#probably my most genius thought ever

[clovis-enthusiast]

(head)canon that anytime a hermes camper finds a hypnos kid hardcore snoozin around camp, they immediately position them into the family guy death pose. do they even know what family guy is? probably not. there's just some deep, profound instinct within them that guides them to complete what must be done.

[auroralwriting]

the gun

spencer reid x genius!bau!reader

oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, they both reached for the gun, the gun, the gun…

"you just needed to prove to Spencer, once and for all, that you had all the skills to be the best agent, the best genius."

word count: 2.3k

warnings: cm violence, blood, enemies to lovers, kinda rushed im sorryyyy, fem reader slightly mentioned

a continuation of this story can be found here

Spencer and you always competed. He had an eidetic memory, you had a photographic.

The difference between you two was anything you ever saw, read, you held in long-term memory. Spencer’s, though, resided in short term. However, Spencer was also an autodidact, meaning he could teach himself anything. You also had a vast emotional intelligence. You had such strong empathy, you could detect any micro-detail anyone displayed, making you the perfect lie-detector one that even Hotch couldn’t evade.

Spencer was Jason Gideon’s special boy. Gideon helped Spencer make his way in the BAU. You were David Rossi’s special girl, him noticing your skills from a young age when he met you during a case. He guided you to make all the best choices, leading you to the BAU as well. It took a few years, timing and all, but you got there.

When Dave transferred to Quantico’s BAU, he requested your transfer as well. He thought you would mesh well with the team. More specifically, he assumed you and Spencer would become a genius duo; totally unstoppable.

Oh, how wrong he was. It was from the moment you’d corrected Spencer on some statistic he spewed, you both became enemies forced to co-exist on the same team. There was never a civil moment, always some fight. It was sad, too. You remembered the first time you saw him, you were struck by how cute he was. Too bad he decided to hate you before you got a chance.

Vividly, you remembered the most intense fight you both had.

“So someone with a medical degree,” Hotch muttered. “That’s got to be impossible.”

“It’s more likely that have a nursing degree.” Spencer replied. “We’d be looking at around one hundred eighty thousand people a year. If our unsub is a new graduate, that’s the numbers we’d be looking through.”

You shook your head, “It’s actually one hundred fifty seven thousand. Also, narrow it down to nursing degrees in New York, and you get around eight thousand. Eleven percent were men, so around six hundred. Lower it even more to those who don’t have any family members, most likely from group homes, you can get maybe seventy?”

oh, yes

Garcia clacked away at her keyboard, “My baby’s got it! Seventy two people. If we’re looking at NYU specifically, thirteen.”

Pride filled your system. It was fulfilling when you were able to get things right. Spencer, on the other hand, wasn’t too happy about that.

“You know, nobody asked your opinion.” He scoffed.

“It isn’t opinion, Reid. It’s purely fact, ones you should probably get right.” Your reply had Spencer clenching his fists.

How dare you insult his intelligence? His IQ was much larger than yours, you weren’t one to speak on that. “Maybe you should focus on the case instead of trying to be a people pleaser,” Spencer sneered your way.

His reply made you roll your eyes, “At least I can tell what people want. You’re oblivious, Reid.”

oh, yes

Slowly, the two of you began to go back and forth, your voices raising. Before the situation blew up, Hotch stepped in, trying to mediate. However, Spencer mumbled something under his breath, something you couldn’t just let go. It hurt, stung like a bee, and you weren’t going to let him walk away feeling victorious.

“At least my mentor didn’t up and leave me.” you snapped. “He’s still with me, he didn’t just vanish with a stupid little note as a dingy goodbye.”

Spencer had paused, face dropping. You read him like a book, you’d gone too far. He showed minuscule signs of distress, grief, sadness. The room was silent, no one quite knew what to say.

oh, yes

“Reid, I-”

“Save it.”

Spencer had walked away, leaving you to feel shameful of your words. Rossi just squeezed your shoulder. The man knew you didn’t mean it.

they both

Since then, it was like the two of you were on each other’s cases, constantly bickering and arguing. Now, you were almost subconsciously battling each other for the genius role of the team. Was there any need to? No, not at all, but your fights had become not a battle, but a war.

You stood outside the bank with your team. “They have hostages,” You identified, attempting to peer inside. “There’s no way we can go in. It’s a suicide-murder mission.”

oh, yes

“There’s gotta be a way,” JJ shook her head. “Maybe there’s another way in.”

“It doesn’t look like it,” Derek sighed.

After a few hours, Will made the decision to go inside. You had to help hold back JJ as he walked in. Hearing the bullets made you sick. You physically had to double over, holding back the tears. It suddenly hit you how dire the situation was. You went back to the van with the team. No one really knew what to say.

"Did you see where he was shot?" JJ asked. "Is he alive or dead, Garcia?"

Penelope's breath was shaky, "I don't know."

"He was wearing a vest." Emily reasoned. "He might be okay."

JJ gave a smile, but it was one of disbelief. "Might be," She muttered, shaking her head in reply.

It was then that the team decided to go in. You shoved your gun in your holster, "I'll take first point," You offered. "Check and see if Will's okay. I'll try and manipulate them into letting me go to him." Hotch nodded. With your knowledge of psychology and your emotional intelligence, Hotch knew you could do it.

they both

"L/n, it's too dangerous." You heard Spencer say over the phone. "Just wait for me to tell you where to go in."

You rolled your eyes, "Reid, I'm not stupid. I've handled multiple hostage situations."

Spencer didn't reply. You liked that. This was the first time you'd be able to prove yourself without Spencer's help. This was honestly just a way for you to prove you were the better of the two. Your actions were motivated by the desire to be the best; a classic narcissistic move. You weren't a narcissist, though. You just needed to prove to Spencer, once and for all, that you had all the skills to be the best agent, the best genius.

Oddly enough, hostages flooded out of the bank as you made your way back outside. Maybe Will was alive and managed to get them all out. Once none more came out, you and two other cops began to make your way inside stealthily.

Right as you got in the middle of the bank, you heard Rossi's panicked voice over your comms, "Abort, abort!"

oh, yes

There was no time to reply. It all happened so suddenly. You heard the explosion before you felt it. It was hard to breathe. You couldn't see, hear. It slowly registered that there was a bomb, and it went off.

they both reached for

You had no clue where you had been thrown to. Everything felt cold, really cold. A loud ringing filled your ears as you slowly sat up. You touched your head, pulling back to feel stickiness on your fingers. Your vision was blurry, but you knew it was blood. You had to get out of the building. You needed help, medics, your team. Was anyone else in your team inside yet?

they both reached for the gun

A grunt left your lips as you stood up. You felt your legs give out under you, and you went down again. The desire to live was stronger than your physical weakness, and you stood up again. It was so dusty and hazy that you couldn't see. You leaned on the nearest wall for support, slowly using it to try and find your way out of the building. All that you heard in your head was get out, survive, get out, survive.

After what felt like ages, you felt a breeze against your skin. You followed it, hoping it would lead out, and it did. The light was harsh on your eyes as you tried to scan the area. It was then you saw Spencer and Hotch-- what was Spencer doing here? He was still at the BAU last you'd checked. Maybe the blast knocked you out cold.

Trudging your way over, you weakly called out. "Aaron, Spencer,"

the gun

Spencer knew he heard his name. He looked up from the blueprints of the building to see you, blood covering different parts of your body, your skin covered in debris and dust. You had limp, and your eyes were blown out. "Oh my god," he muttered, running over to you.

the gun

The genius took your in his arms as you fell into him, "How'd you get here?" you asked. "What's for dinner?"

Spencer took notice of your confusion as he allowed you to lean on him. He took your face in his hands, "Y/n, look at me. Focus on me,"

the gun

You couldn't directly look at him. Your eyes darted all over the place. "Where's Rossi? Did he go in?"

"No, Rossi's okay." Spencer leaned over his shoulder, "We need a medic!" He yelled, quickly turning his attention back to you. "It's okay, you're okay."

oh, yes

"I can't feel anything," you breathed out, "That can't be normal. Is that normal? Spencer, am I dying?"

oh, yes

Spencer shook his head, "You're okay, it's okay."

"I can't die," You softly whimpered. "I'm sorry, Spencer. 'M so mean to you, I don't mean to be."

Deep down, Spencer knew you meant what you were saying. The fear of dying without getting your true feelings out always lead to admissions of the truth. "I know, I know," Spencer smoothed your hair. "I don't hate you, I don't. You're going to be okay." Spencer slowly became anxious as he noticed the amount of blood seeping from your head. "Look at me, please, keep talking to me."

"'M sorry," You muttered, feeling your eyes grow heavy. Spencer's face began to fade as you collapsed in his arms.

Spencer felt his breathing grow heavy as he held you tightly. "Medic! She's-- oh, god, Help!"

they both reached for the gun.

A steady beeping was the first thing you heard as you woke up. The light was a blinding white, and you let out a groan at it. Your body hurt like hell, and your head was pounding.

"Shh, shh. It's okay, here, let me just--"

The white lights went out and all that was left was the stream of daylight coming through the windows, along with a lamp that was a warmer light. It was much more comfortable that way. You quickly guessed you were in a hospital. The beeping, white lights, smell of rubbing alcohol that you just identified.

"How do you feel?"

Spencer. You turned your head to look at him. His face held deep concern. He was holding your hand. "I--" You paused, considering his question. "I feel like shit."

He let out a soft chuckle, "Yeah. You kind of got exploded." That's right, the bomb.

"Oh, Will, the team, are they okay?" You softly asked.

Spencer nodded, "Everyone's okay, we got the unsubs. It's all okay now."

You remembered Spencer's words. You should have waited to go in. If you had waited, maybe you wouldn't be in this situation right now. "I should've listened to you." You stated weakly. "You were right. I was being stupid."

"Hey, no," Spencer quickly interrupted. "You were doing your job."

"I wasn't," you shook your head. "I wanted to prove myself. I-I wanted.. to show that I didn't just do victimology and simple hostage relief situations. I wanted to prove myself like you have." You stopped, sucking in a pained breath. You felt your eyes become glassy. "I wanted to prove to everyone I was just as good as you."

Spencer felt his heart break at your words. You both knew overall, he was smarter. It never occurred to him that your constant bickering was to prove yourself, and not to prove him wrong. "You're better." Spencer decided to say. "I mean, I can't relate to our victims, hell, our unsubs the way you can."

"Spencer,"

"I'm serious." He continued. "You're so important to this team. You-you push us to be better." Spencer cleared his throat, "You push me to be better."

You stared at Spencer blankly for a moment, "I never told you that I like this haircut."

Spencer gave you a slightly surprised look. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," You hummed. "It makes you look, I don't know, less like Einstein and more like, uh, a really smart James Dean."

"James Dean," Spencer repeated, "I've never gotten that one before. Are those meds talking right now?"

You shook your head slowly, "Probably the clearest I've thought in a while." You replied, causing Spencer to smile. "Why did you stay with me?"

Spencer paused for a moment, "I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know we bicker a lot. Well, more than a lot. Probably several times a day, but I still care about you. I-I was.. really scared for you. I don't think I could forgive myself if I let you walk in there and you'd died."

"It wouldn't have been your fault," You tried. Spencer just shook his head.

"It would have been. I should've rationalized it with you. When I saw you, I just thought, 'What have I been doing this whole time? Have I really been wasting my breath arguing with you when we could've made the best team'? I remember when Rossi first introduced you, I was like, 'No way someone this pretty is doing this', when you should've been some model or something." Spencer rambled. He did that, paired with hand fidgeting, when he was nervous. He rambled as he played with your fingers.

You took a breath in, hoping for the best. "Hey, maybe we could, uh, go to one of those team based trivia nights at O'Keefe's?"

"Are-are you asking me out?" Spencer asked.

"Only if you're saying yes." You responded. "I, uh, maybe thought we could start over."

Spencer gave a chuckle, "Yeah, trivia night sounds good. I'd like a retry at this. Maybe we're, uh, meant to be more than just a team."

You smiled at him, knowing that a simple friendship wouldn't be highest point of your new relationship with the genius.

[hoshigray]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - oral (m! receiving) - ball-massaging - face + throat-fucking - praise - pet names (baby, cutie, mama, sweet thing) - implied that reader has given oral prior - first-time Toji finding enjoyment in receiving oral - heavy depictions of a blowjob - mention of spit.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: "Toji has never really enjoyed oral. At least, not until Y/n went down on them for the first time…"

I was playing with NSFW prompts for the first time, and this was literally the first one it gave me…genius. (¬‿¬) guess kinda a switch-up from this oldie i did~ hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and New Year's, accept this as my welcome back present, hehe~ also tysm for 4.6k, hello????

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k

“…Hey, Toji?” 

“Yeah, baby?”

“…Can I…..give you a blowjob?”

Up until this point, Toji was never one to be given oral from anyone. 

Giving oral isn’t a problem. But receiving it from someone else? That’s another thing. Call it his personal preference or years of sexual experience, but the older man never actually found pleasure in it. It could be from the many inexperienced minxs he’s had to get his dick wet, whose frequent teeth and bites sabotaged the mood for him. Or probably from the others who just really didn’t appear to know what they were doing — again, ruining the mood. Or the fact that most of the time, as mentioned, he finds himself satisfying his partner at the time more than himself. 

Not that he minds at all; no, no. He finds great satisfaction in going in between someone’s legs and getting them turned on from his work. But when it comes to the thought of having his dick sucked, it’s a hard pass. Respectfully. 

Which brings us to the present: him on the couch with an arm wrapped behind your shoulders, bringing you close to him as you watch television comfortably. The ceiling lights dimmed to a warm low glow, your head draped on his shoulder as his hand rubs comforting circles on yours, and the silence only filled with the voices coming from the TV isn’t awkward in the presence of you two. Why would it be? He’s with you, his little sweet thing. And that’s all he wants right now.

So, after all the fidgeting with your thumbs and the occasion glances at him (which he noticed, of course), it was apparent that you’d soon ask him something out of the blue. What he hadn’t expected, though, was that question. 

“Pfft, that’s random,” he scoffs at the sudden question, and more subtle chuckles resort from the bashful turn of your head. God, you were so cute. “Why ask, sweet thing?”

“I was…just wondering, you know?” Your eyes travel down to your twiddling thumbs, avoiding Toji’s deep, observant emerald gaze. “We’ve been together for this long, and not once have I ever given you a blowjob. And I know, you always say you’re fine with it, but like…I really wanna give you one.”

And that’s when you muster up some confidence to peer up at him meekly, and that’s what seals the deal for Toji. Who is he to deny such puppy dog eyes from his baby? 

“Okay then,” he chortles with a smirk, the scar on his right side rooted up. It’s just a blowjob. If not for me, then for them. “Do what you do, cutie.” Little did he know that this would blow his expectations far out.

It started out nice and slow. Toji indulged in your kisses as you snuck your hand into the hem of his drawstring pants, sucking on his tongue while fingers crept inside his boxer briefs to give his cock a rub. He groans into your mouth, liking how you’re setting the mood until you take your lips away from his and slide off the couch to be between his legs. Removing his underwear to the floor, you examine his half-soft dick before using your hands to wrap around the base, massaging around it while you take the tip in your mouth. Toji sighs in bliss at the feeling of your soft licks and rolls of your tongue, shifting around to get more comfortable on the couch.

His erection becomes less and less flaccid, hardening around your mouth. This is where you decide to take in more of his length, hallowing your cheeks as you push your puffy lips down halfway down his erection. By the time you reach this base, your throat is so full of Toji’s girth that you use his sweatpants as reins for your hands as you try to give yourself a few seconds to adjust to the limb occupying your throat. You continue to suck on his cock, bobbing up and down with your saliva coating him, your tongue moving around on the underside of his dick every time you suck up to the tippy top. 

The sucks and strokes to his length become a little faster, and it’s here that Toji can’t concentrate on the television. Subtle twitches of his leg result from the hummed moan you express while taking him to the hilt. The vibrations that resonate along the inner walls of your throat are felt. It feels so good. And the tongue of yours? Fuck. His brows trench down when your tongue licks from the bottom of his ridge to the frenulum, giving his cockhead an onslaught of rough licks and kisses that has Toji exhale through his nose. “Hmmnn, fuck…Y/n, baby, y’re so good at this…Uhghh!”

You release his tip with a soft ‘plop’ with a string of saliva connecting your lips to his spit-covered cock. “Ahahhn, really?” Oh, fucking shit, don’t look at him like that. Your hooded eyes peering up at him with a soft smile while your hands maintain a stroking rhythm that has Toji squirm around your grasp. And then you surprise him with a grasp of his ballsack, oh you’re a devilish cutie. “That makes me happy to know,” you give him a giggle when Toji involuntarily bucks to your hands; the veiny limb contrasting with your pretty fingers is such a sight to see. The pulsating commotion between your legs progresses more by the second.

More dangerous licks paired with the massage to his balls as Toji huff is bliss. “Ahhh, sh–shit…Ya like how my dick tastes, mama?”

Taking his cock back into your mouth with alluringly half-lidded eyes is the answer you give him, your lips covering your teeth as your jaw relaxes to welcome his neither limb back inside your warm oral cavity. The suction of your hallow cheeks became lethal with the increased speed, your tongue now swirling around him and creating such deviant noises that only Toji focuses on despite the television vices failing to drown them out. 

Holy shit, Toji wasn’t expecting this kind of treatment at all. This was downright out of the water from all the other oral ordeals he’s had in his life. How the fuck were you so good at this!? Cupping his balls while slurping his dick was such a dangerous combo; Toji doesn’t know how long he’ll contain the urge to stand and fuck your face here and now. Goddamn, the faster you bob your lips on him, the shiver down his spine is hard to ignore. His hips jerking to your mouth; he wants to fuck your face so bad. And just looking at your ass sway while you suck on him, he knows you’re enjoying this as well. 

It reaches a point where he can’t take it anymore — he wants to go faster and harder. So Toji grabs your head as he stands up and dials the tempo to a harsher motion, propelling your lips down to his pelvis. And you’re quick not to panic, being sure to breathe when Toji smacks his testicles to your chin and ruts into your face and throat with no mercy. Toji moans at the sensation of your gummy walls wrapping around his length, hissing at your muffled wails as he hits the back of your throat. “Fsshhh—Hnngh!! Fuckin’ shit, just like that, mama, just like that…Ohhggh!”

You can feel the veins on his girth pulsate, indicating that his release is soon coming. The thrusts to your face get erratically faster, so you’re sure to grab onto his sweatpants to make sure you don’t lose balance as he spills his load down your throat. Ending it with a few rough hits to your lips, Toji groans with gritted teeth, shaky, strong legs pumping his semen for you to drink, which you merrily take with muzzled squeals on his shaft. The both of you experience the last moment of this euphoric high until Toji’s body calms down, heavy breaths going slower with every expel. He gives you a few moments to suck him off a little more before removing himself from you, gradually pulling his length, quivering with the aftershocks at the dismissal of your warm walls around him. And he jolts when you tease him with one last lick to the sensitive tip. 

“Hahhh, damn, cutie,” Toji takes a seat back on the couch, eyeing you down with a weary smirk and furrowed brows. “Since when did ya like to get down and dirty?”

You sheepishly smile back and avert your eyes down, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I’m glad you liked it, Toji.” 

“Sure as hell did,” he bends down to grab your chin and bring you in for a kiss. The squeaks you let out when he bites your lips are too adorable and hot to his ears. “Want me to eat you out, sweet thing?”

“Really?” God, you were too cute — beaming at him like that with such a lovely smile. 

“Sure thing. Besides, I saw the way you were movin' that ass while suckin’ me off. So, I got you,” Toji takes off his sweatpants, moving his legs to be on the couch entirely. His dick is still standing erect, and he gives you a suggestive grin before tapping his chest, a sign for you to get ready and sit on him. “Only if ya can do that shit on me again.” The request takes you aback for a minute, but you chuckle and stand up. You remove your bottoms and underwear, and Toji notices the wet spot on the material. 

Again, Toji is never one to be given oral. But if he’s going to be treated like this, you might be able to change his mind.

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2023 – dividers from @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[astridthevalkyrie]

“You think people ever look at us and wonder why you would be with me?” Rafayel had frozen in place, his hand mid paint stroke as he gazed down at you from his ladder. You’d been curled up on the couch, watching him comfortably while your thoughts took a depressing turn that was anything but comfortable. “No,” he’d said, “absolutely not. No one in their right mind would think that.”

contains: afab reader, edging, rafayel making reader praise themselves, rafayel speaks in hindi, probably ooc and with grammatical errors sorry i wrote this all in like one hour at 10 PM and i was crying for half of it

it's been a while since my own insecurities have actually given me the creative kick to write something like this, so sucks to be insecure i guess, but yay fic!!!!

