#it’s been like two weeks and I think it’s time to admit that I’m not doing the best

[miley1442111]

the fifth kiss- s.reid

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a/n: season one, episode 18 'Somebody's Watching'

summary: lila archer gets in the way of you and spencer.

pairing: spencer reid x fem bau! reader

warnings: general cm topics, the team don't know about you and spencer, injuries, reader gets injured, spencer shoots someone. (i think that's it, tell me if i missed anything :))

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You sat in your hotel room, confused at the events of the day. Maybe it was the sweltering LA heat, or maybe it was the awful way Lila and Spencer were making goo-goo eyes at each other. 

You had been at the gallery with him and his sub-par flirting. At least Lila was happy. When Spencer  had to leave he was practically begging you to convince Gideon to leave him with Lila. 

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“Sprence, we have to go,” You grabbed his shoulder and went up on tip-toes to whisper in his ear. You started walking out of the gallery with Gideon and noticed Spencer didn’t follow. 

“Spencer!” Gideon called to him. 

Spencer walked up to you. “Do you need me? Or c-can I stick around here for a while?” He smiled shyly. 

“Gideon wants you so I’d just ask him,’” you shrugged. 

“But… Can you just ask him?” Spencer pushed. 

“Spencer!” Gideon called. “Y/n!”

-----------------------------------

When Detective Kim asked you to look at the crime scene, and when the rest of the team was called, everyone knew that you’d be most helpful in this case. You’d been in the violent crimes division which meant you’d be able to accurately tell them if it was a gang, what kind of killer it was, and why they were doing it. On top of that you were definitely the most qualified to talk to Lila Archer when she came back with the note from her stalker/ the unsub because of your year as a liaison on a team in London. 

“Hi, I’m Agent Y/l/n, this is Agent Morgan, Agent Greenaway, Agent Jareau, Agent Hotchner, and of course, you know Agent Gideon and Doctor Reid,” you introduced the team as she came into the room. “Agent Morgan and I will ask you some questions, if that’s ok?”

She nodded her head but her eyes stayed glued to where Spencer had his arm around you. You two were best friends, in the team's eyes. In reality, you two had been dating for the past 4 weeks. You hadn’t told anyone since it was only new but you really liked him. But, you two had sex and he hasn’t asked you out again. Granted, you’ve both been busy but… doubt was starting to creep in. 

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“Did you know Natalie Ryan?” You asked.

“We spoke when we were in public, but we were never friends,” she shrugged as she picked at her nails, clearly uninterested in what you had to say. 

“What about Wally Mellman?” Morgan added. 

“What about him?” she asked. 

“He was killed a few months ago, did you know him?” You asked. 

Lila shook her head. “I read for a part but they went a different way.”

“What way?” Elle asked as she entered the room. 

“They cast another actress… it was Natalie,” she admitted. 

“Nice way to get rid of competition,” Morgan said, eyeing her agent beside her. 

“Hey it wasn’t me! I brought her into this damn police station,” he defended.

“Alright, do you ever feel like you’re being watched?” You asked. 

“All the time,” she scoffed. “It kind of comes with the territory.”

“Yes, but an unusual amount,” you continued. “Something out of the ordinary that happens regularly-”

“Repetitive phone calls with hang-ups, gifts left anonymously,” Morgan started listing. 

Lila wasn’t listening and she definitely wasn’t cooperating. 

“Ms. Archer?” you asked. Her eyes snapped back to yours. 

“Pardon?”

“Is there something more important you could be doing right now?” You snarked.

“Why isn’t Dr. Reid in here?” She asked. 

“He’s busy,” Elle answered. “I can assure you, you are with the people you need to be with right now.”

“Yes, but why do I need to be with all of you?” She asked and your blood boiled. 

“Because we’re the people on the team that have worked on stalking cases before, Dr. Reid, hasn’t,” Morgan gritted out, anger spilling from him too. 

“Now back to the questions, does something out of the ordinary happen on a regular basis?”m You asked. 

“I receive flowers,” she admitted. “On the 7th of each month they just appear in my trailer. Never a note, just a plain glass bowl. Red anemones, my favourite.” 

“And you’ve never questioned who they’re from?” Elle asked. 

“Celebrities get anonymous gifts all the time, she has fans y’know?” 

“Does the number 7 mean anything to you? Did you meet anyone on the 7th, or in the 7th month of the year?”

“No,” she said, definitively. “I would remember.”

“Alright, who would you have told about red anemones being your favourite flower?” you asked.

“I don’t know, I guess my friends and family?” she sighed. “Can we be done now?”

“Lila, I need a list of people who would know that those flowers are your favourite, like… my boyfriend knows that my favourite flowers are blue lilies-” Lila’s eyes snapped to yours and immediately sized you up. 

“Who’s your boyfriend?” She asked. “Are you dating Spencer?”

“No, I am not dating Dr. Reid,” you lied. 

“Why are you two so close?” She questioned. 

“Am I interviewing you or are you interviewing me?” You snapped back. “Ms. Archer, two people are dead because of you, that’s the reality of the situation. Dr. Reid is working your case, just like the rest of us. So, I suggest you start cooperating before someone else gets hurt.” 

Lila’s eyes clouded and glossed over, she left the room, sniffling and on the verge of tears. You didn’t care. She was withholding information for no reason other than the fact that she liked Spencer. 

“What happened?” Spencer demanded when he walked in. “Lila’s crying.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fucking brat.”

Elle and Derek nodded their heads in agreement while Spencer pulled a face of confusion. 

“Spencer, she’s just like every other Hollywood starlet, selfish, self-centred, and really annoying,” Elle chuckled and both Derek and you laughed with her. 

“She's a person who’s going through a very hard time right now,” he stated then turned his gaze on you. “and you spoke to her in an unprofessional way.”

You scoffed. “Right…” 

“I mean it, she told me what you said.” 

“You mean… the truth? Two people are dead because of her,” you sighed. “Listen Spencer, I don’t want to fight you over your clear crush on her,” something you hadn’t wanted to admit earlier. “So go for it, sleep with her, kiss her, I don't really care.” 

Spencer’s eyes widened. He hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend yet. You’d been on 4 dates. You two weren’t ‘dating’. 

“Y/n-” Spencer tried but you got up. 

“I’m going to grab some coffee,” you announced, then left with Spencer behind you. 

“What do you mean you don’t care?” Spencer asked in a small voice as he stood behind you. 

“Spencer, we both know you have a crush on Lila, if you want to go for it, go for it,” you sighed. 

“But I… what about us?”

“We both know you got what you wanted,” you shrugged. “I just never thought you’d be like that.”

“W-what am I like?,” he stuttered.

You ignored his stupid question.“And Spencer, I don’t really take kindly to people questioning my ability to do my job, alright?” 

Spencer just nodded, and walked away.

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You cared. You cared a lot. 

That’s why you were sitting in your hotel room alone and crying, confused about the day. 

There was a knock at the door. You opened it and found Gideon. 

“Evening?” You questioned as you let him in, brushing the tears off your cheeks. 

“You and Spencer need to talk,” he stated. 

“About what?”

“Your relationship, for one,” he sighed. “You two are both in love with each other, we can all see it, and now you’ve sent him off to go sleep with a movie star because he can’t stop stuttering around her?”

You looked away in embarrassment. “The goo-goo eyes didn’t help,” you shrugged, speaking like a dejected child. 

“What was your first date?”

“We don-t- we aren’t-”

“Yes you did. Now tell me, what was your first date?”

“We went to the cinema near his apartment, we saw this Italian film, ‘La Chimera’, then we got lunch,” you rattled off.

“What was his body language throughout?”

“Gideon-” you sighed.

“Tell me,” he said sternly.  

“He was nervous, he kept messing with his hands, he was stuttering, and when I kissed him he tensed up for a few seconds,” you rolled your eyes at Gideon’s antics. 

“Exactly, and who is the only person on this team that Spencer genuinely seeks out to touch?” He asked. 

“Me.”

“Exactly.” 

“But still, he also likes her and I don’t know if you noticed but I’m not her!”

“But you’re you, and Spencer’s in love with you.”

You sighed. “I sent him off.”

“What?” He asked, horrified. 

“I told him we were ‘casual’ and that I didn’t care if he dated someone else.”

“Why would you do that?” He hissed. 

“Because I thought it was the right thing to do!”

“You’re supposed to be intelligent!” He groaned. 

“I know!” You shouted back. 

Gideon sighed and walked closer, pulling you into a hug. “You two will be ok.”

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You sat beside Lila as she got into makeup. “I’m not stopping my life,” she stated. 

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” you sighed. 

Spencer walked up beside you two with a coke in his hand. 

Lila turned her nose up at the coffee that she’d been drinking for the past few minutes and you almost laughed when she took his coke, expecting him to grab it right back. Your mouth dropped open when hee let her drink from it, then took a drink right after. She was called to the scene and you rolled your eyes. 

“You don’t mind sharing with me, do you?” Derek teased. 

“Shut up.”

“Go get ‘em loverboy.”

When Spencer met your eyes you swore you saw regret, or some kind of remorse in them. You ignored it.

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“We were too late,” Gideon’s voice rang over your phone. 

“Shit, she’s going to be devastated.” 

“Don’t tell her yet,” he asked.

“Course.”

You hung up and gathered Lila and Spencer and some of her things. 

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You got picked up by Derek and Detective Kim, and you sent Spencer and Lila on their way. 

“How are the two lovebirds?” Derek asked, exasperation and irritation clear in his voice. 

“Oh, they’re all great, never a dull moment where she isn’t trying to get into his pants,” you sighed as you three walked out of the paparazzo's apartment. 

“Where are we headed next?” you asked. 

“Lila’s. We need to bring more people to her, maybe even get her to a safehouse,” Kim sighed. A motorcycle started and before you knew it, you were against the car and groaning in pain. 

“Y/n! Are you alright?” Derek shouted. 

“Yeah, it just grazed,” You nodded, looking at the flesh wound the bullet had left behind. “Get to Kim,” you told him. You reached for your gun and shot after the motorcyclist but they got away. 

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After being bandaged up, you and Derek sped to Lila’s house to find Spencer and Lila soaked. 

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“I fell into the pool,” Spencer admitted sheepishly. 

“Sure, I’m sure there’s a bunch of photos of it,” you nodded sarcastically. You walked away, an uncertain heartbreak settling deep in your gut as you went through the photos, ripping them out, for his sake.

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Spencer felt awful. He had been rude to you, he’d gone against you, he’d kissed someone else. 

The entire time, all he could think about were the four times he’d kissed you. 

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One. 

You two were outside the lunch place he loved and you’d both spent the entire meal talking about the film. It was comfortable, and probably too domestic to be a first date but Spencer didn’t mind. He loved the way you and him were comfortable around each other. 

“So I’ll see you at work on Monday?” You smiled, that perfect smile that drove Spencer crazy. 

“Yes, you will see me at work on Monday,” he smiled, breathing out slowly. You chuckled, then wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss you. Your lips on his genuinely re-wired his entire being. He felt butterflies and heat run through him, until he kissed back. Then he knew that this was an addiction. That he wanted to kiss you every moment of every hour of every day for the rest of his life. 

You had to guide his hands to your hips and it was a bit of a laughing/ kissing thing, but it was amazing all the same. 

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Two. 

Spencer stood in your kitchen, grabbing his coat from the chair when you kissed him. This time he was prepared. His hands immediately went to your waist, large palms spanning over the navy colour of the sundress you were wearing. God you looked beautiful. 

Again, your lips on his was something he’d never get enough of. How perfect you felt. How beautiful you were. He was sure he was in love. 

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Three. 

You dragged him kicking and screaming to a farmer’s market, but in the end he’d enjoyed it. He’d enjoyed it because you’d actually kissed him twice. Once when he remembered something minute about you (How could he ever forget?) and another time when you’d simply wanted to. You and that damn sundress. 

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Four. 

You were at his apartment and you were on his lap. He had been painfully hard as you continued kissing him and slowly grinding down on him. 

“Do you want to…?” you asked, a hazy lust-filled smirk on your face. 

Spencer just nodded. 

“Do you have a condom?” You asked and chuckled when he sheepishly shook his head. “It’s fine, I’m on birth-control,” you smiled and Spencer just followed your lead. 

After what felt like hours of you just sinking down on his ridiculously large cock, you finally started moving. 

“Oh fuck,” you mumbled. “You’re so big,” you groaned into his ear. Spencer whimpered as you slowly moved up and down his length. 

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he had thought about fucking you, a lot. Sometimes you were under him, sometimes you were over him, it didn’t matter. He wanted to fuck you. 

And that he did. 

After you fucked him on the couch, he turned it around and slammed into you with such vigour his couch moved. His fingers explored your core and once he ended up tasting you, he knew he couldn’t go back. He spent half an hour between your legs, licking and fingering you, moaning with you as if he was getting pleasure from it as well, which he was. 

Once the both of you were cleaned up you fell asleep in his bed with his arms firmly around you. The next morning you both smiled at each other, not exactly shy but still hesitant to talk about what had happened. Spencer knew that was the right moment to ask you, but he couldn’t. He wanted you, all of you. He wanted you to be his girlfriend, then eventually his fiancee, and eventually his wife.  

He was head over heels in love. 

And when you kissed him sweetly, nothing like the sex-fuelled kisses from the night before, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven. 

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“W-what happened?” Spencer asked, signalling to the bandage on your arm. 

“A bullet grazed me,” you shrugged. 

“A-are you okay?” he asked. 

“Fine,” you gritted out. You didn’t look at him, in fear of catching a glimpse of those damn puppy-dog eyes. 

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As Spencer apologised to Lila, you searched the house. 

The house was big, too big for one person to live here but you digressed. As you searched you gave yourself a moment to think over the events of the past 48 hours. 

“Who’re you?” A blonde woman asked from her seat at the vanity. 

“Who’re you?” you asked, pulling your gun. “Spencer!”

You could hear Spencer and Lila running to you. 

For the second time that night, you were on the floor bleeding. Great. The police officers out front started running into the house as Spencer reached you. She’d hit you in your chest. 

“Shit,” Spencer cursed. He pulled out his phone and called an ambulance. The officers took down Maggie and you were rushed to hospital. 

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Hours and hours of surgery later, you were awake with Spencer’s hand in yours. 

“Hi,” he smiled softly. 

“Hi.”

“I’m so sorry,” he sighed. “I was so stupid, I shouldn’t have let you walk away like that. I’m so sorry-”

“It’s alright,” you smiled. “I’m glad things worked out between you and Lila.”

Spencer’s face dropped. “I don’t want Lila. I want you. I’m in love with you. I only want you.”

Your heart sped up, you could hear it on the monitor. Both you and Spencer laughed. 

“Good. I’m in love with you too," you smiled once your laughter had subsided.  

He leaned down and kissed you softly. 

The fifth kiss. 

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #bau team #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #matthewgraygubler

[pepperonidk]

9:10 p.m. || k.mg

Pairing: mingyu x gn!reader Summary: just some sleepy time tv time with your best boy Warnings: suggestive Word Count: 540

a/n: had a migraine, called in sick at work, and spent the whole day watching totally spies. 9/10 experience, but mingyu's the 1 i need. i'm on a mingyu kick lately

main masterlist || taglist

“So they’re… spies?” 

“Yeah,” you replied. “It’s literally called Totally Spies. That’s the whole thing.” 

You felt Mingyu’s chest rumble from behind you as he chuckled. You snuggled further into him and he pulled the blanket up higher over the two of you. 

“And you used to watch this when you were little?” he asked curiously. 

You hummed in confirmation. “The gadgets, the fashion, it was iconic. This was my James Bond.” You turned your head up to see Mingyu smiling, still watching the TV and leaned up to press a kiss against his neck. He chuckled again at the way your lips tickled his skin. 

"How did they even become spies?" he asked.

"Honestly, I forget," you answered him. "But I think they just randomly kind of fell into it. They were just normal rich teenage girls in Beverly Hills." He nodded as he kept watching, the girls fighting a handsome jewel thief on the TV.

“I have to admit,” he began, his words stretching into a yawn. “It is pretty cool to watch.” 

“Sleepy?” you asked. 

“A little,” he confessed, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist in a cozy embrace. “But we don’t have to go to bed just yet.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, baby,” he smiled down at you. “It’s the first time I’ve been able to spend the night with you in weeks.” 

“And you wanna spend it watching Totally Spies with me?” you chuckled. 

“I wanna spend it with you,” he corrected. 

You shifted in his lap, turning to straddle him instead so you could see his face directly. He smiled and lifted a hand to your cheek. 

“Have I told you lately what a cheese ball you are?” 

He shrugged and reached his other hand to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. “Not in the last 24 hours at least,” he smiled. 

“Well you are a cheese ball,” you teased.

“And you love me for it,” he pressed a kiss against your cheek as you squealed. 

“And I love you for it,” you confirmed with a laugh. Mingyu continued to press ticklish kisses against your skin. As you tried to pull yourself away from him, he pulled you tighter into his embrace and eventually fell into laughter with you. He pressed one final sweet kiss against your lips before finally relenting and letting you go. 

“What was that about?” you asked with a smile. It was the type of kiss that still made you blush even after all this time. 

“Missed kissing you,” Mingyu shrugged, leaning into you to kiss you again. He reached a hand behind your neck, as if he wasn’t close enough to you. He tasted like the strawberry candy he’d been snacking on during your tv session and you smiled against his lips. 

When you finally broke for air, Mingyu looked flushed. Before he could lean in for another, however, you stood up from the couch and reached a hand down to him. “Let’s go to bed,” you coaxed. 

He pouted up at you as he rubbed circles against your hand in his. “I’m not sleepy,” he protested. 

You smiled playfully at him before tugging him up anyway. “I didn’t say we were going to sleep.”

taglist: @yksthings @alonelystarfish @celestialchans @coveyland @xuimhao @sana-is-ms-rmty @jespecially

#seventeen #mingyu #svt mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu fluff #kim mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #kim mingyu fluff #mingyu imagines #seventeen mingyu #kim mingyu #kim mingyu imagines #kim mingyu angst

[spiteless-xo]

╰┈➤ long distance. ⋙ Jean has been travelling a lot for his new job and it's taking a toll on both of you. One late night, when you're feeling lonely, he surprises you with a phone call.

ft. jean/reader wc. 5k cw. explicit content - minors do not interact, fem!reader, smut, phone sex, vaginal fingering, sex toys, masturbation, fantasizing (oral sex, vaginal sex), dirty talk, pet names (baby, sweetheart), name-calling (slut), established relationship, second person POV

Jean’s been gone for a week, now. This is the longest the two of you have ever been apart since you moved in with each other—it’s weird, but you’re adapting.

He took the promotion because of the sizable raise, saying that it would help secure a future for the two of you. And it was the way he had said it that had convinced you. The hours were longer and he needed to go out of town several times a year for meetings, but it was all for the future—Our future, he had said.

But tonight is the seventh night you’ll be going to sleep alone. The seventh night you’ll have to curl up under the covers to try to keep yourself warm. The seventh night you won’t have the comforting weight of Jean on the bed beside you, the soft sounds of his breathing helping lull you asleep.

You would never complain to him, of course. You already know how much it pains him to sacrifice so much time with you—and to know that his absence leaves such an empty hole in your chest? You’re certain he would give it all up to come back home to you.

So instead, you bite your tongue and put on another episode of your favourite show. You curl yourself up a little tighter in the sheets and try to let the soft sounds from your laptop help you drift to sleep.

But that doesn’t work, because suddenly a familiar buzzing sounds from the nightstand and you scramble out of your nest to lunge for the phone.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hi, Jean,” you coo, breaking out into a wide grin at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back to the hotel,” he sighs heavily. As he speaks, you can hear the rustling of clothes on the other end of the line—shrugging off his suit jacket, maybe loosening his tie. “Meetings all day today and after work, some of the other managers took me out for drinks.”

“That sounds fun. Did they get you drunk?”

“A lil,” he admits, chuckling. “I figured, why not? It’s covered by the company.”

“Sounds fun,” you say, trying to be supportive. You wonder about the group that took Jean out—other managers, he said. When you think of the management at Jean’s firm, they’re all stuffy, boring, older men. Definitely not the type who’d be interested in going out for drinks on a weekday after work. Does that mean there are younger people at the office Jean’s visiting?

“Did you make any friends?” you pry, feeling guilty from how your heart clenches with jealousy.

“Yeah, there’s a cool group out at this office—I’m having a blast.”

That’s not the answer you were hoping for. “Oh, I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“Yeah,” he says with an easy, relaxed sigh. “I wish you were here though.”

You crinkle your nose—it’s like he can tell how annoyed you’re getting. “Oh, yeah? There aren’t any other cute girls at that office?”

“The only cute girl I know is the one I left back home.”

“Gross,” you say, but your cheeks are getting hot and you have to force a pout to tame your smile. “I miss you, Jean.”

“I miss you, too, baby,” he sighs. “Did I call too late? Are you going to bed?”

“Soon. I was just going to stay up for another episode.”

“Good,” he says and the raggedness of his breath has you squirming on the bed. “I was thinking about you a lot today.” He gasps—a soft, airy sound that sends jolts of electricity shooting down your spine—is he…? “I was thinking about the night before I left.”

“Oh?” you prompt and he chuckles. “What about it?”

“I miss you a lot,” he repeats, speaking with a heavy exhale. “Can we… try something? I really want—I want you, right now.”

“Sure,” you hum, and you can already feel warmth blooming across your skin.

“What are you wearing?”

“Um…” his question catches you off guard. I look down at your pyjamas: one of Jean’s old T-shirts and a pair of loose-fitting shorts. It’s not exactly the sexiest thing in your closet, so you scramble for an answer. “I’m wearing… lingerie.”

“Really?” Even over the phone, you can hear Jean’s eyebrows raising in surprise. “No, you’re not,” he realizes with a scoff.

“No, I’m not,” you agree with a giggle and Jean huffs. “Sorry—next question.”

“N-next ques—no, that’s not how this works,” he groans, audibly frustrated. “You have to like, be sexy. Like, say something that’ll turn me on.”

“Jean, I’ve never done this before,” you admit.

“It’s ok,” he says, his voice low and soft. “I’ll walk you through it—just try to get comfortable.”

You let your eyes slip closed and try to imagine that you’re lying in bed with Jean instead of talking to him over the phone. He called when he got back to the hotel, so he’s probably still dressed in his work clothes.

You love his work clothes. Tight-fitting, dark slacks that hug the muscles of his thighs. Crisp, white dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up around his elbows, exposing his strong, veiny forearms.

You picture him laying back against the pillows of the hotel bed, his legs sprawled out in front of him and his thick cock straining against his slacks. He’s probably already palming at it, you think, based on the soft grunts he keeps making over the phone.

How long has he been worked up like this? Did he duck out of dinner with his coworkers because he was throbbing against his leg? Was he already flipping through old photos on his phone as he waited in the elevator?

The thought makes you burn with arousal and you press your thighs together to quell the ache, swallowing thickly.

“You comfy?” he asks and you nod.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Where are you right now?”

“Lying in bed.” You brush the palm of your free hand against the sheets, smoothing them out.

“Are you cold?”

“Not anymore.”

“No? Getting hot thinking about me?” The raspy growl of his voice has you squirming. “Me too. I was thinking about how much fun we had before I left,” he continues, “Do you remember?”

Your hand starts to make its way down your stomach. “Can you remind me?”

You can hear the way Jean’s mouth splits into a smile. “You were laying on your back in bed—just like you are now—and I had my hands on your thighs, spreading your legs open for me.” Jean releases a shaky breath and you can hear the rustling of the sheets on his bed through the phone. “You were already so wet—soaking through your pretty, little panties and I hadn’t even touched you yet. Just kissing your stomach, your hips, your thighs—you were squirming so much for me.”

Your eyes flutter shut, your mind replaying that night as Jean describes it. You remember looking down at him between your thighs, his broad shoulders keeping your legs open as he mouthed at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. His darkened eyes were focused on your face, watching your reaction as he brushed his stubble against your skin.

You remember how desperate you felt for him—how badly you wanted him to hook your underwear out of the way so he could lower his mouth down onto you. You remember begging him to touch you.

