for argument. Your body moved instinctively, heart pounding as you obeyed, presenting yourself just the way she liked.

You felt her shift behind you, her calloused fingers spreading your slick folds with ease. "Fuck me," she groaned, her voice dripping with need.

"So fucking wet. This what you wanted? Wanted this slutty little pussy pounded in, huh?"

When you didn't answer fast enough, a sharp, stinging slap landed right on your swollen clit, sending a jolt through your body.

"Yes!" you cried out, your voice trembling with desperation. "Wanted it so bad, Vi... please," you whined, your hips instinctively pushing back toward her.

Your back arched deeper, presenting yourself fully, your body begging for her to finally give you what you needed. The tension in the air was electric, leaving you waiting, trembling with anticipation.

"I know, baby, I know," she murmured, her voice low and soothing as her thumb pressed against your puffy clit, tracing tight, deliberate circles over the sensitive bud. The touch was perfect-just what you'd been craving for weeks.

You clutched the sheets beneath you, a shaky sigh escaping your lips as relief washed over you. Finally, finally, she was giving your needy pussy attention. Soft whimpers spilled from your mouth, your hips grinding back into her hand, desperate for more.

"Mhm, yeah," she cooed, her voice laced with teasing affection. "My baby gets so miserable when she doesn't get what she wants, huh?"

Before you could respond, her middle finger slid inside you with ease, her knuckles brushing against your entrance. The stretch sent sparks of pleasure coursing through your body, and your head fell back against the pillow.

"F-fuck.. Vi," you gasped, your voice trembling as your walls clenched around her.

Before you could fully adjust, she slid in another finger, the stretch making your walls flutter around her. "But y'know what I don't like?" she asked, her tone sharp, almost mocking.

You gasped as her thrusts grew deeper, faster, leaving no room for your protests. "V-Vi, wait-" you stammered, your voice barely above a whine.

"I don't like when my girl gets all bratty just because she doesn't get her greedy little cunt stuffed up," she growled, her voice dripping with dominance. Without hesitation, she added a third finger, forcing another gasp from your lips.

"Fucking slut," she spat, her fingers curling perfectly to press against that sensitive, squishy spot deep inside your gummy walls. "So desperate."

The obscene squelching of your soaked pussy filled the room, mingling with your broken moans that grew louder with every thrust. Your body trembled, completely at her mercy, as she pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

—

Three orgasms in, Vi had her strap so deep inside you that it felt like she was rearranging your insides. She hit every spot so perfectly you couldn’t even think straight. Your vision blurred, stars swimming behind your eyelids. Your face was smashed into the pillows, her hand pressing down hard to keep you there. She didn’t want to hear a single sound out of you, but fuck, you couldn’t help it. You tried to stay quiet, but the way she was fucking you? It was impossible. She’d never been this rough before. Was it bad that you liked it? No. Of course you liked it. You loved it.

You tried to say something, tried to beg, or explain yourself. You just wanted her to understand, you missed her, that’s why you acted out, that’s why you got upset. But the words wouldn’t come.

“You want a break? Hm?” she sneered, her voice dripping with mockery. You couldn’t even answer, too fucked out to form anything close to a response. Your pussy clenched around her cock like it was starving for it, drooling all over her strap. She noticed, of course. How couldn’t she?

She grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you up, dragging your body back against hers until your back arched so deep it nearly hurt. “Fuckin’ knew it,” she growled in your ear, slamming into you even harder. “Such a cockslut. You don’t need a break, you need me to ruin you.”

And you did. God, you did.

Your mouth hung open, words replaced by gasps and moans you couldn’t hold back. You could barely think, let alone speak. She shoved your face back into the pillows like she was disgusted by the sound of you, pulling out until just the tip of her strap sat there, teasing you, before slamming back inside without warning. You cried out, fat tears streaking down your face, soaking into the sheets.

“Shut the fuck up,” she snapped, giving your hair another sharp tug. You tried. you really did, but every thrust knocked the air out of you, made your body betray you all over again. Your cunt was so wet, so messy, it was loud enough to echo in the room. Vi fucked you like she didn’t care, like you weren’t hers, and you fucking loved it.

Your hips moved on their own, trying to meet her thrusts, but she wasn’t having it. She pinned you down harder, her grip unrelenting, her pace brutal. You felt like you were falling apart under her, barely holding on, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the way she fucked you.

Your body gave her all the answers she needed—your pussy creaming for her, clenching so tight it felt like you never wanted to let her go. And you didn’t. You didn’t care how rough she was, how raw this felt. You wanted her to keep going, to leave you wrecked. You wanted all of it.

“Mmm, cumming—gonna cum… V-Vi, I’m gonna cum again, fuckkkkk—” you whined, your voice cracking as your body trembled. But just as you were about to fall apart, she pulled out, leaving you empty, throbbing, and desperate. You barely had time to complain before she flipped you onto your back, manhandling you into a brutal mating press. Your knees were pushed up damn near to your shoulders, leaving you completely exposed.

“Don’t fucking cum,” she growled, her voice low and mean. “Gonna show you what happens when you pull bullshit with me.”

Before you could even catch your breath, she slammed her cock back inside you, filling you to the hilt in one sharp thrust. You cried out, your hands clawing at the sheets, but she didn’t care. Her thumb found your clit, rubbing it just enough to make your head spin. She knew exactly what she was doing. She wanted you to break. She wanted you to cum—so she could punish you for it.

“Gonna be a good girl f’me? Don’t cum, baby,” she teased, grinning down at you like she had you completely figured out. And she did. You were already shaking, your body on fire, the pressure building so fast it felt like you were going to explode.

“W-wait! No, c-can’t—” you babbled, words falling apart as you hiccupped between gasps. You were so close it hurt, and she knew it. She fucking knew.

“Fuck, I wish I could get you pregnant,” she said, her voice rough and breathless. “Breed this fucking tight cunt.”

The filthy words sent your mind reeling, your pussy clenching hard around her cock. You couldn’t stop it—your body betrayed you completely. But that’s exactly what she wanted.

You came hard—so hard you couldn’t breathe. Your chest heaved, your body spasming uncontrollably, but Vi didn’t stop. Not even for a second. “Yeahhh,” she groaned, her voice low and dripping with satisfaction. “Cream all over this dick. Let me see it, baby.” Her words were filthy, but the way her hips snapped into you made it impossible to care. You couldn’t respond, couldn’t even think. The overstimulation was unbearable, every nerve in your body lit up and sparking like fireworks.

Her hand found your throat, her grip firm but teasing, just enough to make you whimper. “Whose pussy is this, huh? Tell me,” she growled, her tone sharp, commanding. Her eyes bore into you as her thumb pressed into the side of your neck, daring you to answer. But you couldn’t. You were still cumming, your body jerking beneath her as she drilled into you, her pace unrelenting. Her cock slammed so deep it felt like she was splitting you open, her tip slamming into your cervix over and over again, sending sharp waves of pleasure and pain straight through you.

“You can’t even talk, can you?” she sneered, her lips curling into a cocky grin. “God, look at you. Fucking wrecked. You like this, don’t you? Being my little cumdump?”

Her thumb dragged over your clit again, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made the pressure inside you skyrocket all over again. Your legs trembled violently, your back arching so hard it felt like you’d snap in half. “Come on, baby,” she taunted. “Wonder if I can make this little pussy squirt. You wanna squirt for me? Hm? I know you do.”

“N-no! I can’t—I c-can’t—” you babbled, tears streaming down your face. But your body betrayed you. The way your pussy clenched around her cock, the way you gushed every time she hit that perfect spot—it told her everything she needed to know.

“Yeah, you can,” she growled, leaning in closer, her lips brushing against your ear. “You’re gonna squirt for me, baby. Gonna fucking soak me, aren’t you? I know this pussy can do it. Fuck, I wish I could knock you up—fill you up with my cum and watch you take every drop. I’d breed this tight little cunt every fucking day if I could.”

Her filthy words sent your mind spiraling, the heat in your stomach boiling over. “Vi, please!” you sobbed, but you didn’t even know what you were begging for. Relief? More? It didn’t matter—she wasn’t stopping.

“Bet you’d look so fucking good, all round and full with my baby,” she continued, her voice rough and breathless. “You’d let me, wouldn’t you? Make you a mommy, let me breed you over and over until this pussy’s mine forever?”

Her words hit you like a tidal wave, and the pressure inside you snapped all at once. You screamed, your body locking up as a gush of wetness exploded from you, soaking her cock, her thighs, the sheets—everything. She didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, her thrusts pushing you through it as more and more juices poured out of you, leaving you shaking and completely spent.

“There it is,” she groaned, her voice thick with satisfaction. “Knew you had it in you. Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect, baby. Look at this messy little pussy.” Her hands gripped your thighs, pinning you down as you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure. Your body twitched and jerked with every thrust, tears streaming down your face, but she wasn’t letting up just yet.

“Vi, please,” you cried, your voice hoarse and broken. “C-can’t—too much—”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she slowed down, her thrusts easing until she pulled out completely. You collapsed onto the bed, trembling and gasping for air, your body completely wrecked. Vi stayed there for a moment, watching you, her chest heaving as she caught her own breath. Her cocky smirk was painted across her face, but there was something softer in her eyes now, a tenderness creeping in as she took in the mess she’d made of you.

“Fuck, baby,” she murmured, leaning down to brush her lips against your temple. “You okay? You still with me?”

You nodded weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Y-yeah… just… fuck.”

Vi laughed softly, her hand coming up to stroke your hair. “Yeah, you’re a mess,” she teased, her tone gentler now. She pulled the strap off and tossed it aside, then scooped you up into her arms, holding you close against her chest. “Shhh, it’s okay. I got you.”

She pressed soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, anywhere she could reach, her hands rubbing soothing circles into your back. “You did so good for me, baby. So fucking good,” she whispered, her voice full of warmth.

You buried your face in her neck, letting her steady heartbeat calm you. She stayed like that for a while, just holding you, until your breathing evened out. Then she shifted, reaching over to grab a towel. “Hold still, sweetheart. Let me clean you up,” she said softly.

Her touch was careful but firm as she wiped you down, murmuring soft apologies whenever you flinched from sensitivity. She took her time, making sure you were completely clean before grabbing a fresh blanket to wrap around both of you. Once she was satisfied, she pulled you back into her arms, tucking you against her like she never wanted to let you go.

“You sure you’re okay?” she asked again, tilting your chin up so she could look into your eyes. “I didn’t go too hard, did I? You’d tell me if I did?”

You shook your head, a tired smile tugging at your lips. “No… it was perfect. You’re perfect,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Vi smiled back, her thumb brushing over your cheek. “Nah, you’re the perfect one,” she said softly. She kissed you again, slow and tender, before pulling you even closer. “Close your eyes, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

You melted into her, letting her warmth and soft words lull you into a peaceful haze. She stayed awake a little longer, stroking your hair and whispering sweet things, her voice the last thing you heard before sleep took you.

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this is my original post, please don’t repost, translate, or plagiarize my work ;)

©️avonnimimi 2024

[foxy-eva]

Send Nudes

Summary: Chaos ensues after you accidentally send Spencer a nude pic

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) dub-con (Spencer receives an unsolicited nude pic), embarrassment, awkwardness, tension, heavy kissing, male masturbation, oral (fem receiving), handjob, protected penetrative sex

Author's Note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Wrong Recipient Challenge!

Word count: 3.2k

Masterlist

Panic. Embarrassment. Shame. 

It was hard to describe what you felt when you stared at your phone, realizing that you had just sent Spencer Reid a nude picture of yourself. 

It was a mistake, of course – right when you wanted to send him a screenshot of an article, you stumbled over the mess in your apartment and selected the wrong picture. Frozen in place, you watched in horror as the read receipt showed up instantly. 

Spencer had just seen your naked body light up on the screen of his phone. 

A picture he never asked for and probably didn't want to see. It wasn’t a bad photo, some might even call it aesthetically pleasing. But you had never intended for anyone else to see it. It was just a way for you to make yourself feel good about your body. 

You contemplated your options. Burning your phone, moving across the country and changing your identity sounded intriguing but difficult to arrange. Instead you decided to text Spencer, hoping that soon you’d both be able to laugh about the embarrassing thing you just did. 

“I am so sorry about that. I really didn't mean to send that! Can you please delete the pic and forget about it?” 

You didn't get a response. Spencer was never great at texting but you had really hoped to hear back from him. It was hard to tell if he felt just as embarrassed or maybe even offended – you certainly wouldn't want to receive unsolicited nude pics either. 

You had barely gotten any sleep when you walked into work the next morning. Worst case scenarios had plagued your mind all night – from another painful workplace sexual harassment seminar to maybe even losing your job over your mishap – you had no idea what would expect you today. 

Everything seemed normal when you got to your desk, except for the fact that your favorite coworker didn't even look at you when you walked by him. Spencer usually liked sitting beside you in the conference room and also on the jet, but he did neither of those things that day. 

“Wow you really must have pissed Reid off, huh?” Luke whispered when he sat down beside you on the plane. 

“Did he say anything to you?” you wanted to know. 

“No, he didn't. What did you do? Spill coffee over his favorite chess board?” he teased. 

“Oh it’s so much worse than that,” you whined while heat rushed to your face. 

Emily decided to discuss the case before Luke could ask more questions. Spencer avoided you for the next couple of hours until you decided you both had suffered enough. 

A quiet moment in the coffee kitchen of the police precinct seemed good enough to approach him.

“Hey Spencer,” you said and noticed how he almost jumped at the sound of your voice. 

“H…hi,” he mumbled, his eyes fixated on the floor.

Stepping closer, he finally looked at you for the first time that day. The rosy shade spreading over his cheeks was impossible to ignore. 

“I’m very sorry about the… you know. I didn't mean to send it but I understand if you feel offended by it,” you sincerely told him. 

“I’m not… offended.”

You took a deep breath before you continued talking, “All I want to say is… if you want to discuss this incident with Emily or even HR, I would understand. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable in any way.” 

“No, it’s okay, really,” he lied. “We can just forget about it.” 

Spencer Reid was good at many things. Lying, however, definitely wasn’t his strong suit. You decided to drop the subject for now, aware that talking more about it would probably not make him less uncomfortable. 

The tension between you two was palpable for the rest of the workday. When you stepped into your hotel room that night, you were relieved to finally have a couple of walls between the two of you. 

If this thing didn't resolve soon, you’d have to talk to Emily about it eventually. But there was still hope that it wouldn't come to that. The embarrassment about your mishap was already bad enough as is.

The three knocks on your hotel door startled you. With your heart beating uncomfortably fast, you walked over to the door to find Spencer on the other side. 

He walked into your room without saying a word. Then he began slowly pacing up and down your room, still silent. He looked at you for a second but his sight fell to the floor immediately after that. 

“I uh…” he began before taking a deep breath. “I lied to you earlier.”

“About what?” you wanted to clarify. “Wanting to go to HR?” 

He shook his head. “I said that we can just forget about it but I don’t think I can do that.” 

Your heart felt heavy at his words. His discomfort pained you and you wished nothing more than to be able to take it back. “I’m so sorry Spencer.”

“I deleted the image off my phone but…” he paused to finally look at you. The expression written over his face was hard to read. What you didn't find was the discomfort you expected. Instead he looked… cocky?

He continued, “...it seems like it’s burned into my brain. And I can’t help but wonder, was it really an accident?”

“What?! Of course!” you squeaked. “Believe me, I would never want to send you a picture like that unprompted.”

That was when you saw a subtle smirk on his face. “Interesting choice of words.” 

You thought about it for a moment. Had you really just implied that you would want to send him nudes if he’d ask you to? 

“That's not what I meant,” you tried to brush it off. “And please don’t give me a lecture about Freudian slips.”

His presence filled the room and you felt like you couldn't take deep enough breaths to satiate your need for oxygen. His demeanor was so different from what you were used to and you had trouble wrapping your head around it.

His next question was even more surprising. “Who did you take this picture for?” 

The undertone in his voice was unsettling and you started feeling defensive. “I don’t see how that's any of your business but just for the record, I took it for myself. I do that occasionally to make myself feel good about my body.” 

It seemed as if he was content, almost relieved with your answer. You scanned his body language again and replayed his words in your head. Then it hit you all at once. Spencer was not here to scold you for what you did. 

He was jealous. And he wanted to make sure no one else got to see your picture. 

A grin formed on your face as you realized that you could play this game too.

Your tone was laced with a certain playfulness when you asked, “What did you do after you saw the picture?”

The change of your demeanor seemed to take Spencer by surprise. “I just told you, I deleted it.” 

“I don't think that's all you did.” He audibly gulped and you noticed his cheeks taking on a reddish color. Stepping closer to him, you whispered, “Did you touch yourself, Spencer?”

A shaky breath left his mouth before he confessed, “Yes.”

“Naughty boy,” You teased him. “You really liked that image, hm?” 

Nodding, he took a step forward until there was barely any space between the two of you. “I can't stop thinking about you.”

His words boosted your confidence. “I know I look great in that pic. But I think I would look even better in this lighting right here, don’t you think?” 

Before you could bring to action what you had insinuated, you felt Spencer's hands cupping your face to pull you into a kiss. The surprised gasp escaping your throat was muffled by his lips against yours. 

He kissed you with a fervor that knocked the air out of your lungs. Weakness rushed to your knees and you had to hold onto him to not tumble back. One hand pawed at his shirt while the other one held onto his shoulder. His lips felt soft yet firm against yours. 

When his tongue begged for entrance, you let it. As he deepened the kiss, you could feel heat rushing through body. A few moments ago you really thought you’d have the upper hand in this game you were playing but now realized you were just as pathetic as he was. 

Maybe sending him that image was a Freudian slip of some kind. Or maybe it was just some odd plan the universe had to bring you together. Either way, you were grateful for how things turned out. 

Your hands became curious as they wandered over Spencer’s body. The tingling in your fingertips could only be soothed by feeling his skin underneath them, so they quickly began unbuttoning his shirt. Spencer showed a similar interest in feeling more of you by the way his fingers dropped down to the hem of your shirt. 

Piece after piece both of your clothes fell to the floor, only ever breaking the kiss for as long as necessary. When you stood completely bare in front of one another, you dared to press your body against his to feel him. 

It was impossible to tell who moaned first when his length pressed against your stomach. With a firm grip on his shoulders, you moved him back until his legs made contact with the edge of the bed. You pushed down until he sat on the mattress, staring up at you with a curiosity in his eyes that made your heart jump. 

As you stepped back, his tongue darted out of his mouth to lick over his lips and you wondered if he thought about tasting you. To your surprise, he managed to not break eye contact until you challenged him, “Go on, take a look.”

His sight scanned your body, lingering on your breasts for a second before moving further down, taking everything in. You couldn’t hold back from looking at him, too. A rosy color had spread all over his cheeks and chest and when you dared to drop your eyes to his cock, you noticed how it twitched slightly against his thigh. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he cooed when your eyes met again. 

“Better than the image?” you teased, smirking at him. 

He only nodded before looking at your body again. It was like he was mesmerized, as if a miracle had just unfolded right before him. It became obvious that he was ready to worship you if you’d let him. But first, you had something else in your mind. 

“Show me exactly what you did when you saw my picture,” you told him. 

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Wh… what?” 

“Don’t be shy now,” you snickered. “Come on, I wanna see how pretty you think I am.” 

The sweet smile on your face seemed to encourage him enough to let his right hand move towards his hardness. It was as if he needed reassurance when he found your eyes and you nodded.

