#yes i meant what i said every word of it SAY IT AGAIN

[theonottsbxtch]

GIVEN ENOUGH | LN4

an: nessa barrett's new album has been pure inspiration i swear to god, listen to given enough while reading this because LORD, i fully felt bad for this version of lando even though i wrote him

wc: 2.8k

LANDO EXHALED, HIS JAW TIGHTENING as he glanced at her from across the room. She was draped in a crimson dress that clung to her like a second skin, every inch of her perfect for the cameras that flashed relentlessly. The evening air was heavy with champagne and ego, the kind of event he loathed, but his manager had insisted. "Keep the image alive," they’d said. The golden couple, the picture of perfection. But the truth of it all lingered like poison in his throat.

She caught his gaze and smiled—small, distant, rehearsed. He knew the curve of her lips too well to be fooled. That wasn’t a smile for him. That was for the photographers. For the sponsors. For the endless charade they’d both been roped into.

Lando took a sip of his drink, amber liquid burning his throat. The taste was bitter, but not nearly as bitter as the memory of last night. Or the night before that. The endless cycle of her tears, his apologies, the shouting, the silences. She always cried so beautifully, like it was an art form, and he hated how it disarmed him every time. How it left him apologising for sins he didn’t remember committing.

Haven’t I given enough? The thought tore through him like a cold wind. He clenched the glass tighter, ignoring the laughter that rippled around the room. She always needed more—more attention, more promises, more of him. And he’d given it. Again and again, until he didn’t know what he had left.

And yet, she stood there, radiant and hollow. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to hold her or disappear entirely.

“You’re staring,” her voice came, soft yet sharp, as she stepped beside him. The closeness was suffocating, the scent of her perfume almost too much.

“Am I?” His tone was flat. Detached.

“Yes.” Her smile didn’t waver, even as her words dropped lower, meant only for him. “You should try looking at me like you actually care.”

He laughed, quiet and humourless. “Funny. I was just thinking the same about you.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, a warning, but she didn’t say anything else. She turned back to the crowd, her hand brushing his arm in a way that seemed deliberate, calculated. It was always like this—a performance. For everyone else, they were untouchable. Together. But behind closed doors, there was nothing left to save.

For a brief moment, Lando wondered if she knew how much she’d drained him, how much she’d taken. Probably not. She’d smile, shed a few tears, and take more. Because that was what she did best.

And he’d let her. Every single time.

Lando adjusted his tie, trying to loosen the invisible grip around his throat. The gala was a success, he supposed—if success was measured in hollow conversations and counterfeit smiles. The air hummed with whispers of power, of wealth, of people pretending to matter more than they did. She thrived in it. He endured it.

As she floated away to join another circle of admirers, he downed the rest of his drink. It was always like this: her holding court while he played the silent shadow. To the outside world, they were the perfect pair. To him, it felt like being dragged across broken glass.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, the vibration pulling him back to reality. He fished it out, hoping for an excuse to leave, but the screen only held a reminder of tomorrow’s schedule. Another meeting, another event, another night like this.

He sighed, setting the glass down with more force than intended. The sound drew a few glances, but he ignored them. Instead, his eyes found her again, across the room. She was laughing now, the soft, melodic sound he used to adore. Now it only made him tired.

“Rough night?” The voice came from behind him, low and sardonic. Lando turned to see a man, older, sharp-suited, with the kind of smirk that made you want to punch him.

“Just another one,” Lando replied, his tone clipped. He didn’t know this man, didn’t care to.

The man nodded, his gaze sliding to where she stood, radiant under the chandeliers. “She’s something, isn’t she? Always knows how to light up a room.”

Lando didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

The man chuckled, a knowing sound that grated on Lando’s nerves. “But I suppose that’s the thing about women like her. They take everything you’ve got and leave you wondering if it was ever enough.”

Lando’s jaw tightened. The words cut too close, too deep. He turned back to the bar, signalling for another drink. The man didn’t push further, just gave a slight nod before disappearing into the crowd.

When the bartender slid the glass toward him, Lando stared at it for a moment, the amber liquid catching the light. How many of these nights had he survived? How many more could he endure?

“Lando.” Her voice was soft, cutting through the noise.

He turned to see her standing there, her smile as flawless as ever, though her eyes held that familiar edge. The one that always seemed to ask, Are you going to fight me, or are you going to give in?

“We should leave soon,” she said, brushing a hand over her necklace. “People will start to talk if we stay too long.”

He almost laughed at that. People always talked. It was the only constant in their world.

“Right,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. He grabbed his jacket, the movement sharp, deliberate.

As they walked toward the exit, arm in arm for the sake of appearances, Lando felt the weight of her against him. To the onlookers, they were untouchable, unstoppable. But he knew better. She wasn’t leaning on him. She was pulling him down, piece by piece.

And no matter how much he gave, it was never enough.

The ride back to the hotel was suffocating in its silence. Lando stared out the window, watching the city blur into streaks of light and shadow. She sat beside him, her fingers scrolling idly on her phone, her face unreadable. They didn’t speak. They rarely did anymore unless it was for show.

When the car finally pulled up to the grand hotel, she stepped out first, the driver opening the door for her as though she were royalty. Lando followed, loosening his tie as they made their way through the lobby.

They looked like a power couple—walking in step, polished and composed. Heads turned as they passed, whispers trailing behind them like a faint echo. It was always the same. People admired what they thought they saw.

When they reached their floor, the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. She stepped out first, her heels clicking against the marble. Lando followed a step behind, his feet heavier with each stride.

She stopped in front of her door, the number gleaming under the dim hallway lights. “Goodnight, Lando,” she said, her voice smooth, pleasant. Polished for the cameras that weren’t even there.

He nodded, already turning to head to his room further down the hall. But then her voice stopped him.

“Lando.”

He turned back, his hand still on the keycard in his pocket. She stood there, her hand on the doorframe, her head tilted slightly as she studied him.

“You’re in a mood tonight,” she said, her tone light, teasing, but there was something else in her eyes. Something sharp.

“Am I?” he replied flatly, his exhaustion bleeding through.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she took a step toward him, closing the distance between them. Her perfume reached him first, soft and heady, the kind he used to find intoxicating. Now it just felt cloying.

Her hands slid up his chest, her touch feather-light, deliberate. “You don’t have to sulk,” she murmured, her voice dropping lower, almost a purr. “You could come in. Stay with me tonight.”

He stiffened, his eyes searching hers. “I thought you said goodnight.”

She smiled, that perfect curve of her lips that had fooled so many. “I changed my mind.”

Before he could respond, she leaned in, her mouth brushing his. It wasn’t gentle. It never was with her. Her lips moved against his with a hunger that felt practiced, calculated. Her hands slid to the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

He didn’t move at first. He didn’t want to. But then her tongue traced his bottom lip, and he gave in—not because he wanted to, but because it was easier. Because blowing off steam with her was less complicated than the alternative. Because if he left her standing in that hallway and found someone else, people would notice. They’d talk. They always did.

His hands found her waist, gripping tighter than he intended. She moaned softly against his lips, her body pressing into his as if she could melt into him entirely. It was almost enough to make him forget the hollowness behind it all.

Almost.

He broke the kiss first, his breath uneven. She leaned back just enough to meet his gaze, her lips slightly swollen, her expression unreadable.

“Come on,” she whispered, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “No one has to know.”

The irony of her words wasn’t lost on him. No one has to know. As if they weren’t already a living spectacle. As if their lives weren’t dissected and discussed by strangers every day.

He nodded, wordlessly, and followed her into the room. Because it was easier. Because it was expected. Because it was all he had left to give.

The door shut softly behind them, the click of the lock cutting off the world outside. Her heels echoed against the hardwood floor as she stepped into the room, shedding her wrap and tossing it onto a nearby chair. The suite was immaculate—too pristine, too perfect, just like everything else in their lives.

Lando stood by the door for a moment, watching her. She didn’t glance back, already unfastening the clasp of her necklace and setting it on the dresser. The silence between them was thick, stretching taut like a thread ready to snap.

She turned, her eyes locking onto his. “Well?” she asked, her voice soft but challenging. “Are you just going to stand there?”

He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he were stalling for time. He didn’t know why—he already knew how the night would go.

She closed the distance between them in two strides, her fingers hooking into his shirt and pulling him closer. Her lips found his again, more insistent this time, and he let her. His hands settled on her hips, his grip firm but distant. She pressed her body against his, the warmth of her skin bleeding through the thin fabric of her dress.

“You’re so tense,” she murmured against his lips, her hands sliding up to his shoulders. “You need to relax.”

He almost laughed at that. Relax. As if he could. As if this—they—weren’t part of the reason he felt like he was drowning. But he didn’t say it. He just let her guide him, her movements fluid and precise, like a dance she’d perfected over time.

Her hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, her fingers deftly working them open. She kissed along his jaw, down his neck, her breath warm against his skin. He closed his eyes, trying to will himself to feel something. Desire, anger, anything. But all he felt was the gnawing emptiness that had been with him for months.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes searching his. “You’re quiet tonight.”

“Just tired,” he said, the words coming out flat.

Her brow furrowed slightly, but she didn’t press. Instead, she reached for his hand, guiding him toward the bed. “Come here.”

He followed, his steps heavy, his mind already elsewhere. She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands trailing up his arms as she pulled him closer. Her lips found his again, her kiss slow, sensual, calculated.

For a moment, he let himself get lost in it. In the warmth of her skin, the softness of her lips, the way her body moved against his. It was easier than thinking, easier than feeling.

But even as he sank into the motions, a voice in the back of his mind whispered the truth: this wasn’t love. This wasn’t even connection. This was survival. For both of them.

Her hands slid lower, tugging at his belt, and he let her. Because if he stopped now—if he pulled away, if he walked out—he didn’t know where he’d go. Or what he’d do.

And so, he stayed. Not because he wanted to, but because it was what was expected. Because it was what he’d been trained to do. Give enough to keep the peace. Enough to make it through the night.

But even as he moved with her, his body going through the motions, his mind drifted. And he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he could keep giving before there was nothing left of him at all.

A little while later the room was dark except for the faint glow of the bathroom light spilling into the corner. She’d slipped out of bed without a word, the soft click of the door barely registering in the haze of his thoughts. Lando lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. The sheets were tangled around his waist, their warmth suffocating despite the cold air in the suite.

He ran a hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling with measured breaths. His body felt heavy, his mind heavier. The act itself had been mechanical—motions he’d gone through so many times before, with her, with others. It should’ve been release, a momentary reprieve from the weight he carried. But instead, it only added to the weight.

In the bathroom, water ran softly from the tap, and he could hear the faint shuffle of her movements. She was thorough, always. Her routine was perfect, every step deliberate. He imagined her wiping off her makeup, smoothing out the lines that cracked her carefully crafted image. She’d come out in a silk robe, her hair pinned back, her expression serene, as if none of it ever touched her.

But him? He was cracked straight through, and no amount of polishing would make him whole again.

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, exhaling sharply. His mind churned, fragments of thoughts colliding like shards of broken glass. He could end this. He could say the words, let it unravel, walk away. She’d be fine. She always landed on her feet. And him? He’d finally be free.

But what then?

Lando swallowed hard, his hand falling back to the mattress. The truth of it burned in his chest, heavy and bitter: he wouldn’t end it. He couldn’t.

Because this—this mess of a relationship, this performance they lived—was the most stability he’d ever had. It was the closest he’d come to something resembling a home. And even though it was killing him, it was better than the void that waited outside of it.

He clenched his jaw, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers. There were none, of course. Just the same gnawing emptiness that followed him everywhere.

The bathroom door opened, and she stepped out, exactly as he’d imagined: her robe cinched at the waist, her hair swept back, her face bare but flawless. She glanced at him briefly, her expression neutral, then moved to the other side of the bed.

“Goodnight,” she said softly, slipping under the covers.

“Goodnight,” he replied, though the word felt hollow.

He lay there for a moment longer, the silence pressing down on him. Then, with a sigh, he pushed back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“Leaving?” she asked, her voice calm, almost indifferent.

“Yeah,” he said, reaching for his shirt on the floor. “I’ve got an early morning.”

She didn’t respond, simply turning onto her side and closing her eyes. It was the same every time. No argument, no questions. Just this unspoken understanding that this was how it worked.

He dressed quickly, buttoning his shirt with practiced efficiency. His tie was a crumpled mess in his hand, but he didn’t bother fixing it. As he grabbed his jacket and shoes, he cast one last glance at her. She looked peaceful, like a portrait in a gallery—beautiful, untouchable, and completely detached.

He stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind him. The silence out here was colder, emptier, but he welcomed it.

As he walked toward his room, his shoes dangling from his hand, he felt the familiar weight settle on his shoulders again. The routine was almost comforting in its predictability. Wake up. Smile for the cameras. Go through the motions. Give enough to keep the world spinning.

Because if he didn’t, he wasn’t sure what would happen.

And that terrified him more than anything else.

the end.

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[imagineiwrotesomethingwell]

Cold

Jegulus drabble. wc: 1389

It’s cold here. James is warm, but the room is cold, so Regulus doesn’t want to move. He just tucks his head under James’ chin, breathing in their scent with a dreamy sigh. It smells like it rained last night, too, which explains the cold, because Merlin knows neither him nor James remembered to close the window. 

“Papa,” a little voice says, and Reg sighs, lifting his head from his husband’s shoulder.

“Harry, come here,” he says quietly, lifting the blanket for the little boy to climb into. He giggles as he does, little hands clenching in the sheets as he pulls himself up under the comforter. He snuggles right up between his two dads, his head replacing Reg’s spot under James’ jaw. Regulus doesn’t mind, though, because now he can bury his face in Harry’s curls.

Harry smells like sunshine and milk and honey, which Regulus always thought was strange. He’s a kid; shouldn’t he smell like glue and mud and diapers? He’s meant to be sticky and smelly and weird. But no. The little one always smells like sweet things, safety and comfort, just like his dad. James always smells like wood and cinnamon and vanilla, and there’s nothing Reggie loves more than holding his son and his husband at once, breathing them in and feeling them. Here and real and loved and safe and warm. 

Harry’s already asleep again, his chubby brown hands fisted in Regulus’ shirt. His lips are parted in a soft ‘o’ as he snores, the perfect picture of beautiful innocence. James is drooling into their own curls as they snore, their glasses discarded beside their pillow, because god forbid they take their glasses off before they fall asleep. 

So Regulus just watches.

He props his head on his hand and his elbow on his pillow, staring down at the two people he loves most in the world. The sun is painting their skin gold and their curls seem to glow against their pillows, and Reg knows that when one of them opens their eyes, those’ll glow, too, turning that honeyed shade that takes his breath away every time he sees it. And as he watches them sleep, occasionally brushing his fingers through Harry or James’ curls, he thinks.

He thinks about Hogwarts, when he’d accidentally ran into James as he rushed off the train because he was chasing Barty. He thinks about James’ outstretched hand, their dazzling smile as they asked if he was okay as they pulled him off the damp cobblestone. He thinks about Barty and Evan teasing him mercilessly in the dorm because someone had said the words “James Potter” at dinner and Reg had blushed.

He thinks about the first time they ever kissed, when Reg was in 4th year and James was in 5th, when Reg had caught a snitch and utterly destroyed Gryffindor, but James had gay panicked too much to care and had grabbed Regulus by the waist the second they’d hit the ground. He thinks about how their lips tasted, about the way he’d melted so perfectly against them, how he’d never kissed anyone before that and he didn’t know what he was doing, but James didn’t seem to care. He thinks about their goofy grin when they pulled away, how they’d pecked his nose before running off to join the rest of the Gryffindor and get cleaned up. He thinks about how he’d found them again after dinner and crashed his lips to theirs, just kissing them as he kept his back against a wall so his knees wouldn’t give out, about how they never really stopped kissing after that.

He thinks about when James proposed, the day Regulus had graduated Hogwarts. In front of Sirius and his parents and everyone they’d ever known, James had gotten down on one knee and asked Regulus to marry them, to make them the happiest man alive. He thinks about how he’d cried and held James tighter than he thought he ever could, just whispering, “yes, I love you, I love you, yes,” over and over again for Merlin knows how long. He thinks about the wedding, small and kind and gentle, filled with the people who loved them and 80s punk rock, courtesy of Sirius and Remus deejaying. 

He thinks about the times when he and James had danced in the rain, stopped on drives to collect flowers from the side of the road, about the countless times they’d woken up tangled together. He thinks about the way James had sobbed when Lily had shown up with a sign that said, “your baby on board!” after their first try with implanted embryos. Regulus had cried, too, of course, but he liked to remember the look on James’ face when they realized they were about to be a father.

He thinks about the nights spent pouring over baby books when Lily was pregnant with Harry. He thinks about his brother crying when he and Remus had met Harry for the first time, holding and rocking him and telling him stories he’d repeat a thousand more times before Harry remembered any of them. He thinks about Remus sitting on the bed by Lily for hours as she recovered, how they’d all camped in her room for as long as the hospital would let them to talk and be there for her and Harry as she recovered from labor and he recovered from being born (such a horrific practice, from what Reg saw). 

He thinks about the childhood he never had, about how grateful he is to give Harry this comfort, this safety he never had. About how Harry’s never acted afraid of him, or of James, how he’s always said he loved them before bed and how he’s always been comfortable with hugs and cuddles. He thinks about how incredible it is to be a father, to be in charge of a whole human, to just exist in the same time as this exquisite creature who called him Papa.

He thinks a lot. Too much, probably. Because he almost doesn’t notice when James’ eyes flutter open, eyes gold in the morning sun. They smile gently, their eyes locking onto Regulus’.

“You’re so beautiful,” Regulus whispers, leaning forward to kiss his husband, careful not to jostle the child against his chest. It’s a sweet, gentle kiss, one that has Reggie’s eyes fluttering shut and his heart welling in his chest. But he pulls away and smiles down at James, brushing a curl off of his forehead.

“Reg,” James whispers, nuzzling into their love’s hand. “Wake up, Reg.”

Regulus’ smile falters. “What was that, cheri?” he asks softly, leaning closer to James, trying to hear. Man, it’s really cold in here. He needs to pull his blanket back up, it must have slipped down when Harry-

“Wake up,” James says again, their voice forceful and firm. “Wake up now.”

Regulus flinches at the cold tone, one he’s never heard before, not from James. His eyes close briefly, but once they open again, James is gone. Harry is gone. Everything’s cold, and everything burns, and he can’t breathe.

As Regulus feels the Inferi gripping his legs, clawing at him, dragging him down under the water, he stops thinking; he remembers. He remembers everything.

He remembers fighting with James his last year at Hogwarts, when he should have been studying and being a child for a little while longer, but his parents had different plans. He remembers James leaving him, saying they couldn’t be with someone who would take the dark mark, telling him they’d thought he was different. He remembers seeing them with their head in Evans’ lap not three weeks later, how that had hurt more than any ‘Crucio’ his mother had ever used on him. He remembers finding out about the Horcruxes. He remembers hunting down the locket. He remembers finding the cave and drinking the poison.

And as he stops thrashing, stops fighting, lets the water and the monsters take him, he remembers the way James had looked when they backed away from him in the astronomy tower that night, heartbreak and tears in their eyes. The way their voice had cracked when they whispered, “I can’t love a monster, Regulus.”

That’s okay, Regulus thinks as he lets the air escape his lungs. I’ll love you anyway.

thank you @calamitoustide for the idea with this post. i hate you /affectionate

[judesmoonbeauty]

Wrapped In Wicked Romance Part III:

Nica Schwartz - Chapter One

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

Nica: I’m lucky to be the boyfriend of a cute girl like you.

Nica Schwartz is the Staff Officer of Vogel, an organization under the direct command of His Majesty the German Emperor.

I hadn’t yet realized how dangerous he was despite his friendly impression.

Nica: Take good care of me, won’t you? Robin.

He is an evil that toys with love.

[Flashback]

That night, I had stumbled upon a secret I shouldn’t have known. Now, I am a fairytale keeper for one month.

A week later, Vogel arrived from Germany,

It was an organization made up of cursed individuals similar to Crown, and they seemed to be hiding something.

One day, a few days after they arrived —

(I was called to discuss something, but I wonder what it’s about.)

I had been summoned by the Director of Vogel, Darius.

Darius: I’m sorry for calling you so suddenly.

Kate: No, don’t worry about it. More importantly, is something the matter?

In the room Darius is seated on a sofa, with Ring leaning his back against the wall watching me.

What he said next was an unexpected suggestion.

Darius: I heard that your first job was to become a couple with a Crown member for a day, in order to deepen your understanding of him.

Kate: Yes, that’s right.

Darius: Why don’t we do the same thing?

