#she snapped at me for no reason and I know this is stupid

[beka-tiddalik]

I pause mid-leap, which is to say that I drop to the ground in front of the target. The mage.

I shake my head, as though trying to rid my ears of water, but the problem is not being unable to use my senses.

For the first time in what feels like ages, my mind is open, rather than forced into the coerced tunnel vision of the target the Target thetargetTHETARGET!

The sensory explosion of other scents and sounds, of the sweat soaked into my own clothes from days of hard running and sleeping rough, to the harsh panting of the mage, and my own heart, thudding rabbit-fast.

I am still holding my dagger. I look at it. It has been my only consistent possession since I was born. The grip is worn perfectly to fit my left hand. The pommel is riverrock smooth from years of nervous polishing. For many long years I was told it was the only useful part of me. The only part worth maintaining.

The blade is sharp.

I smile.

I look up, and the mage still has their hands up. Ready.

"Don't do anything stupid," the mage says.

I laugh.

"Thanks," I say.

And then I plunge the dagger straight into the cobblestones, snapping it in half.

The mage blinks.

"What?"

I rock back onto my heels, placing my palms on my knees.

"You broke my curse! I didn't even know that was possible! You have my eternal gratitude!" I bow.

The mage blinks. "Seriously? Oh. Ooooh." Somehow they suddenly look both more relaxed and more on edge at this news.

"Wait so, you're a-"

"Not anymore!" I chirp. "Or at least not for Them." The endorphin rush of being free to choose suddenly threatens to tip into panic.

With my purpose for existence removed, what should I do?

My contractor is going to be so upset. She's definitely the kind of person who will take this personally.

The mage has granted my dearest most desperate wish, and in doing so they've just become a much higher priority target. Especially if that dispel wasn't a fluke.

I have no idea what expression my face is showing but somehow the mage looks more alarmed than when I was trying to stab them.

"You need a bodyguard," I say.

"What?"

I smile.

"Don't worry, I'm really good at violence."

For some reason the mage doesn't seem to find this reassuring.

Trained from birth as an assassin, your mind was bound by a powerful control spell. Sent to kill an archmage, they cast Dispel to weaken you—accidentally freeing your mind instead. For the first time, your dagger points wherever you choose.

[bluemantics]

ficlet giveaway prize for @yuutsunaoi of klance "struggling to adjust with their new roles as the red and black paladin." i hope you enjoy!

Shiro was gone, and everything was going incredibly wrong.

"Pidge, go to sleep."

"I can find him."

"I'm serious. You need to sleep."

"You can't tell me what to do, Keith, you're not my mom."

"We need you well-rested for Voltron, and I'm the Black Paladin--"

"Isn't he your brother? Do you even want him back?"

Lance groaned, pinching his nose as he leaned against the wall. He had positioned himself just outside the Castleship's living room after he saw Keith go in, worried that the temperamental fighter would offend their youngest teammate. Lo and behold, it hadn't even taken two minutes before the two started to clash.

While Lance could appreciate how they normally melded, he knew that Shiro's... vanishing would trigger fight-or-flight responses in both of them. Honestly, it was a miracle that Keith hadn't spirited off to some random planet on a panic-induced sabbatical. Or maybe the true miracle was that Pidge hadn't ripped Keith's face off, he wondered, as he walked through the door and took in the scene before him.

Pidge had jumped on top of the couch, face contorted in anger, hands balled at her sides. Her computer was lying forgotten beside her feet. Facing her, Keith was entirely red, thick eyebrows pulled down in distinct rage. At least, that was what he wanted Pidge to think.

It was easy for Lance to note the glimmer of hurt in his eyes. Yeah, that comment about Shiro had definitely landed.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Lance called out, raising his arms. Instantly, both heads whipped to face him, expressions unchanged. "Let's back it up, guys."

Keith straightened up and crossed his arms. "It's fine. Pidge just needs to listen."

"I swear to god," Pidge seethed, "I will tear your stupid hair off your stupid head."

Okay, Lance was always in support of a hair insult when it came to Keith, but he had to stop this.

"No one is ripping anyone's hair. Pidge, I admire what you're doing here. Really, I do," Lance began, gesturing to the computer. "No one else on the team can sort through all the data you're collecting from the lion and the Galrans."

"I know. That's why I have to keep working," she snapped. Lance approached her slowly.

"Okay, but what if I told you that's the reason you need to slow down?"

"That makes no sense." Pidge looked curious, though, and a soft smile pulled at Lance's lips. He'd caught her on the hook easily. Unlike the others, Pidge couldn't be persuaded with placating words or niceties. No, what she needed was a little bit different.

"Logically, humans can't operate at capacity for 24 hours straight. We don't have the brainpower." He knocked on his own head to demonstrate, aware of Keith's eyes fixating on his every movement. Good. Maybe he could take something out of this. "Brains need time to breathe, Pidgey."

"I know that," she huffed, but her eyes softened slightly.

"So, if you know that, you know you're likely not an exception." Lance reached over to her computer and plucked it up, closed the lid, and held it out to her. His heart melted a little at her frown. Pidge was far too young to be losing her family and Shiro at the same time, much less being burdened with their rescues. "You'll find him. I know you will. But you're gonna make a mistake or miss something if you aren't in tip-top shape while you search."

Hesitantly, Pidge's hand darted forward to pull her computer to her chest. Hugging it to herself tightly, she looked between Lance and Keith, apprehensive yet seeming more open than before. Finally, she gave Lance a sharp nod. It wasn't long before she jumped down from her perch and stomped out of the room, the automatic doors swishing shut behind her. Keith let out a sound that sounded like a mix between a sigh of relief and a groan.

"I'm shit," he mumbled, wiping his hands down his face. A chuckle pulled out of Lance's throat.

"A little bit," Lance agreed, turning to face Keith with amusement clear on his face. His lighthearted mood died down, though, when Keith moved to sit on the couch, elbows braced against his knees as he slumped over. "Oh, hey, buddy."

"I can't do this, Lance."

"What? Force Pidge to sleep?" Lance quickly took a seat at Keith's right, crossing an ankle over his knee.

"All of it," Keith muttered. His deep eyes looked thoughtful and weary as they stared straight ahead, fixed on nothing. "People wanted to listen to Shiro. Sure, sometimes they'd disagree, but they eventually came around. They trusted him to know more. I trusted him."

"Hmm," Lance nodded, thinking back. Keith wasn't lying; following Shiro had been natural. He was older, experienced, and had a solid balance of intimidation and empathy. "So you don't feel like you've got that same respect as Black Paladin?" Keith let out a broken laugh, shaking his head.

"Why would they listen to me? I'm a mess. I didn't exactly hide that."

"No, that's not it," Lance pressed. "They just don't think you understand them."

"I don't. They're right."

"Well, you can try," Lance said, gears turning in his head quickly. "Tonight was a good example. Pidge is angry, kinda like you, about a lot of stuff, but especially about losing control. She feels like she's entirely out of control with the loss of Shiro and all the changes in our lions."

Keith was watching Lance, now, eyebrows raised at his explanation. Hopefully, that was an invitation to continue. "So, meet her where she is. Relate to her. Explain things how she'd want to hear it, not in the way you think Shiro would."

"I'm not good at that," Keith responded, shifting uncomfortably. His hands twitched where they rested. "You do that shit way better."

"Well, then, I guess I'll just have to help you. Which is literally my job, by the way." Lance's hand moved between the two of them as he spoke. "I can help you meet them where they are, help them feel seen. I'll show you their communication styles. I promise, it isn't as hard as it seems."

"Okay," Keith agreed, unsure but still affirmative.

"But you have to help me, too. This is a partnership."

"A partnership?" Keith snorted in disbelief. "You hate working with me off the battlefield. You called me stupid at least five times in the last month."

Lance scoffed, waving the notion away. "Well, I'm a mature adult, so I can put aside my qualms with you despite your tragically dramatic hangups." That drew an actual laugh from Keith, oddly enough, sparking little butterfly flaps in Lance's stomach. Weird.

"What do you need?" Keith asked through the slight upward tilt of his lips. Shaking his head, Lance snapped back to their conversation.

"Teach me to fight."

"Fight?" Keith tilted his head. "You're our sharpshooter, though. You shouldn't need to do hand-to-hand." While that acknowledgment pleased him, Lance rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but clearly I'm occupying some different shoes now." He shrugged. "I need to be ready to fill any gaps on the team, now, with one of our close-range guys out of the picture. Plus, I can't always expect that the battles won't come to me, even if you guys try to protect me."

Without pause, Keith sat up, leaning toward Lance. His eyes bore into Lance's with an intensity and fire expected out of the former Red Paladin. "You'll take it seriously?"

A pang struck Lance's gut. "Obviously. I'm insulted you'd ask."

"Fine, then. It's a deal."

"It's a partnership," Lance reminded him, elbowing his side. A grunt of affirmation sounded from Keith, who shoved Lance away with an arm. Letting the momentum carry him, Lance flopped down onto the couch with a pleased sigh.

The whole team had been struggling recently, not just Lance and Keith. Pidge was staying up to run data on Black. Allura spent overtime poring over diplomatic records and contacting foreign planets. Hunk struggled to tamp down on his anxieties during group discussion, nausea clear on his face. Even Coran was less chipper and more focused than before.

But, just maybe, if Keith and Lance could lead the way, the others would fall in step. Together, they could... make it easier. Okay, even.

That was only his privately held theory, though. Voicing it aloud was unthinkable.

"Bedtime?" he suggested to Keith.

"Training," Keith shot back, heaving himself to his feet and yanking the couch cushion out from under Lance. Crashing to the floor with a yelp, Lance stared up at Keith, rubbing his leg.

"Ow, dude!"

"I'll meet you at the training deck in ten minutes. Get changed and grab water."

Lance smirked at his retreating back and shoved himself upright.

Yeah, they'd be fine.

[autism-criminal]

time for more ‘ I hate my stupid overreacting sister and her holier-then-me attitude ’ posts

[xxplastic-cubexx]

this cliff took more lives than i could on my own im losing it

[reanimatedgh0ul]

this is their dynamic to me

[fragglerockopinions]

Wyll and Astarion are so gay no one else dramatically screams "Damn it Astarion!!" and "Wyll get up you sweet fool!!"

[todayisafridaynight]

psst for my stream regulars

How does the idea of me starting streams at like 1:30PM (EST) sound. i’ll still plan to run them to like 5:00PM (EST) but now its more definite it’ll actually end then opposed to accidentally going on until like. 7:30PM (EST)

Also im on mobile so i cant make a poll so you gotta let me know through like a comment or somethin ok ty

[suksatoru]

smile for the camera! — ft. k. bakugo x fem!reader

katsuki bakugo is tricked into smiling during an interview when they bring up your name!

you didn't notice it at first, but katsuki bakugo developed smile lines after meeting you.

he didn't smile much as a kid. most of his baby pictures consisted of him either crying, screaming, or making some sort of vulgar gesture at the camera. it only got worse as he entered his teen years. his temper calmed down a bit, sure. but the chances of catching katsuki bakugo smiling were as rare as catching lightening in a bottle.

the paparazzi were well aware of the famous dynamight barely having any pictures of him smiling out on the internet—there were three singular photos out there that consisted of him with a somewhat pleased expression on his face, and the only reason he looked that way was because you were in frame right beside him.

it seemed to be a well known fact that getting bakugo to smile was nearly impossible—but the current interviewer sitting in front of bakugo was determined.

"great explosion murder god dynamight—or, well, just dynamight sir—what would you say is your favorite part about being a hero?"

katsuki stops himself from rolling his eyes, already anticipating the rest of the interview's questions as he answers flatly

"the glory. the strength. and kicking ass—make that the first thing, actually."

"okay! now, i'd like to ask you a few more things..." the young woman chirps up, and katsuki sighs and tells her to continue. the next dozens of questions were just as he'd predicted—stuff like asking who his biggest inspiration was, what kind of merch his team would be putting out in the upcoming months, and what he thought his weaknesses were.

"—and i don't have weakness. i'm fucking perfect, ask anybody. now, are we done here?" he snaps, rolling his shoulders as he moves to stand up, eyes flitting towards the exit with nothing but disinterest

he'd spent an entire hour answering these stupid questions when he could've been out fighting villains, finishing up his paperwork, literally anything else would be more time fulfilling than answering baseless questions like these ones.

the interviewer's eyes widen when katsuki stands up from his seat, stretching his arms above his head with a grunt before she quickly interrupts him

"what about your wife!"

"....eh?"

"your wife!" she says, quickly collecting herself

"could you tell us about her? it seems like many of your fans are interested in learning more regarding you two! you have a very private relationship, so it's only natural for people to be curious!"

katsuki blinks, absorbing her words. slowly, his feet—once pointed towards the exit—shift ever so slightly towards the woman

"well...what do you want to know?"

and that's how katsuki found himself sitting in the same seat another hour later. except this time, he had the dorkiest grin ever plastered on his face.

"oh i knew i wanted to marry her the first time she yelled at me—she was pretty feisty back in our ua days. still is, but now all the insults she throws my way usually have the word babe or honey added at the end. she has a clever mouth, i'm warnin' ya—you don't wanna get into an argument with her."

the interviewer laughs, and katsuki decides he might come back to this station another time if they asked. he's... well, simply put, having fun.

he leaves after another forty minutes, only because his manager literally dragged him out of the room—he had a meeting to attend and then his patrol—but he left waving at the camera crew and in a far more better mood than he'd arrived in.

katsuki spends the rest of the day getting through all of his hero duties, the interview slowly being pushed to the back of his mind as he focuses on finishing all his work and coming home to you.

it's nearly nine pm when he opens the door to your shared apartment—groaning about how tired he was and how you better not be asleep—when he hears your padded feet running towards the main entryway to greet him

"you're home!"

he offers you a slanted grin, opening his arms for a hug

"missed ya today," he mutters, pressing a kiss onto your scalp as you peer up at him with a grin—looking a little too happy.

"what're ya cheesing so hard about?"

you hum, tapping the back of his thigh with a knowing grin

"your ma called me. guess what she told me?"

katsuki groans, shrugging off his gauntlets and boots before tugging you towards the couch in the living room, flopping onto it while mumbling under his breath and pulling you towards his chest

"you two devils were probably gosspin' about me, that old hag better not have sent you any pictures or i swear—"

"she told me to turn on the tv and head to channel seven."

katsuki pauses, staring at you with furrowed brows. well, it couldn't have been him on channel seven, right? he didn't have any crazy villains to deal with for once, so it wouldn't make sense for him to be on one of the main channels today.

"what..."

he smacks his forehead with an embarrassed groan when you pull out your phone and show him your recording of his interview. you're practically bouncing on the couch beside him with glee as you shove the screen in his face

"you're smiling! they made it the cover of their video, too—gosh you look so cute when you smile! and you're talking about me!"

katsuki huffs, but watches you play back the video with a cheesy grin on your face. your round eyes are illuminated by the screen, and you re-watch the video with your lips parted in awe

"you got the real thing right in front of you but you'd rather watch that...i see how it is." he grumbles, something similar to a pout forming on his face when you still don't acknowledge him—too busy watching his video as you bring the phone closer to your face

"i'm going to screenshot your smiling face in this video and make it my profile picture on insta—"

he snatches the phone out of your hand, powering it off before tossing it aside and wrapping his strong arms around your waist in an iron grip

"i'll make that one of you snoring and drooling all over my chest my profile picture if you even think about it."

"i'm pretty sure half the comments on that video literally have your smiling face as their profile picture."

"...well that's a lot of people i'm gonna have to sue."