He wrapped his fingers around his cock, giving himself a squeeze and you watched as precum spilled over the tip. Slowly, he began moving his fist up and down his length, swiping his thumb over the head each time he got to the top. The groan that slipped from his lips could only be described as absolutely sinful. 

You couldn’t deny how much the sight in front of you turned you on. Spencer was so incredibly beautiful and the thought that your body had the ability to make him feral like that drove you insane. 

Arousal gathered at your entrance the longer you watched him. This show was no longer enough for you, you needed more. Your hands found the curve of your chest, gently kneading them before your fingers began toying with your hardened peaks. Spencer’s eyes were fixated on your hands, his mouth hanging wide open and unabashedly moaning at the sight while accelerating the pace of his hand. 

Then suddenly, he stopped and got up from bed. Desperation was written all over his face when he looked at you. 

“Please,” he begged as he stepped closer. “I need to touch you.” 

It was everything you wanted right then, too. 

“I’m all yours, Spencer.” 

His mouth was on yours in an instant and he didn’t waste any time to move you over to the bed to push you onto the mattress. He followed quickly, towering over you as he kissed down your neck, making you moan in anticipation of what would follow. 

He moved further down your body, kissing and nipping on the tender flesh of your breasts before focusing his attention on your nipples. The sensation was almost unbearable and you could feel how your arousal began coating the insides of your thighs. 

Spencer smiled against your skin when he noticed you rocking your hips against his leg every so slightly. His confidence grew as he realized that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. 

“Needy,” he chuckled as he kissed down your stomach. “That’s cute.” 

Right then you couldn’t care less about being in charge, you just wanted to be taken care of. When his lips brushed over your inner thigh, you opened your legs further to give him better access. He lay down between your legs and didn’t waste any time before he began leaving feather light kisses against your folds. 

You watched as he licked his own lips, tasting your essence on them before he found your eyes. 

“You’re so wet,” he teased and let a finger move along your slit. “Is that all for me?” 

He expected a witty response, like you telling him to bring his mouth to good use for once. So it took him by surprise when you simply sighed, “Yes.” 

There was no more game to play. No more back and forth of who was in charge. It was just the two of you, equally as desperate to finally do what you both had been dreaming of for weeks.

“Good,” Spencer whispered, his hot breath tickling your core, before he finally granted you some relief. 

His tongue moved through your folds, collecting your taste before he focussed on your most sensitive spot. He experimented with different motions for a few moments, paying attention to your reactions until he found what you enjoyed the most. Your hand flew to his hair, your fingers intertwining with his curls to hinder him from moving away – even though he had no intention to do so, anyway. 

With one arm wrapped around your thigh he hindered you from bucking uncontrollably against his face while his other hand found your entrance, letting two fingers slip into you with ease. He moved with great precision, adjusting the angle and the pace according to your reactions, bringing you closer to your breaking point with every second passing. 

The sounds of your pleasure filled the room as you began dancing along the brink of euphoria. With just a few more skillful motions, he pushed you over it. Your walls pulsed around his fingers while your entire body shook. He worked you through your orgasm before he lay back down beside you, placing a gentle kiss against your lips. 

You were still panting when you found his eyes. The warm amber of his irises was almost completely swallowed by his pupils, the lust visible in his eyes contradicting the saccharine smile he showed you. 

“You okay?” he breathed as he wrapped one arm around your waist. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed while one of your hands moved down his body. 

Tentatively, you let your fingertips brush along his length, feeling his velvety skin under your touch. “Now what are we gonna do with you?” you purred as you wrapped your fingers tightly around him, making him gasp. 

With a torturously slow pace, you moved along his cock. “Tell me, Spencer. What do you want?” 

“I uhm…,” he audibly swallowed. “I have a condom in my pocket.” 

The fact that he brought a condom to your hotel room when he came over early amused you. He never had any intention of just talking to you. 

“So, you want to fuck me?” 

“Yes,” he admitted unabashedly. “If you want that, too, of course.”

With a nod you confirmed that that was exactly what you wanted as well. Right after you let go of him, he grabbed his pants from the floor to take out the foil wrapper. You watched as he ripped it open and carefully rolled down the condom. 

Then, he kneeled down between your legs, taking a moment to admire the beauty of the woman in front of him. 

“Come here,” you cooed and he leaned over you without hesitation. 

Reaching between your bodies, you guided him to your entrance. He closed his eyes when he slowly entered you, relishing the sensation of stretching you open inch by inch. When he was fully inside you, he kissed you before he began moving with slow thrusts.

Wrapping your legs around his hips, you brought him even closer. When he was sure that you could take it, he accelerated his pace, fucking you against the mattress until you were sure you would lose your mind. 

Spencer’s body began trembling and he suddenly stopped moving. 

“Sorry, I’m really close,” he whined and tried to pull out slightly. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded as you kept him in place with your legs around him. “Please, I need it.”

One of your hands moved down to where your bodies were joined to desperately draw circles around your little nub, making you clench hard around his hardness. 

“Fuck,” he whimpered as he began moving again. “I can’t, ah–” 

With just a few more deep thrusts Spencer came, his cock twitching inside you as his whole body shook. It was enough to throw you over edge too, entering a state of pure bliss together with him. After you had both come down from your high, you welcomed him inside your embrace, your fingertips gently dancing over his back as he caught his breath. 

For the sake of getting cleaned up you separated for a few moments, only to lay back down together soon after. A shaky breath fell from Spencer’s lips and caught your attention. 

“So…,” he began talking but didn’t continue. 

You propped yourself up on one elbow to find his eyes. “Yeah?”

“I wanted to ask if maybe–” 

“You want me to send you that pic again?” you interrupted him with a grin on your face. 

“No,” he laughed. “I mean… that’s not what I wanted to say.”

Still in a teasing mood, you snickered, “But you would like to see that pic again?”

“You know what,” he chuckled as he lifted the blanket to get a peek at your naked body. “I think I actually prefer this.”

“Good,” you chirped. “If you want to see more of me you’ll have to take me on a date though.”

Placing a soft kiss on your lips, he whispered, “Deal.”

Thank you for reading! Please like, reblog and leave a comment to show your support and help me stay motivated to write more stories!

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings

[nanaslutt]

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

the finale to my mini series of “toji takes it up the ass” featuring the one and only, the lovely, mamaguro!!

“this feels fucking weird.” toji grumbles, knees parted to allow his wife between them.

“don’t curse at me.” mamaguro snaps, pouting while rubbing the lubed tip of the dildo against his hole. “you already stretched your-“

“we don’t have to talk about that right now.” toji cut in, running his hand through his hair while averting his eyes. if he would have known marriage meant letting a woman half his size put on a silicone cock and fuck his ass… well… he probably wouldn’t have changed anything because he’s head over heels for this woman and would unfortunately do anything for her.

but fuck, did she have to have such strange fetishes?

“you know, i like seeing you like this.” she teases, situating herself between his thighs better, trying to get a hang of the strap on.

toji flinches when she presses the head harder against him. “ur just a masochist.” toji grunts, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth when the head of the dildo pops in.

she smiles, a beautiful, irritatingly annoying smile. “don’t like getting a taste of your own medicine, toji?” her eyes fall back to his ass, watching him swallow the toy. “woah, you really did stretch yourself out.” she says in awe when it slides halfway in.

tojis heavy cock bobs against his abdomen, leaking pre-cum like a faucet when she bumps into a special spot inside him. she doesn’t seem to notice him tense, as she keeps pushing it in.

“woah… okay. it’s in, how does it feel?”

when she looks back up, she’s greeted with the sight of her husband biting his fist wish his eyes screwed shut, an iron grip on the base of his cock that won’t stop dripping.

“toji?”

“just- just move.” he grunts breathily.

looking back down at his hole, she places her hands on either side of his body like he does to her, and slowly pulls it out before thrusting back in. it feels a bit weird for her at first, and it seems harder to move at times for some reason.

“toji, is this okay? i don’t know how to use a dick.” she says, slightly giggling.

toji groans and grips her hips, warm hands making her skin burn. “roll your hips up.” he says, pulling her through the motions, helping her fuck him for some god forsaken reason. “aim upwards like you’re trying to touch the-“ he bites his tongue when she hits that spot again.

“was that your prostate, toji?” mamaguro asks, breathing heavily. she’s getting wet just from looking at him, the sight is too erotic.

“how the fuck should i know.” he grunts, removing one of his hands on her hips to grip his cock again.

mamaguro cocks her head and narrows her eyes before doing exactly as he said, rolling her hips in a wavelike motion while aiming upwards. she goes rough on purpose, starting a punishing pace though it’s a bit exhausting already. “i said dont curse at me.” she chastises. “i have a dildo in your ass, i don’t think you want to be mean to me right now.”

toji unwillingly releases a moan, a sound he rarely ever makes. because it’s fucking embarrassing.

he can’t help it when she’s stabbing his fucking prostate with the silicone. an ache forms in his stomach each time she does, it’s hot and heavy and feels like his whole lower half is being stimulated. much different than just touching his cock. and much more intense, by far.

toji clenched his jaw and squeezed his tip, trying to ignore the pleasure, but his eyes unconsciously roll back with each thrust.

“you doin okay?” she teases, smiling before she presses a hand to his chest and trails it down his body. when she stops just under his cock and presses down on his stomach, the strongest wave of pleasure washes over him.

“oh fuck-“ he grunts, his hand gripping her waist tighter.

“toji?” she asks, not slowing her thrusts.

“m-move- fuck- move your fucking h-hand.” words are hard. words are never this hard during sex, but for some reason, he can’t form them each time she puts pressure on his stomach.

“this one?” he wasn’t sure if she knew what she was doing before, but now he knows she’s being a brat on purpose when she presses down hard, and slams the dildo into him.

toji throws his head back and releases his cock to slap a hand over his mouth, covering the pathetic sound that came out.

“fuck, toji.” her abdomen burns from thrusting, and her thighs are sore, but she’s determined to hear that sound again. wrapping a hand around his cock, she jerks it in time with her thrusts and sits back on her heels, humping at his prostate brutally.

“babe-“ tojis words are rushed and he inhales strongly and grips her wrist, stopping her from jerking him off.

“toji let go.”

he shakes his head, so she narrows her eyes and does the only sane thing. putting all of her weight down on his stomach, she fucks the strap into his ass and strokes him off despite his protests.

“fuck- oh my godddd-“ his dick leaks all over her fingers and his head falls back limply, eyes rolled to the back of his head. “you’re- oh shit i’m- you’re in so much trouble f-for-“

“would you just stop talking? jeez. it’s clearly not working very well for you.” she smirks, her hand sloppily jerking his cock. “just take it like a good boy.” when he groans she snickers, loving the feeling of him helpless.

“c-cum- babe. babe it’s too much.” toji’s chin falls back down to stare at her, and there’s a sudden vulnerability in his eyes that makes her stop teasing… only for a moment, though she doesn’t stop her hips nor her hand.

“you’re okay toji, don’t fight it. i know it’s a lot, baby.”

he grits his teeth and keeps his eyes on her. “can’t- god.” his face is so flushed and his head falls back in defeat, obviously embarrassed out of his mind.

“uh huh, yes you can. you’re almost there-“

toji shocks her by grabbing the back of her head and pulling her against his lips. she momentarily stutters in her thrusts but it’s quick to catch up. “kiss me through it.” he pants, a seriousness in his eyes.

with a nod and a verrryyy small, proud smile, she locks her lips with his. his grunts and whines come free now, and she swallows them all down, nodding and whispering encouragement against his lips.

his legs shake around her and his back bows when she pegs his prostate for the final time and he spills between them. she jerks him off through in, breaking their kiss to look between their bodies at his cock that is drenching his torso.

“nggghhh- ugh-“ his moans are so loud, and she’s eating up every last one.

when he comes down and taps her wrist, signaling her to stop, she sits up and stars down at the mess that is now her husband.

when toji opens his eyes, he throws his arm over his forehead and stares at her like she killed his cat, making her smile widen. “sooooo, how did you like it?”

“you’re fucking mean.” he says, borderline pouting.

she laughs, slowly pulling out the strap and making him groan in discomfort. “i was channeling my inner toji.” she teases, wiggling out of the harness.

she plops down on top of him, her large tits squished against his chest as she places her elbows on his pecs and plops her face in her hand, smiling.

“how can such a small thing be so ruthless.” toji grunts, a scowl on his face while he flicks her nose.

“i learned from the best.”

he wraps his arm around her lithe waist, squishing their bodies together. she grimaces when she feels his cum rub all over her.

toji noticed her pull a face and licks her nose, making her pout. “it’s cum, get over it. you made it happen so you suffer the consequences.”

mamaguro heaves a sigh and locks eyes with him. “so…. really… how did u like taking it up the ass?”

toji is quiet for a moment, before he flips her around and pins her body to the sheets. she laughs as he wraps his arms under her back and assaults her neck with kisses and bites. “so fucking mean, you should stay away from me.”

she giggles, caressing his sweaty back. “never.”

[lovelivision]

BAD ROMANCE.ᐟ

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: gojo satoru/reader

𝐖𝐂: 9.4k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: your love life is in a tragic state, all your dates go poorly and just when you think you found a nice guy you could like, that ends poorly too. good thing you have your best friend gojo to look out for you !

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, f!reader, she/her pronouns used, cheating (not done by reader or gojo), dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, spitting, praise, p in v sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, big dick!gojo, tease/mean!gojo (he likes embarrassing reader), jealous!gojo, gojo is down BAD, use of pet names, that's all !! (i think :3)

Checking the time again, you sigh, it’s bordering on an hour since you first sat down to wait for your date. The thought that you had been stood up entered your mind maybe half an hour ago but now it’s practically been cemented.

Maybe you should just cut your losses and leave but this is a nice place, it’d be a shame to waste the reservation. Hope that your date is going to miraculously show up has left you though. Opening your texts, you think of who to message, the idea to message Gojo briefly crossing your mind before you decide he is the worst possible person to tell about this.

Instead, you message Shoko, asking if she’s free and telling her of your failed date. It takes her a few minutes to reply and when she does, instead of a straightforward response, you receive a cryptic and ambiguous saluting emoji. Deciding to take that as confirmation of her presence, you begin waiting… again.

You think you’ve reached your waiting quota of the year, no more waiting on people. Why do people never seem to value your time? While lamenting to yourself silently, you don’t notice the arrival of someone incredibly familiar, someone incredibly exasperating.

“I’m hurt you know.”

The words startle you and as you look up to find the source of them, you’re confronted with Gojo standing beside you. Pouting like he’s feeling extremely slighted by you for some indiscernible reason.

You almost sputter at him, his presence completely unexpected, “What are you doing here?”

He ignores your question, continuing with his faux pain, “My best friend gets stood up and instead of messaging me… she messages Shoko? That stings.”

Sighing off his dramatics, you ask again, “What are you doing here, Gojo?”

“What else would I be here for?” He smiles big at you, moving to sit in the chair opposite you, flopping down and making himself comfortable, “I’m here to be your date!”

Propping your head up on your hand, you grumble at him, “How did you even know I was stood up?”

“I was with Shoko when you messaged her,” he shrugs easily.

You squint at him, “Why are you here and not her?”

“Because it is my duty as your best friend to be there for you.”

So stubborn about the weirdest things, you’ve known each other forever and sure, maybe he is your best friend, but this is something that has bruised your ego a bit. It’s silly, but for some reason… you don’t really want for Gojo to see you like this.

Sulking, you huff, “It’s not a big deal, I just didn’t wanna waste the reservation.”

“Don’t lie, you dressed up all cute and the dude couldn’t even be bothered to show up?” He frowns like he’ll get angry if he thinks about it for too long, “It’s a big deal.”

“You’re more upset about it then I am,” you play at indifference and while you don’t really care about your failed date, you are thinking really hard about how he said you dressed cute.

“That’s just ‘cause you’re always settling for less than what you deserve,” he grows a little more irritated, like his observation annoys him more than it annoys you.

Defending yourself with a grumble, “That’s not true.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he smiles in a manner that exudes disbelief. Because it does, Gojo has witnessed you settle for less nearly every single day of your lives and every time he has to grit his teeth and cope.

Crossing your arms, you snark at him, “Don’t patronise me, Gojo.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he still has that smile plastered on his face.

You glare at him from across the table but sit in silence, not really having anything else to say to him right now. Annoyed at yourself for losing the back and forth between the two of you for not the first time and definitely not the last.

Gojo, however, is not capable of sitting in silence for too long and so, he whines at you, “Anyways, I thought I was always your first call when things went wrong.”

Looking away from him, you scratch at the back of your neck awkwardly, “You are… for other things.”

Catching onto your meaning, he asks, “So, you never call me when things go wrong on dates?”

“…Correct.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not really something I thought would matter to you this much.” The truth is, you’ve been on much worse dates, dates where they actually show up but prove themselves to be some of the worst people. You always call Shoko though… that or you just brush it off.

Telling Gojo about your dating life feels weird, it’s not like he tells you about his.

His mouth downturns at your remark, “Anything that involves you matters to me.”

“It’s not like you tell me about your dating life,” you counter, starting to feel somewhat badly.

“I would, if I had one,” he leans back into his chair more, “I’m not currently dating though.”

Sheepishly, you say, “Oh…well…I am.”

“I know that now,” his eyes focus on you, “Just how many dates have you gone on recently?”

“Recently?” he nods at you, “Uhm… a few every couple of weeks, not heaps but… frequently enough that getting stood up isn’t the worst thing to happen to me lately.” You laugh slightly at a memory, “You know, on one of them, the guy actually got back with his ex during our date, like he–”

You cut yourself off when you realise Gojo isn’t experiencing the same amount of enjoyment at the recounting of your date a few weeks ago. “Why is this bugging you?”

“It’s not,” his tone is certain but the expression he’s wearing is anything but. Clearly annoyed by something.

Challenging his logic, you ask, “Do you want me to tell you about my dating life?”

He thinks on it for a second, “No.”

Tilting your head at him, “See? That’s what I thought–”

“–But I want you to call me when things go badly,” his gaze even on you, unwavering.

“You’re annoying,” you huff out a breath.

His face brightens up again, “And yet I’m still your best friend.”

You can only roll your eyes at him because he’s right, he’s completely annoying and also completely your best friend.

★

After that failed date that turned into you having dinner with Gojo, you decided you would listen to him and call him whenever a date goes south. He seemed actually bothered by the fact you weren’t relying on him more, so you decided that if something does go wrong, you’d tell him about it.

However, your dating life has been going pretty swimmingly the past couple weeks. You’ve actually found someone you wouldn’t mind being with, having gone on a few dates with him now. You’ve pretty much been exclusively seeing him, he’s taken you out for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Previous dates barely made it through one meal, but this guy managed to appeal to you enough to take you out multiple times.

It’s your fault that you got your hopes up, thinking that maybe he was different but as you sit on the couch in his apartment, his assumed girlfriend yelling at him, you can see he’s just like everyone else in the dating scene these days. It’s that or you just have really bad luck when it comes to your romantic life.

For the third time, you try to leave but he holds you back, “Wait no, please don’t go, this is just a misunderstanding!”

You shrug him off you, his touch making you feel disgusting.

Going to say something in reply, but his girlfriend speaks first, “So now you’re cheating on me and trying to keep her here?”

He sputters, like he forgot she was here for a moment, “No! Babe, I’m not cheating on you!”