Kate: What?

Darius: We also want to get to know you.

Darius folded his arms and smiled gently at my surprised expression-

Darius: Choose one of Vogels to spend the day with as a couple.

Darius: Select one of us to deepen your friendship with.

The sudden proposition left me at a loss for words, when I felt someone tap my shoulder.

Kate: Eek!

???: Is it okay if I take on that role?

Kate: Nica.

When I looked up, I met Nica’s eyes as he placed both of his hands on my shoulders,

Nica: Say, be my girlfriend, robin.

Captivated by his beautiful face, I nodded unconsciously, but —

(But I’m Crown’s fairytale keeper, I don’t think it’s okay to make decisions without their permission.)

Just as I cleared my throat and was about to refuse,

Nica: Alright, then it’s decided. I’ll get ready and meet you at the entrance, okay?

Kate: Uh, wha- wait a second.

He waved his hand and left me in the room without my hearing a response.

(W-what should I do….)

Then Darius stood up.

Darius: It would be absolutely perfect for Nica to take on the role.

Darius: I leave him to you, Ms. Fairytale Keeper.

He smiles sweetly and then leaves the room.

Kate: Whh-what?

I was left behind staring at Ring in confusion, but he also spoke out of confusion.

Ring: Um, so that…...Nica isn’t a bad person.

Ring: It’s just that, he’s experienced with lots of things.

[Flashback Ends]

(I think I understand what Ring meant by that…..)

Nica: You see, I’m still unfamiliar with London.

Nica: If you’re okay with it robin, can you show me around on our date?

Our day as a couple started with those words, and I was supposed to show him around London, but….

(He walks arounds like he’s well acquainted with the place even without my help,)

(When we passed by a cafe earlier, a female employee asked him to stop by again.)

He’s so familiar with the city that I don’t think he needs me to show him around.

Female Flower Shop Clerk: Oh, you were at the bar the other day, weren’t you?

Female Flower Shop Clerk: Let’s have a drink again if you like.

(He’s being chatted up by a woman AGAIN……!)

Every time a woman starts talking to him, he holds my shoulders and says the same words.

Nica: Sorry, I’m head over heels for this girl.

Nica: I have such a cute girlfriend, so I can’t hang out with other girls.

Female Flower Shop Clerk: Oh……I’m sorry for interrupting your date.

(I - I feel so bad…!)

I left the place with his arm wrapped around my should and turned my attention to different shop, but

Kate: Why’d you say you wanted to be my boyfriend?

My question made him stop in his tracks.

Nica: Why……because I want to become friends with you?

Nica: After that, it’s was just my preference…..or something like that?

As he peered in my face and smiled with satisfaction, I shook my head.

Kate: I don’t think we needed to become a couple if we are going to be friends.

Kate: There’s a lot of people who like you, right? I doubt it was necessary to become a couple for the day.

Nica: …..Could it be that you’re jealous?

Kate: No, why would I be jealous?

While I was speaking, the wind blew my hair around,

Kate: Besides, you’re used to London enough that you don’t need me to show you around……

He brushed away the ends of my hair from my lips, and curled them around his fingers.

Nica: What if I told you that was an excuse?

Kate: An excuse…..

His fingers gently caressed my cheek, tickling me, and I instinctively shivered.

As if to say he wouldn’t let me leave, his hands cupped my cheeks.

Nica: I wanted to become friends, so I suggested it to Dari.

Nica: It seemed like after a one-day couples experience, Crown and their fairytale keeper got along.

Nica: Look, we’re outsiders coming from Germany,

Nica: An organization under command of His Majesty the Emperor, and were cursed on top of that, so it’s only natural that their guard is up, isn’t it?

Kate: Well, that’s true….

Nica: I wanted them to learn through you, robin, that we aren’t suspicious.

(I didn’t know there was such a plan….)

I felt a bit relieved now that I understood the reason why for such a sudden suggestion, but….

Nica: But, the main reason is because I want you to like me.

I jump in surprise when he strokes my cheek with his thumb.

Seeing that, Nica’s smile deepened —

Nica: I’ll tell you about me. So, tell me about yourself too.

Nica: My one-day Schnuki. [Sweetie.]

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[osohchoso]

Shattered Ice

Chapter Three- Black Flash

Hockey player!Choso x F!reader, ex bf!Toji x F!reader

Previous | Chapter Index | Class list | Chapter 4 coming soon!

Content: Hockey AU, College Au, friendly teasing, deep thoughts, alcohol and smoking, SatoSugu mentions, many JJK references lol.

The week went by quickly, and you did everything you could to keep your mind off the impending project you were assigned to complete with Choso. You buried yourself in homework, cleaning the dorm and even volunteered to microchip at a local animal shelter for extra credit. The project was the last thing you wanted to think about. You made no effort in contacting him to set up a time to start it together, but neither had he. The few chances you passed him in the halls, you completely ignored him. Unsure if he tried to make a move to get your attention in return.

Monday would be here again soon, and you needed to think of a realistic plan fast. You weren't sure how long you could fully avoid him when you're trapped in your shared class for an hour once a week.

The day that followed your first public speaking class, you set up a follow-up appointment with Mr. Gakuganji. Marking the email as urgent. Marching right into his office the second he sat behind his desk, an annoyed look plastered on his face like he already anticipated what your next words would be. 

“Please, let me change classes.” You pleaded. It could be a different day, different time, different semester. You didn’t care as long as it got you far away from Choso. Most of your veterinary friends were put into the Wednesday class, if you could get moved to then the class would go by like a breeze. Instead of how it is now. Agonizingly slow while you await impending doom. Waiting for the fallout of last week’s party to catch up to you. 

“No” Your counselor answered sternly, not even bothering to turn his computer on and search the seat availability for the other time slots. 

“But-” You open your mouth to object, the word coming out in a shrill cry before he cuts you off.

“I said no and that's final.” He shut you down, shooting a glare your way. “Look, I don’t care about whatever childish reason you have, you can figure it out on your own. There are no more open spots, deal with it” 

“What if-” You try again, hoping maybe you could drop it for the semester and put it off until the next. Even if that meant a heavier workload next year, you wouldn’t mind if it saved you from this awkward situation. 

“How many times do I need to tell you no? Do I need to spell it out? N. O.” You shut your mouth, jaw clenching, as he raises his voice ever so slightly. It was kind of a shock, you had asked so nicely and expected it to work in your favor. “Do you understand now?” 

“Yes sir” You say shakily, standing up from the chair in his office. You hadn’t expected to feel so humiliated after this meeting.

“Good, don’t bother me with stupid questions again.” He sighed, waving you out of the office. As you walked out, the defeat started to sink in. You were stuck with him.

As the week went on, you attempted to hatch a plan on how to deal with Choso as your partner. You wanted to minimize as much interaction with him as possible, to protect yourself from further embarrassment. Maybe you could do the whole project yourself. All the research, preparing the powerpoint, everything. Choso wouldn’t mind, right? A typical jock would be ecstatic to have someone do all the work for them. As for the speech part, you could write him a script to follow for the presentation. With just the minimal amount of speaking parts to land him a good grade as well. 

But you could work on that later, it was Friday night afterall. 

“You almost ready?” Shoko shouts from the other side of your bedroom door. Tonight you were attending the second home game here at Kaisen University, accompanied by Shoko and Satoru. The pair always goes with you to every game, Satoru because he has to support his boyfriend while Shoko goes just to get drunk. You go for the love of the game. 

“Almost!” You yell back, buttoning up your jeans in front of the mirror. You just needed to find a shirt to wear. Suguru dropped off the skirt you left at the last party earlier this week, cleaned just like Choso promised, but the crop top you wore was missing. Maybe the shirt was ruined beyond repair. It would have been the perfect outfit to wear tonight to support the Curses, oh well. You settle for a red and navy striped crewneck, even if you couldn’t find your official gear you could at least rep the school’s colors.

Stepping out, you see Shoko impatiently waiting by the door. Shoes laced up and purse slung over her shoulder. You step into your shoes and tie them tightly, throwing a glance over to Utahime on the couch. Sitting there in lounge clothes, tapping away at the laptop on the coffee table, brows pinched together.

“You sure you can’t come tonight?” You ask your second roommate. Utahime doesn’t attend as many games as you but she is always such a fun addition when she does. Opposite of the serious girl you see in front of you, hard at work.

“Sorry, I wish I could” She sighs, stretching her back out from her hunched position. “I have a report due at midnight. Honestly , Gojo shouldn’t be going tonight either, I doubt he finished his already.” She spits his name in a way that makes you laugh, those two are always fighting. 

“Wish you could come with us.” Shoko pouts at her friend, reaching for the door handle. She pulls it open and turns her attention back to you. “Come on, Satoru is already at the stadium. He saved us two seats.” Shoko grabs your arm and practically drags you out the front door. 

A quick jog across campus, chilly air nipping at your nose, and you reach the hockey arena. The two of you file inside the stadium, searching the stands for the familiar snow white hair of your friend. He sticks out like a sore thumb against the busy crowd, a beacon during a storm. He had picked some excellent seats to watch the game too, front row beside the home team’s goal. He turns to you as you rush to his side.

“There you two are! You're late! Thought maybe you abandoned me!” He jokingly scolds you, a pair of black circle glasses covering his eyes even though he is indoors. Shoko snatches them off his face, putting them on herself and revealing his piercing blue stare. 

“You know how long this one takes to get ready” Shoko teases, sticking her thumb in your direction. 

“Hey! We made it just in time.” You defend, unable to conceal your smile. You slide past both of them to claim one of the seats, Satoru and Shoko joining you on either side. The game starts only a few minutes later, lights dimming and music booming as the spotlight shines to introduce the team. Crowd erupting in a wave of cheers in all directions. 

“The captain of Kaisen University, the king of Curses in the flesh, Ryomen Sukuna!!” The announcer roars as you watch the team captain skate onto the ice, the spotlight following him around as people chant his dumb nickname. He basks in the praise, pumping his fist in the air.

“More like the disgraced one” you scoff under your breath. Sure, the arrogant man was a great player. A record of goals in his history on the team, but he played dirty. Also holding a record for the most times sent to the penalty box. Known for his bad temper and always itching for a fight. You can't help but roll your eyes as you witness the smug grin he wears during his lap around the rink.

The rest of his team follows him out. You recognize a few of them from your friend circle. Suguru, Yuki, Kento. 

“She’s so hot” Shoko sighs dreamily, watching as the team's first and only female hockey player takes her lap on the ice. Smiling and waving to her adoring fans. Yuki Tsukumo worked hard to get where she was, facing lots of misogyny along the way to stake a claim in a male dominated sport. Now she represents the team skillfully, earning lots of respect from players and fans alike.

“That's my boyfriend!!” Satoru shouts, jumping up from where he sat. He points to Suguru as he passes by, who is pretending like Satoru isn’t screaming his lungs off. Suguru puts a hand in front of his face, trying to block out the embarrassing screams of his number one fan. “Love you Sugu!!” Satoru continues to fan-girl until you grab his wrist and pull him back to sit in his spot.  

Of course you spot Choso, your pupils easily spotting the number 7 printed under his last name on the navy jersey. The gear layered underneath along with the heavy padding covering his limbs only serve to make his already thick build somehow larger. A focused expression behind his helmet, he has entered game mode. Skating over to the goal he calls home, right in front of your seats.

The opposing team strides onto the ice, yellow and white jerseys flash past as they do their own lap. They don’t receive an ounce of the fanfare compared to the home team. The once cheering crowd turned into a chorus of ‘boos’ and taunts.  

The game starts and the excitement is electric. The sharp sound of skates on ice almost puts you in a trance as you watch the game. The away team was good, almost on par with Kaisen University. Every time your team scored a point, they would follow up with one of their own. This would be a close game. 

Your eyes seemed to have a mind of their own though. Instead of being glued to the puck like every game before this one, you find your eyes floating to the home team goalie. Every impressive save, every frustrated fail. Constantly checking to see his reactions throughout the game. Making sure to take in every detail of the man you vowed to avoid. 

Intermission comes and you watch Choso skate to the bench, peeling his helmet off his sweaty head. Long brown locks slick to his flushed face. Perfect lips parted as he squeezed a water bottle for a much needed drink. Off in his own world, probably psychoanalyzing every play of the game up to this point.

“Look! It’s Takaba!” Satrou elbows your side, taking your attention away from the resting goalie. Looking over the ice, you watch as a cartoonish ghost skates. While most teams have a mascot that is a fearsome animal, tigers, sharks or such, your school is known as the Curses. The man inside is Fumihiko Takaba from the theater program, and he does a damn good job of putting on a comedic performance. 

“Ugh, cringe. I’m gonna grab us some drinks, be right back.” Shoko groans as she rises from the seat. Before walking away she hands the circle shades she was still wearing back to their rightful owner. Satoru places them back on his face, turning to you once Shoko was gone. Devilish grin curling across his lips. 

“What’s that stupid look for?” you sigh, digging a finger into his side. Your best friend leans in, his breath brushing against your ear.

“You gonna kiss Kamo again tonight?” He whispers, causing heat to flood to your face, warming your still chilly skin.

“Of course not!” You snap back at him, placing your palm against his forehead to shove his face away. “Why would you even ask that!”

“Come on! You seemed to enjoy it sooo much last time” Satoru is relentless with his teasing. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy yourself.” 

“I’m not interested. I was drunk Satoru” You cross your arms and look away. “You can't hold my drunk self accountable for that.”

“Not interested? You're such a liar” He says it so matter-of-factly, like he knows more than your own heart does. And maybe he does. Swinging your head back to face him, blue orbs peering behind dark glasses, smirk on his face as he awaits your admission. 

“No. I’m not” You double down. 

“Bullshit.” He huffs, causing you to glare. “I see how you have been watching him all night. You can’t keep your eyes off of him. Admit it!” 

You want to come up with a witty retort, something to make him drop this whole conversation once and for all. Yet you come up empty handed, staring at your friend like a fool. Thankfully, Shoko comes to the rescue. 

“I’m back!” She sings, handing a can of beer to each of you. You gratefully accept it, wrapping your fingers around the ice cold can. Taking an eager first sip in hopes of clipping the wings of the butterflies that threaten to take flight in your stomach. 

“You know I hate beer Shoko” Satoru pouts, taking the can and bringing it up to his glossy lips to drink the world's smallest sip. A wince as it travels down his throat.

“Oh, whatever Gojo, you can handle it.” Shoko teases in return, leaving you thankful to be out of the spotlight.

The game resumes, clock ticking down in the last period. The scores are so close, with the Curses only up by one point. Everyone in the stands watches on the edge of their seat, holding their breath as a player from the away team passes the puck to his teammate. The opposing player readies his stick, swinging hard and fast to send the puck hurtling toward the goal. Seconds ticking down on the clock.

If the Kaisen goalie can defend it, the game will be won. Their second game in a row, setting a tone for the rest of the season as menacing champions. If he misses, if the puck flies straight into the net, the game will go into overtime. Judging by the exhausted expressions on the home team’s faces, dragging this game out could cost them. 

The puck was fast, soaring through the air. Speed threatening to break past even the best defenses. It would slip past most goalies easily. 

But Choso wasn’t like most goalies, he was faster, eyes locked on the black blur as it catapulted toward him. Skillfully snatching it mid-flight with his left gloved hand. The loud blaring of the buzzer rings through the air, signaling the end of the last period as Choso holds the caught puck up like a prize. The entire arena erupts in excitement, chanting his name over and over until ‘Let's go Choso’ is the only thing you can hear.

His teammates rush him on the ice, surrounding him in a circle of praises and chants. Hands patting his back and helmet as they congratulate him on that game saving move. 

“That was incredible!’ Even Satoru was hyped after that play, still raving about it as the three of you stood from your seats to head outside. “He was so fast!” 

“Yes, I saw” You and Shoko say in unison, feeling like sardines as you push your way through the crowd. A little claustrophobic as everyone attempts to leave at once. Stepping out into the chilly air outside tasted like sweet relief. 

“Sure you don’t want to kiss him now?” Satoru teased again, obvious that he was only acting like this to get a rise out of you. Though you wouldn’t admit it to him, you kinda did want to. He looked pretty hot during tonight's game, off in his own world where nothing but the puck mattered. The last stunt he pulled only added to his attractiveness in your eyes. 

Though maybe it wasn’t only in your eyes. A group of girls pass by outside, gushing about the Kaisen goalie. One of them convincing the others she was going to get between his sheets tonight. 

“What now?” You asked the group after standing out in the cold for a few minutes, watching as Shoko sticks an unlit cigarette between her lips. Her other hand fumbling for a lighter in her jacket. She was wearing Satoru's glasses again, you didn't even notice her steal them this time. A running gag between the two of them since the beginning of their friendship. 

“Dunno. Suguru said the house is still trashed from last week so no party there” She responds, irritation seeping through as she comes up empty handed in her quest for a lighter. You turn to Satoru, about to ask if he has any ideas. But you stop, watching as the familiar face of his boyfriend stalking behind your best friend. A finger pressed to his lips as he warns you not to give away his presence. 

“Guess who!” He purrs, lips pressed against his white hair as he covers Satrou’s blue eyes with two hands.

“Suguru!” Satoru spins around, throwing his arms around his dark-haired boyfriend to pepper his cheek in kisses. You gag loudly, making sure they remember that you and Shoko are still right here. They break apart, Suguru fishing a lighter out of his pocket and extending his arm in offering for Shoko. Your friend greedily snatches it up, lighting the cigarette and inhaling deeply. 

“That really was a great game” You tell your hockey playing friend, his dark hair pulled in a still damp bun from his quick shower in the locker room. Changed out of his jersey and into a casual jean and jacket combo “Congratulations on another win” Suguru smiles at your praise, pulling you into a side hug.

“Thanks! We hope to go undefeated this season.” He explains, and with the roster they have, it's definitely possible. “Do you guys want to head to the bar with us? The team is heading to Boogie Woogie to celebrate.” Shoko’s eyes light up, nodding as she presses the still burning cigarette to the cold metal railing. 

“Of course we want to go! Who do you think we are!” She flicks the cigarette away, wrapping an arm around yours. 

“Alright, let's head out then” Suguru laces his fingers with Satoru, leading the group toward the parking lot. His sleek black car sticks out like a sore thumb against the others, Satoru definitely splurged just a bit on his boyfriend’s last birthday. You and Shoko climb into the back seat, the booming music doing little to block out their shameless flirting on the ride.

Boogie Woogie was the best college bar around. Not far from campus and huge supporters of the hockey team, which made it the obvious choice for an after party. Every winning game they supply the team with a round of celebratory beers, and every losing game two rounds of shots to numb the pain. Game nights they also served a special concoction they called ‘Black Flash’, a mix of delicious fruity flavors that resulted in an odd black-red color. 

The strobing blue and red neon lights greet you as you walk up to the brick building. The roars of celebrating and deafening music assault your ears before you even step through the front door. This place was sort of a tradition after games for everyone, not just the hockey team, of course it would be crowded tonight. 

The second you enter, your group of four splits in separate ways. Suguru drags Satoru across the bar without even muttering so much as a goodbye to you, forcing your white-haired best friend to socialize with Suguru’s hockey pals Kento and Miguel. You turn your head back to Shoko, at least you still have her by your side. Or so you thought. 

She seemed to vanish out of thin air, teleported away. You let out a lengthy sigh, they always find a way to abandon you it seems. You'll track Shoko down later, first you need to get a drink in you. 

You make your way over to the bar counter, hopping up onto the stool and resting an arm on the sticky wood surface. Your other hand waves to one of the bartenders on duty, Yu Haibara. He passes a beer to a patron then rushes to you, calling your name.

“Hey! How are you!” The brown-haired boy greets you, leaning over the counter to wrap you in a hug. 

“I’m good, how are you?” You smile. You met Yu last year when he joined Kaisen University as a freshman. He tried out for the hockey team but they picked his best friend Kento instead, so Yu decided to do the next best thing. Getting a part-time job at the most hockey obsessed bar in town. Everynight you joined the team here after, Yu was there. Always so friendly and easy to talk to too, causing you to befriend him quickly. 

“I’m great!” He pulls away from the embrace, grabbing a nearby silver shaker. You don’t even have to ask for your drink, he knows what you're here for. “I’m loving all my classes this year, making lots of friends. Oh! Kento is going to help me practice so maybe I can join the hockey team next year!” He doesn’t ever pause as he speaks, spitting out every thought at record pace. All while expertly flicking his wrists, shaking a mixture of liquor and juice above his head.

“That’s great Yu! I look forward to watching you soon.” You encourage him with a genuine smile, watching as he pours the deep red liquid into a highball glass. Before he passes the drink over, he has to add the finishing touch. Topping off the cup with a shiny cherry and a sprig of mint.