“Jean,” you whine, hand slipping between your thighs. You’re just as worked up as you were that night—and he’s not even here to see it.

He groans and you can hear the familiar clink! of the metal of his belt. Your mouth starts to water in anticipation, listening closely for the dull zip of his pants as he frees himself with another ragged breath. You use your fingertips to ghost shapes around your clit through your shorts—you can feel it throbbing and aching to be touched.

“So wet and needy,” he grunts. “Fuck, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to touch you or taste you. I just knew I wanted to feel you cum. Needed to hear your pretty moans—the way you say my name so breathy and cute when you’re getting close—fuck, baby, I needed it.”

“Jean,”

“Fuck, sweetheart—just like that.”

You rest your phone on your chest, thumbing the speakerphone button to free both hands as you hook your thumbs into your shorts. You drag them down and off of your legs before spreading yourself open. Keeping your eyes closed, you pretend it’s Jean’s big, rough hands touching you instead of your own—grabbing at your thighs, your breasts, your throat—before slipping between your legs to rub at your clit through the thin cotton of your underwear.

Just like before—you’re already soaking through your panties. You squeeze your breast tightly in your opposite hand and your breath catches from the action—it’s almost like he’s here with you.

“I’m really wet,” you murmur, feeling your body temperature rise in arousal. As your fingers slip lower, you can feel the silky wetness soaking the cotton of your underwear. “Jean, I’m making a mess.”

“Yeah?” he asks, smiling. “Are you touching yourself?”

You hum in response, not daring yourself to speak against as you desperately try to hold back your whines from your own soft touch.

Jean swallows loudly and you can hear him grunt over the phone. “Yeah, me too.”

After his confession, you can clearly hear the soft schlick of his palm around his cock and you allow yourself to audibly whimper. “I wish you were here,” you confess, sliding your hand underneath the waistband of your panties.

“Me too,” he grunts. “I really wanna touch you—feel how wet you get for me, even when I’m all the way over here.”

You can hear him grunting louder and it’s so fucking hot that you find yourself slipping a finger inside, shuddering from the feeling of your pussy squeezing around it. “Jean, I need you.”

“I need you, too,” he sighs, and you can hear his palm moving faster along his cock. “I wish you could see how—fuck—how fucking hard I am right now,” he groans, voice growing deeper and breathier.

You hear the distinct sound of Jean slapping his cock against his stomach and your mind is flooded with lewd thoughts. You can visualize it so clearly—thick and heavy in his hand, probably already leaking precum from the tip. You imagine Jean’s hand wrapped around his cock, gently pumping up and down along the length and squeezing the head until another bead spills out.

You slip another finger inside of yourself, whining at the feeling—not quite as thick as Jean’s fingers, so you miss the satisfying ache of your body stretching around him. “I want you,” you gasp, pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “I can hear you—fuck I can hear you touching yourself. You sound so fucking wet.” He groans so deeply, it rattles straight through to your core, and you can hear his hand working along his cock again. “Are you using your fingers?”

“Yeah.”

“Go grab a toy. Which one do you want?”

“You.”

He laughs, “I know, baby—but I’m not there.”

You whine pathetically, biting your lip as you tease yourself. You pump your fingers languidly into your body, curling the tips of your fingers and struggling to find that place that Jean always finds so easily. Rolling your head to the side, you look over at your bedside drawer and think about what you have inside.

Vibrators, dildos, handcuffs, blindfolds—a wide assortment of different toys that the two of you have collected throughout your relationship. Jean always loves to tease you with a toy before giving you his cock—something smaller and thinner than he is, making you beg to be filled. 

You slip your fingers out from between your lips but keep running them up and down over your slit. You slide up to swirl across your clit, but never give yourself the pressure you need. It’s difficult to think when you’re turned on like this—all you want is Jean, Jean, Jean.

“I want you to use your vibrator,” he says. “The Rabbit.”

You roll to the side, slipping off your bottoms with one hand while the other reaches over to slide open your bedside drawer. You find the Rabbit quickly, it’s all its bright purple glory. Despite its size, it’s still smaller than Jean—not quite as thick or as long—but the length vibrates and there’s a small external vibrator for your clit. This is one of your favourites.

You set the toy on your stomach, reaching again into the drawer to find a small bottle of lube. You pop the lid open as you say, “I’m going to put lube on it,” and squirt some onto your palm before working it along the length.

“Yeah,” he grunts, “wouldn’t wanna hurt that pretty pussy.”

Jean slaps his cock against his stomach again and you can easily picture the way his precum strings from his abs to his tip. The head of his cock is probably red and swollen, aching for release as Jean grips himself hard around the base. You imagine his hand creeping down to grab his balls, tugging them down between his legs until the skin on his cock pulls taught, lifting it from his stomach before slapping back down.

The sounds make your mouth water. You love the salty taste of Jean’s cock and you love the look on his face when you lick a stripe up the underside of his dick. Jean has always been such a giver in the bedroom, but he never says no when you ask to worship his cock with your throat.

It took a long time to learn how to relax your throat enough to take his full length, and you still remember how proud he looked that day. Your mouth wrapped around the base of his cock, nose pressed into the ashy brown curls as you blinked back tears—he looked down at you with dark, flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes. His hand pressed against the back of your head to hold you down as you coughed around him—tightening your throat around his cock.

The memory has you breathing hard as your hand moves up and down along the shaft of the vibrator, aching for the warmth of Jean’s dick against your palm. You work quickly, desperate to be filled, and then turn it onto the lowest setting.

“Hey, wait a second,” Jean tuts, and you click it back off. “I didn’t say you could turn it on, yet.”

“Ok,” you shudder, lowering the toy between your thighs. You rest the cool silicone against your skin, moving the head of the toy around the lips of your cunt.

“Tell me how you feel,” he says, his voice dropping to a raspy whisper. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

“I need it,” you insist. Your fingers wrap tightly around the base of the toy as you move to press it against your entrance, whimpering in desire before pulling back again, and moving it up to swirl against your clit. “I feel so empty, Jean.”

“Yeah, baby, I know,” he groans. You hear him spitting loudly before returning his hand to his cock, each movement louder—wetter. “Now, put it inside.”

You hum in excitement before spreading your thighs open. You plant your feet on the mattress and sit up on your forearm while your free hand maneuvers the toy into place. Teasing yourself for a moment, you run the end of the toy between your folds before lining it up to your entrance. Even with the added lube, there’s some resistance when you try to push it in—gasping loudly from the feeling of it slipping inside of you.

“Work it in, baby,” he coos, jerking his cock loudly. “I know how tight that pussy is—take your time.”

You try to respond but you’re only able to whimper, tugging your lip between your teeth as you start to move the toy. You push it deeper and deeper with every pump—relishing in the stretch compared to your small fingers—until each movement has your fist bumping against your slick folds.

You whine, working the toy a little faster and—God— you’re so worked up right now, it’s loud. Tilting your head down to watch, you can already see the messy white ring coating the base of the toy. You pull it out to the tip, seeing it shiny and slick with your arousal, before pushing it back in with a loud, wet squelch.

“I can hear you,” he groans. “I can hear your pussy taking that cock—such a good girl for me, getting all stretched out.”

You can imagine his fist working along his length, pumping up and down on his cock in time with his ragged breaths. He’s probably twisting his wrist every time he gets to the head, smearing the spilled precum and spit around the sensitive tip of his cock before stroking back down to the base. The thought has you clenching down on the toy and you moan out from the feeling.

The toy is stiff and unforgiving, so when your pussy clamps around it, it almost hurts from how tightly you squeeze it. “Jean,” you gasp, needy. “Fuck, I want you so bad—I want your cock.”

He lets out a shuddered breath and you can hear him slowing the pace of his hand on his cock. “I know, I know,” he says, “but I’m not there right now, so why don’t you turn that toy on for me and let me talk you through it, ok?”

You hum in approval before shifting your grip on the toy and pressing the On button.

You jolt from the feeling of the vibration of the shaft inside you. It rumbles right against that sensitive bundle of nerves inside your cunt that has you squeezing down on the toy. “Shit,” you whimper, fucking yourself through the stimulation. You bump the end of the silicone cock into that spot with every pump of your arm, brushing the external arm of the toy against your clit each time.

“Feel good?” he coos and you moan in response. “Turn it up for me, I can’t hear.”

You press the button a second time, legs trembling as the intensity of the vibrations increases. You’re rocking your hips on the mattress in time with your arm, digging your heels into the bed as you fuck yourself against the toy and you feel the heat in your gut start to grow.

“That’s it,” he says. “That’s my girl—getting yourself all worked up for me—getting that pussy nice and wet for my cock.”

It’s hard to be quiet with the intensity of the vibrations. You’re whimpering and twitching and squelching around the toy as you chase your high. It feels good—so good—and for a moment, you forget you’re alone when you hear Jean’s husky voice through the speaker.

“That’s my good little slut, fucking yourself to the sound of my voice. Wishing that tiny, little toy was my big, fat cock—I know you need it, baby. Wanna get stretched out so bad, I can hear it in your voice.”

Each word comes out thick and coated in lust. You can feel sweat rolling down your back from how frantically your hips move against the toy as Jean’s voice burns straight down to your core. You try to push it deeper and deeper inside of you, desperate to mimic the length of Jean’s cock and how it always makes you feel like you’re about to burst—but the silicone toy is a poor imitation of the real thing.

“Can’t wait to fuck that pretty, little pussy when I get home—miss how tight she fucking squeezes me—how messy she gets,” he grunts. “Wanna fuck you stupid, baby—feel you cumming on my cock until the only word you know is my fucking name.”

“Jean—Jean!” you gasp, legs trembling. “Oh—fuck, Jean!”

“Yeah, just like that,” he groans. You hear the dull thud! of Jean’s head falling back against the wall and another long, ragged breath. “Sounds so fucking hot. All whiny and desperate… turn the Rabbit on for me, baby. Give that clit some attention.”

Your head is so hazy with arousal, that you can barely feel your hand as you fumble with the toy between your legs. When you press the button, you arch hard off the mattress with an unrestrained cry of pleasure. The external arm of the toy vibrates against your clit and inner labia in a way that has your knees falling shut—overwhelmed from the stimulation in and around your messy cunt.

“Shit, Jean!” you gasp and your hand falls from between your thighs as your back collapses into the mattress. With your thighs pressed together, you keep the toy held tight against your g-spot and your clit as your hands fist at the sheets. Your teeth are chattering from how close you are to unraveling completely—it’s so much, so much—but your hips won’t stop rocking to chase your high.

Jean moans loudly and you can hear the sound of his hand pumping along his cock so clearly, it’s like he’s in the room with you. “Yeah? Yeah?” he goads as you whimper and moan.

“Bet you’re squeezing it so fucking tight, huh? I can hear the fucking mess you’re making and you haven’t even cum yet,” he grunts. “Fuck, I wanna taste you, baby. Clean up the mess that pretty pussy is making while you fuck yourself—lick your clit while you’ve got a cock stuffed inside of you.”

His moans turn into breathless panting as his fist works along his cock. It almost sounds like he’s here, fucking you—his face buried in your neck as he grunts against your skin. Hips snapping into your thighs as he fills you again and again while you babble out his name like his good little slut.

“I’m so fucking horny for you,” he groans, each word coming out in a puff of air. “You’re driving me crazy—fuck—I need you so fucking bad.”

“Jean, I’m gonna cum—” you whimper. It’s barrelling toward you so quickly that your legs are shaking, your body tense and sweaty as the heat in your gut builds and builds into a tightness in your chest. Your pussy is squeezing so hard around the toy that it twitches between your thighs.

“Yeah? Give it to me, baby—come on,” he grunts. “Fuck yourself on my cock, I wanna feel you cum on me—need it so fucking bad, I can’t—”

The smell of Jean’s cologne on his shirt has your head swimming. You can practically feel the weight of his body against yours and the stretch of his cock inside your pussy as he fucks you. You can feel each hot, ragged breath as he breathes against your neck, lips ghosting across your skin as he plants his forearms into the mattress on either side of your head.

You can feel the rough brush of his stubble against your cheek when he moves his lips to your ears, “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so hard,” he groans, the heat of his breath fanning across your skin.

Your thighs ache from how tightly you squeeze around his hips, pulling him flush against your body as your muscles begin to tense. The rough push of his cock against your g-spot has you gasping out his name, clawing at his back and burying your face into his chest as you cum around his cock.

Your pussy pulses around his length when he pushes into you—as deep as he possibly can—you can feel the swell of his cock as he cums, spilling heat into your gut as he groans into your ear. Each spurt of cum is punctuated by a low grunt, breathing hard through his orgasm until he collapses against you with a heavy sigh.

The overstimulation of the vibrator inside of you jolts you quickly out of your fantasies, and you have to reach between your thighs to slip it out while you’re still trying to calm your body from shaking. You take big gulps of air as your heart pounds in your chest, you can feel wetness on your cheek and chin from watery eyes and your gasping, open mouth.

When the haze in your mind starts to clear up, you reach out to turn off your toy before chucking it on the bed somewhere beside you. You’ll have to remember to clean that in the morning—tonight, you’re too tired to move.

“You still there?” he asks, his voice weak and airy. He’s still breathing hard, too.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Your phone buzzes on your chest and you reach out to find a text message from Jean. Curious, you flick open your messages to see a photo that takes your breath away.

His cock is lying across his stomach, still thick and red from his arousal. Decorated across his abs are thick, white spurts of cum, pooling into the grooves of his stomach. His hand is still wrapped around his shaft and you can see the sheen of cum across his knuckles in the photo. He must’ve taken his pants off in a hurry—he’s only pushed them down to his mid-thigh. You can see how this hug around the thick muscles of his legs as his legs sprawl open on the bd.

“Holy shit, Jean,” you gasp, running your fingers gently across the screen, wishing you could be there to clean the mess off of him.

“See what you do to me?” he laughs.

You send him a few pictures in return, the first one being of your discarded purple vibrator. The shaft of the toy is slick and shiny with streaks of white from the thicker pools of your arousal. The second photo is one of your face.

You push Jean’s shirt up around your armpits to expose your breasts and then bite your lip for the camera. You can still see the post-orgasm haze in your eyes and the drool on your chin. You know when Jean’s received the pictures because he groans over the phone.

“Fuck, baby,” he says with a ragged sigh. “Are you trying to get me hard again?”

You giggle, “Yeah, maybe.”

“I miss you so much.”

You frown. Rolling over to your side, you curl up in the blankets with the phone resting on the pillow beside your face. Jean always gets soft after sex—always wants to hold you and kiss you and remind you how much he loves you—not being able to see you right now must be killing him.

“I miss you too, Jean,” you say with a sigh. “Just one more week before you come home, right?”

“Yeah… yeah.” You can hear how dejected he is from the tone of his voice. He shuffles around on the other end of the phone, probably getting up to clean himself off, but each movement sounds heavy and laboured. “I don’t know if I wanna do this job anymore. I hate being away from you like this. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day today, I just wanted to see you and hold you and… fuck, I just want to be with my girl again.”

“I know, baby.” You lay your hand across the bed—where Jean would be lying if he were here with you—and sigh at the emptiness. “Maybe next time I can go with you.”

“Yeah? You’d want that?” he asks, and you can tell he’s trying to keep his voice level, but there’s a jolt of excitement in his tone now.

“Sure, why not?” you say, smiling. “I could take some time off work and we could go check out the city together.”

“But you’d just be sitting around at the hotel while I was out.”

“I don’t mind,” you say. “But if I got bored, I could just go out for a walk or something. Do some shopping, maybe.”

You can hear Jean smiling when he speaks next. “I’d really like it if you came with me next time. As long as you don’t mind! I just—”

“I don’t mind, Jean,” you say, this time more sternly.

“Ok, yeah. Cool. That’s awesome,” he says, chattering with excitement. “Maybe I can introduce you to the team at this office, they’re all really cool, too. We could go out for lunch or even drinks together or something. There’s this one guy here, Connie, and he’s a fucking hoot—you’re gonna love him!”

You smile as Jean rattles off about the people he’s met and the things he’s done while he’s been away—things that he’s so excited to share with you, too. But it’s getting late and after your orgasm, you can feel the weight of sleep pulling your eyes closed. Despite your best efforts to stay awake, you find yourself yawning during Jean’s story.

“Oh, shit. It’s late, huh?” he says. “I’ll let you get to bed. We can talk again tomorrow.”

You don’t have it in you to protest, even though you’re happy to fall asleep to the sound of Jean’s voice. “Ok, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Jean. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he smiles. 

Fighting against your sleepiness, you manage to call out to him before he hangs up. “Hey wait, Jean?”

“Yeah, I’m still here.”

“Can we do that again sometime?”

He laughs. “The phone sex?”

“Yeah. I liked it.”

“Sure, we can do whatever you want.”

You smile, reaching out for your phone to bring it closer to your face. Your voice turns heavy with sleep, breathy as you try to stay awake just long enough to say goodbye. “And next time, can we do it over FaceTime?”

Jean sucks in a sharp breath. “Yeah, we can definitely do that.”

#jean kirstein x reader #aot x reader #jean kirstein smut #aot smut #jean smut #jean x reader #fem!reader #snk smut #jean kirstein x you #jean kirstein x y/n #jean x y/n #jean x you #aot x y/n #aot x you #snk x you #snk x reader #snk x y/n #tiff.fic #jean #aot #jean.os

[lexamiele]

A Little Secret

Rightmost image from Elizabeth on Pinterest here, other two are mine

Part 2 of I Think It's Time to Switch Roles - Tom Riddle x Reader

Requested by: @lackingstateofmind @annaisanarchyofficial @justarandomcanadiantransdude

Word count: approx. 8.5k

Summary: You're done with Mattheo's reckless behavior. So is his brother, Tom. Where will your newfound connection take you?

Warnings/be aware: Tom Riddle III/Tom and Mattheo are the sons of Voldemort, ooc!Tom Riddle, mentions of cheating (not Tom), implied that the reader is a Hufflepuff, one major (1 week) time skip, use of Y/N, playboy!Mattheo, it's long

A/N: Part 2 of I Think It’s Time to Switch Roles is finally finished! Thank you all for being patient while I rewrote this like five times and also took finals. If you haven’t read I Think It’s Time to Switch roles, I would recommend reading that first here. For all of my Mattheo lovers I promise I will write something that's nicer to bby Matty soon, in the meantime I hope you enjoy!

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            “I think I like your brother better.”

            You were trying to wind up Mattheo and it worked, his eyes flashing in anger as he looked at you in disbelief.

            “So that’s what this is about?” he demanded. “You’re just looking for a reason to go running off with – “

            “No, Mattheo,” you groaned, rolling your eyes as you tried to prevent the confrontation from devolving into him whining over your and Tom’s plan. “I’m looking for someone who’s mature and reliable and honest, and you just are not those things!” A month’s worth of frustration that had gone unreleased spilled out of you. “You did a great job of keeping me holding on for a while, but it’s over. I don’t believe you anymore.” He scoffed.

            “Fine,” he spat. “Go mess around with whoever you want, see if I care.” Your mouth dropped open at his utter lack of self-awareness as he turned on his heel and stepped away.

            “How in Salazar’s name is this about me?” you shouted at his retreating back, throwing your hands up in anger. “You’re the one who couldn’t keep your hands off someone else!” He ignored you, striding away with Blaise and Theo as you simmered with rage.

            “He will come around eventually.”

            You turned in the direction that the deep voice had just emanated from and saw Tom watching you, an even expression on his face. You knew there was no way he could’ve heard what you’d said to egg on Mattheo – it had been too quiet – but your stomach still dropped slightly at the reminder of his presence.

            “I don’t really care if he comes around or not,” you admitted, your voice catching in your throat slightly. You weren’t going to waste your time trying to change someone who refused to do so of his own accord. “I still care about him, but I don’t trust him anymore. And without that, there’s no point.” You let out a heavy breath. “Thanks for trying. I’ll see you around, yeah?” He didn’t react, leaving you to turn around and walk away.

            “Y/N?”

            You spun back around at the sound of his voice behind you. “Yes?”

            “You are much more than he deserves.” His eyes were narrowed, and if you didn’t know better you would’ve thought that he looked slightly sad. You blinked in surprise.

            “I…thank you.” He nodded once in response, watching as you walked away. You didn’t know what to make of it.

            You spent the next week drowning out the noise in your head with schoolwork, remaining resolutely holed up in your common room as you worked to avoid running into Tom, Mattheo, Lisa, or anyone else who might be out and about in the castle. The strategy proved oddly effective, and you had several remarkably productive workdays, finishing all of your assignments for the next several weeks. Once you ran out of essays to write, you moved to studying for NEWTs. You were in the process of marching through your Defense textbook and creating review notes when your studying was interrupted.

            “Earth to Y/N!” Something cushy and dense smacked you in the back of the head, causing you to make an errant marking on the parchment in front of you with your quill. You frowned and turned around, seeing that the object that had hit you was a throw pillow and the launcher of said pillow was your best friend, Hannah Abbot. Pressing your lips together, you tried to avoid snapping.

            “What, Han?” you sighed. “I’m a little busy.” She raised her eyebrows.

            “You’ve been busy for every moment of the past week,” she responded. “How many essays can you possibly have left to write?” You glanced at the floor.

            “None,” you admitted reluctantly. “I’ve been studying for NEWTs.”

            “Right.” She stood up and strode towards you, flipping the textbook in front of you shut and yanking the quill out of your hand.

            “Hey!”

            “You’re coming with me,” she declared, grabbing your wrist and pulling you in the direction of the staircases that led to the dormitories.

            “But I was working!”

            “Please, you were avoiding.” She shot you a skeptical glance as she walked. “You have to talk about Mattheo sometime, Y/N! It’s been a week and you haven’t even mentioned him.”

            “I will!” you protested. “Once I finish studying for NEWTs.” Hannah laughed incredulously.

            “Okay, so once you finish the Sisyphean task that we’re supposed to complete over the next two years, then you’ll talk about it?” You grimaced. “I’m your best friend!” she continued, pausing in front of you and looking you in the eye. “Please talk to me?”

            You sighed, feeling slightly guilty for isolating yourself so much during the past week. “You’re right,” you admitted. “I’ve just felt so…not myself over the past few days. Doing schoolwork is the only thing that makes me feel normal.” Hannah shook her head.

            “You’re going through a breakup, Y/N,” she replied, opening the doors of your dormitory. “And don’t give me that ‘we were never officially dating’ nonsense, he was important to you. It’s not going to feel normal. You have to work through all of those feelings to move on.” You stepped forward and plopped down on your bed. She joined you, kicking off her shoes swiftly and sitting cross-legged with her back against the footboard.

            “I know, there’s just a lot going on,” you explained, closing your bedcurtains and casting a quick Silencing Charm around the bed so that no one else could listen in. Her eyes widened.

            “Well there must be, if the Silencing Charm is coming out,” she remarked with surprise. “What’s up?”

            You told her about the events of the previous weekend – how you’d run into Tom in the library, your plan to teach Mattheo a lesson, and how he’d apologized to you but turned back into his old self the moment you’d questioned his willingness to change.

            “It’s over for good,” you said to Hannah. “I thought that maybe if the plan worked and he apologized, I would take him back. But there was just…something about the things he was saying, I didn’t believe him.”

            “And it seems like you were right,” she affirmed. “I mean if he switched from begging for your forgiveness to insulting you that quickly…” You nodded, feeling yourself tearing up at the memory.

            “It seemed so unlike him,” you said sadly as Hannah wrapped a comforting arm around you. “But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was exactly like him. He was so sweet to me when things were good, when I was new and shiny and interesting, but the moment that someone he liked better came along – poof. I didn’t matter anymore.”

            “Ugh, he’s such a loser,” she said sourly. Out of all your friends, she’d been the most skeptical of Mattheo’s initial advances. “You’re an amazing partner, Y/N. The way he acts says everything about his worth, not about yours.”

            “I know,” you agreed hesitantly. “I should’ve never gone out with him in the first place. He wasn’t even close to what I was looking for. He was just new, and exciting, and…I don’t know.”