Awkwardly, you scratch at the back of your neck, “Listen, I’m going to be so honest, I think you’re a bad person and any interest I had in you is gone. I’d just really like to leave now.”

He’s wearing an annoyed look on his face, “How do you even expect to get home? I drove you here.”

She scoffs at him from by the door, foot tapping impatiently, “Now you’re offering her a ride home? Are you fucking serious right now?”

Walking to the front door, you shuffle around his girlfriend, “I’m just gonna… slide right past you.” Pausing after opening the door and turning back to address her, “Uhm… Just in case he tries lying to you… we went on multiple dates over the past couple weeks.” Standing awkwardly for an extra moment as her face twists in realisation, “Bye!” You rush out the door, speed walking to the elevator.

The screaming and yelling gets louder from their apartment, able to hear them until you finally get in the elevator and start heading down to the ground floor. In the lobby, you pull out your phone and sigh dejectedly, scrolling for Gojo’s contact, you need a ride home.

He picks up pretty quickly, “Hello?”

You get straight to the point, not feeling particularly great right about now, “…I need a ride home.”

“Well, good evening to you too,” he replies, voice full of mirth, “You know. people normally exchange pleasantries over the phone before immediately asking for things, I’ve been told – by you actually – that just asking for things straight up can be read as rude, so–”

“–Satoru.”

The use of his name has him going quiet, stopping his tangent instead to ask, “Where are you?”

You’re tired, your mood travelling through the phone as you answer, “Some apartment, I’ll text you the address…”

“You okay?” He checks.

You can’t help the pause before your reply, “…Yeah.”

His concern for you growing at your seeming uncertainty, “You gonna tell me what happened?”

It’s a little embarrassing, you think, but yeah, you’ll tell him about it, “Later… I just wanna go home now.”

“Alright, I’ll be there soon.” He hangs up before you get to thank him.

You text him the address and then head out the front of the building, waiting for him to get you. While you’re waiting, you find yourself wondering if that girl will stay with him, you hope she doesn’t, she deserves better than him.

When Gojo pulls up, you silently slip into the passenger seat, you’re expecting him to immediately drive away but he turns and looks at you. His eyes examining you carefully, scrutinising you.

Turning your head to the side, “What?”

“Just making sure you’re okay.” His hands reach out and for a second you think he’s going to touch you, but he pulls on the seatbelt and clicks it into place for you.

You mumble out at him, dismissive, “I’m fine.”

He hums at you, in that way that tells you he doesn’t believe you even a little bit but he’s letting it go for now. Instead focusing on getting you home.

Back at your apartment, Gojo follows you all the way inside, you thought maybe he would just drop you home and leave you alone, but he’s followed you into your living room. You don’t know if you have the energy for him right now, feeling so drained. Probably feeling this way because you’re incapable of finding a decent guy to date.

Couch looking so inviting, you flop down onto it face first, mumbling out, “Gojo, will you just be my boyfriend?”

He seems taken aback by your sudden ask, choking on his own spit, coughing out a confused, “What?”

Sighing, you cryptically answer, “I don’t think I’m built for the dating scene.”

When he finishes hacking up a lung, he taps your legs, to which you hold them up so he can sit down. His hand tugging them back down once he’s sat, “What happened, sweetheart?”

Your voice is still muffled by the couch cushions, “Been seeing a guy for a couple weeks now–”

“–The same one?” Gojo cuts you off.

Humming out a, “Yes and–”

Again, he cuts you off, “–That’s pretty serious…”

I know but­–”

“–Why didn’t you tell me about him?” His tone growing slightly alarmed by the apparent seriousness of your dating life.

Becoming somewhat annoyed, you push yourself out of the cushions and sit up to face him, your legs still resting in his lap, “You said you didn’t wanna hear about my dating life.” You point an accusatory finger at him.

“Yeah, but casually dating and actively seeing someone is different–��� He’s not really sure if he’s making a fair point or not but sticking to it like he is.

“–Does it matter?” You’re looking at him incredulously, not sure if there is a difference.

He’s steadfast in his opinion, “Of course it matters.”

“I don’t think it should, especially since–”

“–If you’re seeing the same guy multiple times that means you were actually interested in him­–” He’s annoyed at himself for not realising you were seeing the same guy, for not asking questions, not realising how serious you were getting about one guy. So caught up in this one fact that he’s lost sight of his original purpose of being here.

“–Can you stop cutting me off!” You raise your voice at him, getting sick of how much he’s been interrupting you, “I’ve been trying to tell you that he had a girlfriend the whole time,” you purse your lips and look away from him, feeling embarrassed, “That’s why I asked you to come get me.”

“Oh…” He feels bad now.

“…Yeah, she showed up while I was there, and it was really uncomfortable, and I didn’t exactly feel safe.” You sigh, slumping, “And now I just feel really bad about dating.”

Completely serious when he suggests, “Maybe you should stop.”

“Stop dating?”

Consistent in his confirmation, “Yes.”

Meeting his gaze again, “How else am I going to meet someone?”

He rolls his eyes at your question, irritated for reasons unknown to you, “Why do you need to date someone now anyways?”

You don’t really see his point, what does he mean ‘why?’… why else do people date? “Maybe I’m lonely, maybe I seek companionship, maybe I’m like every other normal person?”

“You have me though,” you’d think he was joking if he weren’t so straight faced.

Unsure how to go about answering when it seems pretty straight forward to you, “Gojo… that’s not the same thing, we’re friends, we don’t look at each other that way.”

“Says you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’d date you in a heartbeat,” he folds his arms over his chest, “In fact, you’re the only person I want to date.”

You can’t tell if he’s teasing or not, “Get real, that’s not what I meant.”

His head tilts at you, “What did you mean then?”

“I’m talking about romantic and sexual attraction,” you’re avoiding his gaze again.

So casual in how he bluntly asks, “You think I’m not sexually attracted to you?”

His question catches you off guard slightly, “It’s not just about sexual attraction, Gojo,” you shake your head, “if that were the case, I’d just be having one night stands all the time, I want a relationship with someone…”

He nods his head like he suddenly understands, “Ah, so you think I’m not romantically interested in you?”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

Disbelieving when you look at him, “Are you serious right now? We’re friends.”

“Yeah, we are friends, but I also happen to be romantically and sexually attracted to you.”

How do you even respond to a confession like that? He’s not even flustered, completely nonchalant in how he’s just told you that he’s interested in you. “I don’t think–”

“–Are you going to tell me you’re not interested in me? Even a little bit?”

“We’re friends.”

“Is that the only thing stopping you?” He doesn’t wait for your answer, “Because if it is, then it’s a little arbitrary, no?”

The beginning of a frown settles on your features, “What are you trying to get me to say? That I’d date you if we weren’t friends, that I’d fuck you?”

He smiles at you, “Sure, but if you would if we weren’t friends, I’m saying you should even though we are.”

Frown deepening, “You’re being serious?”

“I’m being so serious,” he leans in slightly, hand moving to your face, thumb smoothing over the crease between your brows.

Looking at his lips before catching yourself and turning your head to the side, away from his touch, away from his enticing lips.

He sighs at your reaction, “You know, I’ve been interested in you from the beginning, and maybe I’m an idiot for not saying anything but watching you seriously try dating someone else might just kill me.”

You had no idea he liked you, you’ve liked him at different points in your life too, but he always seemed so out of reach from you, and you never wanted to ruin the friendship, so you forced yourself to move on. It feels a little unfair that you’re finding out now he’s liked you the whole time, “What are you asking of me?”

“I’m asking you to give me a chance,” his hand gently guides your face to look at him again, “I’m asking you to seriously try dating me.”

You’re trying to make a decision, trying to figure out how to answer him, if you should even give him a chance but the way he’s looking at you, how his gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips is distracting you.

Brows pulling up, voice quieter than before, “Gojo, you need to stop looking at me like that if you want an answer.”

“Like what?” He plays dumb.

“Like you really wanna kiss me,” you murmur back.

“Can’t help it…” he leans in a little bit more, “Maybe if you let me kiss you, I’ll stop.”

“Satoru,” you warn.

“Hmm?” His eyes meet yours for a moment, trying to see what you want.

He’s making you dizzy, “I can’t make a choice when you’re this close.”

Humming at you, “Why not?”

“Can’t think,” you blurt it out before really thinking about how it will come across.

He’s smiling smugly, “Then don’t.”

You don’t know who leans in first, all you know is his lips are on yours and they’re soft. Kissing you gently, trying to learn how you like to be kissed. Growing more insistent the longer you let him kiss you, the years of his need bleeding into it.

One of his hands traveling down your body, resting on your hip, the other cradling your face. He’s leaning into you more, pushing your body down into the couch, him following behind it, never parting from your lips very long.

Hand now holding himself above you, kiss growing urgent, tongue licking into your mouth, meeting yours in a way that makes your body tingle. If you thought his proximity was making you dizzy before than his kiss might have you actually passing out. Skin growing hot at how his hand on your face angles you, how he deepens the kiss effortlessly.

If Gojo were more aware of himself, of the precarious position he’s put himself in, he might be a little bit more careful with how feverish his kisses are and how needy he’s getting but when he’s finally getting to kiss you after years of not being able to, he can’t really control himself. The little control he does have, slipping when you moan into his mouth, his own moan shared in the kiss.

It's you who parts the kiss, it had to be because he certainly wasn’t going to be able to do it. If he had his way, he’d have his mouth on you until he died. In the back of his mind, he knew that kissing you would be good, but he didn’t think he’d get so lost in it. Somewhat embarrassed at himself for how aroused he’s gotten over your lips on his.

Your huffed breaths are intermingled with how close you both are to each other, Gojo hovering over you, speaking into your mouth, “Have you made a decision yet?”

You’re having trouble thinking still, especially with how his lips brush ever so slightly against yours, “I…uhmm…”

When he realises how dazed you are, two things happen. One; his ego grows about ten times bigger and two; he pulls back from you, still close enough that if you tugged on him, you could kiss him again but enough to hopefully give you room to think.

“Come on, don’t keep a guy waiting,” he’s taunting you lightly, taking joy in how hazy your eyes are as you look up at him.

“Okay,” you nod.

“Hmm? Okay what?”

Taking another moment to clear your brain fog, you answer again, “Okay, I will seriously try dating you.”

“Can’t date anyone else while you do,” he conditions.

“Okay,” agreeing easily.

He adds, “Have to seriously think about me being your boyfriend.”

Again, agreeing, “Okay.”

“Have to keep kissing me right now,” smile growing on his features.

“Ok–” frowning at him when you realise, “–Hey.”

“You don’t want to?” His hand tilts your head up by your chin, looking down into your eyes, “Because you look like you want to.”

Pouting at him, “Don’t be cruel.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” his smile evil as he continues to look down at you.

Leveling him with an even stare, you state, “I don’t sleep with guys on the first date.”

“Got a dirty mind, huh? All I asked for was a kiss.”

You glare at him and then try to avoid his gaze, voice smaller than before, “You don’t kiss like that’s all you want.”

His smile is crooked as he asks, “And how do I kiss?”

Feeling your skin flare at his taunting question, at how he leans in again, his mouth right over yours, “Dizzyingly.”

He breathes out an amused laugh before he’s slotting his mouth back over yours, how you described his kiss is accurate. He kisses you in such a way that you can’t think straight even if you really want to, which is why it’s probably a bad idea to keep letting him kiss you if you don’t want to sleep with him before you even get a first date.

Abruptly parting your mouth from his, gasping out, “Wait,” taking a second to catch your breath. Gojo groans softly at the loss of your lips, his forehead resting on yours waiting for you to speak.

“What’s wrong?” He asks when you don’t continue.

“You need to stop kissing me.”

“Oh?” He hums at you in thought, his lips now trailing down the side of your face, only to rest right by your ear, “And why’s that?”

His voice has goose bumps raising on your skin, “If you keep kissing me like that…” your volume gets quieter as you mumble out, “…I’ll wanna have sex with you.”

He has the fucking audacity to laugh at you, “That worked up by a few kisses, huh?” Taunting you like he isn’t the hardest he’s ever been, cock twitching at your confession.

“Shuddup.”

His words are dripping with delight, “At least we know you’re sexually attracted to me.”

He licks lightly at your ear, and you feel like you almost jump out of your skin, gasping at it. Hands reaching out to push back on his chest, “You’re a mean man, Gojo.”

“At this point…” He looks you over, unmoved by your hands, “…I think it would be meaner to deprive yourself.”

“We are not sleeping together for the first time on my couch before we even go on a date,” you’re trying to stay steadfast but he’s making it hard when he keeps looking at you like that.

“So… you’re saying I should take you to the bedroom?” When you look at him in exasperation, he smiles softly, “I’m just kidding, we won’t do anything you don’t want to, but I will point out – for the last time – that you look an awful lot like you want to.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to… I just feel like if you’re gonna make me seriously consider you then I should date you properly too,” you avoid his gaze, feeling unusually sincere.

Abruptly, he states, “It wouldn’t be our first date though.”

“What?”

He’s a little distant when he answers, having trouble concentrating on the conversation when you’re pouting your lips at him like you are, “I count a couple weeks ago as our first date.”

“When I was stood up?” You scoff, “That does not count.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t even planned.”

“No but we ate dinner together and you were dressed awful cute, I count it as a date,” smirk present on his face as he continues to hover over you.

Ignoring his compliment, you continue to try and reason, “We were still just friends then though.”

“So, we aren’t ‘just friends’ now?” He’s being a smart ass, he knows what you mean but he’s not going to let up on this, taking it as a small victory in making you think of him as more than just a friend.

You return earnestly, “I don’t wanna count it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t meant to be you on that date…” before he can get hurt over those words, you clarify, “…don’t get me wrong, I had fun and I’m glad you showed up, but it wasn’t planned to be you… when we go on our first date… I want it to be meant for you.” You’re unsure if you verbalised yourself in a way that makes sense, feeling much more nervous all of a sudden.

He’s looking at you so intently and you’re worried you’ve upset him somehow, “I know you said I need to stop kissing you, but that’s what I want more than anything right now.” He leans in closer, pausing just shy of your lips.

His words make your heart stutter, throwing caution to the wind as you close the distance between the two of you again, kissing him fully. Letting his mouth consume your ability to think critically, all too happy to fall into him.

Your control of the situation is slipping more and more away from you and so is the ability to care, not minding at all how you’re becoming more and more okay with how hot your body is starting to feel.

Hands reaching up and fisting the material of his shirt, pulling him down into you, his hips colliding with yours. Almost entirely instinctually – and somewhat purposefully – your legs wrap around his lower half. One of his hands reaches for your thigh, gripping the fattest part of it harshly.

You both moan into the kiss and he parts his mouth from yours, voice straining when he speaks, “Sweetheart, if you really don’t want to do anything more than this then you need to tell me to get off you right now.”

Looking at him through your lashes, you play coy, “But I like having you on top of me.”

A shiver runs down his spine, “You’re evil,” he grunts, fighting the urge to grind down into you.

He’s been pining after you for years and it feels like torture to be this close to you, pelvis pressed up against yours, having you so pliant and needy under him. He can feel his sanity slipping from him the longer you stay like this, and your words make it harder for him to pull away.

“Satoru–” when you say his name his hips jut into yours, making you gasp against him.

He hisses an apology through his teeth, “Sorry – fuck – sorry, what’s up?”

Deciding to be forward, “Take me to my room?”

Trying to hide the excitement from his face, he checks with you, “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you give a small nod, feeling shy.

You really do want to though, more than anything. Only initially so hesitant because this doesn’t feel like the right way to do things but then again, your whole relationship with Gojo is a little less than conventional at times.

When he determines that you’re sure of yourself, he’s off you in the blink of an eye. Quick in his movements as he pulls you up along with him. Before you can even really register that you’re off the couch, you’re thrown over his shoulder as he walks hurriedly to your room.

“Someone’s eager,” you laugh at how ridiculous he’s being.

The chuckle he returns is humourless, “You have no fucking idea.”

You’re dropped down onto your bed unceremoniously, bouncing slightly at the force of it. Your arms reach out behind you to support yourself, palms splayed against your bedspread. Gojo is already tugging his shirt off and over his head, thrown and lost to some corner of your room.

“Gojo, breathe.”

“Don’t need to breathe,” he smiles large at you, “Do need your pants off though.”

Listening to him, you shimmy your pants down your legs, mumbling to him about how bossy he is.

“You know… I’m hearing a lot of complaining but I am also seeing a whole lot of direction following,” he teases.

You grumble at him, “If you’re going to be like this the whole time then I’m changing my mind.

“Don’t lie to yourself, sweetheart. You’re not fooling anyone, especially not with how you’re rubbing your thighs together.” His large hands grip your thighs, “Feeling horny?”

You don’t really want to answer him honestly but denying it feels like a trap, like he’d do something to prove you wrong and the last thing you want is for him to torture you. You’re already so pitifully slick from kissing him.

Fighting with your embarrassment, you give him your best pleading face, “Mhm, really horny.”

The smugness drops from his face, hands suddenly tugging you down the bed as he drops to his knees. Mouth leaving kisses from your knees to your inner thighs, your breath catching in your lungs. Not expecting him to be so forward, though you don’t know what you were expecting if not that.

“Gojo, you don’t have to–”

“I want to,” his eyes flick to yours, “Plus, if you wanna take me, you’re gonna need the prep,” smile growing at how your eyes grow wider.

Disbelief clear in your expression, accusing, “You’re full of it.”

He’s not worried about your scepticism, “You’ll find out for yourself in a bit.” He shrugs easily, “Now, can I put my tongue on your pretty pussy, or do you have more to say?”

He asks but his attention is already completely on your covered cunt, a single finger moving under the elastic of the waist band just to snap it back against you. A small noise of shock leaving you, “Ah! Do what you want…”

Oh, he looks so excited by your words, “You mean it?”

You’ll be honest and admit you weren’t really paying attention to what you were saying, brain hazy with how close he is to your core, skin pricking at how you can feel his hot breath against you. Feeling so unusually exposed and sensitive and you can’t tell if you’re that worked up or if he just has that effect on you.

“Mhm,” you’re nodding your head at him, giving him a green light, for what, you’re not entirely sure, all you know is that you want him to do something – anything.

“These are some really cute panties…kinda bothers me,” he’s still playing with the edges of them, annoyed when remembering you were with another guy tonight. Were you going to sleep with him tonight?

Pulling yourself up onto your elbows, you question, “What?”

Eyes flicking towards yours, “I’m a bit of a jealous guy.”

“I know this,” he always has been quick to get worked up over things regarding you, though it makes a little more sense after learning he’s liked you for so long.

He smiles at you, but his eyes are humourless, “Of course you do,” he fists at the material of your panties, “But the idea of another guy getting so close to seeing you in these… has me feeling really annoyed.”

The sound of fabric tearing fills your ears, he’s just ripped your panties off you completely. There is no salvaging them, completely useless as he throws them over his shoulder.

“Hey! those were my good pair!” They were one of the nicer pairs you own.

“Who cares about that?” His tone is dismissive, hands spreading your legs obscenely, eyes greedily looking at your uncovered pussy, “Your cunt is much cuter.”

God, you feel like you might pass out, face suddenly extremely hot, “Don’t be crude.”

“Hmm? …but I think you like it though…” his thumb swipes through your folds and you gasp at him, “Got so much wetter when I said it.”