“Black flash!” He shouts, setting the drink in front of you. Proud of his creation, like this isn’t the eighth black flash he's made in the last hour. 

“Thanks” You smile at him, sliding some cash across the counter. You bring your lips to the straw. The taste of black cherries, pomegranates and diverse rums flood your taste buds. Such a sweet drink for the game’s sweet victory. “Hey, have you seen Shoko?” You question him. Yu squints his eyes, tapping his chin with a finger as he scans the bar. 

“There!” he exclaims, pointing across the bar. You follow his finger, past the chattering crowd and already drunk hockey players. Against the far wall is a pool table, Shoko is drinking a beer and leaning a hip against the side, cue stick in her other hand. Watching as Yuki takes her turn, knocking a striped ball into the corner pocket.

“Thanks, talk to you later. I should go join them.” You hop down from the barstool and walk in the direction of the two girls, drink in hand. You keep your eyes down as you force your way through the packed bar. Catching bits and pieces of conversations as you passed. Lips around the straw, fully engrossed in your drink as you walk. Shoko has a sort of obsession with the tall blonde, and honestly, can you blame her?

Due to your lack of awareness, you ran right into someone’s hard chest. Red liquid from your cup spraying over the muscles concealed by a tight white shirt. Quickly soaking through and reaching the victim’s skin below. 

“Shit! I’m so sorry!” You quickly set your now empty cup down on a nearby table and grab a wad of napkins. Pressing them against the wet fabric to soak it up, feeling the muscles contract underneath your touch. “It was an accident I swear” You look up to see the face of your poor unsuspecting target. 

Choso. 

For a second, he looked slightly upset. His dark brows drawn together as he scowls down at you. But the second he realized it was you, the resentment vanished. A softer expression paired with a smirk now in play.

“Maybe you should look where you're going,” He teases. So much for your plan to avoid him. You retract your hand to look at the stain, sticking out like blood on snow. 

“I’m really sorry, I’ll replace it.” You promise, shoving the soiled napkins inside your empty cup. He pinched his shirt, examining the damage himself. 

“Don’t worry about it, my fault for wearing a white shirt to this place.” He shrugs, indifferent to the ordeal. His eyes lift from your face, tracking the movements of someone shuffling behind you. In one swift movement, Choso wraps a large arm around your shoulders, pulling him flat against his broad chest. From the corner of your eye, you watch a silver-haired boy tumble to the ground, spilling his beer all over the floor where you had just been standing. “See what I mean” Choso laughs, releasing you from his grip.

You laugh awkwardly, not sure what even to say. First you make a mess all over him and then he saves you from encountering the same fate. 

“Let me buy you a drink.” You blurt out, catching his attention. “Partly for my accident, but partly to celebrate the great game you played.” He stares at you, bored. For a moment, you weren't sure if your words even reached his ears until he muttered a quiet:

“Sure.” 

He followed you through the crowd and back to the bar, the two of you sitting side by side. You wave Yu over, who whipped up another Black Flash to replace the one you spilled and slid a frosty mug of beer to Choso. 

The two of you drink in silence. You want to say something, but you're not sure where to start. There is too much weighing on your thoughts, dragging you down. The party last weekend, the upcoming project, tonight’s spill. As you sip the fruity drink, you notice him watching from the corner of your eye. Stealing glances your way, thinking you won't notice, while he waits for you to start speaking. When you continue to stay silent, he turns toward you on the bar stool, opening his mouth to make the first move. 

“Kamo! Get over here!” A loud male voice interrupts him before he can get his own words out. You both turn to see one of the hockey players, a tired looking man with a hooked nose. An indifferent look on his face that rivals even Choso’s usual expression, but the man’s skin is slightly flushed, indicating just how intoxicated he is. “Sukuna wants to give a speech.” 

“Be there in a second, Hiromi” He tells the man before turning to you. “Sorry, talk to you later.” Choso stands up with his beer and walks off to join the growing crowd of his teammates, throwing his arms around the man he called Hiromi and the younger silver-haired boy from earlier. 

“See you” You whisper quietly, turning back to face the bar. You let out an exaggerated sigh, washing away your worries with a large sip of your drink. 

“Geez, what’s got you down?” Yu’s voice grabs your attention as he wipes the counter in front of you with a wet rag. 

“Nothing...just..” The sound of the team cheering in the background cuts you off, allowing you time to hesitate, but Yu gives you a pleading look. Resembling a puppy begging for one more treat, the expression forces a smile to your face. In turn, you give in. Spilling every embarrassing detail from the last week and the plan to avoid Choso. He gives you his full attention, only pausing when another customer orders something at the bar. 

“That’s dumb” He says with a laugh after you finally finish your tale.

“I’m sorry?” you half-laugh, shocked by his reaction. You had just poured your soul out for him and he responded with two simple words.

“Well…it’s just silly.” He explains, picking up your empty glass and shaking it. A silent ask for if you want a refill, you shake your head no. “ Who hasn’t done a couple of stupid things drunk. Plus, I don't think Choso cares. I doubt he thinks differently of you after one crazy night, he’s actually a really nice guy, just a bit quiet. Give him a chance. Plus, I don’t think you'll succeed in ignoring him forever. You're just going to keep running into him like you did tonight.” Yu points out the facts, his voice gentle as he speaks factually. 

Reality sets in. It will be unrealistic to keep avoiding him. Kaisen University isn’t the biggest school, everyone’s friend circles seem to connect in one way or another. Lately, you can’t stop encountering the goalie. The longer you put it off, the more awkward things will become in the long run. Who knows, maybe you and Choso could end up a great pair. Two good friends if given the shot. You're going to have to rip the bandaid off eventually and face your fears. 

But not today.

“Thanks” You smile at him again, talking with the kind bartender was always helpful. Yu has always been a good listener, offering you helpful advice in turn. You notice the time on the clock behind the counter, it’s getting late. “I should probably go find Shoko” You tell him as you slip off of the barstool.

“See you later!” he calls after you, picking up your empty glass to clean.

You wander around the bar, looking around for your brunette friend. She was no longer playing pool and she wasn’t hanging around Yuki either. You checked the bathroom and she also wasn't there. Probably outside smoking a cigarette . You tell yourself, walking toward the metal door in the back of the bar that leads to the alley. You push through it, the door slamming shut behind you. 

Outside in the chilly air, you don't spot your friend at all. Instead, you see Choso again. He’s the only one out here, leaning against the brick wall with one foot pressed against the building. His head tilted up, eyes stuck on the moon as he blew out a puff of smoke from the cigarette between his fingers. The moonlight casts a glow on his features that make him look so ethereal, too beautiful for this world. 

You froze as you stared at him, torn between saying something or sneaking back inside unnoticed. Though the slamming door had other plans. The loud metallic clang alerted Choso, causing him to flinch, snapping his head to meet you. His eyes lock onto yours, looking even more tired than usual.

“Hey…” He whispers, exhaustion dripping from his tone.

“Hey.” You echo. Too late to escape now. You walk until you're standing next to him, back pressed against the wall to mirror him. He turns back to the moon, inhaling deeply on his cigarette. Silence spreads over the two of you, the only sounds are the crickets and the occasional car passing by. 

“Do you ever feel like…like you aren’t who you are meant to be?” Choso is the first to speak, eyes still on the night sky. The unprompted seriousness startles you, he doesn’t even give you time to respond before speaking again. “I’m just so tired all the time…trying to be someone I'm not. Everyone has such crazy expectations of me, to be the best at all times. The best student, the best goalie. They expect me to be some shining star in the center of the universe.”

He takes another long drag of his cigarette, the glittering cosmos above reflecting in his dark gaze.

“But…what happens when that star burns out?” He finally turns to face you, the true weight of his exhaustion etched into the bags under his eyes. His skin pale and dull, looking almost corpse-like now that you see him fully. How long has he been feeling this way?

“Choso…I…” You trail off, not even sure what you can say right now. In all truth, you have never felt this way. Your whole life there was always someone praising you, telling you how proud they were of your accomplishments. And even when you failed, you were comforted, being told ‘there is always next time’. You always felt like you belonged, like you were right where you needed to be. Always felt invincible, like you could do anything your heart desired and never gave up on your dreams. How could you say anything when you can’t relate? 

“Nevermind” He shakes his head when you fail to vocalize an encouraging notion, dismissing his suffocating thoughts. “Please…just forget I said that. Didn't mean to get all deep on you.” He quickly replaces his frown with a tiny welcoming smile, a mask to hide his internal turmoil. 

“Choso…no…” You reach out, wrapping a hand around his bare bicep. The sudden contact causes goosebumps to prick along his skin underneath your palm. “If something is wrong, you can tell me.” You lean against him, looking up into his eyes where you can still see the swirling turmoil. He whispers your name softly, shaking his head no.

“Everything is fine.” He tries to assure you. “We are supposed to be celebrating after all, I don’t want to bring the mood down.” He takes one more hit on his cigarette, turning his head to blow the smoke away from you, then pressing it against the wall to extinguish it. 

“Choso..” You plead, not wanting to give up. He is hurting internally, you can tell it.  

“It’s fine. I really don’t want to talk about it.” He stops you sharply, any follow up questions you had die before you can speak them. 

He suddenly brings his face close to yours, so close you can taste the harsh tobacco off his tongue. He narrows his eyes, looking at your parted lips. Your heart stutters inside your chest.

“Your lips…” He trails off, shamelessly staring. Successful in shifting the conversation away from himself. “They are all…red.” he remarks. A side effect of the black flash, that crimson liquid always stains everything. Counter tops, clothes, lips…you name it. 

“Yeah, it’s from the drink” You raise your thumb up, swiping it across your bottom lip in hopes of lessening the stain. His eyes track every movement, a wolf hunting his prey. He swallows hard before backing up, creating distance that is instantly filled with the cold autumn breeze. He shivers, likely regretting not wearing a jacket for his quick smoke break. 

“I should head back inside.” He walks toward the door leading back to the bar.

“Me too” You admit, palms slightly sweaty from his closeness, despite the low temperature. He holds the door open for you then follows you in. Offering a slight wave before he heads off to find his teammates again. 

You depart back on your quest of finding Shoko. Wandering around, checking all the usual places she runs off to and coming up empty handed. Come to think about it, you haven't seen the white and black hairs of your friends Satoru or Suguru either. Not since arriving. The bar patrons are starting to thin out too, many guests heading home for the night. You stand off to the side, in the dark corner where the broken pinball game sits, worry gripping your stomach as you pull out your phone and check the messages. Opening it to see a string of five texts and a few missed calls while you were outside with Choso.

[Missed call from Shoko]

Shoko: Where are you???

Shoko: Suguru wants to leave soon

Shoko: Hello??

Shoko: Satoru has a headache, we are leaving now

[Missed call from Suguru]

Shoko: Guess we are leaving without you

Great, they left you stranded. Again.

The sudden grip of a large hand on your shoulder drags you out of your thoughts, sending a shiver down your spine. Finger pads pressing into your skin through the cloth of your shirt.

“You look lost.”

Taglist: @v1x3n @lavenderdaydream97 @simplyraeblue

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I hope eveyone is having a great holiday. Have a happy and safe New year!

Also, if you want to be added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[vithir]

Su- what kind of flowers?

Chapter 11 of Bright Water by AstronomyAddict on ao3

Regulus lifted his glass towards James. “Shall we toast?”

James reached out and clinked his glass against Regulus’s. “To what?” he asked with a crooked smile.

“I don’t know yet,” Regulus said with a twinkle in his eye. “Perhaps to understanding each other a little better.”

James smiled back, still nervous, but oddly calm in his company. “Was that an invitation to get to know you better? I’ll take it that way, so okay, I have at least 100 questions for you. Where do I start?”

Regulus chuckled and took a sip of his wine. He fit in so well here; in a fancy restaurant with fine food. “Start with the easy questions, please.”

James thought carefully. He wanted to know so many different things, and he didn’t know where to begin. Regulus had said easy, so that’s what he would try.

“What change would you like to see in the world?” James asked eagerly, and Reg laughed again. “I said easy! That was not an easy question.”

James didn’t have to think long before he had an easier, yet not boring question. “What music do you listen to?”

“Classical.”

James nodded slowly. That actually made quite a bit of sense when he thought about it

“Do you play music then?”

“Yes, I play the piano, and I’ve been doing it since I was four,” James was lost for words. Could this man be any more attractive? “I also compose my own music.” Yes, he certainly could. Regulus played and composed music! James didn’t know what to say, but he realised that his silence was starting to stretch on too long.

"Wow, that's wonderful! We should do something together one day." He flashed a crooked smile at Regulus, still trying to take in the new information. He composed music? Of course he did!

"Next question!" Regulus ordered.

James massaged his temples in a thoughtful gesture, even though he already knew what to ask. He had so many questions and wanted to fire them all off at once—

"What's your favourite place to take a nap?"

"The floor."

"How often do you dance?"

"Never."

"Which workers have the worst job?"

"Nursery teachers."

"Favourite scent?"

"Cinnamon."

"Food?"

"Snails."

"Favourite flower?"

"Su—you're absolutely not getting that out of me!" Regulus glared across the table. James couldn't help but laugh. That glare was so adorable, filling every corner of his heart.

"Why won't you say it? I'll figure it out anyway. Whether I get it out of you, or I have to bring you different flowers every time we hang out, that's up to you."

Regulus glared even harder, leaning over the table toward James.

"Oh, is that what you think? I can tell you right now that—"

"Dinner's ready." Regulus was cut off by a short-haired woman who entered with two delicious-smelling plates. Regulus leaned back as she placed one plate in front of him and the other in front of James. She stood beside the table, looking expectantly at Regulus. He said nothing. With a small sigh, she left, and James couldn't help but laugh. Regulus had just brushed her off, which meant he wasn’t interested in her. James picked up his cutlery and began cutting into a potato. He had never been that keen on squid. It was a bit rubbery, and the taste was something he'd never quite gotten used to. He couldn’t understand why Regulus appreciated it. With his French background, it made sense that he was used to eating odd things—snails, frog legs, and yes, squid.

"So," James said after the silence had stretched on for a bit too long. He put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "The favourite flower. I’m serious. I’ll figure it out, sooner or later."

Regulus slowly looked up from his plate, his eyes glinting with both irritation and amusement. "Are you seriously bringing up flowers right now? In the middle of dinner?"

James laughed and nodded. "Yeah, why not? Flowers are interesting! They say a lot about a person."

Regulus rolled his eyes and took a bite of his food, but James could see he wasn’t planning to answer immediately. Instead, he took his time, chewing slowly, as if weighing his next move.

"Alright, let’s say I give you my answer," Regulus finally said, his voice low and almost secretive. "What are you going to do with that information? Buy me flowers all the time?"

James blinked dramatically, pretending to think deeply about the question. "Maybe. Or maybe I’ll just use it against you every time I need to make you smile."

Regulus snorted and shook his head, but there was a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You’re an idiot."

James laughed again and shrugged. "Maybe, but I’m your idiot."

There was a brief silence where Regulus just looked at him. "I don’t have a favourite flower," he said suddenly, but James could hear the doubt in his voice.

"I don’t believe you," James said. "Everyone has a favourite flower, even if they won’t admit it. But fine, I’ll figure it out. You won’t be able to hide it forever."

Regulus simply gave him a sceptical look but dropped the subject. Instead, he took a sip of his wine, as if he had won the battle—but James knew better. He had all the time in the world to crack Regulus’ shell. "Wait and see," he muttered to himself with a satisfied smile.

[lisbonsteresa]

you ever just

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ sweet, sticky, thick, and pretty ❞

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : toji wants to give you another baby

☾₊‧⁺...cw : toji fushiguro x fem!reader, smut, penetrative sex, pre-established relationship, overstimulation, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, rough sex, begging, smug and cocky reader, feral toji

☾₊‧⁺...a/n : this is a post from my old blog but i revamped it and i really wanted to share this again because i was really proud of it. and yes, it's another breeding kink + pregnant kink. consider it a part two, since it takes place after megumi is born

toji never thought he’d get off on the idea of having another kid with you.

yet here he is, dick hard in his sweatpants as he thinks about you carrying his baby again...how you'd start to fill out all over again, that cute chubbiness coming back, how he'd have an excuse to dote on you whenever you complained about the simplest of things.

it starts off with how he sees you coo over megumi, calling him your sweet baby. you're such a good mother, too, it's clear you'd likely be the favorite parent to that little brat.

but god, does he find it attractive just seeing you be a mom to the kid that he gave you.

the day you ask megumi what he wants for his upcoming 4th birthday at dinner, neither one of you is prepared for the words that come out of your son's mouth.

“i want a baby sister,” he states bluntly as he chews on the steamed carrots, looking at you and toji. it was clear from how confident the little guy is that he's put a lot of thought into this.

“but, i don’t want her to look like daddy. he’s ugly, i want her to look like mommy.”

little brat. you straight up choke, trying to stop the laugh-coughs as toji looks at his son, offended. this really is his son, because who else but you and the kid he made with you could have the nerve to say shit like that to him?

“twerp, you look just like me, you realize that, right?”

megumi huffs, looking at his dad in the cutest little glare. “that’s 'cause i'm a boy, though," he explains as if it's obvious, his precious little cheeks puffed up as he stuffs more of his food in his mouth.

"my sister has to be like mommy. you’d be an ugly girl, daddy.” toji just rolls his eyes, pinching the cheeks of the mini him, ignoring his protests. as the two bicker, you think. would it...really be that bad to have another baby? you always wanted a girl, after all, and toji took such good care of you and megumi...it couldn't be that bad. “well, uhm,” you begin, catching the attention of toji, an unfamiliar smile on your face.

there's a mischievous look on your face right now, his eyes narrowing as he waits for your response. whatever you're about to say is either going to haunt him for the next few days or make him roll his eyes at you.

“i'm sure daddy and i can work something out for you, 'gumi, but let’s think of some other things, too, m'kay?” 

ah.

you went the haunting route.

ignoring the little cheer his son let out, toji can't hide the disbelieving look that crosses his face when he processes what you just said.

'daddy'?

you've said the word, sure, usually when you talk to megumi about him. but something was different about how you said it, the way you looked at him when you said it, the barely visible flutter of your eyes...a silent promise there'd definitely be a deeper conversation about it later.

the very day megumi has a sleepover with the neighbor's kid, yuuji, toji is mentally cheering. he loves his son with all his heart, he truly does, but having a toddler in bed meant limited contact with his pretty wife.

it's only been 3 days since that little comment you made and it's been on toji's mind constantly. every time he tried to bring it up with you, megumi would interrupt and toji was not being the reason his son ended up traumatized because he overheard mommy and daddy talking about making babies in the kitchen.

"bye, gumi! make sure you behave for mr. nanami, okay? have fun with yuuji," you coo as you press two kisses to your son's cheeks, snapping toji back to the present.

"see ya, kid, be good," toji says, giving a nod of acknowledgement to nanami. megumi barely says goodbye before he runs after yuuji to the car, his run a bit awkward because of his overnight backpack.

waving goodbye to nanami, you shut the door, turning to look at toji with that smile as you.

"hi, toj."

you think you're so cute, don't you?

"hey, mama."

toji can't even lie, you are. wearing his t-shirt and sweatpants? yeah, your the cutest thing he's ever laid eyes one. his hands rest on your hips, pulling you flush to his chest. fuck, you weren't even doing anything but he could already feel himself getting hard just from looking at you.

he's never been so whipped in his life.

"d'you wanna talk," you murmur lowly, your finger running over the thin silver chain on his neck. "we could go to the bedroom...and talk about the baby thing."

toji's eyes darken at the suggestion, knowing exactly what would happen the moment you both go into the bedroom. "yeah. think it's 'bout time we talked about it," he hums as he grips your wrist, tugging you to your room.

as soon you both step foot into the bedroom, toji hungrily presses your lips against his, letting out a deep groan. "had me thinkin' about knockin' you up again all fuckin' week, mama," toji sighs against your lips, tongue running over your lower lip.

"wanted to stuff you full so fucking bad."

feeling you sigh so prettily into the kiss, his doesn't hesitate to shove his tongue in your mouth, hands busying themselves as they push your (his) sweats down off your hips before guiding you back to the bed.

you knew he would get excited over your comment, but you didn't think it would be to the point where he was rutting into you as he practically devoured you, feeling your back hit the bed.

“you want to give our 'gumi a sister? wanna be a mommy again," he questions, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours. one of his hands slithers up under the oversized t-shirt to cup one of your tits and roughly knead it, his thumb just barely grazing over your nipple.