Insecurity. What a bitch.

It’s life-ruining, at its worst. It makes you look into the mirror and imagine even the reflection looking back and sneering at what it sees. It makes your heart pound as you walk in public, wondering how many people would smile once they get the privilege of losing sight of you. It makes you sob at night when you’re alone, mind knowing that there is no one in the world who is uniquely terrible, but your heart convinced that you’re the exception.

It makes you say something, accidentally, to your boyfriend.

“You think people ever look at us and wonder why you would be with me?”

Rafayel had frozen in place, his hand mid paint stroke as he gazed down at you from his ladder. You’d been curled up on the couch, watching him comfortably while your thoughts took a depressing turn that was anything but comfortable.

“No,” he’d said, “absolutely not. No one in their right mind would think that.”

If you’d been more acute in the moment, you might have heard the warning in his voice, the irk of a god who has just had his most precious jewel taunted.

But you’d continued instead. “They would. You’re so handsome, so gorgeous. Ethereal. Not to mention incredibly talented. And I love you, and I think we’re really compatible personality wise, but looks…you have to admit you could do a lot better.”

It was then you’d began to note how it felt much hotter in the studio than it had a few minutes ago. Like there was an unseen furnace, prickling with an angry fire about to grow into an inferno.

Rafayel’s voice had been, ironically, icy. “How could I do better than you?”

“C’mon, be real, Raf.” It had been hard to keep the pain out of your words, and impossible to keep the thoughts choking you inside. You’d started to plead, some part of you convinced that it would help if he would simply agree that your every insecurity was valid. “I’m not a supermodel. I’m not a genius. I’m not an angel, either. There’s nothing about me that’s extraordinary. Not like you are.”

And then he’d moved.

And now, you’re still on the couch, crying out brokenly with nothing to grip onto, as his hand holds your wrists above your head, and his cock thrusts in and out of you in the most maddening pace you’ve ever experienced.

He’s never been like this. When you plead, Rafayel gives in. He is weak to you, as he’s shown time and time again. But not today. No matter how much you beg with teary eyes for him to go faster, he shakes his head, slowing down even more. With a punishing growl, he pushes all the way in, and all the way out, leaving your drooling cunt clenching around nothing.

It’s torture. Pure and simple.

“What was it you said?” he breathes harshly, leaning down to press hot kisses on your neck that burn so perfectly you sob. “Ethereal? Talented? A supermodel?”

“Rafayel,” you gasp. He ignores it. His eyes are a violent shade of purple, the most dangerous you’ve ever seen them. There are scales blooming all over his body, as though denying you is the key to awake this dormant side of him, to make you submit.

“I’ll give you what you want,” he whispers, biting and leaving a fresh bruise planted on your skin. “Just tell me what I want to hear. Go on.”

He pulls out and you feel the tears running down your cheeks.

“Say, ‘I’m beautiful.’”

In.

“Say, ‘I’m gorgeous.’”

Out.

“Say, “I’m fucking ethereal.’”

You can taste salt from your own sobs, both from being denied, and from the unimaginable cruelty of having to praise yourself. It’s impossible. You want the reward so bad, but you can’t claw your way to it, because the rules are too imposing. The conditions, blinding.

“Be real,” he taunts, repeating your own words back to you, “come on, start easy. ‘I’m pretty.’ Go on.”

Heaving in a breath, you taste the bitter words on your tongue. “I-I’m pretty.”

Your back arches off the couch as he rewards you with his fingers on your clit, rubbing soft circles while he’s inside you. “Mmhm. You are. And?”

“Please, Rafayel.” You’re clenching so tight around him, and you can see from how he shudders that it pains him just as much as it pains you, this wait, this little game of keep-away. “Please don’t make me—“

You’re cut off by his hand cupping your cheeks, and his lips stealing a salty, breathless kiss. “Meri pyaari gurya,” he groans, kissing you again, “meri chand.” Kiss. “Meri humsafar.” Kiss. “Mine, mine, mine.” Kiss, kiss, kiss. "Do you think I keep anything that isn’t worthy of the Sea God?”

You shut your eyes, crying harder. The logic is loud, but your thoughts are louder. He’s only saying it to reassure you, he’s only saying it to be nice, he’s only saying it because he pities you…

“Meri dulhaniya,” he saves for last, because he knows it’ll break you, “I have nowhere to be. I’m fine staying buried inside you, all day and all night, while your sweet little pussy gushes for me. I’ll bring you to the brink, again and again, but I won’t let you cum, my pretty muse, because either you admit that you’re the most beautiful human in this world, or I’ll fuck it into you till you forget otherwise.”

Trembling, you open your eyes. There is nothing but conviction in his gaze. Conviction, and hunger.

And you realize two very important things. One, that your stamina is nothing compared to his, and you will never hold out against him, and two, that is not something one does out of pity, but out of unyielding, undying adoration.

“I’m,” you swallow, cheeks burning, “beautiful.”

A sharp thrust of his hips makes you moan his name, mouth falling open as he kisses you deeply, and you swear you can feel him hardening even more inside you.

“I’m gorgeous.”

“Yes,” Rafayel hisses, fingers rubbing your clit to match his thrusts.

Eyes rolling back, you cry out, “I-I’m…”

“Fucking ethereal,” he provides, and you think you can feel fire flicking from his lips on your cheeks.

“Fucking ethereal,” you whine, pulling him into a kiss this time.

His hips slam against yours and you cry out against his mouth as his tongue ravages yours. There is nothing Rafayel hates more than someone misunderstanding his art, least of all the art itself.

Your toes curl and your nerves are electrified, everything fading away except you and Rafayel, and his cock and his fingers and his lips, and the couch he’s pounding you into, and you tug at his hair and practically scream as you cum.

He’s still softly licking at your lips as you come down from your high, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. The air escaping you is light, and for the first time in a long time, there is nothing stuck in your chest, a soft fluttery feeling replacing the heaviness that you’ve been carrying what feels like your whole life.

Gazing back up your lover, you cradle his face, noticing that his lovely purple hues have morphed into an even lovelier pink, only a second before you notice he hasn’t cum yet.

“That’s a good start,” Rafayel whispers, capturing your lower lip between his teeth and tugging.

It bounces back into place for him to kiss softly, before he continues, “Now, let’s try ‘most beautiful human in the world.’ If you get there, I might consider letting you have a break.”

[thevoidstaredback]

Okay, so, crisis averted. Both of them, really. Red Robin had not asked or attempted to get any more of Danny's drink and the World Ending Crisis was less World Ending and more World Threatening. Either way, no one is hyped up in lethal amounts of caffeine and the world is in no more pieces than it had been before.

That brings attention to a new problem, though. It's uniquely Danny's problem and Constantine and Zatanna and Deadman won't stop laughing at him. He's also pretty sure that Raven is laughing at him in the privacy of her mind, so that's making him feel worse.

The problem is that every single hero that had been at the meeting a week ago that was not a part of the JLD has been overly concerned about him.

So what if he half died when he was fourteen and therefore will never look over either fourteen or eighteen? So what if he consumes enough caffeine to kill an elephant within a few minutes? What is he gonna do, die? That's not a real threat as long as he only fights as Phantom.

Ignoring the fact that he can, in fact, get hurt to the point of near death as Phantom. It's not like anyone knows that, though! Besides, ghosts run on god rules. They can't die, only fade when forgotten. People aren't likely to forget about most ghosts, though, even if they can't remember their names.

He's not gonna share that, though. Let Batman keep his contingency that won't work because the only contingency that will work for Phantom is the one he made himself. Tried and tested! He's marked it off of his Bingo Card.

Anyway. Heros and their kids/proteges have been trying to track him down for the entire week. He can't risk even leaving the House of Mysteries because the Supers are all probably listening out for him and they can't hear him through magic. It sucks. He just wants to go get a cup of coffee as Danny. The second he leaves, though, the Supers will be on him like bloodhounds. He'd leave as Danny, but the rest of the JLD don't know what he looks like as Danny and he'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much. Being stuck as Phantom was going to start causing issues to his human half if he doesn't get to leave soon.

Should he risk it? Is coffee that won't kill him really worth risking the Supers finding out his civilian identity? Sure, they wouldn't tell anyone, but he didn't like the idea of someone being able to pick him out of a crowd when all he wanted to do was blend in. It's why he avoided Gotham and Bludhaven, actually, but that's both self explanatory and another story for another time.

"You're still here?" Zatanna sat on the couch beside him. "You're normally gone by now. You can't not be tired of us yet."

He sighed and sunk down into the couch slightly. "Believe me, I'm tired of being stuck here, but I can't leave. I can't leave as a human because you guys don't know what I look like and, no offense, but I'd like to keep it that way. I can't leave as I am now because Superman will be on my ass quicker than I can blink!" He whined this time, "I just want a cup of coffee."

"What about your special brew?" Raven asked, coming into the room.

"I want to drink coffee as a human. That stuff will kill me if I drink it as a human."

"At least you know your limits."

"That sounded like a dig at someone, Z."

"It was."

"Why don't you just go out under a protection spell?" Raven offered, "We could cast one over you and you could leave. Superman can't hear through magic, so he won't be able to tell. Neither will Superboy."

Danny thought for a second. "You're a genius, Raven! Has anyone ever told you that?"

"A few times," she blushed.

"Well, it needs to be said more!"

Zatanna laughed. "Alright, kid, let's get you outside before you drive yourself crazy."

Practically vibrating in place, Danny waited for the protection spell to settle over him. The second it did, he was out the door and wandering the streets of whatever city the House of Mysteries decided to drop him as Danny instead of Phantom.

"Who are you," was not the question or voice he wanted to hear the second he stepped into the open as himself.

"Danny," he squeaked out through his absolute panic. He didn't dare turn around.

The sound of fabric moving minutely clues him in to the second person behind him. What the hell were these two doing out? It's the middle of the day and there's no attacks going on anywhere in Gotham!

"Where did you come from?" Robin asked.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! This was really bad! Why did the House drop him *here* of all places? Does it *want* him to die again? It was very painful the first time, thank you very much! "Illinois?"

"Was that a question or an answer?" Why is Red Robin here now?!

"An-an answer?"

"Ah, you guys are scaring the little guy!" That was Nightwing. They're surrounding him! Why is Nightwing here? This is Gotham, not Bludhaven. "Give him some room to breathe."

They did not, in fact, give him room to breathe. Maybe coming outside was a bad idea. If he gets out of this no more dead than he already was, he was going to move to the middle of nowhere and become a hermit. Smallville is a town in the middle of nowhere, right? He'll retire as Phantom and move to Smallville until the people get suspicious and burn him as a witch-!

Maybe moving to a big city would be a better idea. Or locking himself in the basement of the House of Mysteries. Yeah, yeah that's a good idea.

"-even listening?"

Oh shit. They were still talking to him! Now is not the time to panic! "Gottagobye!" And then he was running.

Good job not panicking, Danny.

Part 1 Part 3

[sreidisms]

Early seasons Reid and with BAU!reader whom just has a HUGE crush on her and Gideon has to spell it out to Spencer? I just love season 1/2 Reid. Him in glasses just makes me swoon ❤️

THIS IS SO CUTE, like it's so probable too. I didn't understand if you meant that Gideon had to spell out that Spencer likes the reader or that the reader likes Spencer, so I went with the former. If you wanted the latter, tell me and I'll write it!

An Oblivious Genius

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer has feelings for you but is too oblivious to realise - Gideon helps him.

Genre: subtle fluff

Word Count: 862

Warnings: none

A/N: the way I ended this leaves it open to a part two, so please comment if you'd like one!

“I think you have feelings for her.”

“Huh?”

Gideon didn’t lift his gaze from the newspaper in his hands, the wrinkles on his forehead peeking from behind the inked folio. “I said, you may have feelings for her, Reid.”

Spencer never turned to anyone for help, because why would he? He knew more than anyone else when it came to most things - well, except socially. And emotionally. And anything having to do with you.

The only person that wouldn’t bruise his ego was Gideon - his mentor, his guidance. He held more of a God-like presence than a fatherly one for Reid; his advice and experience were almost holy, a dogma which Spencer believed and followed without questioning.

So when his number one source of truth told him he had a crush on you, it was a shock.

“I don’t think that’s the case-”

“Reid.”

Spencer stopped his attempted rambling as Gideon’s eyes made an appearance from behind the lowered paper.

“Just repeat what you were telling me at the start of the conversation,” the older man sighed.

Spencer shifted on his legs, picking at the rolled up sleeve that was settled by his elbow.

“I know she’s my closest friend, the person I feel most comfortable with, although she’s been working here for less time than everyone else. It’s probably because she doesn’t interrupt me and listens when I talk.” He paused for a second, the corner of his mouth lifting into a subtle smile. “I like that.”

“What else?” urged Gideon, setting his newspaper on the desk in front of him.

“I get really excited to see her. Well, I enjoy seeing Derek and Elle too, but I get this weird feeling at the pit of my stomach when I see her.” He pressed his palm to his sternum, showing the origin of the sensation.

“That’s because she means more to you.”

“Yes, but surely not in the way you’re implying. It could be heart burn; do you know that twenty percent of Americans suffer from a gastroesophageal reflux at least once a week-”

“You’re telling me you happen to experience heart burn each time she enters the room?”

Gideon raised an eyebrow, making the younger agent feel dumb for such an improbable conclusion.

“Okay … okay maybe not, the two variables cannot be fully independent of each other if they occur simultaneously every time.”

It was surprising to Gideon that such an intelligent and well-rounded person could be so oblivious to something as romantic feelings. He pressed his thumb and index finger into his eyes, rubbing them slowly and dragging his fingers down his cheeks, buying himself some time to think.

“I think an obvious question is, do you think she’s pretty?” he asked and waved his hand to the side.

Spencer bit his lower lip. He thought you were the most gorgeous person he had ever laid eyes on if he had to be entirely honest; but he couldn’t admit that, not out loud at least.

“I do.”

“That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say, Gideon? That I think that she’s breath-taking and there’s not a thing about her I don’t like?” He said it with a certain anger, one that was buried somewhere deep inside him, a result of the pent up emotions and anxieties in his chest.

“Is that the truth?” You’d think that with his profiling experience, he would have learnt to mask the way he was suppressing the fluttery feelings and adoration he had for you.

Gideon sighed before speaking again: “What are the signs that one is supressing emotions?”

“Struggling to identify and express feelings or appearing emotionally distant, unexpected mood swings, and avoidance of specific topics, people, or situations.”

“And doesn’t that seem to mirror what you’re going through?”

Spencer thought about it. He was definitely finding it challenging to pin point his emotions, he couldn’t really understand what he felt for you; he didn’t really have mood swings, but had just lashed out at his mentor over a comment; and he certainly avoided the topic of liking you or the teasing of such from his workmates.

“Shit, I like her.”

Gideon chuckled at his out-of-character swearing. “First off, watch your language. Secondly, I’m glad you’ve come round.” He laid back in his chair once more, lifting up the paper to continue his reading.

The young genius didn’t know what to do with this newfound information. He liked you. More than liked you, really. He was fascinated by your mere existence, your kindness, your humour, and most definitely your looks. How hadn’t he realised this sooner?

“What do I do now?” he mumbled, taking off his glasses to wipe them on his button-up shirt.

“You tell her you like her.”

Spencer near snapped his glasses in half with the way the pads of his fingers pressed firmly in shock.

“You want me to do what?”

“Reid, it’s not a secret that she has a soft spot for you.”

The boy sputtered, jaw opening and closing like a door on rusted hinges. “I- I can’t do that!”

The newspaper rustled as Gideon flipped the page. “One of you will eventually.”

God I need him, he's such a cutie

[spencereidluver]

B is for Boy Genius?

july 23, 2008

summary: You outsmart Spencer in one of his most talented subjects: Poker. Derek officially removes his "Boy Genius" title, effectively aggravating sans-poker-champ Spencer. And someone is a little hot when he's angry...

word count: 2k

warnings: none really, some friendly bullying of Spencer by Derek but nothing that isn't normal in the show.

“Straight flush.” Spencer says with a grin. He’s been in the BAU going on 5 years, and has yet to be beaten at poker by anyone.

“Oh, Spencer,” you lean in toward him and flatten your cards on the table. “Royal. Flush.”

“What? No way.” He speaks before he can even look at your cards. “Oh my god.”

“How’s it feel to be beaten at your own game?”

“I want a rematch. Outside dealer.” He passes the deck to Derek, who is sitting at his desk across the aisle. 

“Pretty boy got beat, huh?” Derek says, beginning to shuffle the cards. He deals them out, planting a little kiss on the last card he hands you. “Good luck, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart is what Derek has called you since you joined the team. At first you thought it was a little weird, but by now you’re used to it. And to be honest, it’s one of the more normal names he calls his coworkers. So you lucked out there. 

You see Spencer smirk, he probably has a good hand. Well, maybe not. He’s always had a pretty good poker face, no pun intended. 

“What’s going on?” Rossi says as he makes his way out of his office to see Derek, JJ, and Emily all surrounding you and Spencer. 

“Oh, pretty boy and girl genius here are having a poker-off.” Derek says. That’s the first time you’ve ever been called girl genius, it makes you feel a small tingle in your stomach. You look up at the former boy genius in front of you, he’s got a rosy blush on his cheeks and spreading across his nose and down his neck. His pupils have dilated. Oh... Maybe he’s just nervous. . .

“Spencer here just lost his first poker game.” Emily says, giving him a pat on the shoulder. It makes him jump. 

“First and only.” Spencer testified. He clenches his jaw, making a small dimple appear. “Full house.” He slams his cards down and looks toward you with a smile. 

You click your tongue. Rossi has now appeared and is watching from behind Spencer’s shoulder. Locking eyes with him, you slide his cards to the side. “Four of a kind.” you say as you sit each card down one by one. 

Spencer’s eyes all but come out of his skull. Derek erupts in laughter, “Dethroned,” he manages to say. He ruffles Spencer’s hair. “How’s it feel having a new genius around?”

“I’m impressed.” Spencer tells you, ignoring Derek’s provoking remarks. “Where’d you learn that?”

“Oh you know, picked it up during my college years.” You say, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a half-mouthed smirk. 

The crowd of your coworkers fades out, and everyone gets back to work. Your desk being directly across from Spencer’s, you see him studying the cards through the pile of binders and Manilla folders between the two of you.

“I still can’t believe you won. Twice,” he looks up from his desk to say. 

“You just can’t give up the crown, can you, Spence?” You respond. 

_____

You get up from your desk to go get your lunch from the breakroom. With a morning filled with poker and getting a solid new nickname, you’ve worked up quite an appetite. Upon opening the door, you bump shoulders with JJ, who is making her way out. 

“Woah there, girl genius,” she says. “Watch where you’re going there.”

“Sorry JJ, the genius doesn’t come equipped with self-steering.” You joked. 

Spencer is standing at the counter stirring a coffee. His head turned toward you as you walked in the room, causing him to lose control of his hands and the coffee-coated spoon went flying. 

“Nor hand eye coordination.” Emily laughs from the table in the corner. 

“Shut up.” Spencer mumbles, wiping the small mess he made up with a paper towel. “You know, the average win rate for professional poker players is only 47%.” 

“Well, as of right now, y/n’s is 100.” Emily pats his shoulder once again as she walks past him and out the door, leaving you and Spencer alone. 

“I don’t understand why everyone is making such a big deal of this little poker thing.” He says, a little annoyed.  

You walk behind him and open the fridge. “It’s all in good fun, Spence. We all know you’re still the smartest by a long shot.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. Like, why has everyone been bringing it back up. I lost a game, big deal.”

“I think everyone is just surprised is all. I mean, you haven’t lost a game in five years, Spence. That's a long time.”

“Not really. Considering most of the people here are in their thirties, that’s only 1.5% of their life-“

You interrupt him. “But, they’ve only worked here since they were about 25, making that their entire time here.”

Spencer’s mouth drops wide open. He cannot believe you caught that. Especially before him. “I- Wow. I guess you’re right." He looks defeated, tensing his shoulders and taking a heavy breath.

"You're still the smartest person I know, Spence." You try to make him feel better. The corners of his mouth turn up in what would not quite be classified as a smile. "And the whole team agrees with me, they're just trying to get under your skin."

He giggles and makes a disgusted face. "Ew. You didn't have to word it like that, y/n. I've lost my appetite." He pushes his coffee away and grins.

You quickly grab a straw from the small four compartment organizer to your right, sticking it in the cup and taking a sip out of it. You swallow, blinking aggressively. "Spencer, how many sugars did you put in here?" He'd been autonomously opening and pouring in sugar packets since the conversation began.