He’s quick to begin rubbing circles into your clit, thumb giving even pressure. The stimulation has your arms shaking, threatening to give out from under you. Biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning, feeling embarrassed at how intently he’s shamelessly staring at your cunt.

Continuing to speculate, he says, “That or you like being praised…” he smirks evilly, “You like being praised, sweetheart? Being told how good you’re being for me?”

Your heart leaps in your chest, brows upturning, trying to hide your outward reaction to his words, “Hah– No…”

“Such a bad liar,” eyeing your face, “Wearing a really great expression right now though.”

Fighting the urge to grind down, you deny, “Not lying.”

He ignores you, “Could be both though,” he’s continuing to ponder on what you react most to, “Which is it, sweetheart? You like how crude I am, or do you like the praise?”

You don’t plan on answering him, eyes closing harshly against his intense gaze, feeling way too exposed. His touch leaves you and you open your eyes in alarm, trying to see what he’s doing. You see his smile before he’s leaning in and licking up the length of your pussy, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

Surprised moans slip from you, arms almost giving out completely, head rolling back. His arms wrap around your legs to hold you steady, face pushing closer into you, tongue flicking at your clit before pressing into your pussy hole.

He’s relishing in your sounds, in how wet you are, how you taste and smell, almost forgetting why he did this in the first place. Pulling away from you with a lewd smack of his lips, smiling big at the whine you let out from the loss of him.

Huffing slightly as he says, “Asked a question, not licking your pussy again until you answer it.”

“I don’t know,” your head lolls forward, eyes wet.

Head moving to the side to nip lightly at your thigh, “Shall we find out then?”

You jolt at the sensation, face twisting in confusion at him.

“You don’t gotta do anything, sweetie, just stay like this,” his hands push back on your thighs though, opening you up to him even more. “Been doing so good for me, sound so pretty,” he coos at you.

Brows furrowing at his words, heart skipping beats at his sudden praise, feeling fuzzy all over.

He hums in thought, “So fucking wet for me, dripping everywhere, creamy fucking pussy.”

You twitch at the switch, wanting to crawl away from him.

“I think I’ve just realised something,” he glances up at you, “Got such nice reactions to both things I said, do you know how much wetter you got, cunt twitching and drooling for me.”

You try pulling from him, but his hold is firm, “Gojo!” You warn.

He might be enjoying this too much but learning about what gets you going is way too enticing, especially when he doesn’t have to do much to have you looking so pathetic. “Trying to run away from me,” he tsks, “But you’re fucking dripping, so reactive, so sweet.” His eyes are glazing over, working himself up.

“‘Toru!” You call for him again, you feel like you’re on fire, beyond embarrassed.

He groans at the nickname, not hearing it from you in so long, you used to always call him that. He liked it a little too much, cock leaking for you. He feels as wrecked as he looks when he looks up at you, “I think you like both,” is his conclusion.

Reaching up, he grabs at your hand and pulls it down to your cunt, his fingers guiding your own through your slick. You gasp at it, not expecting for yourself to be so soaked. Biting at your lower lip when he moves your fingers over your clit, teasing you.

Dazed when he asks, “Ever been this wet, pretty?”

You shake your head, “No… I didn’t know I…”

Fingers moving yours to your entrance, “Poor thing, didn’t know how slutty her pussy was.” Feeling the way your cunt clenches at his words, his face bright with it, “Fucking great though, in love with it,” and again, your brows raising in realisation, “Yeah… you know now, don’t you?”

“You’re making me feel embarrassed,” you pout, head dizzy.

“No, I’m making you feel so fucking horny, not my fault that you like being embarrassed and praised at the same time,” he pulls your fingers away from your core, moving them to his mouth, sucking them clean.

You remove your fingers from him, coming to rest back in the bed, feeling breathless as you look down at him. “What do you want from me?”

“Want you to admit it, want you tell me how much you like when I talk to you,” his hand tickles up the skin of your inner thigh.

“…Like it,” you mumble out.

Humming in thought, “Hmm, not good enough, don’t think I believe you.”

Repeating, louder, “I like it.”

Tilting his head at you, “You like what?”

“I like when you talk to me,” you say with more force, brows furrowed.

He pretends to be unsure of your answer, “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” You try again, but as his expression remains unchanging, you add, “I like when you talk to me, I like how hot and fuzzy your words make me feel, I like just the sound of your voice, makes me want to squirm. Love it even! Is that what you wanted to hear?” You huff.

“Holy fuck, yes,” if he weren’t already on his knees, he would’ve fallen to them again.

You let out a squeal at the way his mouth is already back on you, tongue pushing into your hole insistently. Fervent in his actions, clearly worked up by your words. If he were on the bed, he’d be shamelessly grinding his hips down into it, cock so fucking hard it’s aching. Pulsing so pitifully for you and if he weren’t so completely distracted by how you taste he’d throw caution to the wind and fuck into you right now.

“Gojo! Oh–” His name comes out all broken, ruined and shaky from how he laps at your cunt, drinking down all your slick.

Your elbows officially give out and you’re flopping back onto the mattress, fingers digging into the bed. Struggling to hold in all the little noises he’s pulling from you, hips trying to desperately rut into his pretty face with no luck, locked in place by his strong hold.

Gasping out at him, “M–more. Gojo – hah – more, please.”

Grunting against you, vibrations running up your spine, wanting desperately to kick your legs against the stimulation but unable to. He’s worked you up so much, so fucking desperate for release that his touch is making you crazy.

A finger presses at your hole, slipping inside easily, both his finger and tongue fucking into you. Another finger added, opening you up, scissoring them, tongue sneaking deeper inside your cunt.

He feels drunk, head heavy and brain foggy, tongue fucking you deeply. Delighting in the sounds of your sloppy pussy trying to suck him in deeper, he’s losing his mind. Tongue leaving you only for him to spit onto your cunt, thumb rubbing it into your clit, third finger added to the first two. Determined to have you ready for his cock.

“Need you to cum,” he sounds wrecked even to himself, “Before I do in my own pants – ffffuck –” Can’t help the way he curses at how you tighten around him at his words, “Must’ve been telling the truth about liking my voice, huh?” He teases, laughing breathlessly at how you react to him again.

Pressing out a simple, “S–so mean,” in response.

“You fucking like it,” eyes watching how your back arches off the mattress, “Love it even,” he reminds.

A series of moans leave you unabashedly at how he crooks his fingers just right, consistently hitting the one spot, thighs twitching at it. Stomach pulling tight and toes curling, head moving from side to side, so fucking close now.

“That’s it, sweetie,” he encourages, “Doing so good, just let go for me.”

You’re cumming suddenly, the abruptness of it shocking, like your body skipped the rest of the build up at Gojo’s words. If it didn’t feel good how he was fucking you through it, how his thumb kept rubbing at your clit, you’d feel beyond embarrassed at how you came just because he asked you to.

It’s not lost on him how quick you were to finish after he spoke, his ego big before and now fucking massive. Absolutely thrilled by how you continue to prove your responsiveness to him, if he were ever worried about you not being attracted to him, he can’t possibly remember why. Not when you’re squirming under him, tears threatening to slip from your waterline.

“Such a good direction follower,” he mocks, repeating his earlier sentiments.

His fingers keep stroking at you until your body goes limp, only jerking every now and again with your come down. Pulling them from you and parting them, looking at the way your cum connects his fingers together with white strings.

“Look at that,” his voice dripping with glee, “I was right… got such a creamy pussy,” he hums, shoving his fingers into his mouth.

He wipes his spit covered fingers on your thighs before standing, tugging off his pants and boxers before crawling up the mattress, leaning over you. Fingers skimming at your sides, pulling your shirt along with it, “Can I take this off, pretty?”

Eyes bleary when they meet his, giving a small nod, “Mhm.”

“You okay to keep going?” He checks, leaning in closer to you.

His concern makes you unreasonably happy, feeling genuinely cared for, “Yeah.”

“You sure–”

Cutting him off, “–Yes.”

Shock present on his face before smiling endearingly at you, completely smitten with you and has been for a long time now. It all feels a little surreal to him, being able to hold you, be intimate with you. Leaning in more, pressing soft kisses all over your face.

Showering you in affection as his hands continue to pull your shirt up. Only parting to pull it from you fully, thrown to some corner of your room, joining the rest of your clothes. Shuffling back so he can look at all of you, hands delicately tracing over you, like he’s memorising how you feel under his palms.

“You’re so soft,” he mumbles, hands smoothing over you. He drops onto you, face pressing between your tits, breathing in your scent.

Confused as your voice calls for him gently, “‘Toru?”

“Fuck,” he nips at your skin first and then moves to get back on his knees, “Alright, spread those pretty legs for me, sweetheart.”

Feeling placid from the intensity of your orgasm, you immediately listen to him and open your legs, moving them to the outside of his. Gojo feels like his heart grows in size at how quick you are to listen to him, so docile you don’t even talk back to him.

Your head cocks to the side at him, confused by his stare, “What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head at you, “You’re just really cute.”

He grabs your face, sandwiching your cheeks between his fingers, his lips leaving behind a big and sloppy kiss on yours before focusing back on your cunt. Grasping his cock and groaning at the pressure, squeezing himself to alleviate some of the need crawling desperately up his spine.

You can’t help but stare, he wasn’t full of it, he really is that big. Long and thick and looking so painfully hard, dripping precum so messily down the length of himself, dribbling down onto the bed sheets.

“It’s rude to stare,” he hisses, hand now stroking himself, clearly not even a little bit put off by your shameless staring. If anything, completely aroused by it.

Looking up into his eyes as you apologise, “‘M sorry.”

“Hah,” he huffs in amusement, “So polite all of a sudden, orgasm that good, pretty?”

“Yeah,” you nod, staring at him straight on, aiming to work him up more.

It works, “Fuck– alright,” his hips stutter into his hand and he stops fisting his cock, “‘Bout to give you an even better one,” guiding his dick to your core.

Swiping the head of himself through your folds, letting it collect the slick leaking from you. Teasing you like this for a bit, moving himself up and down before dipping into your hole, only to pull away again.

You whine at him over it, “Please.”

Smile large as he coos, “Don’t worry, pretty. I’ll take care of you.”

Keeping his word, he slowly presses the tip of his dick into you, hissing at the stretch, worried he didn’t give you enough prep. You bite your lip as you begin to take him in, fisting the sheets below, looking up at Gojo. His brows are upturned, and his jaw clenched, focusing so hard on being slow and careful. He pauses when you clench and flinch around him.

“I can take it,” gaze determined as you try to assure him, “You can keep going.”

“Oh, sweetie,” his hand grips at your inner thigh, squishing it under his hold, “I appreciate that,” he smiles, “I do… but you’re gonna want to pace yourself.”

You pout up at him, sulking, wanting to be full and not appreciating his probably – definitely – sound advice.

“Hah, don’t pout,” his thumb moves to your clit, “You’ll take it, know you will,” rubbing circles into it, “Cause I’m gonna make sure of it, but you gotta pace yourself.”

Under his touch, you relax again, and he pushes his hips forward, starting the slow process of opening you up on his cock. His control astounding himself right now, wanting nothing more than to fuck into you completely, feeling your pussy swallow him whole.

He’s not quite half-way yet and already pressing up against the most delicious spots inside you, with that and his consistent pressure on your clit, you’re suddenly so fucking close to cumming like this.

Reaching out to him, your hand lightly slaps at him, trying to warn, “I’m gonna – hah –”

Gojo realises when you clench down on him what you’re trying to say, the small noises you make getting louder, he almost blows his load the second he realises. Ripping himself from you suddenly, you cry out at the loss, cumming around nothing, gasping into your hand.

“Why? Why?” you’re almost incoherent as you ask him.

“I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, trying to make up for the loss of his cock, “Would’ve cum if I hadn’t pulled out, wanna at least fuck you before I do.”

You glare at him, trying to convey how slighted you feel but he only seems to find it endearing, smiling at you over it. “I’ll make it up to you, don’t worry.”

Wasting no time, he fucks back into you, to where he was before he pulled out. Giving shallow thrusts as he keeps pressing forwards, breath stuttering at the small way he’s getting the friction he’s desperate for.

“Such a greedy cunt,” he murmurs, dick slipping deeper, “So quick to cum for me, sucking me in.”

“Gojo–” you whine at him, his words back to embarrassing you.

His voice cracks at how you refer to him, “–No, no, nono, what happened to ‘Toru?” Fucking deeper, so close to being balls deep.

“‘Toru, you’re–” cutting yourself off with a moan, he thrust the rest of the way in when you called to him, “–so deep.”

“Don’t I fucking know it,” he chuckles breathlessly, moving to press his body up against yours, craving the contact.

He’s pressed up against you completely, warm and strong, your legs loop around his waist and he slips in deeper. He groans at it, holding himself back, wanting you to adjust to all of him first. He nuzzles into your neck, leaving kisses and love bites against the sensitive skin there, relishing in the way your pussy jumps around him over such a small act.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you liked me or something,” he jokes, referencing how sensitive you are to him.

Without thinking, you admit, “I have – mmph – I’ve liked you mm–multiple times ah– at different points in – hah – our lives.”

His head snaps back as he twitches inside you, “Seriously?” When you nod, he grinds down into you, “Fuck– had me so stressed, liked you all this time and you’re telling me I could’ve had this pretty, little pussy so much sooner?”

You’re feeling a bit dazed, two orgasms deep and stretched so obscenely around him, cunt making wet noises just from the small way he’s grinding into you.

“When,” his words are hurried, when you look at him like he’s just said something in a different language, he asks again, “When have you liked me?”

“I don’t remember that, too many – hnn – different times,” you shake your head, you don’t even know if you could recount all the times you had feelings for him resurface even if you weren’t split open on his big dick.

He moans, starting to move his hips in shallow thrusts, “Enough that you – mmph – can’t remember specifics,” he groans, “Feels like a sick joke, been pining after you our – hah – whole lives.”

His mouth is on yours, kissing you deeply, sucking your tongue into his mouth, licking at you. The kiss so dizzying, you’re barely able to catch up to him before he’s talking again, “The most recent time– can you – hah – remember the most recent time you liked me?”

He’s desperate to know, wanting to know how small or big of a window he had missed. Failing to realise it doesn’t really matter all that much right now.

“Not – hah – not that long ago,” you’re almost panting now, wanting for him to move with more urgency but he’s still only thrusting into you shallowly.

“When, sweetie, tell me when, please,” his forehead pressed to yours, eyes imploring.

Struggling slightly as you press out, “B– before I started – hah – going on all those dates,” you’re trying really hard to think, “Beginning of the – hng – year?”

Smiling at you, big, happy, “Not that long ago, just gonna make you like me again.”

He’s a little annoyed that you went on so many dates right after having liked him, not completely lost on him that the two are probably connected and feeling frustrated that he hadn’t just told you about his feelings ages ago.

“Gonna charm the fuck outta you, take you to nice places, shower you in compliments, tell you how cute you are,” he’s rambling now, about your theoretical future dates, “Remind you every day how much I like you, how perfect you are, gonna make you like me again.”

“I’d like it if you moved, ‘Toru, please,” you beg, tears in the corners of your eyes from being teased.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he quips, kissing your cheek before complying.

Finally starting a pace that has you going crazy but in a different way, fast and deep, weighted thrusts that make you struggle to maintain focus. Pulling out almost completely before fucking back into you, hammering his hips into yours, lewd squelching filling the room at it.

Your whimpered moans have Gojo’s skin pricking, so turned on he feels insane, like you might kill him, “Got such a great pussy, fucking soaking wet, taking me so well, could die like this and not complain, fuck–”

Clawing at him now, at his forearms, his biceps, shoulders, back, anywhere you can reach, desperately scrabbling for purchase. “Gojo–”

“–No, I don’t know who that is,” he ignores your cry of his name.

Trying again, “‘Toru, want– I want–”

You’re not even entirely sure what you want or are asking for, but Gojo seems to know immediately. His hips moving faster, pelvis slapping into your clit every time he meets yours, cock hitting against your cervix in a way that hurts so fucking good.

Eyes rolling back in your skull with the pleasure, fat tears running down your face at it. Sex has never felt like this, is it meant to feel like this? Have you been doing it wrong? Or maybe he’s just insanely good at it, or maybe you just like him more than you were aware of.

“Feels– feels good, I–”

“Again? Fucking perfect, so perfect for me,” he sounds so excited, “Want it, want you to cum on me, cum all over my cock, fucking coat me in it.” It’s almost like he’s begging you for it.

Luckily for him, you really do like his voice, love how he talks to you and at his borderline begging, you’re cumming all over him. Cunt clenching down on him, sobbing out pitiful moans of his name as you cum. It’s coating him, just like how he asked for, creamy white ring at the base of his cock.

“Fuuck, that’s it, such a good girl,” your cunt jumps around his cock, and he laughs, “Oh? You liked that, should’ve called you a good girl sooner.”

Too dazed to fight him on his teasing, corners of your vision blurry and ears ringing, twitching pathetically under him. He doesn’t stop his thrusts, fucking into you harsher, more shallow, getting close to finishing himself.

Orgasm on the tip of his tongue, the thing that sends him over the edge is how you look up at him. Eyes fucked out and cheeks tear stained, whining out a small, “‘Toru, want it, please.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” his words are choked out, almost whining himself, balls heavy with how badly he wants to cum.

Thrusts faltering as he fucks into you the last few times, suddenly slamming his pelvis to yours, releasing all his cum inside you, painting your walls a pretty shade of white. Hips grinding into you as he finishes.

Fucked out whimpers of your name leaving him as he presses his head into the side of your neck. Biting down onto you, shocking you slightly, the pain unexpected, he lathes over it with his tongue.

He slumps down onto you, his weight too much, your hands push at him, “Too heavy.”

He hums out at you noncommittally but gets up, carefully slipping himself from you, not shy in how he stares at your pussy. At the way his cum gushes from it, the urge to fuck it all back inside you strong. He withholds though, seeing you’re clearly beyond fucked out. Next time, he promises himself.

Gone from you but not for too long, only leaving long enough to clean himself up and bring stuff back to clean you up. Wiping softly at your legs, cleaning you of his spend, “You look cute dripping with my cum,” he singsongs.

“Lewd,” you accuse, too tired to think of something more to say.

“Yeah…” he gets into bed by you, “But I’m certain you like that.”

You snuggle into his side, letting him cuddle you, “Not sleeping with you again until at least the third date.”

“I bet…” he looks down at you, lips hovering over yours, “…You’ll sleep with me after each of them.”

You go to scoff at him and deny it, but he kisses you, deep and imploring. Effectively shutting you up and as you let him kiss you how he likes, you realise, he might be right.

𝐀/𝐍: this got away from me, like it so often does, it was only meant to be a couple k of only smut but i am not normal so it turned into this! i hope you enjoyed <3 thank you for reading!

[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

[jaysgirlx]

"Need help sweetheart?" Bookstore Customer!Jason Todd helps you reach the books on the higher shelves. You were his favorite employee and he wanted to make your day easier. He'd been coming here for a while but you always forgot how tall he was and how good his body felt pressed against yours. You only knew how to mumble out a couple words because you didn't know what else to say to a man like that. "Uh sir, you don't need to-"

"Please call me anything but sir sweetheart, you know I'm not new here"

Bookstore Customer!Jason enjoyed teasing his favorite employee aka you of course. He teases you about working at the bookstore even though he's constantly there and he'll always be flirting with you even if you're working the counter that day. He knows he's holding up the line but he's a paying customer so he doesn't care.