            “People make mistakes,” she stated gently, rubbing your back with her palm. “He was a smooth talker and a nice guy in his better moments, I can understand what you saw in him. But you deserve to set higher standards for yourself! When you get back out there, whenever that is, you’re going to stick to your guns and find someone who’s everything that you want.” You pressed your lips together, hesitating for a moment.

            “I think I might have?” Your voice squeaked slightly and your best friend’s eyes widened with excitement.

            “Really?” she exclaimed, scooting forward on the bed. “Who?” You sighed.

            “Okay, it’s so bad,” you prefaced, leaning your head back.

            “No, sweetie, I thought we were done with the bad boys!”

            “It’s not that,” you clarified, covering your face with your hands for a moment. “It’s just…I don’t know, I’d never actually go for it. It was just sort of a whim that I got.”

            “Okay,” Hannah responded, looking intrigued.

            “It’s just that, well, when Tom and I ran into each other and came up with this whole plan…we ended up spending a lot of time together, and at some point I sort of realized that, well, he’s got everything I’m looking for.” You winced slightly as her mouth fell open.

            “No way,” she remarked, laughing eagerly. “Mattheo’s brother?”

            “Am I a horrible person?” Hannah shot you a skeptical look.

            “No, no,” she dismissed. “Under other circumstances…maybe it wouldn’t be a great look. But he cheated! You owe him nothing.”

            “Are you sure?” She laughed.

            “Yes, I’m sure! Honestly, I think everyone who’s ever been played by Mattheo Riddle would respect you more for it.” She paused for a moment, grinning. “What’s Tom like, by the way? He seems so scary.” You thought for a moment.

            “I was always a little intimidated by him,” you agreed. “He was always pretty stoic and difficult to read when Mattheo and I were together, but once we found some common ground, it was like – I don’t know. We just clicked so well, in a weird way. He’s so clever and mature…and responsible! He has his life so together! I think he has a planner and everything. And he’s such a gentleman, he was so respectful the whole time. Not to mention he’s gorgeous.” Hannah grinned.

            “You’re not wrong there,” she said. “I reckon he’d pull more than any of those other Slytherins if he’d just stop walking around looking like he’s about to Avada someone constantly.” You giggled.

            “I just have no idea how he feels about me,” you sighed. “Whatever. I probably just need to take a break from boys anyway.”

            “Don’t we all,” Hannah joked. “By the way, Gryffindor plays Ravenclaw in Quidditch tomorrow. Want to come with me?” She watched you hopefully.

            “Hannah Abbot,” you gasped playfully, your mouth gaping in teasing surprise. “Are you asking me to rejoin society with you?” She burst into laughter. “I would be honored.”

            The Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game was spectacularly exciting, with Ron Weasley making a remarkable thirty-six saves as Keeper and Cho Chang just barely beating out Harry Potter in a race to the Snitch to prevent a runaway Gryffindor victory.

            “Now if Hufflepuff beats Gryffindor next week, we’ll be in first place in the standings for the Quidditch Cup!” Hannah exclaimed to you eagerly as the two of you walked back to the castle. “We’ll be in great position for the House Cup as well, we’ve been earning loads of House Points lately. Slytherin was just ahead of us, and they lost a ton of points last week.”

            “Oh yeah, wasn’t that a party that got busted or something?” you asked, vaguely remembering overhearing a conversation about the incident during Herbology several days previously.

            “The fifth-year boys got caught with a stash of Firewhiskey that would be better suited to the Three Broomsticks than a Hogwarts dormitory,” Hannah clarified with a laugh.

            “I’m surprised it wasn’t the sixth years,” you remarked, shaking your head. “I’ve seen Zabini’s stash, that guy could open up his own pub and have stock to spare.”

            “Oh, Zabini,” she sighed, shaking her head and giggling slightly in spite of herself. “The last time I went to a Slytherin party, he was so drunk he called me ‘Susan’ the entire night and then spilled wine down the front of my dress.”

            “He’s lucky you’re so good at Cleaning Charms.”

            “He’s lucky I’m not better at the Bat-Bogey Hex,” she retorted playfully. You fell into a comfortable silence as you entered the castle, winding through the entrance hall, up the stairs, and past the library. “Shoot.” She frowned as she looked at the library doors. “I need to go find a book to finish that essay for McGonagall, I completely forgot to do that yesterday.”

            “Oh, did you want to go now?” You paused in your tracks. “I can come with you.” Hannah shook her head.

            “It’s from the Restricted Section, I haven’t got the permission note with me,” she explained, running a hand through her hair. “Ugh, I’m going to have to go get it from the common room and come all the way back. I’ve got so much work left to do on that essay, I’m going to be up all night.”

            “Isn’t that the one that’s due tomorrow?” She nodded despairingly. You felt a sudden surge of relief that you’d finished your assignments so early. “What’re you writing it about? I finished mine on Tuesday and I didn’t need to get anything from the Restricted Section.”

            “I chose the unregistered animagi and illegal animal transformations prompt, I definitely need to go to the Restricted Section,” she sighed, her forehead crinkling with stress. “And it’s going to take forever to find too, the Transfiguration shelves are terribly organized…I don’t know if I’ll be able to finish it. I can’t believe I put it off for this long.”

            “Hey, it’s okay,” you interjected, placing a gentle hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “Are there parts of the essay you can do without that book?” She nodded. “Okay, perfect. I’ve already finished that essay, I’ll go find the book for you and then help you with yours.”

   ��        “Really? Oh, you’re the best,” she remarked, beaming.

            “It’s nothing,” you dismissed with a grin. “We’re gonna get this done, okay?”

            “Okay,” she declared. “Right, we’ve got this.”

            Hannah revised her essay outline while the two of you ate dinner in the Great Hall. You were enjoying the food and the company until shrill giggles reached your ears from across the room. Glancing toward the source of the noise, you saw that it was none other than Lisa Turpin, fussing and laughing loudly as she sat on Mattheo’s lap. His hands were all over her, and before you could avert your eyes, they started snogging aggressively.

            “Oh, ew,” you groaned, your nose wrinkling in disgust as you looked back towards Hannah, who was across from you at the table.

            “What?” She glanced up at your objection. You nodded towards the Slytherin table and she turned around, her expression soon mirroring yours. “Nasty,” she remarked, shaking her head as she turned back to her parchment. “There are literally professors here! That’s disgusting. Acquire a sense of shame, please.”

            “It’s so good to not be with someone who has no concept of boundaries,” you declared, flipping your hair. To your surprise, you really meant it. You didn’t feel the expected twinge of sadness when you saw Mattheo and Lisa together – just secondhand embarrassment.

            “Cheers to that,” Hannah added, lifting her glass of pumpkin juice. You clinked yours against it, taking a sip of the sweet drink.

            After dinner, you headed back to the Hufflepuff common room with Hannah, where she passed the permission note to access the Restricted Section on to you.

            “No one should check too closely – Madame Pince is off duty after 8. But just in case,” she added, lifting her wand to the parchment and murmuring an incantation under her breath. When she handed it to you, you saw that it now said your name on it instead of hers. “Thank you so much, you’re the best.”

            “Of course! No worries at all,” you assured her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

            The library was quiet when you entered – most people must’ve gone back to their common rooms after dinner. Feeling slightly nervous even though you had a note, you walked through the stacks until you found the discreet Restricted Section. Carefully, you entered, the parchment from Hannah providing reassurance in your hand as you inspected the shelves. The only sound around you was the click of your shoes on the floor and an inexplicable hum emanating from one of the tomes sitting in the Defense Against the Dark Arts section. After a few moments of searching, you found the shelves containing the Transfiguration texts.

            “Animal transformations…animals, animals, animals,” you murmured to yourself, skimming the spines of each book on the shelves. You shifted from crouching to kneeling to standing on your tiptoes, searching the texts, but you couldn’t seem to spot the book listed on the note. Grimacing, you wondered if this was going to be more difficult than you’d imagined.

            Your resolve still strong, you crossed the aisle and began inspecting another set of shelves full of Transfiguration texts. Though you found scrolls, aging encyclopedias, instructions for transforming human skulls into all sorts of objects, and one collection of volumes that were suspiciously cold to the touch and looked as though their bindings were on the verge of crumbling, you couldn’t seem to locate to book in question. In the silence, you began to lose track of yourself as you explored.

            “Sneaking about, are we?”

            Nearly jumping out of your skin as a deep voice broke your focus, you whipped around to see none other than Tom Riddle standing behind you.

            “Merlin!” you exclaimed, breathing hard as you put a hand to your heart. “You scared me.” He stepped forward, and a tingle ran down your spine at his close proximity.

            “What are you looking for?” he asked in a low voice. Your mind went blank as you found yourself captive in his intense stare, and you scrambled for a few seconds until you recalled the note in your hand.

            “Um, this,” you finally replied, swallowing thickly as you handed him the parchment. His eyes scanned the writing for a bit before he placed the note back in your hand. He turned around, striding towards the end of the bookcase you’d been exploring. With ease, he withdrew a text from the shelf and placed it in your hands. Your breath caught in your throat as your fingers came to rest on top of his, and you felt your spine press against the shelves behind you as you stepped back.

            “Spiritae Bestiae, that’s a fascinating text.” He met your gaze with interest. “Of course, I’m sure Madame Pince would prefer if Abbot retrieved her own selections from the Restricted Section.” You felt your cheeks flush as you wondered how on Earth he’d known.

            “She’s worried about getting the essay done by the due date, I offered to get the book for her to save her some time,” you explained softly. His eyes softened almost imperceptibly, the harsh expression on his face fading into something more neutral.

            “I suppose this can be our little secret,” he replied, releasing his hold on the volume. For a moment, he stood before you, stealing the breath from your lungs with his emerald gaze as he watched you. Then, slowly, he stepped away and you came to your senses, moving back into the aisle as he pulled a book that had been on the shelf behind him away from its place.

            “What’s that for?” You were scarcely able to hear your voice over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

            “Nosy, nosy,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth tilting up into a little smirk. Your face grew warm again. “Professor Slughorn asked me to obtain it. I’ll be providing him with some after-hours assistance brewing potions next week.” He began to thumb through the pages and you stepped forward, standing on your toes to look over his shoulder. The pictures that adorned some of the pages looked rather gruesome, with one unfortunately afflicted individual grasping at his back while a pair of bat wings burst forth from his shoulder blades, and another grimacing as a tongue like a snake’s emerged from his mouth.

            “Yikes,” you remarked to yourself. Tom glanced over his shoulder, suddenly made aware of your presence, and decisively pushed you a few steps back with his forearm.

            “That’s not for your eyes, darling,” he stated, closing the book harshly and causing it to emit a small puff of dust.

            “I’m not a child, Tom.” You crossed your arms playfully, his serious gaze clashing with your grin.

            “This author has a deep fascination with magic of the most twisted nature,” he said, frowning. “You’re too sweet to be worrying yourself with such things.”

            Your heart fluttered at his words, but you couldn’t help indulging your twinge of curiosity. “What does Professor Slughorn want with it then?” Tom began to walk toward the exit of the Restricted Section and you fell into step next to him.

            “Unfortunately, the author of this book, for all of his morbid fascinations, was also a gifted Potions master,” he explained. “One of his great inventions was a powerful potion for dreamless sleep, the original recipe for which resides here.” He held up the dusty text in his hand. “It’s been revised endless times by other scholars hoping to improve it, but Professor Slughorn suspects that the original formula is actually superior. He hopes to test that theory.”

            “That’s…really groundbreaking work,” you remarked, raising your eyebrows. “Healers use dreamless sleep potions all the time. If you rediscovered a formula that was more effective than the existing ones, that would be incredible.” You’d always known that Tom was the most promising student in his year, but this was on a different level entirely.

            “We hope so.” There was a moment of silence as the two of you left the Restricted Section and began to walk through the standard library stacks. “Are you…alright?”

            The words sounded foreign in his mouth, and you nearly asked what on Earth he was talking about until you remembered how distressed you’d been about Mattheo the last time the two of you had talked. Oddly, it felt like a lifetime ago.

            “Oh, I’m okay,” you replied quickly. “Honestly, it doesn’t even really bother me anymore. Seeing him sucking face with Turpin in the middle of the Great Hall made me lose any respect I had left for him.”

            “Indeed.” You glanced over at him and saw his eyes flicker slightly. In a second it was gone, and he scoffed. “They were getting far too intimate in the Slytherin common room when I left. Between ordering them to get off each other every five minutes and listening to Malfoy’s constant yammering, it’s been impossible to concentrate lately.” The two of you came to a long table sitting amongst the bookshelves and he placed the book in his hand down, then set his school bag next to it. He removed a number of other books from it, including an old Ancient Runes dictionary and the narrow black one that you recognized as his notebook, along with a quill and ink pot. Hesitantly, you sat down next to him. You supposed that spending five more minutes with Tom wouldn’t delay your delivery of Hannah’s book too significantly.

            “Is that why you came to the library?”

            “Yes.” You opened the book you’d just obtained, your eyes skimming the pages as he wrote hastily on the parchment in front of him. His handwriting was sharp and neat, the letters tightly clustered together. As he wrote, the silver rings on his fingers flashed in the dim light. “NEWTs aren’t far away, I need some quiet.”

            “Well, I suppose I ought to stop distracting you then.” You laughed, feeling slightly awkward.

            “That isn’t what I meant.” His statement was abrupt and you blinked in surprise.

            “Then…I’ll stay.”

            “Please.”

            You found a strange peace sitting there next to him, reading the book in your arms as he took notes. Acutely aware of his close proximity, your mind wandered from the words before you.

            “Have you ever considered becoming an Animagus?” you asked suddenly. If there was any Hogwarts student with the talent to do so, it was him. He raised his eyebrows, not looking up from his notes.

            “I have other things to worry about at the present moment, unfortunately.” He let out a heavy breath.

            “Like your experiments with Slughorn?”

            “Yes, and Head Boy matters,” he said, finally looking up. “And finding suitable employment as graduation approaches, and other things. But I am certain it would be a worthy goal in the future.”

            “What form do you think you would take?” Your eyes sparkled with intrigue.

            “I – “

            “Tom!”

You both started and whipped your heads around at the sudden noise, looking for the source. It appeared to be a girl who was rapidly approaching, ignoring the stares she was receiving for making such a loud noise in the library. As she drew closer, you recognized her as a fifth-year and a Prefect. The girl’s face was glistening with sweat and more of her hair seemed to be escaping from her ponytail than actually captured in it.

            “What is it, Nancy?” Tom asked curtly.

            “There’s a rogue Fanged Frisbee hurtling around the Owlery,” she wailed. “No one can seem to capture it, it’s already bitten a few people, the owls are losing their minds –”

            “Oh, for Salazar’s sake,” he snapped to himself as he stood, quickly tossing his books, quill, and inkwell back into his bag. “Please tell them I’ll be right there.” The girl rushed off and Tom glanced back at you. He watched you with an indiscernible expression as you gave him a soft smile. For a second, he paused as though contemplating something, then he gave you a polite nod and turned his back to you, following the Prefect with quick, authoritative steps. After he left, you turned back to the table to grab Hannah’s book and leave yourself. As you did so, your eyes caught sight of the little black book that Tom always kept with him.

            “Shoot,” you sighed, realizing that he must have left it behind in his haste to sort out the Owlery situation. “Tom?” you called, hurrying towards the front of the library, but he was long gone. Shrugging your shoulders, you set the book on top of your own and scooped them both up in your arms, resolving to return his later.

            With your help, Hannah did manage to finish her essay by the next morning, though neither of you got very much sleep as a result. The next morning, the two of you made the exhausted trek to the Great Hall for breakfast, yawning copiously all the while.

            “Ugh, what I wouldn’t do for a double dose of Pepperup Potion right now,” Hannah complained, holding her head in one hand and a glass of pumpkin juice in the other. She looked as though she were about to fall into her plate of eggs and toast.

            “Uh, Han?” You glanced up to see Ernie MacMillan glancing over at the two of you hesitantly from the other side of the table.

            “What, Ernie?” she snapped in a tone that could curdle milk.

            “That’s my pumpkin juice,” he squeaked, wincing as he nodded at the glass she was holding.

            “Oh, Helga’s – sorry,” she groaned squinting at the glass in her hand and then sliding it back over to the other side of the table.

            “Did I miss a party or something last night?” Ernie asked. “Are you hung over?” You shook your head.

            “I was working on McGonagall’s essay,” Hannah explained.

            “I helped,” you chimed in.

            “You’ve got to stop putting things off until the last minute.” Hannah rolled her eyes. As your friends began to bicker, their voices faded from your attention as you glanced around the Great Hall. You saw several fellow sixth-years frantically trying to finish up their Transfiguration essays as others chatted eagerly around them. For a moment, your eyes paused on Tom, who was sitting at the end of the Slytherin table, reading as usual. On closer inspection, you saw that he was paging through the book he’d gotten from the Restricted Section the previous night. You smiled to yourself, remembering the sound of his voice and the feeling of his touch as he’d handed your elusive book to you.

            “Uh, Y/N? Earth to Y/N.” Hannah’s voice suddenly cut through your thoughts and you snapped back to reality as you quickly turned towards her. She was watching you with an expression of concern. “Heads up,” she added, pointing behind you. You spun around, confused. As you took in the situation, your heart dropped. Mattheo Riddle was approaching the Hufflepuff table, his eyes dead set on you.

            “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” You dared to hope for a second that you were mistaken and he was actually headed towards the Gryffindor table behind you, but sure enough, he was soon standing before you, that annoying little smirk that he usually wore on his face.

            “Get out of here, Riddle,” Ernie snarled. You had to hand it to him, he made a great effort to intimidate the Slytherin who was easily half again his size. Unfortunately, Mattheo just chuckled, raising an incredulous eyebrow in the other boy’s direction.

            “Good to see you too, MacMillan,” he drawled before turning his attention back to you. “Alright, Y/N?”

            “Perfectly fine, Riddle,” you said curtly. “Good of you to stop by.” You turned back to your food, hoping that he would take the hint to leave, but he seemed to deliberately ignore it.

            “Can’t we talk?”

            Your face contorted in bewilderment as you turned back towards him. “No?”

            “Look, baby.” Your eyes widened, shocked to hear the nickname that he’d called you when the two of you had been seeing each other. “We had a fight, we both said things we regret, it happens. But…I miss talking to you, alright?” Your brows furrowed in shock and anger, and you stood almost involuntarily.

“We didn’t have a fight,” you snapped. You crossed your arms in front of you. “You decided that you were seeing someone else. Why don’t you go bother her instead?” He tensed.

“Baby, she can’t compare to you.” His voice was oddly gentle, and it made you want to recoil. “I made an impulsive decision, but you’re the best I’ve ever had.”

You blinked in disbelief. This had to be some sort of sick joke, right? There was no way Mattheo was actually this stupid, arrogant, oblivious…

“Are you daft?” The words escaped your mouth before you could stop them, and you stared at him with wide eyes. “Genuinely, what is it like inside your head? You were snogging Turpin in the middle of the Great Hall yesterday.”

“I was trying to block out the pain of losing you!”

“Which was, for the record, entirely self-inflicted.”

“Please.” His eyes were wide, and it alarmed you how good he was at imitating sincerity. “If you want me to beg, I’ll beg. Please give me another chance.”

“You are with someone else.”

“Turpin knows it’s over,” he replied hastily. “I called it off last night.”

As his words sank in, you recalled what Tom had told you the previous night – they were getting far too intimate in the Slytherin common room when I left. Your blood boiled.

“You’re lying, Mattheo,” you snapped, your voice shaking in anger. “You’re lying to me! Again! I know exactly what you and Turpin were doing last night, and it wasn’t breaking up.” His eyes widened.

“Who – How…”

“Your brother,” you finished, crossing your arms as you smirked at him. “Who is sick and tired of hearing your PDA in the Slytherin common room while he’s trying to study, by the way.” Mattheo’s eyes darkened, glaring into yours.

“Why were you talking to – “

“Oh, get a grip.” Your lip curled in distaste. “Go pick someone else to bother, Riddle. I’m not in the mood.” He looked for a moment like he might say something, but then turned around and strode away. You sat back down at the table as Ernie and Hannah stared at you, eyes wide.

            “Nice work,” Ernie finally said, blinking in surprise.

            “Thank you!” you replied with a little shrug. “I thought so.”

            You finished your food quickly, eager to get to History of Magic so that you could think about anything except how annoyed you were at Mattheo. Finally, you, Hannah, and Ernie were able to pack your things and leave the Great Hall. You were nagged by the slight feeling that you were forgetting something, but you were anxious enough to leave that you pushed it out of your mind.

            “That was bizarre,” Hannah remarked, shaking her head as the three of you walked down the corridor. “I mean, if I was daft enough to lose you I’d beg for you to take me back too, but while he’s still snogging someone else? What exactly did he think was going to happen?”

            “I’ve no idea,” you replied with a shrug. “I can’t believe I had to hear that with my own two ears. I’m half inclined to tell Turpin about the whole thing.”

            “I feel like she ought to know,” Hannah agreed. “I’ll talk to her after Muggle Studies.”

            As you walked, you stuck a hand in your bag to make sure you had all of your textbooks for the day. History of Magic, Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures… suddenly, your fingers touched an unfamiliar spine. Glancing down, you remembered the small black notebook that was tucked in between your supplies. “Shoot, I knew there was something I was forgetting.” You turned to Hannah, pulling the book out of your bag. “I forgot to give Tom back his planner, or whatever this thing is.”

            “How’d you end up with Tom Riddle’s notebook?” Ernie asked, frowning. “He’s always writing in that thing when he leads Prefect meetings, I didn’t think he’d let it out of his sight.”

            “I dunno, we ran into each other in the library. He left it on the table when he had to run off and deal with some Fanged Frisbee situation.”

            “I heard about that!” he exclaimed. “I was out on patrols on the other side of the castle, but Goldstein was there, and he said it was madness until Riddle showed up. Apparently he got rid of the thing in under two minutes!”

            “Really?” You raised your eyebrows. “That’s impressive.” Hannah shot you a knowing look and you felt your cheeks turn pink.

            “What a pair of brothers, huh?” Ernie chuckled to himself. “They’ve both got to have some sort of complex.”

            You laughed. “Mattheo, I’ll agree with. Tom’s not so bad.”

            “Did you see him during breakfast?”  You shook your head and Ernie shuddered. “Dunno how you didn’t notice, he kept looking over at our table. He looked like he was ready to kill.”

            Tom wasn’t at lunch or dinner. Ernie informed you that he’d seen him in the hall having some hushed conversation with Slughorn, and you wondered if their experiment had panned out. By evening, though, you were getting anxious to return the thing – you figured that if he kept it with him everywhere he went, he probably needed it. And as much as you were embarrassed to admit it to yourself, you liked the idea of having a reason to go see him. So as night fell, you ventured through the corridors and to the Slytherin common room, hoping that no one had changed the password since Mattheo had given it to you when the two of you were together.

            “Vici,” you declared when you reached the hidden entrance, and to your relief, the door opened. Stepping through the wall, you glanced around the large, dimly-lit room, feeling quite out of your element indeed. The eerie green light of the Black Lake shone off the faces of those sitting in the common room, some of them turning around to glance at you in confusion as you strode past, your steps echoing off the stone floor. As you looked back at them, you felt suddenly self-conscious – you hadn’t stopped to think about just how strange it would seem for you to be here after your very public falling-out with one of the school’s most infamous Slytherins.

            Tom was nowhere to be seen, and neither, thankfully, was Mattheo. However, you did spot a few of the sixth-year Slytherins that they typically hung around sitting in the corner by a large statue – Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Theo Nott, and Enzo Berkshire. As they turned to look at you, part of you wanted to run and hide, but you steeled yourself with a deep breath. You’re just returning a lost object to a friend, it’s no big deal, you reminded yourself as you approached.

            “Um, hey guys,” you said, putting on what you hoped was a friendly smile. You directed your words mostly at Enzo – you’d always found him to be the least intimidating. “Does anyone know where Tom is? He left his little black notebook that he’s always carrying in the library last night and I know he must be anxious to get it back.” Pansy and Draco glanced at each other, her shooting him a look that you couldn’t decipher as Enzo grinned at you reassuringly.

            “Yeah, sure thing,” he replied lightly. “He’s probably up in his dormitory. Do you know where the Head’s dormitory is in here?” You shook your head.