[roanofarcc]

WORTH YOUR WHILE

pairing. Tyler Owens x fem!reader

summary. as the local weather woman, you shared an interesting rivalry with your hometown storm-chaser. while you always reported on the dangerous weather from a safe distance, tyler barreled into it head-first. but things change the night of the county fair when you find yourself in the middle of a storm rather than in the safely of a newsroom. 

warnings. dramatic fluff, hurt/comfort, description of tornados, a curse word or two, description of injury, slightly inaccurate meteorological info.

word count. 2.9k || masterlist

a/n. hopping on the glen powell bandwagon bc he and daisy absolutely killed it in twisters!! feel free to send me requests for tyler, kate, and javi!

“If you keep looking at him like that your face will get stuck in a scowl, which is really bad for television,” your friend said, leaning into your side. With a roll of your eyes, you managed to pull your attention away from the self-titled ‘tornado wrangler’ who had stirred up a fuss in the line for funnel cakes. People buzzed all around him as he signed shirts and took photos, never dropping his smile that you often dreamed about smacking right off of his face. 

You had grown up alongside Tyler Owens, never as friends but as friends of friends. After you both split off for school to study meteorology, you returned to your hometown for very different reasons. Tyler started in the business of storm chasing, live streaming his adventures to people all across the internet who sensationalized the dangerous weather, and you scored a job as your hometown’s Weather Woman. Your job was to warn people about the threat of tornados while his was to drive head-on into them. 

That was where you two drew your lines in the sand when it came to each other. He thought you were scared of taking risks while you thought his thrill-seeking was stupid and would eventually get him or one of his team members hurt. Those opinions on each other's job led to you two butting heads every time you encountered one another. His mere presence was enough to annoy you, especially at your favorite event of the summer, the fair. 

“Look who it is,” Tyler’s voice sounded near you and your friend nudged your arm in the direction of it. You looked away from her just as he approached you, tipping his hat and flashing his teeth in a smile. “Didn’t know they still let you out of the newsroom these days.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest, as the air of arrogance surrounding him nearly choked you out. “Don’t you have a tornado to chase?” you asked, wanting to end the conversation before it fully started. Unfortunately, he never seemed put off by your jabs, but he was assumed by them. 

“I took the night off,” he replied. “I wanted to see if there was anything worth my while here tonight.” 

You raised your brows. “Oh really?” He nodded, smiling brightly at you. “Find anything yet?” 

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “It’d be easier if she answered my phone calls.” 

Tyler disliked you a whole lot less than you disliked him. After you graduated and he started storm chasing, he tried at every given opportunity to get you to join his team. Even years later he still tried to, no matter how many times you told him the risk he was putting himself and his team in every time they barreled into a storm cell. He was relentless but you were happy where you were at. You wanted to help people when it came to severe weather, not make the storm look enticing for internet audiences. 

“I already told you, I’m not interested.” Storm chasing was a dangerous game that you had no intention of playing. Being from the Midwest, you had lived through your share of tornados. Chasing them was not in apart of your career path.

His smile faded slightly before he seemed to snap back to himself. “All I’m saying is, we could use a mind like yours out in the field.” The compliment was nice, you could admit that to yourself, but it wouldn’t win you over. He knew that too. “But suit yourself.” And with that he walked off, meeting up with the rest of his team that joined him at the fair that night. 

Your friend whistled lowly. “I don’t know how you do it,” she said. 

“Do what?” 

“Say no to a man like that.” You rolled your eyes once more as the line you were in moved. As she stepped forward to order, you threw a quick glance over your shoulder in the direction Tyler had walked off in. You saw him happily chatting with his team before glancing back at you for just a moment before you returned your gaze forward.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of colorful lights, sticky heat, and enough fried food to make your stomach ache in the best possible way. Your friend left after a couple hours of roaming the prize barns and laughing at the kids screaming their heads off on the carnival rides, but you stuck around for a little longer, relishing in the sweet nostalgia the fair brought you. 

Before you had taken a couple of well-deserved days of work, you and your team had predicted a storm front moving. Later that night was supposed to bring rainfall and a thunderstorm or two popping up around the county and neighboring areas. You thought you’d have plenty of time to roam the fair for a little longer until it hit, but you noticed the shift in the weather almost immediately. The sudden uptick in wind pricked the back of your neck as the distant rumble of thunder echoed above the fair chaos. 

It was difficult to predict everything, that you had learned early on in your career. It also was hard to predict how quickly weather could change from bad to deadly. One moment you’re gazing up through the lights into the night sky, trying to gauge the incoming storm, and the next, the sirens are blaring across the fairgrounds. 

The crowd of people running in every direction made the walkways hazardous. You were knocked into and jostled around as you tried to run toward the restrooms that doubled as storm shelters. They were clear at the opposite end of the walkway, but they were your closest option. You dodged and weaved through the swarms of people, trying to stay on your feet. 

You only made it halfway to the shelter when you were stopped by the awful cries of a little girl who sat under the counter of one of the carnival games. She hugged her knees to her chest and called out for her mom, but no one who rushed by stopped. You didn’t think twice before you sidestepped the fleeing crowd and crouched down in front of the little girl. The wind picked up significantly, blowing the cheap prizes right out of the booths and sending everything flying around and knocking into people. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” you raised your voice above the howl of wind and frantic people. 

“My mom!” she cried harder. “I lost her. I don’t know where she is!” 

You glanced back up at the sky. The lightning strikes illuminated the massive, dark mass moving in quickly. “Come with me, and I’ll help you find her, okay?” 

The noise all around grew louder, frightening the little girl, along with yourself, but as you outstretched your hand, she took it, and you quickly pulled her to her feet before you both took off running. The speakers urged everyone to seek shelter immediately, but you watched as people raced in the opposite direction of the shelters, probably bee-lining to cars in an awful call. They’d never out race it. 

“Charlotte!” Someone screamed and the little girl whipped her head around before she tugged hard on your hand. From behind you, the little girl’s mother appeared, immediately scooping up her daughter in her arms. “Oh my, God. Thank you!” she said, looking at you with teary eyes. 

“We have to take cover,” you told her, gently pushing her forward. “The shelter’s just up that way.” She thanked you again before she took off with her daughter in her arms. You wanted to follow, it was stupid not to when the wind gusts became more powerful, rattling everything dangerously and making it hard to think. But there were more people unsure of where to go and what to do. Groups of kids who had been dropped off for the evening stumbling frantically out of the rides and still dizzy. You stepped from the path and tried to direct people as best you could, shouting in tune with the speaker and the sirens for them to hurry into the shelter. 

It wasn’t until larger objects were plucked from the ground and tossed into the air like paper did you abandoned your aiding. The tornado screeched to life, ripping apart pieces of the show barns and rides with ease. You tried to close the distance between yourself and the shelter once more, but it wasn’t people in need that stopped you, it was a sheet of metal pried from the side of one of the food trucks. You tried to dodge the hurling objects, but the sheet came at you hard and fast. 

It sliced your shin, sending a wave of pain up through the rest of your leg. You stumbled, determined to stay upright, but the wind was too strong for your limping figure, and you toppled against the concrete, slamming your knees against the ground before you rolled over into the lousy shelter of a game’s tent somehow still standing. 

Panic started to set in as the storm raged around you, loud and monstrous. You covered your wound with your hands, unsure of where the blaring of the tornado ended and the fast-paced beat of your heart started, drumming in your ears and beating against your skull. You knew you couldn’t stay there, but leaving was just as dangerous as every attraction of the fair swirled around in the air. The cut from your leg painted your hands red and throbbed; it would only slow you down if you tried to run, creating even more of a risk. 

You didn’t know what to do. All of your life, the storms you had faced you’d always been lucky enough to find shelter in plenty of time, from the cellar in your backyard to your high school’s basement created just for such an occasion. 

Through the freight train sounding winds and your thundering heart, you heard a couple of voices that had to be close. Tearing your eyes away from the cut on your leg, you watched as another group of people sprinted down the walkway as someone yelled behind them to run. 

In all of your life, you’d never been so relieved to see Tyler Owens’s face standing just a few feet away; he hadn’t spotted you, and for a terrifying moment you thought he’d be unable to hear you yell out above the screaming storm. But somehow, he did. His head snapped in your direction, rain-coated and windblown, looking both out of sorts and in his element. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled as he ran over to you, dodging flying debris that grew larger by the minute. The second he crouched down in front of you, his eyes flickered onto your legs, and the blood seeping out between your fingers as you tried to keep pressure on the wound. 

“I thought I’d just hang out here,” you said, your sarcasm watered down by the fear clear in your teary eyes.

His brows furrowed, deep in thought for a moment as he looked between you and the distance there was still to cross to the only close shelter. Without saying a word, he peeled off his wet flannel, leaving himself in a shirt that was already nearly soaked through as the sideways rain beat down against the both of you. “I’m gonna tie this around your leg and then we’re gonna run, okay?” 

You shook your head frantically. The ache in your legs was intense and you had already lost a good amount of blood, not enough to make you woozy but you were well on your way. It felt like your heart had crawled up your throat, making it hard to breathe as panic soaked you to the bone along with the rain. Everything around you seemed to be ripped from the ground, even the anchored tent you were under was seconds away from being picked up. 

“Hey,” he said, grabbing a hold of your shoulders, shaking you slightly. “It’ll be alright. You gotta trust me, though.” The sincerity shined in his eyes, bright as the rest of the power around you flickered wickedly. With a nod of your head, you dropped your hands from your leg and let him tie the flannel around your cut. As he pulled it tight, you cried out in pain. “I’m sorry,” he kept repeating until it was knotted. Quickly, he jumped to his feet and helped you up, looping an arm around your waist as you slung an arm around his shoulders. 

“Ready?” You didn’t get a chance to respond as the tent you were under was plucked from the ground, anchors and all, and flung backward into the tornado as it tore through the front entrance of the fairgrounds. Tyler took off, giving you no choice but to follow. 

You two stayed low, trying desperately to avoid the flying objects. With each step your leg burned, but Tyler’s hold on you was strong, not giving any room for you to lag behind or slip away. It felt like hours of running, but it was no more than a minute or two before you reached the shelter. The only major injury between the two of you was your leg, otherwise, you both collected a series of little cuts and bruises from your journey. 

Stumbling into the restroom, you were met with a hoard of scared fairgoers. You two managed to find a spot to slot yourself in with everyone else. He helped you lower yourself to the floor back in the corner just as the tornado was fully on top of you. You brought your knees up to your chest and covered your head. Tyler sat flushed against your side; you felt his hands rest over the top of yours as the building rattled violently. Squeezing your eyes shut, you refused to see the damage until the howl of wind subsided and people started to stir. 

Once it was over, everyone stumbled out of the shelter, getting jumbled together as police and ambulances rushed to the scene. Amongst people pushing and shoving to find their loved ones and get the hell home, you and Tyler were separated and before you could look for him, an EMT caught sight of your bloodied leg and ushered you to one of the ambulances. 

You sat on the back after the EMT stitched up your leg, looking over the torn-apart fairgrounds. Debris was littered everywhere, food trucks and carts overturned and some demolished, and rides were dislocated and strewn about in pieces. 

You clutched the bloodied flannel to your chest, shivering in the loss of adrenaline and temperature drop, and watched the sea of people until a familiar face popped into view, looking a little frantic as he stumbled through the crowd looking like he was in search of something. His eyes finally settled on you before he quickly pushed his way through the crowd until he reached you. 

“Hi,” you greeted, smiling tiredly. 

“I was looking for you everywhere,” he said, sounding slightly out of breath. “I looked away for a second and you were gone and-” You continued to smile, and he stopped himself. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Nothing,” you replied quietly before clearing your throat. “I, um, I just wanted to thank you. And I’m sorry for ruining your flannel.” You gestured to the ruined piece of clothing resting in your lap. 

Tyler was quiet for a moment, looking at the large bandage around your shin. “Don’t mention it,” he said, brushing off your thanks like he hadn’t just pretty much saved your life. “What were you doing out there anyway?” 

You sighed, feeling a creep of embarrassment up your spine. You should’ve known better but at the moment you just wanted to help people and had little regard for your own safety, until your leg was sliced open, that was. “There were people still out there, trying to figure out where to go. I was trying to help.” 

“That was stupid,” he said. “But brave. Stupidly brave, maybe.” 

“Funny. I think I’ve said the same thing about you a time for two.” 

His signature smirk slowly fell onto his lips. “Not to my face.”

“Oh, no. Never.” 

Tyler laughed, gently patting your knee, lingering for a moment before he dropped his hand back at his side. Someone called out your name, and you spotted your friend running back through the crowd. She had called you as soon as you had made it to the ambulance and told you she’d come back to take you home. 

“You should get some rest,” he said. “I’ll see you around.” As he turned around to walk away, you called out to him. 

“Tyler, wait.” He paused. “You should try calling me again. Maybe I’ll answer this time.” Breaking out in a grin, he tipped his hat in another goodbye, leaving you with a new feeling stirring inside your chest. 

Bonus! 

Hours later, after you had cleaned yourself up, you were tucked into bed, reading by the lamp light knowing sleep was probably far off after the events of the night. You didn’t expect your phone to ring that late into the night, and when you glanced at it, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the caller ID, but that time it was something besides annoyance that you felt. 

You answered, discarding your book on your nightstand. “You don’t waste any time do you,” you teased. 

“What I can say,” Tyler said on the other line. “I know when I find something worth my while.” 

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 — 𝐂.𝐒.

Synopsis: Nick has been your best friend for so long, but you can’t seem to get a long with his brother—Chris. You try to mess with Chris and it backfires….badly….

Warnings: illegal street racing, stupid driving, tension, smut with so much plot it hurts, street racer Chris, BIG MASSIVE SHLONG CHRIS, size kink, bulge kink, dick-wad Chris, p n v, raw sex, riding (wink), and more....

A/N: THIS IS OVER 5.2K WORDS. THIS IS NAWT A QUICK READ. Now, get in the car bitches, we're getting HORNYYYYYY!!!!

With love and bigs tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Hey, cute jeans!” I wave, my lips curling into a grin as I squint my eyes at him—Chris. He rolls his tongue, shaking his head as he stalks off further down the street. Ha. 

It’s one of those rare occurrences—I’m here—at his street race, for god knows what reason. 

All I ever do is mock him. In fact, that’s why I call him cute jeans. The first time Nick and I had shown up at one of these dumb things, Chris thought I was a stranger from behind—and my jeans? Damn. 

He had to be a real asshole and hit on me. 

That night was fun for more than one reason. It sparked something—something I didn’t know existed. 

After that, my teasing only got worse. Chris’s ego couldn’t handle staying silent, he always had something smart to say. 

“Come to watch me again, huh? Gonna record it for later, I bet,” Chris winks. My mouth snaps shut as I go to say something back. He’s already gone—not giving me a second to respond before shutting the door to his car and speeding down the road. 

Typical. 

It’s still bright out. The sun sinks lower into the horizon as more people crowd the deserted street by the minute. 

“Okay, let’s just take a couple more pics and then we’ll go. I know you hate this,” Nick huffs, adjusting the leather jacket he’s wearing—the same coat that inspired this whole photoshoot. But you couldn’t blame him, he did look hot as fuck. 

Even if his looks resemble a certain idiot lurking nearby. 

Part of me is burning with spite. I hate letting Chris have the last word. But my brain sparks with an idea, a brilliant idea. 

How much would it cost him if I stayed around? 

Those stupid bets were always placed in his favor. No one could deny he was good—really good. He drove on the street like he owned it and he never even seemed nervous. 

“I kinda wanna stay—” My words are interrupted as I feel an arm rest down on my shoulders. I look over to see Beck, a girl I love seeing. 

She’s vibrant—especially with her signature red lip that seemed to draw all eyes to her. I always blossom off her confidence, loving to sit next to her when she showed true female power all with one swing of that stupid flag in the air. 