"How's my favorite pretty girl doing?"

"M'tired today Jay, I can't handle your nonsense right now"

"Okay that was mean- wait, Jay? that's a first"

"Buy a book or get out Jason"

You could easily tell Jason liked classics and poetry but for some reason he was willing to read your favorites even if they were a smut-filled mess. One time, he backed you up into a corner, after reading one of those books you liked, "Hmm, you like this kind of shit baby? cause I can do all that to you and so much more"

Over time, you learned that Jason also likes to follow you to the store, whispering to you about all the things he could do to you if you'd let him. His hand is always on your hips, pressing his body fully into you. He knows you like it especially when you roll your hips into his when nobody's looking. He wishes you'd use your words and just say you were his but he knew he wasn't even close to getting that, at least not yet.

Jason tried to buy a new book every week, sometimes not even to read. He needed an excuse to be there since your boss has never been fond of him ever since he had caught him feeling you up near the back shelves once. He learned his lesso so now he purposefully buys the books you like, just so he can watch you ramble on and on about them without getting kicked out of the store.

Bookstore Customer!Jason thrived on the feeling he got from watching you go from being so nonchalant around him to the most talkative girl in the world. he wants you comfortable if he's going to fuck you. You find yourself shutting up one time because you thought you had bored him but he quickly gets rid of that thought for you, "Keep talking sweetheart, I'm just wondering how pretty your mouth would look with my cock stuffed down your throat"

"Jay I don't- I can't- I haven't-"

"Don't worry, you will and I'm sure you're a fast learner"

It wasn't that hard for you to notice that Jason got a little jealous when his brother Dick hits on you the first and last time he brings him to the bookstore. Dick easily chats you up and Jason watches the two become a bit too friendly for his liking but it wasn't his place to speak, "Now I see why my little brother brings home so many books"

"It's good he does, I like guys who read"

"I actually quite the fan of classic literature-"

"Oh shut up Dick"

Bookstore Customer!Jason had all your coworkers wondering if you'll ever let the poor guy hit. They weren't sure if Jason was interested in you or your body, regardless they couldn't ignore the smile you got whenever he walk in. Or the way you'd laugh at his dumb jokes. You had him on a leash and you didn't even know what to do with him. He's begging to take you out or just even spent a night with you. He didn't just want you, he needed you. "C'mon I promise to take care of you princess, I'll even take you to that little coffee shop in Bludhaven"

"Who told you about that?!"

"…Dick"

When he finally manages to convince you to let him kiss you, you're nervous as fuck. You thought this was just another one of his antics but no, this was real. He'd promised to stop hitting on you if you felt nothing and you should've know it was bad idea when you could hear your own heartbeat still your let his lips touch yours. It was such a bad idea because before you knew it, he's got you pushed up against the wall, leg parting your thighs with your hands gripping at his shirt. "Jay, more please" Suddenly after all this time, you're pleading for him. Oh how the tables have turned. You're begging for all he's got, and you know he has so much more to give.

"Just give me a moment baby, got be patient" Within a matter of minutes your pants are discarded on the floor, and your panties are still on but being pushed aside while two fingers are being pumped in and out of your pussy. He's got one hand on your hips holding you down while one of your legs is wrapped around his waist. "Didn't I tell you I could do some much for you baby?"

You nod quickly while he's sucking on your poor neck, that would definitely be red all tomorrow. you feel his teeth sink into your skin, not too hard but rough enough to leave a mark. "Now keep quiet, I don't want any of your coworkers hearing us back here" The next thing you know you're cumming on the boy's fingers and he wants you to do it again. and again. and possibly 50 more times if you're willing.

The next time Jason comes, he's holding what you think is flowers and you know he'll be your victim today.

"So I thought real flowers would be cheesy and you'd probably not want to take care of em, so my brothers taught me how to make these paper flowers and…here just take them"

"Wow, I'm getting hand-crafted flowers from THE Jason Todd? Someone must have a really big crush on me huh? Are those bandaids on your fingers? Want me to kiss your boo-boos? "

"Are you going to finally go out with me or do I have to make you cum-"

"Yes yes! Just do not finish that sentence out loud"

"You are soooooooooo in love me"

"Jay, get out"

[darkmatilda]

𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer had heard rumors that a few female students secretly had a crush on him, but he always dismissed it as a joke and never intended to engage in any kind of relationship with them. that is, until a certain bright and quiet one caught his attention.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: professor reid x student!female reader, spence's pov only, uni looks like a f1ucking hogwart just for the vibe, reader having some daddy issues and revealing some past experiences, father's death anniversary, trauma dumping actually but it's not a self-insert story i just really got into it lol, age gap, fingering, insane sexual tension during their convos, kinda socially awkward reader who's also an irony queen from time to time, talking, lots of talking blah blah

𝐚/𝐧: a special dedication to my beloved girlies who feel that if they ever crossed paths with spencer reid they’d be too stupid to talk to him. it's also a request i got from one of you <3 hope you'll enjoy it

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 8.9k

Dr. Reid didn’t notice her right away.

Alright, fine. Dr. Reid did notice her. His analytical mind placed great importance on everything happening around him. He observed the faces of his students, instantly committing their names to memory—he wanted to know who attended his lectures. A more accurate statement would be that, at first, he didn’t pay her any special attention.

She struck him as quiet. And she was quiet. Silent and observant—that was the impression he had of her. When he formed that opinion, he wasn’t thinking about her yet. While reading, he didn’t wonder whether the book he had chosen would appeal to her, nor did he consider which aspects of it might draw her into the depths of discussion, making her usually tightly pressed lips come alive with unceasing words. Arriving at the university with a briefcase in hand, his coat tightly wrapped around him, he didn’t fixate on the ever-thickening layer of snow or brush its delicate flakes from his hair. His mind was entirely absorbed by thoughts of whether her clothing was suited to the weather and if she might be cold. Most importantly, when he formed that opinion, his gaze, upon entering the lecture hall, didn’t immediately begin searching for her face—unassuming and half-hidden among the others—before he’d even greeted the rest of the students.

Because when he formed that opinion, she was just a student, like all the others.

His lectures with her group were held twice a week, at a time when everything outside the window slowly began to gray, and they usually ended with a sense of relief for all the students, as another day of study came to a close. Reid always stayed a moment longer in the room, ready to answer any lingering questions or offer help with any issues. These questions often repeated. Sometimes, when he felt particularly tired, he didn’t have to exert much effort in his responses. That didn’t mean, of course, that he was ignorant. It was simply that his lips seemed to know the right words; he didn’t need to fully wake up or concentrate.

It was the same that late November afternoon. She approached slowly, almost shyly, to his desk, waiting for the moment when everyone else would finally disappear through the door. As if she were embarrassed that her question might reach unwanted ears. He lifted his gaze to her, immediately noticing her retreat and uncertainty, and smiled gently, encouragingly, to embolden her. And the question she asked had the effect of caffeine injected directly into his veins.

His brain immediately sprang into action, so absorbed and genuinely intrigued. Surprised, even. He answered her question, of course, but when he felt the penetrating, eager gaze of her eyes on him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything he said was inadequate and couldn’t satisfy her curiosity. He even became somewhat stressed and lost his train of thought. A slight hint of amusement stretched her lips, but, luckily for him, she ignored it, sparing him any embarrassment. They discussed a topic unusually connected to the lecture, and he hadn’t felt so intellectually engaged in a long time, though it lasted only a quarter of an hour. Afterward, she disappeared through the door like everyone else, thanking him for the answer before she left.

He didn’t hide the fact that his thoughts returned to that conversation. And when, after another lecture, she approached him again in that same characteristic manner, he hoped she would pick up where they left off. That they would continue their discussion exactly at that interrupted point. But her question was about something else, something equally fascinating, and at that moment, in that instant, he completely erased everything from his mind that had come before, fully absorbed in what they were now discussing.

Slowly, it all stopped being solely about criminology lectures and started touching on every possible tangent, from literature to more mundane matters, like current events at the university. But no matter what they were talking about, he approached it with the same level of engagement. He was pleased that it had become their little ritual.

Being, let’s not shy away from the word, a genius, meant that it was hard for him to find someone on the same intellectual level. And he didn’t say this with disdain for others, absolutely not. Spencer always enjoyed those little chats with others, truly cherished the time spent with his close ones. He just sometimes needed that kind of intellectual stimulation.

With the second week of December, something changed.

It was probably something about her general mood. Well, this month was often exceptionally depressing for a large portion of the population, but it didn’t seem like that was the issue. She had once mentioned to him that she really valued winter.

 “Really?” he asked then, resting one hand on the desk. Usually, their conversations followed the typical, unspoken arrangement of their bodies in relation to each other. He, more relaxed, often prone to gestures, and she, much less expressive. Her hip didn’t tilt to either side, she maintained a straight posture, and liked to hold something in her hands—like a notebook. When she had nothing, her fingers gently brushed the edge of the desk. Spencer couldn’t help but constantly lower his gaze to her hands and analyze their subtle movements. When he spoke, they remained still, frozen in focus. When she spoke, they would move in fluid, wave-like motions to the sides. He tried not to stare too much, as he was sure that if she caught him, she’d stop. But he liked those moments of uncontrolled naturalness in her. “What do you like about it so much?”

Her facial expressions were fascinating. Complex, like the world depicted in some novel. At the same time, difficult to decipher; sometimes, he had to guess what some small gestures meant. She blinked rarely, and when she did it more often than usual, it seemed to substitute for a shrug or uncertainty.

“I think it’s mostly how short the days are. When one of them turns out to be a failure, you don’t have to wait long until the new one begins.”

“When a day feels like a failure, you don’t have to write it off completely. Maybe sometimes it’s worth trying to fix it, at any moment you find yourself in.”

“That’s very wise advice, professor. But not for me,” she scoffed. “When something goes wrong, I’d rather start over right away than linger in that bad streak. Even when I make a mistake while taking notes, I...”

“You tear the page out and start writing on a clean one,” he blurted out the end of the sentence, his back straightening slightly when he realized he had said it out loud.

He had noticed how she did that, not once or twice. However, he was slightly embarrassed by the fact that he had admitted to staring at her during lectures. And he didn’t do it on purpose! Most of all, not obsessively. It just happened that the longer they knew each other, the more their private conversations continued, the more often his gaze drifted toward her. Sometimes, while analyzing a topic, he was so curious about what she thought, specifically what she thought, that he simply couldn’t stop himself… although usually, he still couldn’t read much from her face.

At his observation, her hand resting on the edge of the desk froze.

“Exactly,” she admitted, giving him a gentle smile. He looked at her more closely then, noticing the slight radiance on her face. That expression suited her. It wasn’t as if she always wore a completely serious or sad face. More often, though, she hid her emotions instead of eagerly presenting every little feeling she had. She cleared her throat, and Spencer immediately dropped his gaze. “I hope the sound of tearing paper doesn’t throw you off rhythm.”

“Of course not,” he reassured her quickly. “Don’t even worry about it. The only thing that throws me off rhythm is conversations.”

“That doesn’t happen often, though,” she replied. “I mean, others don’t talk to each other when you’re speaking. It’s completely different in other classes.”

This comment surprised him immensely; he frowned and asked what she meant by it.

"Maybe it's just my observation," she noted at the start. "Maybe it's about the way you speak—you’re... you're very engaged in the topic, and listening to you is so pleasant that others don't feel the need to make silly remarks or interrupt. Or maybe..." She suddenly stopped, a tension flickered across her face, as if she desperately wanted to pull back from what she was about to say.

"Or maybe...?" He couldn't stop himself, so curious to hear the end of the sentence. Then he noticed her discomfort, her gaze fixed on the desk, embarrassment washing over her. His curiosity wasn’t worth making her feel that way, and he quickly scolded himself. "It's fine, you don't have to continue..."

"Or maybe I just think that others are quieter because of how focused I am," she blurted out in one breath, pressing her lips together in embarrassment. Spencer felt an unidentified shift in the rhythm of his heart, beating against his chest. "On you. On the lecture, of course."

"On the lecture," he repeated, his voice strangely husky. He swallowed, trying to clear it, struggling to find the right words. "I'm... I'm really glad that you find everything I say so interesting."

"Of course I do," she replied carefully. "Criminology is my passion, and it's the field I want to explore as deeply as I can. And you're a huge authority to me. Like, I’m sure, to all the other students too," she added hastily.

As December progressed, their conversations became a bit less lively and shorter. Or maybe it was just some mistaken impression of his? Maybe he had grown to like them so much and looked forward to them so eagerly that no matter how long they lasted, it would never be enough for him? He felt strange with such a thought and immediately reprimanded himself. He shouldn't be placing so much importance on his meetings with his student. 

She shouldn’t occupy his thoughts as much as she did.

Brilliant, now he was starting to pin all the blame on her. 

Pathetic.

Looking back, that day was exceptionally bright. Snowflakes fell relentlessly from the sky, twirling in a dance-like motion and tracing delicate patterns in the air. A thick layer of snow on the windowsills cast a white glow across the room and seemed to shield the interior from the intrusion of any potential darkness.

Spencer had promised himself he wouldn’t look at her the moment he walked into the room. And yet, he did. Though she might have seemed like a loner, she had a small circle of friends—three, to be precise. A quiet girl, a guy, and, finally, another girl who was their complete opposite, always seeming to voice the thoughts of their entire group aloud.

Before his arrival, they seemed to be discussing something. She was only half-listening, her eyes fixed on the book she was reading. When she did respond, which was rare, her lips barely parted. Meanwhile, as she turned the pages, her hands gripped them so tightly it looked as if she might tear them apart.

He mentally noted the detail, curious about what kind of book could evoke such emotions in her. He desperately needed to know the title. Or maybe it wasn’t about the book at all? It didn’t matter. He had to find out anyway.

Reid couldn’t make out the writing on the cover—simple and black, like some kind of journal. Throughout the entire lecture, it lay closed right under her nose. Craning his neck and trying to identify it he probably looked like a total idiot. It was only after some time that he reminded himself, sobered by the thought that, based on what she had once told him—and assuming it had been a sincere admission—he was, in some way, an authority figure to these students. He ought to focus on passing on as much of his knowledge to them as possible in return. 

When the class finally came to an end, everyone began heading for the exit. She usually packed her things at a very slow pace, making sure to be the last one in the room, apart from him. She wasn’t doing anything wrong; she had the right to stay and talk to her professor, but she still approached it with some caution. Maybe she didn’t want to raise the curiosity of her friends? In any case, that day she didn’t slow down as she made her way to his desk. She followed the other figures toward the exit, arm in arm with a friend who was saying something to her. Spencer was surprised to notice that she didn’t turn toward him even once.

Before he could understand what she was doing, he called her name. Loudly.

She wasn’t the only one who turned around, but she was the only one who stayed. He tried hard to read the expression on her face. She seemed a little distracted, her gaze moving from the door to him, and he began to suspect that maybe she had simply forgotten about their brief conversations. He deeply hoped that was the case. Not that she had any problems, or that he had said something she didn’t like…

“Yeah?” she asked, tightly holding a thick book against her chest. He still hadn’t figured out which one, and it still intrigued him. “Do you want to talk about something, professor?”

Reid suddenly realized in panic that he hadn’t prepared any topic. He had called her over spontaneously, not even really knowing why. Usually, it was her who approached him with a question, and the conversation would flow on its own… but the weight of her gaze left him no time to think. 

"Well..." he began, nervously swallowing and feeling like a small, pathetic boy. "Actually, no... actually, I just wanted to know... if you had any questions. About the lecture, I mean."

He leaned one hand on the desk, hoping he didn’t look as deeply embarrassed as he felt. What the hell was happening to him?

"I don't have any," she replied. Spencer almost sighed in disappointment, barely managing to stop himself. She had been standing very close to the closed door, turning toward it as if making sure no one was behind it. Then, suddenly, she timidly stepped closer to him. "To be honest, I wasn't really focused today. I guess... it’s just not my day."

 His brows furrowed in brief concern.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Do you need me to explain something in more detail? It's... really no trouble for me, and I don’t want you to fall behind."

"Please don't worry about it, professor," she assured him. Her fingers tightened around the book she was holding, and the sigh that escaped her lips carried with it a small... smile? "Thank you for that, but I'll just take notes from someone and catch up on my own. I don't want to take up your time..."

 "It's really no trouble..."

 "...And by the way... I don't feel too well. My focus is nonexistent so it wouldn’t make much sense."

"Alright," he gave in, and for a moment, they both fell silent. Looking at her face, he tried to find any signs of illness, a developing cold, or maybe the flu. She did look a bit pale. She shifted from foot to foot, and he realized he had been staring at her and quickly shook his head. "Sorry for holding you up. You should go and try to rest. Have…have something warm to drink. It will do you good."

She wasn’t gazing longingly at the door, impatient with his words and eager to leave, as he had thought she would. In fact... she seemed to be looking at him with a hint of hesitation.

"It’s not that... I can’t focus at all," she began. "It’s just that more complicated topics can’t settle in my mind. Related to studying, mostly. But that doesn’t mean I want to shut myself off completely. Honestly, I think I could use a bit of conversation..." A sudden laugh escaped her lips. "Sorry, really. I didn’t mean to bother you with... nonsense. I should probably talk to a friend, not a professor, if I just wanted to chat..."

She flinched, as if about to turn and leave—almost run away. Spencer straightened abruptly, wanting to stop her.

“No, wait—don’t go. You can talk to me. What is it? Is something bothering you?”

Her gaze wandered aimlessly around the room for a moment before she finally shook her head.

"Nothing specific. Stress, the end of the semester, you know. Everyone’s only talking about that, and I just want to think about something else for a moment. Anything."

"I completely understand," Reid admitted. Leaning back against the edge of his desk, arms crossed over his chest, he studied her more intently. A flicker of doubt sparked within him—was it really just that? Something inside him tugged, eager to uncover everything weighing on her mind and causing such a somber mood. But he knew her well enough by now to realize that a direct question would only make her retreat.

He paused, considering what he would want to talk about if he needed to distract himself from a troubling thought.

"Does... does literature fall under those complicated topics you can’t quite settle in your mind?"

She dropped her head with a sudden laugh. A fleeting sense of satisfaction washed over him, as if he’d just achieved some long-term goal. Odd, but pleasant.

“No,” she replied. “Literature is actually a topic I could talk about even in the middle of the night, freshly woken from sleep. In theory, at least. In practice, I’d probably start mixing up names so much you wouldn’t even know which work I was referring to. I mean, they wouldn’t. The person who woke me up wouldn’t know—I didn’t mean you specifically…”

This time, it was him who started laughing as she, embarrassed, tried to untangle herself from her own words.

"I got the general message."

"Thank God. You know, I've been thinking lately that if I just kept my mouth shut every time I said something stupid, I’d save myself from a ton—no, an enormous amount of incredibly awkward social situations."

It amused him that she had pointed out a problem he himself often dealt with. He opened his mouth to say something, but almost immediately had to close it again. He nearly blurted out that he found all her moments of embarrassment genuinely endearing and didn’t want her to hold back from speaking around him just out of fear of self-embarrassment. 

Before he could even decide if it was the appropriate thing to say, she spoke again.

“So… why did you ask about literature?”

He was so lost in thought that for a brief moment, he almost forgot that he had even brought up the topic. It wasn’t until his gaze once again landed on the book she was holding that he snapped back to reality.