            “Sorry.”

            “No worries, you’re going to want to go two flights of stairs up from the sixth-year boys’ dormitory and it’s right there. It’s the only room on the level, you can’t miss it.”

            “Amazing, thank you so much.” You waved politely at the group. “Good to see you all!” Enzo waved back, while the others acknowledged your departure with nods or less friendly stares. Letting out a breath of relief as you left, you strode toward the stairwell and climbed the numerous flights to the room that Enzo had informed you was Tom’s.

            The level felt eerily isolated. As far as you knew, the castle spontaneously created and eliminated Head student dormitories based on which houses the Head students were in each year, and the level you were on certainly had an odd air to it, as if it didn’t quite belong with the other dormitories. While the doors to the sixth year boys’ dormitories had been perpetually open and the room had usually been full of students coming in and out, chatting loudly, this floor came abruptly to a stop before a singular, closed door. You were initially unnerved by the silence, but as you drew closer, the sound of harsh voices reached your ears.

            You took pains to quiet your steps as you approached the door. Someone else was in Tom’s dormitory, and they weren’t having a friendly conversation. You wondered if the other person was Slughorn – had something gone bad during the experiment? But in the stillness, it became clear that the other party was much younger, the voice less weathered. It was one you knew well. The other person behind the door, you realized, was Mattheo.

            You raised your fist to knock, but a sudden shout halted you. “I won’t tolerate this anymore!” The voice was sharp and cutting: Tom’s. You paused, not wanting to eavesdrop, but reluctant to interrupt as well.

            “Tolerate what?” Mattheo demanded. His voice was slightly quieter, and it was more difficult to hear his words. “ – can’t let me have anything!”

            “You disgrace our family name!” Tom roared, so ferocious that it made you jump in your skin. “You know the circumstances by which we live, that we have to work twice as hard as anyone else to gain respect because of the destruction our parents wrought!” His voice grew lower. “…us to have good things…opportunities…squander it all…” You involuntarily stepped closer to the door, but he began shouting again. “I stuck my neck out for you once and I’m not going to do it again!”

            “I’m not asking you to do it again, you daft toerag!” Mattheo shot back. “—out of my business…Stop…deserving of everything!”

            “...a person, not a thing, Mattheo,” Tom snarled. Your eyes widened and you felt yourself jolt slightly in surprise. “—can’t…pick up and put down…wouldn’t keep fueling your lies.”

            “Oh, for Salazar’s sake, stop being so self-righteous!” A moment later, something smashed against the wall. “Guess what…chose me.” Your brows furrowed. Who were they talking about? The bits of conversation were so fragmented that it was difficult to tell.

            “…this morning.”

            “...would’ve done if you hadn’t gotten involved!”

            “By sharing that you still had your tongue in Turpin’s mouth last night?” Tom loudly demanded. “Are you so…anyone telling the truth makes you angry?” Your mind began churning as you connected the dots. Mattheo had asked you to get back together with him that morning…but you’d said no because Tom had told you that he and Lisa were still together. That was what they were arguing about.

            “I have every right to be angry!” Mattheo roared. You were barely standing close to the door, but his exclamations were plain to hear. “You don’t get to be some emotionless freak for seventeen years…decide that the one person that you want is someone who's mine!” Your breathing abruptly ceased as your heart pounded in your throat. You stared at the door in front of you in disbelief.

            “...was never yours” The fury in Tom’s voice sent chills down your spine as he taunted his brother. “…perfectly clear on that…suited you…”

            “You couldn’t have cared less what I did before!” Mattheo scoffed. “Now I have to listen to your harping every day…as if you care! …your reputation...just admit it!”

            “That has nothing to do with this!”

            “Right…don’t feel baser emotions.” Mattheo’s voice turned dark and faded into the distance.

            The muffled conversation continued for some time. Then, there was a moment of silence, and footsteps began approaching. You panicked, looking for a place to hide. To your relief, you saw a large bookcase in the corner perpendicular to the dormitory and ducked into the shadows next to it.

            “…end this way,” came Mattheo’s voice as the door opened.

            “Leave.”

            The threat in Tom’s voice was clear, and you shivered.

            “...mine first, you know,” Mattheo said darkly, a hint of arrogance sneaking through in his voice as he stepped through the doorway. You longed to step out from behind the bookcase and smack him. “That will never change.”

            “Leave!”

            From the shadows, you saw Mattheo storm out, his footsteps echoing noisily down the otherwise silent hall. You held your breath, but to your relief he didn’t seem to suspect any other presence in the corridor, and quickly disappeared down the stairwell. You closed your eyes and let out a heavy breath. In the darkness, you could feel the tremor of your hands.

            “Who’s out there?”

            You barely managed to stifle your gasp of surprise as your eyes flew open. Tom was glancing around the corridor, wand in hand as he looked out the open door of his dormitory. How could he possibly know for sure that someone else was present? You stayed hidden.

            “Who’s out there?”

            His body tensed, his grip on his wand tightening. Nervously, you bit your lip and emerged from the shadows before you could think better of it. You prayed that it wasn’t too obvious how long you’d been there.

            “Um, hi,” you squeaked, your voice cutting through the silence of the corridor.

            “Y/N?”

            “Yes, hi,” you repeated, your shaking hands struggling to pull the little black notebook from your bag. “Um, you left your planner in the library last night, and I figured you would want it, but I got a little…preoccupied…this morning, and then you weren’t around all day – Ernie told me that you were with Slughorn, by the way, congratulations, hope it went well – and I still knew the Slytherin password, so I came around, and, well, here.” You thrust the notebook out in front of you, clamping your mouth shut to stop yourself from rambling. “I figured you would want it.”

            “I haven’t got a – oh, that.” Understanding took shape on his face as he saw the notebook. His features smoothed as he took it from you, trapping you in his piercing gaze. He stepped away from you and you wondered if he was just going to slip back into his room, but he paused. “It seems you are very nosy, darling.” You felt your face heat up.

            “I didn’t look inside, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you assured him, your voice shaking slightly.

            “Eavesdropping is never a good way to stay out of trouble,” he countered, looking back at you and raising his eyebrows slightly. You froze as he opened his bedroom door.

            “Wait, Tom,” you called before you could stop yourself. He turned around you’re your nervousness seized you again, your stomach dropping. “I…” You took a deep breath, struggling for words. “You and Mattheo were arguing. Why?”

            “That’s none of your business,” he replied, his voice as cold as ever.

            “I know that it is.”

            He stared at you in silence, and you felt a bolt of anxiety run through you. Maybe you’d misheard him somehow or misinterpreted the conversation. You began to panic, but stilled as he stepped closer to you.

            “How much did you hear?” His tone was chilling.

            “Enough,” you declared defiantly. “Enough to know that you were arguing about…about what you told me last night. And about me.” He rolled his eyes.

            “This is ridiculous.” He stepped back. “I appreciate you returning my things, don’t bother me with this again.” As he turned to leave for the second time, you shook your head incredulously. How could this be over? All of your cards were out on the table already, you had nothing to lose.

            “That’s a shame,” you said, forcefully enough to freeze him in his tracks. “Because…I would choose you, you know.”

Again, he said nothing, and again you felt panic rising in your chest as he stood with his back to you, unmoving. Fine, then, you’d said your peace. Turning on your heel, you decided that the best thing to do was cut your losses and leave. But as you stepped away, you felt a strong grip on your wrist pulling you back. Your skin tingled as he drew you back to him.

            “Don’t play games with me, darling,” he murmured, a nearly imperceptible tremor in his own voice. “If all you want is to wind up my brother…”

            “I couldn’t care less about that,” you replied, your heart pounding in your chest with a force you hadn’t even known was possible as you took a step towards him. “I’m not here to get under Mattheo’s skin, Tom. I can’t stop thinking about you. I want you.”

            He held you in his gaze, the silence palpable. Then, suddenly, he was very close, and all you wanted was for him to be closer. He took your face in his hands and crashed his lips into yours.

            You froze for a moment, then came to your senses and started to kiss him back, grabbing the collar of his shirt in your hands as you felt his arms snake around your waist, giving you chills. The kiss was slow and deliberate, spine-tingling, unlike anything you’d ever experienced. When the two of you finally broke apart you could feel yourself shaking, your knees weak.

            “I’m sorry that I listened in.” Your voice faltered as you gazed up at him.

            “I’m not.”

A wave of heat appeared in his eyes and you took the initiative this time, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. It was euphoric. His touches were slow and deliberate, as though he knew just how to take you apart piece by piece and he had every intention of doing so. Something in your body had craved the feeling of his hands on your skin since the first time you’d experienced it in the corridors, and you were finally able to indulge your addiction.

As he backed you into the cold stone wall of the corridor, his lips moved to the skin on your collarbone and you bit your lip hard in an effort to stifle the gasp that threatened to escape, remembering somewhere in the back of your mind that someone might hear you from down the stairs. He seemed to notice your hesitation and picked you up suddenly, bringing you to the other side of the doorway so that the two of you stood in his dormitory. For good measure, as he set you down, he gestured to the door beside him and it slammed closed, the air heavy with magic. You raised your eyebrows, wondering if some of the professors would even be capable of such a wordless, wandless spell.

“You know you can just close those with your hands, right?” You couldn’t resist the urge to tease him, recalling that fateful day in the library when you’d snapped your quill in half. Your spine tingled with anticipation as he narrowed his eyes at you, smirking.

“Salazar, you do have a smart mouth on you.” He backed you up against the wall, his voice low and hungry. “Who knew an angel could have such an attitude?”

“Yeah?” you retorted, your eyes sparkling mischievously. “Shut me up, then.”

He captured your lips in another mind-blowing kiss and your mind went blank as you let his touch intoxicate you. It was right, it was perfect, it was everything you wanted. You felt like you’d finally found your way home after a long wander in the dark.

“With pleasure, my darling.”

As the sun rose in the sky the next morning, you glanced into the Great Hall through the entryway, eyeing the calm and sleepy students who ate their breakfast amidst quiet conversation. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, and the scene looked utterly serene. You glanced up at Tom, who was already watching you with the slightest hint of a smile on his face. His arm was wrapped around your waist protectively, assuring you of his presence beside you.

“Ready to go shake things up a bit?” you asked, giggling softly.

“Maybe it’ll give the children enough to chatter about that they don’t go releasing feral frisbees in the Owlery.”

“Unlikely.” You grinned up at him. “But it’s worth a shot.”

“Indeed.” He absentmindedly ran his fingers through the ends of your hair as you took a deep breath. “Are you certain that you’re ready?” You shrugged.

“Oh, I figure that we’ll scandalize the school for a few days, and then someone will score a really great goal in Quidditch or drink too much Firewhiskey at a party and everyone will have something else to talk about. I’m not worried.” Then your brow furrowed. “What about you and Mattheo? Are you two going to be okay?” Tom glanced at you calmly.

“Family troubles are inherent to carrying the surname Riddle.” His thumb stroked your hip softly. “It won’t be the end of us.”

You nodded, taking in the silence for one final moment.

“Alright. I’m ready.”

His arm rested on your hip, holding you close, as the two of you stepped into the Great Hall together.

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader insert #tom riddle #tom riddle fic #ooc tom riddle #slytherin boys #slytherin x reader #slytherin boys fic #slytherin #hogwarts #mattheo riddle #theo nott #lorenzo berkshire #blaise zabini #draco malfoy #pansy parkinson

[quibbs126]

And now I have made a part 3 of the human Cookies, this time featuring the Legendaries

You know I’m noticing that recently I’ve been drawing a lot more. I mean I’ve drawn 3 pieces in the last two days and I drew stuff last week. Seems my medication is at least helping something, even if it’s not me doing actual work to get my life together like my parents hoped. But hey, it personally makes me happy I’m drawing more, so it’s at least somewhat of a win

I think I was spurred on to do this one because I was playing around with the Mii maker on my 3DS, and I was making Cookies and started making the Legendaries

I will say, the Legendaries are probably some of the more difficult characters to translate into normal humans, since their designs are more fantastical. Almost all of their hair is made of something not normal, like fire, grass or water, so I have to try and make it at least semi-cohesive. It also means a lot of hair dye

I admit, while Wind Archer doesn’t look terrible, he does look very boring, like a generic guy. But frankly I just don’t see him using hair dye, or getting a lot of piercings. He doesn’t feel like someone who would to me, and so he looks boring

On the subject of designs I’m not satisfied with, I think Sugar Swan came out the worst. I just legit didn’t know what to do with her design. I’m a proponent of short haired Sugar Swan, so I gave her that, but I don’t think it turned out the best. I also wasn’t sure how to incorporate all the wings and swan thing on her head. I got that but it’s not that great

Originally in Sugar Swan’s spot was Millennial Tree, but he wasn’t turning out great so I tried doing Sugar Swan in his spot. Maybe that spot was just cursed or something

I think my personal favorite of the bunch is Sea Fairy, I think she turned out fun. Honestly I can see her going either way with the hair dye, so might as well just give her the blue. The buzz cut thing was actually something I got from another Sea Fairy design that I really like. I was debating between her having black or dirty blonde hair, but I eventually settled on the blonde

Moonlight and Stardust were pretty fun. With Stardust, I wasn’t sure whether I should have him dye his whole hair blue or have him bleach the front of his hair. I asked on Discord and they said the latter, so that’s what I did. But also note, I realized that if I were to try and give him bleached front and also potentially blue tips, he would have had Yugi Moto anime hair, but just flattened down instead of all spiky. Like I’ve seen people draw Yugi with hair similar to it

I wasn’t really feeling it after Sugar Swan’s failed design, but Fire Spirit got my mojo back, I think he turned out good. And with that I was able to make a Millennial Tree design I liked a lot more (while also looking at someone else’s interpretation of his design and deciding to use locs as well). Maybe not the best but not as bad as it was before

I kind of threw in Frost Queen because last spot and also she is an elemental Legendary. With her, instead of her hair being dyed, it’s supposed to be that her hair has actually turned white from either stress or age, with a tiny bit of her blonde still there at the ends. Don’t know why I picked blonde other than light color though

In my head while I was drawing, I was trying to come up with human things for them to do, but I really only got as far as the Dessert guys and the Wizard guys

Moonlight is the heiress of the “Wizard’s” estate, and she lives there and is the self proclaimed custodian. I’m not really sure what Blueberry Pie and Sugar Glass are doing there, but they’re probably also here. I also don’t know what the estate really is, I just have the idea that it’s a big place that the “Wizards” used as a research place, until they just stopped using it or disbanded or died or something. Stardust meanwhile is either Moonlight’s half brother she didn’t know about, or they’re full siblings who were orphaned and then separated at a young age via the foster care system. Stardust’s journey there would be him learning of his sister and her location and then I suppose hitchhiking his way there until he arrived

Meanwhile, Sugar Swan owns this wildlife preserve, which is the Dessert Paradise (probably goes by another name but I can see “Paradise” still being in the name), meanwhile the Dessert guardians, including Wind Archer, are the other caretakers that manage and guard the preserve. Are they also Sugar Swan’s kids? Maybe, I don’t know. Wind Archer probably is though, and maybe Millie’s his dad, I’m not sure

Frost Queen I think is just an accomplished doctor who lives in a more remote area and takes care of patients with a rare condition that she specializes in the treatment of (and also contracted herself when she was younger). She also just kind of dresses like that I guess

Genuinely I don’t know what Fire Spirit does, he might just be like, Pitaya’s adopted son or works under Pitaya, I don’t know. I can’t see him with much of a job

I imagine Sea Fairy has some sort of job (that she might neglect), but I have no clue what that job would be, since it presumably impacts both Black Pearl and Abyss Monarch in some big way, so like, running an aquarium might be too low stakes. Her crush on Moonlight might be something like she met this cute astronomer one time at some sort of astronomy conference or something, but she doesn’t know where she lives and so doesn’t know how to meet her again. Moonlight also thought she was cute, but again, doesn’t know where she lives

And yeah, I think that’s about it. I hope you enjoy these designs

#cookie run #legendary cookies #wind archer cookie #sea fairy cookie #moonlight cookie #stardust cookie #sugar swan cookie #fire spirit cookie #millennial tree cookie #frost queen cookie #human cookies #my art

[cherrysnax]

I’m in an extremely bad headspace rn but I want to be able to be positive for my friends and loved ones

#it’s been like two weeks and I think it’s time to admit that I’m not doing the best #but I’m never doing the best you know #but I wish it would be at a different time #it’s very inconvient for me to be drepesses rn #idk if I meant positive in my post btw I just mean #there. I’m not good with emotions but i want the ones I love to know I care #but it’s hard when I’m like. 6000 feet away from my feelings because I’m so depressed #I never wanna focus too much on hating myself that I forget to love the ones around me #but I do. often #the most that’s doable is not letting my depression actively hurt them #and even that #when I’m depressed I tend to get more in on myself #and I tend to be trapped in my own head. I find it hard to feel close to anyone #and when u have close friends or partners I feel like that can be a lil hurtful #unless I’m past rock bottom my love and affection n shit for my loved ones never fade even when I’m a lil loopy and detacthed #but #I worry one day I won’t come back from depresso land #what if I rlly do it one day #or what if in my own head I miss out on a loved ones cries for help #I try to be there but I’m not good at it #what if I fail again

[chuluoyi]

✎ wedding anniversary

- gojo satoru x reader

seven years of dating, two years of wedded bliss, and gojo is having his greatest existential crisis yet... all because this year, you apparently have forgotten the most important day of your lives

genre: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—heavy smut, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex, slight breeding kink, crack, drunk, lovesick and possessive gojo (nanami is so very done with him), also fluff !!

note: back to chu's thirsting hour :') based on a fellow gojo fucker's very helpful brainrot (chiyo if you see this, hii!😗) pls give it some love bc this has gone through not showing up in the tags 5x already *sobs*

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

To this day, it was still beyond Nanami why you, his very sensible former classmate, would have Gojo Satoru as your husband.

“She... doesn't—hic!—care about m-me... anymore!”

But well, to each their own.

“Gojo—”

“Today is our—hic!—anniversary!”

This is exhausting. It had been 30 minutes ever since the blindfolded shithead started rambling his sorrows. “She is probably just busy, you don't have to—”

“I r-really thought—hic!—she would at least n-not forget it l-like that!”

“Please, stop this nonse—”

Satoru snapped his head so swiftly that Nanami was startled, pointing out an accusatory finger at his face. “You stop!—you don't understand, Nanami!”

The said man flinched, taken aback, before feeling the surge of irritation coursing through his veins.

Sure, Nanami would gladly admit that he didn't understand. He neither had the time nor energy to. It was beyond him that he was even entertaining this blubbering idiot at this time of the day, in a bar no less. How did he get roped into this in the first place?

Actually, he had minus interest in your marital affairs, but Gojo was latching onto him all day, rambling about how excited he was for this day for weeks now, until you gave him a call, saying you would be home late and disregarded his very open anticipation. You broke his heart to pieces, apparently.

Amidst his heartbroken musings, Gojo followed him to his frequented bar, where he proceeded to down multiple glasses without any supervision.

“Am I really t-that lousy? Can’t be it… I’m s-strong, d-dashing… rich—”

Nanami released a guttural sigh, messaging his temples. How could this idiot have no shame while spouting all of this?

“Will s-she… divorce me next…?” he abruptly blurted, eyes widening as saucers and full of clarity all of a sudden. Satoru firmly tugged at his suit and forced him to face him. “Nanamin…! S-she won’t divorce me, r-right?!”

Oh, to hell with it. Nanami couldn’t take this anymore. He was done and he had no patience to tolerate it any longer.

He shrugged him off, and pulled out his phone to dial your number. “Hello? Please, come pick your husband. He’s a public nuisance!”

In fact, you didn’t forget your anniversary.

How could you? Satoru made it his point to drop hints about it almost every day, and you actually struggled to be indifferent about it because you also had things planned out.

A present—already taken care of thanks to your mail order of Rolex’s newest collection watch, and a treat—a two-tier mochi cake he had been staring at with literal stars in his eyes on your last date.

Which has become the problem. The bakery had mishandled your delivery and you had to wait for them to remake it. It was 8pm already and you couldn't help but worry. Satoru must be feeling utterly despondent by now, thinking you had forgotten a day that meant so much for both of you.

And so when you got a call from Nanami, you dropped everything to get him and told the bakery to arrange for the delivery tomorrow, because you knew... nothing good ever came out of Satoru getting drunk.

"I missed youuuu~! Dearest, darling— my universe!"

To Satoru, the everything around him was a blur of lights and hiccups when you came to retrieve him. Nanami was so eager to wash his hands off him, leaving you with a pointed grimace as if pitying you.

. . .

"A-are you going to—hic!—leave m-me?" Satoru slurred for the nth time now, stumbling inside your house with you propping him.

"For the last time, no, but I'm tempted to," you hissed, throwing him a glare. Your husband was a very unpleasant drunk because he wasn't even a drinker in the first place. "Satoru—walk properly!"

You managed to get him into your bedroom, where Satoru flopped onto the bed, dissolving into groans. You exhaled deeply and plucked the buttons of his shirt open, trying to get him change into his sleepwear.

"Ah... haaah," suddenly he caught your hand and placed it on his bare chest, his eyes blazing into yours, rambling, "Sweetheart—please. I c-can't live without you now... I'm sorry—I'm sorry for anything, or everything, I don't even know but—please don't hate me—"

"Satoru..." Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. Why was he this spooked? "I'm not leaving you, okay?"

"I promise you, I'll do better—" his voice was watery, as if his throat was clogged up. "I'll be better..." His voice then reduced into a whisper. The alcohol had stripped away his facade, leaving his raw emotions exposed.

Something inside you lurched. Throughout the nine years you have been with him, Gojo Satoru was always irritatingly self-assured, and so seeing him like this— so openly fragile, it did more than just churn your insides; it made you realize the depth of his feelings.

In that moment, you knew your reassurance meant everything.

"I'm not going anywhere, yeah?" you placed your other hand over his, offering him a genuine, soft smile. “Satoru, I’ve put up with your ass for more than nine years. So…” you shifted your eyes away, suddenly feeling embarrassed, before looking at him again. “I'm here... for you, always.”

His grip on your hand loosened slightly, but the intensity in his gaze didn't wane, and you would've laughed when he hiccupped next if you weren't feeling the overwhelming warmth in your chest.

But oh you wouldn't have expected it, because one heartbeat later, he yanked you down to the bed— crashing his lips against yours.

“Mmmph!”

He tangled his nimble fingers on your hair, and his other hand slipped inside your blouse, unclasping your bra in one flick. You let out a gasp, "Satoru—! "

Before you could even gasp, in the next second, he flipped you over— seizing your puffy lips once more. His hands now moved with more urgency, squeezing your breasts rather roughly, flicking your nipples with the pads on his thumbs.

And soon, far sooner than you thought...

"Who else gets to see you like this?" Satoru inquired darkly after you were naked under him, his voice low and deep. He was no longer that stupid husband of yours, rather the wanton man of your nightly wonders.

Without warning, he slid one of his fingers into your folds, probing your walls, and a gasp escaped you as you arched your back, throwing your head back on the sheets.

"No— one," your voice came in a breathless moan, still reeling. "H-how can y-you ask me—" Stretching you out even further, he entered another finger and you wailed, "Mmgh!"

He had always loved the sounds you made and how you were so pretty squirming under him like this. And before you knew it, his face was inches from your cunt, blowing hot air into your sensitive flesh.

"Tell me, who is the only person who gets to see you like this?"

Your eyes rolled back, words died on your tongue as his skilled tongue ran down on your drenched pussy. You instinctively tried to close your legs around his head, but he firmly held them apart.

"You." Panting, your mind racing to form coherent thoughts. You managed to mutter, "Only you... No one else—hah—just y-you...!"

He suckled on your clit hungrily then, rewarding you for your honesty. Squelching noises echoed around your marital bed as your arousal pooled around his fingers— you being so incredibly, irrevocably close to your release.

"Haaah, ngh—mmph!—Satoru, I'm a-about to—!" but then, in one cruel twist, he withdrew his digits, and your pussy throbbed at the loss.