“How are ya, girlie? Haven’t seen you in months,” she puffs, hugging me a little bit closer before dropping her arm back to her side. 

I smile over at her. “Pretty good, you still stomping on egos?” I question, the glint of mischief in her eyes reflecting back as she gives me a slow nod. 

“Oh, always. Especially Chris—and it’s just for you.” She boops my nose as her words drag through the wind, the sound of tires screeching starting to muffle the chaotic hum of the crowd forming. 

Nick stares down at the camera lens, scrolling through the pictures I had taken of him—the reason why we were here, pretty much. “Actually, I think we got enough. But are you sure you wanna stay? I can come back and get you later—”

Beck brushes on Nick’s shoulder. She scrunches her nose at me while licking over her teeth. “I got her, Nick. Go home and post those pics, I’ll return her to you safely after tonight, don’t worry.” 

“Alright…” Nick sighs, reluctantly hugging me and wandering back towards his car to head home. 

“So why’d you wanna stay? Finally like cars?” Beck interrogates. 

I shake my head vigorously, laughing as she smiles at me. “Fuck no, I just—”

“You’re gonna mess with him, aren’t you?”

Her question rings through the air as a speeding car flies by—racers already warming up.

My eyes trace towards the track, seeing a sleek red sports car in the distance doing donuts. Of fucking course. Chris was always doing some dumb shit—illegal street racing or doing fucking donuts while the other racers were repeatedly drifting around the corners or fixing up their cars. 

He’s so cocky. 

I whisper back to her as I watch his car tires mark the pavement. “Damn right.”

___

Chris is already fed up—I can tell by the way his jaw clicks and his nostrils flare when I catch him in the corner of my eye. 

And I’m looking directly at him, a stupid smile covering my face as I put my money on the bet table. It’s twenty bucks, but it was twenty bucks I was willing to spend, or rather waste. Chris hasn’t lost in a while—honestly I’m not sure if he ever has. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chris huffs, pulling me by the arm as he drags me to the side of the road by his car. 

He roughly shoves me. The feeling of his car pressed up against my backside leaves my eyes twinkling with pride—I’m really getting to him. Just like I planned.

I shrug. “Just placing my bets. Isn’t that what everyone does at these—”

“Why are you here? Why’re you–,” as his eyes stare into mine, his rough tone falls silent, his scowl curling into a smirk as he analyzes the subtle twitch of my nose. “Huh—just comin’ to watch, right?” 

I nod to his question, my pride sinking to my feet as I try to stand up tall. Chris presses his body against mine, making my weight lean against the car once more. I swallow thickly as his hand drops from my arm. 

What is he doing?

“You know, I meant it, right?” he tuts, his eyes tracing your figure with no shame. “These jeans… baby, they look so good on you.” His voice gets deeper, his head falling forward as his lips graze my ear. “-bet they’d look better off though, hm?”  

Fuck. 

I wish it didn’t make something inside the pit of my gut burn—but it did. God, it really fucking did. My heart is hammering against my chest, the pulse in my neck pounding in my ears as slight butterflies in my stomach make it harder to breathe. 

Shoving my body quickly, I manage to escape his hold. “Shut up. You’re such a cocky prick,” I spit, my arms folding across my chest as I try to keep a stern expression. 

Chris lets out a dry laugh, grinning like he’s already won. He takes a couple steps forward, letting his hand travel into the ends of my hair, “And yet, you love it. I can practically hear how nervous I’m makin’ you, it’s a real ego boost,” he husks. 

“You don’t make me—” My lips fall open further, motionless as his hand moves to my neck, his cold fingers brushing against my pulse as my eyes go wide. 

“Not nervous, huh…” His head leans towards the side as he stares all over my face. His eyes linger on my lips as I try to look away. 

But it’s impossible. Chris swerves his head, not letting my eyes leave his as he just stares at me. 

“Chris, stop—”

“Why? Do I make you too nervous?” he urges, licking over his teeth and letting his hands drop down to his sides. 

I feel a wave of heat caress up my spine and over my shoulders. “Don’t you have some stupid race to lose?” 

The taunt seems humorous to him, the last resolve of my dignity peeking through mumbled words as he wipes over his mouth. 

“Alright, alright. Guess I’ll go try to lose, but—I might need your help.” He shrugs, walking off with a wink. 

Uh oh. 

Help?

___

I can’t tell what the fuck is going through his brain. Part of me regrets staying—but another part of me is sickly invested in whatever this twisted game is. 

Nearly all bets had been placed. Stacks of money rested on the plastic table with a heavy bais—most were betting on Chris. 

It had to be at least two grand. 

He wouldn’t give up two grand for some petty argument with me, right? No—that would be insane. Absolutely bonkers. 

…right?

I watch as Beck stands in the middle of the dark street, the only glow coming from the blue streetlights above. The sun had set quickly, the stars and moon doing nothing compared to the headlights from all the cars.

My legs hurt. I didn’t realize I had been clenching every muscle for the entirety of the countdown to the actual race. The cold bleachers sting against my skin in the night air—maybe I would’ve dressed warmer if I thought I was gonna stay. But no—I was stuck shivering in jeans, a purple lace bra peeking from under my black top, and a letterman jacket. 

The front row gave the best view, but I had no one to shield the bitter breeze. But it was worth it. This way I got to sit by Beck the entire time. 

“Racers ready?” she shouts, her voice prominent over the reviving engines as she holds the flag in the air. 

Chris is on the side closer to me, his boyish smile apparent as I stare at the side of his face. The other guy was one of the better ones—the bets had some sort of hope in him, a large stack of bills showing that he had a decent amount of skill. 

My mouth waters as I see Chris run a hand through his hair, his head turning and his eyes catching mine. Holy fuck. He looks absolutely dreamy—there’s not an ounce of anxiety, pure confidence radiating from him. 

And it makes it so hard to look away. 

“Wait, I got one more bet I gotta place,” Chris announces. 

What?

My brows furrow, my face scrunching as I watch Beck relax the flag back down to her side. “Make it quick.” 

Chris nods at her words, my stomach flutters as he stares directly back at me, leaning his head out his window while licking over his lips. “Wanna make a bet, sweetheart?” he asks. 

I look around me, my shoulder sinking slightly as I take in the amount of people staring at me. 

He’s holding up the race to embarass me. Fuck. 

As I stare back at him with squinted eyes, he clicks his tongue on the side of his mouth. “If I win, I get to take you for a drive. Deal?”

“What?” I exclaim, throwing my hand in the air as I motion to the bet table, “Why the hell would I agree to that—”

“You bet against me, remember?” he points. 

My lips smack shut, the lump in my throat gathering thicker as I try to swallow. “I’ll even give you the chance to make sure I lose a round. We gotta bet or not?” he questions, his eyes twinkling as the blue lights illuminate his sharp features.  

If he had to lose one of the three rounds, that put more hope into the other racer. And if the other race won, I’d be more than content. Getting to call him a loser would definitely irk him more than anything—especially if it was true.

I hear boos chant around me. “Hurry up and race!” someone says from behind me. 

My body stiffens as I hear the chorus of disapproval. “Deal!” I shout, biting on my inner cheek. 

Chris looks at me with a daunting grin, his hand squeezing on the wheel as he nods. “A’right—ready. Sorry for the hold up.” 

Beck rolls her eyes, holding up the flag once more. 

“Racers ready?” she glares at Chris, continuing on as he revs his engine in response, “3—2—-1, GO—”

My heart drops as I watch the smoke from the tires scratching the street float around Beck. She saunters over, settling beside me as I lean forward, my pulse pounding in my ears as I watch them race side-by-side. 

As the car rounds the corner and starts nearing the finish line, Chris’s car zooms just slightly in front of the other vehicle, only seconds of a difference. 

I can’t wait to call him a fuckin loser. 

Beck walks back out, the flag raising in the air as both cars position once again. “Alright, race two. Ready, set—” 

“Hey!” 

Stomping her heels on the pavement, Beck scowls at Chris as he shouts towards my direction. I look over, my face burning as I feel the crowd stare down at me. 

I didn’t know much about racing, but I knew enough. This wasn’t normal—this was the prime way to piss people off. 

As I go to ask what he wants, Chris curls his finger, motioning for me to come closer. 

The fuck? 

I hesitantly stand up, my arms wrapped tightly around my torso as I walk up to his car window. Chris stares up at me with devious eyes. He obnoxiously chews a piece of gum, his jaw bone protruding with each movement. 

“What the fuck do you want?!” I whisper-yell, catching angry eyes boring onto me as I take a quick glance over my shoulder. 

Oh, these people are mad—fucking furious, even. 

“Kiss me.” 

I do a double take, my eyes blinky slowly as I watch him lick over the bottom ridges of his teeth, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. 

“What?” I breathe out, a dry laugh heaving from my lips. 

He can’t be serious…

“However long you kiss me is however long I’ll wait to start drivin’. Didn’t you want me to lose? C’mon pretty girl, you saw the bet table—use your head, alright? It’s just a kiss,” he taunts.

This is how he was gonna give me the chance to make him lose a round—I should’ve known. 

I shake my head, cringing as I hear the boo’s from the crowd get louder. 

“I’m startin’,” Beck says, holding up the flag. “3—”

“Yes or no? It’s up to you,” he shrugs, his eyes drawing over my face as my lips smack open and shut. 

“2—”

The noise of his engine revving makes my anxiety settle. This is my chance—my only chance at that. 

“Fuck it,” I murmur, taking a long stride towards him. 

“1—GO!” 

I crash my lips onto his, my hands on either side of his jaw. His lips meet mine with a hard urgency, the rhythm of my movement panicked and rushed. 

My breath hitches in my chest—I don’t know if it’s because I forgot to breathe or if it’s from the feeling of his hand traveling up and tangling around the back of my neck, pulling me impossibly closer as he slips his warm tongue into my mouth. 

I nearly forget everything, gasping for air as I pull back quickly, moaning as I feel his mouth hungrily chase mine. 

Never in my life had I been kissed like this—so passionately and rough. 

“Hey! This gotta be breakin’ some rules–”

Fuck. 

The person yelling from the crow makes me pull back into reality. I stand up, watching as Chris slowly flutters his eyes open at me with a grin so cocky my hand twitches with the urge to slap him. 

Why did that feel so… good? 

Before anyone can say a thing, the other car slowly halts back to the starting line. 

Had we really been kissing that long? 

My fingers mindlessly float up to my tingling lips, my head feeling lighter as the surroundings start to spin a bit. It’s like he put some drug in his mouth that immediately became addicting. I want more. 

“See? I kept my word,” Chris points out, “Now—you gonna keep your word if I win? Lemme take you for a drive?” I swallow thickly, nodding slowly. “Good. Now go sit down and cheer for me real loud, alright?” 

I don’t have time to respond before Beck interrupts with the same question, starting to count down. I quickly stumble back towards the bleachers, a sigh of relief pushing through my lips as my head bobbles between my shoulders while I sit down. 

The loud cars barely register in my brain. All I can focus on is how light everything feels, how my lips are swollen and pulsing. 

“C’MON!!!” 

Chants behind me draw my attention back to the road. What the fuck? It’s not even close—Chris is speeding around the corners way smoother than the first round, almost as if he had been—

Oh fuck.

He was holding back. 

I tried to mess with him and he played me with ease. 

Part of me should be mad as he races near the finish line—but all I feel is excitement—anticipation. 

My teeth clench into my lower lip as I watch him storm past the line, not even waiting for the other racer to finish before stepping out of his car and walking over. 

Is he…?

My eyes bulge as he walks in front of me, holding his hand out as an offer. “C’mon, you promised, yeah?” he urges. 

I nod slowly, sliding my hand in his. He drags me to his car, opening the passenger door and shutting it after I climb in. 

“Chris! The money—”

Beck’s words fall on deaf ears as Chris slides into the driver seat, pressing his foot on the gas hard. 

“You didn’t even get the money—what’re we doing?” I ask, looking behind my shoulder to see a crowd of people turned to our direction as we speed off further down the road. 

“You know, it’s not nice to try and tick me off,” he huffs, quickly glancing at me with a harsh stare. 

Oh.

Oh.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ abou–”

Chris lets out a vocal sound of disbelief, cutting me off, “Yeah, you do. Fuckin—bettin’ against me, tryna get me to lose and shit. For what? Don’t have a boyfriend to give you any attention, huh?” he asks, his hand reaching over and grasping onto my thigh. 

He knows I don’t have a boyfriend—I know he’s aware of that fact. 

I stare down at his large hand squeezing my jean-clad leg. Something about his rough grip makes me shift in my seat, my thighs clutching together as I feel a wave of warmth settle into the pit of my stomach. 

“You like my hand on your thigh, don’t you?” he says, smirking wider as I watch the blue streetlights cast a subtle glow on his cheekbones. 

“I—”

“You like it. Admit it.” 

There’s no room to argue as he trails his hand up further, his fingers tracing dangerously high as he gives me a rough squeeze. Fuck his hands feel good on me. 

“Chris what’re you—”

“Do you know how it feels to constantly see you and know I can’t touch you?” he starts, the car rolling to a stop by the side of the road as he rushedly shifts gears to park, “-you’re always fuckin’ teasin’ me—bein’ a damn brat and I have to keep my hands to myself,” he grits, shaking his head as he stares down at me. 

I swallow thickly as I shift in the seat. “Chris, I–”

“No. None of that bullshit. You’re always tauntin’ me. Why’d you stay, hm? Why?” he questions, his tongue clicking on the roof of his mouth as his eyes deepen with intensity and dominance. 

Silence. I can’t fathom any words to say, my pulse drumming quicker as Chris pats his lap, adjusting his chair back. 

“Over here. Now.” 

“Chris, what are we doing?” I ask, hesitantly starting to climb over the center console. 

His hands wrap around the underside of my thighs, pulling me quickly while I let out a slight yelp as he sits me down in his lap. His hands are firm on either side of my hips. “I’m done playin’ these stupid fuckin’ games. I just—” 

The air is quiet. His eyes fall to my lips, his hands grasping just a little bit tighter around me. I can still feel the lingering sensation from his lips on mine earlier, the slight tingle still buzzing on the soft muscle as I let myself lean in closer. 

“We should stop,” Chris breathes, his tongue sliding between his lips as his eyes flicker up towards mine. 

“Why?” 

The question rolls off my lips with ease, my palms flattening against his chest as I lower my mouth to his neck, breathing over his pulse. 

“Because–” He lets out a hiss. I place my lips on his neck, sucking gently as I massage my hand over his shoulder. “Shit—we gotta stop, baby—this, this–” His jaw goes slack as I find his sweet spot. His hands dig into my hips, the slight bulge growing beneath me making my lips curl into a smile as I gently grind myself on top of him. 

“Why do you wanna stop, Chris?” I ask, nibbling the bottom of his ear, “What’s got you so tongue-tied, hm?” 

“You’re killin’ me,” he points, his gaze trained on me as he tangles his hand through my hair, pulling me back just enough to look at him, “-fuckin’ so annoying, so pretty and horrible, I just—I don’t know how much I can hold back–”

“Don’t,” I whisper, my hand gathering the material of his shirt in a fist as I watch him bite on his lower lip. His eyes trace over my face, one of his hands slowly tracing underneath my shirt, callusing beneath my bra. 

“Yeah? Don’t want me to hold back, hm?” he remarks, his hips adjusting in the slightest, my mouth falling open as I feel him rut against me through the fabric of our clothes. 

Fuck. I can’t take this. 

I lean forward, crashing my lips against his once more. Chris hums into my mouth. He furiously helps me peel off the bulky letterman jacket, the cold air feeling like relief compared to my burning skin. 