He glances in the small garbage bin beneath his feet. "Um, thirteen." He says, pressing his lips together forming the "white people" smile.

_____

You walk in the office slightly later than your normal time. You took a detour to the local supermarket in order to pick up some yogurt for lunch, getting sidetracked by a t-shirt you found on the end-cap of an isle.

You grabbed the t-shirt and two bottles of coffee and hurried to the register, completely forgetting the yogurt you made the trip for in the first place.

As you reach your car, you toss your knitted bag, now filled with coffee and a t-shirt, into your passenger seat and quickly climb inside.

The office is about 2 minutes from the supermarket. As you drive, you play with the fabric of the black shirt peeking out of the bag. You wonder when you're going to have a chance to put it on.

As you pull into the parking lot of the BAU, you see Spencer hustling in. He must be running late. Odd. He was never late. Never. You saw Spencer’s rare fault as the perfect moment, and slipped your sweater off in the driver’s seat of your car. You slid the black tshirt over your bra, pulling the button up sweater over your shoulders and fastening all but the top button. You grabbed your bag, sliding it over your left shoulder and exited your car, shuffling in. 

You met Spencer at the elevator, unsure how you both got there at the same time as he’d entered the building a good two minutes before you. 

“Good morning, Spence,” you said and smiled at him.

“Mornin’, y/n. How are you?” He responded.

“I’m good, how about you?”

“I’m okay, I was running late this morning and didn’t have time to get my coffee, but other than that I’m doing well.”

You thought about the glass bottle in your bag. You knew grabbing two would be a good idea. You looked up at the tall man, feeling small as he glanced down toward you. “I stopped by the market this morning, I picked up an extra coffee. I was going to just save it for tomorrow, but you’re welcome to have it.” 

“Oh, are you sure, y/n? Don’t feel like you have to give up your coffee because I was up all night.”

You wondered why he was up all night. What could’ve been on his mind that kept him up so late? You gestured the bottle over to him, smiling as he took it from your grasp.

“Thank you, y/n. I owe you for this one.”

The elevator door opened and the two of you began walking down the hall to the BAU room. Spencer opens his coffee, a satisfying “pop” sound as the seal of the lid breaks. You pull the glass door open and hold it for him as he takes his first sip. He scurries through and you follow, pulling your own coffee from your bag. 

“Well, well, well,” Derek announced loud enough the whole building could hear. “Look who finally decided to show up to work.”

“Shut up,” Spencer retaliated.

“I didn’t know coffee was on the new genius this morning. Where’s mine, y/n?” Derek joked, smirking at Spencer.

You could tell this one stung a little bit. Spencer knew it was all fun and games, but having his one strong suit, in his mind anyways, be taken away from him hurt. You rolled your eyes and hurried over to your desk, sitting your bag down on the files you’d yet to fill out. You looked up, expecting Spencer to be at the table across from you, but he wasn’t. He’d walked away. You sighed and got to work.

Spencer returned about half an hour later, sitting down at his desk without even acknowledging you. He began aggressively writing on his paperwork, so aggressively that his hand veins protruded and knuckles turned white. By the clench of his jaw, you knew he was probably a little upset by the interaction with Derek earlier, so you decided now would be the perfect time to unveil your purchase from this morning. 

You stood up, unbuttoning your sweater and slowly worked your way toward Spencer. You grabbed the deck of playing cards from his desk, drawing the man’s attention. He glanced up at you with a slightly raised eyebrow. Leaning down close to his ear, you whispered, “follow me.” 

He shivered as the heat of your voice hit the back of his neck, but obliged. You took him up the stairs to the half floor located in front of Hotch’s office. “Just go with it, okay?” You said to him. He looked confused, but nodded in agreement despite.

You loudly cleared your throat, attention from the floor below turned toward you. You held up the deck of cards. You made sure your shirt was visible and gently brushed your side against the man who stood next to you.

“I would like to re-declare Dr. Spencer Reid as certified office genius. After further research, he has proven himself worthy of the title.” You announced to the rest of the team who had their full attention on you. Spencer smiled.

“You’re too kind,” Spencer said, leaning down to take a peek at your shirt that he’d noticed you’d paid extra attention to. He couldn’t quite see it as half of it was wrinkled from the curves of your body and the guard rail was disturbing his view as he leaned forward. He grabbed your shoulders and gently twisted them to face him. His eyes met your breasts, despite knowing he was just reading the vinyl words, you couldn’t help but feel your face heat up a little bit. You knew everyone in the office was watching you guys as well, making you even warmer. Spencer’s cheeks had a small hint of rose to them as well as he mouthed the words on your shirt.

“I’m with genius,” he whispered under his breath. A smile took over his face, but it slowly faded as he realized he was still holding on to your shoulders. He felt his cheeks grow red and he quickly pulled his arms back down to his side. 

You opened your mouth to begin speaking, but right when the words were about to come out, the door to Hotch’s office swung open and he came barreling through, files in hand.

“Sorry to ruin the fun guys, but we have a case.”

_____

next chapter: C is for Case by Case

other parts: Spencer Reid A-Z Masterlist

view the masterlist in a calendar version! 

_____

a/n: okay i guess that one was kind of boring too.. but i kinda wanna set some tension and some story lines before we just jump in you know... since this chapter was pretty long, the next chapter is going to be a short little filler chapter of a conversation with you, spencer, and hotch. I hope you guys are enjoying so far :)

_____

Have Recommendations? visit my recommendations page to submit your suggestion, no matter how big or small!

_____

[andypantsx3]

Andy I just had a thought.. Shouto kabedon.. i’m very sane about this

Omg I loooveeeeeeeee this omg!!!!!!! You are a genius!!!!!!! This ask unlocked something inside of my brain; this is barely coherent and unedited but I offer you this heartfelt nonsense in return.

contents: shouto x reader, sfw, implied fem reader, aged-up characters, 1.7k

You tried to ignore it when you first heard Mineta say it.

"Trust me, the babes love it," he'd lisped to his doubtful audience—Kaminari, a befuddled-looking Kirishima, and Shouto, whose face was so impassive you'd actually been under the impression he wasn't listening.

The former members of UA's graduating class of 2X74 were stuffed into Kaminari's new apartment for a party. It was mostly the heroics department, but you'd spotted a few of your fellow general course graduates as you'd passed through the kitchen to grab a drink. You'd come out into the living room to see Mina and Jirou—as well as pretend like you weren't ogling your long-time crush Shouto—but you found you were immediately regretting leaving the safety of that kitchen.

"And you've... done it?" Kirishima asked, eyebrows scrunched.

Mineta made a show of inspecting his fingernails like it was nothing to him—which you seriously doubted. "Trust me, women like assertiveness. This move is plastered all over their romance manga."

You took another sip from your drink. You wanted to pretend like you weren't hearing this, but Mina and Jirou were making it hard, Jirou stone-faced next to you and Mina unsuccessfully trying to filter her gleeful laughter into her own drink.

"Do you think women even know it's a kabedon, if he does it?" she asked, leaning in to whisper.

Jirou looked doubtful.

"He's like, waist height," you whispered back, sighing. "I don't even know if his arm would reach the wall either...?"

"I think it probably looks like he's just trying to hold himself up," Mina said, her grin unholy.

"I pity the woman he's attempted it on," Jirou said drily.

"—you're sure?" Kaminari was saying when you turned back to the boys' conversation, also looking doubtful.

"One hundred percent success rate," Mineta insisted, eyebrows wiggling.

Despite yourself, your eyes slid over to Shouto, like they almost always did, wandering over that handsomely thoughtful expression. It was the thing you liked the most about him—how his angelically beautiful visage was at stark odds with how awkward and kind of strange he was; how he looked like an ice prince but was one of the warmest, kindest people you'd ever spoken to.

You'd been paired for a couple assignments back in school, hung out on the periphery of his Class A friend groups, and had ended up teaching him a fair few things about how to cook and do laundry when he'd asked. He'd even rescued you during one of the many attacks that made up your time at UA together—which was really when your crush hit you full-force.

He'd been so gentle with you, carrying you out of harm's way when your injured leg had crumpled beneath you, and the careful way he'd handled you had been so at variance with the raw, roiling power he'd wielded on the battlefield—the tidal waves of ice that swept up the villains, the towering wall of fire that mercilessly choked off any of their escape points.

You thought Shouto was one of the most gentle, well-mannered men on earth.

He would probably never kabedon someone. He would never need to—people fell all over themselves for him.

"The babes fall right into your arms," Mineta said, raising his voice to encompass the knot of girls stuffed together on the loveseat. "Isn't that right, ladies?"

"I'm going to get another drink, the image of Mineta trying to kabedon me needs to be wiped from my brain," you told the girls, flinging yourself over Mina's legs in your haste to escape.

The kitchen was a welcome reprieve, and you dug around in Kaminari's fridge for another can, letting the cool air wash over you. You studiously ignored that all Kaminari seemed to have in his fridge was a pile of moldering grapes and some mayo.

Can acquired, you briefly considered not going back out into the living room and abandoning Mina and Jirou to their fate. But the pull of Shouto was too strong, and with a sigh you resigned yourself to more of Mineta's lechery.

In the hallway, however, you stumbled into the man himself, coming towards you from the opposite direction. You were struck momentarily dumb by the way the breadth of his shoulders seemed to take up almost the entire span of the hall, the way his fading summer tan looked against the light-blue of his button up. He was so handsome even when he was just walking, it was so deeply unfair.

"Hi Shouto," you said, raising your can in a salute, hoping your voice sounded normal. "Careful in Kaminari's fridge, he's culturing something on his grapes."

Shouto blinked down at you, those beautiful mismatched eyes growing a little wider. "Y/N," he greeted you, though there was a note of something strange in his voice, like there was something weird about you that he hadn't expected.

You wondered if you'd spilled something on yourself like a child, and decided to detour to the bathroom on your way back. How embarrassing.

You gave him a rueful grin, stuffing yourself against the wall so you wouldn't accidentally bump a strong shoulder as you passed, swearing vengeance on your drink if it had betrayed you in this moment—

Except, suddenly there was a hand against the wall in front of you, blocking your passage down the hall. You startled, whipping back around to stare at Shouto, only to find him looming way closer than you had anticipated.

Your back bumped the wall as he crowded you in, his other arm coming up to press against the wall on your other side, caging you inside his reach.

Your mind was so overwhelmed with the sight of him this close—that straight, blade-thin nose, that full, pouty mouth—the light touch of some expensive cologne at his collarpoints—that it took you a second to catch up with what was going on.

Your mouth dropped open when you registered that Todoroki Shouto had just—kabedoned you?—was actively kabedonning you? what the literal fuck—in the middle of Kaminari's hallway.

"Shouto? What—?" you managed, your voice strangled. The air felt like it was resisting you, refusing to be drawn into your lungs.

Shouto's voice was low and intimate as he answered, sending a mortifyingly visible shiver right down your spine. "Is it working?"

You gaped at him, eyes flickering over his serious expression. "Is—what—?"

Shouto shifted even closer, so that his face was a scant two inches from yours. You were suddenly, horrifyingly aware of how close his mouth was, how tall and strong and warm he was over you.

"Do you plan to fall into my arms?" Shouto asked. "Mineta said women liked it."

It was a fight for your life to make the connection over the static in your brain, the lack of oxygen in the air. Mineta had said women would fall for you if you kabedonned them... Shouto was.... kabedonning you.... computation pending...

"You... want it to work?" you asked, words clipped. You felt like any stray movement and your mouth would brush his, and you didn't know if he wanted—it was too strange to think that he might—

"Yes," Shouto replied, his handsome face serious. Those heterochromatic eyes searched over you, trailing over your features like a warm touch. "I want it to. Am I... not doing it correctly?"

Your face heated, and an entire conservatory of butterflies took flight in your stomach. You could not believe what was going on right now.

"No you're—you're doing it right."

Shouto's face was even closer, then, his mouth a whisper away from yours. "Then you have fallen for me," he said, sounding like both a question and a conclusion. He looked like he didn't know what to do next.

You had to suppress a laugh, charmed and mystified and nervous all at once. He was so reliably strange—of course he had taken Mineta's assertions at face value. And he was so straightforward, of course he had implemented the advice straight away. He was so silly, you liked him so, so much.

"I... have," you said, a helpless smile creeping over your lips. "Although it was a while before the kabedon, to be honest."

Shouto blinked, and you could just barely see his mouth grow a little slack in surprise. "Oh," he said, a hint of a shy smile touching his mouth. "Good."

"Yeah. Good," you said, your own grin going wider.

Shouto's eyes dipped down to your mouth, and his eyelashes fluttered. A thrill of anticipation went down your spine, your knees suddenly liquefying, as Shouto leaned back in, and your own eyes fluttered closed.

The press of his mouth was hot and soft—perfect, like you'd always fantasized it would be. He shifted closer, so that he pressed against you, and you had to tilt your head back to accommodate how tall he was, reveling in the strength and the heat of him over you. One of his hands left the wall to thread into your hair as he kissed you, cradling the back of your head like you were something precious, and your stomach swooped in response.

He kissed you boneless, absolutely stupid against the wall of Kaminari's hallway, and it was all your could do to wrap your arms around him and kiss him back. You didn't know how long it was that the two of you stood there, wrapped up in one other. All you knew was you never wanted Shouto's mouth to leave yours again, never wanted to leave the circle of his embrace.

So of course an appreciative whistle broke the two of you apart. You tore your mouth away from Shouto's only to find Mineta standing at the end of the hall, grinning like a wolf. A tiny, lecherous little wolf.

"Nice one, Tododoki," he said, like you weren't even there.

You bristled, stiffening in Shouto's arms as you glanced back at him quickly to measure his response. But the dazed look on Shouto's face pulled you up short, and he looked at Mineta like he wasn't really seeing him.

"You were right," was what he eventually managed. "The kabedon is very effective. Now if you will excuse us, I need to do it again."

A shocked laugh escaped you as Shouto's hand seized yours, and then you were being pulled around the corner into Kaminari's bathroom. Shouto walked you back against the door, an arm coming up just like before, pinning you against the door.

Another pleased laugh was muffled in Shouto's mouth as he took yours again, cupping your face to his. The lock clicked shut behind you.

[iwassupremacy]

Good Girl

Sawamura Daichi x f reader

Part two

Summary: your whole life all you ever wanted to be was faithful and pure. Saving yourself for marriage to honor God and your Family. You would never give in to any kind of sin. At least that’s what you thought. Until one day you met him. He was so gentle and so loving and so so… dirty. How did you get into this mess?!

Warnings: smut, safe sex, aged up characters, softdom!Daichi, sub!reader, inexperienced!reader, virgin!reader, first time, crisis of faith, blasphemy (kinda), reader has mommy issues, lots of praise, also lots of begging, petnames, nipple play, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, big dick Daichi, penetration, mentions of multiple orgasms, Daichi’s a consensual king!!

Let me know if I missed anything.

“Amen”

You left church in your floaty white dress. It was a little too short for your liking, so you felt a little bad all through the service but it was such a hot summer day that you just had to make a little exception.

You thought to yourself that it for sure won’t be a problem since you’ve been so good all your life. As long as your mother didn’t see it would be fine. For her you just never tried hard enough. Never were good enough. But you had God. So who else would you even need to be truly happy, right?

-

“C’mon babyyy, you’re gonna love it! I just know it. The music will be soo good. And if it makes you feel any better I will be driving, so we both won’t be drinking. Even though, I have to say, I think it won’t kill you to have a shot or something and a little fun here and there. I’m sure Jesus will forgive you.” your best friend tried to convince you, once again.

She does this every second Friday of every month since every second Saturday they would play your favorite music at her favorite club.

You never understood why it was so important to her for you to get so close to potentially dinning. She called it fun.

You called it temptation. Alcohol wasn’t really a sin in itself. It was rather what could come from drinking it.

“I’m not seeking anyone’s forgiveness. I don’t want to give God a reason to have to forgive me.” You never once in your life even had to confess.

“Whatever. Please come? I am begging you!”

Most of the time you said no, so it really surprised you that she never gave up.

She was just so persistent.

“Okay I’ll go. Under one condition. You don’t ask me for at least three months.”

Most of the time you said no. Not every time. Maybe one of the reasons why she never stopped asking.

“Deal!”

-

“I am so not wearing this. Not a chance.” You looked at the tiny blue dress your best friend held in her hands. Not only was it way to short but it was also very tight. You had seen it on her before and it was beautiful but just too revealing for the way you were raised.

“C’mon don’t be such a prude! You’d look so hot and… if I can say. Fuckable. Not that you have to fuck but you’d certainly not pay ANYTHING tonight.”

“Stop it. I’m not being a prude, I just have my beliefs and values. So I would like to wear this please. What’s wrong with this?”

She looked down on you raising her eyebrows and sighing. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s cute I guess. Just not for a club. You look like you’re gonna sell me a house or something.”

She probably had a point. You were wearing a pencil skirt and a blouse after all.

“Okay so I have a few tricks up my sleeve that would make you look like you just got of off work and went to the club right after. Sexy but still formal. What do you say?”

You gave in. She had to have her fun every once in a while. You too were so different that most of the time it surprised you she was even friends with you. “Okay let’s do it.”

-

“And??”

“It looks… good. I’m actually surprised. Thank you.”

“I knew you would like it! Ah I am a genius.” she said in a sing sang voice.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. The first three buttons of your blouse were opened which was just enough to expose your collarbones but not your cleavage. Your hair was pinned up messily. Just as if it once was sleek and fell apart because you were at work or generally doing something.

You looked down. Your skirt was at knee length and even though you purposefully picked it it just didn’t fit the vibe.

You sighed. She’s gonna love this you thought.

“Do you have a mini skirt? Or, i don‘t know, a pencil skirt that’s a little shorter than mine? I don’t like the way this looks.“

She let out a little squeak of excitement. „Yes! I have the perfect skirt for you.“

-

Pulling on the black denim skirt the third time in 10 minutes you wondered what you were thinking agreeing to this. Sure you went to the club before but never in anything this revealing. Your thighs were out!

At least it covers my ass for all I know…

“10$ and ID please.” you did as you were told by the security and after getting through you were immediately introduced by the smell of sweat and alcohol, naked bodies and loud music.

“I’m gonna get myself a drink and a hot man to pay. You should do the same! Or should I bring you a coke later on?” She screamed over the sound of hips don’t lie.

“I’ll be fine go and have fun!”

It was kinda always like this which was one of the many reasons why you didn’t understand why she needed you to come with her in the first place.

Of course you danced together and she would never leave without you but the first two hours you were without an exception always alone.

That was the time where she found herself any good looking young man to flirt with and get drunk without paying.

Sometimes she even made out with these men but it rarely happened.

Later she always came back to you very tipsy and you guys danced the night away until your feed hurt.

Of course her understanding of dancing the night away was very different from yours but so far that was never a problem.

You had different lifestyles but deep down the same morals and values which is what was most important.

“Can I?”

Your had quickly turned around and collapsed with the hard chest of a tall man.

Out of reflex he put his hand on your waist which caused you to jump and immediately take two steps back.

„Sorry?“

You stared at him a little too long for your liking. But he was just so gorgeous. Sharp jaw line, short black hair with an undercut, subtle hint of a beard and oh so many muscles.

„I asked you if I you could let me pass. I kinda need to get to the bar my friend is hitting on a random woman. Again.“

You blinked just now finding a way back to reality.

„Yes! Sorry!“

Quickly you took a step aside.

The stranger chuckled. „Don’t worry. It’s not that important. He just can be very- persistent.“

You couldn’t help but take a look at the bar. Only spotting your best friend who already held her first drink of the night in her hand and was sitting dangerously close to a young man with greyish hair.

Tonight there would be a little make out session. You could already tell.

„Who‘s your friend?“ you asked still not looking back at him.

Suddenly he was really close. His hand on your back, right between your shoulders, his head next to yours. You could literally feel this strange man everywhere.

For some reason it didn’t bother you. In your eyes he was still very polite about it.

„See him over there? Right next to the girl in pink.“

Now you looked at him. More shocked than anything else though.

„Gray hair?“

„Yes gray hair. Why‘re you so surprised? He‘s not that old.“ the man laughed

„Ohh yeah I‘m sure of that.“ you let out a child like giggle. „The girl in pink is my best friend. So no need to worry. I bet she hit on him first.“

He let out a loud laugh and looked at you. “Then these two belong together I suppose, hm.” His expression suddenly changed to something way more serious and he said:

“Maybe you and I belong together as well. I believe in fate, do you, sweetheart?” His voice was so deep and his aura so masculine that it made you feel all shy.