“I spent most of the lecture wondering what you were reading,” he admitted, still standing with his back to the desk, leaning on it with his hands, trying to hide their brief, slight tremor. Maybe he had said it too directly… or perhaps it was just his usual tendency to overanalyze every word he said to her. Quickly, he added, “Because I’m sure I’ve never seen that book before. I don’t recognize the cover at all, although I know there can be different editions. What’s the author’s name?”

She gave him the name with a strange expression. Spencer furrowed his brows, but she beat him to it, speaking before he could say anything.

“That’s right, it’s my father’s book.”

Honestly intrigued, he tilted his head to the side.

"I didn’t know he was a writer. And... to be completely honest, I’ve never heard of him..."

To his surprise, she laughed. Not shyly and genuinely as before, but with a bitterness that lingered in her voice.

"It’s not that he was a writer. He just really, really wanted to be one. But no publisher was really interested in what came out of his office. Which doesn’t surprise me much. Anyway, in the end, he gave up and printed that one copy just to have something to proudly put on the shelf."

He felt that they had stepped onto some unstable ground, one that required him to tread carefully. Or perhaps even retreat if it might cause her any pain. And it seemed that it did. However, Spencer felt too concerned to pull back. 

“Why are you reading his book, anyway?” he asked cautiously. Her face remained expressionless, and he wondered if she even caught the gist of his question. Most likely, she did—without a problem—but he felt an inner need to add something more, to keep the conversation flowing smoothly instead of making it feel like an interrogation. “Maybe… maybe it’s just my completely wrong assumption—correct me if I’m off—but you didn’t exactly look… like you were enjoying it much.”

She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. She forced herself to stay calm, forced herself to appear at ease. But it was too late—the enigmatic shield that had protected her from all sides had been cracked, and her expression turned transparent, everything behind it 

"He's gone. Two years ago, in December," she admitted, her voice lacking overt despair, though tinged with the unmistakable weight of layered pain. She seemed uncomfortable sharing it—not with him as a person, but with him as her professor. "A few days before Christmas. Last year... I don’t know why, maybe just to torture myself, I started reading it. And this year, the same thing. The month started, and somehow, subconsciously... I just woke up with the book in my hands at one point. That’s... for context. Forgive me if this doesn’t interest you at all. I probably said too much…”

“No, you didn’t. Don’t think that,” he assured her, instinctively taking a step forward, closer to her, though he couldn’t quite explain why. The conversation had drifted into an unexpected territory, but this was exactly what he had wanted—to know what had been weighing on her. “At least… at least now I understand what’s been making you feel the way you do lately. I won’t keep catching myself trying to guess what’s behind it anymore. And I won’t worry so much, now that I know.”

“Worry,” she repeated immediately after him, before the echo of his previous words had a chance to dissolve into the void. Her tone was the kind used to point out someone’s grammatical slip-ups—sharp, quick, decisive. As if she simply couldn’t help herself.

Spencer froze in place, just one step away from her. Now that he was finally this close, he could have taken a proper look at the cover of the book she was holding, but suddenly, it didn’t matter at all. His focus was entirely on her—her words, her face, and the quiet weight of the troubles she carried.

He didn’t know what he should do, his hands falling limply at his sides. He imagined what it would feel like to gently touch her cheek—he could do it, all it would take was moving his hand forward. That was all that separated them. Just that small distance and some ingrained barrier in his mind, shaking its head in disapproval and conjuring painfully vivid images of her pulling away before his fingers even grazed her skin, leaving him as quickly as she could.

“It’s not that… reading this book is such a complete torment,” she began with a sigh, relaxing her posture slightly as his shadow loomed just above her. She held the book out toward him, so close that she didn’t even have to extend her elbow. She had clearly changed the subject. “You can… check for yourself. It’s decently written. At times, good. It has some insightful points. Page 814, for example. Verse 6.”

Surprised not only by the request but also by her precise instructions, Reid took the book from her without hesitation. It was incredibly thick and heavy, with no interesting illustrations on the cover, only the author’s name written in fancy font. Though his reading speed was impressive, instead of absorbing the information on the following pages, he focused on reaching the one she had pointed out.

The mentioned quote was underlined with a black line, as if drawn with a ruler.

"It is impossible to prove your loyalty under favorable conditions. For it to happen, something must shake your world, the walls of your home must begin to crumble, and challenges must materialize outside. Only then, in that most difficult moment for both of you, can you finally prove to the other person that you will never leave them, and that your love will never reach their back."

"I love this quote," she said before he could formulate any thought. Surprisingly, there was no trace of irony in her voice. "Honestly. It's accurate and aligns with my personal worldview. But at the same time, it amuses me incredibly..." She scoffed bitterly. "...That it came from the pen of a guy who, after sixteen years of marriage, got another woman pregnant. Oopsie. A bit of hypocrisy, don't you think?"

Completely shaken by the confession, Spencer placed his hand on her shoulder. He didn't care that she had said it all in a tone dripping with sarcasm, not in the form of a broken lament. He still felt that he had to, felt that he needed to offer her some form of support, even if it was as weak as touching her hand.

She seemed to be in shock. Those earlier words had almost escaped from her lips on their own, and she kept them slightly parted, as if hoping they would return. And when they didn't, she must not have expected his reaction. Or maybe she was counting on a response just as sharp as her tone, a snicker or a biting retort. Not a touch, not a tender furrowing of his brow.

Her bottom lip trembled, and her cheeks flushed with a delicate redness.

 “Sorry, really. Can I... can I open the window? I think I need some fresh air…”

Instead of responding, he guided her toward the window, his hand resting on her back, hovering just at the edge of touch. She closed her eyes, feeling the winter chill against her face, and sighed. Spencer, though reluctantly, stepped back a couple of paces, giving her space. But he couldn't stop himself from studying her face. He hadn't noticed it before, too focused on her mind, but now he saw that her face, her presence, was just as beautiful.

Was it just a simple statement of fact, or a thought that had emerged from the unpredictable corners of his inner self?

They spent a moment, maybe even a few minutes, in silence. After that, she hesitantly turned to him over her shoulder.

"Oh no, don't you dare apologize again," he warned, extending his hand in a firm gesture.

"But I should," she said. "You're my professor, and I just came to you and started unloading about my life. It's not even just inappropriate anymore, it's simply pathetic."

"As long as I don't consider it inappropriate or pathetic, then it isn't. And you place too much importance on the fact that I'm your professor. Maybe... it would help you if you stopped seeing me only in that context, and started... seeing me as, say, a friend. And if that's too much, then at least as a genuinely interested conversational partner?"

The corners of her lips suddenly trembled.

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Well, I think we could argue about the definition if we wanted to."

“There’s no need for that,” she said, turning fully away from the window and leaning on the windowsill with her elbows. A few traces of a blush still lingered on her face, adding so much charm that Spencer’s thoughts began to wander in such a dangerous direction that he had to look away. “But… I need to know. Is that… what you really think of me? A conversation companion? A slash, a friend?”

“I’m not sure… if I understand,”

 One of her nails bent as she nervously tapped it on the windowsill.

 “I just want to know if you think of me as someone more than an annoying student who bothers you after every lecture.”

Reid was momentarily taken aback.

“You thought I thought of you like that?”

Unfazed, she blinked.

“You tell me.”

"He didn’t know how to put it into words without it sounding inappropriate. In the end, he decided to stop worrying about propriety and just be honest.

"Not once, since you started coming to see me, have I thought you were irritating. But more than once, I’ve thought that you’re truly fascinating, and I even... I even found myself eagerly awaiting what you’d want to talk about next."

Her head tilted slightly to the side as she listened to him. The old, familiar impenetrability returned to her expression—her eyes slightly narrowed, her lips... perhaps on the verge of an uncertain smile?

He never got the chance to find out. Immediately after his words, someone interrupted them, completely shattering the atmosphere inside.

"Are there any more classes here?" asked the man responsible for cleaning, peeking inside. "I thought they were over..."

"Because they are," Reid quickly replied, only now noticing that, indeed, darkness had fallen outside. Their classes had taken place in the afternoon, and the conversation had stretched so long that early winter evening had already begun. "We were just... just leaving."

"Well then, I guess goodbye," she said once they were outside. "It really got late, and I need to rewrite my notes..."

For some reason, he felt incredibly disappointed.

*

The last lecture before the Christmas break took place in a dreamy atmosphere. Everyone's spirit was already outside the classroom, far from criminology-related topics, surrounded by family and loved ones.

As usual, he couldn't stop glancing in her direction. He was incredibly pleased that nothing had changed since their memorable conversation, and their routine of chatting after every class remained untouched. Or perhaps something had changed? Their mutual ease with one another had grown, as had the range of topics they navigated. His impatience for their conversations had grown as well...

That day, he waited for her to approach his desk with her characteristic, slow, perfectly controlled step. He watched, almost hypnotized, as she did, adjusting her bag on her shoulder before standing up from her seat. But when she was right in front of him, one of her friends, the loud one, suddenly grabbed her hand.

"Don't tell me you're planning to bother him again," she scoffed. "We were supposed to go out and eat together before I head home, remember?"

"Oh," her friend hesitated, casting an apologetic glance at Spencer. They were too close for him not to overhear their conversation. He felt a selfish frustration rising within him. "Actually, sorry, I forgot. But...Can you give me a minute?"

Her friend rolled her eyes but nodded, and after a moment, they were left alone in the room.

"You're not staying to chat, or has my deduction skills gotten worse?"

"Unfortunately. I mean, unfortunately, I'm not staying. For long. I just wanted to... wish you a Merry Christmas."

Sometimes, when he talked to her, he forgot there was a world outside of their conversation, and that such a thing as months existed, and one of them was December. Christmas, right.

"Merry Christmas, to you too. I hope... I hope you'll have a really nice time."

He didn't know what else to add. Everything he said could lead to a long discussion, and outside the door, her friend was probably waiting for her to join her. So he stayed silent, a little awkwardly. She gave him an equally awkward smile. Awkward, but sincere.

Her feet shuffled in place, as if they wanted to stay in the room, not leave.

She waved goodbye once more to break the tension and disappeared through the door.

Spencer let out a heavy sigh. Maybe he should've said something. Suddenly, so many possible topics came to his mind. For example, the holiday party, the ball, organized by her department. Was she planning to go? What about Christmas itself? Was she going to spend it with her family? How was she feeling? How had her day gone? Did she enjoy the lecture? They were short questions, ones she'd probably answer just as briefly. He could have asked any of them.

But it was too late. They won't see each other until the beginning of the new semester.

He overanalyzed the interaction for a few more hours, later that evening, on his way to the university library. The corridors were almost empty; the students had either left or were attending the Christmas ball that had just begun. It might have sounded a bit serious and pompous, but such an event was indeed organized every year by a different department. It shouldn’t be confused with a student party, as formal attire was required, and the music was usually classical or instrumental versions of traditional carols. It was a way to thank the students, faculty, and university management for completing another semester.

He overanalyzed the interaction for a few more hours, later that evening, on his way to the university library. The corridors were almost empty; the students had either left or were attending the Christmas ball that had just begun. It might have sounded a bit serious and pompous, but such an event was indeed organized every year by a different department. It shouldn’t be confused with a student party, as formal attire was required, and the music was usually classical or instrumental versions of traditional carols. It was a way to thank the students, faculty, and university management for completing another semester.

Initially, Reid had planned to stop by briefly, but after feeling strange for a few hours and sensing a migraine coming on, he decided to skip it. He definitely preferred to spend the evening among the shelves and books. He rarely admitted it to others, but the reason he chose this particular university was not the salary offered, but the richness of their library’s resources.

He had hoped that spending time there would help distract him from a certain student, who had progressively been occupying his thoughts more and more. In fact, she already had a room in his mind. A room. A damn palace with seven bedrooms, each dedicated to a different day of the week. What he hadn’t expected, however, was to see her almost immediately after stepping into the library. Fast asleep in one of the corners, her face resting on a small table with four seats around it, only one of which was occupied—hers.

Reid couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of it.

Before he had a chance to think about it, before the thought even crossed his mind that perhaps she didn’t want anyone disturbing her in the middle of her late-night solo study session, he moved closer, carefully stepping so as not to wake her. It didn’t take long for him to realize that he could probably jump up and down, and it wouldn’t make a difference. Both of her ears were plugged with headphones, effectively shutting her off from the sounds of the outside world.

Despite this fact, he carefully sat down on the edge of the table to her left, so close that her limp hand, resting on it, ended up parallel and very close to his leg. First, he glanced at the textbooks spread out before her, then at the thick book by her father, the one she still read every day. Finally, his gaze fell on her—on that face, deeply asleep. Unable to resist, he lifted his trembling hand and gently tucked the strands of hair that had fallen onto her face behind her ear.

The moment his fingers brushed her skin, she jolted awake with a startled flinch. Spencer blushed, realizing only then what he had done. To avoid embarrassing himself, he quickly cleared his throat and spoke up.

“Sorry to wake you. But this probably isn’t the most comfortable place to nap.”

She straightened up, blinking in confusion.

“Did I fall asleep…?” Her gaze locked on him, and she shook her head, now fully awake. “Oh, I definitely fell asleep. I didn’t even notice you coming up.”

“Maybe I was sneaking around too much. Anyway, what were you working on before you passed out? Studying, reading?”

Still rubbing her tired face, she looked at her things.

“I guess a bit of both. I had some catch-up work I wanted to do. Then I decided I had enough, and my brain just couldn’t absorb any more new facts or information. So, I started reading.” She nodded toward the book.

Reid stared at her for a moment longer.

“You know… I’ve been thinking about it lately,” he began. It was a little hard for him to focus on speaking when she rested her chin on her hand, looking at him from beneath her lifted lashes. Her eyes were puffy, mascara slightly smudged under her eyelids, but she still looked… well, it was hard to put it into a single word. “About your dad’s book, I mean.” Actually, he'd mostly been thinking about her, but that topic had popped into his mind for a moment. “And that quote you read to me once. It seemed pretty good, and I’m surprised no publisher wanted to release it. What’s it actually about?”

He felt confused by the sudden amusement that appeared on her face.

“What’s going on?” He furrowed his brows.

She shook her head, trying to suppress her laughter.

“Just so you know, I’m not laughing at you,” she quickly reassured him. “It’s just when I imagined your reaction… okay, just listen. My dad’s novel is about a young student, a poor one, who, in a moment of desperation, decides to murder a woman from whom he borrowed money. And then for the next thousand pages, he alternates between hating himself and trying to justify his actions in his own eyes.”

Spencer was silent, his brows lowering more and more.

“Sorry… I really don’t want to accuse your dad of plagiarism, but this sounds like…”

“Crime and Punishment, I know. And it is plagiarism. Well, he preferred to call it inspiration, and, to be fair, not everything is the same. The story takes place in New York instead of Petersburg, the main character’s name is different, but everything else… it’s the same, only longer. Every chapter stretched to its limits, with reflections on every possible subject. It’s almost twice the length of the original.”

Not knowing how exactly to respond, he did what felt most natural. He laughed, and she followed with a quick chuckle.

“Sorry, this is so absurd. Why... why did he actually do it?”

“I ask myself that question every day, believe me. He was kind of a Dostoyevsky wannabe. On his desk, he kept a photo of me and a collector’s edition of The Brothers Karamazov. He even... he even tried to force me to study Russian philology instead of criminology, but, well… you can see how that turned out. And if this sounds absurd to you, guess what the main character’s name is?”

“You mentioned it’s different. But I have no idea, probably something more in line with American standards…”

“Oh, very much. Rodney Rozzleknock. Now I bet you’re not surprised nobody wanted to publish it?”

For a moment, they sat in silence, he alternately shook his head in disbelief and hid his face in his hands. This was probably the most absurdly funny thing he had heard in a long time, and if it weren’t for the actual version of the book they were talking about being right in front of him, he wouldn’t believe it existed.

"So that's why you know so much about Russian literature," he said. They had once had a brief conversation on the topic, and he had actually been impressed.

"It wasn’t knowledge I willingly acquired. And by the way, what are you doing here, Professor?"

He shrugged. She hadn’t used that title for him in a while, but hadn’t yet started using his first name either, and he wasn’t sure how to suggest it.

"I was planning to drop by the ball for a bit, but I decided I’d rather spend some time among books. Speaking of which, the ball. Didn’t you want to go?"

He assumed that she might be similar to him in that regard and didn’t really care for events like that. But, to his surprise, a certain, not so obvious expression crossed her face.

"Actually, I would have gone if I had gotten an invitation."

"I don’t understand," he furrowed his brows. "You don’t need an invitation. Your department organized it, you were all invited just by the fact of it.”

Her lips parted in shock, and a short Oh escaped.

"In that case... I guess it doesn't matter anymore. It's too late. My friend won't be there, the rest of my friends have probably already gone, and I won’t be able to find them in the crowd, and..." She sighed, a bit embarrassed. "And I guess I'm just kind of too shy to show up there alone."

Reid watched her in silence for a moment. A foolish thought crossed his mind. Foolish, but... was it really? He had no idea how she might interpret it, whether she’d even want to, or what she’d think of him.

“I’d be happy to... go with you,” he blurted out, nervously swallowing the lump in his throat as soon as the words left his mouth. His eyes stayed fixed on her, searching for her reaction.

And she... burst into laughter, probably assuming he was joking.

“Wait... seriously?” she asked, straightening her shoulders, her tone suddenly more incredulous. “But... how do you even imagine that? It’s already started, I’m completely unprepared, and it’s formal attire only…”

"I’ll need to change too. But it won’t take long, and the ball goes on late. We’ll only be a little late," he reasoned logically, realizing he was actively trying to convince her. He hated these kinds of events, but this was a chance to spend time together... Besides, he was doing it for her. Why should she miss out on something she clearly wanted to attend just because of a misunderstanding and a bit of shyness?

"Yeah... but I’ll still have to deal with everything else. I look—"

Before she could finish, he leaned in and gently wiped the smudged mascara from under her eye with his thumb.

"You look perfect. Just right for the ball. So?"

Her eyes widened at the gesture, and a sharp exhale escaped her lips.

“Okay. Okay. I think... I think we can do this... Why not? Just give me fifteen minutes. Thirty. Thirty minutes...”

As she spoke, she hastily gathered all her belongings into her bag, glanced at him for a brief moment, then disappeared in a rush, not even looking back over her shoulder.

Spencer, on the other hand, felt as though he had been glued to the table he was perched on. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest.

Did he just... ask the girl he liked to a ball?

And she said yes?

He still couldn’t quite believe it, even when, exactly thirty minutes later—almost as though she’d measured the time with a stopwatch—they met again at the entrance to the gymnasium, now transformed for the occasion.

The floor had been covered in polished wooden panels, and the walls were draped with light-colored fabrics, adorned with strings of glowing garlands shaped like snowflakes. In the corner of the room, a small stage, decorated with sprigs of evergreen, hosted a modest orchestra of students and members of the college choir, playing gentle holiday tunes live.

The scene was beautiful, almost magical, but Spencer only took it in once as they entered. For the rest of the evening, his attention was solely on her—because, once again, he couldn’t find the words to describe what he was seeing.

And that didn’t happen very often.

"Do you think... do you think any of the other professors might disapprove of you being here with me?" she asked hesitantly as they made their way along the edge of the gym, skirting the buffet and staying far from the crowd dancing in the center.

For a moment, Spencer didn’t process her question. He was too focused on the way her lips moved as she spoke, too focused on her. Shaking himself out of it, he replayed her words in his mind.