“Holy fuck, slow down, baby,” he husks, his hands falling to my hips as I shameless grind myself against his hard bulge. But I can’t get enough. “-’m not going anywhere—gonna stay and make you feel so good. Promise.” 

My heart drops as I feel his hand delicately caress over the purple lace covering my breasts. His nimble fingers trace around my hardened nub, a slight moan falling through my lips as I feel him smirk against me. 

“Take those cute jeans off, c’mon. Be a good girl for me—just this once, alright?” he grins. 

I nod slowly, awkwardly shifting as I pull down the denim while kicking off my shoes. Chris gets impatient, yanking the clothing to his own accord before planting me back on his lap, his jacket now discarded. 

“Holy fuck, look at these legs—would look so good wrapped around me,” he whispers, brushing my hair to the side as his lips graze my neck, “-while I fuck you deep and hard.” 

Oh my god. 

My mind is numb, every inch of my skin pulsing with a hot sensation of greed. Chris stares at me with lust, his hand moving in the corner of my eye. “Want me to touch you? Right….here,” he breathes, the pad of his finger resting directly over my bundle of nerves. 

I nod slowly, looking at him with hooded eyes as he starts to slowly circle the digit with a light, feathery touch. 

“More,” I moan, pulling his shirt into my fists as I watch him smile at me. 

“Yeah? What do you want, hm? Want my big dick in you? Want me to stretch you out and make you cum over and ov—

“Please,” I whisper, my hips moving for me as I struggle to stay still. 

Chris looks down, gesturing for me to take control. I hesitantly fumble with his jeans, pulling out his hard length as my mouth starts to water. 

Fuck. He’s big. No—he’s huge. 

As I go to pull my underwear to the side, Chris stops me, placing his hand around my wrist. 

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, “-take ‘em all the way off—wanna see all of you when I fuck your guts.” 

My thighs tense from his words, my hands quickly sliding the fabric down my thighs and discarding them without a single care. Chris pets over the top of my thighs, his eyes hungrily staring down between my legs. “Fuck��are you sure you want this? I…god, I can’t believe this is happening…”

I grab his hardness in my hand, spitting and dragging the lubricant up and down his shaft. Chris grits his teeth. His hands pinching into my sides as he lets out a deep groan. “You’re so big,” I whisper, mostly talking to myself. 

My eyes bulge as I feel Chris lift me with his hands on either side of my waist, placing me so my dripping entrance is directly aligned with his tip. His eyes bore into mine with dark passion. His jaw tense as he leans forward, kissing along my neck. 

“You gonna take it all f’me?” he dares, massaging my sides but keeping me from sinking down onto him. 

“Chris, please–”

“Gotta promise to take it all, sweetheart. Been teasin’ me all day already, I don’t need anymore of that, alright? Just—just gotta promise to let me stuff you full,” he purrs, sucking on the sensitive part of my neck just below my ear. 

“I promise, just—mmphf—” He slowly loosens his grip, letting me lower myself. I feel his tip nudge past my entrance, the stretch of his size making my body tense as my legs tighten to a halt. 

“Thaatt’s it, doin’ so good, just—just relax,” he praises, brushing my hair behind my ear, “-gotta be a good girl and keep your word again, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” I stutter, slowly starting to take more of him. A broken cry falling through my lips as I feel my body stiffen again. 

Chris is patient. His eyes are trained on my face as his hands massage over my body. “You got it, c’mon—just—holy fuck,” his hand lingers down to my stomach, my top so messed up that it’s bunched over my breasts. He’s not just admiring the skin, he’s worshipping the bulge—the distinct imprint of him inside of me as I hover over the last bit of his length. 

“Look at that, sweetheart, I mean—fuck—” 

I shriek as I feel him lift his hips upward, burying himself inside of me completely. My hands grasp onto his shoulders, my eyes teary as I watch him bite on his lower lip. “God—such a good girl, takin’ me so good,” he compliments, slowly helping me as I start to ride him. 

I feel him reach deep inside of me, my eyes staring up at the ceiling of the car while my body tenses with a wave of pleasure collapsing over every beating pulse of my skin. This is even better than that damn kiss. I’ve never felt like this before. Not ever. It’s like an adrenaline rush, so overbearingly good that it feels addicting.  

“How’s that, baby, hm?” he hums, smiling down at the sight of his length plunging into my guts with each thrust as my movements quicken. 

“I–it’s, I—” 

What the fuck was I saying? 

Everything feels so light, so impossible. 

“That’s it, fuckkkkk—look so good ridin’ me like this, keep—-shit!” he seethes. My walls tighten around him, my nails digging into his shoulder through his shirt as he lifts his hips to meet my movements.

His lips parted with pure ecstasy. 

“Fuck, fuck, I,” My words are cut off my a moan. 

Chris laughs dryly, his grip becoming tighten as he really puts in the work—using me like a ragdoll as he furiously fucks himself into me. “Mmmm, th-ere,” he rasps, smiling as I let out small shrieks and moans between each snap of his hips. 

He’s so deep. I’d never felt this good in my life. There’s a buzzing in my ears, spots in my vision as I feel my body ruthlessly convulse with the overwhelming sensations. 

How the fuck is he so deep?

How the hell is he hitting against the perfect spot over and over and over—

“You cumming already?” 

His question pulls me back to reality. I nod dumbly, my mouth drawing open as I let out a long moan, my thighs quivering as I rock myself against his movement. 

“Oh—I—”

“My name, sweetheart, wanna hear my–my name, c’mon,” he urges, the squelches getting louder as I feel my body burn with euphoria. 

“Chris, Chris, I–I—my god,” I cry out, my hips slowly rolling to a stop as I feel him pause his motions. 

I don’t have time to react—nor to recover. I feel Chris hold me tightly, flipping me over so my back hits the seat—his cock brutal as he drills himself inside of me. 

“Take it, fuckin—fuckin’ take it,” he chants. 

My hands scramble into his hair. I pull his face into my neck, letting my teeth sink into his shoulder. Every rut of his hips leaves me breathless, my body seizing as I feel his hardness drive into me over and over again while his pelvis slaps against my clit. 

“I’m gonn—”

“Wait. Wait for me, I’m—’m so close, baby, so fuckin’ close—”

I clench around him, the buildup becoming too much as he continues to drown every inch of my body with pleasure. His desperate tone lingers in the air, his breaths shaking as his hips lose slight momentum. 

“Wher–-where do you—”

“In-inside, please, just—just let me cum,” I plea. 

Chris huffs, his thrusts becoming erratic and somehow deeper. “Cu-cum with me, I—shittttttttt, so fuckin’ good, so… so fuckin’ good,” he seethes, a warm sensation flooding inside of me as I feel my body convulse once more. 

My limbs fall lifelessly. Our motions fall lazier, eventually pausing to a halt. Chris gently removes himself, pulling me into his arms tightly and positioning back into the seat with me on his lap. 

His hand finds the back of my head as I lean onto his shoulder, petting through my hair as we both try to catch our breath. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers. I let out a light laugh, flinching as I feel my stomach burn from soreness. “You good there?” he asks. 

Nodding into the crook of his neck, I lift myself to stare at him once more. My eyes trace from his sweat ridden face, seeing a clear imprint of his hand on the fogged-up car window. My nose crinkles as I inhale deeply. “It smells like sex, I’m sorry,” I let out. 

Chris stares at me incredulously. “Sorry? That was fuckin’ perfect—better than the money if you ask me. I mean… I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself anymore,” he teases, flashing me a grin as he combs my hair behind my ear. 

My lips curl with excitement. “Oh really? You like takin’ me for rides?” 

He nods firmly, biting on his lower lip. “Mhm. And you seemed to really like ridin’.” 

I let out a light laugh, shrugging my shoulders before ruffling his hair playfully. “Only with you.”

Chris cocks an eyebrow at me, “Only me, huh?” I nod shyly, letting out a brief hum. His eyes linger on mine before falling back to my lips. “You do ride good. Maybe you should be the racer,” he taunts. 

“Maybe,” I whisper, “-maybe…” 

“Let’s get you back in those cute jeans though, yeah?” 

[luvbabydoll]

— under their noses — chapter two

a series made by © luvbabydoll

the briefing

soap slammed his hands on the table. “we need a plan.”

across from him, gaz nodded solemnly. “a proper one. can’t keep runnin’ around like headless chickens.”

ghost, arms crossed, sighed. “this is the dumbest shit I’ve ever been a part of.”

price just pinched the bridge of his nose. “why am I here?”

because obviously, this had escalated.

after weeks of failed covert testing, the boys had finally accepted that their efforts weren’t enough. they needed a strategy. a mission.

and so, they had gathered in the barracks for what soap had officially titled “operation angel.”

gaz pulled out a whiteboard. “alright, lads. let’s break this down.”

he uncapped a marker and wrote PHASE ONE: in big, blocky letters.

“step one: we confirm the voice.”

soap nodded. “already tried that, didn’t work. but we have confirmed she calls people sweetheart.”

ghost grumbled, “that’s hardly proof.”

“yeah, yeah, which is why we move on to—” gaz drew an arrow. “step two: spot the mannerisms.”

soap leaned back in his chair. “already got a list going.” he tapped a fucking notebook on the table. “lip biting. head tilting. that little—y’know—that thing she does with her hands when she’s thinking?”

gaz snapped his fingers. “yes. the wrist tapping.”

ghost stared. “you lot are fucking freaks.”

price exhaled slowly. “i cannot believe i’m listening to this.”

but the boys ignored them, too deep in the mission.

gaz turned back to the board. “step three: test her reactions.”

soap grinned. “push her a little. see if she slips up.”

ghost raised a brow. “and how, exactly, do you plan to do that?”

soap just smirked. “oh, i’ve got ideas.”

the execution — attempt #1

they were not subtle.

and the worst part?

you noticed.

it started small.

soap, lingering in the med bay for no reason, watching you like a hawk.

gaz, conveniently bringing up onlyfans in casual conversation.

ghost, lurking in doorways like a fucking cryptid, staring.

and price?

price was just done with this entire situation.

“why are you still in here?” you finally asked soap, who was sitting on the exam table, legs swinging.

“dunno.” he kicked his feet. “maybe i just like your company.”

you narrowed your eyes.

then, slowly, “…are you okay?”

soap nodded. “yeah. you could say I’m in pretty good hands.”

there was a beat.

soap just grinned.

you tilted your head. “...alright, out.”

soap groaned. “damn it.”

the execution — #2

the second attempt was even less subtle.

gaz, sitting next to you in the mess hall, sighed dramatically.

“y’know what I could really go for?” he mused.

you looked up. “what?”

gaz stretched leisurely. “a nice, soft-voiced woman tellin’ me i’ve been workin’ too hard. maybe calling me love.”

you blinked.

ghost audibly sighed.

soap hissed at him. “too much.”

gaz winced. “shit, yeah, that was too much.”

you just stared at them.

“...you guys are acting really weird.”

the execution — #3

downright pathetic.

soap, leaning against the med bay door, casually went:

“hey, what’s your opinion on side gigs?”

you didn’t even look up.

“depends.”

soap nodded. “cool, cool. ever done any? like... online stuff?”

you froze.

not much. just a flicker.

but the men saw it.

ghost, across the room, zeroed in on you.

soap grinned widely. “huh. that’s funny, because i swear i’ve seen—”

you turned around, smiling sweetly. “soap?

soap blinked. “yeah?”

you handed him a giant fucking needle.

“hold this.”

soap immediately backed away. “r-right, y’know what? forget I said anything.”

the debrief

the boys sat in the barracks, defeated.

soap groaned. “she knows.”

gaz exhaled. “oh she definitely knows.”

ghost just leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “and yet, we still don’t have proof.”

price sighed. “i hope you idiots realize how stupid this is.”

soap threw his hands up. “we can’t just ask her!”

price gave him a look. “why the hell not?”

silence.

gaz rubbed the back of his neck. “i mean… it’d be weird.”

soap nodded. “yeah. like, ‘hey, we’ve all been following your account for months, any chance that’s you?’”

price rolled his eyes. “christ. you lot are pathetic.”

but the worst part?

the absolute worst part?

despite all their efforts—despite the failed plan, the awkward encounters, the hours spent investigating—

they were still no closer to confirming it.

and you?

you were having the time of your life watching them struggle.

[mariasont]

What if the team has slowly been finding out that Spencer has a girlfriend, so one day while on a case they basically play 20 questions trying to figure her out. However, Spencer is struggling to answer because he’s dating reader and she works with the BAU. (sorry if that isn’t broad enough, I just wanted more of the secret relationship trope)

Dimple Deductions - S.R

summary: when morgan & jj notice spencer reid acting suspiciously happy, they do what they do best — profile him. unfortunately, spencer's biggest tell is your dimples pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: fluff, secret relationship, reader has dimples, morgan & jj being shit stirrers wc: 1.4k

Watching Spencer read feels vaguely inappropriate. His fingers ghost over the page before settling, skimming the text like he's absorbing it through sheer proximity. His lips part, just slightly, like he's tasting the words, rolling it over his tongue before swallowing it down, taking it apart, making it his. The cabin light catches in his hair, making his curls glow like some kind of bookish deity.

It's distracting, the way his throat bobs when he swallows, the unconscious flick of his lashes as his mind devours information faster than you can process a single thought.

He's mesmerizing in a way that feels almost unjust, a spectacle of intellect wrapped in a body far too beautiful for reason.

You don't even realize you're staring until he speaks.

"I will pay you to stop talking."

It's not aimed at you, Morgan and JJ are doing what they do best, picking apart his every move, but the sound of his voice breaks through you like a snapped thread, severing whatever trance you'd fallen into.

Morgan whistles, all amusement. "Now, why would you be so eager to change the subject, pretty boy?"

Spencer finally looks up, dragging his gaze upward with the slow resignation of a man who knows resistance is futile. He sighs, shaking his head.

"Because I value my peace?"

JJ grins, practically giddy now. "Too bad. We don't."

Your magazine is just a forgotten accessory now, lying stiff and ignored on your lap. Pulling your eyes from Spencer feels unnatural, but somehow, you manage.

You turn at last to JJ and Morgan, who are, without question, enjoying this way too much.

"What exactly are you guys talking about?" you ask, flipping the magazine with indifference, as if that somehow proves you'd been deeply invested in its pages and not making heart-eyes at Spencer.

JJ's eyes gleam with unfiltered delight. "Oh, just that Spencer here has been acting different lately."

"Suspiciously different," Morgan corrects, side-eyeing Spencer. "Relaxed. Preoccupied. Dare I say... a little too happy?"

"So, let me get this straight, you're bullying him for being in a good mood?" You cross your arms, biting your lip to keep from laughing, while Spencer looked genuinely offended.

Morgan stretches his arms behind his head, looking quite pleased with himself. "We're observing."

Spencer, who returns his gaze to his book, doesn't even flinch. "It's harassment."

"Wait. Wait." JJ points at Spencer, squinting. "Are you seeing someone?"

You tell yourself to be cool. Unbothered. Just another face in the crowd, a neutral bystander in this totally-not-terrifying conversation. You even try to breathe like you're not on high alert, but your body immediately mutinies, shoulders locking up, throat tightening, nerves snapping taut like piano wire. 

A single stupid, microscopic flinch that must, on some subconscious profiler level, set off JJ's internal alarm bells. Because she looks at you.

It's quick, so quick you almost miss it, but you feel it like a pinprick of static against your skin. A flick of her eyes, a fleeting brush of attention, there and then gone. 

Just as swiftly, she's back on Spencer.

Across from you, Spencer freezes for half a second. It's subtle enough that if you weren't staring at him, directly, shamelessly, obsessively, you might have missed it entirely.

Instead, you watch as he carefully schools his expression, turns a page, as if it matters, as if you couldn't see the calculations running in that big, brilliant brain, trying to find the most efficient escape route. 