-

“And then he said don’t take it the wrong way as if he didn’t just say the most vile thing to my face!” Daichi, you found out that was his name right after the two of you decided to spend the rest of the night together, chuckled. “It’s interesting what you call vile. At least to me it’s rather a statement than an insult.”

You gulped looking at your empty glass. “He called me fuckable. In the presence of my mother and father. It’s disrespectful.”

“It’s true.” You chocked looking at him in disbelief. Did he just call you fuckable?! “Wouldn’t’ve said it in front of your family, of course. But it’s true nonetheless.”

You felt his eyes peering into your soul. Staring you down as if he waited for you to say something. Do something. Instead you stood up. “I need- I’m going to get a new soda. See ya.” And then you left him behind. Feeling his eyes following your every move.

When you came back Daichi was on his phone, seemingly not paying any more thought to what had just happened. Being a gentleman man once again, he put his phone down, the moment he noticed you. Smiling at you in a calming manner. As if he senses your unsure demeanour.

“What is it with you?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” You frowned.

“There’s something about you. Something I can’t explain. You seem so- pure? But not childlike. Mature and confident. But still shy and bashful when talking about sex or alcohol. You’ve surely done those things, right? I mean you must be my age. Everyone has done those things by now.”

You blushed. You fricking blushed. Not once in your life were you ever embarrassed of your inexperience and most definitely not about the reason why. But now. Now you were. Not embarrassed by your religion or its beliefs of course, but by your lack of a response. Instea you started to stutter like a child. He interrupted your little stammer of words.

“You’re a virgin. Aren’t you?” You chocked on your spit. Quickly trying to gain back some semblance of confidence. “I am, yes. I don’t see any shame in that.”

“No, no, you’re right. There isn’t. It just surprises me. What are you waiting for? The one?” He let out a unbelievable loud laugh. As if that was the most ridiculous thought he’d ever thought about.

“Marriage, actually. I am very religious, you know. That’s also why I haven’t been drinking tonight.” He looked at you, eyes wide open. Mouth lightly agape. Now it was you who laughed, even if only quietly.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to- I didn’t want to disrespect you or your beliefs. I- god this is embarrassing. I’m sorry. Really.”

“It’s okay. You couldn’t have known. I know there aren’t many religious people who actually live it all out. Doesn’t bother me of course, everyone should have the right to do as they want. I just chose this way.”

“Did you, though? Or did your family tell you it was the only right way?” He asked suddenly being very close. His hot breath fanning over the side of your face. You gulped.

“They did teach me many things of course. Especially my mother. Like that alcohol is only for special occasions, we only ever drink wine when I’m at church for example. Or that I am to cover myself to a certain level. My body shall only be seen by my future husband. She also taught me sex isn’t for pleasure. It’s an act of love-“ he turned your face towards him with two fingers. Staring at you. “and- and-”

“And?” He raised his eyebrows, smirking.

“And it should be intimately, with my future husband only. To make- a family. A woman shouldn’t-“ his finger carefully touched your lower lip, pulling it down a little. You took a deep breath. Taking his wrist and removing his hand from your face.

“A woman shouldn’t give herself away to just anybody.”

He nodded slowly. Still looking at you intensely. “And I get that. One question though. Did they tell this to the men too? You have a brother, right? You told me so. Does he have to safe himself for marriage? Is he allowed to give himself away whenever he likes or does he have to cover his body and wait for his wife to come along and make love to him intimately to make a family? Answer me and if the answer pleases me I’ll leave you be.”

You sighed. Truthfully you’ve thought about this before. Especially when you were younger and had a little crisis of faith. You’d pushed it down though. This is how it was to be. Him out there and you in church.

“No. He doesn’t. But that doesn’t matter he’s a-“ Daichi interrupted you. “Of course he doesn’t. He’s a man. He gets to fuck whom ever he likes, whenever he likes. No, sweetheart, this doesn’t satisfy me.”

Was he angry? For you? Or for himself?

“You only say this because you want to fuck me. You said it yourself. I’m fuckable.”

“Maybe. But maybe it’s bold of you to assume that and I actually only feel empathy towards you.”

He again placed two fingers on your chin, making you look at him. He leaned in, until his mouth was right next to your ear. He whispered now. “But you’re right. I wanna fuck you. Wanna fuck you real good. Make you feel things you could only dream of feeling. Make you cum as many times as your body can handle. And then tomorrow I wanna take you on a real date. Spoil you rotten and treat you like you deserve. Wanna make you feel like a real woman. Not a little girl in a golden cage. Though I would like to cage you like this.”

He pressed against your body with his until you whimpered and had nowhere to hide. “Would you like that, sweetheart? Hm? You can tell me, no one can hear us. Your mother can’t hear you when you’re with me.”

Your breath sped up, your hands subconsciously grabbing Daichis shoulders, squeezing them. It was all too much. You felt so overwhelmed. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. That never mattered. I never mattered.”

Slowly he moved back, synchronously moving his hand from your chin to your cheek, wiping your tears away. You didn’t even realise that you were crying.

“‘M sorry. It’s just not that easy for me. I know you’re technically right. I just- I’ve been raised this way. I’ve learned I’ll go to hell any other way.”

You started crying even more and he wiped away every single tear, letting you cry in silence until there were no more tears and he kissed your forehead.

“I know, baby. I know.” The petnames made your heart flutter. You’ve never had someone call you anything other than your name. Except for your best friend, but that was different from this.

Speaking of. Daichis head turned from you to your friends, still sitting at the bar, flirting and occasionally making out.

“Tell me, do you think, she’ll go to hell?” His head turned back to you, frowning.

You frowned along with him. “What? No! Of course not. She’s such a kind hearted person with a warm soul who loves and cares for everyone around her. She’s just got different morals than I do. She’d never go to hell. She’s too good for that.”

Daichi smiled. Cute he thought. The way you were talking about her.

“But she’s done all those things. She’s had sex. She drinks. She’s drunk right now! She dresses revealing. Hm? She does all those things. Why don’t you?”

You sighed again, staring to become a headache. Shaking your head you leaned into him, putting your forehead on his chest. You’ve never been so close to a stranger, especially not a man. But there was something about him that made you feel safe. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

Daichi put his hand on the back of your head, slowly unpinning your hair and running his fingers through it. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll stop talking about it now. I promise.”

-

For the rest of the night Daichi and you got back to talking about more meaningless stuff, laughed and got to know each other better.

You learned that he used to play volleyball in Highschool and that some of his former teammates are on the national team now and that he knows and meets most of the regularly, but he just continued it as a hobby and is now a policeman.

After the exhausting talk earlier, you decided, one drink would be fine. You needed it.

At first you wanted to go get a glass of wine at which Daichi just laughed. “You won’t get any wine in a place like this, sweetheart. But don’t worry, I know what to get you.”

He came back five minutes later with another beer for himself and a cocktail for you. Sex on the beach. The irony. You shook your head, laughing, but drinking it anyway.

One cocktail quickly turned into two and now you were feeling much better. A little lightheaded, but better.

After a few more hours your best friend and her company, Sugawara, finally decided to grace you with their presence. They were very drunk, but also very happy. Holding hands and giggling at each other. You smiled. It’a been a while since you’ve seen her like this.

“We’ve just realised- you’re our best friends! This guy is Sugawaras best friend and Y/N, you’re my besssst- friend! And you’ve met- and we have too!” Your best friend slurred, hiccuping several times.

Daichi laughed, patting Sugawara on the back. “Nice that you’ve come to realise that as well. Come on.” He took your hand. Your best friend gasped, but you glared at her, so she didn’t say anything. “Let’s get a cap, hm?”

The taxi driver drove to Sugawaras place first, your best friend leaving the car with him without ang explanation. As if they agreed on this long before they came back to you.

Daichi and you looked at each other, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Until the taxi driver looked back at you. “Where to, next?”

The car suddenly got really quiet. “Come with me to my place. We won’t have to do anything except watch a movie and go to sleep. I was serious before. I wanna take you out tomorrow. And I wanna spend the night with you.” Daichi said.

You blushed. “Okay. I’ll come.”

-

Daichi opened the door to his apartment, carefully placing his hand on your back and leading you inside. You felt wobbly. The alcohol had just hit even more. So he made sure to steady you. “You okay?”

“Yea. I’m sorry. Just not used to more than a glass of wine.”

“That’s okay. I feel light headed too. Once we’re sleeping it’ll wear off. I’ll bring you water.”

While he was away, you got rid of your uncomfortable shoes. Staring at him moving in the kitchen. He was so tall and muscular. Fuck. You wanted him so bad.

So when he came back, you didn’t drink his water. Instead you set it aside and stepped closer to him. Until you were so close, you had to look up at him. As if out of instinct his hands landed on your waist.

“Daichi.” You whispered. Putting your hands on his shoulders. He didn’t say anything, instead he pulled you in even closer so that your chest touched his. “Daichi, please.”

“What is it, sweetheart? Tell me.” He squeezed your waist and you bit your lips.

“Please take me. I- I want you. Please.” You didn’t know where this sudden urge came from, just a few hours ago, you didn’t even so much as touch yourself and now you were begging a stranger to fuck you. but he stirred something inside you and it made you feel so good. So special.

“That’s the alcohol talking, Y/N. You will regret this in the morning.” Still he didn’t step back as if he wait for you to convince him. So you did.

“I might. But Daichi, you’ve been so understanding and kind. I- I don’t think I want to do this with anyone but you. You can lead me through this and if I regret it in the morning, I feel you’re the only man who wouldn’t take it personal and calm me down. Please. I want this. I want you. I- I want you to do all the stuff you said earlier. Make me feel like a real woman. Please.”

He grunted. He fucking grunted. “Shit okay, baby. I’ll do it. I’ll make you feel so desirable and so so good.”

And just like that he slammed his lips against yours. Quickly moving them. His tongue brushed against your lower lip, urging you to open your mouth. But you backed away. Never having kissed anyone like this, it was hard for you to keep up. “I don’t-“

“It’s okay, let me take the lead. Do what I do. I am not judging you. You’re doing so good. Were so brave begging me to fuck you, hm? Let me do it then, I’ll be careful. You’re okay?” You nodded. “No, talk to me, baby. I wanna hear you.”

“I- Yes. Yes, I’m okay. Please kiss me again.”

Daichi chuckled. “Such a good girl, fuck.”

And then he kissed you again. And again. And again. Until all you could think about was him and his hands that lifted you up and put you on the table right next to your glass of water.

His tongue forced its way in your mouth and circled yours. Your breath hitched when his hands opened all the buttons of your blouse and squeezed your breast. From there they wandered to the back and opened your bra as well.

“This okay?” He whispered, his breath fanning over your lips. You whimpered again. “Yes, please.” He moved back. First removing your blouse and then, very sensually, your bra. “You keep begging me, but you’re not telling me what you want me to do.”

He talked to you but he didn’t look you in the eyes. Instead he shamelessly stared at your breasts. It made you feel tingly and your thighs subconsciously pressed together. Resisting the urge to cover yourself and look away you said. “I want you to touch me. Please.”

One of his hands cupped your cheek, his thumb caressing your lips. The other one traced your body occasionally pinching one of your nipples while now staring you in the eyes. You tried to bite your lip to not make a sound, but you couldn’t because of his thumb so instead you whined.

“I am touching you, aren’t I? You need to be more specific, sweetheart. Where do you want me to touch you?”

“Everywhere.”

“Everywhere? Like- here?” His hand moved up to your collarbone. “Or here?” He brushed over your shoulder, over your arm, past your elbow and took your hand. “Or maybe” he removed his second hand from your mouth and took your free hand with it, harshly pressing both your hands on the surface of the table with his. “you want me to touch you with my mouth?”

He lowered himself a little bit, never breaking eye contact and then kissed right between your breasts. “You want that, sweetheart?”

You squirmed under his gaze. You would really like to grab his hair and just yank him where you needed him most. “Yes! Yes please, Daichi, you’re being mean!”

“You have no idea how mean I can actually be, princess.” And then he finally took one of your buds in his mouth. Sucking and biting at it ever so gently.

“Ohh God” you let your head fall back and closed your eyes, biting your lip and pushing your chest up in his face. “please, please, please. More. I need more.”

“God’s not here, baby. Just me. I am the one making you feel like this. You feel good?” He licked over your bud one last time and then switches sides. Doing what he did before.

You shuddered. “Yes. Yes I- I feel good. You’re making me feel so- good, Daichi. Please. I need more of y- you.” Your breath quickened, your thighs presses together and your head started to feel dizzy.

“You’re so good, Y/N. Pleading and begging me so nicely. You’re all desperate just from a little nipple play. You’re perfect.”

The way he said your name made you feel so much. Horny. Desired. Happy. Just everything.

And then suddenly it all stopped. He let go of your hands and of your breast and just looked at you. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

His constant praise made you blush. “Thank you.”

“Such a good girl. Come on.” He took your hands again, this time more carefully, leading you of the table. “I’m not taking your virginity here. Let’s move this to my bed, hm?”

On the way to his bedroom, Daichi got rid of his shirt and jeans, leaving you too stunned to say anything. Everything about him was hot. You didn’t know where to look. And so far you only saw his backside.

When you wanted to do the same and get rid of your skirt, he somehow noticed and, without turning around, stopped you. “Don’t. I’ll be doing that myself.” Shit.

Finally in his room Daichi stopped before his bed and turned around. His chest was even better than his back. So pretty and muscular. But you didn’t dare to look further than that.

“Come here.” He said, so you did. Stepping closer to him only in your skirt and panties underneath. Chest open and bare, but he not once stopped looking right in your eyes. Not even when he started to slowly get on his knees.

That’s when it hit you. Suddenly you took a big step backwards. Away from him. Feeling embarrassed. Without saying anything Daichi came back up. He was obviously confused, but not really surprised. Probably only wondering what exactly made you reconsider. So he asked.

“What is it, sweetheart? You have to tell me otherwise I can’t help you.”

“I am not- I didn’t- shave. I never had a reason to do it so far. I sometimes trim in the summer but I- it’s been a while. I’m sorry. I don’t-“ you started rambling in a panic. And even though Daichi found it cute, he didn’t want you to panic. So he interrupted you.

“You think I care? Because I don’t. If you feel ashamed about it and want to stop than that’s okay and valid. But don’t think you have to because of me. I want to eat you out either way. If you let me.”

Your entire face heated up and you looked away. He was so straightforward about this stuff. “Okay.”

“Okay, what? Look at me when you say it, sweetheart. And be more specific.” So you did.

“Okay, we can keep going. I want to continue. Please.”

“Such a good and polite girl. You wanna keep going? You gonna let me eat that pussy, baby? You want that? Hm?”

“Yes. Please.”

Without saying another word he again got on his knees carefully peeling your skirt off. Leaving you in your bright blue panties. He chuckled. They almost looked like boxer shorts. “They’re more comfortable…” you muttered.

“Don’t apologise. I think it’s cute.”

He grabbed your thighs and slowly spread them apart, kissing their insides, sucking and leaving marks. And then finally, you moaned. Not whined. Not whimpered. Moaned.

“Fuck. You sound so good baby. You like it when I kiss you here? Down where no one can see? Mark you up just for you and me to know. Hm?”

One of your hands buried itself in his messy hair, the other found its place on his shoulder, squeezing. You didn’t dare look at him, so you closed your eyes, sighed and nodded. Subconsciously pressing your lower body in his face.

He let this one slide. You were clearly overwhelmed. So he just hooked his fingers in your panties and pulled them down to your feet. You cringed at the feeling of how sticky they were from your wetness.

Daichi cursed. “Fuck.” The carpet most definitely matched the drape and you weren’t lying, you didn’t shave or trim in some time, but he’d seen more bush before. He liked how your little clit still peaked through. God, he wanted to lick it so bad. But first he had to get you to bed.

Without a warning he lifted you up and practically threw you onto his bed. Crawling on top of you. And even though you tried not to stare and be polite, you still got a good look of his body when he did so. How was that supposed to fit inside of you?! And you so far only saw its outline.

Daichi kissed his way down your body. This time paying a lot less attention to your breasts and quickly getting where he wanted to be.

He spread your legs as wide as he can, finally getting a good look at your glistening cunt which was equally spread. “So fucking pretty. Shit.”

Then he flattened out his tongue and took a long swipe from your asshole to your clit. “Oh fuuuck! Daichi!” Your hand again found its way to his hair. Grabbing it, slightly tucking. The other one landed on your own head, covering your eyes.

You would’ve never imagined it to be so good.

And Daichi really had no mercy. Licking. Sucking. Even biting. His tongue switched up between circling your clit and fucking your hole.

Your moans and choked sounds were like music to his ears. They were addictive and he needed more. So he went harder, faster. More reckless. Your body squirmed, back arched and legs shaking. You needed more too. He could tell.

“Gonna fuck you with my fingers, yes, princess?”

“Yes! Ahh. Anything you want. Just do it. Please.”

At first his fingertips just brushed your hole. Teasing you and gathering your juice, spreading it all over your cunt. Everything was so messy.

Then he finally put one inside. Tauntingly slow. It was easy and painless, giving how wet you were at this point.

“Move!” You rolled your hips trying to get some friction. It felt as if you had lost all control over your body.

“Are you leading now? Are you giving me orders? That’s how it is now?” He teased, slowly starting to remove his finger.

“No! No, no, no. Please, I‘m sorry. I‘m sorry!“ you tried to follow his finger with your hips but Daichi stopped you with his free hand. “Behave, princess. Only then I‘ll give you what you want.“

Your hips automatically came to a halt. “‘M sorry.“

“It‘s okay, I know your just desperate.“ he finally got back to work, putting his finger in all the way, slowly moving it in and out and his tongue found your clit once again. You moaned and threw your head back, pressing it into the pillow beneath you. He felt you harshly tuck at his hair, trying to yank his head closer which made him moan as well.

The vibrations of his moaning went through your entire body and you looked down at him, meeting his stare. The intensity of it it and the way it didn‘t falter made you whimper. That‘s when you saw it. He was grinding his hips against the mattress. “Daichi-“

His head lifted and you could see your wetness being spread all around his mouth. Your face heated up and you looked away. Daichi chuckled at that and wiped his face with his free hand. “What is it? What do you need, baby?“

“Need you- need you to fuck me.“ Your breath hitched when his finger stopped. “You‘re not ready yet, sweetheart. Need to prep you more.“

“No. I can take it, I promise. Please, I need you.“ You pulled him up so he was face to face with you and placed both your hands on his cheeks. “Please? I promise, I‘ll tell you if I feel any discomfort.“

He sighed and nodded. He just couldn’t deny you. That‘s when your hands went down to his underwear and started to remove it. “You gotta tell me or I‘ll punish you, you hear me?“

Your hands came to a halt and your breath hitched, but you nodded. “Good girl.“

Without looking down you took him in your hand. It felt weird. Heavy and big, with a slight curve and a big vein on the side. You wondered how it would feel inside you without a barrier but you wouldn’t dare risk that. Daichi neither. He groaned at the feeling of you subconsciously stroking him. “There‘re condoms in the upper drawer. Take one of them.“ So you opened the drawer and mindlessly took the first on out you could get a hold of.

You wanted to give it to him but he stopped you. “That one has taste, princess. We don‘t need that today.“

You gulped. You wanted to. But you were to shy and horny to voice your needs. So you just put it back and took a different one, this time taking a look in the drawer, so you wouldn‘t make the same mistake again and gave it to him. “Very good. You‘re being so good for me.“

All this praise made you feel sp light headed and proud. Growing up you‘d never received much of it since your mother was so strict with you. “Thank you.“

He smiled and stroked your cheek and hair before putting on the condom. You watched him, blushing at the immense size. “This will be a little painful at first because you didn‘t let me prep you properly. I‘ll go slow and careful but I need you to tell me if it‘s too much, do you understand?“

“Yes. I understand.“

“Good girl. Are you comfortable?“ You nodded but quickly muttered a quiet yes when you saw his disapproving face. He took your hands in his and pressed them onto the mattress, kissing you.

You soon melted and relaxed in the kiss which was much slower and more sensual than the one on the table. Not breaking the kiss Daichi lined himself up at your entrance and started to gently force his way inside you. You winced, accidentally biting his lip which only made him moan.

He was right, it was painful. But it wasn‘t unpleasant, just weird. He urged himself further and you started to feel really full, but when you broke the kiss and looked down, you realised that he was only half wat inside you. “Oh.“

“Want me to stop? I will.“ he said through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. It was clear to you how much he had to hold back. “No, it’s okay. Please keep going“

He nodded and moaned when he continued. “You‘re so fucking tight, shit.“ The way you made him feel good, made you feel so good as well and despite the pain you moaned along with him. You wanted him to feel good.