You muffled your whines, feeling betrayed and irritable. "What—why—!?"

"Don't think that I'll let you cum anywhere else but my cock," he stated gallantly with an unusually stern expression, blue eyes narrowing as he assessed your wetness. Right in front of your eyes, his cock sprung after he let it out of his pants.

"Soon, you'll feel me..." Your eyes shamelessly followed his long length as he placed it on your lower belly. "...there."

Everything about him using that taunting tone turned you on, and true to his words, he soon slid himself inside you. He let out a low grunt at the feeling of how your walls clenching around him and you whined, the pain of being stretched making you almost sob.

"Shit, hold still," Satoru groaned, pushing down on your belly. "You're so tight— relax for me a bit, sweetheart? You're doing so, so fucking well."

His words went through you, and you could feel yourself opening more to ease his intrusion. Next thing you knew, he was buried deep inside you, and his gaze met you once again.

"Are you okay?" he asked between breaths, voice softening. When you nodded in response, he planted a kiss on your chest.

"I love you," he said in a rasp, eyes piercing your soul. "I’ll give you anything. My body, heart, soul—you can have it all. In return, you just have to promise one thing." His eyes, now clearer, deprived of the earlier haze, boring straight into you like an arrow.

"Don't ever leave me."

"I won't," you replied resolutely, catching your breath. Your own eyes shone with your love for him, making it even. "For as long as I live, it's going to always be you."

Satoru gazed at you as if you were his skies and stars, and before he started pounding into you, he vowed—

"Then I'm yours."

And soon, you were a nothing more than a frenzy, hot mess. You couldn’t help the nasty moans flying out of your lips as he kept barreling into you. His grunts reverberated throughout the room, rutting you through your hazed mind.

And the way he was whispering provocations into your ear, pushing you further into ecstasy at the mere thought of—

"What if... I get you pregnant this time?" A thrust. "Just imagine—" Another. "My wife, all round—" Another. "—just because I—am doing this to her—!"

You were barely registering his rambles at this point. Your walls clenching around his girth impossibly tight and you let him claim you as his thoroughly, your legs locking around his waist.

"Ah—ngh, mmrgh! Satoru—more!"

This wasn't you, the usual you wouldn't be this daring— but even you'll be more than forgiven tonight.

Satoru's jaw tightened at the sheer pleasure you brought him, his ego stroked, and his heavenly eyes darkened as you begged and dug your nails into him. He was so close, he could feel it. Your moans was enough to lead him to cum right here and there.

But before that, he was determined to show you, to whom you truly belong.

“My wife.” He growled. A thrust.

“Mine.” You gasped. Harder.

“All mine.” Deeper.

"Yes," you cried. "Yours— all yours, so please—!"

And three deep thrusts later, Satoru finally busted his load inside you, spurts after spurts painting your wall white— filling you up so hard it was spilling out. And your orgasm followed in immediate effect along with your hitched screams of pleasure, before the two of you collapsed on each other, a mix of groans and sweat, entwined in cum, bliss and exhaustion.

"Love you, sweetheart," you heard him murmuring in your ears, enveloping you in a warm embrace as you drifted into sleep.

Next morning, you were awoken to soft hums in your ears.

"Oh, the sleeping beauty awakens." The first sight you saw was Satoru's cheeky grin, and him pecking you on the lips. "How are you?"

"Mmm..." you winced, feeling the slight twinge between your legs. He noticed it and gently untangled himself from you, fingers tracing your waist. "Don't move around too much, you're going to bother my little swimmers, you know."

It took you a few seconds to realize what he meant and you glared at him. "You horny weirdo. I just woke up."

“Heh heh heh~ Don't take it too seriously! I was just trying to get you to smile.” He pinched your cheeks and then mused, “Well, I'd actually be surprised if we made it last night...”

"You're not funny," you retorted. You had been feeling weird and that was when you saw it.

The dazzling, massive diamond ring. On your finger. Wait, is that Graff's Tribal Collection?

"Satoru..." you mumbled, lifting your hand in shock, your eyes fixed on the piece that likely cost more than your monthly wage. "You..."

"Do you like it?" his smile was so easy and light, adoring the sight of you. You were so adorable, marveling at the little gift he got you.

"What do you mean—" you stuttered, turning to him. "Are you crazy?! I can't wear something this expensive—!"

"But that's exactly my point. It's a gift, meant to spoil my wife."

"You are mad," warmth flooded your cheeks, your heart fluttering with joy. You were unbelievably giddy because your husband really knew the way to your heart, yet you'd be damned if you let the excitement show in front of him.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression souring, and with a mocking tone, he accused you, "Actually, you're the one who's gone mad. I can't believe you forgot our anniversary!"

"I didn't, you dummy. I was out picking up your favorite mochi cake before you got yourself wasted." You turned away from him, shyly. "And I got a gift for you too."

"Oh? Oooh! Really!? What is it?!"

He was back to his silly self again, and you could only shake your head, wondering how the sex god from last night and this fool was the same person.

Yet, you felt nothing but love. Your heart couldn't help but melt for him when you saw that carefree grin.

And you couldn't be more grateful to the stars for bringing him into your life.

. . .

Oh, and little did you know that his little swimmers also made the goal last night— as three weeks later, you found yourself clutching the first of your pregnancy tests, which was showing a positive.

#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff #gojo x you #satoru gojo fluff #jjk x reader fluff #jjk x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #18+ only #satoru gojo x reader smut

[sutorus]

BAD IDEA RIGHT? BEST FRIEND'S DAD!TOJI for KINKTOBER 2023!

DESCRIPTION: you and megumi are old friends, but a recent development (called growing up) has made you aware of just how hot his dad, toji fushiguro, really is. you sit on your desire for years until one night, you get an idea. 

PAIRING: best friend’s dad!fushiguro toji x reader

WC: 5.1k whoops!

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORDS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, age gap! power dynamics, slight daddy kink, degradation, spit (like a lot it's a Thing here), oral (m! receiving), unprotected relations, slapping, gaping, size difference/size kink, creampie, toji is Nasty and a pretty bad dude lol 

A/N: this is nasty and very descriptive i’m so sorry i really sinned here. anyway enjoy!

you and megumi have been friends since school. after all, it was inevitable that a friendship would form between the only two kids whose parents consistently forgot to pick them up after class. 

nods of acknowledgment quickly developed into trading pokémon cards, sharing samanco waffles, cheating off each other during tests. 

it was the most meaningful relationship you had in your life, the one other person who really got you and the situation you were in, and before you knew it, you two were being admitted to the same college, like you’d talked about all those years ago. 

in the meantime, megumi’s dad had… mellowed out. from what you knew. 

sure, he was still gone for weeks at a time, neglectful, irresponsible and womanizing, but one final falling out with their family seemed to have lifted a big weight off his shoulders, and he became more present in megumi’s life, less resentful. you knew he wasn’t a good guy, but you also knew he was trying, in his own way. 

besides that, you also couldn’t help noticing other things about the man. you first started paying attention when you were in high school, always hanging out at megumi’s place to play video games or study. 

toji would come home sometimes, smelling of smoke and sake, tonguing the scar on the side of his lip. plopping down on their shaggy sofa, legs spread wide, thick thighs straining the fabric of his pants. you would give megumi some excuse about getting something from the kitchen and just watch toji, lazily browsing channels with one hand inside his sweats. 

it wasn’t a big deal. but it never quite went away, your infatuation growing with your desperation the more the man hung around. you did everything you could to get his attention. 

you wore the frilliest, shortest skirts, left dirty dishes on the sink, showed up too late at night drunk and stumbling “looking for megumi”, acting out so you could try to get some reaction out of toji. but he never seemed to give you a second thought, annoyance being the closest thing to an emotion on his face every time your eyes met. 

but you were no quitter. you knew one day you would get what you deserved. maybe not today, but… eventually.

you approach the fushiguro household’s front door, fishing out the extra key megumi had given you from your backpack pocket. you two had a study session today but he’d texted you telling you he’d be late and to just let yourself in, so that’s what you do. 

with a sigh, you set down your laptop on their coffee table and sit down on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. before you can finish getting comfortable, a tall, broad figure is looming over your face and you almost jump out of your skin. 

“what the f—oh my god,” you laugh in embarrassment. “you scared me, fushiguro-san.”

he doesn’t react, his eyes boring into yours. “me? you’re the one breaking into my house.”

you roll your eyes, pulling your legs up below your body. “megumi gave me a key. we’re supposed to study today, do you know where—“

“he’s with that itadori kid. don’t think he’s coming back tonight,” toji moves to sit down on the loveseat, turning the tv on. the old, boxy thing crackles to life, a boat race playing on the screen. toji adjusts his body in attention. “so you can fuck off back home.”

“um,” you start, but nothing else comes out of your mouth. you let your eyes wander all over his lax form, and you can faintly make out his abs below the raggedy shirt he’s wearing. it makes your stomach turn. 

without taking his eyes off the screen, he addresses you again. “you know where the door is.”

an idea starts to form in your head. a really, really bad, tempting idea.

you discreetly take off your sweatshirt, leaving you in just your undershirt, no bra. you hope toji can scent the whiff of perfume you exude when you move, scooting closer to the edge of the sofa. 

“nah, i think i’ll just study here. my parents are home today and they’re too… y’know.”

“not my fuckin’ problem,” he picks at his teeth, spreading his legs wider. your desperation is growing with each second he spends not looking at you. 

you lift up your bag, something clinking inside. it's a bold move, but it's now or never.

“i brought booze. we could just share some and then i’ll go.”

that at least gets a reaction. the man snorts, finally glancing over at you from the corner of his eyes. you instinctively push your chest out, feeling eager. 

“is that what you do with my son under my roof? get shitfaced in the house that i pay for?”

“well i paid for the vodka so i don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you make a point to pull out the bottle from your bag, swinging it around. 

toji’s expression hardens, his jaw clenching. you know he doesn’t like to be challenged, absolutely hates smart mouths. you should be in for a treat. 

“who the hell do you think you’re talking to, kid?” he stands up and snatches the bottle from you, turning it around in his — big, veiny, deliciously calloused — hand and laughing. “vanilla flavored? fuck, you really are a kid.” he says it like the realization excites him. 

you can feel your face flush.

“are you gonna turn down free alcohol, toji?” it’s risky, dropping the honorific. you know he doesn’t like it, can see it in his face, but he doesn’t say anything. 

instead, he unscrews the top with ease and takes a swig, grimacing at the taste. you watch as his throat works, adam’s apple bobbing.

his arms are huge, you can’t imagine he was ever shaped like megumi is nowadays, slender and frail. toji is tall and broad and big, with a permanent 5 o’clock shadow on his defined features. 

he grabs two whiskey glasses and sets them down on the coffee table — no coasters —, pouring some vodka in both of them. it was most definitely not your idea to do straight shots tonight with megumi, but you will not go through the humiliation of asking for a soda to mix it with. 

you’re desperate to have toji view you as the adult you are, no longer megumi’s awkward middle school best friend. you know you’ve grown up well; all you need is for toji to see it too. 

you drink in silence for a bit, the only noises coming from toji being his disappointed grunts as the boats he bet on fall behind. you type away at your laptop, not really being able to focus with the heat rising within you. 

he refills both your cups a couple more times, but makes no effort to talk.

you slowly but surely start to get antsy, your determination wavering and giving way to a funny feeling one can only experience by drinking with their best friend’s dad who they’ve wanted to fuck for like, ever. 

so you bite the bullet and with the liquid courage flowing in your veins, you strike up conversation. 

“y’know, toji, i’ve always wanted to ask,” his head lolls on his shoulder to look at you lazily and disinterested. “what happened to megumi’s mom? he doesn’t talk about it.”

“yeah, well. me either,” toji replies. you take a deep breath. 

“you’re gone a lot. megumi is alone a lot.”

toji scoffs.

“thought that was what you were here for, hmm? megumi’s done well for himself,” he finally, probably for the first time in your life, gives you a proper look over, his eyes traveling all over your frame, tucked into the armrest of the couch. “scored himself a nice little bitch.”

you let out a strangled noise. you’re fighting laughter when you exclaim, “i’m sorry?! you think megumi and i have a—like, a thing?”

toji just shrugs, stretching one leg out in front of him. “i figured. why else would you loiter around my house so much?”

oh, if he only knew. 

“no, no. it’s never been like that. megumi’s not really my type.” toji hums inquisitively, and you take that as a sign to continue. “i’m into more… mature guys.”

toji eyes you knowingly, but seemingly amused. 

“that right?” you nod. “fuckin’ kid like you even know what to do with a man?”

you raise an eyebrow. you’re a sophomore in college, well into your twenties. he can’t be serious. “surely you know i’m not a kid anymore. surely you d—“

“surely my ass,” he exclaims and oh, he’s a little terrifying like this. toji downs however much was left in his cup and turns to you, pointing with the hand holding his glass. “you’re a full of shit, foul mouthed, rude brat. get the fuck out of my house, you’re pissing me off.”

you’re used to toji’s outbursts, not because you know him well but because every time you see him, seldom as it is, he always loses his temper, sooner or later. 

“i think,” you take another sip, feeling loose. “your old ass wouldn’t be able to handle sex. like, actual sex, not those rich hags you who just lay there for you and give you money in the end. if you had to put in any real work i bet your heart would give out you slimey pi—“

you can’t finish your sentence because you can’t breathe, suddenly. your eyes widen, chest spasming as your oxygen gets cut off mid-sentence. toji has one of his huge palms covering your nose and mouth.

you look up at him with watery eyes but he’s not looking back, he’s chugging vodka straight from the bottle again.

he puffs his cheeks and moves his hand to cup your jaw, smirking around a mouthful of alcohol. 

you catch your breath quickly, the hand that was clawing at his falling limply on your lap. toji holds your face, his grip unforgiving as he leans over you. his form is so, so much bigger than yours, towering over you completely, and all you can do is look up at him with a blank expression. 

his thumb pries your mouth open with ease, the digit hooking behind your bottom teeth as toji’s face gets closer and closer. on instinct, you close your eyes. 

soon, hot, stinging liquid is pouring steadily into your mouth. toji swishes the rest of the vodka between his cheeks — on purpose, you’re sure — before spitting it directly on your tongue.

it’s disgusting, everything about it makes your stomach churn, but it also makes you squeeze your legs together, chest rising and falling rapidly as you swallow without having to be told to. 

“ya talk too fuckin’ much, brat,” he grumbles. ironically, you’re at a loss for words. “someone needs put you in your place already.”

“you,” your voice cracks and nearly fails you, but you’re determined. it surprises him, that you’d have something to say. that you’re still game. you can see it in his face, in the way his hands come off of you. “i want you to.”

toji’s expression is hard and unchanging. his fingers go back to your face, two of them slipping inside your lax lips.

your breath stutters as you inhale, instinctively sucking the digits and working your tongue around them.

toji grabs his cock through his pants pointedly.

“fuckin’ slut… that what you want?” you nod. he takes a step forward, knees hitting the couch. “is that why you walk around my house looking like a fucking whore?”

a whine dies in your throat at the sweet, sweet recognition.

he noticed.

he noticed and it bothered him and you really couldn’t bring yourself to care that he was your best friend’s father right now because he was tenting his sweatpants and your mouth was watering at the sight. 

“please…” you paw at his waistband, pulling on the drawstrings. toji laughs at your desperation, voice growing gruff. 

he buries a hand in your hair, fingers closing around your locks tightly and making your eyes sting with tears. slowly, he pushes your face into his crotch, so close that you can feel it pulsing, can feel every ridge, can feel that he’s not wearing any underwear.

god, you can smell him, and it makes your head spin, your mouth huffing out hot breaths and wetting the front of his pants. 

you hook your fingers in the back of his sweats and pull until they’re down tight around his thighs. you have to maneuver the fabric over the head of his erection, earning a hiss from the man towering over you.

his dick springs up, slapping you in the face and leaving a smear of pre across the bridge of your nose. you think toji snorts at that but you can’t be sure. you’re too mesmerized.

he’s so, so big, the skin darker and flushed, tight, heavy balls and the head, angry red, peeking out from the foreskin.

your throat goes dry at the thought of it inside of you, inside any of your holes, because you know it’ll destroy you forever. and you want it. 

toji doesn’t have the appeal that most men his age do to most girls your age. he doesn’t make you feel safe, he doesn’t offer financial support, he doesn’t care about your well-being, he doesn’t have his shit together. and to make matters worse to you, he’s your best friend’s dad, who your best friend doesn’t even like that much, whose presence has been totally indifferent to megumi for most of his life. 

it makes you burn in shame to know you’re about to have a man 25 years your senior in your mouth.

you readjust your position on the couch so that you’re sitting on your knees, angling your face with his cock. it’s curved, pointing up, and you wonder how much of it he’s gonna wanna stuff down your throat. judging by the pure evil glinting in his eyes, it’s gonna be as much as possible. 

you take a deep breath, steadying a hand around his length. it’s concerning that you can just barely close your fingers around him, but you put that thought aside to focus on pulling the skin down gently so you can wrap your lips around the tip. 

toji sighs in relief, his grip in your hair tightening.

you begin to work your head up and down, licking the underside of his cock to gather up saliva. 

“thaaat’s it, what a good little bitch. got a sweet little mouth on ya,” he whispers, hips thrusting slightly to work his cock further into your mouth. “yer gonna take all of it? or are ya all talk?”

you whine, gripping the base and sliding further down his length. he’s already hitting the back of your throat, making your eyes water and your stomach seize. you pick up the pace, twisting your wrist rhythmically as you suck him. 

“don’t swallow,” he threatens, forcing his cock deeper into you, the head sliding into the opening of your throat. “lemme see how messy this slutty face can get.”

you choke audibly, eyes smarting with tears, makeup smudging. you look up at him with furrowed brows in a silent plea of mercy. 

toji’s having none of it.

he puts one foot down on the sofa, next to your legs, giving himself the leverage to start fully fucking your face now. he wraps both hands around your throat and thrusts his hips violently into your mouth, his thumbs pressing down to feel his length in your throat. 

“ahh, fuck,” he throws his head back, reveling in your desperate gurgles. you feel like a fucking ragdoll, like a fleshlight, unable to control the noises you make or how much dick you take. “takin’ me so well. who taught you to squeeze your throat like that, huh? so fuckin’ slutty.” 

you sob around his cock, nose buried in his pubes. he’s impossibly hard, impossibly wet as thick strings of spit and pre hang from your lips, dripping down to his balls, falling to the floor.

toji keeps fucking your throat relentlessly, granting you mere seconds between thrusts to inhale a desperate breath that immediately starts to burn in your lungs. 

he’s a fucking sight though, above you. chin tucked into his chest, veins bulging and biceps flexed, nostrils flared as he watches you devour him. 

he pulls out suddenly, leaving you choking for air. tears stream down your face, spit bubbling out of your nostril. you look all wrong, like you’d been put back together by someone after being utterly demolished.

“open your mouth,” toji orders. you obey and he grabs his cock, slapping the head against your tongue a few times. he slides his length in and out for a bit before he starts jerking himself off. “suck my balls.” 

you take that moment to swallow down the saliva that had pooled between your teeth, tucking away the wet strands of hair that frame your face.

toji’s lifting his cock towards his belly, fisting the head and flicking his wrist. he looks at you expectantly, and you understand it’s time to prove yourself once again. 

you place a gente thumb right below his shaft, where his sack hangs. your tongue dips in between his balls, shyly at first, just slightly tracing the shape of them before you pop one into your mouth. 

toji groans, the hand on his cock gaining speed. you squeeze your thighs together; you’re so wet that it makes you uncomfortable. you lean forward on your knees, steadying yourself with your palms planted firmly on his thighs. 

you’re sucking his balls earnestly now , one then the other, then both at the same time, angling your head up and working your tongue up and down the wrinkled skin.

toji’s loving it, maybe more than the blowjob, and it makes you feel like a toy all over again, in an even more humiliating way because now you’re not even allowed to touch his cock, he’s just getting to use your mouth anywhere he wants. 

it’s so fucking hot that it makes you dizzy. you hollow your cheeks, giving his nutsack a good suck before gingerly lifting his balls. you sneak a glance up at toji, hoping to catch him by surprise when your tongue dips even lower, approaching some pretty controversial territory. 

it works. his breath catches in his throat and his knee kicks out instinctively.

he grabs your hair immediately, pulling you away from him. 

“fuck,” you look up at him smirking, lips smeared with saliva and snort. but you don’t even care how debauched you look right now, as long as you can keep the upper hand. “you’re a nasty little bitch, aren’t ya?”

he leans down to kiss you deeply, messily, inhaling loudly through his nose. toji finishes stepping out of his sweatpants and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing what you’d been imagining for so many years. 

you run your hands over his chest, his abs, down his hips, his v-line. he’s so fucking hot, got bulging muscles you didn’t even know existed in the human body, and scars you can’t even fathom the origin of. 

he stares at you, looking bored. “get up.”

you do, legs shaking and prickling with pins and needles. now you can fully feel the scope of your arousal, how your panties stick to your core uncomfortably, how the wet tops of your thighs rub together. 

toji sits down on the sofa and you waste no time getting on his lap, clawing at his chest and leaning in for another kiss. he’s unforgiving even like this, so much bigger than you, his hand on the back of your neck and his mouth on yours. 

“arms up,” and when you comply, he’s pulling your tank top off. “good girl.”

you shiver, instinctively wrapping an arm around yourself. toji tsks at that, easily taking both your wrists in one hand and pinning them behind your back. he grabs your tit with the other, popping as much of it as he can in his mouth. 

you groan, fighting against his grip to get your hands on his hair, his shoulders, anywhere. toji relentlessly sucks on your nipple, nibbling and circling it with his tongue.

when he pulls off, he lands a swift slap across your boob, ripping a groan from you. 

“such a good fuckin’ slut, look at that body.”

he slaps your ass, this time, tugging your shorts over your butt. you help him get it off of you and then, finally, you’re straddling toji’s cock, no layers in between you two, just your dripping core on him. 

you think, belatedly, condom, but then toji is pulling you in for another kiss and for all you know megumi could come home any minute and you wouldn’t want to waste time like that. or so you tell yourself. 

his hands guide your hips to grind over him, soft mewls coming out of you and being buried into the crook of his neck. 

“pretty little girl, gonna ride me? hmm? gonna ride this old man’s cock?” you whine, nodding.

you press your front against his so you can lift your ass up and guide the tip into your entrance. you don’t expect to be able to take it all, but at least like this you can control the pace and how much of it is going into you, the only thing keeping you from panicking at the sheer size of him. 

the head of toji’s cock doesn’t slip inside so much as it pops inside, the ridge locking just past your opening.

it’s too big, and even though you’re soaking wet, it’s still a stretch. you both groan in unison and you realize, this is it. this is your fantasy, you’re fucking toji fushiguro, megumi’s dad, your best friend’s dad. 

your legs tremble as you hold yourself up, too soon to sink down more on his cock. toji’s playing with your nipples but you have a sneaking suspicion his patience isn’t going to last much longer. 

you give it a valiant effort to take more in and it feels like being ripped in two. you clench your jaw, a bead of sweat rolling down your temple. 

“fuuuuck, so fuckin’ tight,” toji spreads your ass cheeks with both hands, rubbing the thin skin where you two are connected. he thrusts up, feeding your poor pussy more of his cock, and you let out a scream. “take it, c’mon.”

“unghh—can’t, toji, hang on—“

“‘course ya can,” he fucks up into you again and you sob, nails raking down his chest. he hisses and slaps your ass in punishment. you realize you might really cry.

“i can’t, it’s too big, too much—“

“shhh,” in an uncharacteristic display of affection, toji kisses the furrow between your brows, snaking a thumb between you two to rub your clit. 

you throw your head back, body torn between seeking more pleasure and running from the pain. you can hear how wet you are as toji fucks in and out of you, your plush walls hugging him so well, weeping around him. 

he speeds up and you bury your face in his chest, moaning wantonly into his skin. toji lets out staccato grunts, working his cock further into you with each thrust. 

“any scrubs your age givin’ it to you like this?” he breathes out, grabbing your ass hard and moving it up and down his length for you. you whine, drooling on him. “yeah, that’s right. fuck, take it, that’s a good girl.”