"I… uh… no, I don’t think so," he replied, stumbling over his words. "Why would they? We’re both adults."

She still didn’t look convinced. Her brow furrowed, her gaze darting between the dance floor and him. Her hand rested lightly on his forearm, keeping them connected in the growing crowd, though she kept adjusting her grip as if unsure about the contact.

When Spencer tried to pull away, thinking she might be uncomfortable, she surprised him by grabbing his arm again, more firmly this time. Her insistence sent a strange, electrifying warmth through him.

He sighed softly, acutely aware of how close they were now—so close that their hips nearly brushed with every step. "Besides," he added, trying to sound reassuring, "this is a ball. Everyone’s here to have fun. No one’s going to pay any attention to us."

She nodded, as if trying to convince herself of the same thing, though her gaze drifted once more to the couples twirling around the dance floor. He felt a pang of apprehension, hoping she didn’t want to join them. That would be a disaster—he’d only manage to humiliate himself in front of her.

"I’m not much of a dancer," he blurted out quickly. "Okay, that’s an understatement. I’m a terrible dancer. You’d… you’d really rather not see me try, trust me."

For a moment, she stayed silent, her expression unreadable. Then, a small smile tugged at her lips.

"I, on the other hand, am a pretty good dancer," she admitted, attempting to sound modest. But after a beat, she rolled her eyes at herself and added with a wry laugh, "Okay, fine—I’m very good. My dad was a Dostoyevsky fanatic, but my mom? She was obsessed with dance. She practically dragged me to lessons for years. She thought it was a terrible shame not to know how to dance—especially for a man. No offense, of course."

Spencer ducked his head with a soft laugh.

"None taken. Listen, I believe you're a fantastic teacher... but I also believe I'm a lost cause. I might accidentally step on your feet..."

"You should pray that I don't step on your feet," she retorted with a laugh, extending her foot and tapping the heel of her shoe for emphasis. "But I think you should at least give it a try. After all, it’s a ball."

Spencer looked at her for a moment, caught between amusement and mild dread, before finally shrugging with a resigned grin. 

Earlier in life, he hadn’t had many opportunities to dance, so he was relieved that the piece being played by the school orchestra turned out to be incredibly slow. He could only cautiously mimic her movements, trying not to hurt her. However, focus came with difficulty as his nostrils were constantly filled with the sweet, distracting scent of her perfume and her body itself.

“You’re doing great,” she whispered softly, briefly lifting her gaze to him. He stared at her face for a moment, so close to his, cursing in his mind when she lowered her gaze again…

All evening, he had to fight with himself to avoid doing anything foolish.

But when, at midnight, they found themselves in his office, it became incredibly difficult.

Especially when she was slightly leaning against his desk, just in front of him, and the blush of dance-induced fatigue covered most of her neck. He wanted to touch that particular spot on her skin, expecting the blood to be pulsing there very quickly.

Her breath seemed quickened too, and every sound that escaped her lips drew him closer and closer to her. To the point where he thought he might lose his mind.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said, hoping that if he focused on the words, on speaking them, it might somehow sober him from this state. “I really... didn’t expect to have such a great time at the ball.”

Speaking wasn’t helping; the way her gaze wandered over him certainly wasn’t helping. The way the dress fit her body... none of it was helping.

"I'm glad," she said softly, the redness now covering not just her neck but most of her cheeks as well. She took a deep breath, as if calming herself. "You know, I felt a little guilty because I had the impression that you went there just for me."

"Well, I considered going alone... earlier," he confessed. "But in the end, I changed my mind, and I'm glad I did, because otherwise, I wouldn't have run into you, and I wouldn't remember any of this so clearly. Thank you," he repeated, and before he knew it, he was standing even closer to her, closer than propriety would dictate. Unable to fight it any longer, he reached for her hip, hidden beneath the fabric of her dress. She sharply inhaled, seeming embarrassed by her own reaction. He started to pull back, but then she lightly perched herself on the edge of the desk... and his hand slid down her body, gently grazing her knee. “"Really, I would like to thank you..."

His throat went dry, a nervous sweat rose on his neck. He felt her knee, then her thigh under his finger, his whole hand under the fabric of her dress, heading higher and higher…but suddenly stopped, when her trembling hands began to untie his tie.

"Probably... probably you're uncomfortable," she explained, swallowing. She looked at the collar of his shirt, at the place where his hands were, but couldn't bring herself to look him in the eyes. "It's a bit... stuffy in here."

He could feel the moisture on his fingers even though his fingers didn’t even get inside. He hesitated right there, glancing uncertainly at her face. Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing heavily, exhales escaping her lips with a quiet hiss.

"Are you okay?" he asked, making sure. He didn't like the fact that her eyes were closed; he couldn't read many emotions from her face, and he needed to be certain that this was what she wanted. Her face didn't even twitch at his question. "I won't do anything more if you don't answer me."

She swallowed, their faces were inches apart, and he could see and hear it.

"What... what would you like me to answer?"

"Just that you want this," he whispered.

"I want this...Spencer."

It was probably the first time she addressed him by his name, but the state he was in didn’t allow him to trust his memory too much. He hadn’t expected himself to ever think like that. In any case, it acted like a catalyst for him. Barely had the last syllable left her lips, his finger sank into her. 

One, and soon after, another.

His name escaped her lips again, but this time, halfway through, it turned into a sweet, pleading moan. For a while, no sound other than their restless breaths could be heard in the office. Her moan tore through the surroundings, pierced the air, and lodged itself there forever. Just as it became lodged in his ears, tickling them from within. He wanted to hear it again...He quickly found the rhythm that most often caused it.

She spread her legs wider which allowed him to get closer, to gain better access. At first, both of her hands were gripping the edge of the desk, her knuckles almost white. With each of his movements, stronger and gradually faster, they began to loosen slowly, until they finally released completely. Surprised, she sighed, not knowing where to place them, and threw them around his neck.

“Is… is this how you’re thanking me for today?’ she asked, her voice high, he could barely understand her through the chaotic breaths. He was so focused that he didn’t even notice she had opened her eyes. 

Her beautiful eyes. So pleading, begging him not to stop.

"Are you taking this as a form of thanks?"

She nodded, and at the same moment, she closed her eyes again, tilting her head back. Spencer groaned at the sight of her exposed neck, the blush covering it. He leaned to taste her warm skin, pressing his lips against it, then sighed directly into her, as a shiver ran through her entire body.

He had a feeling that if one more sound escaped her lips, he would simply lose his mind. Barely managed to speak again, his voice completely out of place with the words he intended to say, so high, almost crying.

"That's... that's not enough to thank you, don't you think?"

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @kakamixoxo @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony @heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @aristeia29 @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @nightfullofparadox

[dollyichi]

JUST SHUT UP!

kirishima eijirou always talks you through it. maybe a bit too much. ᯓ★ 1.8k words. m—dni. f ! reader / established relationship / f!ngering / unprotected (don’t be like them!) / reader’s very impatient and a little mean / sappy in one bit / not proofread

eijirou who’s doing his best to ignore his own cock that’s all twitchy and needy. already leaking with so much pre his cute red boxers had a big damp spot that you unfortunately couldn’t see. you’re laying on your chest with your ass up for him. face buried into the pillows as you bite into the cushion every time his fingers teased your hole.

however, he’s so fucking talkative it’s pissing you off. “baby you touched yourself lots didn’t ya?” he says with a huff, angling his fingers to that sweet spot you like so much. you groan into the pillow, grasping on the sheets. “you’re so wet and soft you don’t even realize i have three fingers in.”

“h-hahh! kiri just put i-it in… f-fuck-” you’re so sure your mouth is covered in your own spit from how long he’s kept you in that position. kneading your ass with one hand, fucking your pussy with the other. his fingers always felt better than your own and anything you use on it but it’s never enough when he can just fuck you with his dick.

“you mad at me baby? you don’t call me kiri remember?”

wasting so much time, unnecessary riling you up when you’ve been ‘so good’ for him preparing yourself so he could just jump you when he came over but no, he’s taking his sweet, sweet time prepping and fingering you as he pleased.

“don’t bite the pillow baby, i wanna hear you.” it’s so condescending almost. leaning over, whispering in your ear while his fingers continue to reach further and further. “come on, tell me how much you like it, wanna hear you some more.” this was probably the third time he’s ever fucked you ever since you’ve been together. the first time was nice, the second time was even better. a week has gone by and he was just so occupied that you made yourself busy.

you’re sick of doing it all alone and even when you mewl and whine, telling him whatever he’s doing ‘isn’t necessary anymore’ he refuses and tells you “awe hold on a little more i gotta do this for you baby~ just wanna take care of you.” and you huff and squeal, hiding your face away because you’ve really had enough. “searched up on it so i can make you feel even better.”

you really wonder how he gathered so much confidence in just a week when the past two encounters were him acting all shy. but then again, he could say the same for you. suddenly pulling him in a kiss and turning around so he could finally hold and touch you… though less holding as you wished.

he’s touched you so much you’re more sensitive than ever. you’ve lost all strength in your hands while you knees start to shake. “fuck baby your pussy’s so naughty. even louder than that pretty mouth of yours.” you don’t even know if your eyes are rolling back cause you’re so overwhelmed or frustrated. “you’re taking s’damn long eiji…” you croaked out, trying to lower your hips so you could turn around but he gets grip on you.

“hah… wanna fuck you so bad.” you whimper, moving your hips against his fingers to get some type of release. “wanna do it like this baby? or you wanna see your boyfriend make a mess of you?”

“wan-want to see you… eiji… p-please?” you ask with tearful eyes, looking back at him while your mouth quivers. he immediately gives in when he sees the drool at the corner of your lips. he pulls out his fingers and it’s still so slow.

he turns you around with ease, laying you down properly. kissing you all over your face, moving your hair out of the way. “i’m sorry baby i teased you too much didn’t i?”

you click your tongue, “you’re a d-dummy.” he chuckles, bringing his hand to your face that’s covered in slick. “you looked so good i wanna eat you out.”

“i’ll kill you if you make me wait again.” you sneer.

he takes his cock out of his boxers, teasing them in between your folds while he sucked on his fingers. “hahh baby you taste so good.”

“bet you’re just gonna gush around my cock when i finally put it in.” you wished he just shut up. “look how easy my cocks gliding through, so damn wet.” god you really wanted to shut him up.

so you swat his hand away from his own cock, lining him up yourself and pushing slightly, already engulfing his tip inside. he’s already moaning when he gets the feel of your walls clamping around him. “n-no baby~ i didn’t get to put a condom!”

you’re wrapping your legs around his waist and he had no choice but to move. his inches getting further and further up inside. breathy moans escaped his lips cause you’re still so tight even when he fingered you longer this time.

when he’s fully in a whimper escape his lips. ducking his head at the side of your neck, staying still for just a little while because he was sure he was gonna cum right there. “s-shit… your pretty little cunt’s just so good for me baby. s’too good for me.” your wrap your hands around him. a hand rubbing the back of head. it was sweet, as if you were the one comforting him. but you never recalled caring even a little bit.

you move by yourself, bucking your hips upwards, making sure you feel all of him. “s-s’big eiji~” he hisses when he’s balls deep in. and you’re moaning so sweetly whenever his tip hit that extra special spot that only his cock can reach.

“hnghh no baby don’t move y-yet~ just wait a little bit-“ as if you were gonna listen to him like he refused you earlier. your grip on his is just so deliciously tight he’s really gathering whatever strength he has in his head to not cum. definitely not manly when his lover doesn’t cum first.

“please s-stop baby i’ll move okay? we’ll p-pace it out together.” and you don’t listen. again pathetically rutting up against him. but he stops you just in time with his hands on your hips. pushing it down while he tries to distract himself by the wallpaper you have in your room.

you groan in his ear, whispering how much you needed him. complaining about how much he teased you, how he’s wasting so much time. “eiji just fuck me.” god even your voice alone’s gonna make him cum.

eijirou takes a breath through his nose, proceeds to leave kisses at the sides of your head as he finally thrusts.

in and out, in and out. you’re already scratching at the skin of his back. “h-ahh you love this baby? w-when i- when i f-fuck you like this?”

you hum, knowing your voice would break if you even muster up a sentence. your eyes flutter when he angled his hips. he’s just so deep inside. “could do this forever you know? fucking into your pussy.”

“pretty baby say my name so i can fuck you e-even harder.” he grunts. breathy and short while he’s busying his mind. it was a week for him you know? a week without you—he didn’t think he’d be this reactive to you. “e-eiji~” it’s so adorable to think how you were acting all mean earlier. “mhm baby. gonna fuck you so well to make up for lost time.”

eijirou’s jaw clenches with every thrust, building up the momentum, hips rolling against your that has you weaker and weaker. the sounds of your sex all wet and gushing around the room while the creaks of the bed echoed. you were sure of it that if any of your next-door neighbors were at home they’d hear you both fucking like rabbits. he’s fucking into you so hard you’re almost worried that the headboard would snap in half.

“i love you so much baby.” he’s so damn cute. you couldn’t help but sniffle on his shoulder. burying your face at the crook of his neck while he continued to exclaim his affection.

you admit, your impatience was just a facade under all that sadness you built up over the week. one message a day, no calls, an empty bed space, a lonely dinner—you’ve missed him so much. touching yourself was even worse because all you could see when you close your eyes is your lover talking to you. finally in such a warm embrace you’re hearing him. but in your defense, he just talks to much (you don’t hate it though!)

just a few more thrusts you knew the tight knot in your tummy’s going to snap any second. the more frantic you’re grasping onto him the easier he knew just how close you were. “tell me how it feels baby~”

“i love it!” was all that got out of you. repeatedly in between soft screams and whines. sobbing underneath him while you’re waiting for your release. “th-think i’m gonna cum too baby.”

“k-kiss… together…” he smiles, cupping your face to kiss you. smashing your lips against each other.

hips start to stagger. thrusts getting sloppier, sounds getting wetter. you’re both moaning on each other’s tongues that you had to pull away, “hnnghh! cumming! eiji!”

“i’m here baby, i’m here, let it all out. cum for me- cum for me baby.” and it hits you, crying out while you pull him onto your chest, walls gushing and twitching around him who’s fucking you through your orgasm. “you’re so perfect fuck.” his breath hitches when you clench around him again. your eyes continued to flutter, still in your own high.

“just a little more okay?” you whimper, this time no longer able to respond verbally. letting him use you despite how much it’s overwhelming you, how you could feel your slick and his tip hitting with his every movement, how his skin turned sticky against your because of the sweat.

kirishima rolls his hips a little more before pulling out swiftly. pulling you in a kiss while he jerked himself off, “gonna- g-gonna cum baby.”

you’re getting all worked up again seeing him desperately jerking himself off. “you’re so sexy eiji.” was the last thing he heard before his cock squirting pretty thick white lines of his cum on your tummy.

he plops down beside you and you play with the cum on you, slowly scooping them up with two fingers, sucking them off on your mouth and eijirou watches you with a gulp.

teasingly you tell him, “awe eiji~ you taste so good.” returning the ‘favor’ from earlier. he’s put himself in a trap, all out in the open like this. you just had no choice but to eat him all up again, this time with his mouth shut.

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : ohmygod writing this was like... i was in a trance. pls do not mind the minor mistakes it's like just typing one word after the other i just wanted to let this out!!!!! anyways i miss him so much actually can we please talk about him more >< also tried a gray theme for this one lmk if it’s nice ><

[fluffylino]

minho helps you let out your pent-up emotions

-contains mature themes

"you've been having an attitude since morning" minho hissed out, hips brutally thrusting into you.

"that isn't your p-problem" you practically shouted. body squirming from how much he had edged you.

minho's face morphing into an annoyed expression. your stomach doing flips when he shot you a glare.

you didn't mean to shout. he had unknowingly hit that spongey spot inside of you.

saying sorry was too late now. you had your pride. yet you were still scared of how he'd react.

"it is my fucking problem" he answered back, sitting on his haunches.

"if you're in pain. im in pain"

staring down at you. lazily thrusting inside of your sopping heat.

"start talking" you threw your head to the side.

whenever you got like this he'd make you open up. you were the type to keep things to yourself.

and minho knew about it.

you had even asked him to help you talk more about your feelings. why you had gotten so worked up. and snapped at him when he asked if you wanted to watch a movie with him.

"no..." you mumbled, eyes watering. he sighed, pushing his hair back.

"fine. be that way"

"i'll just fuck it out of you"

stifling your moans against your arm when he used all his strength to rail you. his hand roughly pulling your arm that was covering you mouth.

"m-minho" you mumbled, trying to look at him. but he ignored you. choosing to keep his eyes fixed on where he entered your cunt.

"minnie"

tears welling up in your eyes. a few slipping out. why wouldn't he look at you.

you deserved to be treated like this. he didn't deserve to be the brunt of your outburst.

his fingers reaching up to hold your waist. making you meet his thrusts. you felt like all your pent up emotions were letting loose. thighs trembling.

his eyes finally meeting yours.

he cooed.

"there we go..." a feeling of accomplishment in his tone. you were crying. broken sentences.

"n-not studied...exam"

he understood. humming in response. exams were in a month and you were stressed. you'd kept procrastinating until finally you were pacing.

it was all your fault. minho seemed to notice how you fell into a dark place.

choosing to ask you. yet you yelled at him. you didn't mean to hurt him. it was all a mistake.

"what do you have to say to me?" he whispered, just for you to hear.

"m'sorry. i didn't mean to be rude.."

"no more thinking now kitten. im here" you sniffled. feeling much better after he accepted your apology.

whining as he pulled out completely.

"get on top" he instructed, sitting upright. successfully pulling your limp body on him. gently lifting you up and sliding right back in.

"always so tight for me" he moaned out. you grinded down on him. letting out little noises as he made you ride him. hands firmly holding your waist.

lips kissing up your neck and gradually going lower. until he mouthed at your tits. sticking his tongue out playfully to toy at them. eyes locked onto yours with a flirty glimmer in them.

"h-hurts" you mumbled, thighs aching. you tried though to keep your composure. how could you let him do all the hard work.

instantly his hands slid down, kneading at your thighs. easing out your tense muscles.

"relax for me" he said in a hushed tone. practically melting against him. his dick still in you.

"let me take care of you princess"

.

.

.