And then, with a levelness that would be impressive if it weren't so obviously practiced, he finally says, "I don't see how that's relevant."

Morgan's smile is positively wolfish. The kind of smile that spells out, he smells blood in the water. "Oh, so that's a yes."

You watch Spencer. Closely. Nothing. Just that calm, emotionally bankrupt expression as he lifts his gaze, eyes so flat, so opaque, they may as well be made of glass.

"That's an assumption."

But Morgan isn't buying it. And then, he leans in. Hands clasped. You already know where this is going.

"Alright. First question. Is she blonde?"

"I am not doing this," Spencer says flatly.

"So... not blonde."

JJ taps her fingers against the table. "Brunette, then?"

Spencer exhales through his nose, all restrained patience, all carefully manufactured impassiveness. If you didn't know better, you'd think he still wasn't affected by the topic of conversation.

But you do know better.

He does this thing, barely a tell, not noticeable to an unloved eye, where his jaw tenses just slightly, the muscle feathering like a tremor beneath his skin. It's the same thing he does when you're being particularly difficult, when you're testing him, teasing him, saying something so unserious that he refuses to dignify it with anything more than this.

"This is ridiculous."

"You being weird about it is way more suspicious than just answering." Morgan shrugs.

Spencer clamps his mouth shut so hard, it's a miracle his teeth don't crack.

"Freckles?"

Spencer just presses two fingers to his temple like the headache they are causing him has officially become chronic. "This is — as I have said — harassment."

Morgan smirks. "Dimples?"

It stops Spencer mid-motion, like a misfire.

His fingers twitch, pull away from his temple, then hesitate midair, caught between freezing and fixing whatever just broke his expression. His mouth presses into a firm, flat line, but not before he falters, just once, lips parting like a reflexive inhale of shock he didn't mean to take.

JJ practically convulses, hands flying to her mouth as she gasps. "Oh my god, she has dimples!"

"See that? That was a pause, man. You're cooked."

Spencer snaps his book shut, the sound sharp, final, entirely too loud. 

His gaze cuts to you, like maybe he's checking to see if you're as deeply mortified as he is, and then he's back on Morgan and JJ.

"Even if, she hypothetically — had dimples, that means absolutely nothing," he starts, too fast, too precise, like he's clinging to logic as a life raft. "Dimples are present in roughly 20-30% of the population. That is millions of people. Trying to deduce someone's identity from that alone is not only statistically absurd, but frankly, beneath you."

Morgan and JJ exchange a look, one of those wordless, holy shit did he just say that? looks.

"So there is someone's identity to deduce?" 

A pause. A smirk.

"And she has dimples?"

They had kept going. Of course they had. 

More questions, each one shot off like a bullet with no time to dodge. What's her favorite colors? Does she drink coffee or tea? Dogs or cats? Landmine. Landmine. Landmine.

What does she do for work?

That last one had been dangerously close to blowing your cover.

Spencer had paused. Just long enough for you to panic. Long enough for your reflexes to kick in (literally), and you'd kicked him, hard enough in the shin under the table to snap him out of it. He'd blinked once, then shrugged, as casual as ever. 

Something intellectually stimulating, he'd said.

Which was, technically, not a lie. 

And Morgan and JJ had finally, finally let up after a while, though not before making sure Spencer left with at least three lingering smirks, two unsubtle eyebrow raises, and one last dig at his mysteriously happy mood.

It had been exhausting, but that was a tomorrow problem, because now you were home. 

Spencer's couch was too big for him but just right for you, and at some point, you had stopped being separate from him altogether, folded yourself into every available space he had left vacant, legs draped over his, arms wrapped loosely around his waist, cheeks smushed against his chest. 

It wasn't cuddling so much as absorbing him, your entire body molding to his like a particularly determined barnacle.

"You really almost sold us out there," you murmur, basically burrowed into his sweater. Your face is half-hidden, mostly because you are simply too tired to function, but also because he deserves to be shamed for this.

"The dimples, Spencer? Really?"

Spencer sighs, his chest rising and falling beneath you, fingers brushing over your spine. "I can’t help it. I really like your dimples."

You squint up at him. "Yeah, I noticed."

Spencer's lips twitch, just the faintest pull at the corners, like he's not entirely willing to let it happen. "They're cute."

His thumb presses into the hollow of your cheek, just barely, just enough to test it. Like he's confirming that, yes, it's real, it exists, and it belongs to him now.

Before you can roll your eyes and tell him to stop being ridiculous, he leans in.

And kisses it.

Like he's stamping his approval.

You let out a slow, lazy sigh as he pulls back, stretching out against him. "You really need to work on your poker face."

Spencer hums. "You think so?"

"I know so," you tease, shifting just enough to get a good look at him. "I mean, if I had been interrogated like that, I wouldn't have cracked."

His brows lift. "Oh really?"

"Not even a little."

You should have seen it coming, the way his fingers tighten at your waist, the way something sharp and knowing flickers behind those honey-brown eyes, but you don't.

Not until you're flat on your back with the couch swallowing you whole and Spencer braced over you, grinning in pure satisfaction.

"Oh?" His voice is smooth, as he leans in just a little closer, close enough that the warmth of his breath kisses your skin. “So if I decided to test that theory — ask you a few things — you wouldn’t crack?”

Your stomach flips.

"...That's not what I meant."

Spencer's laughter is soft but wicked, full of certainty, full of amusement at your expense. His fingers trace absentminded shapes against your hip, a contrast to the sharp intent in his voice.

"Mm. Too bad." His voice dips lower. "Because I already know you would."

Your part your lips to argue, but no sound comes out.

"See?" he murmurs, brushing his lips over your jaw. "Cracking already."

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[venomvalley]

BABY FEVER

sevika x fem!reader | 5k words

SUMMARY: Sevika uses the wonderful magic from a hexstrap to get you pregnant. Janna bless technology.

TAGS: 18+ only! canon divergence (hextech exists post-s2), pregnancy/breeding kink, strap-ons, strap sucking, porn with a LOT of feelings, dirty talk, wet and messy, wives in love

NOTES: this got so away from me it’s insane. also i spent way too long considering the logistics of a magical strap someone stop me

-> READ ON AO3 | SEVIKA MASTERLIST

You want a baby.

Wait, no. Big correction: you want a child.

It's a thought that you've sat on for a while. Weighed the pros and cons, philosophized about the future, carefully dissected Sevika's reactions when you teased the topic. You aren't getting any younger, and your heart craves at the sight of children playing in the street, and mothers soothing their babies, and toddlers waddling around in their cute little clothes.

At the beginning of your relationship, both of you decided that, given the current political climate (and the danger of the Undercity, and Sevika's volatile job), having kids was impossible. Frankly, neither of you were ready to be parents. But somewhere along the way, things changed. Whether it was the official creation of Zaun, or Sevika’s new position as Councilor, or your new home in the safest part of town, something just… clicked. You woke up one day, and everywhere you looked, a baby sat. Chubby cheeks and gummy smiles and wind chime laughter occupied your mind.

Your biology plays a part, yes, but this want is also a means to solidify your relationship. Specifically, the love you have for your wife. A few months ago, you began to dream about a toddler following Sevika around your home, sharing the grey of her eyes and the curve of her lips and the grumpy furrow of her brow. Many times, you woke up with tears in your eyes and an ache in your heart. A longing that refuses to leave.

So yes, you want a child.

Getting her to agree is your mountain to climb. She’s shared the past troubles with her parents, bared her heart about her fear of such a lifelong responsibility. You would never pressure her into it, but your heart might shatter if she says no.

Which is how you find yourself here, once again gazing at a woman across the street, rocking a baby in her arms. Your sweetbread and tea have long since gone cold as the two of you share a date at some uppity cafe in Piltover. Sevika spends her days at work fighting off the judgments of the city’s finest, but she thankfully spends her weekends with you making up for such long absences.

“What are you looking at?”

The sound of her voice snaps you out of your staring, and you look over at her with a heavy blink. “Uh, nothing?”

“Sure doesn’t seem like nothing.” She nods to the woman, with her big smile and crinkled eyes, and the laughing baby held in her arms. “Why them?”

You look at the wrapped sweetbread in your hands and begin pulling pieces off to squish between your fingers. Your fidgeting results in one big pile of mush that you shove into your mouth. “No particular reason.”

She glares at you—the same scathing look every time she knows that you’re lying. A tangible weight that grabs you by the back of the neck. “Is that right?”

You wash down your bread with a hearty gulp of tea and wince at the bitter, cold taste. “Yep.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“Didn’t say you were, honey.”

“You implied it by lying.”

“I’m not lying, I just—“ with a heaving sigh, you sag against the table, “I don’t wanna force you into anything.”

“I’m a big girl. If I don’t like something, I’ll say no.”

You ready yourself with a long inhale, forearms braced atop the table. “Okay then. What are your thoughts, now that everything is… better, about having a kid? With me?”

“Who else would I have one with?”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head. “This is serious.”

“So you want me to be honest?”

“Always.”

She adjusts her weight in the chair, brows tugging together. “It still scares the shit out of me, but not as much as it used to.”

You nod, reaching for her hand across the table to lay your fingers over the scarred hills of her knuckles. “Can you at least just… think about it? That’s all I’m asking.”

After a breath-holding moment, she meets your gaze, lips twitching at the corners. “Yeah. I’ll think about it.”

Over the next few weeks, you give her the space to think. To weigh the pros and cons, to philosophize about the future, to dissect the feelings and issues and traumas that might influence her decision. But you notice a gradual change in her, too. Her eyes linger a bit too long on pregnant bellies, and her lips quirk at the sound of wind chime laughter, and she pauses in the street to watch the children play.

And then that change hones in on you. More often than not, her hands find the curve of your lower belly, when you’re washing dishes or cuddling in bed or simply standing around. She plays with your tits more often during sex, weighs them in her palms when you straddle her hips, traces her thumbs around your nipples. Fucks you rougher than usual, as if she might actually get you pregnant if she tries hard enough.

Her way of considering. Thinking about the future using the circumstances of your current reality. Picturing the slow swell of your belly, the full weight of your tits, coming inside you until it takes.

The idea further evolves into a mutual fantasy during sex. Tangible proof of her intrigue.

It begins after she comes home one evening a bit more prickly than normal. You chalk her frustration up to a worse-than-usual meeting, or the chill of the weather grating old injuries. You expect the palm she smooths over your belly, and the kiss she presses to the pulse of your neck, but you don’t expect her to drag you away from chopping vegetables in the kitchen to the bedroom.

She fucks you with a frantic kind of passion. Shoves your face into the bed and hikes up your hips and grinds her fake cock into you until your eyes blur with tears. She’s never been particularly vocal during sex, but that night, she talks. Babbles in that breathless voice that drives you insane.

Gonna knock you up. That’s what you want, isn’t it?

I’ll fuck this pussy every day ‘til it takes.

You’ll be such a good mama.

We’ll get you a baby, I swear. I’m gonna make it happen.

Her enthusiasm opens up a locked box that collected dust long ago. One filled with secrets, fantasies you repressed during this whole ordeal because you never thought she would reciprocate. You give as good you get. Beg her to cum inside you, ramble about how cute you'd look with your belly swelling with her baby, whine again and again about what a good parent she’ll be.

The best sex you’ve ever had as a couple. No doubt about it.

You have a very long talk after that about the blurred line between fantasy and reality, and she finally admits that the idea of a child has grown on her. Enough that she thinks about it over paperwork, and during meetings, and on the walk home. It haunts her the same way it does you.

“Only ever want a kid with you, though,” she says, with her cheek on your chest and your hand in her hair.

“I feel the same way.”

“Good to know.” A kiss pressed to the valley between your tits.

This dynamic continues for the next few months, and your longing only grows. Your pre-sleep ritual stretches to fit shared whispers of the future: the kind of parents you’ll be, wishes for your child as they grow up, the fears that still stick at the back of your brain. Sevika is terrified of becoming her father, of instilling his individualistic, paranoid ideals into your kid. You're terrified of being too lenient, of projecting the wants of your own inner child onto them.

But you talk about it, and ensure that you'll keep each other in check. That no, you won't traumatize your kid beyond saving, and yes, you've learned from your parents’ mistakes. You're in this together after all.

Finally, everything culminates into one big climax.

She strolls into the bedroom one evening—after being gone a worrying length of time past her usual hour—with a package wrapped in paper, and tosses it onto the bed with a smug grin. “Found a solution to our problem.”

You shoot up off the pillow with a start, immediately pawing for the box. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I'm serious.”

You rip off the paper and toss it aside, and there it is. The box doesn't reveal much. A collection of numbers at the corner, PROTOTYPE in big letters—

DNA delivery apparatus designed for female anatomy written across the center.

She did it. She actually fucking did it.

“Where the hell did you get this?” you ask, awe weaving into the words as you grasp the box between your hands.

“An inventor.”

“How did you get this?”

Her weight sags the mattress as she sits down behind you, hooking her chin over your shoulder, hand curling around your belly. “Councilor privileges.”

Your chin dimples with a wave of incoming tears, and you sniffle, fingers tracing each letter on the box. “This is amazing.”

“It better be. I had to buy a hextech commission.”

You cough out a surprised laugh, wiping at your wet eyes. “Oh, don't be a baby. You'll live.”

She grumbles under her breath, presses a wet kiss to your bare shoulder. A silent I love you tattooed in the lingering warmth of her lips.

The toy is different than you’re used to. Separated into two parts: a thick plug for her, covered with strange sigils, and the fake cock for you, a shimmery blue pearl slotted at the base (the same color as the scars on her face, you realize). You find a hollow tube at the head that travels the entire length of it.

“So. How does this thing work?”

“You use it to have sex.”

You turn to glare at her, scooting closer to the middle of the bed. “Obviously, smartass. I meant the magic.”

Her only response is a half-hearted shrug, hand reaching for the hem of your sleep shorts. You help her slip both them and your underwear down your legs.

Your question is quickly forgotten when she dives between your thighs, tongue hot and slick as she trails a languid lick between your labia to spread you open. Her forearm next to your hip balances her weight atop the mattress as she pulls her knees under her. She's an expert at working around the limitations of only having one arm, but sometimes sex can get a bit difficult, especially when she's too tired to hold herself up for long. It doesn’t help that she’s stubborn, and refrains from asking for help unless no other option presents itself.

(She's fallen asleep with her mouth on your pussy more times than she'd ever admit because she loves eating you out and hates confessing to her exhaustion.)

Which is why you adjust your thigh for her to lean her shoulder against, combing a hand through the silk of her hair. “Baby time?”

Her lips detach from your clit with a slick pop and a twitch of your hips, and she turns her head to nip at your inner thigh. “Baby time.”

Warmth blooms in your chest when her gaze meets yours, lips pressing to the curve of your lower belly. It's excitement and anxiety and joy and fear rolled all into one. You're going to have a child with the love of your life. Your wife. The person you cherish most in the world.

Her cheek squishes against the fat of your thigh as you blink back tears, overwhelm tightening up your throat, and you couldn't explain your headspace to her if you tried. Everything lined up perfectly to get to this moment, even down to the correct stage of your cycle.

“Why are you crying?” she asks, voice tender with concern.

“I’m just happy.” You wipe your eyes with each palm, giving a big sniff as you attempt to compose yourself. “Sorry. I feel like I'm ruining the mood.”

She hums, a wavering tone that mimics laughter. “Maybe a little.”

“Oh, fuck o—” Your voice dies out in your throat when she laves her tongue over your clit, adjusting herself once again to slide a long, thick finger into your pussy.

Sevika's good at this. Distraction. Leading you by the leash-libido away from whatever topic she'd rather you not linger on. Your brain has a habit of lingering.