He stopped once he was all inside you. His head fell on your shoulder and he breathed heavily. “You good, baby?“

You brushed through his hair. He was probably like this because you couldn’t stop gushing and clenching around him. “I‘m good just- give me a second please.“ you whined. “Of course. Take all the time you need.“

It took you a good while to adjust but Daichi waited patiently. To distract himself he started kissing you everywhere. On your lips, your ear, your forehead and then your neck where he even star to bite und suck, probably leaving marks you had to cover in the morning.

To distract you, his hand wandered south and circled your clit, trying to relax you. It worked. You whimpered and whined and quickly after you began to unclench and roll your hips against his hand, grinding on his dick and moaning. “You can move now.”

Daichi lifted his head and looked at you in awe. Your eyes were closed, but no squeezed shut, your mouth was just slightly opened and your nose scrunched, he doubted you even realized.

You were so breathtakingly beautiful and you were lying in his bed, naked and needy. And you were giving yourself to him, a complete stranger and he felt so lucky.

His train of thoughts were interrupted by an impatient groan and your hips rolling against him. He gasped. Today was not the day to keep such a beauty waiting for her pleasure, so he gently grabbed your hips and started to pull out and repeatedly thrust into your wet walls.

First really slow and gentle. Until your legs wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him closer. His Name left your lips like a chant, begging him to go faster. Harder.

“Daichi- please. Need it. Hngg- more more more.”

So he did. His hips started to rhythmically snap forward, trying to find that special spot and when he did, your loud moan was like music to his ears. He sped up his pace, keeping the hard force behind every thrust.

To keep you in place his hands started to grip you harder and he was sure there would be marks in the morning. But none of this seemed to bother you. Quite the opposite. You seemed to like it a little harder. Noted.

Your back arched from his bed and your hands gripped the mattress so hard, your knuckles lost color. All the while letting out the most desperate little moans.

They weren’t too loud or pornographic and he wanted to drown in you. You were so perfect and real. Not holding back but also not forcing anything to boost his ego. You were just enjoying yourself.

His head lowered again and he one of your sensitive nipple in his mouth again. This time a little harder. Harshly sucking and biting until you fisted his hair with your hands and tears rolled down your cheeks.

Only then did he remove himself and lick one last time so soothe the pain, just to switch sides and repeat his actions. You threw your head from one side to the other from time to time, tucking and pushing his. Your eyes screwed shut once again.

But he never faltered and when he could suddenly feel your legs start to shake and tighten around his hips, he knew you were about to finish. His lips removed themselves from your breast and instead he kissed you. Rough and harsh. Biting your lips and forcing his tongue down your throat.

His sudden aggressiveness startled but didn’t scare you. But you were also so overwhelmed with everything and when his hand wandered from your hip to your clit and rubbed it hard and fast with his fingers, you completely lost it.

Your mouth opened up, which left Daichi heavily breathing in your mouth, formed to a silent scream and all that came out of you were pathetic fast breaths.

Your glossy eyes were blown wide and looked at him with so much emotion, he almost came on the spot. But when they teared up even more and rolled back and you started to buck up into him because of the overstimulation, he bit on your lip and decided to hold back.

Instead he fucked you through it. His hips and fingers keeping a steady pace until you whimpered and tried to push him away.

“No more. No more.” You desperately pleaded.

So he pulled out, removed the condom and took matters into his own hand. Literally.

You curiously watched him jerk his hand and blushed. Was it weird that you wanted to do it for him? Touch him like he touched you and return the favor?

But instead of doin that you just opted with letting your hands wander on his back and to his biceps. Kissing his cheek and gathering your confidence to bite his ear and suck a mark below it. All the while pinching one of his nipples with shaky fingers.

Daichi moaned and went even faster. “Shit, baby. Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

Then he kissed your cheek and spilled his seed all over your stomach. Which oddly enough turned you on even more and made you whine.

You stayed like this for a minute or two and just looked each other in the eyes, breathing heavily. Until Daichi rolled of you two the side and you were both left staring at the ceiling.

He was the first to turn on his side, staring at you worried. With his clean hand he brushed your hair out of your face and made you look at him as well. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You blinked a few times, furrowing your brows. “I don’t know. I enjoyed it really much. I just feel- weird? Is that offensive to you?”

“Not at all. Come here.” He pulled you in, kissing your temple and holding you tight to his chest. None of you cared about his sticky hand or your dirty stomach.

His clean hand comped through your hair and he whispered sweet nothings right into your ear. Praising and complimenting you.

-

Later the two of you got out of bed, or more Daichi dragged your complaining figure and threw it over his shoulder. “You need to pee, Y/N. I mean it. And then we’ll have to shower or take a bath.”

You just groaned. Luckily he couldn’t see the embarrassment on your face from having your ass almost entirely in his face. “I don’t even feel the need to pee!”

“Then you will drink water and force yourself to do it still. Don’t make me punish you, baby. You’re not ready for that.”

His continues hints on being rougher and more dominant with you, made you blush and even horny, so that you had to resist the need to kick your feet and giggle like a schoolgirl.

You didn’t even notice how you clenched your thighs together, which made only made Daichi smirk. He would definitely go harder on you next time. Besides, he promised you to make you cum as many times as your body could handle and he was not one to break a promise.

PLEASE this was so much fun to write!! I hope you had just as much fun reading it! Let me know what you think since this is my first time publishing anything I’ve written and if you would like me to turn this into a series, let me know please!! I am seriously considering doing it.

[oblique-lane]

idk if youve done it yet but i would actually lose my mind if you did an analysis for demo

Aye aye captain 🫡 Time to overdramatize again!

Let's address Demo's wounds

(Demo's backstory was changed through the years but I'm sticking to the older version because I find it more grounded)

Demoman's story is easily one of the most tragic of all the mercs. Imagine you have been abandoned from birth, your parents simply rejected you for what you are. But luckily you have been adopted by some good people who replaced your parents and made you a relatively happy child.

And then you accidentally kill them. You're 6 years old. How does that feel?

I can't even imagine how a child's brain can't comprehend the idea of being a murderer. It was an accident, of course, they were blown up by a big explosion he created (genius kid found out how to do that, huh?) but still. His parents were dead and he knew it was his own fault. He learned he was dangerous as he is.

How was it like pondering about it in the orphanage?.. "I didn't want this! I want to go back and fix it, I'm so sorry", something like that. But he couldn't go back in time, so being covered in such an avalanche of guilt, he learned he needs to repress himself.

Demo have always had an explosive temper (no pun intended), it was his true nature, pure emotion: if he's happy, it's 100%; if he's angry, it's a full blown storm. If he loves, he loves with all of his heart, and he has a big one.

Living on the impulse, all or nothing, that crucial accident revealed that letting his true nature go will only end up as destruction in the end. Irreparable damage.

We don't know what exactly was happening to him during his orphanage years, but if I'm to guess, repressing everything about him: his interests, his character, his whole nature, was a thing to choose. He thought that he had to become still and quiet as to not to repeat that kind of tragedy ever again. He probably didn't have people to be friends with either, either because people rejected him for his past, or he avoided them himself due to his internalized shame, at least that's a guess.

But everything repressed returns to the surface sooner or later. As a child, living for so long under overwhelming guilt, grief, hate, pain and sadness, under the skies that are almost never sunny in a all-year-long damp and coldness of the Ullapool. Incomprehensibly grey. It was depriving.

He was always fascinated with explosions. He didn't touch it for a long time, but maybe something like seeing fireworks again one day made something inside him tremble... And to remember.

Explosions. Launch... Acceleration... Release. And every time the release happens, his soul fills with excitement, the body feels lighter and shivers go up the spine. Release happens inside his head too, for the explosions make his worries and pain go away for a moment.

He couldn't find another way to release his bottled up emotions, so gradually he returned to make explosives again.

It was something like an addiction. Similar to pyromania, except no one bothered to research this one. At the moment of explosion he could let his anger out, he could scream, he could run around freely, he could sense heat in his chest; he could be himself. As he once was.

Everything was cold. But the explosions were hot.

He thought it was under control, just a little bit of KABOOM after school, but he craved more and more every time, more vivid, more violent...

That's how he lost his eye. (...Was it a subconscious act of selfharm?)

The missing eye was a forever reminder of how deviated he actually was. He learned that he couldn't repress or change what he truly is - a monster. A Black Scottish Cyclops, wether it were his peers who called him like that or he himself, out of misery. There was indeed something seriously wrong with him.

It seemed like the only thing he was capable of is destruction. Destruction is the only environment he's comfortable with. Peace was always so anxious and depriving, and breaking things felt calming, so he figured it must be right.

And then his birth mother came and took him back, "now that's he's a worthy DeGroot". It was unexpected but... Pleasant. So he wasn't THAT worthless after all, huh? Turns out, it was really familial, the destruction thing. At least he found out that there was a reason behind all of this.

His new mom was, saying honestly, pretty cruel with words. She was not at all gentle, she was very strict, demanding and straight up abusive. It was never enough for her no matter what Demo did. She didn't want results from his work, she's just always wanted to mess with his brain.

And for whatever reason... This setup felt right for him. To be thrown around like that, to be humiliated harshly, it felt fitting, it wasn't causing anxiety or anything. He has to be a scapegoat, he had to forget about being a child and to start working as an adult, at the same time somehow replacing a father he still didn't have, but it felt good enough. Confusing relationships felt good enough.

Destruction was his habitat, and his heart could no longer accept anything else.

Cruelty wasn't warm though, just familiar, just an environment to not to go insane. But he craved warmness so badly... Yet every time he would get close to someone and receive a little gentleness and care, it would feel sickening. It felt unnatural, it reminded him of his lost parents and of everything that's wrong about him.

The only warmness his body could accept was alcohol, making him bubbly and comfortable and relaxed. He almost felt normal, happy even. Alcohol heat made him melt, and he felt so fulfilled as if he was in paradise, back to the womb.

Yet after the effect wears off, he feels lonely as ever. Quickly, existing without alcohol becomes pain. Existing at all. He became an addict.

Not that everyone he met rejected him, rather, he subconsciously reached out to those who would be cruel to him. Again, gentleness hurts wether he knows it or not. He's only good in destruction.

Lonely and clingy, ready to overshare, overall mess yet carrying a big baggage of love that has no one to give it to. Maybe because he can't give it to himself in the first place. There's so many issues unresolved because he can't handle them alone, yet there's no one to help since he was already trapped in a closed circuit of self sabotage.

He will keep acting like a party beast, always crazily emotional and overdone upbeat, a simple drunken man who will not be taken seriously that way. Maybe that's what he wanted, to not be seen as deep by anyone for not be reminded of his misery once again.

Seems like we bought that too.

...

The enemy Soldier might be an exception though. The man he really treasures his friendship with turned out to be an enemy; repeating the rule again: it's only acceptable when dangerous. Soldier deeply cares for Demo, however he's not gentle or pitying, he's as destructive and explosive as Demo is, and these two are a very rare perfect combination of destructing each other in the act of love. Both broken beyond repair, soul on soul, forever to be misunderstood by the outsiders. This is something about this relationship that looks like a golden lining.

They will not fix each other, but they sure are going to have a good time!

[etfrin]

— ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏᴛ ᴘʟᴀɴꜱ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ? | ꜱᴘᴇɴᴄᴇʀ ʀᴇɪᴅ

✧— ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: NSFW | subby to soft dom! Spencer, fem! Reader, insecure Reader in the beginning, Spencer gets punched once, oral sex (male receiving), blood kink if you squint, praise kink if you squint, no use of y/n, uses of nicknames such as baby, sweetheart etc, fingering (female receiving), squirting, pussy slapping, overstimulation if you squint | lmk if I forgot something!

✧— ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: A blind date with Dr. Spencer Reid ends in a surprising manner, including a spilt lip and a thief

✧— ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.6k

✧— ᴀ/ɴ: probably one of my most favourite work I ever wrote, please give it love <33

「ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ」

You were on a blind date with Dr. Spencer Reid.

Penelope had set you both up, and you had agreed to the date because there was no harm in it. The man himself was punctual meanwhile you were unfortunately ten minutes late. In your defense, you had to keep redoing your eyeliner.

You won't admit it to him when he asks why you were late. Instead, you said dismissively, “Oh, it's the traffic.” The stare he gave you assured you of the fact that he knew you were lying.

“The rush hour shouldn't begin in this area for another hour. Even then if you were truly stuck in traffic, you would have come even later,” he said as a matter of fact.

You raised your eyebrows in shock, your lips parting as you scoff. “Ah.. yes.. well..” You decided to let him know the truth, “It was actually because my eyeliner kept getting messed up and I had to redo it. I am sorry.”

“No need to apologize. The average woman spends about 22 and a half minutes getting ready when they go out,” he said, his fingers tapping on the table.

“Oh,” you said, taking in the fact, you suppress the urge to Google it to see if he's correct. “That's cool,” you smile softly at him.

The rest of the date goes averagely well. Spencer told you as much as he could about his work and you did the same. You learned about the man's IQ, and about the fact he was a genius. The longer the date goes on, you seem to realize you're not for someone who has achieved so many things at such a young age.

Your whole life was a mess. And Spencer noticed that you were hesitant to talk about yourself after finding out more about him. The date ended on a polite note. Despite the fact, you decided not to call him back, you liked him. He was sweet, a bit dorky but you liked hearing his random rants about things you never even thought about before.

The man insisted on walking you home and you agreed. It was a thirty-minute walk. As you both started walking, it was hard to keep pace with him. He had slowed down for you, and your hand kept brushing with his. But neither of you made the next move of simply holding hands.

You wanted to though.

Both of you continue walking in silence. You notice the full moon in the sky and grin. “The moon is so pretty,” you whispered.

“Yeah, very pretty,” Spencer mumbled back while looking at you.

You looked at him, and asked, “Wanna hold hands as well? It's kinda chilly.”

“I don't see how holding hands would help with the fact you're feeling cold. Would you like my jacket instead?”

You don't say anything, smiling at the agent so he would get the hint. He doesn't. You shake your head at yourself and state the obvious, “I would like to hold hands with you as we walk. Can I, Reid?”

He flushed, crimson covering his pale face. He stutters, “Ye- yes I would like that. And please call me Spencer.” He offers you his hand and you tangle your fingers with his. Within the next second the sweet moment is ruined.

A thief had come out of nowhere and had snatched your back. You stand there gaping at the figure that seems smaller by the second. Spencer didn't take a moment to react; he sprinted after the unsub. You get out of your stupor, your legs make you run towards the thief albeit slower than Spencer.

Spencer catches him. The agent gets punched but he quickly takes control of the situation. He twists the thief’s arm while you take your purse that was now on the street. You take out your phone and call the police. The police arrive soon.

Spencer handles everything and the thief is taken away. You notice that Spencer had a split lip and he was bleeding. “Hey,” you said, taking his attention away from the police. You raise your hand and you touch the cut. He winces.

“Sorry,” you mutter, “My house is right around the corner. I have first aid.” You add, knowing that he doesn't know how to take hints, “Come up?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. Fuck, he's adorable. Even with his perfect hair now a complete mess. He looked much, much better as a mess. You had to suppress the urge to lick the bead of blood on his lips.

“That would be nice,” he mumbles.

You bring the man to your apartment, Spencer has taken care of everything. You'll have to go to the police station tomorrow to give a statement. Right now, you focus on the pretty boy instead. You make him sit on the couch.

You bring out the first aid. You wet the cotton with the antiseptic, you sit in front of him. You already liked him. There's no denying that. But seeing him messy with blood turned you on to no fucking end. He was pretty before, now he's sexy to you. Your poor panties were suffering because of it. Completely utterly soaked with your arousal.

You act normal as you sit in front of him. You tilt his head and he lets you. Fuck. Even that made your cunt clench around nothing. You swallow as you press the bud onto his cut. He lets out a whimper. And... you felt yourself going insane, wanting to hear that sound on repeat.

You clean up the wound to the best of your abilities. You sit back satisfied. You grin at him, your hand musing his hair up because you just couldn't control yourself. “All done, pretty boy.”

You can't help but feel disappointed that it was over. He will leave. You'll drown in your own insecurities to ever ask for a second date. “You didn't like me much, did you?” Spencer asked. His hand is in his hair desperately trying to fix his ruined hairstyle.

You scoff playfully, “Why would you think that?”

“Most people I meet find me… overwhelming. Weird,” Spencer said, “I agreed to this date expecting nothing different. It was to satisfy Garcia. But��� you were certainly nicer than the people I have met before. I would like to thank you for that.”

Your heart aches as you hear his words. You lean in, both of you sharing the same air now. Your hand is on his cheek, your thumb caressing his skin. “You're not weird, Spencer. You're unique. And you're out of my league. I am sorry if I made you feel bad-”

“No, you didn't,” he cuts you off, leaning in even closer. His eyebrows are furrowed as if he doesn't understand his actions. It was like you were gravity-pulling him in. Your lips brush with his, your breathing heavy. You can hear your heartbeat thumping against your ribcage.

“I never felt this way before,” he murmured, his hands getting tangled in your hair. His eyes were dark, and he closed them. He tried to pull back, trying to have a bit of self-control. He couldn't, he only leans in further, trying to close the gap between both of your lips.

“What way?” You whispered, wondering how you could make this man feel anything.

“I have an urge to kiss you. I have had that urge since you had bitten your lip nervously when I called you out in your childish lying. I have wanted to kiss you since you smiled at me genuinely as I was talking about things you as an average person couldn't possibly be interested in nor were you paying attention."

“Hey!” You chuckled, finding your way to his lap. “I was paying attention,” ‘To your lips’, you didn't add.

“Were you?” He challenged.

“Hmm,” you hum, your hands around his shoulders now. Your fingers twirling his hair near his nape.

“Liar,” he giggles. “I never thought I would find it endearing.”

Your heart warms as you hear his words. “Kiss me, Spencer,” you whispered, forgetting about his split lip. Spencer doesn't seem to care about the cut because he pressed his lips to yours as soon as he got your consent. You moan, your lips parting to welcome his tongue.

The kiss was clumsy. Wet, and sloppy and you loved it. The faint taste of blood coates your taste buds and you love it. Your tongue caresses his, trying to engrave his taste on your lips. You bite his lower lip, opening his cut. He hisses but doesn't break the kiss.

The kiss turns bloody but neither of you cares.

You rather enjoyed it more than you should. You lick the cut before kissing him again, he sucks your tongue tasting his blood on you. Both of you break the kiss before your lips meet his lips again in haste.

He groans into your mouth. You break the kiss and whisper, “Want you.” Your hands were on the hem of his sweater. “Can I?” You asked. He nods and you take it off. You then begin to unbutton the brown dress shirt he wore.

As soon as you get him undressed. Your hands begin to explore his body. He was lanky, and you loved it. He shivers when your finger tweaks his nipple. He sighs your name and you can feel his cock, hard and eager for attention beneath you.

“You like that, baby?” The nickname falls naturally from your lips. Your tongue ghosts over his neck, the hollow of his collarbone. He doesn't reply but you can feel his cock twitch. That's enough of an answer to you.

Your lips find his sensitive nipple. And you suck the hard pebble, enjoying his gasp. You smirk, as your tongue twirls against his sensitive flesh. Your hand gives his other nipple the same attention. You drag your tongue further down his stomach, your lips pressing wet kisses all over his heated skin. “Can I taste you, genius?” You whispered, your mouth took a bit of his skin to bite. You leave a mark of your teeth on his skin.

The mark looks good on him.

Spencer whines, “Yes, please.”

You unzip his pants, tug the cloth down, and free his legs of it. You were going to do the same for his boxers. But you decided to do something else. His boxer briefs were dark due to the pre-cum, one spot more prominent than others.

You place your lips there, and you suck his pre-cum that has seeped into the fabric. He groans at the sight, his eyes getting closed shut as his chest rises up and down. Spencer was breathing through his mouth. You find his cockhead, and suck harder, the material of the boxer getting darker and wetter because of your saliva.

Spencer moans your name, all loud and unabashed in the living room. With his moan comes a plea, “Don't tease, please.” You don't listen. Your tongue flicks over his clothed slit coaxing out more of his pre-cum. Only when you are satisfied with the mess you created, do you pull back. You snap the man back to reality by pulling the hem of his boxers and letting it snap on his skin. He whimpers, and you wonder briefly if he was as freaky as you. You wondered if he liked pain.

A discovery for another day.