"wanna have another kid with big, bad toji? tsk, poor cunt missed gettin' stuffed full of cum?" 

you just hum a little breathless. your hand comes up to cup his cheek, looking from his lips back up to his eyes. he's so handsome when he's over you like this, his chain dangling right in your face.

“maaaaybe. megumi just made me think about it, 's all. you've been a good dad t' him, how could i not want to give you another one,” you coo, guiding him closer so you can press a kiss against the scar on his lip. 

“besides…”

toji grunts when he feels your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him flush against you so you can feel the thick, heaviness of his arousal through his sweatpants.

“don’t you want me to make you a daddy again, toji? c'mon, knock me up, big guy.”

after those words leave your pretty little mouth, toji is on you as he realizes that you're 100% going to give him the worse breeding kink ever.

"'m gonna fuckin' ruin you," he growls into your ear. you aren't given a second to protest before he's ripped your panties off, complaints falling on deaf ears. the tips of his fingers gently run over your puffy pussy lips, your slick wetness coating his fingers.

"fuck, mama, you're soaked already." his eyes are focused on your face as you squirm and whimper when he swirls little circles into your clit, an evil smirk on his face. "can't wait to fill you up 'til you're dripping with my cum, doll."

you can't stop your hips from trying to grind into his hand, eyes rolling back when he teased your entrance. "toji, c'mon, baby, i need you s'bad."

"baby, you know you can't take me without prep," he coos at you. he can feel how hot and slick you are, finally, finally slipping two of his fingers inside your cunt. and oh, the way you arch your back a little bit with a pleading whine of his name is so, so pretty, you're so fucking cute.

"mmn, maybe y'don't need prep, you just sucked my fingers right in," he says huskily before pressing a little kiss to the corner of your mouth. "you wanna try, mama? wanna see if you can fit my cock in you? really gonna feel that stretch, though, babe," toji warns, knowing you can't give a sensible answer when he starts pumping his fingers in and out.

when it seems like your about to answer him, the only thing that escapes your mouth is a shaky moan, his thick fingers curling to hit just the right spot inside of you that has you gushing. unable to form words, you tug on his shirt and nod frantically, just wanting to feel toji stuffing you full.

"yeah? you wanna try?" toiji pulls his fingers out of you, chuckling when you whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness. he pops his fingers in his mouth, cock throbbing at the addictive taste of your cunt on his tongue. "c'mon, we're both wearing too much, let's get you outta that shirt, ma."

you waste no time throwing the shirt off, not even giving him the chance to undress you. but once your shirt is off, you're practically ripping off his stupid black t-shirt that made his pecs look fucking delicious and those damn sweatpants and boxers that hid your prize.

as you fuss over his boxers, toji takes a moment to look at you spread out on the bed before him. you still had a bit of chub on you, tummy nice and soft and cute, just how he likes it. if he knew where his phone was, he'd take a picture of you right now; frustrated, horny, naked, and pretty. all for him.

"tojiiii, stop staring and kick off your stupid boxers, you're getting on my nerves!"

you can't even look him in the eye as you say that because you're too busy staring right at his cock, a thick bead of precum formed at the tip. the lick of your lips told him everything he needed to know, but he wasn't fucking your mouth, not tonight at least.

"what? i can't look at my own wife," he asks with a raised eyebrow, biting back a laugh when you swat at his hand that pinches one your puffy nipple. "tch, so rude, doll."

before you can snap back at him, he brushes the swollen head of his cock against your slick folds, smearing your wet over the tip. that shuts you up quickly and toji has to hold back another laugh. always so fussy until he finally gives you what you want. he's spoiled you rotten.

"toji," comes a soft whine, so soft he nearly misses it. your eyes are focused between your legs, lower lips between your teeth as he teases you with his cockhead. you huff, pushing your hand against his chest to give you enough space to shift positions, knowing exactly what would get him to stop teasing you.

once you roll over, you shift so that you're face down, ass up, you hand slipping between your thighs to spread your sticky pussy open, slick dripping down your fingers. "tojiiii, please? please, baby, stop teasing an' put a baby in me...please, hubby, give your wife what she wants."

any other whines or begs are interrupted when his hand comes down hard on your ass. he was going to give you what you wanted, what you both wanted. he was going to fuck you, fill you up with all his cum and whatever leaked out? he’d make sure to push it back in, whether with his fingers, mouth, or tip of his dick. 

when he finally pushes into you, he just lets out the most wrecked groan you’ve heard from him yet, each inch sinking into you stretching those tight walls just a bit more.

"holy shit...fuuck me, baby, too fucking tight, you're strangling my cock," he hisses, fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he gave you inch after inch.

god, just the thought of fucking you not just to feel good, but to fill you up, get you to take his seed deep inside to give him another kid? it's fucking with his head, his wife was gonna be the death of him.

both of you moan once he's all the way inside. you feel so full, his cock is too fucking big it doesn't make any sense and you genuinely think you should've let him fully prep you...but shifting your hips just a little bit has his tip pressing against something sinful. you whine and reach back to grab at one of his hands on your waist, turning to shoot him a mean glare as you demand, “stop stalling n’ knock me up, toji." 

who is he to deny what his wife asks?

using a hand to steady himself on the headboard, his hips begin to move slowly, pulling out just an inch and pushing forward again. "so tight 'n' warm..." each thrust hits deeper and more powerful than the last as toji begins to pick up speed, the thickness of his cock hitting every deep part of you.

it's almost too much, but you don't want him to stop, especially not when toji started running his mouth.

“shit, look at you, baby…takin’ it like a champ.”

now you really wish you stayed on your back, then at least you could've slapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up. you drop your head down against the mattress with a moan, starting to move your hips to match his thrusts, the room filling with the sound of skin slapping on skin.

“fuuck, c'mon, throw that ass back on me, thaaaat’s it, good girl.” 

he starts pounding into you harder when he feels you tightening up on him. the sweet moans and adorable words of “gimme more,” “baby, please,” or “s’ too good, toj,’” only pushing him to get even deeper, to get you to cum so he could stuff you full.

he coos when he sees you starting to scramble up further on the bed, away from his relentless fucking. he knows that he found that sweet spot that would have you creaming in minutes.

"tsk, you just never fuckin' learn, huh? 's always gonna be too much for you, isn't it," he huffs as his hand finds its way into your hair, tugging your head back to keep you from moving more. “hey. hey, nonono, don’t run away from it, lemme have it," he coos at you, following you up the mattress.

you never change, always swearing up and down that you wouldn't run from his cock, that you'd be able to take him. you wanted this, you wanted your precious husband to fuck another baby into you, t'give 'gumi a little sister, s’ i’m gonna give it to you.”

toji may sound like he’s still put together, but he’s just thankful you can’t see his face since yours is pressed into the pillows at the top of the bed.

you can’t see how he’s barely holding himself together, trying his hardest not to let himself go too much. the last thing he needs is to cum before you, knowing that while you wouldn’t mind, he’d be annoyed for breaking his streak.

he’s brought back into the present when you manage to turn your head a little, able to look him in the eye, and god, does he love what he sees.

your mouth is open as you moan for him, eyes lidded and focused on only him. he sees the little tears gathered in them, not quite spilling over but the fact that they’re there tells him he’s the one making you feel that good. 

“tuh-toji, ’m gonna cum, gonna cum—!”

"yeah?" hearing you moan so sweetly for him only makes toji smirk, fingers digging into your hips as he helps you meet each thrust. “gonna make a mess f'me already? poor little cunt can't handle gettin' fucked so good? mmn, shit, 's okay, baby. let go for me, mama, cum on daddy’s cock.” 

"t-tojiiiii," you shakily moan, nearly ripping the sheets as you cum suddenly. it was his voice, the way he tried to sound put together but you could hear how desperate he was to feel your pussy clamp down on him and get his cock nice and messy.

toji's deep, guttural moans mix with your cries when he unexpected is pushed over the edge, the way you desperately grinded back against him causing him to swear under his breath as he lost his pace, groaning your name as he emptied into you. it felt so hot, the pulsating warmth of his tip nudging against your cervix paired with his thick cum filling you up dizzying the both of you. 

you expect some kind of snarky comment from toji, trying to catch your breath so you could reply when he said it. but nothing comes (you have to stop yourself from laughing at the pun). you turn to look back, sighing when toji pulls out of you. usually he stayed inside, leaning down to tease you for cumming so fast...but he didn't.

something was wrong and for some reason, you felt like your pussy was in danger.

“toj…?”

he didn’t answer. he probably didn’t even hear you, not with the way he was looking so intensely at the mess between your thighs. the mess he made. toji doesn’t know what comes over him, his hands practically moving on their own as he moves you over onto your back, then moving his hands down to your sensitive hole and spreading. 

the scene in front of him just breaks him. you let out a soft whine, hips gently rolling into his hands. his eyes stay stuck between your legs—sharp and focused—as they watch the thick globs of his hot cum drip out of your hole and down onto the bed sheets.

the groan that leaves him is sinful, and once you make eye contact with him, you realize how fucked you are. he’s hard again, almost making you believe he didn’t cum if it weren’t for the creamy sheen of his cum on his throbbing dick and the hotness of his dripping out of you. before you know it, toji’s climbing over you, making sure your legs get pushed over to his shoulders as he pushes you into a mating press.

yeah.

you're fucked.

you keep making eye contact, and now that he’s so close to you, you see how crazed he looks. his eyes, completely black due to his blown pupils, have an unhinged look in them, and the half smirk on his face only makes you worry about your ability to walk the next day.

“t-toji, if you need a break to calm down, then-oh!” 

he shuts you up by pushing himself inside you, loving how your eyes cross so prettily. he has you now, you can't run away from the overstimulating feeling of him fucking you in this position. and when you feel his hands come up and lock together on your head to really keep you in place, you feel yourself gush all over his cock at the simple display of how strong he was compared to you.

you're so fucked.

all you can do is moan and cry out his name, hands grabbing whatever part of him they could reach. but he doesn't let you break eye contact, keeping you close to his face so he could see every little expression. and fuck, does he like what he sees.

“t-tojiii, t’ deep, t’ deep!”

“wan’ me t’ stop? t’ stop fuckin’ this messy hole?”

“fuck, y-you stop, and I’ll c-choke the shit out of yo-ouh!”

“that’s it, take it, take daddy’s cock, mama, lemme breed you.”

everything about this position is driving both of you crazy.

the closeness has you reeling, the way toji just cannot bring himself to break eye contact, needing to see what he was doing to you.

his thick cock is hitting deep, almost too deep, with the way each thrust of his hips causes the tip to press into the sweet spot inside you every. single. time. 

he has you for the whole day and the whole night, he's going to make sure you're stuffed entirely and doesn't plan on stopping until either you tell him you need a break or until he can't cum anymore. and even then, he doesn't think anything will be able to get him out of your cunt.

but with the way he just moaned into your mouth, thick spurts of more cum coating your insides…and the way he didn’t get soft, instead pressing you even deeper into the mattress as he began to pound into you with a groan of how much he loved your pussy…

you were sure it would be a while until he was done with you.

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[ohcaptains]

𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

college! peter parker x fem reader.

18+ only !!! f! receiving oral sex. peter parker has an oral fixation i said what i said. in my spider-man era again.

peter was a weekly visitor at this point. sometimes, it was twice, but never more than three. three was pushing it.

Three said that Peter meant something to you, and you couldn’t have that. No, whatever this was between the pair of you was strictly transactional. It was Peter texting you late at night, the classic, you up? Gracing your screen, and every time, you would pretend to be annoyed.

As if Peter coming around to give you the greatest head of your life was an inconvenience. Tempted, the devil on your shoulder smirking, to type back, Jesus, again? but never doing it. Instead, you wrote: sure.

Still, it plagued your mind. He never asked for anything else.

It was as if he did this purely for himself.

“Oh fuck,” you mewled, clenching down tight. The hand that was wrapped around Peter’s brown curls clutched and tugged, and the unconscious movement earned you a chastised groan. It rumbled through your cunt, and the echo shot to your clit, making you close your eyes and lean back, wet mouth spilling his name into your dorm.

Peter liked hearing you.

Liked seeing you lose your mind with his head between your thighs, your pussy wet and throbbing from his mouth and fingers. It’s why he came around often. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even text, would just knock on your door -- looking sheepish from under his dark curls -- and just. Not. Say. Anything.

His silence was answer enough. You knew what he wanted. Or, needed, as you later figured out, as you saw how red he’d gotten when you told him he couldn’t come around for a bit. When you said something about focusing on exams, he’d come over anyway, whined, shuffled his feet and said, You can do your work, I just gotta…I’ll be quick.

The lack of explanation made your mind swirl. But regardless, you’d let him in and did your work with his head between your thighs. He’d tutored you, too, told you how to solve for x with his fingers inside of you. He’d said, if you let me make you come again, I’ll do your Maths work for the next week. After he’d left, you stared at the scene of the crime in pure silence.

Just…reflecting.

Peter fluttered his tongue over your swollen clit. Focused on swirling it around his tongue in sloppy, wet circles, and the thick desire that swelled between your thighs began to pool at your lower back, forcing you to arch up into it.

“Please,” you wept, even though he was giving you what you wanted. Flat on your back with his deft grip keeping your bare thighs open. It was 8 pm. He’d caught you just after your shower, so the smell of your shampoo and body wash wafted through the air – Lavender and pear.

Peter had spread you open and said you smelled like spring. You’d been far too turned on to comment on it. He grumbled into your cunt, and you managed to work out the word, more? You hummed, too drunk on him and wound tight to verbalise that yes, you wanted more. Wanted him to make you come, and come again, till all you could do was mumble his name and focus on your breathing.

He'd learnt how you liked it. Paid attention, and he was getting full scores as he pushed his tongue flat against your swollen clit and sucked. Your vision went white.

“Oh fuck – ohfuck, Peter—” you squirmed, but Peter was strong, and he held you to the bed with his vice-like grip, wordlessly saying take it take it take it.

He lapped at you, salvia drooling over your cunt and down his chin, soaking the sheets. He was always so careless. In moments like this, that nervous edge that always fluttered around him was gone, replaced by a visceral drive to either please you, or get what he wanted.

The two bled into each other.

His tempo was leisurely, but that didn’t stop the heat from washing over you all at once.

You clamped your thighs around his ears and moaned -- loud, so loud that you were sure the other students on your floor heard.

Still, the ache was erratic, “So good,” you sobbed, and you heard yourself, heard the near primal need in your voice, and the desperation made you embarrassed, made you cover your mouth with your palm and grip the sheets, willing yourself to cool it. 

“Move your hand, or I’ll stop,” he uttered against you, and your clit was so sore that the echo of his words made your eyes roll back. Peter must have seen, as he hummed a laugh, and kissed your inner thigh, “lemme hear you.”

Managing to gain some sense of sanity, you blearily blinked down at him, but all sense of stability you thought you had was wiped away when you saw Peter had his hand stuffed down his pants.

You dropped back onto the bed and sobbed.

You knew he got off on this, but Jesus Christ, you’d never seen that before.

“Gotta be kidding me,” you breathed, and Peter must have understood what you were referencing, as he buried his reddening face into your inner thigh. He let out a breathy chuckle, “’ M’sorry,” he mumbled, “usually I wait till I get home, but you’re just so hot.”

You had to stay completely still, or you’d burst. Usually, I wait till I get home?

Peter moved his face and began nuzzling the wet folds of your pussy. He bumped his nose against your clit, and you quietly choked.

Peter hummed, “couldn’t help myself.”

You figured he did something like that, but the admission made your thighs tense. You pictured him stumbling home – cheeks still wet with you – and tugging his pants down, quickly shoving his hands into his boxers and taking hold of his aching cock. Did he whimper when he came? Or was he silent, all tremors and low grunts? No. He definitely whimpered.

He was far too pretty to stay quiet.

The sudden desire to kiss him swept over you.

Reaching down, you tugged at his curls, wordlessly motioning him to move. When he did, you briefly saw the red of his cheeks and wet of his nose before you kissed him, all tongue, and tasted yourself on his pink lips.

Peter melted into you. Huffed your name like a sigh, and the sheer tenderness of it had you wrapping your legs around his back and pressing your bare cunt against his jeans.

He was rock-hard. Tentatively, you ran your nails over his chest, and dipped low, pressing between his thighs, cupping his bulge, and gently squeezing. Peter wept.

“Oh fuck,” he sobbed, as desperate as you imagined. With one hand in his hair and the other on his cock, you continued to kiss him, until the ache between your thighs became too much to bear.

“Make me come,” you whispered, “and I’ll put you in my mouth.”

Peter had never moved so fast in his life.

[nanaslutt]

PLEASE write more of geto being a perv🙏🙏

“pt.1” here

Geto x reader, in showing you how sorry he is for being a creep<3

perv!geto is my obsession atm

contains: fem reader, non consensual photography (reader is kinda ok w it), pervy roomate!geto, crack, gojo makes an appearance, talk of gojo wanting reader, sexual tension, cunnilingus, masturbation(geto), degradation, soooooooo much dirty talk, sweet!geto at the end<3

MDNI

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

About a week ago you were watching a scary movie with geto on your laptop, drinks placed on the table next to it; dumbly.

So of course when the scariest jump scare you’ve ever seen in your life occurred, your legs jerked into the glass of liquid, spilling it all over your laptop and absolutely ruining it.

“God- Fuck! Noooo! nonono!” you shot up to grab a blanket, pillow, anything, to soak up the liquid, “TAKE YOUR SHIRT OF NOW,” you yelled in a panic to your dark haired roommate, who; you noticed throughout this entire excursion had barely moved a muscle to help, besides the muscles used to laugh at you.

“Babe I hate to be the one to tell you this, but that shit is beyond saving,” he laughed, placing his hand over his chest while he did.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck, I use my laptop every single, and day I absolutely cannot afford to buy a new one right now.” you placed your head in your hands in defeat.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” geto said, at the end of his fit of giggles at your expense.

“Yeah right, ur broke as shit too, that’s why we’re living together.” you said, muffled into your legs as your body had now fully collapsed in on itself.

“Yeah ur right, but that kinda hurts my feelings,” he said, smirk showing through his faux pout, “thought you liked livin’ with me,”

The two of you bickered back and forth for a while. You ended up putting the laptop in a bag of rice; to no avail, it was completely ruined.

Geto had been nice enough to let you use his laptop in the meantime; only when he was with you though, which you found slightly weird but at least you had access to it to some degree.

Right now you had the house to yourself though. Satoru had picked him up half and hour ago, saying something about wanting to try some new coffee shop with word famous sweets; that meant you had free range of his laptop.

You knew how to clear search history, so you would be fine. You just wanted to watch a movie anyways, nothing criminal.

Sneaking into his room, you unplugged the silver electronic, sliding it under your arm as you took it back to your room. Placing the laptop on your bed and getting comfortable against your pillows, you cracked it open, You had accidentally seen him type in his password before, so getting in was no problem.

What was a problem is what was on the screen when the laptop came to life. An entire folder of up skirt panty shots; and not just anyone’s panty shots; they were yours.

Scrolling through the decently filled folder, you noticed ones that dated back months ago. You saw a picture of you laying on your bed, head in your hands while you kicked your feet behind you; the short skirt you were wearing gave geto the perfect view of your unobstructed ass, slight pink peaking between your cheeks.

Other too, you doing more mundane things like sitting on your knees on the barstool you had in the house, poking out your ass, once again giving that dark haired pervert the perfect shot of your clothed mound.

You were almost impressed at how many there were, and how make different angles he was able to get without your knowledge.

Trying to wrap your head around the idea that yes, your sweet roommate who has never attempted to come onto you once, had a secret folder filled with lewd photos of you.

Saving the file, you sent it to yourself. Once you heard the chime on your phone you quickly copied the link, and sent it to the culprit himself, no other message attached to it but the folder alone.

——

“Ummm ooh, I’ll also get the triple chocolate cream filled crepe cake please! What do you want suguru?” gojo chirped.

Geto started at him with disbelief, he had just ordered 5 full size deserts with the longest name he’d ever heard; all sounding like a stomach ache and a half; and they were all for himself.

“Right..uh, i’ll just get the vanilla scone and a black coffee please.” Geto politely spoke to the man taking his order.

Gojo continued conversing with the cashier, finishing up ordering any last minute items and paying.

Geto felt his phone buzz in his pants, checking it quickly while gojo finished up the interaction; both of them starting to walk to booth in the corner of the cafe.

Suguru’s heart sank to his balls when he opened your message. He knew you were mad too, because you didn’t say anything else other than a link to his private folder of your panty shots. “Fuuuuuuuuuck haha,” geto laughed, hand coming up to cover his smirk as they slid into the booth.