She forgoes her usual teasing for the night to make quick work of your first orgasm—a record, you think. Loves building you up to a shuddering, begging mess, thighs tense against her ears and hips seeking stimulation, but her current state of anticipation holds a tangible weight. Sparks electricity on the back of your tongue.

You collapse against the bed once the aftershocks end, eyes closed, chest heaving for breath. The drawer on the nightstand slides open then shuts a moment later, her weight shifting atop the mattress. Already, you’ve been wrung like a wet cloth, slick between the thighs, limbs heavy, satiation soaking down to your marrow.

Your skin prickles at her proximity, and you open your eyes to find her now-naked form reaching for the toy—apparatus, as the inventor called it. She drops it on your stomach then picks up a bottle of half-empty lube. Holds it out for you to take.

“Here. You do the honors.”

But that can wait. You have to check something first.

With a wide grin, you slide two fingers between her legs to meet soft, plush heat, hole clenching around the pad of your middle finger, and you exhale a giddy laugh when they come away dripping. “Shit. I'm flattered, Sev.”

“I can’t help it. You’re too pretty.”

An echo of golden light from the bedside lamp displays the sheen on her lips and chin, the sweat that sticks strands of dark hair to her temples, the glass of cloud-grey eyes. Half of her bathed in shadow, a chiaroscuro of soft curves and taut muscle. She belongs on a canvas in some extravagant throne room, a museum, above your bed.

Maybe you should try your hand at painting.

You grab the toy and sit up, fingers once again finding the slick of her cunt, and she steadies herself with her hand on your shoulder, forehead tacky against the curve of your neck. Her chest rumbles with a bitten-out groan when you sink two fingers into her, arm curling around your back to tug you close. She's warm against you, smells of floral smoke from the candle that constantly burns in her office. Scorching hot between the legs, silk-smooth, so wet your fingers produce a squelch on each knuckle-deep thrust.

And then her hand grabs at your wrist, mouth rough against yours. A collision of teeth, each kiss wet and noisy, bruising in its intensity. She’s always made you feel wanted, worshipped—special. Her perfect woman since the night you two met, when she stumbled up to the bar and said some shitty one-liner that branded her name on your heart.

Falling for her was as easy as breathing, and as painful as yanking teeth.

She pulls away with a shuddering sigh, palm clammy as it follows the path of your spine. “You ready?”

You nod, slipping your fingers out of her to pop them in your mouth, sucking the salt-musk taste of her off your skin. “I've been ready.”

Once you lube up the plug side of the toy, she takes it from you and feeds it into her pussy. Shudders in time with the sudden gleam of the blue pearl, and your mouth waters at the sight of her—clit puffy and slicked-up, the coarse curls that frame her labia wet and sticky, the fake cock that hangs between her legs.

You must have been a fucking saint in your past life. Only reason for you to be so blessed in this one.

She sighs through her nose, lowers her head to look at the toy. “That's… weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird?”

With a furrowed brow, she takes a moment to consider, shifting from knee to knee. “Neither.”

“Well, it doesn't hurt or anything, right?”

She shakes her head. “Feels… prickly. Not painful, though.”

You brush a finger up its length, eyes brightening when the blue light of the pearl flickers. She sucks a breath through her teeth, hand jerking toward your wrist, but stops short of grabbing it.

“I felt that.”

Your lips curl into a smile as a wicked idea takes root, and she raises a brow at the look on your face. You fist a hand around the base of the fake cock to keep it steady, your other resting on her thick thigh, then you lean down to wrap your lips around the head. Her fingers squeeze at your shoulder, neither pushing you away nor pulling you close, as a moan bubbles up in her chest.

Yeah, you're absolutely using this thing again.

Her hand curls over the back of your head just before her hips rock forward, sinking the toy further into the wet heat of your mouth. She's got you trapped in place, right where she wants you as she fucks your face with increasing intensity. Her thrusts start out smooth and slow as she adjusts to the new sensation of pleasure, but she's always been quick to adapt, and before you know it the head of her cock teases at the back of your throat and you drool a wet spot into the sheets. She rewards you with her sighs and groans, with a tremble to her thighs when you hollow your cheeks.

The first spurt of something hot and thick on the back of your tongue makes you jolt like you've been electrocuted, and her fingers dig into the back of her head as her hips stutter and her breathing heavies and her shoulders curl toward her knees.

Inside your mouth, the toy heats, begins to almost vibrate as more of the liquid spills sticky over your tongue. She—

Oh. She's coming. One look at her pain-pleasure expression, the uptilt of her brows and twist of her mouth, clicks the pieces into place.

And then she heaves a sigh, releases your head to smooth an apologetic palm over your shoulder, huffing like she sprinted the entirety of the Lanes. You sit up and work your mouth, unsure of what to do with the… substance inside.

At your slap to her thigh, she blinks at you, the perfect picture of debauchery—low-lidded eyes and shiny cheeks and a heaving chest. You open your mouth and point inside, and her brows raise clear to her hairline. She swipes a finger over your tongue to collect the liquid, then pulls back and smears it with her thumb. Actual cum, a blue shimmer to it that resembles an oil slick. Unnatural. Magical.

You swallow it down with a wince (more about the texture than the taste), and then she's shoving her finger between your teeth, telling you to suck with a toothy, teasing grin. Then her thumb once you've cleaned the other off.

“Can't waste it, can we, honey?” she mutters, ghosts her lips over your tacky forehead, plucks at a pert nipple.

Fuck.

The pulse between your legs hammers to a heavy thump, belly tingling with the magic you just swallowed—a very odd realization, that. She just came (a mindfuck in and of itself) magic. The air sizzles with it, makes the hair on your arms stand on end.

You urge her onto her back with a hand between her tits, and she goes down without a fight. Exhales a relieved sigh when she sinks into the sheets.

“C'mere,” she says, holds out her hand for you to take. Ever-thoughtful as you straddle her hips then grab the toy to keep it still.

A set of gasps fill the room when you sink down on its length, cunt tight and slick as you clench around it—her, you suppose. Her brows tug together, jaw loose as she pants and peers down to the place your bodies meet. You've taken all of her in one glide, skin-to-skin, the curls on her mound tickling your clit.

She grits her teeth when you roll your hips, bracing your palms on her thighs. “Shit, that's—”

“Good?” you ask, grinning at the lewd noise of your cunt as you bottom out again, grinding your clit against her.

Such a drastic change in power dynamic fogs up your thoughts, activates your hindbrain until the only need that plays on repeat is making a mess of her. Wonder how many times she can fill you up before she starts shooting blanks—and if there’s a limit, you hope to find it tonight. She's always the one going mad with power, but the introduction of your new toy leaves her pliant beneath you. Too overwhelmed by the fluttering silk of your pussy to focus on anything else, eyes glassy and glittering as they gaze up at you.

Your hips melt into a steady rhythm, a smooth rise and a rough downstroke, over and over again as heat starts its slow coil in the pit of your belly. The air thickens, heavy, almost humid on each inhale as the toy inside you buzzes to life once again.

“How's my pussy feel, Sev?”

“Fuck, don't—” she pants out a moan, hand pawing at your hip as her chin tilts back to expose the line of her neck, “gonna cum.”

“That good, huh?” You roughen up your thrusts until your ass slaps against her thighs, each movement of your hips accompanied by a loud squelch. “God, ‘m so wet. Needed this so bad.”

She whines, fingers tightening around your waist. “Shit, slow down.”

“Cum inside me. Please.”

Her grip disappears from your waist, choosing instead to fist the sheets so tight her knuckles creak, and you lean forward, steady yourself upright with a hand on each of your shoulders. Effective in pressing her down, keeping her still.

Not her hips, though. They meet you thrust-for-thrust, jarring you atop her, each stroke forcing the breath from your lungs.

“Gonna give me a baby?” you ask, voice weak and wavering as your rhythm grows sloppy.

Your thighs burn, and you’ll no doubt wake up sore as hell tomorrow, but the anticipation of her looming orgasm pushes you through the pain. She's back to her old self now, expression a scowl of concentration, one-track mind overriding her pleasure to focus on—

“I'll give you as many as you want. Gonna keep you filled up ‘til it takes.” Your hand shoots down to your clit as she babbles on about the fantasies you discussed months prior. You’re only slightly frustrated about how even her voice sounds compared to yours. “Might sneak you into my office, fuck you on my desk. I know you’d like that.”

You nod, fingers circling over your clit in a frantic blur as the coil in your belly threatens to snap, arms and legs twitching in preparation for something soul-rending. “Please, Sev, I'm so close. Please—”

She hits her peak first at the sound of your pleading, a rough hand on your hip pinning you down, fully seating you on her cock. Pants and groans beneath you as wave after wave of thick cum fills you up. Your brain whites out somewhere between the beginning and end of her orgasm as you crash into your own, almost folding in half from its intensity, insides clenching just shy of pain around the toy as your body instinctively tries to milk it.

In the aftermath, you collapse atop her, face seeking out the curve of her neck for post-sex comfort. A ritual of yours, something about her smell that slows your heartbeat and calms your breathing.

“That was…” you begin, adjusting your hips as the prickly feeling she mentioned earlier settles in the pit of your stomach, “wow.”

She sighs, fingers trailing down the center of your back. “Yeah.”

Correction: this was the best sex you've ever had as a couple. Baby-making aside, the new sensations and fantasies and forms of pleasure introduced a level of excitement you didn't even know intrigued you. Almost overwhelming in its unpredictability, but isn't that half the fun? Experimenting?

Yeah, you learned a lot of new things about yourself tonight.

The comfort of your cuddling is interrupted by the sticky spill of her cum around the toy, leaking out of you in slow rivulets. With a huff, you rise onto your knees, the fake cock bobbing between her legs. The tinged-blue liquid drips onto her stomach, and you reach down to plug yourself with two fingers.

“You're making a mess,” she mutters, eyes closed as if floating through a light doze. “And you're wasting it.”

You lean in close to her face, until you can count each individual lash that brushes over her cheek. “Are you falling asleep?”

“Resting my eyes.”

So, falling asleep. Got it.

“No, we gotta shower. Get up.”

She grunts, mouth curling into a pout when you yank at her arm.

Eventually, she gets up, and you waddle over to the bathroom with her trailing behind. The night ends with a lazy shower and a quick change of the bed sheets. By the time Sevika collapses onto the mattress, she's half-dead, barely able to pull the covers over herself before she's snoring into the pillow.

Well. There's always next time.

She stays true to her word, though. Fucks you every single day like clockwork, and passes out shortly after the first round every single time—an obvious effect of the magic on her body that burns your whole shooting blanks idea to ash. But oh, she milks that round for all it's worth. Makes you cum on her fingers and tongue until you're begging for her cock. Your new favorite position leaves you biting the sheets with your ass in the air, her hand heavy on your back to preserve the arch of your spine.

Instinct. Primal. Pure brain-stem urges.

Sometimes she makes you stay there after you're finished while she lights up a cigarette and feeds her cum back into your pussy.

I work hard making this stuff. Can't let it go to waste.

You might go crazy. Start salivating at the color blue after a month of nightly sessions. Can barely stroll through the streets of neon-light Zaun now without getting wet. It's ridiculous, but you're ruined. The lockbox has been opened and the contents spilled out and there's no forcing them back in.

But above all: you want your child already. More than the fun, kinky sex and the magic toys. You want another human running around your empty house, with their own thoughts and opinions and interests. Who would they act like, look like, think like most? You just hope they get Sevika's eyes.

“It'll happen,” she says, cuddling you in bed with her arm tight around your shoulders. “We have to give it time.”

Admittedly, you're being a bit dramatic, blubbering and crying against her. But the fear began to set in a few days ago after two months of trying with zero results.

“What if it doesn't work?”

“It will.”

If your sore tits and emotional instability and fatigue mean anything, then your period should start soon—another month wasted.

Except it doesn't.

By your own calculations, you're now four days out from its start and not a single speck of blood. You've developed nausea, though. Threw up after your last weekend date to the cafe you love so much.

Your body feels… off. The best way to describe it. An ill-fitting skin suit, maybe. Wrong and weird. At first, you chalk it up to wishful thinking, a placebo effect borne from your longing.

But Sevika notices. Of course she does.

Some of her new privileges pass onto you as a Councilor's wife, one of those being actual medical care. Doctors, hospital rooms, actual treatments aside from the wait it out mentality so common in Zaun.

So here you sit, in the exam room of some doctor's office Sevika dragged you to, jiggling your leg as you wait for the pregnancy test to come back. Her hand curls around yours, thumb soothing over the swell of your knuckles. A calming presence you desperately need right now.

The receptionist out front only gave you three scowling glares as you signed in, and the nurse that took your vitals was only a little rough as she removed the medical equipment from your arm. All in all, a less volatile experience than you expected, though you think the tall, muscular woman standing guard over your shoulder helped tamper bad attitudes. No need for these pompous people to add to your sky-high stress level.

You find it funny how differently the world sees Sevika. To you, she's composed of starry eyes and teasing smiles and soft touches. She smells like home, holds your heart in her hand and has yet to squash it in her fist. So different to the way everyone eyes her warily, scampers out of her path, whispers about her behind her back. Wherever she goes, the room holds it breath.

But she’s your wife, your love, your honey. The other mother to your future child.

For the love of Janna, please be pregnant.

The door opens with a faint click, and the doctor steps in with a small smile. Your fingers grip tight around Sevika's palm, spine straightening in your seat. A wave of nausea brews in your stomach, ribs a cage around the thumping rhythm of your heart.

You’re terrified. Told her this was a bad idea, that a test from the markets would be just as reliable, but she insisted.

Please. Please give us this.

The doctor takes a seat behind her desk then sets down your chart in front of her. “Congratulations, dear. You’re having a baby.”

And the whole world shifts.

[luvnette]

-𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑤𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚-

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: g!pSevika x Fem!Reader

𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡/𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: NSFW, mdni, modern au, rough but loving sex, Sevika has a dick, top!Sevika/sub!reader, cum eating, mommy kink, edging, clothed sex, teasing, fingering (r! receiving), missionary, aftercare

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: You decide to surprise your girlfriend with a sweet treat, but you two quickly forget about eating.

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠: 1.4k

It was a quiet evening. The golden sunlight fills the kitchen with a soft warmth and your favorite podcast is on while you pour the cream you just made over some strawberries.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” Sevikas voice echoes through your shared apartment, before she walks into the kitchen and hugs you from behind, kissing your cheek gently.

“Hey honey, how was your day?” you smile, leaning into her touch.

“Hm, exhausting. You know how the council is.” she sighs. “Need help?”

“Not really, but you could set the table”

Sevika grabs two bowls, forks, and a bottle of champagne and places them on the couch table. She pours two glasses and sits down on the couch. You join her in the living room, filling the bowls with strawberries and cream. Sevika pulls you close and turns on the TV to watch some stupid reality show.

~ఌ*:・ﾟ

You don’t quite notice the cream on your face, focusing on the Television. But you do notice that Sevika was staring at you for whatever reason.

“Everything alright?” you ask, raising a brow at her.

“Just.. there’s something on your right cheek.”

“Oh”

You knew exactly why she’s glaring at you like this, her voice all low and flustered. Sevika was tipsy- and horny. And to taunt her some more, you wipe the white fluid away and slowly lick it off the back of your hand, giving her a half-lidded look.

“Damn tease..” Sevika put her bowl down and crawled on top of you, pinning your body against the couch to kiss you long and deep.

Her hardened bulge pressed against your throbbing core, making you mewl against her lips. You wrap your legs around her lower back, pulling her closer to get some kind of friction.

“Needy, huh? Use your words pretty girl.”

“Fuck me..” you mumble while giving her another kiss, but she pulls away.

“Mh mh, you can do better than that.”