You set him free from the confines of his boxers. His cock springs up, the cockhead hitting his stomach. The cockhead was a dark pink, bordering on a painful red. His cock was begging to cum with the way the veins were bulging, and his slit kept letting out beads of pre-cum. He was long enough to stretch out your cunt perfectly, he was thick enough to roll your eyes back.

He was… to describe this with a single word was impossible. All you knew was that you wanted his cum in your mouth, you wanted his cum painting your pussy walls. You wanted him. You wanted him ruined by you. You don't let a single thought of insecurity creep into your mind.

You distract yourself with his cock instead. You use your hand to squeeze more pre out of him. You enjoy the way the pearly white liquid drips onto your hand. You press a kiss to each of his balls. He gasps, both of his hands in a tight fist. His eyes were closed.

“Look at me, baby,” you whispered, “Look at me as I have my meal, baby.”

You lick all over his cockhead. You don't care if he opened his eyes or not. You were too busy moaning as you tasted him. Salty, and thick, you loved it.

Spencer Reid is now your favorite flavor.

You begin to take more of his cock in your mouth. Stopping halfway through his length because you didn't want to choke. You close your eyes and take a deep breath through your nose before you hollow your mouth. You begin to suck, not giving a fuck about your technique. You're hungry. You're eating him up.

This was as simple as that.

Your tongue runs all over his shaft, and the corners of your lips have saliva and pre-cum oozing out. Making you look like an absolutely pathetic mess. Spencer whimpers as he looks at you, his hand coming down to gently wipe away the mess. Even when his mind was numb with pleasure, he managed to be sweet. You reward his sweetness with a harsh suck causing his hips to thrust forward. The action made you take more of his cock, and you choke.

He tries to pull out but you stop his ministrations with a sharp slap on his thigh. You glare at him despite the fact your view is blurry with tears. Spencer tenses before relaxing. “Sorry,” he groans, “I didn't mean to do that. Feels so good, sweetheart.”

The nickname is a melody to your ears. You begin to bob your head upside down. You blink, letting the tears fall, you see the way his knuckles were turning white from the fists he made. You put your hands over his fists and pry them open. You intertwined his fingers with yours. His nails now dig into your skin, and yours does the same. You both have crescent-shaped marks on each other's hands.

Your nails dig into his skin a bit harder as you slowly take more of his cock down your throat. You take him down to the hilt, your nose pressed into his mound and you breathe in his primal scent. It drives you fucking insane. It reminds you of your sopping wet cunt that is aching to be filled.

Your eyes roll back as you continue. You move a bit and find yourself between one of his legs. You pressed yourself against the shin of his leg. You moan, the vibration of the sound sends jolts of pleasure to the boy. He cums, all thick and hot down your throat without a warning.

You let his cock slip out of your mouth, you couldn't manage to swallow all of his cum. It coats your lower chin, you rest your head on his thigh as you begin to ride his leg like a deprived whore. Your soaked panties weren't much of a textural pleasure against your pussy. But you would take anything you can get.

You wanted to cum. That's it.

Your actions are interrupted by a sharp yank of your hair. You moan from the pain and the pleasure that comes along with it. Your blurry eyes focus on Spencer, looking at you with wide brown eyes. “Come up, darling,” he said, gently, “Let me take care of you now.”

You whimper, hating the way you were interrupted but listen. You find yourself on his lap again, your back pressed to his chest. The brown-haired boy kisses your nape. “You were so good to me,” he praises, “Thank you.”

You wanted to reply, but instead, you let out a soft noise. Your head resting on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Good girl,” and you nearly cum from the praise. His eyes are curious as he sees your reaction. The man is memorizing your reactions so he can play your body like a fiddle in the future.

You were giving him all the answers.

Good girl indeed.

He unbuttons the blouse you were wearing. It reveals your bra, and your nipples straining against the silk material. Spencer pulls the bra up, freeing your breasts. Spencer hums in satisfaction as he uses both of his hands to knead the soft flesh. You moan as he pinches your nipples, he plays with your breasts effectively.

You were so wet, you could feel your juices had coated your thighs. “Spencer,” you whine, “Do something please.”

He stills, “You want more?” He breathes down your neck, and you shiver as you feel the exhale of air on your skin.

“Yes,” you beg.

“What do you want?” He asked, his hand sprawled over your tummy. He pressed his hand softly, his fingers tapping on your skin in the similar way he tapped the wood at the beginning of the date.

“Anything,” you gasp, “anything you give me, Spence.”

He chuckled, and it was a bit mean to your ears. “And to think you didn't like me. How wrong you have proven me, darling. One of the few to ever do so,” he whispered, his tongue peeking out to lick the shell of your ear. You moan as you feel the wet muscle on your skin.

His hand travels further down your body. His finger snapped the button of your jeans open. He slides down your jeans alongside your panties down to your knees. Exposing your glistening pussy to the cold air. You let out a heavy sigh, your eyes closing as you melt into his touch.

He was looking at your pretty cunt, his fingers pushing your pussy lips aside to see your cute clit and your slit. “Beautiful,” he whispered. And he watched your cunt clench around nothing. He pressed his palm onto your slick sex, he began to slowly soak his palm onto your arousal. The pressure of his hand is delicious.

But you needed to be ravished.

He pulled his hand away before he brought it back to your pussy in the form of a slap. You jolt in his hold as he slaps your pussy, once, twice. The wet sound ringing in your ears as you nearly cum from this.

“You're really wet,” he notes, his fingers swiping up and down your folds. His digits were glistening with your arousal. You don't say anything, feeling your body burning with lust.

His thumb finds your clit, he plays with the bud. Flickering it with his fingers, even going as far as pinching it. He makes the poor bud all swollen and sensitive, you let him do all that, getting closer to your high from the simple yet mind-blowing touches.

“Spencer,” you moan, as you feel his fingers playing around your slit. Teasing you with the hint of going in but never venturing inside of your walls. “Come on,” you whine.

He tuts you, his fingers finding your clit to pinch the bud rather harshly making you see stars. “Don't be impatient,” he said.

His finger finds your entrance again, this time he pushes his middle finger in. The slide is extremely easy and wet. You moan as you let yourself be filled. The single finger pressed deep inside of you, and he twisted the finger making you see white.

“Warm,” he mumbles, “Tight too…” He pressed his ring finger in, and soon he was knuckles deep inside of your pussy. “You can take it,” he whispered, as his other arm was wrapped around your stomach keeping you caged.

“Yes,” you agreed with a loud whine, “I can!”

He begins to slowly fuck his fingers into you. The squelching sounds made because of how slick your pussy was spurring him on. “So wet for me,” he groaned near your ear, as his fingers found your spongy spot.

You gasp he expertly curls his fingers to the spot, his fingers rubbing the soft, yet hard sensitive muscle. You begin to squirm, feeling entirely overwhelmed. His arm tightened around you. His fingers begin to thrust inside you, faster and faster by each second.

You cry out his name. He doesn't stop. He won't stop. “Please, please, please!” You beg, but you don't tell him to stop so he continues. His lips were pressed to your neck, his tongue licking your pulse. “Good girl,” he groaned, as his fingers got soaked in your juices. Your slick walls clenched around his digits like a glove as you feel closer and closer to the edge.

He pushed a third finger in without warning. And it burns, but it burns so good that your eyes roll back. The coil that had gathered in your stomach snaps, and you feel yourself relax as your mind lets go. You don't even realize you're squirting, your cunt spasming around Spencer's fingers.

It feels so, so good.

You feel your eyes getting droopy, you feel yourself completely content and your mind breaking away from reality. You think you hear Spencer softly calling your name out. And you swear you whispered a coherent response.

You feel a pair of lips kissing your forehead.

“Don't worry, I'll take care of you.”

Suffice it to say, that wasn't the only date you and Spencer went on.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

FOOLISH SPRING WINDS, BLOW MY WAY ; SATORU GOJO

summary; a snippet of the spring you share with a certain satoru gojo — who seems intent on making your high school life as difficult as possible.

word count; 5.4k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, enemies to friends (..but the ’enemy’ part is kinda one-sided), fluffy n sweet overall, satoru doesn’t know how to make friends + thinks lighthearted bullying constitutes as a bonding activity, he’s a little shit but he means well, switching povs, lots of gojo slander (but reader sees the light eventually), big shoujo vibes, they’re both tsunderes <33

a/n; i ended up scrapping the series i wrote this fic for originally, so i thought i’d rewrite it and repost it on its own!! teentoru is such a grumpy little kitten i need to squish his paws

satoru gojo is annoying.

it might seem blunt, but after many weeks of careful thinking, you’ve decided no description could possibly fit him better. 

when you first met him, on that first day of school, you had no idea what to think. no real expressions or tonal shifts to clue you in on who he was, how he felt — nothing but the slightest peek of a terrifying blue to set your nerves on edge. 

in hindsight, you’re almost certain it was intentional. he wanted to appear unreadable. purposefully hiding his personality and mannerisms, to gain the upper hand — observing you, dissecting you inside his mind, while revealing nothing about himself apart from his surname. 

it’s a kind of power; a safety measure.

… but evidently, holding back isn’t exactly gojo’s forte. the very next morning, he was already beginning to loosen up, after getting more accustomed to the new environment and classmates. showing you his true colours; just a little hint of cerulean, a single dip of paint on the blank canvas of his soul.

and with the revelation of his genuine personality — your unease around him festered even more.

where could you even begin to describe him? for one, he’s childish. and cocky. and loud. arrogant, selfish and flamboyant — just generally an asshole? you could go on and on. none of the traits are particularly flattering, and you know he couldn’t care less.

gojo is annoying, plain and simple. almost constantly up to something, eager to push someone’s buttons, to get attention. like a bratty toddler. uninterested in manners, or even common courtesy; he says what he feels, regardless of how other people take it. 

to put it simply, he has no regard for the people around him. his self-interest is limitless. 

as if that wasn’t annoying enough — you have no choice but to admit that he does have a certain presence to him. a kind of charisma, or what you think could become charisma, if he’d just get off that high horse already. he won’t, though. you know he won’t. he revels in it, in looking down on everything and everyone, annoyingly boisterous and irritatingly tall. freaky, long limbs. like a noodle and an alien had a baby.

but, more than anything — above all else — what frustrates you most is the fact that his unbridled confidence isn’t exactly unwarranted.

as much as it pains you to say it… gojo is maybe just a little bit incredible. a natural-born genius. he’s intelligent, and observant, and awfully pretty, with those baby blues eyes and those snowy locks of hair. and he has no issue getting what he wants. 

absolutely zero. 

there’s something admirable about it, in a twisted way. like he doesn’t even need to try. he’s good at anything, if he just gives it a single chance. you can only assume he’s never given much thought to the prospect of being a decent guy, because that’s the only thing he sucks at.

effortlessly perfect, in the most imperfect of ways. that’s probably how you’d describe him.

… annoying is still the most fitting word, though. or maybe obnoxious. he’s got this spoiled rich kid vibe that irks you, gets under your skin. you doubt he’s ever had to empathize with anyone, in his entire life. 

and, yes — maybe you’re being a little harsh to him. but why should you bother being jovial when he won’t return the favour?

gojo is annoying; and when you say that, you mean annoying to basically everyone. as a basis for existing. always teasing and taunting, looking down from that high horse of his. you’re no exception to this rule, of course. but you’re almost certain that he has it out for you specifically.

you know he looks down on you, from behind those tacky sunglasses. you’re sure of it.

compared to geto or shoko, you aren’t very self-assured — and you think he must have sensed it the moment he laid eyes on you. sensed that you’re a little meek, a bit of a doormat, easy to push around and get a rise out of. maybe he also noticed your apprehension towards him, your apparent unease. 

you’re easy prey, to put it simply.

evidently, he’s developed a fondness for getting under your skin. it started as soon as introductions were over, and it still hasn’t gotten better. he loves catching you off guard, throwing you an unneeded comment or two, just to see what reaction you’ll give him next. almost like he’s solving an equation — said equation being you, the limit of your patience. and you keep giving him what he wants; a scoff, a roll of your eyes, an earnest fuck right off. you can never seem to successfully ignore him. he’s just far, far too good at being insufferable.

… and, more than anything, he’s far too out of reach. even when you try to get along with him, it backfires. you don’t have a single thing in common. you don’t understand him at all. 

(and that suits you just fine.)

a heavy sigh slips from your parted lips, as you examine your blurry reflection in the surface of the mirror. fatigue clings to your skin like a layer of sweat, your mind muddled, stuffed with anxious thoughts and discomforting feelings.

you’re exhausted. completely and utterly spent, even though the day’s barely begun — running on three pitiful hours of sleep, all broken up and jumbled by nightmares that wouldn’t stop spooking you. not a single wink of proper rest. 

and it’s painfully obvious. in your face, your posture, the dark crescents beneath your eyes; in the way you can’t help but drag your legs as you walk, your hair disheveled, little sighs and grumbles slipping from your lips for every step you take. all you can do is sluggishly blink the exhaustion away.

you just feel so tired.

it could be worse, though. you don’t have any classes today, no real reason to get out of your comfy bed, leave the safety of your cozy little dorm room. but you need breakfast, right now, or else you’ll literally explode — so you still get up on shaky legs and try to mimic the appearance of someone… even moderately well-rested.

it doesn’t work, but that’s besides the point. 

so you make your way to the dormitory’s shared kitchen. walking idly — clumsily — enjoying the sight of fleeting, fluttering cherry blossoms through the windows you pass. little pink butterflies.

once you’ve crossed the threshold, you’re relieved to find the open space entirely devoid of people. no shoko, no geto, not even a mischievous gojo. running into the first two wouldn’t be the end of the world — but it still wouldn’t be ideal. you don’t want anyone seeing you like this, tired and meek, a little vulnerable.

(least of all gojo. you shiver at the bare thought.)

with laboured, groggy movements, you waltz around the kitchen, getting cups and plates and turning on the coffee machine. enjoying the soothing melody of the pan sizzling, singing along to the purring of espresso being made. it’s nice and pleasant to your sensitive ears, as you blink under the rays of sunlight shining in, throwing together a lazy breakfast. 

you waste no time in taking a seat by one of the tables once you’re finished. eager to soak in the peace and quiet, wolf down a sandwich and copious amounts of caffeine.

but, as always — the world seems to have it out for you specifically.

”oh? well, look who it is. and here i thought you had left too.”

you stiffen. ever so slightly, barely noticeable, but still enough that you physically feel the dread envelop every single cell of your body. the voice that echoes out across the open air is a chipper one, a familiar one. a voice you were desperately hoping not to hear today. 

all you can do is continue to sip from your cup of coffee, inwardly wincing, silently going through all five stages of grief simultaneously — before accepting your unfortunate predicament. 

(that’s just your luck, isn’t it?)

finally, you raise your weary head, knowing exactly what sight you’ll be met with once you do. 

and, lo and behold — there he is.

gojo looks the same as always. grinning brightly, a little woflish, wearing those ugly sunglasses and making his way across the room like he owns it. a trait you can’t help but admire, envy, hate and worship at the same time. he plops down next to you like it’s nothing, a little too close for comfort, unconcerned about your concept of personal space.

”whatcha up to?” he chirps, in that sugar sweet tone, layered over with a boyish kind of excitement. there’s a teasing tilt to it, too — the one that always accompanies his voice when he’s speaking to you.

under normal circumstances, you’d flip him off. maybe even just glare at him, silently, or raise a brow in challenge.

but you’re far, far too tired to. too anxious. too in need of sleep, in need of a peaceful breakfast that he oh so cruelly ripped from you. all you can muster is the energy to glance his way.

for just a second, your eyes meet. not like you can actually see them, from behind his glasses — but you know they’re there. menacing and uncanny, bright and excited. too much to handle, right now.

”… morning.”

as soon as the mutter has left your lips, you take a tentative bite of your sandwich. gaze trailing sluggishly back to your plate.

gojo blinks.

he immediately notes that your voice sounds meek. even more so than usual. he expected you to give him a scoff, or even just a timid huff — but no such luck. 

you’re just sitting there, quiet, curling into yourself.

after a moment’s consideration, gojo opts to look at you. to really look at you, study your face, the way those twitchy fingers move to curl around the ceramic handle of the cup you’re drinking out of. the way your eyes shift from place to place, unfocused, your eyelids flicking shut every couple seconds. slow.

he’s always been observant — but it doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re tired. 

gojo is silent, for no more than a mere moment; contemplating his next course of action. he’s never seen you like this, before. did something happen?

…

(— well, it doesn’t matter. not his problem.)

”you look like a zombie,” he grins, a little teasing, showing off the white of his teeth. even though you look out of it, he can’t help himself — despite his own intuition telling him to let you be. 

you’re just too fun to tease. suguru and shoko only ever raise their eyebrows at him, or stare him down like a misbehaving dog, but you always have a good reaction to give. something to entertain him when he’s bored, distract him when his mind is too full of noise. 

so he can’t help but tease you, a little. hoping it’ll soothe the restlessness inside his chest.

but for once, what gojo expects isn’t what he gets. 

what he expects is for you to glare at him. tell him to leave you alone, or even just sigh in exasperation — either one would be fine. it’s just mindless enjoyment, to him, a little fun to lighten up his day. 

especially now, when suguru is away on some day trip he wasn’t privy to. that traitor. shoko is nowhere to be seen, either, probably off smoking in some random alleyway. or hanging out with one of the kyoto losers.

… the whole dorm is so eerily quiet.

(gojo would never admit it, not in a thousand years… but maybe he’d feel just a little bit lonely without any of you around.)

for a while after waking up, he assumed he’d have to spend the whole day alone. no one to talk to, no one to look at. he was practically dying of boredom. but then he entered the kitchen — and saw his saving grace. his dear little irritable classmate. 

he was so relieved. content in the knowledge that he’d get to push your buttons to his heart’s desire, bask in your playful banter and cold, joking little looks until suguru finally comes home.

only this time — you don’t react at all. 

you don’t give him what he expects, don’t indulge his little antics, in the way he’s grown so accustomed to. you just keep eating your breakfast, and drinking your coffee, in total silence. 

gojo waits, just a couple moments more. hoping for a delayed reaction, a witty counter, a snarky comment. anything. 

but it never comes.

finally, he starts to sulk. slumping against the leather seat behind him, quieting down with a low huff. furrowing his brows, as his glossy, cherry-tasting lips curl down into a little pout.

honestly, he’s kind of annoyed. just what is your problem? what is with you, today? 

… it’s no fun if you’re not playing along. 

gojo can’t help but grumble, a little, under his breath. you’re usually so responsive, so easy to rile up. so what’s wrong? why are you just sitting there?

…

whatever. so what if you’re not talking to him? so what if you won’t even spare him a glance? gojo has better things to do, bigger fish to fry. he wasn’t even that excited, when he saw you. the thought of bantering with you didn’t lift his spirits, even in the slightest. 

not even a little bit.

…

but, really — would it take so much effort for you to just say something? to just respond to his friendly little quip? you can’t possibly be that tired. 

or, what — did you get insecure, or something? because he called you a zombie? no way. you’re not that sensitive… are you? or is that it? 

what a hassle.

you know he’s just messing with you. he knows you know. so why are you acting so…. 

(sad, gojo wants to think, but he buries the thought before it can reach his frontal cortex. he doesn’t want to empathize with you, not right now — doesn’t want to feel that discomforting pang in his chest.)

a strange sensation bubbles up in his chest. something frustrated, a little unnerved; at your lack of a reaction, the weak glint in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand why — and that frustrates him even more. 

why can’t you just bite back, like always?

(… it’s fun when you do.)

the silence lingers on, stretches out across the room, festers and grows as you gulp down your breakfast. all while gojo keeps on sulking, still sitting beside you, waiting for something to happen. he briefly considers getting up and leaving, or saying something annoying to hopefully spur you on —

but you stand up before he can convince himself to go through with either option.

having finished your breakfast, your legs carry you to the sink. finally, you can head back to your room. gojo’s being weirdly quiet, but you pay no mind to it; methodically washing your dishes in silence. 

you don’t bother saying goodbye to him, either. still sitting there, seemingly deep in thought, grumbling something under his breath. 

he watches as you leave, gaze trailing after you, until you’re completely out of sight. 

then he lays down, flat on his back, with a frustrated huff. trying desperately to brush away the memory of your dim eyes, the slight frown on your lips. the dark circles under your eyes, that he tried so hard not to notice because they made him feel so weirdly uncomfortable. the meek, meek look you gave him.

gojo sighs.