“Huh? let me see, what happened?” Gojo nosed, trying to peek over the table at geto’s phone when he noticed it was the source of his distress.

“I might have to sleep at your house tonight, maybe for the rest of my life I don’t know.” he said, hand dropping back into his lap as he shut his phone off.

“Did you forget to do your dishes or somethin’?” he asked, knowing how angry you got at Geto when he didn’t pick up after himself.

“Yeah maybe, or maybe my roommate just found the upskirt pics i’ve been taking of them for the past couple months.” he giggled, slight remorse in the back of his head. Not from doing it, but from being caught.

Gojo’s jaw dropped, covering his own mouth as he let out a boisterous laugh. “Hahaha oh man, you really are fucked.” the blonde slapped his own knee, “I’ll let you co-sign my lease tonight,” he said, scared that if suguru went home, he might actually get murdered.

Geto kicked satoru’s shin underneath the table, making him wince. Their giggles died down at geto’s misfortune after awhile. “So..” gojo started, “Yer’ gunna let me see the pics right?” he asked, “Already hurt you didn’t tell me about this,” he pouted,

“In your fucking dreams satoru,” geto snorted. He already saw the way gojo looked at you when he was over, always making passes at you and touching you any chance he got.

He would be damned if his bestfriend got his hands on you before he did. “WHAT???” gojo yelled a little too loud for the tiny space they were in, resulting in him getting shushed by geto, “pleaseeeee, I know how good you are at taking pictures I bet they’re soooo gooood.” gojo wined, crossing his arms on the table and laying his head against them.

“Keep dreaming satoru.” he laughed. The whine haired man kept his pouting up for awhile, calling Geto selfish and unfair, his sorrow immediately being forgot about when the massive tray of his deserts finally came out.

——

When you heard the front door to your shared apartment finally crack open open a couple hours later, you were in your bedroom.

His laptop had been tucked away in your bedside table in confiscation, while you awaited with a racing heart, for him to knock on your bedroom door.

You heard him place his keys on the table through the thin walls, then you hear his heavy footsteps as he starts to make his way to your room.

The air was still when the footsteps came to a stop in front of your door. You were feeling a lot less confident than you were before he got here, now the thought of confronting him made your mouth feel dry; heart beating out of your chest.

Finally, the knocks were being rapped on your door, you swear you died for a second when you heard his familiar voice call your name, followed by him asking politely if he could come in.

"Its open," you yelled back. When the wooden door creaked open and his frame came into view, you had to fight off all the neurons in your brain telling you to look away from his hooded eyes.

You felt like you couldn't breathe, the tension in the room was so thick it could be cut through with a knife. You had no idea why, but the current situation was admittedly arousing.

You stayed silent for a while, just staring at each other, neither one of you daring to break eye contact first, "So? What do you have to say for yourself?" you asked, voice coming out a lot less confident than you wanted.

"Im sorry." he replied, swallowing thickly, quickly sucking his lip into his mouth to wet it.

"You're sorry for what?" you asked clarifying, This wasn't going how you expected.

"I'm sorry for being a pervert and taking panty pics of my roommate." He said, taking a couple steps towards where you were sitting at the edge of the bed.

"Are you really sorry?" You asked, voice full of need, as you did your best to supress it, trying to ignore the growing heat in your stomach.

"So sorry" he answered, having made his way inches away from you, eye contact still not being broken. You both noticed how heavily you were breathing, his eyes flitting down to your lips for a second before he sucked his lip into his mouth again, and letting it slide out, dark eyes meeting yours again.

The only thing you heard was your heart beat loudly in your ears as you spoke your next words, "Show me how sorry you are."

----

"Mm so fucking sorry," geto's voice vibrated against your clit.

"F-fuck ohmygod," You moaned at the feeling of him wrapping his lips around the bud, tongue peeking through to flick at it.

"A-again-" you whined,

"'M sorry," he groaned, staring up at you with a smirk as he released your clit, flattening his tongue over the sensitive bud.

You were laid back, ass placed at the end of the bed, Geto was sitting back on his heels as he perched himself on the floor between your thighs, hand rapidly stoking over his throbbing cock.

"W-wipe that sm-ile off your face" you wined, trying to keep the little hold you had over geto.

He didnt stop smiling, but you could'nt tell when he burried his tongue inside your pussy, pressing his face hard into your wetness and shaking his head. His pointed nose rubbed your clit in the most delicious way when he did that.

"S-so fucking dirty" you chastised at how sloppily he was eating your cunt. He was trying to fuck his apology into your pussy with his tongue, really trying to prove how sorry he was.

Loud slurping noises bouncing off the walls and going straight to your head; and to his cock; making you both dizzy at the situation.

"Sorry I'm so nasty," he groaned, muffled by your folds as he tongue fucked you like his life depended on it.

Quickening the pace of his hand against his cock, he was squeezing it the same way your walls squeezed his tongue, trying to mimic the feeling. Pre was dripping steadily from his cock and onto the floor, leaving a little puddle there.

Geto was getting off on this so hard.

Every time you squeezed your thighs around his head and degraded him, his abs clenched, balls tightening with the need to blow his load.

"O-only thing youre good for is eating my pussy, f-fuck" you said meanly with a whimper, eyes dropping down to his handsome face and seeing how fucked out he looked from your words, as he nodded his head and moaned into you, agreeing with you.

He needed to you keep talking to him like that, to keep humping his face, suffocating him, treating him like a bitch, he needed it.

"Use me-" he cut himself off as he moved his mouth back up to your clit, making out with the little bud messily, "wanna show you how sorry I am." he drunkenly smiled at you.

You gripped his hair in a makeshift bun, rolling your hips against his face as he stuck his tongue out for you to get yoruself off on.

Groans of "mhm mhmm" could be heard from Geto between your legs, pumping his cock impossibly faster feeling your wetness gush out of you from his minstrations.

"Ohmygod feels so good- shit-" You wined, tipping your head back, feeling your orgasm build quicky as you rubbed against his tongue just right.

His chin was absolutely covered in your slick, pretty eyes rolling back in his head as he felt himself get pushed towards the edge as well, abandoning his hand keeping your thigh spread to join his other between his legs. He massaged his balls between his fingers, increasing the pleasure he felt while you worked towards your end together.

"Fuck t-tell me your sorry again," you whimpered out, teetering on the edge of your orgasm, "Sorry" his deep voice immediately groaned out, cock throbbing when you yanked on his hair.

"Ag-ain" your moans broke up your speech,

"Sorry, m' sorry, sorry-" He kept babbling against your pussy, sending delicious vibrations through you.

You were feeling hotter at the strange power dynamic going on, using that to your advantage as he kept mumbling the word into you, sending you straight into the most mindblowing orgasm of your life.

"Coming f-uck fuck f-" your voice getting cut off as your stomach started contracting and jerking, you rode your high out on his tongue while he groaned a lengthy moan into you.

Behind where your vision was blocked by the bed, Geto was cumming all over his hand and the bottom of your comforter.

Geto's eyes repeatedly rolled back in his head, hand massaging his cum out of his balls as he stroked himself roughly through his orgasm.

Finally being able to breathe when you loosened your legs from their hold on his neck, dropping your hands from his hair as you laid back on the sheets. Geto's hands wet with his seed came up to massage your thighs, his head rasing from between them.

You both took a second to breathe heavily into the open air, your cunt as his cock alike twitching in the aftershocks of your orgasms.

You felt his hold on you cease for a moment, a couple seconds later something was bouncing heavily next to your head. When you turned your head you were faced with a brand new, rose gold laptop, still in its packaging.

You looked back up at geto, who was now standing, running one of his damp hands through his hair, "If me eating your pussy didnt prove how sorry I am, I hope this will." He smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Fuck, Geto are you serious?" you beamed, picking your limp body up from the sheets and holding the package in your hands, he smiled at you fondly, watching you tear it open like a kid on Christmas.

Peeling the plastic from the cardboard you spoke, "Still making you delete all those photos by the way," resulting in him tipping his head back in a loud groan of defeat.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

sore and satisfied

words: 1k

warnings: 18+ only!!, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex (reader is on birth control), dubcon!!, mentions of baby trapping, kinda pregnancy kink? its more of a control thing, dom!rafe, kinda fluffy at the end??, manipulation, bruises

“no.” you whine, feeling rafes rough hands cup your cheeks as he raises your face up to meet his. “im still sore from last time.”

“but you felt so good, right?” rafe questions, his lips ghosting over yours, his breath hot against you, making your mouth drop open, expecting the fierce kiss.

“yes…” it did feel good, even through the rough pounding and spankings and rafe gripping you so tightly you still have bruises.

“and ill be much gentler this time, baby.” rafe finally gives you a kiss, and it's like he's trying to convince you of his ability to stay gentle as his lips glide over yours.

“promise?” you whimper, hands gripping onto rafes shirt as you already start to go weak in the knees.

“of course baby.” rafe grins down at you, and you should have known what that grin meant, but you let him take you upstairs anyways.

his hands are gentle at first, undressing you carefully and praising you, celebrating every inch of your body that gets revealed.

“such a pretty pussy.” rafe says, cocking his head to the side as he looks between your thighs. “already looks ready for me to fuck.”

“need a little-” you're about to ask for something, for rafe to use his mouth again or rub you with his fingers, anything to open you up more, when rafe stands suddenly.

hes stripped naked before you can even blink, cock hard and jutting from his muscled body.

“i thought you said-”

“i haven't been rough yet, have i?” rafe will fight you to get inside your cunt if he has to, but he prefers you be pliable enough for him until he begins fucking you.

“n-no.” you admit, spreading your legs a little wider. sure, you'd prefer to be a little wetter, but if rafe is taking things slowly and gently you should have enough time to open up.

“exactly.” rafe says, letting out an exasperated sigh. “im gonna fuck you now and i don't want to hear you complaining.”

that's when you know you're really in trouble. rafes nice streak is done as he lays himself over your body, not bothering to hold himself up and dropping his full weight onto you.

“rafe!” you squeal out as his cock pushes against your entrance, hesitating for just a beat before he's pushing into you.

to rafes credit, he holds back somewhat. waits just a moment before he begins his punishing strokes, so hard and fast your head is instantly spinning.

rafes hands grip the same bruises on your hips, deepening them again, turning them into darker spots for everyone to see next time you don a swimsuit.

“mine.” rafe growls out, pressing a harsh kiss to your lips that's all teeth and tongue. 

you let out a cry when he bites your bottom lip and gives it a tug, but the rush goes straight to your traitorous pussy.

you can feel your wetness growing as he fucks you, your walls becoming slicker and easier to move against.

“that's it.” rafe praises you. “can feel how much you like this.”

you want rafe to stop teasing you, it's bad enough he's abusing your pussy, he doesn't need to add to it with his words too, but even as your hands come up to cover face, he continues.

“my little slut. bet you can cum from just my cock. won't even have to touch your dirty clit to have you gushing around me.”

you know he's right. you can feel your orgasm building despite wanting to beg rafe to slow down, feeling the near painful stretch inside of you and the soreness growing exponentially as he fucks your already hurt pussy.

“soon you're gonna always be ready for me. ill rip your panties off and you'll already be soaked. and the best part is-” rafe is grunting as he talks, his fantasy expanding as his cock pummels you. “you won't even mean to. it'll be your bodies response to my body. trying to protect itself, make it easier, cause less pain.”

“and it will be better for both of us then. you just need to adjust to this, baby.” rafes voice moves to an almost sweet tone, so close to comforting if it wasn't for the fact that he's taking you raw as he talks. “then ill be able to fuck you so easily. and as often as i want without having to worry about your little pussy hurting.”

“okay.” you whisper. you're not sure if you can form any more words, but it's satisfactory enough for rafe as he presses a kiss to your lips.

“gonna cum inside you real soon. gonna fill you up. think you can get pregnant for me baby? swell that little tummy up?”

“rafe.” you pout, a few tears slipping down your cheeks. “stop teasing.”

“aw come on, we both know you're on birth control.” rafe rolls his eyes, but it doesn't stop him from imagining claiming you, showing the world proof of your fucking, proof that you're his and only his.

“but one day ill get you off of it. if i can't convince you maybe ill just have to switch your pills out for placebos. you won't even know until your tummy starts to swell.”

“rafe!” your tone is harsh, and it doesn't go unpunished as rafes thrusts reach even deeper, so far inside of you that you're squirming to get away only for rafe to hold you down into the bed, the mattress squishing under your combined weight.

“gonna cum right into your cervix since you're being a brat.” you can feel when rafe presses against it, your eyes widening as your high suddenly breaks, wetness gushing around rafes cock just like he knew would happen.

your pussy clamps down on rafes cock, keeping him sucked in as he starts to cum, long spurts releasing into your cunt as rafes moans and curses fill the room, echoed with your quieter whines and gasps.

“how's your pussy feel now baby?” rafe asks.

“sore.” you pout, which rafe quickly kisses off your face as he pulls out.

“fine, won't fuck you anymore then since you always complain about it hurting.” rafe shrugs, feigning like he's getting out of bed when you grab his hand and pull him back to your side.

“no!” you say quickly before taking a breath and settling in next to rafe. “no, i never said that.”

“exactly.” rafe puts his arms around you, tugging you into his chest, keeping you close to him, right where he wants you always.

[pathologicalreid]

hazardous materials | s.r.

in which Spencer takes care of you after an accident in the lab

margovember

chemist!reader masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff (hurt/comfort) content warnings: chemical burn, lab safety was ignored, first aid, cute banter, tattoos, chemist!reader, kisses word count: 1.24k a/n: every time i write chemist!reader i get bed chem stuck in my head except i've never heard the full song

“Time?” You asked, using the heel of your shoe to slam the door shut once you made your way through. Haphazardly, you dropped your backpack on the ground in front of the coat closet before rushing toward the bedroom.

Spencer was sitting on the couch, a glass of water on the side table and a book in his lap, he glanced over at you when you stopped at the back of the couch to say hi to him, “Forty minutes.” He reached out for your arm, a careful gesture just because he wasn’t ready for you to be out of his view yet, but his hand caught on your forearm.

You hissed at the contact, pulling your arm back and shaking it out, “Tight grip,” you tried to wave it off, but Spencer wasn’t easily convinced.

“I barely touched you,” he said, snapping his book closed and standing up, following you into the bedroom. “Let me see your arm,” he asked, opening the door when you tried to close it behind you.

Spinning on your heel, you shrugged at him, “Not without a warrant,” you told him. Your eyes burned as you begged yourself not to cry at the pain.

Your boyfriend reached out for you again, this time pulling you in by your belt loops, he herded you into the bathroom, holding onto your hips as he beckoned for you to sit on the countertop. The granite was cold even through your jeans, and Spencer took your discomfort as pain as he pulled your shirt off.

You grunted, frowning while he pulled your long sleeve over your head and dropped it in the laundry hamper, “It’s cold,” you grumbled, slouching as Spencer inspected the wound on your forearm. It looked a lot worse now than it had when you left the lab, the burned skin starting to develop a yellowish hue. “I have somewhere to be tonight, you know,” you reminded him.

This would be your second outing with the BAU ladies since you were first introduced to them a few months ago, Garcia had arranged tango lessons, and Emily was meant to be your dance partner. “What did you burn yourself with?” He holds your arm timidly, pinching your wrist between his index and his thumb and eyeing the burn with growing concern.

“Uh,” you hummed, bracing yourself for what is bound to be abject disappointment, “Nitric acid.”

Spencer set your arm down, resting it burnt side up on your thigh while he buried his face in his hands, “Baby,” he said from behind his palms.

When he said it in that tone, it was easily your least favorite nickname. “I didn’t think it was concentrated enough to burn,” you tried to defend yourself, looking down at the obvious mistake you had made. “It must have been mislabeled and no one caught it,” you told him, trying to shrug it off.

Dropping his hands, Spencer resorted to crossing his arms in front of his chest, “A lot of chemicals have been getting mislabeled lately.” It was an accusation, but not toward you, though you tended to be more lenient on lab safety than most of your colleagues.

“I…” You faltered, flexing your fingers and feeling the skin on your arm pull, “Yes, but—”

Spencer shook his head, “No, you have to talk to her.”

The her in question was your grad student, Leslie, who had made a similar mistake with hydrochloric acid last month, also leading to a chemical burn on your arm. You frowned at Spencer, making your expression as pleading as possible in hopes that he’d drop it.

“This can’t keep happening,” Spencer said, “I know you don’t want to make her feel guilty, but maybe she should. Maybe that’s how she learns.”

You furrowed your brows at him, “It wasn’t her fault.” You felt defensive over your lab assistant, knowing that she had asked you to be her thesis advisor made you feel the need to protect her.

He pressed his lips in a thin white line, “It was,” he corrected. “If you don’t say something, I’ll send an email to your boss.”

“Spencer,” you said, shoulders slumped in disappointment and the faint feeling of betrayal.

Raising his eyebrows, Spencer gingerly took your arm back in his hands, “I know that’s your thing around the lab, not wanting to cause trouble. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself, but I need you to take care of yourself, and you can’t do that if you keep being so flippant about these ‘accidents.’”

You knew what he was doing, turning it into something you could do for him instead of something you’d do for yourself. “I’ll talk to her on Monday, and I’ll redo the UV spectroscopy on the nitric acid,” you surrendered, giving yourself the weekend to figure out how to broach the topic.

He set your arm down again, opening the cabinets in the bathroom and shuffling through miscellaneous belongings. Between the two of you, you had quite a remarkable collection of first aid, the basket that Spencer pulled off the shelf was intimidating, “Here, hold your arm over the sink,” he instructed, guiding you gently so he could rinse the burn with saline. “Does that hurt?”

“it’s just cold,” you answered, watching him make sure any debris was flushed from the wound.

His head bobbed, setting down the saline container and moving to coat the wound with a panthenol cream, “Were you wearing your hazardous materials pin?”

Your face warmed at his question. The one time you’d been the root cause of a spill, your boss responded by gifting you an enamel pin with the hazardous materials pin, “I was.”

“Maybe it needs to be bigger,” he proposed, filtering through the bin of first aid supplies and hunting for something specific, reading the labels on everything before he put it on the burn.

The corner of your mouth quirked up when you noticed he was trying to lighten the mood, “Or have lights on it,” you offered, imagining a border of LEDs around the pin.

Spencer hummed, finding silver sulphadiazine to cover the wound with, “Now, there’s an idea.”

You laughed breathily, “I could get it tattooed,” you waggled your eyebrows at him. “It would make a nice tramp stamp,” you told him, watching his gentle fingers apply dressings to your wound, securing them as carefully as he can so your skin doesn’t get irritated.

“But then I’d be the only one to see it,” he countered playfully, inspecting his handiwork.

Conceding, you nodded, “Unless the people in the lab get comfortable with a lot of things really fast.”

Softly, Spencer leaned forward and kissed you, “I want to keep an eye on this tonight,” he whispered against your lips. “If it doesn’t get better by the morning I’m taking you to urgent care,” he told you, kissing you again before gathering the first aid wrappings and putting them in the trash can.

He stepped out for a moment, returning with an old Princeton t-shirt of yours. You gingerly pulled it over your head, making sure not to bump your fresh bandages as you did so, “But what about my dance lessons?”

You hopped off of the countertop to be met by Spencer standing right in front of you, his hands placed gently on your waist before he whispered, “I can teach you to tango perfectly fine in the living room.”

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 1

Part 2

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, eventual smut, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, mentions/depictions of death/suicidal ideation, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i nearly decided on nuking this because it feels so fucking bad and aimless guess in the end I'M really the tormented spirit huh anyway if I'm glad i didnt and decided to wait it out. if you enjoy this please think of leaving a comment and/or reblog because i need the reassurance. | cross posted on ao3

Tagging: @arabellasleopardcoat

"Father," Alicent pleads, "she needs to see you."

Otto's jaw clenches as he lifts his gaze from his desk. He looks upon his youngest child's features. You were one in the same, his first daughter and last. He thanks the gods that she did not inherit the curse you bear.

Alicent picks at her fingers while awaiting a response. Though she draws blood, no sound leaves her lips. She did not know it, but her father catches this anxious tick. He mentally corrects himself: at least she did not inherit it at equal intensity.

"A man has no place in the dressing room of a bride-to-be," the Lord Hand dismisses.

Alicent knew about as much would be said, yet she still tries, "please. She is having a-"

"And when has my presence ever soothed her?" Otto interrupts, raising his voice to make his point clear.

It was enough. Alicent understood.

He turns back to his papers. He reads them but none of the words register. He says, "I am sure your brother is already there, coddling her as he does."

Alicent does not respond.