“Fuck me, mommy.. please..” you beg, her lips crashing into yours once more.

Sevika pins your wrists with her mechanic hand above your head, her flesh fingers finding their way into your pants. She starts to rub your soaked panties with her index finger, making you squirm underneath her.

“God, how the hell are you this wet?” she chuckles before she adds another finger, massaging your dripping hole more eager.

“Nghh.. more-” you moan, desperately trying to free yourself from Sevikas grip.

“Such a naughty slut.. so eager to be fucked..” she huffs, biting your neck, leaving marks and hickeys.

And just when the rubber band in your tummy is about to snap, Sevika stops her movements.

“Mhhhh.. Sev..” a hitched cry leaves your throat, the now missing warmth of her fingers driving you insane.

“Shhh, be patient love.” Sevika sits up and takes your clothes off except for your panties.

She undresses herself shortly after, revealing her hard, aching length. The sight of the precum dripping out of it’s tip makes your cheeks turn red.

“Like what you see, hm?” Sevika teases, slowly stroking her big shaft.

You give her a slight nod, earning a low chuckle from her before she leans into your heat, tenderly kissing your clothed entrance.

“You taste so sweet” she humms, carefully pulling your lacy underwear aside. “Such a pretty cunt, all ready for me..” Sevika removes your panties with her teeth and brushes her thumb over your swollen clit.

“Ahh..” you moan, her teasing making your mind all hazy and mushy.

“Ohh, I know baby.” she coos in a sickeningly sweet tone. She starts to kiss up your body, first your pussy, up to your belly, further to your tits and then your lips, smirking into the kiss.

Sevika carefully starts to thrust her dick against your wet core, covering it in your juices before she shoves it inch by inch into your throbbing slit.

“Sevi.. too.. big- hmm..” you babble, a tear forming in your eye.

“Well, use your safeword then sweetie- Ngh..” she groans, wiping the tear off your cheek.

But the only thing that comes out of your mouth are whimpers, your soft walls wrapping around Sevikas cock, filling your hole perfectly.

“That’s what I thought.. Fuck, my good little girl..” she whispers, starting to thrust her hips back and forth, her dick pushing in and out of your tight cunt.

“Ahhh.. faster!” you whimper, your nails digging into Sevikas back, pressing her boobs against yours- until she carefully pulls the hair on the back of your head with her right hand.

“Ouch, Sevika!”

“Didn’t I tell you to.. mmh.. be patient? hm?” she grunts, her pace becoming rougher and rougher.

“I’m so.. sorry!.. Please, make me- ah.. cum!” you plead, your nails leaving scratches all over her shoulders.

“Mhh.. that’s right.. beg for it..”

Sevika rams into you a few more times, her tip hitting your cervix with every single thrust until you feel the torturing pleasure of your climax building up again.

“Ah- hm.. Ahh, mommy.. so.. close, nghh..”

“Doing so good.. cum for mommy..” she murmurs, her hand coming down to your lower region to rub your clit.

The added sensation sends you over the edge.

“-Vi..ka! Ahh!..” you moan, coming undone. Your walls tightly clench around Sevikas length, covering it in your juices.

“Oh.. god..” she groans and with another few sloppy thrusts, her orgasm follows shortly after yours, her hot sticky semen filling you up. “Shit..”

Sevika carefully pulls out, the emptiness inside you making you whimper. She goes down on you to lick along your sensitive slit, the excess cum that dripped out of your hole now on her tongue. She gently picks you up and kisses you deeply, giving you a taste of the mixed juices.

“Let’s get some rest, hm?” she says and carries you into the bedroom, placing you on the soft mattress.

Sevika disappears in the bathroom for a moment and comes back with a warm wet cloth. She lies down beside you, slowly wiping any stains off your overstimulated body.

“I love you, Sevi..” you whisper, tracing the scars on her chest.

“I love you too, my girl..” she smiles, kissing your forehead before you two slowly drift off to sleep.

[xfgpng]

control …

— [ nsfw ] kissing, dry humping, first kiss + they’re both virgins

— wc :: 1.2k

caleb likes to think he’s in control of everything that happens around him. he’s always been pretty good at controlling his emotions and schooling his expressions and he tries not to overreact.


that’s the problem with her, she throws him off balance in the best and worst ways and it leaves him feeling so unsettled.

the thing about college, it’s supposed to be the best years of your life and he doesn’t know if he agrees or disagrees with that. if he really thinks about it, it’s bullshit but he knows why he feels that way.

he keeps himself composed most days, he has no reason to act out of character but this is something new to him.

caleb wasn’t naive enough to think this would never happen, he just always thought he’d be able to handle it well but he cannot. his hands feel clammy and his hot around his neck. is this even normal? he doesn’t fucking know.

he wants to lie and say he’s completely normal about her having other guy friends but he’s definitely not. his skin crawls whenever they touch her shoulder, grab at her wrists even if it’s completely platonic and innocent.


he especially hates when they lean in to close to talk to her when they’re at a party and the music is too loud. those are the nights caleb avoids alcohol like it personally offended him.

he cannot trust himself to be sober in these situations, he doesn’t want to imagine what he’d do with his evol even if the thought sends a thrill through him. he knows he has a problem, he’s just not going to deal with it.

not in a healthy way at least.

“caleb?”

he snaps out his thoughts, smiling down at where she’s laying on the floor in his dorm room. she’s supposed to be studying but she’s distracted and he shouldn’t enable her but he always does. she’s just too pretty, she has a face you cannot say no to and you’d be insane to disagree.


he’d like someone to disagree, that would be a fun day for him and a very unfortunate one for them.

“i’m listening” he lies. if he had been, he would’ve heard what she asked him and understand why she’s being all shy right now.

“wait.. what?” he sits up, looking at her properly. he definitely has a problem if he’s thinking about her so much and she’s right next to him.

“.. it’s stupid” she frowns

“it’s not” he reassures. he means it sincerely because he is willing to do whatever she wants. he hopes she doesn’t know that.

“i just .. i haven’t had my first kiss yet and i know some people think it’s a big deal and maybe it is but how will i know?” she looks up at him and she looks so upset by this so he tries not to panic.


was she seeing someone? did she like someone and that’s why she was thinking about kissing?

caleb could tell her it’s too early to worry about that and maybe she could just focus on college but that would be selfish of him. so selfish.

“i could teach you” he says and it’s out before his brain can even process any of that shit but it’s too late now because her eyes widen and she sits up so fast.

“what?” she asks because even he can’t believe what he just said.

“i just mean if you’re that curious” he smiles, playing it cool.

“you’d do that for me?” she stands now, moving to sit on his bed right in front of him and he will kill his roommate if the fucker comes back now.

“you know i would” he shrugs like it’s nothing even though his heart his beating so fast.

and that’s the thing about control, he always believed he was in control of everything in his life but the moment their lips touch, he feels his entire world shift and he doesn’t know if he’s breathing but she trusts him.

he has his hands on the side of her face before he can stop himself and she gasps softly into the kiss that he can’t help but lightly bite her bottom lip. she likes that, or so it seems because she doesn’t push him away.

her lips taste like the peach flavoured lipgloss she likes to wear and her skin is soft beneath his fingertips.

“is this okay?” he asks, running his thumb across her lower lip. she’s so beautiful, it hurts.

“yes…” she nods, “… can we do more?”

“more?” he tries not to show how excited that makes him.

“with tongue” she whispers

he doesn’t need to be told twice and her moan makes it hard to focus on anything other than her lips against his and how hard he suddenly is.

he slips his tongue into her mouth and she learns pretty quickly, he hasn’t even kissed anyone either but he’s seen enough videos and he’s always been a pretty fast learner himself and he would be damned if she had this experience with anyone that wasn’t him.

she moves closer, her arms around his neck and he can’t pull her onto his lap. if he’s being honest, he’s been hard since she said yes to the kiss but he would never want to overwhelm her. her first kiss is special because it’s them, he wouldn’t rush this.


that is something he can control.

“does that feel good?” he asks because her comfort is the most important thing to him.

“yes” she sounds less shy now, more like herself and she’s smiling so sweetly he can’t help but lean back in and this time she takes the lead and he likes how she lightly pulls at his hair. he didn’t know he’d be into that but he’s learning a lot about himself since being in college.

she climbs onto his lap on her own and if she feels how hard he is, she doesn’t comment on it which he appreciates. she’s always been considerate and just so perfect he thinks he might combust.

“put your hands .. on my waist” she tells him and he nods, as if he’s in some sort of trance now.

he’s not embarrassed about the grinding or the fact that he cums in his pants 10 minutes later. he’s still a fucking virgin and she doesn’t seem to care because she moans loud enough for him that he knows everyone down the hall heard her and only a small part of him hates that, he knows when he’s alone he’s going to be pissed that they heard how pretty she sounds but right now he wants to keep kissing her.

[nanaslutt]

okey so brainrot: this is RLLY WEIRD IM SORRY but the reader is like innocent/shy and doesn't really have any experiences regarding sex so like one day she asks satoru to "show her" how to touch herself but he demonstrates it on a fruit (like on an orange? peach? or smth like that) then things get heated😉. I DONT KNOW IF I EXPLAINED THIS WELL

Gojo teaching you to touch yourself on an orange.. and things escalate..

contains: fem reader, teasing, sexual tension, fingering, guided masturbation, experienced gojo, readers first orgasm, he talks you through it, 99% of this is dirty talk and nasty dialogue

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

*Ding* the sound of a video recording starting chimed from Gojo’ phone, “Okay okay, say that again for me?~” The white haired man cooed cockily.

“Gojo you asshole! Ugh, forget it, I was stupid to ask you.” You threw your arms up in defeat, rolling your eyes as you turned to walk out of his room, embarrassed.

“Noooonono,” he cried, the chime sounded again, ending the video, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t tease you like that~” The man was suddenly behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso and rocking you side to side, “Forgive me, I was wrong okayy~” he tried to reason, he really didn’t want to blow this.

After all, his cute little friend had just burst into his room and confessed that she had never touched herself before and was wanting some guidance; knowing gojo had some experience with women under his belt, you came to him for help.

“To make it up to you, I won’t even make you pay for this session how bout that?” he grinned behind you annoyingly, poking his head out to the side of you so you could see his expression through your peripheral vision.

“What are you some sex therapist?” you laughed, making him sigh in relief. “I’ll be anything you need me to be~” he wiggled his eyebrows, making you shrug his heavy body off of you in faux disgust.

“So, you a visual learner? or more hands on?” He asked when you turned your body to face him once more, letting him drag you so you were sitting on the end of his bed.

“I’m not uh.. really sure when it comes to this.” you confessed. “You’re not sure of much huh?” he teased, making you punch his shoulder lightly, “haha, you’ll know soon if you’re a hands on learner or not.” he said ambiguously.

But you trusted gojo with this for some reason..

..which might’ve been a mistake.

You did not anticipate how riled up this situation would get you. You’ve always found gojo attractive; who didn’t; but you came to him because nothing had ever happened between the two of you before, you were friends, you were sure the atmosphere wouldn’t feel so embarrassing but—

“This is your clit, you wanna make little circles on it like this with one or two fingers,” The white haired man spoke, currently holding half an orange in one hand, and rubbing tight circles onto the suggestive looking slit of the fruit with the other.

Gojo was sat in front of you on his chair while you sat on the bed, his legs spread as he held the fruit out in front of him and instructed you on it.

“Don’t wanna go too fast either, wanna work yourself up a bit.” He spoke, looking up at you every so often to make sure you were paying attention; this was important after all.

“If you start getting too needy, rub your fingers down here-“ he dragged his long digits down to the middle of the fruit, presumably where the opening to your pussy would be.

He rubbed his fingers on the outside of the slit, in a ‘come hither’ motion; not inserting his fingers; just caressing them on the outside, occasionally rubbing them back and forth over the opening.

“You paying attention?” he checked, snapping you out of your stupor as your eyes flitted up to his, you were hoping the blush on your face wasn’t as evident as it felt. You just gave a curt nod at his question, not trusting your voice to sound steady right now.

The longer and longer this went on, the needier and needier you we’re feeling between your own legs, a heat was growing between them and you were praying gojo hadn’t noticed that your legs were crossed not in comfort but because you had been steadily squeezing them together and rubbing your pussy against the rough denim stitch your jeans made for awhile now.

“Good, it gets a little more interesting now so make sure you’re paying attention.” he says, waiting for you nod again before he continued.

“This is your vaginal opening, this is where you would put your little fingers inside yourself when you masturbate.” he said, “or get fucked heh,” he adds vulgarly, making himself smile.

“Start with one finger, especially since you’ve never done anything here before right?” He asks, still nonchalantly rubbing his fingers against the slit while he waits for you to once again acknowledge his words; his piercing blue eyes staring bullets through you as he does so.

“Y-yeah.” You verbally answered, silently begging for him to continue. If you tried hard enough, you could almost feel him touching you like that instead of the stupid fruit, who you were unnecessarily jealous of at the moment.

“It’s gonna be tight, and it might not feel like much at first-“ You held your breath as he spoke, waiting for his next moves. Gojo looked down at the fruit, teasing a circle around the slit one last time before he pressed the tip of his finger into the center deeper and deeper, making juices spill out around it. “But a couple inches inside, there’s gonna be a little rough patch.” he tells you.

“A rough patch?” you repeat, confused. “Your g-spot.” he answered, “It’s gonna make you feel soo good.” he smirks, looking up at you from his ministrations on the fruit. “All you gotta do is ruuub~ like this-“ he demonstrates, massaging upwards inside the slit of the fruit, making vulgar squelching noises emanate around the room.

“It’ll even sound similar if you’re doing it right,” he adds, giggling to himself. “Can you do both?” you ask, hoping the breathlessness of your words wasn’t able to be picked up by Gojo’s ears.

He tilts his head to the side for a second, questioning what you mean before his eyes light up when he fully registers what you were asking, “Ohhh~ You want me to show you how to touch your clit and finger yourself at the same time?” he asked, a slightly mocking lilt to his voice.

“Oh I just- I wanted to know if it was possible..” you shyly clarified, looking away for a second, suddenly way too aware of his eyes on you.

“Aww~ of course it’s possible!” he beamed. You watched his thumb come up and pet the top of the slit of the orange, where your clit would be, and rubbed back and forth when his fingers thrusted out of the slit. “You can use two hands if this is too uncomfortable,” He adds.

“Most women cant cum unless you give ur little clit some attention, even with how good touching yourself inside can feel.” Gojo spoke.

“Have you ever-“ you gulped, “made someone cum from just the inside?” you asked, taking the brief pause he took to answer to add, “I-I just wanna know if it’s p-possible is all!”

“Oh yeah~” he answers in a heartbeat after your last sentence, “Even made a couple squirt from just the inside too.” he brags.

“Shit,” you accidentally mumble, not meaning to actually say that our loud, “What was that?” he asks, playing dumb when he mentally recorded the word that fell from your lips, making his ego swell.

“Oh n-nothing.” you brushed it off, waving your hand in front of yourself, urging him to continue his teachings. “Make sure when your fingers are inside that pump them in-“ he slowly drags his fingers out of the fruit, juices coating them, making you squeeze your legs together at the lewd image, “and out, that you also curl them inside at the same time.” he instructs.

“That’s how you’re gonna make your g-spot happy and get the most of your pleasure.” Gojo finishes.

Your mouth was completely dry at this point, leg bouncing in impatience, still subtly squeezing your thighs together for even the smallest bit of relief while you watched the juices drip down his lengthy fingers.

“Well that’s about it for the basics, I think you can go pretty far with what i’ve taught you, if you can remember it all.” He giggles, raising from the chair and moving to set the fruit on the table.