(he feels just a tiny, tiny bit bad.)

when you wake up from your slumber, you immediately note that your body feels lighter.

this time, no nightmares came to haunt you. having practically collapsed once your head hit the pillow, your body finally decided to give you some peace of mind, some well needed rest. thankfully.

with a groan, you lazily stretch out your limbs — enjoying the feeling of your veins waking up, gaze falling on the clock on your wall. you’ve only been asleep for about two hours, or so, but it’s more than enough to give you the little jolt of energy that you need.

what to do, what to do. you still have the whole day ahead of you. another nap wouldn’t hurt, but you don’t want to waste your precious free time just rotting in bed — maybe you could take a walk around the schoolyard instead? the cherry blossoms have started to unfurl, and the grounds of the school are just littered with them.

even just the mental image is enough to have you changing into some light and comfortable clothes, reaching a hand out to push your door open. excitement stirring in your veins.

as you do so, something is knocked over.

all you hear is a soft little thud, accompanied by the sensation of something colliding with the door. a low curiosity overtakes you — eagerly peeking around for a look at the mysterious something.

your gaze falls on something pink.

it’s tiny, awfully out of place, just laying unassumingly on the dusty floorboards. as you crouch down to get a better look, you recognize it instantly; a small carton of strawberry milk. a plastic straw plastered on its side, and an evil looking cow mascot staring at you from the front. one of the items sold in the schoolyard’s vending machines — your personal favorite. you drink it every time you need a tiny pick-me-up, the sweet taste always managing to soothe your spirits.

and it was sitting right outside your door.

you stare at it, silently, in deep contemplation. holding it in your hand as the gears turn inside your head. could someone have dropped it? no, that’s dumb — who’d drop it right outside your door and then not pick it up?

… did someone leave it for you, then? because they know you like it? that could be it, maybe, but who would —

…

your mind stills. 

(no way.)

when you think about it — that’s the only explanation that makes sense. shoko and geto aren’t there, and you barely know any of your senior students. yaga-sensei would never give you strawberry milk without a lecture on the dangers of cavities, either.

that just leaves one possible culprit.

but you can’t wrap your head around it. why would he do something like that? he doesn’t like you — you know that much. so it couldn’t possibly be him.

… then again, you have seen him drink it. both of you like it, contrary to your other classmates; shoko doesn’t like sweet things in general, and geto wouldn’t go for strawberry milk if he could choose something else. it might as well be the only thing you and gojo have in common — the one thing that binds you two together. 

a single carton of strawberry milk. 

it’s almost comical.

(if it’s really true — if he really did do it… then you wonder why. maybe he noticed that you were feeling under the weather, and figured it’d make you happy. 

you wonder if it’d be foolish of you, to believe that it’s true — if only because you kinda like the idea.)

your feet move on their own, before your mind has a chance to question the decision. 

where could he be? in the kitchen, still? in his dorm?

just as you begin to wonder, a flash of white dances in the corners of your vision. when you glance out the window, you see it; white, soft hair, like a fluffy cloud, in the midst of all the pink petals fluttering about. 

you stop.

then you start walking again. with more decision, this time. hurrying to the exit.

gojo is sitting right outside the dormitory, on a wooden bench, legs swinging idly as he gazes at the sky. his hair sways slightly with the breeze, soft strands moving and caressing his skin. pink petals dance all around him, gracefully descending down to the ground, together with a trail of bubbles. gojo is blowing them, haphazardly, following their movement with his keen eyes. they glimmer in the sunlight, reflecting all shades of the rainbow.

the sight is just a little bit breathtaking. 

the ground crunches beneath your feet, when you take a step forward — and gojo turns towards you. you stiffen like a deer in headlights, instantly regretting your decision. blinking nervously. you walked here almost entirely on impulse, but now that you’re face to face…

(it’s a little scary.)

… still, it’s far too late to back out now. you can’t do much except join him, so that’s exactly what you do — albeit a little hesitantly.

trying to ignore his continuous stare, burning into the side of your head, you plop down beside him. feeling the steady bench beneath you, breathing in the scent of sweet-smelling cherries and soap.

an uncomfortable silence lingers in the air around you both, as he waits for you to say something. 

it’s a little tough. mustering up the courage to say anything, even just to face him. the decisiveness you felt just a moment ago has faded, now only the ghost of a sensation — you’re too nervous to verbalize anything.

but eventually, after a deep breath or two, you force yourself to speak. hoping you won’t come to regret it.

”… hey, gojo?” 

it’s almost a whisper. soft and fragile, mumbled beneath your breath as you stare at the cherry trees in front of you. you know his eyes are on you, though. you can feel them, almost feel their weight in the palm of your hand. like marbles.

weakly, you raise up the carton of strawberry milk. glancing over at him, not quite managing a smile, but trying your best to look somewhat appreciative. 

”thanks.”

a confused blink. gojo looks down the strawberry milk, and then back up at you. eyelashes fluttering.

a moment passes. 

then he turns his head away, swiftly, his hair tousled by the movement — a couple pink petals stuck between the soft strands. you can’t see his face anymore.

”i have no idea what you’re talking about,” he huffs, with a voice you’ve never heard him speak through.

when you look a little closer — you think the tips of his ears may be just slightly red. it makes your lips curl up into a small smile, but you barely feel it.

(like this, he’s actually kind of cute.)

cherry blossoms flutter in the wind, dancing joyously, without a care in the world. a spring breeze ruffles gojo’s hair, as he sits beside you, having begun to blow his bubbles again. not saying a word, and looking straight ahead. but you can’t help but stare, as sneakily as you can muster.

you find yourself thinking that he looks right at home, among the petals. fleeting, hard to get a grasp on, so pretty, and so out of reach — despite being so close. 

if you wanted to, you could reach over and touch him. you could reach for his sunglasses, lift them off his face, and finally see those eyes he’s so intent on hiding. you could see him, see straight into his soul — and find out who he really is.

you won’t, though. some boundaries aren’t meant to be so callously crossed.

instead, you puncture the pink carton in your hand with the plastic straw, and take a tentative sip. the sweet taste soothes you, straight away, blooming on your tongue. you can’t help but sigh, softly, relaxing even further — it’s absolutely perfect, for this kind of weather. the sight before you, cherry petals and shining bubbles, a boy you don’t like, but definitely don’t hate. 

you both look up, following the bubbles with your eyes, as they float up into the sky; as they get smaller and smaller, farther and farther out of reach. neither of you say a word, but the silence is comforting. light. 

gojo is the first one to break it — in a voice so small you barely hear it.

”… you don’t look like a zombie.”

a second passes. you’re left blinking in confusion, trying to decipher the sudden statement. you can’t get a good read on his expression, with those eyes of his conveniently hidden; he must have regained his composure, then.

it takes a couple seconds for his words to sink in — but once they do, all pieces seem to fall into place. 

and you burst into laughter.

gojo blinks at you, caught off guard, his eyelashes flapping like a little dove scrambling to get off the ground — staring at you like you just grew a second head. that makes you laugh harder, a bout of giggles spilling past your lips — you just can’t help it. 

”did —” you wheeze, softly, thoroughly amused. trying and failing to bite back the laughter. ”did you think i was bothered by that, or something?”

gojo looks at you. a little stunned, for a moment. the sight only makes your smile bloom further, eyes crinkled as you meet his gaze. from the angle you’re viewing him through, leaning back against the bench, you catch a glimmer of his eyes. they’re awfully pretty — blue and bright, full of life. when you look closer, you can see tiny, tiny splotches of white. 

they look like the blue sky. 

you called them menacing, before, but now you aren’t so sure. they seem soft, in the sunlight, especially when seen like this — right after catching him off guard. it’s a rare moment, terribly precious. something to savour.

gojo doesn’t let it linger, though. 

after a moment of two, he scoffs — turning away yet again. a soft, soft pout on his lips.

”obviously not,” he huffs, sounding nothing but irritated, resting his jaw on the heel of his palm. ”but with how sensitive you are, i wouldn’t be surprised.”

usually, a comment like that would irk you. now it just makes you giggle, lightheartedly — the tips of his ears turning redder at the sound. 

(he really isn’t so bad, after all.)

for a while, you don’t say anything else. afraid of ruining the tender atmosphere. you feel closer to gojo than ever before — and you wonder if maybe this is the gojo that geto sees. childish, but well meaning. arrogant and cocky, but oddly innocent. selfish — but not really. you’re starting to think that you may have been slightly off, with that one.

the strawberry milk on your tongue tastes sweet. a little sweeter than usual, though you choose not to dwell on it.

”hey,” you break the silence, surprising even yourself. the words fall from your lips like soft little breaths, rolling off your tongue like marbles pouring out of a glass bottle. ”i don’t dislike you, you know?”

it’s an impulsive admission. saying it out loud doesn’t feel wrong, though. maybe a little humiliating, sure, but not wrong. not dishonest.

you suspect that gojo may be looking at you, out of the corner of his eye, but you aren’t sure. after all, you’re vehemently avoiding his gaze — a little embarrassed by your own sincerity. 

he doesn’t know how to respond. you’re being strangely unpredictable, today, and it makes him feel unsure of himself. your tone is soft, almost friendly. he only ever hears it when you’re talking to shoko or geto.

not learning his lesson, gojo opts to tease you again. as always. afraid to let the silence linger for too long. it’s a halfhearted attempt, though, more of a vaguely amused huff than anything. 

”what, got a crush on me or somethin’?”

this time, you don’t scoff, or roll your eyes, or give him an earnest fuck right off. you only chuckle, in a way that almost borders on fond. you’re not one to tease, contrary to the boy on your left, but your words are teasing even still. ”i have better taste than that.” 

gojo should be irked, should grumble and bite back, but you don’t give him the chance to. 

”i just… you know,” you taste the words on your tongue. ”i still think you’re annoying. and childish.” gojo huffs, and your lips curl up. ”but i really don’t dislike you.”

you take a sip of the strawberry milk, before continuing, hoping it’ll make the words easier to say. ”… and it’s not like i know you, anyway. so i’m sorry for making a bunch of assumptions.” 

a pause. for a split second, you quiet down, a little flustered. gnawing on your bottom lip.

”… that’s all i wanted to say,” you exhale, gaze glued to your lap. feeling a heat on your nape.

as always, you can’t tell what gojo’s thinking. out of the corner of your eye, you try to catch a glimpse of his face, but you have a nagging suspicion that it wouldn’t tell you anything anyway. his eyes are hidden by those sunglasses, after all, acting as a wall between him and the rest of the world. so you don’t know if the words reach him, if they mean anything at all. 

but you hope they do. even as you brush cherry petals and non-existent dust off your lap, and get up to leave.

gojo just sits there, for a second, deep in contemplation. 

he tries to bury a certain thought, before it has a chance to reach his frontal cortex — before he has to accept that it exists. only this time, he doesn’t succeed. the words die before they reach his tongue, but he hears them, in his head. he hears them loud and clear.

and he flushes under the light of the sun.

(i don’t really dislike you, either.) 

what actually ends up leaving his throat is merely a scoff, so faint he doubts you even hear it. 

”whatever,” he mutters, hoping it’ll come across as cool and unbothered. it doesn’t.

one last smile reaches your face, before you head back inside. gojo stays behind, on the bench, lost in thought.

tossing the now-empty carton into a trash can, you try to calm yourself down. feeling oddly excited, as if you’ve reached something, the start of an eventual conclusion. something worth cherishing.

you still don’t understand satoru gojo. but you get the impression that you just grew a little bit closer to him. there are layers to him, more than what meets the eye, hidden behind those sunglasses of his. you can only imagine what the world might look like, from his perspective. what you look like, reflected in his eyes, a blur of colours and facial features, sparks and dots.

you wonder if the whole world looks like a painting, to him. 

you feel a little ashamed, for thinking you had him all figured out. a spoiled, self-centered rich kid, with no functional empathic abilities. it might be partially true, but you’ll have to reevaluate the statement. to see how well it holds up. you still don’t think his emotional intelligence is anything to gawk at, but you may have been underestimating it. it’s there, despite everything — in those eyes, in that single carton of strawberry milk.

you think there’s a certain maturity, there, in spite of his childishness. or perhaps the latter is no more than a product of the former, a way for damaged children to dress their wounds. the way he carries himself and the way he speaks both seem a bit forced. like he’s used to performing, used to moving in a way that demands attention. all eyes on him, at all times. 

you think that sounds just a little exhausting. 

even as you return to the safety of your dorm room, you still can’t help but wonder. there’s still so much you don’t know. despite the moment you shared, and the connection you think may be growing between you, he’s still so out of reach. almost lonely, in a way. you wonder what he looks like, when he’s alone, when there’s no one around to perform for. 

(what is an actor without their audience?)

and, despite everything, after all is said and done — you really, really don’t understand satoru gojo. not at all, not in the slightest. not one bit.

but you think you’d maybe like to.

[billybutcherrtrash]

Dress

I suppose it’s my destiny to write about inanimate objects. First a chair, now a dress.

CW: sexy times. MDNI. (18+)

As usual, I didn’t proofread it. 🤷🏻‍♀️

You and Spencer attend a wedding and your dress is quite a distraction.

You’d been Reid’s ride or die since day one. You’d both been young when you joined the BAU and instantly became the tamer version of Morgan and Garcia. You’d bonded over your mutual nerdy interests. The two of you watched Doctor Who and Star Wars. Your brilliance nearly matched his. He secretly loved when you challenged or questioned him during cases. He’d often call you when he needed to be talked off a ledge during a panic attack, even if it was 2:37 in the morning. It wasn’t unheard of for you two to room together when working a case. No one had ever batted an eyelash or gave it a second thought. Neither of you had really ever considered the other anything but a friend. Until of course the day you noticed him staring at you longer than he should have. The day you noticed the way he licked his lips when he was listening to you speak. The day you noticed how perfect his hands were. The day you realized you were day dreaming about his hands in places they definitely shouldn’t be. That’s when you knew you were doomed. You’d crossed a line in your head you thought you’d never cross. Now every time you were near him and he touched you in the most innocent of ways it was like a jolt to your system. The way he brushed his hand across your lower back when he passed you or when his hand grazed yours as he sat beside you on the jet. Thank God no one had noticed the way you would sneak glances at him when you knew no one was looking. You were doomed now. The risk of rejection or worse, he might actually feel the same. Only one way to find out…

Penelope had agreed to go dress shopping with you for a certain someone’s upcoming wedding. For whatever reason none of the dresses you owned seemed to meet the criteria you’d made up in your head. It was a wedding, of course they were nice enough but…not for what you had in mind.

“This one!” Penelope announced, holding up a floor length black dress.

“P, do you really think I’d look good in this?”

“Are you kidding? You’ll look stunning! Put it on!” Penelope said, ushering you into the dressing room.

You reluctantly slipped into it, unsure of how you felt about it. There was a slit running up the side that you hadn’t noticed before. It was a rather low cut for your usual taste but you couldn’t deny your breasts look great in it. You felt a bit exposed as you stepped out of the dressing room. Penelope’s jaw dropped.

“Yes! Yes! It’s perfect!” She clapped, “Oh, he’s not going to be able to keep his eye off you!”

“He?” You asked, confused.

“Babe, I have eyes. You and Reid have been playing googley eyes for months. And this, my dear, is a “fuck me” dress if I have ever seen one.”

“Wait what?” You froze.

“I’m not a profiler, but it doesn’t take a genius to see you two probably can’t share a hotel room platonically anymore.” She laughed. “And this dress will guarantee that.”

You couldn’t tell if you were mortified or relieved she’d noticed.

“You said he was making googly eyes…?”

“That man clings to every word you say. And if you don’t end up in his bed after wearing this, I don’t know what it will take.” Penelope said.

“Fine…this is the dress.” You agreed.

……

Reid was standing with Morgan when you arrived. Morgan nudged his arm, his head nodding in your direction. Reid turned and you could see his jaw drop. The look on his face didn’t get past Morgan.

“You gonna pick up your jaw off the floor, pretty boy?” He smirked.

Reid faltered to a moment before gaining his composure. He tried his best not to make it obvious that he was having a certain reaction to the dress.

“You look…” Morgan paused, nodding at you.

“Stunning.” Reid finished for him.

You blushed and smiled, “Thank you, boys. You both look handsome as ever.”

Reid couldn’t help but notice the heels you were wearing, making you several inches taller. He honestly couldn’t recall you ever wearing heels. Before he could comment, Penelope arrived to usher everyone to their seats.

“Alright, my darlings! It’s almost time! Let’s go!” She announced, grabbing your hand and leading you inside the chapel.

You found the rest of the team and settled into your seats. You could feel Reid’s eyes on you through out the ceremony. You’d casually glance at him, meeting his gaze. Penelope nudged you to bring your focus back to the nuptials in front of you. It was hard for Reid to concentrate when all he could think of was how you looked in that dress. Finally the ceremony ended and you made your way to the reception.

“He was staring the whole time.” Penelope smirked.

“Yeah, I’m aware.” You nodded, taking a glass of champagne.

“What’s your plan?”

“Plan? I don’t have a plan.” You shook your head.

“I doubt you’ll need one, but you need to talk to him. Drop subtle hints.”

“Was the dress not enough?”

“Oh, it definitely is. But can’t hurt to fuel the fire.”

“Ladies.” Morgan said, “I hate to interrupt, but I think it’s time for this lovey lady and I to dance.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Penelope smiled, taking his arm and leaving you alone.

You took a sip of your champagne as Reid approached. The butterflies had turned into pterodactyls now.

“Hi, Spence.” You said a little too shyly.

It didn’t go unnoticed by him. He could read you like a book…and just a quickly. After all these years he knew every tell you had. He could see you were avoiding direct eye contact, looking toward him but not directly at him.

“You look nice.” Reid smiled, “That dress fits you well.”

You let out a jagged breath, “Thank you, P picked it out.”

“She has good taste.” He licked his lips, his eyes dragging over you.

“She does. She also made me wear these heels”. You laughed softly.

“Well, they’re also very nice.” Reid said glancing down at them.

“They’re pretty but they are killing me”. You admitted.

You felt his hand on lower your back, causing you to look up at him. Your breathing increased as your eyes met his.

“You okay?” Reid asked.

“Yeah, why?” You nodded.

“You’ve been quiet tonight.”

“Oh, have I?”

“A little. It’s not like you.”

“It’s a wedding. Not much to talk about aside from how beautiful the bride is and how in love the happily couple are.”

“Or how good the cake is.” He laughed.

“Or how drunk the bridesmaids are getting over in the corner.” You gestured toward the scene to your left.

Spencer nodded, “They’re going to have a great night.”

You took another sip of your champagne, finally feeling your nerves settle. That didn’t change the fact you weren’t sure if you could actually go through with whatever it was you thought was going to happen.

After a few more drinks, guests started dissipating.

“I’ll walk you home.” Reid said.

“Walk? Not in these heels, Spence.” You shook your head.

“Okay, have a seat and I will take them off.”

You couldn’t help but smile, doing what he asked. Reid knelt before you and unbuckled the strap. His eyes wandered a little higher, following the slit of your dress up your leg. His hand ran over your calf gently as the other slipped your shoes from your feet. You gasped softly. God, he was going to make you crazy. Once both offending shoes were removed, you stood up.

“Omg, freedom.” You laughed.

You said your goodbyes and congratulations before making your exit. Once on the sidewalk, Spencer turned his back to you and gestured for you to jump.

“What?” You asked.

“Piggyback ride. C’mon.” He said.

“Seriously?”

“Yes! Jump, I can’t have you walking on these streets.”

“Reid, you can’t be serious.”

“I’m so serious. C’mon.”

Reluctantly, you jumped onto his back, arms around his shoulders, legs on his hips. You laughed softly at how ridiculous this way.

“It’s like 5 blocks, Spence.” You said.

“It’s fine. I promise.” He replied, beginning the trek.

“You’re being entirely too nice. I don’t deserve you.”

“Of course you do.”

The two of you made more small talk until you reached your building. He set you down on the stairs.

“Well…thank you for this…it’s been a nice night.” You said softly.

“I’ll walk you up.”

“You don’t have to. Five blocks is more than enough.”

“Don’t be silly.”

With that you put your key in the door to the building and made your way to your apartment.

“Do you want to come in?” You asked after opening the door.

“Yeah.” He nodded nonchalantly.

Your heart was in your throat now. It was definitely the right moment. But how were you going to pull this off? You turned to face him, prepared to just say it but he spoke first.

“Can I say something?” He asked.

“Of course.”

“If I’m being honest…that dress is going to be the death of me, Y/N.” He bit his lip.

“Oh…”

“I haven’t been able to focus on anything but you all night.” He stepped closer to you. “This dress is just…making it hard to believe I have an IQ of 187.”

“My turn to be honest…I only bought this dress so you could take it off.”