Otto lifts his gaze, "go," he speaks as though his daughter missed the obvious, "if she needs someone so badly, coddle her with Gwayne."

Alicent returns to your chambers. Her heart pinched in every which way at the sight of you. Here you stood, clothed in one of the few precious dresses that belonged to your mother— a bride. Dark blue satin and gold jewelry embellished your form. Your brown hair was curled and plaited and pinned. Your face had a glow, only because it was stained with tears. It was terrible and magnificent all at once.

Rhaenyra goes to her best friend, and the two girls clutched hands before walking towards you. Gwayne spots them and gives your hands a tight squeeze. Because of this, you turn from your older brother to your younger sister. Your eyes are pink with melancholy.

"Lord Hand," Alicent mutters, "is deep in his work."

On his daughter's wedding day, thinks Gwayne.

Rhaenyra clenches her jaw, loathing your father more than normal in this moment.

More than your own, you cannot stomach your sister's duress. You stroke her cheek, "I am well now. Worry no more."

Alicent catches Gwayne's expression and knows that is a lie. Still, she smiles and nods, "I am glad," she looks you once over, "you are an exquisite bride, sister."

Rhaenyra offers a smile, "I agree, dear aunt."

Your face twists at the young princess's words, though you knew she meant well. You will away the dreadful sensation in your stomach and manage a smile, "thank you... sweet niece."

You relish their company for as long as you can in this moment. You gather strength from Rhaenyra's smile, from Alicent's touch, and Gwayne's words. Then, all at once, you were alone, walking towards Daemon Targaryen.

In truth, he was not curious of you. He despised you, for after all, you were the spawn of that Cunttower. But, gods, what could possibly be the reason you were taking so long to walk down the aisle? It was not like this room was that big. And so, he turns over his shoulder to inspect you. His hand remains on Dark Sister and his weight still rested mostly on one leg.

He squints at the sight of you, moving like a snail. He is about to roll his eyes, but then he catches a glimpse of your countenance.

Tis strange.

You were not nearly as repulsive as he remembered you, and not nearly as similar in likeness to your rotten twin. How could that be, when it was not only- what, a season since he had pummeled Ser Cuntface to the ground? He will never forget your screaming face in the audience, and how deliciously distressed your father had been from hauling you away.

Even now, as Daemon's lilac eyes appraised your distant silhouette, gliding towards him like a phantom intent on haunting, he second guessed if that weeping woman from the tourney was you. But then he turned to your brother and saw his jaw harden. It was unmistakable then you were the weeping woman, and now, you were his weeping bride.

Gwayne, could not help the way his hands tightened into a fist as he helplessly watched you inch towards his most ardent foe. Beside him, unmoving, stood the very man who allowed such madness to ensue: your father.

You pass the pew that seated your family. Your twin's expression softens. He nods, and you know he means take heart. Your sister does the same. But your father, who stood between his children, does not spare you a glance.

Daemon notices the coldness. He would feel bad, but then again, he has been proclaiming his ill-guided brother's Lord Hand was the biggest cunt in the realm for so long, so he doesn't. Oh, but then you look at him with those beady eyes, and he did not know why his thorax felt uneasy.

Twas strange indeed.

Soon you stood in front of your promised, and, finally, Otto lays his eyes upon you. He does not see you though. He does not see the woman dressed in the garments that once belonged to his wife. He does not see your trembling hand and glassy cheeks. He sees his timid, tremoring, little daughter that he had to leave a moon's length for work. He sees her frail body that shook on her tiny bed and found no comfort in the way he held her tiny hand when he returned.

As the septon begins this damning rite, all he could hear was the voice of the maester that promised the new medicine he procured would heal his girl. As tears rolled down your eyes, he remembers how he nearly killed the maester for feeding you herbs that caused you to retch the little food you had eaten.

Has my child not suffered enough?

Has my child not suffered enough?

ᴴⁱˢ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ ⁱˢ ᵐᵃʳʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵐᵒⁿˢᵗᵉʳ

Daemon turns to the pew beside the Hightowers' and finds his brother's face. Viserys seemed pleased to witness this wretched affair, as did Aemma, who clutched her pregnant belly. Rhaenyra beside her seemed more interested in you however, or at least the dress that she and Alicent helped dressed you in.

The septon blabbers and tells you both to speak your vows. You do, one as reluctant as the other. Then, as instructed, Daemon cloaks you and presses a kiss on your salty lips.

Twas bittersweet. On one hand, as he takes your clammy one, the image of Otto's face when Daemon told the King that he wanted to marry you comes to mind.

Oh, how excited he was to see the old fool look as though he was a breath away from lunging at him across the table, and how utterly horrendous that he hadn't. He would have simply, and justifiably, killed him. Then all this bother would not have ensued. The look upon the said man's face this moment, now that he's sullied what he so dearly protected, made his stomach giddy.

As the same time, as he held that same clammy hand of yours and felt it tremble, he remembers that you and he were bound. Though not in the manner of his house, he knew he could escape only so much of his wretched duties. Otto's vexation would only last so long, and deep down the cunt must enjoy that his daughter was now a princess. He knew soon Viserys would also begin nagging him again.

But then out of nowhere, he laughs. It was so abrupt that a few guests looked at him in confusion.

How could he forget? There was the matter of your... affliction. Perhaps he can frighten you to death on your wedding bed.

He chuckles once more.

The idea is so delicious, he is in good spirits the whole wedding feast. He does nothing but embarrass and shame you by entertaining literally every other lady save yourself.

What makes matters worse, at least on your end, is that your father refuses to go to your side and forbids not only your brother but as well as your sister from leaving their spots to come to your aid. There was no need to make the matter bigger than it was. You are left alone at your seat at the table, looking nothing but pathetic and weepy.

You sustain such temperament until you're in your marriage chambers, but then you do a funny thing and down two glasses of wine. Daemon laughs at how it spills from your lips, down your neck.

He, who had already much more than a measly two cups, comes behind you and takes the one you loudly prop on the table. You squeak and bolt away when Daemon's arm sneaks up from underneath your own; it only further amuses him.

"V'you a change of heart?" he pours himself a glass, "ready for debauchery, yes?"

You turn unbelievably pale, and it merits the fondest of laughs from your sadistic groom. Daemon drinks and licks the wine off his lips.

You gulp, reaching out a trembling hand.

He raises a brow at it. Suddenly, he's annoyed— twice was much because he has absolutely no idea what the gesture means.

That is, until you speak, "may I have some more?"

One of his faint silver brows raises. Suddenly, he is greedy with the wine he thought tasted too sour on his tongue. However, a curiosity within him urged to hand over the cheap drink, for why did his shivering wife have the nerve for this to be her first words to him?

He watched you throw your head back as you down the wine just as quick as you did the previous ones. He chuckles and crosses his arms. When you turn to Daemon, he tilts his head, "thirsty?"

You inhale deeply, though it is strangled, "for my anxiousness."

It takes a moment for him to realize what you mean, and when he does, his nostrils flare. Had he breathed fire, surely smoke would have come out his nose at this moment. Daemon releases an airy, unamused chuckle and averts his gaze, "eager to bed me, harlot?"

Your throat tightens, for that was not what you meant at all.

You forcibly swallow a lump that forms when he comes to your side. Your throat only further constricts when he grabs and yanks you into his chest. You whimper as he presses his nose against your ear. Goosebumps form when his hot breath hits your ear, "on the bed then."

Your heart thunders as he shoves you towards the bed. You nearly miss it. Actually, only your head and arms touch the cushion, and the rest of your body collides with the floor and the hard bed frame. Your tailbone throbs at the impact, but it doesn't hurt nearly as much as your chest that tightened, and tightened, and tightened and—

You barely manage to gasp. You are hard of breathing when Daemon crouches and grabs your thighs, pulling your skirts up. He feels your flesh tremble beneath his palm. His fingers touch your skin, and it brings him to hiss; you are ice against his burning hands.

He looks up at you. A line forms between his brows. You gasped for air that seemed unwilling to enter your lungs. Not only was your face stained with tears, but as well as your neck now

He mutters, "nyke pendagon jaelā naejot sagon ipradāri," I thought you wanted to get eaten, "I do so find fear delectable."

You continue to slump into the floor until you're a melted mess. You can do nothing but clutch your chest, not that it helps one bit.

Daemon is satisfied at this point. He stands and dusts his hands off. He looks at the pitiful Hightower, your dark locks spilled on the ground as if blood from a crime scene.

"Is that your affliction then, wife?" he tilts his head, "do you seize up when you're nervous?"

You look at him, but do not respond.

"S'rather inconvenient, no?" he sighs, as though he actually cared.

You shut your eyes and curl into a ball.

"Mmm, well, I suppose I will have to claim the womanhood owed of me some other time," he said, uninterested. With that, he exits the room with a skip in his step, pleased to know he had such a tremendous effect on you.

You remain in this turmoil for what felt like hours.

By the time you peel yourself up from the floor, your body is encased in sweat. You command yourself to calm; you cannot afford to slip into another bout of insanity. Your tears cannot be contained as you struggle to undo the ties of your dress; at least tremendous relief comes after you do. You struggle to your feet and remove the pins in your hair while making for the vanity table.

You sit before yourself; your horrid face reflects on the mirror that was far too clear for your liking. As you free your hair from its bounds, you think, perhaps it was fortunate that your husband did not lay with you. At least not tonight.

But then, comes to mind, the argument you with your father. Your chest threatens to tighten again as the severity of his voice replays in your head.

It was no secret, Otto despised Daemon. How then could he be so shocked at your horror of learning he had approved your marriage to him. His raging voice still rings in your head: "you ungrateful fool!"

You fall apart in your palms and nearly succumb to yourself again. Thankfully, you manage to take deep breaths and pick yourself up before you fall apart.

You always knew you were the spare in your father's eyes, but you thought that merited indifference. You did not think he hated you so deeply. How could anyone hand their child to their enemy? Perhaps this was his way of finally having use of you.

A spare. A pawn. Will it ever end?

You go to bed and wrap yourself tightly under the sheets. You stare at the ceiling, praying the same prayer you've prayed since you were eight: Seven, let this be my final slumber.

You nearly choke when you are awoken by such violent shaking. You jolt up, or at least as much as you can from the blankets you were so tightly bound in.

Daemon grins and brings the hands he had shaken you with behind his back, "I would say good morn, but it is apparently opposite to you, wife."

The name makes your skin crawl. You push yourself out of the sheets and sit up. You wipe your face and tell yourself; you must get used to this, "good morrow, husband."

Your brown curls spill down your shoulder as you sigh to yourself. Daemon thinks you look much more palatable this way, unlike yesterday, when your hair was jailed so tightly. He motions with his head, "ta. We make haste to the dragon pit."

Your eyes are suddenly devoid of any trace of sleepiness as you look at him.

His lips remain curled, "it would only be proper to do so, no?" He does not let you retort, as he is already making his way out, "tis Caraxes' right to know who his master has been shackled to," he opens the door, "at least momentarily."

If he was self-satisfied with how you shook under his grasp last night, one can only imagine his exhilaration over your severe disinterest in meeting his mount this morning. What's more, Caraxes could smell your anxiety, and it made him chuff and snap his jaws.

Of course, Daemon chastised his dragon, telling him to obey, even though he very much did not want him to. He eagerly fantasizes: oh, a shame my bride died the day I introduced him to my ride.

A true shame.

"Calm yourself," Daemon sniggers as he forcefully pushes you towards the blood wyrm, "the harder you make this for yourself, the harder it will be."

You found no encouragement in that, for no part of it meant to encourage. You continue to writhe against him, pushing yourself back, only to be pressed against the prince's chest and urged forward. It didn't help that he shackled his hands on both of your wrists, preventing you from elbowing him away.

Though your hair was braided to the side, you still manage to whip it to Daemon's face in your attempt to free yourself, only causing him to be more impatient. You could not help the harrowing shriek that left you when he ultimately brought you to the beast's maw, and the said creature pressed himself against your chest to sniff you.

Caraxes rips away and shakes his head at your piercing reaction. He shrieks in like, as if disapproving, or showing offence. He must exact appropriate retaliation. He draws a deep breath, readying to set you ablaze. Daemon would have let him, had he not been a direct target of his mount's wrath, "keligon, Caraxes!"

Caraxes hisses.

"Keligon!" Stop!

He does not enjoy the order, exemplified by the way he licked his teeth, but obeys, nonetheless. He roars one last time, spit sputtering onto your face as he does. It's enough to make you finally lose your resolve.

You cease your wrangling and find yourself going limp in his arms. Daemon is pleased. He can finally drag you on dragon-back and torment you even more mid-air. What he did not know, however, was that your stomach was tingling; it was not that of the usual dread so familiar to you, but twas familiar still.

Daemon takes you by the arm and tries to make you climb up to the saddle, but then he stills when he hears the sound you make. He pulls away just before the acid from your stomach rushes out of your mouth. You retch so much it comes out of your nose, and you feel yourself grow lightheaded.

"Fucking gods," Daemon recoils in disgust. He turns to one of the dragon keepers and orders you away.

The dragon keeper, who looked far older than your father, spoke to you in a language you could not make out. You understand the part where he says maester as he leads you out of the pit. You manage to convey you no longer needed his assistance once you were out and walked off by yourself. You flinch and shriek when Daemon takes off on Caraxes.

You do not go to the maester's, instead, you have your servants draw you a warm bath and stay in it until it is cold. Only then do you scrub your skin until it is tender.

Once you were clean, you looked for the only person in the world that did not use your name interchangeably with hysteria: your twin.

"That uliginous blinkard," Gwayne slashes the dummy before him. You watch him pace from the bench you were sat upon. "He is incapable of procuring a morsel of dignity out of his wretched existence."

You clench you jaw when he chucks his sword to the ground.

"I should smother him in his sleep."

The thought chills you.

"But then I would be no better than he, would I not?" he seethes as he walks to your side, grabbing the towel beside you.

He wipes his face. You look up at him, a line forming between your brows, "remember you are my confidant, not my vindicator."

"If not I," he chucks his towel back beside you, "then who?" His forehead wrinkles, "an affront to my twin is worse than one to myself."

"Then you would know better than anyone that I share your sentiment," you grab his arm, hoping to calm him down.

His face is hard. He pushes your hand away.

You sigh, "and you know well that I suffer more in circumstances where you've acted on my behalf."

He clenches his jaw. He draws a deep breath and denies the thought with the shake of his head, "father will not hold it against-"

"Father holds everything against me," your eyes instantly water, "he would not be our father if he did not."

Your twin has never spoken your name any other way but in gentleness, yet it is precisely why it chips you apart. Gwayne continues, "be it as it may, but I do not believe that he gave to the prince— certainly not willingly."

You laugh and lift your countenance to the sky. Tears fall from the corner of your eyes, down your ears and neck, "does it matter?"

"It does," he urges, "he fought for you."

"He does not fight for me," you turn back to him, "allow yourself to come to terms with it as I have. It will hurt you less."

Gwayne does not manage a response as someone else speaks in that moment. The way you both tense at the sound is that of instinct.

"You vomited in the dragon pit?"

You turn over your shoulder and shoot up from where you sat. You watch as your father walks towards you. He places a hand on your neck and looks you up and down, "did the prince jostle you so on his ride?"

His touch is like a searing rod against your skin, his eyes, even worse. The raised hairs on your neck remain even as he pulls away. You quietly retort, "I did not even touch his saddle."

"Oh," Otto raises his brows, "then perhaps your affliction is that of you carrying."

Carrying?

Both you and Gwayne are mortified by the idea. You stutter, "s-surely it is not that quick."

"The blood of the dragon runs hot," he sighs, "as he would so boldly proclaim."

Your face burns upon hearing this.

Your father looks past you, "take your sister to the maester at once."

"No, I-"

"Make sure that she is good condition and take note of what will be instructed of her."

"That is not-"

"I am sure she will be required to take further precautions because of her affli-"

"We did not!" you blurt, finally regaining the attention of your father.

Your heart races as Otto looks at you. Suddenly, you are like a deer shot by an arrow, pained and powerless. He is annoyed that you interrupted him, only to say nothing. He presses, "we did not what?"

You take a strangled breath before reply, "we... did not consummate ou-"

"You what?!" he steps forward.

Gwayne immediately takes your arm, eager to get between you two, "father-"

But Otto does the same and pulls you toward him, "you did not consummate, or you did not want to consummate your marriage?"

Gwayne's hold on you falters. Your saliva lumps in your throat, "I-"

"You do understand the consequences if you do not bear your husband heirs, correct?"

You turn to your feet, unable to hold his heated glare, "I-"

"Look at me when I speak to you," he shakes you.

You lift your eyes, and hot tears begin to rush down your face.

"You've proven your point, father," Gwayne blurts, "release her."

"Release her?" Otto redirects his ire. Though he does just that, release you, it feels as though an iron clamp around your neck replaces your father's hold. "Even if I were to release her, boy, your dearest twin sister will not be free of the truth," he turns back to you, "nor my point. Your failure to do what is necessary will lead you straight into the dragon's belly."

You clench your jaw tighter than anyone should.

"Do you understand, girl?"

You nod before you allow yourself to breathe. You blurt, "yes, my lord."

Otto looks you once over before turning and walking away. The moment he is out of sight, you fold like a deck of cards, and Gwayne must keep you upright.

He hushes you and sits you back down. He kneels in front of you, observing if you were about to collapse into another episode. You do not, for he was with you, but you do weep until tears could no longer fall. He leads you to your room after this and urges you to rest.

You repeat the prayer you prayed on your wedding night before you sleep.

[wagconts]

𝐅inally a yes | Charles Leclerc

summary :: Where you finally accept Charles' proposal.

word count :: 1.090 words.

It was hard to believe that Formula 1 had become your life. Since you were little, fast cars and the stories behind the drivers had always fascinated you. Growing up in a family where Sunday mornings meant mandatory race-watching certainly helped. But simply watching wasn’t enough—you wanted to be there, part of that world. That desire drove you to study sports journalism, always with the goal of one day covering the pinnacle of motorsport.

Your first big break came when a small European motorsports website hired you to cover the junior categories. During that time, you met Charles Leclerc. He was on the rise, racing in Formula 2 and impressing everyone with his talent. Although you didn’t spend much time together back then, Charles had a charisma that was hard to ignore. He was kind, polite, but with a hint of sarcastic humor that made every conversation unforgettable.

You were always in front of him, the interviewer. It wasn’t intentional; you were simply following orders. But soon, you became a familiar face to Leclerc—not just your face, but your name as well.

Years later, your dedication finally led you to what once seemed like an unattainable dream: working directly with Formula 1. Now, as a reporter for a global network, you traveled the world covering races. Life was hectic and full of challenges, but one thing—or rather, one person—made everything even more complicated: Charles Leclerc.

From the day you crossed paths with Charles again in the paddock, he never missed a chance to start a conversation. At first, it was just quick remarks between interviews, casual exchanges. But over time, Charles became more direct, throwing in flirtatious comments disguised as jokes.

— You know you can interview any driver, yet you keep coming back to me. It’s fate, ma chérie — he’d say with that confident smile that made you laugh despite yourself, even as you rolled your eyes in response.

Your friends in the paddock quickly picked up on the dynamic between the two of you, especially Gasly and Norris, who never missed an opportunity to tease.

— Charles, how many times are you going to get turned down before you give up? — Pierre would mock, while Lando chimed in: — I think he likes the challenge. More exciting than overtaking Max on track.

You’d just shake your head, trying to ignore their comments, but sometimes you couldn’t help but laugh, which only encouraged Gasly and Norris further. To them, your laughter was like a sign—one that you weren’t entirely shutting Charles out.

This wasn’t the first time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Despite Charles’ countless attempts, you always had a ready excuse for not accepting his invitations: work, commitments, exhaustion... But deep down, the real reason was fear—fear of complicating your already chaotic life. Mixing work and romance wasn’t a path you wanted to tread lightly.

Everything changed during the Monaco GP. It was the most glamorous race on the calendar, and the city’s atmosphere seemed to conspire for something different. Charles, of course, seized the moment.

— You’re in Monaco, my city, and you still haven’t seen the best spots. I think it’s the perfect time to finally say yes — he said, wearing that confident look that always threw you off balance.

For some reason, your mind worked differently that day. Lately, you’d been wondering what might happen if you did accept one of Charles’ invitations. A thought struck you like a pang in your heart: you’d never know what could truly happen unless you gave it a chance.

— Alright, Charles. I’ll go. But only because you won’t stop insisting. — Liar.

His grin was so wide it was like he’d just won a race. — You won’t regret it, I promise.

When you finally saw yourself in the mirror wearing that dress, it hit you—you had agreed to a date with none other than Charles Leclerc. If someone had told you this back in the Formula 2 days, you’d never have believed them.