“Wait!” you say a little too loudly, hopping he didn’t sense the need in your voice, “Um.. I think I might be a hands on learner..” You confess, “I’m still a little confused..”

Gojo stops in his tracks, retracting his hand that’s holding the fruit back towards his body as a sinister smirk grows on his face. “Yeah?” he asks, cheering internally when you not coyly.

“Alright then, class is back in session!!” he throws his hands up, walking over to you.

When you think he’s going to sit back down in the chair he actually walks past it, and past you. You turn your head to see where he was going but your muscles freeze and tense up when you feel the bed dip behind you, followed by his strong chest pressing snugly against your back.

“This okay?” he asks before he continues, to which you nod. “Need to hear you say it, sweets.” You blush at the nickname, glad he can’t see your face like this, “Yes, this is okay.” you confirm softly.

“Alright, here” he holds the fruit out to you, and you take it in both your smaller hands. “I’m gonna walk you through it, that sound okay?” he checks, smiling to himself when you let out a meek ‘mhm.’

He pulls the both of you further back on the bed, so he’s resting comfortably upright against the bed frame, and you following suit against his chest. “Comfortable?” the while haired man whispers far too close to your ear.

“Y-yes,” you confirm once more, the hitch of your breath made him smile to himself.

“Okayy~ Ideally you would want to work yourself up by playing with your chest first,, slowly drag your fingers down your body, touch yourself over your pants and all that— but we only have an orange so this will have to do!” he says, not realizing (?) how hot his words were making you.

“Start by slowly touching your clit.” He spoke, as if you were really touching yourself right now. Your shaky fingers came down to find the top of the slit, rubbing one finger against where you guessed your clit would be, as he watched intently over your shoulder.

“Yeah, right there good job.” he praised, making you wish you were back to sitting on the bed with your legs crossed so you could squeeze them together. It would be a little too risky to try anything when he was so close to you, you bet he could hear your heartbeat beating out of your chest from how the two of you were squished together right now.

“A little faster now.” he instructed, licking his lips behind you as he felt your breath pick up when you drew faster circles against the fruit, wet ‘schlick’ noises echoing in your ears.

“Like this?” you asked, switching up the direction of the circles every so often, “Oh yeah, you’re a pro,” he giggled into your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine, “You sure you’ve never touched yourself before?”

“Well I have but it.. it didn’t feel like much.” you confessed, blushing at your own revealing words. “I see..” he ponders, cerulean eyes focused on your smaller fingers playing with the fruit.

“I have an idea, something that might help you understand a little better, if your open to it,” he pauses you, his big hand coming to stop your movements against the orange.

“Um, what is it?” you ask hesitantly. The white haired man leaned a little too close for comfort, making you whine out loud when he whispered, “You trust me?” into the shell of your ear.

Truthfully, Gojo had been hard from the moment you asked him to teach you how to touch yourself. Stealing glances at your thighs pressing together not so subtly when he was talking you through step by step how to pleasure yourself, watching you suck your lip into your mouth when his words became a little too dirty, how your breath picked up when he inserted his fingers into the slit of the fruit.

He was losing his mind, his patience was wearing increasingly thinner and thinner at your reactions, he knew exactly what he was doing to you, and your obliviousness was making his cock drip pre steadily into his boxers.

Thank god for his baggy sweater or you might’ve (100% would’ve) noticed the huge hard on he was sporting in his sweats. He was surprised you didn’t say anything when he was pressed against your back, assuming you were too enthralled and overwhelmed with what was going on to notice.

“I trust you.” you responded honestly, making his cock twitch against the fabric that confined it.

“I’m gonna touch this fruit just how I just showed you, and you’re going to mimic me, on yourself.” He whispered, his hot breath against the shell of your ear making you shiver.

“R-right here? now?” you asked clarifying his words, slight panic and embarrassment seeping into your tone. “I saw you rubbing your thighs together, you’re aching for it, right? What better time to practice getting off when you’re actually all worked up?” He made a good point, you’ve been wanting to touch yourself for half an hour now, you were sure you had completely soaked through your panties by this point.

You made a sound of embarrassment, eyes darting around the room at him having exposed you, “Awww heh, don’t be embarrassed, I’m in the same boat.” he confessed, trying to comfort you, “Been so hard since you asked me for help.”

His words did little to comfort you, making you even more flustered as you covered your eyes with the hand you weren’t holding the orange in, “Okay- just.. just do something, please.” you begged, not being able to take the throbbing between your own legs anymore.

“Okay okay, all you gotta do is follow my lead, kay?” he clarifies, grabbing your wrist and pulling off of your face so he could see your expression from the side. When he heard you let out a meek ‘okay’ he reached for the orange and set it down on the bed for a moment.

“Go ahead and take off your pants for me,, leave your panties on.” Came Gojo’s first instructions. You followed, leaning forward and away from his chest, your fingers worked quickly at undoing your button and zipper, sliding your fingers underneath the waistband as you pulled the garment off your body, revealing your soft-looking skin to Gojos eyes.

When you leaned back against him he dragged the tips of his fingers along your thighs, his assumption of your soft skin becoming true as he dragged his digits all the way up to your hips, gripping your waist for a moment before he complimented, “So fucking soft.”

“Spread your legs pretty,” His soothing voice told you, staring intently between your legs, wishing he had a better view, but after this little scene he had high hopes he would have no problem getting a closer look at you.

You did as you were told, you parted your knees, feet propped up on the bed as you waited with bated breath for his next instruction, feeling yourself throb behind the drenched fabric.

He reached for the fruit again, holding it with both hands in front of you, as he started tapping with one long finger on the ‘clit’ of the orange. When you didn’t move your own finger to repeat him he pats your pelvis lightly with his hand, “I know i’m addicting to watch, but you gotta touch yourself too.” He laughs, making you snap out of your stupor as you forgot you were supposed to be mimicking him.

“S-sorry, do it again.” you request, really focusing on his fingers against the fruit this time while you started sliding your own fingers inside your panties.

“Uh-uh” he warned, his voice alone stopping your hand in its tracks, “Over your panties, I’ll tell you when to touch yourself directly, I’ll take care of everything.” He explains, leaving a small peck against the side of your head.

“Alright, just pay attention that’s all you gotta do.” Gojo starts up again, tapping his fingers on the fruit and this time you follow him, tapping your finger over your wet panties, right against your clit.

The little stimulation alone was so intense, after being worked up for so long this relief was much needed. “Feels good to touch yourself after being so horny huh?” He spoke, like he was reading your mind.

‘Mhm’ you respond, letting your body relax against him, your head coming back to lay against his chest as you let yourself feel what he was allowing you to.

“I bet it does..” Gojo smirks, looking at your lithe shaky fingers tapping softly against your clothed mound. After a couple of seconds he decided to press against the fruit, starting up the small circles, “lightly.” He reminded.

You followed suit, the circles felt worlds better than the tapping, the consistent pressure and pattern was making you dizzy. The first actual whimper of the night left your lips and it made Gojo’s cock twitch in his pants.

He cooed at you when you squeezed your eyes shut, mouth dropping open in a small o shape while you continued your ministrations, “Cant follow directions with your eyes shut can you? Or you got some kinda super power I’m unaware of~?” he joked, making you crack your eyes open and look at his fingers again.

You noticed he had picked up his pace, you were unsure of when he did but you were happy you noticed now. You were appreciative at getting to touch yourself but were growing needy with the slow pace of his fingers. “F-fuck.” You gasped out, your hips bucking into your finger as you quickened the movement.

“Talk to me, how’s it feel.” Gojo was growing impatient himself, he loved teasing you and he knew he should take this slow especially since it was your fist time touching yourself properly— but the thought of pressing your back down into a mean arch while he just pulled your panties aside and fucked his cock into you at the hilt was constantly in the back of his mind.

He loved teasing his sex partners, but he’s never done anything like this before. Taking it this slow and instructing someone like this was new to him. It was so intimate, and so soft, and his dick really fucking liked it.

“F-feels so good, I- I wanna take my panties off.” you confessed, your ass bumping against his hard on every time your hips humped against your finger. “Yeah? Wanna touch your wet pussy directly?” He spoke, biting his lip as he held back a groan.

“Yes-yes- please..” You begged, the way he was talking was making your need to have something inside you— to feel more—so much worse.

“Soon, I promise.” He said, rubbing his long fingers against the slid of the fruit, making quiet squelching noises as he ran his finger up and down the length of it. He smiled to himself when you listened quicker this time, you were catching on.

You rubbed two fingers over the length of your pussy, moaning when he stopped his movements and pressed on and off against the hole of the fruit, where the opening of your pussy would be.

You repeated the action, feeling the fabric of your wet panties get pushed against the entrance of your little hole, “I cant tell if those sounds are you, or the fruit.” Gojo laughed breathlessly, becoming dizzy at the squelching that became louder and louder in his ears.

“Gojo..” you wined needily into the air. “Okay, okay,” His resolve cracked much faster than it normally would’ve. He knew he was the one in control right now but it felt like you had him on a leash, controlling his every move. Just a couple of wines from you was enough to make him fold, giving in to what you wanted.

He grinned watching you hastily remove your panties and spreading your legs once more, being so obedient by not immediately touching yourself and instead digging your nails into your thighs and waiting for his fingers to move against the orange.

He wanted to see how long you could hold out, but his dick and head alike were yelling at him to move his own fingers so he could watch you touch yourself, so that’s exactly what he did. Using two long fingers he rubbed hard circles again the fruit, his giggles shaking your body when you jumped into action with no hesitation, rubbing and pinching your clit between your fingers as you slid them back and forth, spelling letters and drawing shapes on it— whatever gojo did, you did.

“Fuck Gojo, this feels so good-“ you moaned, fighting the urge to let your head fall back as you felt an unfamiliar coil tighten itself in your tummy.

“I know baby I know.” His voice spoke with need, taking all four of his fingers and smacking them against the entire fruit, just so you would repeat him so he could hear how wet you were. “Oh shiit, you’re fucking drenched.” He groaned, his eyes briefly rolling back into his head before he started rubbing little circles again.

“This turning you on? huh?” He spoke, “You like when I show you how to treat your little pussy?” His words made you moan, going off of his instruction and quickening the pace of your fingers against yourself, “I know you wanna cum but you gotta slow down, I didn’t speed up my fingers so you don’t get to either~” Gojo reminded.

Being the obedient girl you were, you slowed your fingers down, “Sorry, ‘m sorry,” you apologized profusely, “It’s alright,” He smiled, “It just feels so good huh?” Again, it was like he was reading your mind.

“So good, s-so so good.” you whine. “Let’s make you feel ever better, huh?” Gojo spoke against your ear, his breathy laugh tickling your skin. He dragged his fingers down to the slit of the fruit, just teasing the entrance, watching your fingers do the same.

“I cant go as deep on my model here, but when I put them inside, I want you to go deep okay?” He said. “Okay, okay.” You rush, anxious but excited to have something inside of you.

“Good girl, such a good listener.” He praised, making your cunt clench around nothing. “Okay, here we go~” Gojo slowly pushed a single finger into the fruit, his jaw dropping with a smile when he watched your smaller finger insert itself into your walls.

“Yeahhh, how does that feel?” He asks, his cock dripping out more pre into his boxers, throbbing and twitching against its confines. “Fuck.. ‘s tight.” you whine, making him groan into the air.

“Yeah? Can you feel yourself twitching?” Gojo is trying to pull as many details out of you as he can, his cock was aching for it. “Y-yes, so much- ngh-“ you choke on a moan when you start to slide your finger it in and out, following Gojo’s lead.

“Remember to curl your finger twords the top of your tummy when you put it inside,” He instructs, watching your body jolt when you follow his instruction. “Oh fu-“ you cut yourself off with a breathless moan when you feel it— your gspot.

You’ve never felt anything like this before, it almost felt more intense than touching your clit, but drastically different, you didn’t know what part was your favorite— you were becoming enthralled with your own body.

“Fuck it- it feels so good Gojo-“ you whine, turning your head against his chest so you’re making eye contact with him. “I know baby I knoww~” He cooes down at you, shaking his head.

“Put another finger when you can take it, it’ll feel so much better.” he reveals, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth while he waited with bated breath as you pulled out your finger, covered in your juices— which made him grown— before you reinserted it, this time with your ring finger joining in tandem.

“Ohmygod-“ you cry, “It’s s-so much tighter gojo-“ you looked back down at his fingers, mimicking his increasingly rough pace as he looses his mind a bit at your use of his last name.

“Satoru baby, call me satoru.” He desperately needed to hear you say his name properly, every cell in his body was aching for it. “Sa-toru! Toru fuck!” you whine. His eyes roll back, his head falling suit and bumping against the headboard at his name leaving your lips.

“Yeah, keep saying my name sweet thing,” he groaned, not able to stop himself from humping against your lower back any longer, the air around you becoming increasingly thicker at how aroused the two of you were becoming.

Suddenly something snapped inside Gojo and he discarded the orange on the floor, wrapping one strong arm around your torso while he brought his juice soaked fingers to your lips, tapping them for you to open up for him.

“Yesss, good fucking girl, don’t stop your fingers- fuckkk-“ The white haired man groaned when your tongue eagerly licked around his fingers, he groaned at the warmth of your mouth, pushing his fingers as far as you would let him into your mouth, coughing a bit around them when they tickled the back of your throat.

“Play with your clit too sweetie, wanna see you cum all over your fingers.” He directed, keeping his fingers snug in your mouth as you moaned and whined around them, his other hand gripping the side of your waist strong enough to leave bruises as your other hand joined the mix on your pussy, rubbing quick circles with perfect pressure right against your clit.

“Fuck, you feel it? You gonna cum?” He groaned when your body jerked more frequently, breath coming in shorter pants as well, a sign of your impending orgasm.

You nodded against him, moaning around his fingers as you quickened your thrusts, the squelching emanating louder in the room as your juices started pooling around your fingers.

“Yesyesyes, take it, keep rubbing your clit just like that, fuck-“ Gojo felt like he was about to cum himself, lightheaded and entranced at the scene in front of him— watching you please yourself so eagerly. He couldn’t believe he was about to witness your first ever orgasm, something he only ever dreamed about.

You tried to speak his name around his fingers, warning him you were about to cum but it came out muffled. He removed his fingers from your mouth, grabbing your jaw with the same hand, and smearing your spit messily against your skin— he directed your head to look between your legs.

“Watch yourself cum baby, want you to take it all in, remember how fucking good this feels.” He instructed, as you whined and moaned his name freely into the room.

“Toru- I- I think i’m cumming!! fuck-“ you cried, squeezing your eyes shut as the dam broke.

“Oh yesyesyes- there you fucking go~ good fucking girl~” He talked you through it as you came all over your fingers— cum gushing out around them as your cunt pulsed around your digits, body jerking in on itself after every wave of your high, your legs and hands shaking at the intensity.

You panted as you came down from your first ever orgasm, barely registering that Gojo was praising you as your mind felt fuzzy, you were feeling complete bliss, you couldn’t believe it took you so long to finally do this— you were addicted.

“Satoru- ngh-“ you whined in sensitivity as you slowly pulled out your fingers, holding your soaked digits up into the air and blushing at how they shined in the light with how wet they were.

Gojo reached for your wrist, shamelessly bringing your hand to his mouth as he sucked your fingers into his mouth, moaning and eyes rolling back at the taste. Your face blushed increasingly darker at his antics, clenching your thighs at how his soft tongue felt cleaning off your fingers.

After he popped them out of his mouth a dopey grin made itself home on his face, “So fucking sweet too.” he praised, licking his lips to clean up any drop of your juices he might’ve missed.

Gojo squeezed his arm around you tighter, gripping your face once more as he made you turn your head more directly towards him before he spoke again, “Wanna learn how to touch a dick next?”

pt. 2 here