“ahh, toji—“

“that’s not my name, whore,” he fists your hair and drags your head back until your eyes meet. “try again.”

“fushiguro-san—“ that earns you a hard slap on your ass. you yelp — wrong answer. 

“toji-sama—“ another slap, and this time he grips the reddening flesh viciously. you whine, squirming in his grip. 

“little braindead cumslut,” he wipes a tear with his thumb. “who’s fucking this tight pussy right now? huh? tell me who's ruining this slutty cunt.”

“d—daddy?” 

toji smiles, humming, his grip on you softening as he leans in for a kiss. “that’s right, sweetheart. show daddy how much you want it.”

it’s amusing to toji, you know it. he just wants to humiliate you because he’s aware of how badly you’ve wanted this. but it does something to you, it’s serious to you, it’s so fucking depraved and sexy to you. 

he lifts you up with ease and lays you back down on the couch. you feel so empty suddenly that it makes you want to cry, like toji has already carved a home inside of you for his cock that no one else will ever be able to fill. 

he wastes no time getting on top of you, hooking a hand under your leg and lifting it up onto his shoulder. your eyes widen immediately, a protest dying in your tongue. this position… his cock… it’s, god, it’s gonna be—

toji plunges in in one violent, perfunctory thrust. you let out a scream, your heel kicking toji square in the back as your body rises up from the couch. he’s all the way inside now. 

you can feel him bruising your cervix, his balls, wet with a mixture of the two of you, slapping against your ass, his hip bones drilling into you. 

“you’re so deep,” you look at him with panic in your eyes, chest gone cold at the overwhelming pleasure. “you’re so deep.”

toji laughs, pulling out to spit on his cock. he grabs your ankle and sets it on his shoulder. “yeah, baby, daddy’s all the way inside now. feels good, doesn’t it?” 

“fuck. oh fuck,” you let out shaky breaths, allowing toji to lay more of his weight on top of you. your knee is by your head now and somehow in this position his cock seems to hit even deeper, to curve up exactly in the right spots that have you struggling to breathe. “you’re gonna break me.” 

“takin’ me so well. just a natural slut aren’t ya,” he’s fucking you so fast now, wet, slapping sounds resounding across the whole house. 

there’s a thick creamy ring at the base of his cock, frothy and bubbly with how much you’ve been gushing for him. toji presses a thumb against your clit and rubs tight little circles, making you squeeze against him like a vice. 

he grunts, speeding up his movements.

“so sensitive, this cute little pussy. you a virgin?” he slaps it a few times, your wetness sticking to his fingers with every pat. “gonna cum soon, whore?”

you whine, nodding. you wrap both arms around toji’s neck and pull him closer, open mouth awaiting expectantly.

toji grins, spitting onto your tongue before leaning in to suck it. 

“toj—daddy,” you moan against his mouth, “daddy, i’m close.”

you don’t recognize your own voice. it’s slutty, desperate, pitchy, juvenile. it's too far gone.

toji works your clit over and over again, fucking you harder than you’ve ever been fucked. he splays a hand over your stomach, kneading the place where his cock is nestled inside of you and hitting a spot that makes you lose control of your body and words. 

“ah, ah, ah, oh god toji fuck daddy make me cum, please please can i cum—“

“oh, fuck,” his thrusts start to become erratic and you know he’s close too. you clench around him, one leg wrapping around his hips to make sure he stays inside until you're done. “cum on daddy’s cock, come on. make a mess, little girl.”

you throw your head back, burying it into the pillows as your entire body thrashes with your orgasm. you clamp around him so hard that you can't even tell where he ends and you begin. 

toji takes no mercy on you, his messy cock plunging in and out of you fast. 

“gonna fill up this pretty pussy, yeah?” you shake your head desperately, one hand punching his chest. he can’t finish inside of you, right? but why do you want it so bad? “no no no, don’t fuss now baby. you want daddy’s cum inside you, don’t you? wanna give megumi a baby brother? fuck yeah i know you do fuckin' take it whore fuuuuck, fuck i'm coming—”

he thrusts once, twice, three more times, knocking all air out of your lungs and the most ridiculous moans out of your mouth before he’s spilling into you, locking your legs like a fucking pretzel and biting down your neck. 

you can feel it pulsing, spurting inside of you. you can feel both your heartbeats in your abused cunt, both of your juices combined and oozing out of you. 

once you catch your breath, toji pulls out of you languidly, with a yawn. you two made a fucking mess, a sticky puddle on the couch right below your ass. 

toji eyes it disinterestedly, much like how he’s eyeing you right now. your sweaty, messy, fucked out self, nearly melting on the fushiguro household’s sofa. 

“ah. are ya on the pill or what?” he asks, like he just now remembered. after a few seconds you nod, a little incredulous. “heh. good.”

you slowly sit up, reaching for your sweatshirt to at least cover yourself up. you sneak a hand down to your cunt, fingers sliding through the mess there to dip inside you. 

fuck, you’re gaping. toji well and truly ruined your pussy. it makes you panic a little bit, but it also makes pride swell within your chest, knowing you took it, all of it. 

toji finally addresses you. 

“i’m gonna go take a shower,” he looks behind his shoulder, sighing. he points at you. “we left the fuckin’ tv on. if this shit racks up my bills you’re gonna have to pay me back.”

you guffaw. “me? pay you how?”

he smirks. 

“got one more hole i haven’t wrecked yet, dont’cha?” he flicks your forehead. you just sit there, incredulous, trembling legs, halfway to horny again. from the bathroom, toji calls out, “let yourself out. oh, and leave the vodka.”

A/N: lmfao! i got nothin to say in my defense. reblogs r very much appreciated

#✩.toji #✩.kinktober #toji fushiguro smut #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk kinktober #✩.tw daddy kink #✩.tw age gap #toji zenin #toji reader smut #✩.petra.doc #toji fushiguro x female reader #toji x female reader

[halfvalid]

pretty in that

ABOUT

rating: general audiences

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!monkey d. luffy | live action!nami

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k

description: you have a hard time picking a dress for dinner whilst in kaya's mansion. zoro (sort of) helps!

tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, fluff, kissing, confessions, no use of "y/n", special straw hat appearances (nami & luffy), soft zoro

author's note: i'm a sucker for dress-up scenes so i KNEW i was gonna write smth like this once that ep3 scene started playing. reader chooses a dress at the end; dress is non-described so you can imagine your ideal dress!

You were on Nami and Zoro’s side when it came to whatever was going on in Syrup Village. Kaya’s mansion made you feel vaguely unsettled, and stepping into the building made your heart pound quicker than you would like to admit. But if there was one thing that piqued your interest, it was the order of changing clothes for dinner. You’d been stuck in the same few outfits for weeks now, and the promise of something new—and formal—was nearly exciting, although you’d never admit it in front of Nami and her disapproving gaze. 

Kaya’s kindness combined with the private guest room and bath you were treated to helped soothe your nerves. Soon you found yourself being led to the giant closet the rest of the Straw Hats were already in—Nami was trying on various different pieces, and Zoro seemed to have something in hand too. 

“Ah, there you are!” Luffy said, swiveling on his heel and giving you a big grin as you entered the room. You stared in disbelief at all of the racks around you. Hell, there were even clothes hanging from the ceiling. 

“Well, we certainly have a lot of options,” you said, skimming a hand over a nearby rack. There were a variety of different fabrics, but they all felt expensive: silk and velvet, damasks and brocades. “I don’t even know where to start.” 

“I’m just trying on anything,” Nami called from where she was, before stepping out from the room divider she’d been changing behind. She wore an emerald dress with a plunging neckline, the patterned silk clinging to her curves, and did a little spin. “What do you think?” 

Luffy shrugged. Zoro wrinkled his nose, barely glancing up from the armchair he was lounging on. “I think it looks nice,” you offered, but Nami still seemed dissuaded. 

“Ugh, these two are impossible. What are you going to wear?” 

“Uh, I’m getting there,” you said with a little laugh. “It’s a bit overwhelming; I’d rather help you guys pick first. Luffy, have you found something yet?” You turned towards the man in the center of the room, who nodded enthusiastically. 

“Yeah, I found this!” He raised up a black waistcoat. You frowned at it. 

“Um, Luffy, waistcoats are supposed to be worn with a suit,” you said, then paused, seeing his blank look. “...Never mind.” 

“And I’m wearing black,” Zoro added, despite the piece of clothing slung along his lap definitely not being black. You exchanged a glance with Nami, who just rolled her eyes. They’re stupid, she mouthed, then returned to the rack she was glancing through. She worked quickly, pulling out various numbers that she scrutinized before either setting on the couch beside her or putting back. 

“Okay,” you said slowly. “Need me to find you some pants with that, Cap?” Nami and Zoro let out identical groans as you spoke the pet name, both turning to give you exasperated looks. You suppressed your laugh. 

“Stop calling him that,” Zoro said with a tired sigh. “You’re encouraging him.” 

“Kind of the point, yeah,” you said cheerfully. While Zoro and Nami were both still largely unconvinced about the whole pirate crew thing, you’d joined the bandwagon rather quickly. Zoro rolled his eyes, and you turned towards the racks to find Luffy some slacks. “Assumedly you need something other than that shirt too?” 

“I’ll look later,” Zoro said passively. You watched him out of your peripheral vision. He was outfitted in a patterned kimono, his three swords slung along his lap. He didn’t seem too interested in his surroundings, though what he was doing, you weren’t sure. You let him be, turning to page through the racks of clothes again. Finally you found a pair of slacks that seemed like they’d fit Luffy. 

“Here,” you said, passing them over to him. “And find some shoes while you’re at it.” 

“Why does she even have clothes that don’t fit her?” Zoro murmured, sounding as baffled as he could get. “What, she just casually has clothes in all four of our sizes hanging around?” 

“Rich people own things just to own them,” Nami called. She’d changed again; this dress had a halter neckline and was blush pink. Zoro motioned with a hand at it, and Nami frowned, glancing down at the dress. “You don’t like it?” 

“Eh,” Zoro said. Nami made a face. 

“At this point I think you’re hating just to hate.” She pulled up a few more options, narrowing her eyes as she surveyed them. Luffy was seemingly satisfied with what you’d given him, because he took the pieces off of their hangers and slung them over his shoulder. 

“I’m off,” he announced. “Gonna go change in my room and do some exploring before dinner. Have fun!” With that, he left, and Nami sighed, turning towards you. She held up her final two options—a red cheongsam with delicate gold embroidery and a pastel blue dress with an a-line skirt. You gnawed on your bottom lip as you studied the two.

“I think the blue one might wash you out a bit,” you said eventually; it’d clash with her hair no doubt, and make her skin look even paler. The shade wasn’t a right match with her eyes, either. “I like the cheongsam; I think you should go with that one. It contrasts nicely with your hair.” 

Nami raised up the dress again, inspecting it. “You’re right,” she said, ducking back behind the room divider to change. You started pursuing the racks again; Nami stepped out a few moments later, successfully outfitted in her new dress. “Okay, I’m going to go do my hair in my guest room. Good luck.” 

“Bye,” you called, watching as she left the room. You clicked your tongue, almost alone now and with absolutely zero options of clothing. As much as you liked the idea of new clothes, the abundance of options was starting to seem a little daunting. “Okay, now that Nami’s done, it’s my turn to play dress-up.” 

Zoro laughed from where he sat, and you startled, almost having forgotten he was there. He was watching you attentively, his attention having diverted from whatever it was he’d been thinking about earlier. “You like this kind of thing?” 

“Well, I mean.” You shrugged, peering at a few of the pieces on the rack in front of you. You pulled out a deep green dress, eyeing the lace by the neckline before setting it back. “It’s kind of fun, isn’t it?” 

“Not really what I’m into.” 

“You wear jewelry, so clearly you have some fashionable instinct,” you pointed out, bending over to glance at the clothes hiding by your knees. These were all skirts or unreasonably short dresses, with so little fabric you were uncertain they would cover anything at all. “Unless the earrings are for another reason…?”

“Three swords, three earrings.” 

“Makes sense. What are you wearing with your shirt?” You glanced back to see Zoro’s answer, but he merely shrugged. “Do you want me to find you some trousers? A suit?” 

“You don’t need to find clothes for me. I can do that myself.” Still, Zoro made absolutely no move to do so. You rolled your eyes, but turned your attention back on what you’d be wearing for the dinner. Vaguely you wondered how Zoro would look wearing a suit. You flushed almost as soon as the thought popped into your head, shoving it into the very back of your skull and banishing it from seeing the light of day. 

“If you say so,” you said instead, mostly to distract yourself from the beyond inappropriate thoughts starting to run through your head. Honestly, you barely knew your crew mates—the four of you were close to tearing each other’s throats out before you ran into Buggy, after all. And the fact that Zoro was, well, conventionally attractive—and you tried to keep your thoughts on that and that alone, anything emotional was strictly out of the question—shouldn’t be something your mind lingered on. 

You picked out the first dress that looked to be your size. It was dark purple, backless with a tight trumpet skirt. Ducking behind the room divider Nami had used, you stripped off your clothes, donning the dress. There was a mirror along the other side of the divider, and you turned, trying to appraise the dress on your figure. The color didn’t look entirely right, and you were uneasy about the lack of mobility the skirt might have—Kaya’s staff were still extremely suspicious, after all, and you’d rather be safe than sorry. 

“Let me see,” Zoro called from outside. You tugged at the dress, suddenly nervous, but stepped out after you couldn’t find a good enough excuse not to. Zoro’s eyes ran up and down your figure, and you did a slow circle, showing off the dress. The bare skin of your back prickled. 

“You’re not going to be able to move in it,” he eventually said. 

You huffed out a breath, the nervous energy that had accumulated in your chest leaving with the action. Something in your belly stirred; disappointment, maybe, that Zoro had only commented on the practicality of the dress, not how you looked in it. But you pushed those thoughts away with an angry shove. Not the time, and definitely not the person to be thinking those sorts of things about. “Yeah, that’s what I was worried about. Let me find something else.” 

Zoro’s gaze didn’t flicker from your body as you started across the room, ducking between more racks to find something. “You dead-set on a dress?” 

“I haven’t worn a dress in a while,” you answered, picking out a red one before remembering Nami’s choice and setting it back. “Might as well take the opportunity.” The next one you pulled was blue, all shiny and soft. The material looked like some kind of tender silk. You set it aside to try on. “Why?” 

“Haven’t seen either you or Nami in a dress before.” 

“Actually, you have. I’m wearing one right now and Nami tried like five on earlier,” you said, glancing over your shoulder to shoot Zoro an unimpressed look. He scoffed, though there was a smile at the edges of his mouth as he turned his head away. Your next choice was soft pink, and made of tulle that vaguely resembled a puff pastry. You pulled it up. “Think I should try it?” 

“I mean, pick whatever,” Zoro said, though he seemed mildly disgusted by the amount of fabric the skirt had, all bunched up with layers like something a ballerina might wear. “What are you trying to achieve with the dress?” 

“What am I—I’m trying to look nice, Zoro,” you said, stifling your laughter. You set the pink dress back, replacing it with a sage green number instead. “Not everything has ulterior motives.” 

“You always look nice.” 

You froze, a soft chill curling around the back of your neck. Carefully, you straightened up from where’d you been bent over yet another rack of clothes, turning to look Zoro in the eye. His eyes hadn’t moved. “Oh,” you managed out, throat all dry and tongue like sandpaper in your mouth. “Well, thank you.” 

Zoro cleared his throat, a dull noise he made in the hollow of his throat without even parting his lips. His gaze flickered away. “Yeah. Go try those on.” 

Wordlessly, you stepped back behind the room divider and slipped on the blue dress. It had a texture like water—it was some kind of high-end silk, flexible enough that it was near liquid in movement. The dress itself fell to your ankles, and had a simple square neckline. You stepped outside, doing another slow twirl. “Better,” Zoro said. 

“Better how?” 

“You can probably run in it.” 

You twisted your lips, trying to suppress the urge to turn them down into a frown. “Okay. It’s not doing it for me.” You ducked back behind the divider to change yet again; the sage green one was satin, with long sleeves and a neckline you hadn’t anticipated would be that deep. 

Still, upon exiting the divider and turning for Zoro again, he didn’t have any worthwhile feedback. “It’s kind of plain,” he said eventually, not meeting your eyes. 

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest; you had to almost resist stomping over to the racks to find something more, and spent another few minutes gathering dresses and trying them on. 

To your immense disappointment, each one garnered little to no reaction from Zoro. You even shoved on one of the tiny, too-little fabric dresses you’d disapproved of earlier, but all Zoro did was scan you from head to toe and say, rather flatly, “you’d get stabbed pretty easily in that.” 

Frustration bled into your nerves as you hid behind the divider again. You glared at yourself in the mirror—your skin had started flushing with how annoyed you were getting, which might’ve been funny had you not been so ticked off. Men, you thought, irritated. Was it really so hard to tell you that you looked pretty? 

He’s a bounty hunter, you had to remind yourself. He doesn’t care about this kind of thing. Besides, he was the last person you should be setting your sights on anyway. You tugged at the short dress, the hem just barely grazing the tops of your thighs. 

You heard footsteps approaching from outside the divider, suddenly too close as you snapped yourself out of the reverie of thoughts you’d been lost in. Zoro turned the corner, arm propped up against the divider edge as he peered in, brows furrowed. “You stopped coming out,” he said. He was still in his kimono, swords tossed over one shoulder. The shirt he had was, assumedly, left on the couch he’d finally stood up from. 

“I’m frustrated,” you told him blandly. His frown deepened. 

“Because of… clothing?” 

You suppressed the sigh that threatened to escape your lungs. “Never mind. I’m fresh out of ideas.” You pushed past Zoro, opting to stand in the center of the room as if analyzing it from a different view would magically give you more options. Zoro turned to stare, still looking perplexed. “With so many options, it’s hard to make up my mind, that’s all.” 

“Uh huh.” Zoro was still studying you. “Did I do something?” 

“What? No,” you said hastily. Too hastily. The words had ripped out of your throat like a hiccup, and you seriously needed to learn how to lie a bit better because now Zoro’s expression was even more confused. “No. Why would I be mad at you?” 

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.” 

“It’s nothing,” you insisted, turning away from Zoro to stare at some of the clothes hanging on the wall above his head. These were too high up to properly look at, and as you stepped back, you glanced through the dresses hanging off the arch of the ceiling. You perused them without too much interest, eyes glancing over the various colors and fabrics until— 

Zoro stepped next to you. “Hey,” he said, and you jolted, head snapping down to look at him. You let out a noise of irritation, then turned your focus back on the ceiling. 

Your gaze flickered through the racks until finally falling on one particular dress hanging by the mouth of the room. It was somewhat hidden, tucked in a little corner beside a few other pieces, but from your vantage point it seemed about your size. 

You took a step closer to it, surveying it with your neck craned. The material looked soft and comfortable but it still retained shape, and the color—even in the dim lighting of the closet—was one of your favorites. The undertone would suit your skin perfectly. And, well, you didn’t want to put all your bets on one dress you hadn’t even touched, but it was certainly promising. 

Zoro stepped past you, barely exerting any effort to reach up and bring the dress down from where it hung up high. “This one, right?” he asked, and you swallowed, some of the annoyances you had towards him dissolving as he extended the dress hanger towards you. You nodded wordlessly, taking it. You stood there for a second before Zoro gestured with his head towards the divider. “Go try it on.” 

You did so, retreating safely behind your wall and stepping out of the little dress. You surveyed the one Zoro had grabbed for you again, heart lodged in your throat. It really was beautiful, and exactly your style; now that you saw it up close, you could safely affirm it was your size too, but nervousness still pulsed through your veins at it. 

Carefully, you slipped it on, adjusting the fabric around your hips and fixing up the neckline to rest evenly on your skin.

Zoro spoke out from the rest of the room. “So why are you mad at me?” 

“I’m not—” you sighed, dropping your arms before returning to fiddle with the dress. “I’m not mad at you.” 

“Is it because I wasn’t being helpful with the clothes? Because I already said that’s not exactly my area of expertise—” 

“It’s not because of the clothes, Zoro,” you said sharply, cutting him off. Zoro clicked his tongue, the sound reverberating around the room and thudding in time with your heartbeat. You turned your attention back onto your reflection. “It’s just me being silly. Don’t worry about it.” 

‘I’m worrying about it,” Zoro deadpanned. You sighed, adjusting the dress one final time before arranging your hair and staring at yourself in the mirror. It fit you perfectly, emphasizing all the right places and hiding all the parts of your body you were more insecure about. “Changed yet?” 

“Yeah,” you said, voice limp. 

“Let me see.” 

You bit your lip, suddenly nervous about how he’d react. Knowing him, it’d be something like it’s okay or the color’s fine; perhaps can you even walk in that? or weird shape if he was feeling a little more critical. Still, you stepped out anyway, not meeting Zoro’s eyes as you spun for him, letting him look at the dress from all angles. When you’d finished posing you glanced up, eyes meeting him tentatively. 

“It’s…” Zoro cleared his throat, ripping his gaze away from the dress on your figure to flicker up to your face. His gaze dropped again nearly as fast, like he couldn’t bear to keep eye contact. “Uh.” 

“It’s what?” you prompted, turning to face the nearest mirror. Your lips twisted into a worried frown, turning to glance at the dress again. Was it really not as perfect as you’d thought originally? “Do you like it? It’s my favorite so far, I think, but if you don’t like it—” 

“You look pretty in that,” Zoro blurted, cutting your rambles off with the strident, too-loud sentence. You froze, eyes flickering to meet him in the mirror. Carefully, he glanced up at you, and you could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. 

“Oh.” 

Zoro coughed, averting his gaze as you slowly turned around to face him. You couldn’t see properly with the less-than-ideal lighting of the room, but his face seemed to have taken on a ruddier complexion. “I like it,” he said, words softer than they’d been before. “It’s the one.” 

There was a little rush of something through your veins, and you felt vaguely lightheaded. “Okay,” you barely managed to squeak out. “Thanks.” You stumbled back behind the divider, sucking in a deep breath and trying to regulate your breathing. God, this was actually shameful at this point. 

You composed yourself quickly, gathering all the dresses you’d tried on and abandoned to return to their proper places. Zoro was still watching you attentively, and you glanced over your shoulder at him. Sparks prickled along your skin as your eyes met. “What?” you asked. 

“You’re acting weird.” 

“Am not.” 

Zoro stood up, rolling back his shoulders and stretching his head from side to side. He glanced through the racks and, without even a minute’s hesitation, plucked a suit jacket and matching pants out from beside him. “Yeah, you are. What’s up?”

“You’re just grabbing those without thinking about it?” you demanded, eager to change the subject. Zoro rolled his eyes.

“I picked them like fifteen minutes ago,” he said. “Just didn’t grab them until you were done your whole… thing. Now spill it. You’re all red again.” 

You swiveled towards the closest mirror, unable to suppress your gape as you saw that your skin had indeed turned a distinctive shade of scarlet, flushed undertones creeping their way up your skin. It was entirely recognizable even in the terrible lighting. Even your skin was treacherous, now. “Nothing,” you muttered, unable to meet Zoro’s eyes as you spit it out. “I was annoyed because you weren’t telling me what you thought of the dresses.” 

“I… did, though?” Zoro said, perplexed. You let out a grating sigh, cheeks flaring even hotter now that he was forcing you to confess the entire extent of your sins. 

“Yeah, like, practically,” you said, wrapping your arms defensively over your chest. “You’ll get stabbed in that so easily. You won’t be able to walk. I just wanted you to tell me that—” you cut yourself off with another groan. “Don’t make me say it.”

Zoro blinked. “I have no idea what you’re edging towards, so you’re going to have to say it.”

“I just wanted you to tell me I looked nice!” you finally burst out, turning so you wouldn’t have to look at Zoro’s face. God, you were going to have to quit the Straw Hats after this. It was so entirely stupid. 

“But—” There was a laugh in Zoro’s voice, and you glared down at the floor, all of your dignity having left you by this point. You had no shame left to feel anymore. “I said ‘you always look nice’. Doesn’t that insinuate—” 

“That’s not the point,” you said hotly, tone almost argumentative now. “I wanted you to think I looked pretty in a dress, Zoro.” 