Charles made sure to plan everything. He picked you up at the hotel, dressed in a crisp white shirt that was both stylish and casual, contrasting with the excitement in his expression. The destination? A small seaside restaurant, far from Monaco’s bustling crowds.

— I wanted a place where we could really talk, without distractions — he explained as you walked to a table overlooking the water.

— That’s exactly what I had in mind for this... outing — you smiled.

— Away from the media?

— Definitely.

The conversation flowed naturally. Charles shared stories about his childhood in Monaco, how he started racing, and the challenges he’d faced along the way. You, in turn, talked about how your passion for Formula 1 began and the behind-the-scenes aspects of your job.

— I’ve always admired your determination — he said, his tone suddenly serious. — Not only did you make it into this world, but you’ve stood out. That’s not easy, especially for someone so... captivating.

You felt your cheeks heat up at the compliment, but before you could respond, Charles shifted the mood with a playful comment about how he deserved credit for being so persistent in getting you to that dinner.

After the meal, Charles suggested a walk along the harbor. The night was clear, and the city seemed to glow even brighter under the moonlight. He led you to a quieter spot where yachts were anchored, away from the main activity.

— Did you know my first karting win happened right here? — he said, pointing to a spot near the harbor. — I was just a kid, but that day changed everything for me.

— Maybe tonight will change everything too — you replied without thinking, immediately regretting it when you saw the smile spreading across Charles’ face.

Charles stepped closer, shaking his head. — Maybe it will.

The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of waves lapping against the boats. Before you could say anything, Charles leaned in slightly, his gaze locked on yours.

— May I? — he asked, his voice low, filled with anticipation.

You nodded, and the kiss that followed was soft yet meaningful, as if all the tension between you had finally found its resolution.

That night, something truly changed. For the first time, you stopped resisting how you felt about him.

[kimstills]

thinking about this with hotch… he’ll always give you princess treatment and when he sees you’re too riled up about anything (whether you’re in the bau or have your own job) he’ll just take matters into his own hands

stress relief

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: aaron helps you unwind after a stressful morning

content warnings: smut, 18+, minors do not interact!, established relationship, stress, oral (f receiving), face riding, rough sex, praise, breeding kink in form of dirty talk (mentions of birth control), overstimulation, choking, squirting, multiple orgasms, spanking, use of nicknames, aaron being a good boyfriend.

word count: 3.2k

a/n: this is the link anon meant to send! it somehow didn’t send w their request >:/

Aaron has always been able to read you like a book, even before you two had started dating.

He always said that it was because he was a profiler, but really it was just because he knew you. He could tell whenever you were upset, stressed or exhausted. No matter how hard you tried to hide it.

So it didn’t come as a surprise to him when he walks into your shared home office and immediately picks up on the stress you’re feeling.

“Sweetheart?” He asks, giving the wood of the door a soft knock.

You don’t answer, eyes focused on the screen of your laptop in front of you.

“Y/N.”

“Hm?”

Your head snaps up, and what Aaron subconsciously expects to be greeted with is quickly dethroned by a plain “Oh, hi.” He doesn’t blame you, though.

It doesn't take a profiler to know what you're feeling. Your brows are pinched tightly together, leg bouncing rapidly, shoulders hunched and—the most patent feature—your eyes a teary, bright red.

He quickly rounds your side of the desk, every tired bone in him replaced with the urgency to check up on you.

"Sweetheart," he sets a gentle, careful hand on your shoulder. "What's wrong?"

The tenderness in his voice and touch is enough to make your eyes water again. You throw your face into your hands before Aaron can see them actually spill and a sob shakes your body.

"Honey--"

"No." You state, your voice hoarse and muffled. You take a long sniff and wipe at your eyes before focusing on your laptop screen again. "I have to finish this."

Aaron glances down at your screen, brows furrowed in concern when he realizes what you're working on. Your screen is open to several browsers and files, your research paper for your final assignment open in the very middle.

He sighs internally. Of course. He remembers you telling him that your professor was a stickler for these assignments and a strict grader. He recalls the many times you've cried to him about the harsh words he'd tell you when he followed up with you in emails and all the times he'd find you passed out on this very desk, overworked from trying to finish everything.

"Sweetheart, didn't you say that this isn't due until a couple of months?" He tries to ask nonetheless, kneeling down next to your chair.

You sniffle, throwing up the hand that rests on the top of your head, exasperated, "Yes, but I need to make sure it's good enough."

“It will be.” Aaron says, wheeling the chair around so that you were facing him. He feels his heart pang at the sight of your tear-stained face, “Sweet girl, everything you turn in is exceptional. Don’t let one professor ruin how hardworking of a person you are.”

A single tear runs down your cheek and Aaron is quick to catch it with the pad of his thumb. His hand comes to caress your face when you don’t say anything else, though he knows you know he was a point.

Aaron pulls you to your feet gently and encouragingly, pressing you flush against his chest and rubbing his hands up and down your back. He can feel how tense you are, your stress practically radiating from your body.

An idea begins to form in his head at your tensity, your face buried in his neck as you practically melt into his touch.

He presses a kiss to the side of your head, hand sweeping at your hair, “C’mon, sweet girl,” he whispers. “I know what will make you feel better.”

You sniffle, following him regardless your confusion.

He leads you out of the shared office and into your shared bedroom. He doesn’t bother turning on the big light of the room, carefully guiding you inside and turning on the lamp that rests on the nightstand on his side of the bed.

Aaron sheds his suit jacket, discarding it somewhere on the floor haphazardly along with his tie and taking a seat at the very edge of the front of the bed. His hands come to your hips, pulling you forward so that you were settled in between his legs.

You follow his motions, lips set in a soft pout as your hands come to rest on his shoulders, "Aaron, what are you--"

You're cut off by the muffled sound of his back falling against the mattress, his legs hanging off with you still standing between them.

"Sit on my face."

Aaron can see the way your face heats up, can feel it. He knew you were shy when it came to sitting on his face so he could eat you out, but he didn't care for it.

The only thing on his mind was helping you destress and making you feel good.

"W-What?" Despite your confusion, you still find yourself squeezing your thighs together, already feeling the slick begin to pool at your panties.

"You heard me, sweetheart," Aaron's voice is gentle yet somewhat demanding, encouraging but not wavering or relenting. "I want you to sit on my face."

"But... why?"

Aaron chuckles. You were too cute, uncertainty drawn on your puffy, tear-stained features. He sits up from his position, hands settling on your hips, "Because I want to make you feel good."

You stare, nibbling at your bottom lip while he caresses your sides, your already short pajama bottoms riding up each time his hands went up.

He gives your skin one final squeeze before laying back down, giving you that stare he always gave you when he wanted you to do something and do it now.

"Shorts and panties off. Then sit."

His tone immediately jumps you into action, hands pulling both your shorts and already soaked panties off shyly. You straddle his lap, whimpering as the cold air hits your pussy as you rise to his chest.

"Aaron..."

He cuts you off with a tender hush, "Sit, honey. I want to make you feel good until you forget all about that paper."

With both a huff and a pout, you bashfully crawl towards his face. Your breaths come out in stutters and gasps when your bare pussy rubs against his soft yet defined chest.

You stop at the very top of his torso, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt hesitantly.

“Aaron, are you—”

Aaron cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence, evoking a wrangled cry of surprise from you when he finishes dragging you down until you’re sat flush on his face.

You both groan in unison, your hands shooting out to grip the headboard in front of you as his tongue immediately shoots out to lick a long stripe up your folds.

"Aaron!"

He pays no mind to your cries and digs his fingers into the skin of your hips so that you couldn’t move away from him. You writhe against him but his tongue expertly laps at your sopping pussy, soaking his face in the process. He begins eating at you like a starved man, wasting no time. Like his only purpose was to make your mind go blank.

Which, technically, it was.

And your mind does just that, all earlier protests and diffidence long gone. Your head is thrown back in a growing haziness as the feeling of Aaron’s hot mouth on your cunt infiltrates your every sense.

He laps at your entrance, teasing and prodding before kissing and lapping your folds. His nose brushes at your clit occasionally with each dip of his head and you could feel your stomach clench each time.

“Taste so sweet, pretty girl,” he hums, the vibrations sending chills up your spine and making your pussy flutter around his face. “So good for me, baby. So good.”

Your cries of utter pleasure fill the room and a cast of sweat slowly begins to build on your body and forehead, the heat from below extending everywhere. You lift the hem of the shirt you were wearing, one of Aaron's old, practically raggedy, university shirts, and tug it over your head.

Aaron watches you toss it somewhere in the room, hungry gaze focusing on the lacy lounge bra that adorned your breasts. It's soon easily discarded alongside his shirt, your tits coming into a perfect view from above him.

Both of his hands leave your hips to caress your tits and you whine. The skin of his slightly rough palms envelop them in his hands, squeezing gently yet possessively all whilst maintaining his attack on your pussy.

“Aaron, mmh—fuck,” you wrap your hands around his wrists, gripping them tightly for support. You lean backwards, further enveloping his face in your dripping folds.

Aaron grunts and the vibrations only edges you further on; the touch of his hands on your tits, his thumb and pointer finger twisting and tugging at both of your sensitive nipples turning everything into a pleasure-filled haze.

“Gonna cum, pretty girl? Gonna cum on my face?” Aaron asks, voice and raspy from below. It makes the coil in your belly tighten even more.

“Yeah, y-yes, yes,” you mumbles, eyes closed and legs shaking from where they cage his head on either side.

Aaron keeps his eyes trained on you, your fucked out form clearly close to snapping as your hips began to grind back and forth against his soaked face.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. Cum on my face.”

A certain bite on your clit is what sends you into a frenzy, the tightness in your lower belly snapping as your orgasm washes over you. You babble mindless, incoherent things, body shaking and grip tightening on Aaron’s arms.

Aaron doesn’t relent, though. His tongue laps at your release eagerly and purposefully whilst giving more encouraging squeezes to your breasts before sliding down to your ass and taking handfuls of the flesh just the same.

“Aaron, Aaron, baby—!”

You moan loudly when he doesn’t stop, your body stuttering as he continues to eat you out with such fervor that you wonder if he’s still doing this for you.

You’re proven wrong, though, when his encouraging words begin to work you up for another orgasm despite barely coming down from the first one.

“That’s it, angel. One more on my mouth,” he says, voice rough from the misuse. “This is all about you, take what you need.”

Aaron’s name echoes through the room in high-pitched whines and shaky breaths, his lips still sucking harshly on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

It only takes a couple more gentle bites and sucks for your second high to wash over you again, eagerly and dumbly riding it out on his face with your eyes rolled back into your head. Each harsh grind makes Aaron groan into your arousal and he soaks in the way you make a mess out of his face.

Your breaths are shallow as you slow your hips to a stop, chest heaving. You move to settle yourself on Aaron's lap again, whining when the dull ache shoots through your sore thighs.

Aaron lets out a low grunt when your bare, still soaked cunt brushes against his painfully hard dick, the outline of his boner potent even through the slacks he was still wearing. It didn't help that he could still taste you with just a lick of his lips, his face slick.

He brings a hand to push your hair back from your sweaty forehead, cooing at you when you preen tiredly under his touch. "So good, sweetheart, did so good. You still with me?"

You nod, still attempting to catch your breath.

"Good. Means we're not done yet."

He doesn't give you a chance to protest before he's maneuvering you around so that you were off his lap and settled on to your knees. You whine when your front hits the mattress, your back arching instinctively as Aaron positions himself behind you.

Your pussy glistens even in the low lighting of the bedroom, your juices dripping down to your thighs and onto the bed. It makes Aaron undress himself all the faster, discarding his clothes in a pile before walking over to you and dragging you near the edge of the bed.

You gasp at the feeling of his cock pressing against your slick folds. You’re already nearing overstimulation yet you can’t help yourself when you push back against him.

“Aaron…” you mewl, turning your head to look at him.

Aaron lets out a low chuckle at the sight of you: eyes red and puffy and lips turned downwards into a pout, all topped off with a tear-stained face and a fucked out expression.

He loves it, loves that the effect you have on him equally matches the effect he has on you. And he especially loves the way his plan to get you all needy and cock drunk in order make you forget about your schoolwork is working.

He sets his hands on the globes of your ass, thumbs spreading your folds apart. He groans at the sight of you clenching and unclenching around nothing and raises a hand to land a stiff smack against your flesh, earning himself another whine.

You fist at the bedsheets and let out a wanton sob that sounds somewhat similar to a choked plead.

Aaron shushes you gently, grabbing his length in his hand and slapping it against your drenched folds. He smirks when your body jerks and stutters from the action, and he mockingly coos at you before lining himself up against your entrance.

A low yet high-pitched moan emits from your lips as the girth of his length slowly begins to split you open and stretch you out. You bury your face in the covers, gripping the fabric like a lifeline while your velvety walls envelop him completely.

Aaron’s hips slap against your ass as he bottoms out and he has to take a breath in order to stop himself from cumming right then and there.

“So good, sweetheart. So tight. You okay, my love?”

You whine but nod, your face rubbing against the comforter and surely leaving a trail of your spilled tears behind.

Spank! Spank!

You cry out, your ass stinging and burning up from where his hand lands.

"Words, honey. Use your words."

"Y-Yes! S-So good, so good." You let out a stuttered gasp when he pulls out only to slam himself back in and begin fucking you with a slow but deep, hard pace.

Aaron’s fingers dig into the side of your hips that he’s sure there’ll be bruises there in the morning. He delivers another harsh spank to your flesh and watches in delight as it ripples under his palm before speeding up his pace.

You’re a crying mess from below him, mouth open as sweet sounds pour out from your salivating lips. Your noises of pleasure mix in with the sound of skin slapping against skin repeatedly and harshly, each thrust sending you further up the bed.

Aaron groans from above you, feeling your pussy grip him like a vice each time he shoves himself back in to your hole. He knows he was doing this for you but, fuck, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't having the time of his life buried deep inside you.

"F-Fuck," you wail, feeling your legs shake violently as another orgasm begins to approach. "'M so close, s-so close, please."

"Yeah? Gonna cum around my cock, baby?"

You nod feverishly, unable to form any words with the way the tip of his cock prods at your cervix with each thrust. He was so big, so thick that it felt like you were being impaled in the hottest way possible.

It only takes a couple more thrust for you to be sent into a spluttering mess, your body convulsing around him violently as more saliva drools from your mouth with each muddled, vacuous string of words.

Aaron doesn't slow his pace even as you cry out for him to stop, tightening his grip on your hips as you try to run away from him.

"Uh-uh, honey," he tuts, reaching in front of him and grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling you up so that you were sitting on your shaking knees. "Not finished with you yet. Gonna fill up this pussy, fill up my girl with my cum."

You can't do anything but moan in his hold, letting out a choked sound when his bicep comes around your neck to put you in a headlock but without too much force. Your head rests thrown back against his shoulder as he mumbles dirty, yet sweet praises into your ear, his voice sending further chills down your spine.

"You want that, baby? Want me to fill up this pussy with my seed?"

You moan loudly at his words, nodding as best as you can with the way he was holding you.

Aaron knew you were on the pill, knew you took it consistently and religiously because a baby was not in the books for the two of you. But, still, he loved the way your pussy always clenched harshly around his cock with this type of talk.

"Yeah, gonna fill up my girl's belly so that you don't have to worry about anything else besides keeping my come inside that pretty pussy."

He sneaks a hand down your stomach, spreading your folds with his finger before starting an attack on your swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves.

You scream out, hands shooting out to wrap around both of his forearms. Another coil in your lower belly begins to form, this one stronger and more urgent than any other one you've had this night. Your nails dig into Aaron's skin and you mewl when he grunts directly in your ear.

Aaron nudges your face with the back of his wrist so that you were facing him, pulling you into a messy kiss as he continues swiping his finger around your clit until you're an even shakier mess.

"A-Aaron," you pull away, "I-I think 'm g-gonna--"

You don't even get to finish your sentence before you feel yourself gush around his cock, your release squirting everywhere. The bed is immediately soaked, the spluttering juices not stopping even as Aaron slows down his pace on your clit.

"Shit, baby," Aaron whispers, fastening his pace as his own release sputters in ribbons of white inside you.

You whimper, body trembling violently as his movements come to a rugged stop. You slump against the bed when he lets go of you, paying no mind to the way you lay in your own mess as exhaustion consumes your body.

Aaron rubs at your ass soothingly, slowly pulling out of you and cursing under his breath as his come spills out of your soaked folds.

"So good, my love. You did so good for me, sweetheart," He smiles fondly when you hum at his praises, leaning forward to press sweet kisses to the side of your face. "Don't fall asleep, pretty girl. Gonna go run us a bath, okay?"

You nod, eyes already closing.

Aaron chuckles, brushing your hair out of your face before standing up to get the bath ready.

"Oh, sweetheart," he calls out, stopping at the threshold of your room. "What were you doing before I came home?"

"Don' remember," you mumble, nestling into the sheets.

Aaron smiles.

[mrskokushibo]

Dinner Party

Kyojuro x Sanemi x Tengen&wives x fem!reader

Warnings: Sex, Dirty Smut, MDNI, NSFW, strictly 18+. Group sex . Modern AU. Nearly 5k words Smut. Orgy. Rough oral.

Summary: Sanemi, your husband Kyojuro, and you enjoy dinner with Tengen and his wives at their place. The party ends with...sex. Essentially a pure smut. Enjoy!

Part 2: After Party out now

Masterlist

As Kyoujuro’s wife, you spent a lot of time with his co-workers. They all worked at a small, tight-knit firm that the three men founded together. Kyoujuro was friends with Tengen and Sanemi long before the two of you met, and they were the first people, even before his parents, that he introduced you to. And they were a lovely bunch. The flamboyant Tengen with his three gorgeous wives and the slightly on-edge Sanemi – a forever bachelor - the guy had much luck with women and yet did not seem to want to settle for anyone.

It was Saturday night and Tengen had you all over for one of his lavish dinners. His wives, Makio, Hinatsuru and Suma were the most gracious of hosts, preparing stunning meals and creating a lovely atmosphere with their bubbly personalities. The house was a modern villa, with a large and stylishly decorated living and dining space all wrapped around a Japanese-inspired closed-in courtyard that housed a garden and an onsen. You all usually stayed late into the night, chatting away, watching movies, and drinking.

The atmosphere tonight was just as friendly, however, something seemed to be on Tengen’s mind all night. He kept on giving you quick glances all through the dinner and lowering his gaze every time you caught him doing it.

After dinner, everyone made themselves comfortable in the large lounge, the girls snuggled up to Tengen, but he kept on looking at you, his gaze baring mischief. Kyoujuro, as always, was a bit too tipsy to even notice what Tengen was doing, he did not drink on a normal basis, so every time he did, he could not really handle it. He leaned his head on your shoulder and said out into the room,

‘Maybe we should go home now y/n, and leave our lovely hosts to enjoy the evening.’

‘Well, Kyo, good that you speak up, I was just about to suggest that you all stay here with us tonight’

The gorgeous white-haired man suddenly said, all the time looking you in the eyes, his movie-star smile was as wide as it got.

‘It is fine. Thanks for the offer, but we can take a taxi home, no need to have us mess up your guest room’ Kyojuro replied.

Tengen threw his head back and laughed.

‘Oh, no, my dear Kyo. Innocent as always.’ He smirked. ‘What I meant is, that you join us for our nightly activities this evening.’

He looked you in the eye again, as in anticipation, and then confronted you with zero shame.

‘What do you say, y/n. Would you mind sharing your husband with my girls?’

You looked at your husband and he was simply too stunned to even react. Before you could answer Tengen, he nodded toward Sanemi

‘How about you? Care for some fun?’

Sanemi smirked ‘You know I am always up for a good fuck.’

Tengen looked back at you and Kyojuro.

‘So, how about you guys?’ question directed more at you than Kyo.

You looked at Kyo whose cheeks were now red as a beet.

‘What do you think?’ you asked him

‘It is up to you, I guess’ he nearly stammered.

You looked back at Tengen and something very basic was waking up in you. His normally charming gaze was also turning darker and you now knew nothing better than to succumb to your baser instincts.

‘I am up for it. Yes, for sure.’

You looked at Kyo, who was staring at you in shock.

‘Baby, you will have fun. You will see. Besides, it would be rude to disappoint our gracious hosts.’ You smiled innocently at him, while your thoughts were anything but.

Tengen stretched out his arm to you and spoke

‘Come here then.’

When you walked up to him, he stood up and said to his wives:

‘Ok, you three have fun with the boys, I want this one to myself first’ With that he grabbed you by the hand and started to lead you away to their bedroom.