And just like that, Spencer’s lips were on yours, his hands were in your hair and there was no going back. Your hands undid his tie and you tossed it aside. He pulled his suit jacket off and it fell to the floor. Next you went to work on his shirt, unbuttoning and adding it to the growing pile of discarded clothing. It took every ounce of sanity he had to pull away and take your hand leading you to your room. A room he’d slept in several times, but never had he considered doing this. He sat on the edge of the bed gazing up at you. For a moment you weren’t sure what to do. But there was only one thing to do. You reached for the single clasp that held your dress on and undid it. Spencer watched as it fell to the floor. He licked his lips and took in the sight of you. For all the years he known you, this was never something he thought he’d see. You thought you’d be embarrassed but the way he was looking at you only made you feel wanted and desired. Spencer took your hand and pulled you into his lap. You straddled his lap and were now inches away from him. He kissed you gently, more calmly than he had before.

“Spence, at some point… you’re gonna have to…take off your pants too.” You said between kisses.

“Someone’s impatient.” He replied.

“No, just seems…unfair.”

His lips moved to your neck, “You tortured me with that dress all night, that was unfair.”

You ran your hand through his hair, tugging gently. “Please?”

“Now you’re begging?” He smirked.

“Absolutely not. Just asking politely.”

He looked at you and sighed, “Fine. Lay down.”

You moved off his lap to the middle of your bed, leaning back on your pillows. Reid stood up and casually undid his belt, unbuttoned his pants and let them fall to the carpet. You bit your lip as he climbed back in the bed and moved on top of you.

“You look like you might like what you see.” He smirked.

“Very much.” You nodded.

“Actually, one more thing.” He said getting back up.

“Spence!” You whined.

“We need a condom.”

“I don’t have any.” You replied.

“Don’t worry. One of us is responsible.” Spencer teased.

He grabbed his wallet from his pants and pulled out two condoms, setting them on the dresser next to the bed.

“Two?” You raised eyebrow. “Someone’s optimistic.”

He climbed back on the bed and hovered above you. “No, just prepared.”

You watched as his hand slid up your thighs, slowly slipping his fingers under your underwear and pulling them down. You didn’t say a word, realization setting in that this was happening. You barely noticed he’d taken off his and was reaching for the condoms. You swallowed as the butterflies returning to your stomach. You felt anxious as he slid back over you.

“You got quiet…you okay?” He asked.

“Yeah…just nervous.”

“We don’t have to do this.”

“No, Spence, I want to. I really, really do.” You said. “More than anything.”

“Anything?” He laughed softly. “Wow, I’m honored you’re choosing me over anything else.”

He leaned in to kiss you, settling between your legs. It didn’t take long for things to become more heated, more desperate.

“Tell me when.” Reid murmured.

“Now.” was all you could say, needing him desperately.

“Tell me if you feel uncomfortable. Promise me.” He said.

“I promise”. You nodded.

His lips crash into yours and you felt him push into you. You moaned into the kiss. God, it felt amazing the way he stretched your walls to accommodate him. Every second felt like forever as you waited for him to move again. You knew he was trying to be gentle but you needed him desperately.

“Spence, please, you’re not gonna break me.” You begged softly.

Whatever restraint he’d been holding back snapped and he thrust into you causing you to yelp. He was so deep and you only wanted it more. His lips moved to your neck, kissing and sucking gently as you took every thrust.

“Just like that…fuck, Spence!” You panted.

He reached up and cubbed your breast, squeezing it gently.

“You feel fucking amazing.” He groaned against your neck.

“Don’t stop, please, please…”

“I’m not, I’ll get you there”. Spencer promised. “I got you.”

He kissed you again, more feverishly. Your hand tangled in his hair, tugging gently. Spencer hissed, his tongue running over your bottom lip. He reached down and pulled your leg up higher on his hip allowing him to sink deeper into you. Your headboard hit the wall above you with the force of his movements, causing you both to look up.

“It’s fine.” You said, biting your lip.

You could feel yourself getting close. That’s familiar ache was rising inside you.

“Close…”

Spencer’s eyes widened for moment at your words. He nodded and slid his hand for down your side and between you. Your heart rate skyrocketed as he ran his fingers over your clit. He felt you fluttering around him as he worked you to your climax. Your legs were shaking when you finally reached it. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, only spurring him on to pick up his thrusts. Your nails raked down his back, riding out your high. It was only moments later his hips faltered and he came hard, burying his face against your neck as he collapsed over you. You lay quiet, trying to catch your breath, your fingers stroking his shoulder. Finally he lifted his head and kissed you gently.

“You okay?” You asked.

“I think so.“ Spencer answered, slipping out of you.

You quietly mourned the loss of him as he climbed out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. You heard the shower turn on, and him poke his head out.

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up.” He winked at you.

You didn’t need to be told twice, climbing out of bed and hurrying to join him.

[meo-eiru]

This is like self projecting but what if darling drew weird ass drawings of the yandere boys? Or just badly drawn portraits of them. And darling shows it to everyone proudly!! How would they react? (Lavi, silas, elias)

I have a really weird urge to make something out of this meme.

This is so cursed oh my dear god😭

Silas would just assume you’re some sort of artistic genius beyond his comprehension and he’s probably failing at following your artistic vision but he doesn’t want to be a bad mom and kill his kid’s courage so he’d say it’s the most beautiful thing he has ever seen and hang it on a wall

Elias would be pretty stunned at first. His thought process would be like:

what the hell is this > does it look cursed or do I just not understand art > oh god what if this is some new trend like.. what was it? Reney…renaissance…? O-oh no I have no idea > I can’t let them understand I’m lost > they’ll think I’m an idiot who doesn’t understand anything about art

“It’s… It’s beautiful darling… very demure… yeah” (he doesn’t know what demure means)

Lavi would say “OMG what’s this weird looking thing” to your face and if you try giving it to him he’ll say “Haha humans really are so weird but it’s ok I’ll love what you give me even if it looks ugly”. He’ll probably just think you’re too poor to give him good gifts so he thinks he’s being a good person accepting the ugly thing you gave him instead of “embarrassing you”. But he does keep everything you give him no matter how ugly it is (in his opinion), he even puts some of them under his pillow

[politicalprof]

On the election:

Thoughts? Sure. Lots of them:

--I have said from the beginning that this is a turnout election. Get me 2016 levels of turnout and Trump could well win. Get me 2020 levels of turnout and Harris would probably win. 2024's turnout is much closer to 2016 than 2020, so the electorate was whiter, more male, and older in 2024 than 2020. The people Harris needed to vote, didn't. Thus Trump won all or most of the swing states, and won the popular vote -- the first Republican to do so since 2004. (This is why I was a not a poll watcher: percentages in a poll do not translate directly into actual voting; in a turnout election actual voting is what matters.)

--I used to ask my classes, "will we have a Black president or a female president first? (Yes, I acknowledged the obvious "Black female" hole in that question.) The Black question was answered in 2008; we now have a further answer in that a candidate of the nature of Donald Trump has beaten two immensely qualified female candidates, one white and one woman of color -- both in low turnout elections. Apparently, America really, really, doesn't want a female president.

--Dobbs didn't matter, at least not as predicted. Women didn't "vote Harris" despite all claims they would do so, at least not at the predicted rates.

--Demography is not destiny. The Latino vote has moved toward Trump in three successive elections. I'd guess this is *because* of his anti-immigrant stances, not despite them: pulling up the ladder after you "make it" is an old part of American political life.

--[edit/added]: it's a global "throw the bums out" cycle. People are pissed for lots of reasons, and fairly or not, the "in power" people are feeling the pain. Such is the nature of political timing.

--The urban/rural split is a hell of a thing in American politics, and it's only going to get more intense over time as rural areas continue to empty but still get two Senators forever and ever and ever.

--There are a LOT of people who don't think of politics in either ideological or governance terms. They're not interested in whether a candidate means what he says or is capable of achieving the ends being promised. Rather, politics for these people is *entertainment.* What matters is the show. The "right" people need to be publicly valorized; the "wrong" people need to be attacked, humiliated, and hounded out of the public square. It's bread and circuses. As long as the entertainment continues they'll put up with the regime whatever it is doing to them in the background.

--Donald Trump remains the greatest politician in American history at dominating the news cycle, and thus feeding the entertainment machine. Every crazy, cruel, cantankerous thing he says gets re-amplified over and over again, driving everything else out of the political ecosystem. It's evil. But it's genius.

--I have long said that Donald Trump will never pay a meaningful price for his crimes, his corruption, and his cruelty. He will die in a golden bed surrounded by a harem of women and teams of acolytes singing his praises. It's not fair. But it's almost certainly true.

--A brief note on tariffs: when America relied on tariffs, the government was much smaller than it is now (meaning it needed less money to operate), and US economy activity was mostly concentrated in the US (meaning that it was hard for other countries to put retaliatory tariffs on US products). Neither of these things are true today. So, good luck with that.

I'm sure there's more. But that's a start.

[earthtooz]

x : AVOIDANCE :*+ﾟ

in which: falling for blade was not on your agenda, so naturally you decide to distance yourself. however, the last thing you'd predicted was blade being upset with the sudden space.

warnings: 2.3k wc, FLUFF, ooc!blade probably bc i'm still trying to figure it out, kafka meddles with the two of you, gn!stellaron hunter!reader who has a past lol, NOT PROOFREAD, idiots in love bc i love that trope, bad writing

a/n: thank you to the anon who gave me this idea :D much appreciated, i had a lot of fun with this one when my angstier fics were draining me af. i hope you enjoy, apologies if it's a little low quality, but it's my child &lt;3

when you first joined the team of stellaron hunters, you didn’t expect to get much out of it, especially since the team looked so cold, calculating, mischievous, and unforgiving, greeting you with vicious smiles and muddy eyes. preemptively, you assumed the most you would receive is acquaintanceship.

however, time has proven you wrong, because on the contrary, you have found comfort, friendship, and stability in the form of this mismatched group.

you never expected to find love either.

but you did, and it might be the worst decision your heart has ever made.

“y/n, there you are. kafka and i are thinking about going out to lunch. want to join?” silver wolf’s voice interrupts your train of thought, disrupting your peace in your private spot amongst the gardens.

“oh, hi silver wolf,” you murmur, shutting your book after shoving in a bookmark. “who else is going?”

“kafka asked blade and he agreed.”

the genius hacker doesn’t notice the way you tense upon hearing a certain swordman’s name. instead, you play it cool by opening up your book again, scanning the pages in hopes of ignoring the racing of your heart.

“i think i’ll pass on this one. thank you though,” you mutter.

“really?” the silver-haired asks, popping her gum before shrugging. “whatever you say. i’m off!”

“bye!”

hearing her footsteps fade, you slump in your seat, your memories with blade hauntingly eminent in your mind. you don’t recall when you fell for him, or why exactly, all you have in your recollection is a series of moments that you look back fondly upon with a full heart, love slowly seeping in to you and causing your affections to grow to the size that they reside at now.

when you had realised, the love had already grown too big to deflate, and dejection struck moments after; a big bang of butterflies in your stomach that all disintegrated straight after.

how brutal- perhaps this was an indication that blade was rubbing off on you too much, and you need to cleanse yourself of his influence.

love, although fickle, was not something that you avidly rejected. despite having lived like a hunted deer, your experiences have been fleeting, building your delicate heart for a life of meeting, falling, then leaving when you least wanted to, needing to run before an arrow pierced you- and certainly not cupid’s one. 

but with blade, everything is different. there is no arrow to run from, not in the life that elio has foreseen for you. for the first time in your life, you can stop running away and try fall into the arms of love with little remorse.

it's just ironic that you fall into the arms of a man who should not be touched.

“y/n’s not coming with us today,” silver wolf reports after meeting up with the other two stellaron hunters.

“oh?” kafka hums, “usually y/n’s always willing to hangout, why’s that?”

“busy or something, i don’t know, i didn’t care to ask.”

the slight scrunch of displeasure in blade’s expression passes by the keen eyes of both kafka and silver wolf. if either of them had noticed then perhaps it would have been a topic of interest, but for the time being, the pair move on (faster than the third member), your unusual absence dismissed in favour of where to get food.

as the days turn into nights and elio issues more missions and mumbles more futures, blade feels as though he sees you less and less.

it’s not intuition more than it is you purposefully ignoring and evading blade in your everyday, though.

“good morning,” kafka’s voice greets when she walks in to the cafeteria, where you were eating breakfast alone. setting down your phone, you regard her with a mouth full of bread. “gross. at least swallow first.”

“screw off,” you murmur. “how did you sleep?”

“fine fine, i woke up in the wrong position though and my neck is killing me, but what about you? seems like you’ve been up a while.”

“i’ve been up since asscrack of dawn.” 

the purple-haired regards you with amusement. “why’s that?”

“body clock or whatever,” you lie, staring down at your glass of water.

“i see,” kafka hums half-heartedly, as if seeing right through you. “well, i’m going to get some coffee, i’ll be right back.”

“mk.”

you’re left on your own for only a few minutes, waiting patiently in silence for kafka to return. the morning is cool and pleasant, and the smell of rain is still heavy in the air as the morning dew lightens the atmosphere. the weather will surely get hotter as the day matures, but for now, you enjoy the gentle caress of sunlight on your back.

or rather- you were enjoying the gentle caress of the sun, but the methodicalness of it all is ruined when you spot a certain figure with dark, long hair beside kafka.

suddenly the last thing you know is peace and calm, and the abrupt, painful scraping of your chair against the floor symbolises that.

“going somewhere?” kafka asks.

picking up your scraps, you avoid blade’s gaze. “yeah! i- uh, realised that i have some documents to drop off for elio by twelve or whatever.”

“won't you stay to keep us company for breakfast,” the purple-haired tempts, “it feels like it’s been so long since we’ve spent some proper time together.”

“has it?” you laugh nervously and kafka easily picks up the pitchiness of your tone. “i’ll make it up soon, i promise, i’ve just been overflowed with things to do.”

“alright. you be off then. don’t work too hard.”

“i won’t. my head is remaining tight on my shoulders, don’t you worry!” you reassure before scrambling away, feeling like your legs could not be any slower as you retreat away from blade’s scrutinising gaze. when you round the corner, you sigh a breath of relief. 

it’s laughable and simultaneously admirable how dedicated you are about dodging every interaction possible, but for the record, you think you’re doing quite well. not that space was doing many favours for your heart, but persistence is key. 

whoever believed that distance makes the heart grow fonder just clearly didn’t try enough, because yours feels like it’s about to hammer out of your chest with how fast it is racing, and the sensation is equivalent to something like pain rather than fondness.

“i’m worried,” blade mutters, gaze lingering on where you’d just disappeared. “and why does y/n talk like i’m not right here?”

“aww, are you upset?” coos kafka, taking a seat. the swordsman mimics her.

“why wouldn’t i be? it feels like y/n has been ignoring me as of late.”

kafka hums thoughtfully, swirling her coffee cup around.

“do you know anything about that?”

“nup. nothing at all,” she answers, feigning ignorance to the many suspicions that are bubbling around in her mind. the last thing kafka is, is blind, your unusual behaviour has not bypassed her perceptive eye at all, but she believes she has uncovered the reasoning as to why; said reasoning being a certain swordsman.

the revelation is definitely interesting, and she might just be able to give the push you both need.

“y’know what, bladie? if it concerns you that much, i’d say you go check up on y/n later,” kafka suggests.

“why not you?”

“i’ll be busy, but i think some support in dire times is just what y/n needs.”

“okay. fine.”

when blade gathers the courage to check up on you, like kafka recommended, the time is nearing 5pm. the sun is beginning to cool, the animals are retreating into their nests, and the big, bad, intimidating stellaron hunter is roaming around the archives, where you’re situated to work, hoping to locate you.

it takes a few laps around to finally find your placement because you’re fast asleep, only identifiable to blade by the jacket you hung on the back of your chair.

the sight of you hunched over your desk over a multitude of forms and papers causes a wave of concern (however much he can feel) to wash over blade, and suddenly, he does something completely foreign to him: dote over someone.

gently lifting your jacket to cover your shoulders, he stills when you shift a little, your eyebrows furrowing in your sleep. deciding to leave you alone, all blade spares is one lasting look at your vulnerability before leaving. 

he wonders what it is that could be making you so frustrated. 

(if only he knew). 

a few days later, kafka confronts you about the suspicions that’s been creeping to the forefront of her mind.

“did you do something to piss a certain bladie off?” 

kafka’s saccharine voice is laced with mischief as she leans towards you, chin resting on the palm of her hand. she certainly does not miss the way you tense up at the mention of the swordsman’s name and her smirk widens when you shuffle away, subconsciously turning away, as if avoiding the subject.

“i can’t think of why i would have,” you murmur, crossing your arms. “why?”

“oh, nothing, he’s just been complaining and crying a lot recently.”

“he does that all the time.”

“so he does,” your fellow stellaron hunter hums. “except he’s mentioning your name a lot more nowadays.” 

you freeze. “what?”

“hm? did i say something peculiar?”

inhaling a deep breath, you steady yourself. you know what kafka wants out of you and you’re not going to give it to her despite how innocent and pretty she spins the web to look. after all these years together, you hope to have learnt a thing or two about how to avoid her snare.

“what is blade saying about me?” you quiz. 

she blinks at you. “why so curious if you haven’t done anything?” 

“can i not ask about something that involves my name? besides, he’s my friend, i want to know what he’s saying,” you lean against the back of the couch, trying to calm the involuntary shake in your legs. you despise that the slightest mention of blade can cause a bottomless pit to form in your stomach and it’s not because of how intimidating or threatening he is. 

no, it’s because you’ve fallen for him, hook, line, and centre.

and blade would have to die before you ever tell him.

“mostly just grumbles about wondering where you are,” kafka expands, waving her hands about to match her words. “he asked silver wolf and i if you’ve been talking to us and when we said ‘yes’, he looked pissed! when i asked why he was being a sourpuss, he just stormed off.”

“so temperamental, that man,” she sighs. then, she looks back at you with those half-lidded eyes that have always gotten her what she wants, and in this case, they’re answers. “so tell me, y/n, what did you do to our bladie to have him all riled up like this?”

“nothing. absolutely nothing.”

“are you sure?”

“positive.”

“positive?”

you avoid her curious gaze. “positive.”

“maybe i phrased the question wrong. has bladie done something to you instead?”

panic settles within you. “no,” you lie through your teeth. “he hasn’t.”

“so if i asked you why you left breakfast so abruptly that day, you wouldn’t say that it’s because of him?”

“i had work to do, kafka, you know how busy my job gets.”

“i know, i know,” she persists, “then why weren’t you in a hurry before blade arrived that morning?”

you don’t know how to refute that, letting silence speak volumes instead.

“and why did you skip out on lunch with silver wolf and i? was it because we also invited a certain someone?”

“okay! fine, you’ve got me. what do you want to know?” you explode, tossing your phone on the couch in frustration. 

“so it is about blade?” questions your coworker.

“yeah. it is.”

“what about him? did he do something to hurt you? you know he’s accidentally mean sometimes-”

“it’s not that, he’s nothing but a sweetheart.”

“so what’s the problem?”

“that is the problem! he’s just… he’s him.”

“is that bad?”

“for my heart, yes.”

“oh my- so you like him?”

you exhale exasperatedly, “don’t act like you haven’t already figured that out, kafka.”

the cheshire smile she then flashes sends shivers down your spine. for whatever reason, an oppressive feeling grows in your gut, resembling something like a warning.

“you’re right, i knew,” she flaunts. then, her gaze cuts to look behind you. “but i don’t think blade did.”

your heart lurches out of your chest with enough force to pull you off the couch and you stumble around to see that, lo and behold, blade was indeed standing in the hallway. the expression he wears tells you enough; he heard you, he knows.

kafka somehow sneaks her way out of the room, leaving you alone to deal with the face of rejection. it’s daunting being in the same space as him after so long, you almost forgot about the intimidating pressure that blade naturally exudes and projects in every space he enters.

“hi,” you start, looking away. 

he stalks over to you, footsteps soundless before stopping a feet in front of you. instead of saying something, the swordsman merely gazes down at you whilst you keep your eyes glued to the side.

“can you reject me already? the silence is kinda killing me,” you snap after a few seconds, crossing your arms protectively. 

instead of obeying to your request, blade does something completely unexpected; he very gently lifts your chin with his hand, and red eyes bore right into yours. is it odd to feel seen in your demise? because blade is looking- no, surveying you with such immense focus and clarity that your heart stills, frozen in position because it wants him to see the most picturesque part of you. 

(he sees it, but he wants to know more of you. the pretty, the ugly, the likeable, and the unwanted.)

“would you like to go on a date?” he asks.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.