Zoro didn’t respond for a moment, brows creasing and face taking on a baffled expression. “But why—” Zoro cut himself off, and you turned even redder, holding your breath as he finally connected the dots. A single word fell from his lips, like a soft breath of air as he spoke. “Oh.” 

“Oh,” you muttered under your breath, unable to stop the almost whining tone your voice took on. Zoro stepped closer to you, a hand wrapping around your wrist and forcing you to look up at him. 

“I said you looked pretty in this one.” 

“I know,” you insisted, still all red, “which is why I’m not totally mad at you, but—” 

“You looked pretty in all of them,” Zoro said. He didn’t look bashful, per se—you didn’t think Zoro could get shy—but his voice was low, all hoarse in a more tentative way rather than one of his grating remarks this time. “For the record.” 

Your breath caught. 

“This one’s my favorite, though,” Zoro muttered. And then he was leaning down to kiss you, the ghost of his lips just on the corner of your mouth. You gaped up at him in shock as he averted his gaze, staring at some spot about your head. “Was that—” he started, before clearing his throat and trying again with a little more of his dignity this time. “Was that okay?” 

“Yes,” you blurted fervently, and before you could fix up the moment with something more, well, suitable, your big mouth ruined it for you. “But I think we’re holding up dinner. You should get changed, and I still need to find shoes.” 

You bit your tongue immediately after the words had been said, but it was too late—Zoro coughed, turning away from you. You panicked, and now it was your turn to grab his arm and tug you towards him. “Wait!” 

Zoro glanced down at you, perplexed, and then you leaned up to kiss him square on the mouth. He stumbled back, surprised, but adjusted quickly, hand going to cradle the back of your neck and pressing you right to him before you finally broke apart. 

“You should steal it,” he started. You stared up at him in question. “The dress, I mean. You should steal it.” 

“When am I ever going to need to wear this again?” you asked, perplexed. Zoro shrugged, fingers tugging at the edge of the dress's neckline. 

“Dunno. Just take it. She probably won’t even notice.” 

“You’re adorable,” you teased; Zoro wrinkled his nose but didn’t complain, opting instead to move away and pick up the clothes he still hadn’t changed into. “Go change. See you at dinner.” 

“Yeah,” Zoro said, his eyes not straying from your figure as you ducked out of the room. Before you could fully leave, though, Zoro grabbed your wrist, spinning you around towards him.

You didn’t have enough time to ask what he was doing when he leaned around to kiss you one final time, his hands cradling your face as your lips moved against each other. It was only a moment later that he stepped away, looking rather sheepish but not very apologetic as he finally let you go. 

“You look more than pretty,” he murmured, eyes sinking into yours, and your throat dried, any words you might’ve formed dying away within seconds. “You always look more than pretty. You look gorgeous.” 

“Thank you,” you whispered, and then he ducked back inside the closet to change. 

© halfvalid 2023

#opla zoro #opla roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #reader insert #x reader #opla #one piece live action #one piece netflix #opla zoro x reader #opla fanfiction #opla fanfic #one piece live action x reader #opla x reader #kiki writes!

[fastandcarlos]

The Littlest Surprise » Daniel Ricciardo

caption: hello im a new f1 content creator and would love some feedback if you enjoy my fics tysm 🩷

summary: you’ve not been seen at the paddock for a while and the fans are getting worried, little do they know the reason for your absence is about to make everyone’s dreams come true

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liked by schecoperez, georgerussell63 and 842,420 others

danielricciardo: always a pleasure to have the fam on my side, excited to show the little ones what uncle danny gets up to 🥺

49,302 comments

username1: is this yet another race y/n won’t be at this weekend??

username2: I cannot wait for the day that this man becomes a dad

username3: if y/n doesn’t hurry up and make him a dad…daniel i’m happy to offer my services 😊

maxverstappen1: how big is y/n/n now! she looks so grown up 🥺

danielricciardo: @/maxverstappen1 she’ll be 6 soon, where does the time go??

oscarpiastri: don’t forget your little adopted aussie nephew

landonorris: and your british nephew too!!

danielricciardo: @/oscarpiastri @/landonorris hey! i might be a bit older but not old enough to be your uncle thank you

username4: anyone else think something might be going on, daniel posting about his family without y/n there is strange

username5: @/username4 let’s not overthink this too much, y/n might just be busy

username4: @/username5 it’s been ages since we last saw her, you gotta admit it’s a bit sus

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liked by lewishamilton, alex_albon and 629,301 others

danielricciardo: another great weekend of racing, nice feeling to be back on the podium…man how I missed hearing that champagne pop 🏎️

38,402 comments

charles_leclerc: congrats brother, nice to be up there with you once again

username6: y/n not distracting you anymore to stop you getting on the podium??

username7: @/username6 wtf? why would you suggest such a thing?

carlossainz55: always knew you’d be back up there one day, long may it continue!

yukitsunoda0511: you gotta give me some tips bro, those manoeuvres were lethal today 🔥

pierregasly: danny ric just doing danny ric things

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liked by ynusername, charles_leclerc and 922,547 others

danielricciardo: hey team! just wanted to clear up some things after miami this weekend…me and y/n are absolutely fine, had some things going on that I promise we’ll explain soon ❤️❤️ for now tho, here’s an update on life recently ☁️✨

92,174 comments

ynusername: 🥺🥺🥺🥺

username8: I knew you guys would be okay, take as long as you need my two favourites!!

username9: a big screw you to those who doubted you…real fans love you guys

landonorris: I love you guys, here if you need anything brother ❤️

username10: hope whatever is going on clears up soon, we’re missing you guys around here🩷

lilymhe: tell y/n to gimme a call! ily guys ✨

visacashapprb: can’t wait to welcome y/n back into the paddock soon - see you for race week!

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liked by danielricciardo, iamrebeccad and 310,409 others

ynusername: it’s been a long few months, but we finally feel ready to share with you our happy news. pregnancy has been tough, I’d love to say it has treated me well, but it hasn’t. I cannot thank daniel enough for being by my side and helping me out whenever I’ve needed him…baby spam incoming ⛅️🍼

ps. each of us chose a picture to share, guess who chose what 🙄

28,461 comments

danielricciardo: words cannot begin to describe how proud I am of how brave you’ve been, the worst of it is over now my love, the countdown to baby ricciardo starts now

danielricciardo: ps my photo is way cooler than yours is

landonorris: omg I can’t believe you guys didn’t tell me, uncle Lando reporting for duty!

carlossainz55: the biggest congratulations you two, you’re going to be the best parents

carmenmmundt: so glad to hear y/n is doing better, may the rest of your pregnancy be a dream ✨

lilymhe: the strongest girl I know - so excited to see you become a mum 😍

username11: all my manifesting has paid off, baby ricciardo will be the luckiest

oscarpiastri: AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE!!

estebanocon: my spidey senses were spot on, I knew a baby was on the way!

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liked by danielricciardo, lance_stroll and 102,585 others

ynusername: life lately 💫 exhausted but loving all the little things (including daniel 😂)

17,492 comments

username12: y/n looks like she’s living the dream, mum life suits her well 🥺

danielricciardo: im definitely not a “little thing” how else did we end up like this?

landonorris: @/danielricciardo excuse me sir you are about to have a child, sort your humour out

maxverstappen1: glad to see you’re feeling more like yourself again y/n, brunch on me soon!

ynusername: @/maxverstappen1 yes - let’s not tell daniel #gatecrasher

danielricciardo: @/ynusername you know your comments are public…right?

username13: anyone else wishing they could brunch with y/n too??

lance_stroll: sending all the good book recs your way!

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liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 738,603 others

danielricciardo: babymooning 🍼 the smile says it all, so happy to have my girl back on her feet and feeling like herself again…making the last few memories just the two of us 🥺

83,500 comments

ynusername: thank you for the best couple of days and being my personal taxi driver

username14: look at his face - you can tell daniel is buzzing to be a dad

pierregasly: where was my invite?? I thought we were friends

carlossainz55: and mine!

georgerussell63: me too!

landonorris: looks like we were all forgotten!

visacashapprb: enjoy the break daniel! you and y/n absolutely deserve it 🏁🩷

username15: i speak for all your fans when i say keep the holiday photos coming pls

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liked by ynusername, georgerussell63 and 920,355 others

danielricciardo: mum and dad 🔥🥺

tagged: ynusername

58,429 comments

landonorris: adopt me pls, im less problematic than a baby

danielricciardo: @/landonorris debatable

lewishamilton: so glad to see you both so happy, good luck with everything

charles_leclerc: wow!! y/n looks insane (suppose you look alright too daniel!)

ynusername: mum and dad?? i can definitely get used to hearing that 🤩

alex_albon: it’s not fair how adorable you two are, this kid is hella lucky!!

username16: pls keep the baby spam coming, you guys are the sweetest 🍼💫

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liked by lilymhe, yukitsunoda0511 and 109,446 others

ynusername: the many faces of a man who has just remembered he’s just signed up for no sleep for the next 10 years 😂

tagged: danielricciardo

23,201 comments

danielricciardo: after all I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me? you just wait my love 🫢

ynusername: @/danielricciardo this was too good of an opportunity to miss

carlossainz55: make the most of that middle photo whilst you can danny

georgerussell63: you have NO idea how much I just laughed at this y/n 😂😂😂

schecoperez: speaking from experience, you could not be more correct y/n #dannynosleep

username17: embarrassing dad before even becoming a dad 😬

oscarpiastri: call me for anymore embarrassing daniel pics 😂

danielricciardo: @/oscarpiastri no one asked for you to show up here

username18: I just want you to be my mum and dad instead 😭

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liked by oscarpiastri, carmenmmundt and 113,999 others

ynusername: can you believe this man is really about to become a father?? 🤦🏻‍♀️

32,694 comments

charles_leclerc: sometimes i really do wonder what you see in him y/n

landonorris: the biggest clown known to man, still the world’s biggest kid 😂😂

danielricciardo: is that really how you want to talk about the father of your child? I thought you were supposed to love me

ynusername: @/danielricciardo i do, ily very much 🥰

username17: not y/n releasing all the humiliating photos of daniel now they’re about to be parents

username18: y/n’s clearing the phone album for baby spam and giving us daniel spam in return

logansargeant: more to the point, this is the guy you chose as the father of your child??

lilymhe: the two of you are perfect for each other y/n ❤️

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liked by ynusername, oscarpiastri and 1,403,407 others

danielricciardo: welcome to the world baby ricciardo 💕

after a lot of hardships and tricky times, y/n and i are beyond excited to share with you that our little one is here. everyone is safe, loved and doing well, my heart has never felt so full 🥺

tagged: ynusername

#f1 #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 reaction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 fic #formula 1 smau #formula 1 x you #formula 1 social media #formula 1 imagine #formula one #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader

[miley1442111]

admitting- b.floyd

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a/n: i got this idea from the comments of my last post with ranch! bob floyd so thank you to @nerdgirljen for planting this idea in my head!

summary: how bob finally gets what he wants

pairing: ranch! bob floyd x reader

warnings: SMUT 18+, breeding kink, slight praise and degradation kink, unprotected piv, talk of cum (i think that's it?)

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He’d had the dream again. He was a dad. You two had a baby girl and boy, twins. He was playing with them out in the field and you were by the picnic blanket, pregnant in one of your gorgeous sundresses. 

Fuck he wanted it so bad. 

He got out of your shared bed and walked downstairs, grabbing himself a cold cup of water. He chugged it down as his mind raced, thinking about your kids, how beautiful you’d look pregnant, how much he wanted to get you pregnant and-

Oh. Bob was hard. 

This had been an increasingly common issue in recent months, essentially since you two moved onto the ranch and got engaged. You both had chosen that you’d wait until after the wedding to start trying, since you wanted to have the wedding, a nice honeymoon, and a few months alone as newlyweds without kids or pregnancy to spoil your fun. 

If Bob had it his way? You’d already be pregnant. Since moving to Texas and with the summer was fast-approaching, you usually opt for sundresses, long skirts and breezy tops, or shorts with one of his light hoodies. Some days, you'd forego clothes all together and just walk around in a swimsuit or just your bra and panties.

It was driving him mad. Everyday, you looked so fucking good he could barely keep it in his pants. You two fucked like rabbits, in the morning, in the afternoon, and at night. But every time you did, the dreaded question of ‘do you have a condom?’ would dampen his fantasy. He didn’t mind, trust me, it’s just he knew how good you’d look with his kid inside of you, his marks on your neck, and his ring on your finger. 

“Are you thinking about it again?” you asked sleepily, leaning against him.

Bob’s face turned pink. He’d been caught, but how did you know? “Well baby… yeah.”

“I’m so excited,” you smiled and kissed his cheek. “It’s going to be amazing.”

Bob turned around from his position of leaning on the counter. His arms wrapped around you with his hands smoothing up your back and his lips finding yours in a sweet kiss. “Yeah, I can’t wait to be parents.”

Your head snapped up and looked at him quizzically. “What?”

Of course that wasn’t what you meant. He doesn’t exactly bring up his sexual fantasies that often, and when he does it’s usually just to do it raw, or from the back. He’s a pretty vanilla guy, but don’t get me wrong, it’s amazing. 

He stuttered his way through half a sentence before you cut him off. “I want to be a mom too.” 

He smiled at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your wedding was 4 weeks away, what’s the worst that could happen?

“And I want you to fuck a baby into me,” you whispered seductively and Bob’s brain short circuited. 

“Really?” he asked as you pulled his top up and over his head, kissing his neck. 

“Please Bob,” you begged and he knew he couldn’t say no. 

He grabbed your waist and turned the position around, now your back was against the counter and he was pulling off your clothes, leaving you bare in front of him. “Walkin’ around everyday in those damn sundresses, just waitin’ for me to fuck a baby into you, weren’t you?” he kissed up and down your neck as he groped you all over. 

You moaned at his words alone. When you two had sex, his accent came out a lot more, which was a definite turn-on for you. 

“I asked a question honey,” he stopped his kisses and delivered a soft smack to your ass. 

“Yes! Yes! Always for you! All for you!” you whined and he smirked. One thing no one would even truly understand was that, while he was the perfect gentleman outside of your bedroom (or kitchen counter, or bathtub, or couch, or stables, or car, or plane- yes it happened, but only once) he was down-right depraved in bed. His hands grabbed anywhere, his lips were all over your skin, and his dick? He was huge. 

“Good girl,” he cooed and you could feel yourself getting wetter. “My good girl, right?” You moaned out an incoherent agreement and his finger ran through your folds. “So wet for me, yeah?”

“All for you,” you whined. “Please I-I want it-” Your begging was lost in your throat as you felt his dick pushing in. The entire length of it was shocking, and the girth was something you’d never get used to. 

“Fuck,” he cursed. “You’re such a good girl, letting me take you like this, on the kitchen counter,” he cooed as he started to slowly move, wrapping his hand over your chin to turn you so he could watch you. His other hand landed on your hip, kneading the skin there. “You gonna’ let me fuck a baby into you?”

You nodded furiously as you moaned into his hand. “Please, I want it-”

“Be patient honey, you’ll get what you want,” he smirked. 

He picked up the pace as you screamed and moaned his name, something he’d never get enough of. Your voice as you screamed out in pleasure, as he was giving you that pleasure, he’d never stop loving it. 

“Bob! Bob, I-I’m close!” you whined. “Please don’t stop-”

“I’m not stoppin’ ‘till I put a baby in you,” he groaned and he felt your walls clamp down on him as you came, squirting all over his cock. He came with you. But he pushed himself and you through overstimulation and continued fucking you. His finger circled your over-sensitive clit, his cock was snapping in and out of you at a godly pace, and his cum shooting into you again, triggered another orgasm. 

He pulled out and plugged it with his finger, kissing you sweetly. “I don’t want you to waste any of it, yeah?”

You just nodded your head, to fucked out to even respond. 

“Good girl,” he smiled. “You’re going to be such a pretty momma,” he smirked as he slowly pumped his fingers into you, fucking his cum deeper into you. You leaned against the counter as he fingered you to another orgasm, spewing lines like “my perfect girl, ye’ gonna give me a baby?” and “Gonna look so beautiful pregnant with my kids,” and your personal favourite; “God you’re my whore, lettin’ me come inside like that.”

You came a lot that night. 

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He carried you back up to bed, dressed, and cleaned you up, then planted a soft kiss on your forehead as you fell asleep on his chest. 

Maybe he should admit his sexual fantasies more often. 

And maybe he should start painting the nursery.

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navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

topgun masterlist :) (requests open!)

#robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd imagine #robert floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x you #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun 1986 #top gun imagine #top gun hangman #pete maverick mitchell

[nervousimposter]

Eddie started finding notes in his locker his sophomore year. The first couple of them, he just tossed without reading. He didn’t need to read what those asshole bullies wanted to say about him. But curiosity won out after two weeks of constant notes and he finally opened one. It was the single most impactful thing he’d ever read. 

I think you’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. 

He kept that note. And every other note he got from that point on. If anyone were to ask Eddie what he regretted most in his life, it would be those two weeks of notes he tossed without reading. Ten slips of paper with unknown writing that he wishes he could get back. Add them to his ‘mystery boys notes’ box. And he was a mystery, the note writer. Anonymous. Unknown. Impossible to catch. 

Eddie held out for a month. A whole month before he decided to stage a stake out. He watched his locker like a hawk. In between classes, during classes, lunch, after school and even one absolutely horrible day where he came in an hour before school started. But the mystery boy had to be invisible. He never saw anyone approach his locker but his daily note was always there. And Eddie; poor, unfortunate, infatuated Eddie dealt with mystery boys’ notes from ‘82 to ‘85. Four agonizing years of the most heart-warming, loving notes. 

I wish I was as brave as you.

Did you change your shampoo? Your hair looked so soft today.

God, your eyes have to be the biggest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen. So pretty.

I like how long your hair is getting. 

Saw you walking down the hall today and I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more. 

They started cute. Compliments here and there, even a doodle every once in a while. Hearts and smiley faces. But as the months and years went by, the mystery boy got deeper. Confessions and secrets. 

I think if I had a different dad, we would’ve been best friends.

Can you fall in love with someone you’ve never talked to?

I dream about us. 

I’m a boy. I’m sorry.

I want to hold your hand. Those rings are something else. 

I saw you trying to catch me. Adorable.

I wish I could take you on a date. Not give a shit what my dad would say or what people would think. 

I wish I could be brave enough to talk to you. 

You’re still the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.

I’m graduating this year. I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you. I think I’m going to try to figure out a way to keep dropping these off next year. I don’t want you to forget about me.

The notes didn’t continue when the school year started. Eddie was embarrassed to admit he cried that first night. He wasn’t sure how the mystery boy was going to be able to get the notes to him but he fully believed it was going to happen. He went five weeks with no daily note in his locker. And then, it showed up on a Monday. He almost missed it, the tiny slip of paper. 

Sorry this took so long. Had to figure out how I was going to sneak these in here. I don’t think I’ll be able to call you pretty every day of the week this time around but I’m going to try my best! 

And mystery boy was right. The notes were always there on Monday. Just Monday. But Eddie didn’t complain. One note a week after five weeks of nothing almost had his heart bursting from his chest. It also narrowed down his search. Sort of. Mystery boy was either coming in on those Mondays to drop off the note, sneaking in on the weekends when the school was empty OR after school on Fridays. And look, he’s failed to graduate high school two times in a row now but he wasn’t stupid. Did it take him three months after the notes to start again for him to realize who it was? Yes but to be fair, for two of those months it was Eddie wallowing in denial. 

Five weeks into school was when he restarted Hellfire. Three weeks before that was when he brought in those new little freshman sheepies. The same freshman sheepies that got picked up by Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington who graduated last year. Steve Harrington who he catches staring at him from his beemer in the parking lot every Friday night before he takes the kiddies home. Steve who he categorizes as someone who is so far out of his league that it just couldn’t be him. But it’s been three months and there isn’t any other former Hawkins high student running around in or near the school. And now that Eddie’s almost certain Steve has been mystery boy these past few years, he can’t wait. He’s been in love with a figure made out of slips of paper for four years and his nonexistent patience has truly run thin.  

He calls for a break 15 minutes before they normally end their sessions. Tells the boys he needs to run to the bathroom and almost sprints out the door. His locker sits in the hallway just around the corner of the drama room. The door closing shut echos through the empty hallways, alongside the squeaks coming from his shoes as he hustles towards his locker. He freezes as soon as he turns the corner. 

Steve probably only had 30 seconds after hearing the door open and shut to process what he was going to do. He could’ve run or hid, maybe pretend like he just needed the bathroom while he waited. But Eddie watched him pause as they made eye contact instead. Watched as Steve looked him up and down. Watched him relax and lean back against the lockers behind him with a lazy smirk. His arm slowly moved up and Eddie could see a slip of paper held between his fingers. Steve didn’t break eye contact with him at all as he proceeded to shove the paper between the vents of his locker. They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Staring. Broken when Steve pushed himself off the wall and walked towards him. He didn’t stop. Side stepped around Eddie before they could collide. A faint brush of his fingers along the back of his hand as he walked past him. And Eddie just watched him pass. Just like he watched him slip that note in his locker, he watched Steve walk back down the hall and out the front doors.

He waited only five seconds after the doors closed behind Steve before he jogged over to his locker. Grabbed the note and shoved it into his pocket before running back over to the drama room. Told the guys that they stopped at a decent spot and would meet again next Friday. Walked with them to the parking lot to head home. To catch a glimpse of Steve. And there he was, sitting in his beemer, staring again. This time though, Eddie smiled at him. He smiled at him and pulled the note out of his pocket. Opened it right there in the parking lot while he stared back at Steve. It only took him a few seconds to glance down to read. And as soon as he did, he threw his head back and laughed. Cackled really. He looked back at the beemer and saw Steve with the widest grin. Watched him lift his fingers off the steering wheel and wiggle them at him before he started pulling out of the lot. He looked back down at the note in his hand and chuckled again. Who knew Steve Harrington knew DnD well enough to draw a perfect rendition of an eight sided dice?

Wanna go on a d8? - Steve Harrington xxx-xxx-xxxx

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie fic

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 6

in which spencer reid and inexperienced!fem reader are finally honest with each other. complete with tears and more than a few make-up kisses.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: angst but mostly fluff, i think this qualifies as hurt/comfort, HHEHHEHHEH, lots of kissing, so cheesy, you jokingly imply he's a slut, i need him expeditiously a/n: thank you guys for being patient with me!! ilysm!! i edited this until i hated it but i hope it's satisfactory for YOU guys..... as always please please let me know what you think!! and i already started the next part hehehe

The car ride is the worst of your life. 

Neither of you speak. 

And you find yourself wishing, pleading to god that one of you will say something to fix this—but each minute ticks by and the streets get familiar and a quiet song ends and you realize you were silly to ever think a twenty minute car ride would change anything. 

Spencer was the luckiest you’d ever been and your relationship is floating away like a balloon you forgot to hold on to—nothing more than a red dot lost to the vast blue. 

Maybe for him it’s easier. You’re pretty sure it is, as you risk one or two glances at his unreadable profile that turn into lingering, obsessive looks because you’re panicking and realizing you’ll maybe never see him this close again. It’s funny and terrible how quickly you’re remembering what it was like to see him at the coffee shop for the first time—how he was nothing but a beautiful stranger, completely unknown to you and worlds away. Now you’ve had him, sort of, and you’re turning into the girl who could never have him all over again. 

When he turns onto your street reality begins to sink in. Your heart is a short fuse inside your chest as he pulls into a spot and parks the car. The rumble of the engine cuts. The headlights stay on. 

For a moment, everything is quiet. You wish you could insert your own reality into the silence—one where you’re simply enjoying each other’s company and there’s no sense of impending doom to take your breath away. 

“Do you want to talk?” Spencer asks, looking pointedly ahead where the lights shine off the back of some other person’s car. A wayward moth dips and swirls into the high beams. You watch Spencer track it with his eyes. 

“I’m not sure what to say,” you admit quietly. The weight of everything you’d like to say sits in your stomach like lead, too heavy to divulge. It’s only been a few weeks of having to carry the truth around with you and your muscles are already fatiguing. The idea of carrying it around indefinitely makes your eyes sting. You’re already exhausted. 