In the meantime, Sanemi shamelessly waved in Makio and Hinatsuru to come to him and soon enough the trio was getting on with clothes being ripped off and moans starting to fill the space. Kyoujuro was still seated in the same spot, but now with a visible erection growing in his pants. Suma walked over to him and knelt between his legs.

‘Do not be shy. I will help you relax’ she giggled massaging his clothed dick and making him moan quietly.

You were now being led through the spacious house to Tengen’s bedroom. His large hand holding yours softly and a sweet smile graced his handsome face. Your anticipation was growing with every step, your pussy slowly tightening and wetness forming between your legs. You always admired Tengen’s looks and physique, but honestly always dismissed any dirtier thoughts from lingering for longer than a flash of a second. But now, you were granted the possibility to finally explore and revisit all that you always pushed aside. At last, you reached the bedroom. It was big by normal standards, but not as large as you would imagine, most of it taken up by a huge bed. There were multiple doors leading to what you could make out as two ensuite bathrooms and nothing less but four separate walk-in closets. Walls were adorned with artwork and there was a large tv on the opposite wall. The room smelled of jasmine and other floral notes you did not quite recognise.

Tengen was standing behind you with his hands placed on your shoulders. He pressed himself tightly into your back and leaned down to kiss your neck. His large, muscular body was cradling you perfectly and he had to lean down far to reach your neck due to the considerable size difference between the two of you. You could feel his hard dick pressing into your waist and you started grinding yourself back on him. It felt huge, the hardness against your soft backside making you want to rip his clothes off and fuck him straight away.

His hands were now moving down your neck to your breasts. The feel of his large, warm hands on your exposed neckline was making you so freaking hot. Soon enough he was massaging your breasts with both hands, not being fully satisfied with touching you through your clothes, he reached down into your lowcut top and into your bra, playing gently with your nipples. You were eliciting some very lascivious moans as he took out your boobs from the bra and out of your top. He was tracing your neck and sides of your cheeks with his lips all the while you were bucking your back into his hard-on. He started to remove your top, with skillful hands unclipped your bra and tossed it to the side, and finally slid down your skirt and panties. All you were left wearing were your lace top stay-ups and high-heeled stiletto shoes.

Slowly, he started pushing you lightly, making you move toward the bed. He pushed far enough that you were now leaning over the edge of it supported by your stretched-out arms. He spread your legs wide and went down on his knees behind you spreading your ass cheeks and licking up a quick line along your wet folds. He kept on licking you between your legs with the flat of his tongue, but he needed better access to work more meticulously.

So now, he gently helped you switch positions and you were soon lying flat on your back with legs spread wide for him. He removed his shirt and you gasped at the sight of his naked torso. He grinned widely

‘You like what you see?’

He was very aware of what his looks did to women and found it amusing at times, but without being cocky about it. His fingers were spreading your labia and he focused on rubbing on one side while licking your clit area with slow and light movements of his wet muscle. A finger was drawing circles around the opening of your cunt with him increasing the pressure on the inside of your labia. You were experiencing so much pleasure now, all you could do was close your eyes and moan like a whore.

He kept his movements on you steady and firm, not moving from any spot until your moans were not as loud anymore, skillfully seeking out the next more sensitive spot by listening to your vocal response and the movement of your hips. He was essentially doing what you used to when you masturbated. His pussy eating skills were unmatched. As he felt your arousal intensify, your pussy clenching and spasming more and more he was now narrowing down his movements closer and closer to your clitoris, slowly sending you into overdrive. He was not cruel, however, and feeling you were about to edge, he now applied extra pressure on your clit and worked until you could no longer control yourself, the sensation of needing to pee quickly turning into an avalanche of ecstasy. You squirted all over him and kept on moaning even as you were descending from your high.

He climbed onto the bed next to you and started kissing you, making you taste your own juices.

‘You taste so good, y/n, I cannot get enough of you.’

Your hands were already fumbling with his zipper and soon you were sliding his pants and boxers off. When his dick was exposed, you stopped your action and grabbed hold of it, him doing the rest of the undressing. You were completely mesmerised by its size. Sure, Kyo was not small and you had your fair share of cock before him, but this? This was on another level. Tengen was nearly two meters tall and not directly lanky, with a strong muscular build so his size would most likely be reflected in his dick, but this was more than you ever thought was possible. Nine inches maybe? You swallowed and started slowly to lick him up his shaft, making him sigh in pleasure.

You were licking him and stroking with your hands for a while, lapping up the precum that steadily leaked out of his tip. Opening your mouth wide you started to sink yourself over his dick while pumping the rest of the huge shaft with one hand. He was rubbing you between your folds again, creating new wetness that was now running down your thighs. Come over here ‘he whispered and guided you to sit down on his face.’ You were in a full sixty-nine now. One of your favourite positions.

With a firm grip on your hips, he pulled you down so that you were fully seated on his mouth and started snaking his tongue into you. At the same time, you were now enthusiastically sucking him off, your cheeks hollowing and small gagging sounds coming out of your mouth every time you sank down on his length. He was gentle with your blow job, not bucking his hips nor pushing down your head. He was aware of his size and had enough control and experience to immerse himself in you doing the work for him instead.

His tongue was working relentlessly on your clit, with you bucking your hips back and forth to create more friction. You were edging now, but too focused on giving him pleasure to have your own release again. He must have felt you clench and get wetter as that went straight to his dick, you feeling it twitch, stiffen and a few more sucks later he came into your mouth, filling you up. You swallowed eagerly, the pleasant salty taste of him tantalising your senses. While you were licking him dry, he intensified his pressure on your crotch and you came again. Not a huge orgasm this time, but good enough to make you scream out briefly.

Now you lay next to each other, enjoying the lingering sensation of contentment and the warmth of still pulsing, blood-filled and swollen genitals. His hand was tracing lightly on your folds, smearing all the cum that leaked out of you.

You were now curious about what was going on in the living room… You lifted your head up a little and was listening to the distant sounds of pleasure. Tengen smirked and picked up a remote control. After a moment of fumbling the tv turned on and what came up on the screen was a bird’s eye view of Tengen’s living room.

‘You have cameras in there??’ you asked.

‘Yes, they are security cameras, but I just realised they could come to good use’ he said with a broad grin.

What was happening on the screen was a full-blown orgy.

Sanemi had Makio and Hinatsuru working on his cock, with Hinatsuru sucking his balls and Makio bobbing her head up and down with Sanemi pressing her head down in an unkind manner. His head was thrown back on the headrest and his teeth were gritted in pleasure.

All the while Kyoujuro was frenetically thrusting his hips and cock into Sumas backside who was moaning loud enough to wake up the neighbourhood.

You were staring at the screen with your pussy gradually getting wetter (if that was even possible from how soaked you already were). You were interrupted by Tengen, who was positioned between your legs with the large cock erect once again. Your look must have unveiled your worries as he said in a soft voice

‘It will fit. I promise. You are so wet anyway’. He smiled.

With that, he parted your pussy with his fingers and positioned his tip at the opening, pushing in slowly. The feeling of a cock this size filling you up was making you absolutely wild with arousal. You were moaning for every inch he was gaining on you. His actions were pure perfection, he really had an intimate knowledge of the female body. He could not bottom out yet, his cock simply too huge and your pussy clenching ferociously. But that did not bother him much. You would eventually open more.

He now started gently pumping his dick into you while watching the footage from the living room. He tilted your chin and turned your head toward him and with a delicate stroke to your cheek, he said in a soft but slightly condescending tone.

‘Do you like what you see?’ It was almost a whisper. ‘You are a very dirty girl, aren’t you?’

‘How about we give my girls a break and I call the boys in here for you? I think you might enjoy that…. I do not think you are satiated yet; I can see it in your eyes.’

You swallowed. You knew so well what he had in mind and the thought of all three males giving you this kind of attention made your body basically limp with arousal.

You kept on watching until everyone in the living room climaxed. Tengen pulled out of you, got up and disappeared into the living room. When he appeared on the screen you could hear him tell his wives to relax and put champagne on cooling. He needed the three men in the bedroom with you and him and you all would be a while, but you all would join the ladies in the hot tub for a relaxing soak and champagne afterward. The girls giggled and walked out of the living room.

The screen went empty and a moment later the three men appeared in the bedroom. Kyo with a heavy blush covering his face, the confident Sanemi with a smug smirk and finally Tengen with a peaceful expression in his smiling pink eyes.

‘Well, well, well. Aren’t you a horny one. Sure you wanna take all three of us at once?’

Sanemi blurted out in his usual cocky manner.

‘Did you know she was like this?’ he asked turning to Kyoujuro.

Kyoujuro’s normally gentle eyes started to narrow and you could see he was on the verge of saying something he would regret. Luckily, the tactically minded Tengen, being the older one here, took reign of the situation and said

‘Hey guys, let’s not bicker, we are all consenting adults here. I think we should get to it before your nagging puts y/n off’

he looked at you and when he was sure they could not see his eyes, he rolled his eyes in a conspiratory gesture toward you, something that made you smile through pressed lips and nod your head to him lightly. You were getting very used to his charming demeanour. 

‘Ok, ok. We can get started. Btw, are you ok with taking it up your ass y/n? No offence, but there are three of us here’

Sanemi noted, but got quickly interrupted by Tengen

‘Nemi, seriously, It is up to y/n, however, she has not prepped herself. So no, I can answer on her behalf that that is off-limits tonight. Y/n, do you agree?’

‘Yes, totally.’

Sanemi sighed deeply, almost as if in disappointment. So, he was into anal, hey? You learned something new tonight.

Sanemi was the first to walk up to you, his erect heavy cock bobbing with every step. He knelt down beside you and started massaging your breasts and enclosed his lips on one of your nipples. You started moaning, his massage of your boobs getting more intense and his tongue flicking your nipple faster now.

‘You know, I might just fuck your tits then, since you won’t put up back there’ he said with a grin.

With that, he straddled your torso and positioned his hard dick between your breasts.

‘Now, sweetheart, squeeze them together for me so I can fuck them’

You did as he asked and soon his dick was sliding back and forth between your tits, his leaking tip coming close to your chin with every move forward. In the meantime, you could feel a large finger spread your labia again, Tengen was getting ready to fuck your pussy. You were so wet now, that he did not need any more prep, but instead, you started to feel that enormous dick of his being slowly pushed into you again.  He felt so fucking good and his movements were just perfect. You completely understood how the guy could satisfy three women. Kyoujuro was the last to join, standing next to your face, the blonde was pumping his thick cock next to your mouth, and looking at you with those hungry amber eyes you were so used to. You opened your mouth eagerly and he slowly pressed himself past your lips, your tongue snaking on the incoming length. His hand stroking your hair gently.

‘Fuck, Kyo, she is such a slut, taking us so good. I could though sense her being on the wild side the first time we met, she was too hot to be tame’

Sanemi spoke through gritted teeth, his little dirty monologue stopped by Tengen who flicked his finger at the back of Sanemi’s head.

‘Shut it, Nemi. Just enjoy yourself, will you? But, hey Kyo. Y/n is lovely and if she does not mind, I would love to have an encore of our evening’

He spoke with quite a strained voice now, being engulfed in his own pleasure. Right now, it was only Tengen and Sanemi who were making you weak with pleasure, Tengen’s cock hitting all the right spots with every slow thrust and Sanemi pinching and rolling your nipples with his calloused fingers. You were eliciting muffled moans onto Kyoujuro’s cock, but to be honest, you were not sucking him with much enthusiasm, being so engulfed in what the two white-haired hotties were doing to you.

Suddenly, Kyoujuro grabbed you by the hair and yanked your head backward. The look in his eyes was wild and fierce and he hissed through his teeth:

‘You are neglecting your wifely duties, my dear. I think I must show you how to behave properly.’

With that, he shoved his full length into your mouth making you gag. This really took you by surprise, almost so you did not recognise your so otherwise playful and gentle lover. You looked at him pleadingly, but he did not seem to care, continuing to thrust into you while holding your hair tight. You were completely at the three men’s mercy, taking whatever they were giving to you, and thanks to Tengen you were receiving a lot. The pressure in your belly was increasing and you were now edging. You tapped Sanemi on the arm

‘squeeze the other nipple too, please Nemi’

He smirked and granted your wish. The action of his rough hands on your hard buds was what was needed to push you over the edge and you climaxed, your scream only muffled by Kyojuro’s cock inside your mouth. The spasming of your pussy was now too much for Tengen as well, and soon enough your clenching muscles milked him hard and  you felt the warmth of his cum inside you. When he pulled out, you felt so empty, you pulled away from Kyojuro’s cock and tried to look around Sanemi to send your plea to Tengen, but right then it was Sanemi’s turn to orgasm and you were met with thick ropes of semen spraying your face and landing in your open mouth.

Kyojuro was now really annoyed, once again having your attention stolen like this. He shifted his position so that he was facing you just behind the top of your head where you were lying down and then hovered himself over you, with his hips over your face and his face toward your belly. His heavy dick now hanging down in your face, he tilted your head slightly backward and pushed himself in your mouth with the intention to mouth fuck you properly. He was fast and rough, almost choking you. His grunts were hoarse and deep. This was not the most comfortable fucking you experienced, to be honest, and you were surprised by his sudden roughness.

Luckily for you, Tengen dove between your legs and started teasing your now overstimulated clit. His licks and massage were just as good as the first time he made you come. You were slowly adjusting to Kyojuro’s actions and focused solely on enjoying what Tengen was doing to you, him now flicking your clit faster and faster until you dissolved in another orgasm, squirting all over his handsome face. He smiled and lapped up as much as he could of your juices. The sight of all this must have finally been too much for Kyo, who now actioned a sloppy thrust and emptied his balls deep into your throat.

His load must have been huge as when he pulled out a fair bit leaked out onto your cheek. You were too fucked out to even notice that your face and neck were literally smeared with cum. You just laid there in bliss. Sanemi and Kyoujuro were both also lying on their backs in the large bed, panting. Tengen though was too considerate to leave you hanging. He walked up to you and lifted you up in his arms.

‘You look like you need a shower’ and carried you to the bathroom.

‘Can you stand up?’

Surprisingly, you could.

‘Good. I am glad to see that you can.’

He turned on the shower and when he deemed the temperature to be just right, he led you in there and embraced you, whispering into your ear

‘Just so you know, I really, really want to see more of you like this. I mean it’

You looked into his enchanting eyes and felt like this would be a lovely arrangement.

After you showered you joined the group in the onsen and all of you enjoyed the rest of the night with champagne and conversation flowing freely.

Banners by @adornedwithlight and @cafekitsune

Tagging: @muzansfangs @doumadono @horror4themasses

[007reid]

187. spencer reid (18+)

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: you're dealing with a dumb, whiny boy and you are wondering where your boy genius went.

warnings: 18+, sub!spencer & dom!reader, dumbification, whining, whimpering, overstimulation, handjob, orgasm denial, begging..you know the rest ;)

a/n: this is a result of too much ai spencer tiktok edits....wrote in a rush on my phone late at night but that's how fanfiction are meant to be written. enjoy angels <3 requests are open if anyone want to drop by!

“okay spencer, this is an easy one. can you answer it for me baby?" you pause expectantly, and it takes him a while, but spencer only mewls in response, frustrated. "what states are next to louisiana?”

you see spencer’s eyebrows slowly pent up in thought but then he immediately gives up in lieu of letting out another pathetic moan, bucking up uselessly to your fingers. “answer the question baby," you prod sweetly, kissing your words into his cheek.

“i-hnfgg…” he pants breathlessly, eyes shut tight and when they flutter open, they are round with plead. “please, it hurts so bad, please let me cum i—“

you let go of his cock entirely and he whines, trying to shuffle closer so that you would touch him. in response you move away further, smirk at your lips. “be a good boy for me and i will.”

“i am being a good boy for you!” spencer whines, his eyes blown with need and watering, body writhing pathetically against the sheets. his dick is flushed an angry red and you know he’s only several strokes away from coming undone, being so closely attuned to your boy. “i’m being good i—“ his words hitched in his throat as you gently caress only the tip of his cock, teasing.

“the good boy i remember is super smart,” you slide up to him, pressing a leering kiss on his jaw. “the guy has an iq of 187. can you believe that? how rare is that?”

spencer doesn’t answer, his pleas and whines soft and stuck in his throat as he keeps trying to buck up his hips to get more of your touch, but with no avail. “hm? how rare is it spence?”

“i don’t know!” he cries, tears leaking and wetting his pretty lashes. “i—please it hurts so bad, just please let me cum i’ll do anything, please!”

“answer me and i’ll let you cum baby boy,” you say smoothly, removing your hand from him (which elicited a very impatient groan) to spit on your palm before going back again, moving your hand up and down his shaft deliberately slow. you know it drives him crazy, even crazier than he is right now and you soak in the satisfaction of it. “how many people has your kind of genius spence? hm?" you add encouragingly. "get this one right for me and i’ll let you cum baby.”

“i…uhh….” he's slow, and even slower with your hand working and overstimulating his already-sensitive cock. “one out of every hundred million people. 1000 who ever lived,” he finally decides to peel open his eyes again, searching your face for any hint of approval. as a response you flick up your wrist quickly and he nods his head back, an obscene and needy moan coming out of his mouth.

“and the states surrounding louisiana?”

his head snaps back immediately and stares at you in betrayal, like a kid being scammed out of his cookie, completely flustered and debauched. “you said one question!”

“i changed my mind baby,” you soothe, pressing an apology kiss in the corner of his mouth. “the faster you are the faster you get to cum. do you want to cum honey?”

“yes! yes i wanna cum so bad,” he cries, hands coming up to rest lightly at your waist and you can feel the tremble in them. the heavy feeling at the pit of his stomach has been there for at least half an hour now and you’ve just been toying with it, reliving it then bringing the pressure back. now he’s an absolute mess, curly hair sprayed on the pillow and stuck to his forehead, his pretty, delicate face ruined with tear stains, but it just makes him prettier. he’s completely at your mercy, writhing and whimpering and begging you to do something about his looming orgasm and you denying him of it.

“then answer the question baby boy,” you murmur encouragingly in his ear, fingers still teasing him. he’s so sensitive and overstimulated to the point that a single touch can make his entire body jump, so you are careful. too much and he might actually loose it, and you both know this. “you remember it, right spence?” you press, "the question?"

“hnngg,” he whimpers when you start biting on the lobe of his ear, grabbing and squeezing onto the sheets for dear life. “umm…arkansas and… i-i don’t know,” he admits shamefully, then desperately tries to make up for it. “but i got the first one! you said if i get it i could cum. i’ve been such a good boy for you, just this one time, please!” he begs, not in control of what he says anymore and it shows. he’s completely delirious and fucked stupid, and you take pity on him.

“aww, my sweet boy,” you coo sweetly, running your fingers through his messy mop of hair and pulling it away from his face for him. “i’m sorry angel, but if you can’t get it right, you don’t get to cum,” you whisper faux apologetically in his ear. you see when spencer’s eyes widen with horror, and the tears begins to fall freely.

“please,” he begs, his fingers pleadingly reaching out to try to touch you, convince you to change your mind. it’s a foolish and naive attempt, and he knows it too but can’t help taking his chances. he’s desperate for anything. “please, i’ll be so good for you. i’ll be your best boy. i promise. i swear. it hurts so bad y/n please, i cant take it—“

“fine,” you give in, only because you know for a fact that he can't last any longer. really, you're surprised he's managed to make it this long so far; you had already planned his punishment in your mind. your boy deserves his reward.

you speed up your movements and the sounds coming out of his mouth becomes wanton, sobs becomes louder and his whines a pitch higher and he’s strung high like a violin string, ready to snap. “cum for me, pretty boy.”

at your command his body gives out obediently, thick strings of cum spitting out of his cock, painting your hand and his hips, coating at his thighs. he twitches and his thighs tremble weakly as small blurts of cum starts to collect at the tip of his cock and you kiss him during all of it as he cries against your lips. he pants hard, and when you accidentally swipe a finger over him, he whines painfully and inches out the way, sore. when it’s over, he collapses into you, spent.

“thank you,” he says, sounding genuinely grateful, his voice muffled and his face buried in your shoulder. you laugh, fingers smoothing out the mess of his hair, pulling his head back and pressing kisses all over his face. spencer needs the aftercare, especially after being edged on for so long, needs the love and the assurance and the cuddles afterwards. "i love you."

"and i you," you say, smiling when he whines predictably, unsatisfied.

"you gotta say the whole thing," he says, looking mildly upset, lips jutting out and giving you the fattest, most foul and adorable pout, eyes big and searching.

"'m sorry," you weave your fingers with his, and he presses a kiss against your knuckles. "i love you."