[d3vilcvntz]

silly little crush ♡

top male reader x bottom male character

he has a crush on you for months but feels like he have no chance with you because of your difference in personality. you were the outgoing and loud type of person who have lots of friends. he's basically the opposite of you, shy and can barely makes any friends. he admired you since the first time you approached him. you were just asking the directions to the building as you're new in this department, but something about that small interaction drives him crazy and he doesn't know why. he keeps ignoring these feelings as it's just a silly little crush and he'll probably move on from it later.

he was 2 years older than you, making him your senior so you did talk to him quite a lot after that because he have more knowledge than you. asking him how to do this and that, he's not complaining though. it's actually part of his day that he really looks forward to, even though he doesn't want to admit it.

you did tried to invite him to hang out sometimes but each times, he would just declined and said that he's busy. he's not actually, he just hate interacting with people, other than you of course. he would be down to hang out if it's just two of you though, but it will be weird for him to ask so he just wait for you to do it first. he just doesn't want to be seen as desperate

and the wait is worth it because you did ended up inviting him to hang out at your place. innocently asking him to teach you how to organise some files because you didn't know how to, which is not the main reason why you invited him over obviously. you actually knew about his feelings but keep it casual to see if he'll do anything about it. you taken a liking to him too since the day you got the job. he looks so cool doing his works that it made you wonder how he'll looks like in bed, getting ruined by you

you got bored waiting so why not make the first move ? he arrived at your place and both of you started talking about works as he helped you organised the files like you asked. you offered him to drink with you and get to know each other, i mean, you guys are coworkers after all but barely knows anything about one another. both of you were slowly getting drunks while sharing some personal stories

honestly, it's your first time seeing him this talkative. he's usually quiet in the office. he's so cute like this <3 the way he laughed everytime you make a joke, even though it's a lame one "i actually don't have that much friends so I don't really enjoy going to work everyday.. well that's until i met you" he said, taking another sip on his drink. you were shocked at the sudden topic but just smiled at him, waiting for him to continue "you know..it's funny that i actually like you even though we barely know each other" he spoke again

you paused for a moment "is this a confession?" you teased him, looking at him directly "...what?...wait..wait! i didn't mean that way ! i mean.." he basically panicked, stuttering on his words, face flushed "im sorry..im sorry... i must have creep you out.. i just-" before he can even finish his sentence, you gave him a kiss on the lips, a quick one

he was shocked and quickly backed away, there's a lot he wanted to say and ask but he didn't know why he feels like all of it just got stuck in his throat "i like you too" you told him, getting closer to him. that just answered all of his questions. "the feelings are mutuals then?" you asked him, giving a little smile. he feels like he's about to burst

both of you were in your bed now, you pushed him down, making him lay on it "can i?" you asked, fingers fiddling with his buttons which he responded with a simple yes. you unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his body to you. he's so pretty ♡

his hands grabbed on your shirt, basically asking you to take it off too. you slide your hand in his pants, teasing his cock. he moans so sweetly in your ear <3 you want to hear more of it, no, you need to hear more of it. slowly pulling off his pants and underwear, pouring lube all over your fingers and sliding one of it inside him

you're trying your best to take it slow and make it enjoyable for both of you. you added more fingers as time went by, getting him all stretched out and ready for you

you were trying to grab the condom by your bedside before he stopped you, eyes avoiding yours "we don't need that..it's okay if it's you" he whispered softly. shit, don't think you can't even control yourself anymore if he's this cute !

pushing your cock into him, watching how his hole swallowed you up. thrusting into him with a slow pace to get him used to it. his hands gripping the sheets, soft moans filling up the room. you began to pick up the pace and thrust deeper into him, chasing your own orgasm as well as his

you both came soon after, holding onto each other. you laid beside him with your cock still inside him as you whispered nothing but sweets into his ear, calming him down from his high

you slowly pulled out your cock, earning cute whimpers from him "no...it's gonna leak out" he said so sweetly, shoving his fingers inside his hole to keep your cum inside

it takes everything in you to not just do another round but you wanted to be gentle as this is his first time after all <3 you stood up from the bed to prepare the bath for both of you, trying to distract yourself. you have to clean it all up after all, don't want to sleep all sweaty and sticky

sitting in the bathtub together, cuddling with him between your legs as he leaned onto your chest "this is like a dream to me" he suddenly said, looking up at you with a soft smile. ah, this might be the best day in your life <3

a/n: this is so normal compared to my other works lmfao

[seresinhangmanjake]

The Harkonnen's Claim

Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Reader

Summary: Your brother, Paul, took you from Feyd in a vulnerable moment, and if he wants the woman he loves back, he will have to give your brother something in return.

Notes/Warnings: this is part 2 of 2. Ignore canon ages in the timeline. I don’t know what they are, but everyone young is in their twenties, cool? Cool. Dune inaccuracies. Mention of pregnancy (present) and miscarriage (past). Jessica and Paul kind of (very much) suck. Feyd’s a soft boy for our reader. Smutty-ish (18+) and fluffy stuff, tidbit of angst. I'm sure there are spelling mistakes. I read it twenty times, but you know how it is. I think that’s it.

Words: 3300

Feyd Masterlist Part 1

You can’t see him—your eyelids are too heavy—but he’s shouting. Cursing. With each of his grunts glass shatters and metal clangs against the walls. Feminine voices are shrieking in sync with the rageful sounds coming from your lover and his actions. He is scaring them. He shouldn’t be scaring them. It isn’t their fault. 

“Get out!” he yells. 

More shrieks. Multiple pairs of feet rapidly shuffle about. The door slams and then Feyd is sitting beside you on the bed, one hand brushing your hair back from your forehead, the other rubbing up and down your forearm and pulling it onto his lap. 

“My love…” he says, “It’s ok. You’re ok.”

You swallow hard and peel open your eyelids to see his face hovering above you. A sigh leaves his lips when his eyes connect with yours.

“They were only here to help,” you mutter. 

Feyd bites down hard, sharpening the line of his jaw. He has much to say, you know, but he struggles to release his frustration in any manner other than shouting or fighting in the arena. Right now, he can’t do either.

“They did nothing to help,” he softly snaps. 

But he’s wrong. The women he brought in to examine you did exactly as they were told. It’s just that their conclusion upon taking a look at you was not what he, nor you, expected to hear. 

“Considering the excessive bleeding, she seems to have—” the woman paused; you could hear the tremble in her voice “—lost the baby, my Na-Baron. I’m very sorry.”

Neither of you has spoken about heirs or lineage or combining the genetics of Great Houses. You hadn’t even known of your pregnancy until you heard them tell Feyd that you are no longer carrying the child, and yet, you feel a tremendous loss. You instantly wonder what that child would have been. A boy? A girl? Would they have been a warrior like their father? Or more level-headed like their mother? Maybe a combination of both—that would probably be best for everyone.

“We’ll try again when you feel better,” Feyd tells you, leaning down and pressing his forehead into yours. 

Slowly closing your eyes, you reach a hand up to rest on the back of his neck, your thumb caressing between his ear and the curve of his jaw. “Feyd, we weren’t trying to begin with.”

“Does that mean we shouldn’t?” he asks. “You are meant to be the mother of my heir.”

You sigh. “Feyd–”

“You are,” he demands, but you can detect his hidden plea. “You will be.” 

—

They are scared of him—your son—or, at least, she is. 

With your ear pressed against the door, you can hear them in the halls. Mother and son arguing over your value. 

“Get rid of them, Paul, while you still can,” Lady Jessica implores him. “It’s in our best interest. You have no idea the kind of man she will raise that baby to be.”

But Paul has embraced his new role. There’s no hesitation in how he speaks to her anymore. His words are firm, but well-chosen. He truly was born to be a leader, just not the leader the Universe agreed on.  

“The boy will one day be the Baron, and by then, he will have grown stronger than most, his father included,” Paul confirms. “But we only benefit from having that on our side. From Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s need for my sister, an alliance will be formed that could last decades, maybe centuries. But if you harm her, he will come at us in a way his House never has before. And if he finds out you also took his child from him then he’ll spend the rest of his life hunting you, me, Alia…Chani…your future grandchildren—he won’t stop.”

Paul sighs. You can picture him running his hand through his curly locks. He’s done that ever since he was a child. From the moment his little hand could reach above his head, his fingers would be playing with that hair. His mother scolded him wherever he did it in front of the other families of great Houses. ‘Makes you appear anxious,’ she would say, and no son of hers was permitted to come off as anything but respectable in front of their equals. She knew of the man he would one day become. But her nagging didn’t help him in the end. 

“Paul, listen to m–”

“QUIET,” he commands in the Voice that seems to ripple through the halls. “You act as if I won that duel without effort. As if I could do it again in my sleep. But not only did he survive what should have killed him, he almost killed me,” he reminds her. “So do not let your hatred for my sister lead us down a vulnerable path.”

You pull your ear away from the door. How strange that you always knew she hated you and yet never heard it from anyone’s lips until now. You can’t say it hurts, but it does affirm that the only thing keeping you alive is the one thing you didn’t want to be: Feyd’s weakness. He’s saving you even though you’re out of reach. You and the baby he put inside of you. 

You run your hand over your clothed stomach. There’s no physical evidence of your pregnancy, but now that you know he’s there you can feel him…somehow. You feel his strength. You feel his grit. You feel what Lady Jessica fears, and you love it. You hope she lives in fear for many years, always keeping one eye on the half-Harkonnen child that her son commanded her to spare. 

The doorknob twists and you quickly back away as Paul steps into your bedroom. His brows pinch when he sees how you’re standing in the middle of the room. You’re not resting, you’re not admiring the scenery outside your window, there’s no book in your hand—you look suspicious. You can practically hear his thoughts. What were you doing, sister? 

“It’s time to go,” he tells you, stepping closer. You don’t have a chance to reply before the command “SLEEP” weaves into your brain. Your eyes close. Your body goes limp into your brother’s arms. Your mind shuts down. You’re gone. 

—

It’s bright. The inside of your eyelids are glowing the same orange shade as the flower your father traditionally gifted you on your birthday. It’s brighter than Caladan and Arrakis. A brightness you know only comes from Giedi Prime’s midday sun. 

You're moving but not by your own feet. Your eyelids flutter to adjust to your surroundings, and when they open, you find yourself tucked against a chest. An Atreides soldier, once your father’s, now sworn to serve your brother. 

“Put me down,” you mumble, but he doesn’t. “Put me down!”

“Put her down if she wants to be put down,” Paul says. “She won’t go anywhere. This is exactly where she wants to be.”

You’re set on your feet, but the soldier’s hand wraps around your bicep as the group comes to a halt. You do a quick glance around. Sixteen soldiers, suitably armed and shields activated. More on the ship likely, ready to attack if necessary. One Bene Gesserit bitch. One intended emperor with the skin of your brother. And you, anxiously awaiting him.

“Atreides!”

Feyd steps out of the Harkonnen fortress alone. He walks down the lengthy walkway alone. He has a blade at his hip, a shield, but no soldiers. You know they are somewhere, though, hiding, waiting for his call if needed.

As the distance between you lessens, tears attempt to blur your vision, but you blink them away. Your legs quiver, and you would collapse to your knees if not for the vice grip on your arm. He’s alive. He’s so beautifully alive. He’s broad, and strong, and he’s stomping toward your brother like a predator honing in on its prey. You didn't know for sure what he would look like after near death, and the last two weeks gave your mind the will to run wild, but he's perfect. Like it never happened.

“Paul, you must reconsider,” Lady Jessica whispers from behind him. “We do not need him.”

“I decide who and what we need,” he says. “My sister, my negotiations.”

She tips her head and steps back into place before shooting you a glare that you refuse to acknowledge.

Feyd is closing in, but his next step is deemed too close for Paul. Weapons are drawn. A blade presses into your neck. Feyd pauses. 

“Give me what's mine, Atreides!” he snaps. 

He’s seething and makes no attempt to hide it as he paces along the invisible line your brother has drawn. His brow is low, a shadow over the blue eyes piercing through Paul’s head. He hasn’t looked at you, but you know he won’t. Not directly. He already knows what your brother has over him and there’s no need to remind him by giving in to the internal panic he’s fighting. 

“Yours?” Paul returns. “She’s not yours yet, Harkonnen, so it would be wise of you to cooperate.”

Feyd practically growls, pale lips splitting to reveal black teeth as Paul gestures for you to stand beside him. The soldier shoves you forward and you turn to smack at his wrist. 

“I know how to walk,” you grumble. “Bastard.”

Paul clasps his hands behind his back. “You want her; that is understandable. She wants to be with you, too. You should have seen how she fell apart when she thought you were dead,” your brother taunts. His tongue clicks to make a tsking sound.

Feyd’s fingers twitch at his side, itching to grab the hilt of his knife. You know a layer of red bleeds across his vision. His thoughts are a jumble of demands bouncing around his skull. Kill. Maim. Destroy. Take what’s yours. But he can’t. And, excluding his uncle, Feyd hasn’t ever faced a situation where he can’t do as he pleases with whatever stands in front of him.

“Do not push him too far, Paul,” you mutter in warning. “He's not alone, either.”

Your brother ignores you, voice raising as he says, “And your son? You would like to have him as well, yes?”

The pacing stops. Feyd’s lips softly part. His eyes widen ever so slightly and he finally looks at you. When you lightly nod, his jaw clenches. 

Paul doesn’t miss the silent communication. “So,” he says, lifting his chin a half-inch, “are we calm now?”

Feyd inhales a deep breath and huffs it out through his nose. He does it again and again, chest puffing out then deflating like an animal desperate to strike. ‘Calm’ isn't exactly how you would describe him—good, you expect nothing less—but he’s not displaying the same heightened level of fury.

“What do you want, Atreides?” Feyd grunts.

“Loyalty,” Paul doesn’t hesitate to answer. “You are my cousin. You love my half-sister and the two of you will share a child, assuming you can behave yourself. Family should inherently be loyal to family, I believe. That’s a fair place to start.”

“To start?” Feyd spits. “Do not play with me, cousin. Tell me all that you want from me now.”

Paul’s lips curve in a slight smile. The same modest smile he used when greeting guests of your father’s. You have your own version of that smile. They are smiles capable of hiding secrets. Like the smiles you would give Lady Jessica in front of your father, and the smile Paul gave Princess Irulan when he formally claimed her hand days after the duel.

However, there are no secrets behind the smile this time. He knows exactly what he wants from your lover and takes pleasure in revealing the totality of it.

“This war is just beginning,” Paul tells Feyd. “The other Houses reject my leadership. You will not. You will make a public declaration that the Harkonnens will fight for me, alongside the Fremen,” he says. “If you refuse to fulfill this, I will return with every fighter I have. My sister will be our primary target and you will fail to protect her…again.”

The disrespect lingers in the air. To force a Harkonnen to kneel to an Atreides is a power Feyd once told you only you possess. But it appears Paul has forced an unexpected exception.

“There's nothing for you to debate, I imagine,” Paul says. “Not when it comes to the woman you love and your child.”

Paul gives a winning smirk at your lover’s silence—Feyd’s glare is answer enough. 

With a hand firmly on the center of your back, your brother guides you forward. “Go on,” he instructs. “There's no reason to keep him waiting.”

You turn your head back to Paul, expecting a trick, but when he nods in encouragement you rush over to Feyd in a light jog so as not to get tangled up in the skirts you can’t wait to tear off your body. A pale hand reaches out for you and curls around your waist when you’re close enough to be pulled against his chest. A kiss lands on your hairline before his forehead falls to rest on yours. 

“You're not hurt?” he asks. 

“I'm fine,” you promise him. 

“This will never have to become complex, Harkonnen,” Paul calls from his side. Your heads raise to look at him. “Your House now fights for mine. If loyalty is upheld, personal lines will not be crossed. In other words, your child and woman are safe from me as long as my empress, concubine, and children are safe from you.”

Feyd’s Adam’s apple bobs harshly with his hard swallow; another practice in tamping down his rage.

“I’m glad we can all walk away from this satisfied,” Paul continues, grinning ear to ear. “Except for my mother, of course. Were she given her way, my sister would be cut open on the floor and her womb ripped out of her. She doesn’t believe a Harkonnen can exercise restraint and respect agreements. I’m sure you’ll prove her wrong.”

Your dress tightens at your waist from Feyd’s fingers fisting into the material. “Keep your head,” you gently whisper. “Let him go.”

“You have three days to officially announce your allegiance,” Paul tells the two of you before turning to his ship. He enters first, followed by his mother who gives you a final look of disapproval, and then, two-by-two, his soldiers. Not until they’re a speck in the sky does Feyd place a hand on your cheek, guide your face to his, and seal his lips to yours. 

—

He intends to burn the dress to ash in the built-in incinerator that the Harkonnens consider a fireplace. Before now, you haven’t seen it demonstrate its purpose. Feyd refused. “We do not need that,” he would tell you, somewhat offended when you would request a bit more warmth in the middle of the night while he was next to you. He’d strip himself of any clothing he might’ve been wearing and tuck you into his side. “See? You’re fine now.”

Tonight, however, he’s quick to turn the thing on and let it heat up as he takes his knife to the back of your gown, slicing through the buttons that trace along your spine until the material slips off your body. He helps you out of the ring of destroyed fabric at your feet before wadding it into a ball and tossing it into the flames. 

Feyd hums, satisfied, then piece by piece the armor falls from his form until he’s bare with his body to yours, his lips sucking and nibbling, fingers kneading and exploring, cock easing in and out of your core. You cry as he bites into your neck, and soak in the moment for what it is compared to what it could have been had he not survived. How alone you would be. How distraught over what would become of you.

But he did survive. He’s here. You have him. His lips and teeth and touch and cock and heart—all yours. You have the warmth of his breath that brushes your face and neck and shoulders. You have his groans and moans; the perfect sounds he makes when he first enters you and when he cums. Everything you thought you’d lost is wrapped tightly in your arms. Safe. Protected.

He finishes inside of you twice, and as he begs for one more, the ache between your thighs tempts you to remind him he already got you pregnant. But when you study the tenderness in his eyes, your desire refreshes, the pain washes away, and you can’t get enough. You take until he can no longer give—when all he has the energy for is holding and kissing. 

Feyd leans over you in the bed, your legs intertwined under the sheets and his hand at the back of your head as his mouth moves with yours. 

“W-Wait,” you say between kisses. He hums against your lips and when you tilt your head back, he makes a noise of protest before joining them again. “I-I’m ser-ious.”

With his brow pinched, he pulls back to stare into your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you search for a delicate way to question the effectiveness of his new authority. “Feyd, what’s going to happen? What will everyone think?” you ask. “Your people? Your soldiers?”

“That’s what bothers you right now while in this bed with me?” You nod. He sighs. “I observed my uncle in his time as Baron. I’m capable of explaining these changes in a manner that will have them think nothing of it. Should an outlier take issue, they will face the known consequences. The rest will do as I command,” he says, emphasizing his words with another kiss. “Just as they will do as you command and as our son will one day command.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be silly. No one on Giedi Prime will listen to me,” you tell him. “My voice doesn’t mean anything to them.”

“They'll respect the voice of their Baroness.” 

Your brows raise. “Your wife?”

Feyd smirks and dips his head into the curve of your neck to lick and suck at sensitive skin. “Do you have objections, my love?”

It would be a lie to say you haven’t imagined being Feyd’s wife. It didn’t occupy your every thought, but it crossed your mind. Like when he would pluck out the eyes of the men who leered at you or remove the tongues of those who scoffed when you spoke. Or when you would watch him sleep and his face was unable to maintain the hard, stony stare that he brought back with him after dealing with his uncle. He’d be serene, the epitome of peace, and it was so lovely that sometimes you couldn’t help yourself. You would kiss his puffy lips until he woke to reciprocate, which led to him spreading your legs wide and stuffing his hard column of flesh between your folds. His ability to be gentle in his cruel world was how you knew he would be a good husband—to you, anyway. You have no idea the fate of his marriage were there a different bride.

His tongue runs over the bite mark and you gasp. “N-No.”

Lips trail along your jawline as his hand slides from the base of your neck between the valley of your breasts to settle on your stomach. 

“He'll be strong,” Feyd says, looking at you. “Our boy.”

You chuckle. “Stronger than you, I heard.”

Feyd swallows, then nods in acceptance. “Good. He’ll need to be,” he says, thumb stroking just above your navel. “The only Atreides my son will answer to is his mother.”

A/N: i'd be open to doing future fics for them if anyone is interested. you can send in requests if you want, no pressure. I have a different feyd fic in the works atm as well

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