Maybe a stronger person would find that last bit of energy to make a final push, to save the relationship just before it falls apart. 

But you never claimed to be strong.

Deep down, you must’ve known you weren’t ready for a real relationship. You can’t handle all of this pretending to be okay with things that hurt. Even if that's the grown-up thing to do.

“I tried. I really did, I’m sorry—I’m—”

Before you can get the words out your throat tightens around them and you bury your face in your hands. 

The sound of his seatbelt unlocking and whirring back surprises you—but you’re even more surprised when he undoes yours. Still, you move your arm so it can snap back into place and then he’s pulling you into him. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, one hand on the back of your head as you lean over the small gap between the seats, unable to stop yourself from shedding more tears. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry. 

For not loving you?

If it’s not your fault he doesn’t love you back—then whose fault is it? Who’ll take the fall?

But still, he’s holding you so carefully, like you’re made of porcelain. Something to be protected. Or at the very least, something to be mourned even after it’s in pieces. 

As you lean against him, lulled by the slow in and out of his breath, the inverse of yours, and the way he slips his thumb over the back of your hair in silence for a few minutes—you wonder what’s missing. Why he’s not satisfied. 

“I don’t understand you.”

The words come out flat, muffled by his coat, garbled with leftover tears. 

“What was that?” Spencer asks gently, still playing with your hair. You sniffle, adjusting your head so your cheek is to his shoulder and your lips are no longer smushed. 

“I just… I want you to explain it to me.”

“Explain what?”

You sit up just enough to meet his eyes. The movement seems to take him by surprise, but he keeps his hands on you—one slipping to your cheek and the other still loyal to your back. He brushes his fingers over the delicate skin beneath your eye and you cover them with your own in an effort to get him to stop treating you so kindly. But even now, when you’re mad at him for being so gentle in the way that he hurts you, you can’t help but seek the familiar callus on the side of his trigger finger. It’s an odd thing to anticipate missing, but you’ll miss all of him. You can’t imagine holding a hand without that familiar anomaly—a cairn to show you where he’s been and who you’re holding. 

He curls his warm hand around yours and you hold your joined fist out for him in emphasis, speaking louder than either of you were prepared for. 

“This! You! I understand that we don’t feel the same way about each other and maybe I can’t change that. But then you do this and I don’t understand why. I don’t understand why this isn’t enough for you, because it’s enough for me, and I just—I don’t know what else I can give you. I don’t know what else there is. I don’t understand why I’m not... enough.” The tears are back and flowing freely, but you forge breathlessly ahead, because you’ve finally found a way to be honest and you’re not going to stop now. Spencer is frowning, lips parted and clearly confused or shocked or something, but you continue your confessional before he has the chance to interrupt. “I want to be enough, but you didn’t even give me the chance, and I don’t think it’s fair that we’re breaking up when you didn’t let me try. Maybe if you just told me, if you explained what’s missing I could fix it and you could love me back, and—please. I just want to try. Please, Spencer.”

A car engine revs somewhere far away, echoing down the street. It reverberates for several seconds, unimpeded by any other noise. Any word, any breath. 

His voice is thin when he responds a moment later, still studying your face with a kind of scrutiny that is so indecipherable you don’t know how you expect him to respond. 

“Love you back?”

You blink. 

Your stomach drops. 

For all that you’d revealed, for all that you’d willingly humiliated yourself with your pathetic supplication—you’d meant to keep that four letter word to yourself. 

What a way to make an exit from your relationship. 

Spencer is still looking at you, keeping you pinned to your seat, and as much as you wish it wasn’t the case he’s not going to let you off the hook this time. He’s going to demand an answer, and you have a 0% chance of bursting into mist before you have to provide an explanation, so you have no choice but to say something. 

What, exactly, you’re going to say—you don’t know. 

“I didn’t…”

“You didn’t mean it.”

The response comes so quickly, sharp as a slap, that you jump back slightly, a deep frown twisting your brow. Spencer makes no effort to keep his hand in yours as you slip from his grasp. 

“That’s not what I was—”

“Just say what you mean.” Silence. “Tell me.”

It’s like he’s got an ice pick to your chest. It’s like he wants you to humiliate yourself even further, to punish you for your messy indiscretions. 

“Spencer…”

It’s a warning. You’re giving him a chance to stop this before he hurts you sadistically. Before he becomes unrecognizable. 

He swallows. 

“Please.” And then, a second later, when you’re still trying to process the quiet pain in his voice and suddenly faced with the unexpected question of who is hurting who, “please, just… tell me if you meant it.”

For the first time tonight, you notice how exhausted he looks. Slightly gaunt, even paler than usual. Shadows pool deeper in the hollows of his face. His eyes look glossy, dark crescents below awaiting to catch tears you realize you’ve never seen fall. The tonal shift has you so disoriented, so out of your body like you’re seeing yourself in his own injuries—the truth becomes the only humane answer. Even if it hurts you.

“Yes. I meant it. You know I mean it.”

“I don’t know that,” he says on a shaky exhale. “How would I know that?”

And he’s got the ice pick back at your sternum. It’s tipped in poison. The mallet trembles in the air. So does your voice. 

“You told me you didn’t feel the same. You said it was new for me and different and I was going to make things complicated and you treated me like I was a stupid kid, and—and it doesn’t even matter. This was dumb. I’m sorry I said anything, I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing. I just.. I can’t do this.”

You’re about to open the door, every muscle tense as you wonder what the hell is wrong with you. What reduced you to the weepy, pathetic girl, begging a boy to love her despite knowing it doesn’t work like that—the same girl you’ve looked down your nose at in every film and TV show and in every high school and college hallway since you learned what self-superiority meant. Before you knew exactly what it felt like to be her. 

“Wait.”

He says your name.  

And of course you pause. 

You want a reason to stay. If you had more self-respect, you wouldn’t. But you know you’ll give him as many chances to give you an excuse as he’s willing to take. You knew that before your fingers met the metal of the door handle. 

“Just—hold on a second. Can you look at me?” 

You sniffle and wipe your eyes with the heel of your palm before turning around to face him once more. You wonder if anyone will ever have the kind of power he has over you ever again. 

The despair leaves only wisps of itself on his face—mostly he looks like he’s thinking hard about something. It’s jarring. 

“You’re talking about our phone call on Sunday, right?”

You nod petulantly with a quick teary eye-roll because obviously that’s what you’re talking about. 

Something lights in his own dark eyes as he inhales, parts his lips as if to speak, and stops himself again. Like he’s got news that he’s not sure how to break. 

“The things I said, on that call… I wasn’t talking… about you.”

Your insides feel like tangled yarn as you stare at him uncomprehendingly. 

“I mean, I was. I was talking about us. But not in the way you think, it was—” he stops, rubbing his eyes and taking a frazzled breath. “I know what it’s like to be the one who cares more. I have to assume that I’m the one who cares more because when I don’t, I ruin things. And with you, I felt like—the stakes were so high, and I thought it’d be safer for me to not say anything until I knew you felt the same. But I know that’s not fair to you so I tried to tell you over the phone that if you didn’t feel the same way it was okay. And now I’m—I’m realizing the way I phrased it was incredibly unclear and misleading, and somehow I fucked it up in a completely new way. But I wasn’t referring to you. I just didn’t want you to feel stuck with someone who can’t give you casual when you have so much ahead of you. I had no idea you felt that way about me. And I am so, so sorry that I hurt you. I never meant for that to happen.”

You blink. 

And for some reason, begin sobbing. 

Spencer freezes for a moment, then tells you to stay there and you barely have the capacity to wonder what he means as you hear his own door opening then slamming shut again. A moment later he’s on the passenger side, opening your door and leaning in. 

“Hey,” he whispers, gently pulling your hands from your face and making you turn your head to look at him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But that’s good news, right? Why all the tears, lovely? What’s wrong? Please talk to me.”

You take a shuddering breath. 

“This is all my fault, I ruined everything because I was too scared to tell you before and now—and now—”

Stroking your cheeks to wipe away the tears is a futile effort because they just keep coming, but Spencer does it anyway, and he speaks so kindly, so evenly it somehow hurts deeper. 

You were terrible to him. And he had been prepared to accept that. He thought you didn’t love him, and he was still willing to be the subject of all your cryptic frostiness and inexplicable cruelty. 

“It is not your fault. You didn’t ruin anything. I’m still right here. We’re okay.”

“But we’re breaking up, and—and I was so mean to you. That’s not okay, Spencer.”

You finally look at him. He’s close, eyes warm and wide as he looks directly into your own teary gaze, shaking his head earnestly. 

“You were confused, honey. So was I. It was just a misunderstanding. But… I know I was unkind to you. I cannot express how sorry I am for that, and the last thing I want is for us to break up, but if you think that’s what’s best, I’ll… I’ll understand.”

His voice is dangerously thin by the end, strained with impending tears of his own. But he’s eternally kind—backlit by the streetlamps and beautiful like an angel.  Whatever you want, he’ll give you. Even if it’s this. 

“I don’t want that. I don’t.” You sigh, closing your eyes briefly against the world as you realize the impending breakup had been a delusion all along. That you were going to let your insecurities and some sick pride end the relationship for you. All that despair had been for nothing. Or—maybe not nothing. You realize he still hasn’t said it back. But you won’t be a coward. It’s not worth losing him. You open your eyes.  “I just—I want us to be on the same page. And if you don’t love me yet or if you don’t wanna say it, or if you can’t, I get it—it’s okay, but if you don’t could you maybe just tell me? So that I’ll know—”

Before you can process it Spencer is leaning in, head angled to accommodate you, pressing his lips to yours so softly your breath catches and your stomach flips. Maybe softer than he ever has before, and it’s like taking a deep breath after holding it through a dark tunnel. You exhale a tentatively soft sigh against him, releasing air you don't have along with the fraught tension in most of your body. All too quickly he’s pulling away, hands still cupping your cheeks and thumbs stroking over your skin. When he speaks it’s not quite a whisper, but secret-soft. 

“How could I not be so in love with you?” 

Suddenly you can feel the world turning underneath you. Or maybe you’re just dizzy from lack of oxygen. Either way it feels good. A drop of warmth makes a splash in your stomach and slowly spreads through every vein and capillary until you’re sure you’re glowing gold. 

“Really?”

“Of course really. I’m—” he takes a breath of his own, and you realize how difficult this must be after what happened the last time he professed his love for a girl. Your chest aches for him. His voice is low and solicitous, but it wavers slightly. “I should have told you sooner. I wanted to, but I was worried—I was worried the way I felt for you was… too much. I am so in love with you it scares me. I still don’t know what to say or how to act around you. When I’m gone, sometimes I imagine quitting my job, just so I can come home and see you sooner. When I have a gun in my hands, I start thinking about all the things I would do to keep you safe, or—or just because you asked me to. And if what you wanted was for me to leave you alone, I would have done that. If you wanted me to drop everything and everyone to be with you I would have done that. And I know you’d never ask those things of me. But any of them, I’d do in a heartbeat. Which is… it’s a little scary, huh?”

The final sentence is a nervous self-effacing chuckle, which you can match in sound only—one breathy attempt at a laugh from your slackened jaw. 

When that’s the only response you can manage, he clears his throat. 

“Too honest?”

You shake your head as if in a fog. 

“No. Not too honest. But I’m just… I’m trying not to cry again.”

He smooths over your hair fondly. His own eyes are shiny and full of wonder as he studies you for a short while, like you're doing something much more awe-inspiring than sniffling in the passenger seat of his car. Then one hand is dropped to your shoulder and the other braced against your seat back. Finally, he pulls back to a more reasonable distance with a shaky sigh. It’s a sound of relief. You want to hug him, and all the past hims who have ever been hurt by anyone. 

“You, um—you need to rehydrate. Do you have anything that will rebalance your electrolytes? If you don’t I can go to the store—”

“You don’t need to do that,” you assure him with a small, watery laugh, loosely grabbing the wrist that brushes your shoulder. 

“But you need to take care of yourself. And I know you haven’t been drinking enough water because you never do.”

There’s a lingering overwrought shakiness to his voice, but it’s still the most relaxed he’s sounded since he came home, and you realize that the worst is behind you. The storm that you’d been so sure you couldn’t weather is somehow clearing up. 

“I can’t believe we almost just broke up.”

He hangs his head, dropping it to the curve of your neck and groaning. 

“Don’t say that. Let’s not think about that right now. Just—” when he raises his head again, and shakes it slightly to get his hair out of his eyes, they’ve cleared, like he’s on a mission to change the subject. “Let’s go upstairs. Will you let me take care of you?”

You give him an exaggerated nod, still sniffing, and the smile that grows on his face is like seeing the sun rise above the ocean. You love his smile. You love him. 

Spencer kisses you on the cheek. 

“Okay. Let me lock the car and then we can go up.”

As soon as you get into your apartment and turn on the light Spencer goes to the kitchen. It’s a small unit, but antique and nice enough, though you prefer Spencer’s. There’s still some tension as you observe him filling a glass with water, kicking your boots off by the door—but not necessarily the bad kind. You’re not sure exactly what it is. 

“Where are you going?” He asks as you pass the kitchen area to turn on a standing lamp in the opposite corner of the room. 

“I don’t like the big light.” A warm glow emanates through stained glass as you flick it on. 

“I know that. I just didn’t realize it was a higher priority than your wellbeing.” His tone is sardonic but he’s already switching off the overhead lighting for you. You give him a wry smirk as you finally approach and take the proffered glass from his waiting hand. 

“Ambience over everything, baby.”

His brows pinch at the cavalier sentiment—you never call him baby, so you're sure he knows it’s a joke—and he shakes his head with a humorous little huff of air through his nose, watching as you drink deeply. Your hand is shaking. Spencer notices and covers it with both of his, taking the half empty glass with one and grabbing your hand with the other. 

“Adrenaline,” he murmurs, kissing your knuckles. “It’ll go away soon. Did you get enough?”

You nod, smiling small but genuinely. Emotionally exhausted or not, you’re happy. 

Spencer strays, not far, to set the glass on the counter. Then he turns to face you, bracing his palms on the ledge and just watching you for a moment with the kind of smile that makes you nervous in the best way.

He beckons you to him with nothing more than a quick tilt of his head, and you shuffle across the floor in your socks til you’re toe to toe. Without your shoes on, he feels much taller. Still he just watches you for a moment—not that you mind. Your view isn’t half-bad. The faint warm glow from the lamp casts shadows over his face, highlighting all the perfect angles, deep brown eyes framed by dark lashes, and lips that still make you feel like a girl with a crush when you look at him. His hair is getting long. You’re unreasonably glad you still get to look at him like this. 

“Hi,” you whisper—something about the intimate dark of the room feels like a place for secrets. 

“Hi, pretty.” Spencer tucks hair behind your ear, eyes soft wherever they focus on your face like if he even looks at you too sharply you might break. “Have I told you how much I missed you while I was gone?”

He knows he hasn’t.

“Even when I was being a heinous bitch?”

Spencer laughs and it makes you smile too. The way his smile changes the landscape of his whole face will never feel any less like observing a natural phenomenon. It’s unfair how beautiful he is, and how you’re keeping him all to yourself in the dark on the fourth floor of an apartment building in DC. 

“Even then. Not sure that’s the wording I would have used.”

“I missed you too,” you admit softly. 

He maps your face with wandering eyes like he’s done a hundred times. Vaguely you wonder if he sees the same kind of beauty in you that you see in him. If he sees landmarks in your flaws and stars beyond the observable universe in your eyes. 

Spencer sweeps your hair over your shoulder, fingertips grazing your neck. 

“Can I kiss you?” He murmurs. 

Butterflies fill your stomach and you nod shyly, unsure of what would come out if you tried to speak.

His free hand settles on your lower back and brings you into him until you’re chest to chest. With his other on your jaw, he bows his head, and you angle yours up, allowing your eyes to flutter shut. 

Spencer kisses you so gently it aches in your chest, still cupping your face and stroking your cheek. You can’t help wrapping your arms around his middle—before he’s pulling away far too soon. 

And he’s laughing. 

“What were you drinking?”

You frown, flustered and trying to remember a time before his lips were on yours.

“Water.”

“Before that, baby. At the bar.”

You think back even further, head muddled even more by the endearment so that it takes you a moment to recall. 

“A Shirley Temple. Derek brought it to me. Why? Is that bad?”

“No,” he says, still smiling as his lips brush yours. “You’re perfect. You taste like candy. It’s cute.”

Oh. You feel warm as he presses another kiss to your lips—and this time you insist on him staying awhile. He’s happy to oblige. 

Spencer kisses you soft and careful at first, and then deeper, but still so slow, until you can’t help the way you’re bunching the fabric of his shirt between your fingers and rising on your toes to try and get impossibly closer. He kisses you the way you’ve been needing him to since he left, long and unhurried and sweet—and takes everything you give him, siphoning away all your leftover turmoil and angst until you’re weightless. You’re deprived of oxygen, you’re dizzy, and you don’t care at all. 

“I love you,” you breathe against him before he captures your lips again with a hum that flips your stomach, his hand rubbing over your hip. 

“Say it again,” he mutters against your mouth a second later, brushing hair away from your face. 

It comes out a little mumbled this time between kisses, but it comes out all the same. 

“Love you.”

He sighs into you—relief that mirrors your own. 

“I love you.”

It seems like the kind of thing that will never stop sounding perfect from his lips. 

A final deep kiss shortens into a series of smaller ones, and then he’s pulling away slowly, brushing the corner of your mouth affectionately. 

Both of you require a few deep breaths—a moment to let your sparkling eyes wildly chart each familiar curve and convex and shade and shadow of the other’s face—before either of you can speak. Spencer breaks the silence first. 

“I’m sorry.”

You frown, stirred from your brainless bliss by his unexpected apology. 

“For what?”

The fiery glow in his eyes dampens slightly. 

“For what I said at the bar.”

Oh.

That.

It feels like a lifetime away—memories seen through someone else’s eyes. Words like blows from a less familiar mouth. 

You look away. For a while, you’d forgotten about that. Ideally he wouldn’t have reminded you. 

At least he doesn’t make you look at him. He just strokes your hair, watching you examine the tiled counter. His voice is soft and soothing, like he’s appealing to a scared rabbit. Or maybe something angrier and with more teeth. 

“You’re not immature, or badly behaved, or thoughtless. I was having an emotional reaction, I got defensive, and I lashed out. It was unfair and unkind of me to throw those things back in your face when I know how much trust it takes for you to be vulnerable with me. There’s nothing I can say or do that will adequately make up for that, but I want you to understand that I didn’t say any of it because it was the truth. I said it because I didn’t understand how you were feeling and I was hurt. I was insecure and I acted juvenile. I am so, so sorry, honey. You don’t have to forgive me, but you do need to know that none of it is true.”

Once you bite your lip long enough to be sure you won’t cry again, you speak. 

“It’s okay,” you insist with a cheerfulness as natural as hard plastic, something in your chest twinging. “I was mean too. Like you said, we were both confused.”

“It is not. I made you cry.”

Sometimes you forget that he’s not like other people. He’ll never accept anything less than the barest truth. So you look back up at him and speak with a level of honesty that you hope satisfies him. 

“I forgive you. You didn’t mean it. And I have insurance because Derek said he and Emily would kick your ass if you’re mean to me again.”

You hear the sad humor in his voice. His hand runs up and down your back. 

“If I’m ever mean to you again, I personally invite you to kick my ass. And then let Derek and Emily have their turn.” He thumbs at your cheek, studying you in silence for a moment. “I can’t tell you how much I wish I could take it back.”

You stand up a little straighter. Spencer tracks you with his eyes, noting the way you smile slightly. 

“You’ll find a way to make it up to me.”

“I’ll do anything for you,” he admits, barely a whisper and the truth of it so heavy you can feel it too. 

But for tonight you can’t contend with more weight. 

“You know what you could do right now?”

The mischief in your tone is obvious, and he hesitates, like he’s not sure he wants to let you move on from this so quickly. But eventually he plays along, pressing his thumb into the dip of your back and speaks lowly, just as you’d hoped he would. 

“What’s that?”

You smile slyly. 

“You could kiss me again.”

“Hm… I don’t know, three times in one night? Sounds a little excessive.”

“Do you want to be forgiven or not?” You huff. He smiles lazily, already dipping his head to press his lips to yours. 

“I thought I was already forgiven.”

“Apologies can be retracted.”

“Ah.” His next words are mumbled as his lips ghost yours. “Well we wouldn’t want that.”

Spencer puts you out of your misery, not bothering to warm you up to it before he’s kissing you with a deep need. It’s still languid, and not hungry, exactly—it’s more like an aching, mind-numbing thirst. It’s all-consuming, overwhelming to have all of his burning focus pinpointed on you like this. Both hands come to cup your face and you wonder if he wants you in ways that he doesn’t entirely understand, just as you want him. You wonder if anything could possibly sate this desire to possess him completely and for him to possess you, to trade corporeal forms—or if it’s just something you’ll have to live with like a metaphysical itch you can’t scratch. As he forces you to tip your head back for him, using his height to his advantage, breathing deeply against you and attempting to push himself impossibly closer, you begin to think he understands exactly how you feel. 

As soon as you’d sensed he wanted it, your lips had parted for him. He knows he could have any part of you. He knows how eager you are to give yourself to him. You’ve done everything to prove it, and yet you’ve never needed him quite like you do ask he pushes off the counter and slowly backs you against the wall, protecting your head with a hand as the paintings rattle ever so slightly. You gasp into his mouth and he kisses you greedier still, but his hands don’t stray from your cheeks. 

Not until, that is, you hook your right leg around his left, and he catches it, fingers wrapping under the bend of your knee. 

Never in your life have you regretted picking jeans rather than a skirt more than you do right now. 

But to your disappointment, Spencer slows down to a halt—pulling his lips from yours like they’d been stuck by molasses until he’s far enough away to study you wildly, panting just as you are. His hair hangs over his smoldering eyes. He’s disheveled. It’s sexy. 

“What?” You whisper, voice surprisingly hoarse.

He looses a dry, abashed laugh. The flush he’s sporting is incredibly charming. 

“I’m supposed to be playing nice with you.”

Spencer says it like it’s a mild hindrance. Something frissons in your core. You smile a little wider as you continue to catch your breath, which seems to please him. 

“Playing nice?”

“Being gentle. I’m not supposed to push my favorite things against walls when they’re delicate.”

Your face heats at the way he speaks of you—if it weren’t Spencer, if you didn’t know he really doesn’t think of you as an object, you’d be pissed. But instead all you can think about is how good it feels when he calls you his. 

“According to who?”

His eyes dart between yours and then down to your lips several times before he averts them to the wall beside you with an intensity that could burn holes through the plaster. Is that how he looks at you?

“According to me. I think… god, you're going to hate me for this. But I think I need you to kick me out.”

You drop your leg at the same time as you do your heart. 

“What?”

“I know,” he says, over-apologetically, “I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let that escalate. But we can’t… do anything tonight.” Before you can protest, he rushes to explain himself. “It’s just that it’s been a long day. It’s been a long week, actually, and I doubt either of us have slept very much, and I think you’re really drained, and probably not thinking super clearly. I don’t think you’re in the best place for decision making.”

You look pointedly down to where he still has you pressed to the wall. 

“I think I’m in a great place.”

At that he steps back, but lets his hands find yours and pulls you away from the wall—just not quite as close as before. His nose bumps against yours as he speaks low and sweet. 

“I understand that you want me to stay right now. But it’s not a good idea to associate fighting with physical pleasure. That can set some really dangerous patterns.”

“We’re not fighting,” you plead, matching his tone as you look up at him with big eyes. His fingers lace with yours. 

“You’re right. Maybe fighting was the wrong word. But we had some pretty intense conversations today, didn’t we?”

Reluctantly you nod. 

“Right,” he agrees. “Same premise. We need to be able to have those conversations without getting distracted.”

In a last ditch attempt to get him to change his mind, you give him your best approximation of the imploring, wide-eyed gaze he sometimes uses on you. Something not entirely smile and not entirely smirk twists the corners of his mouth. When he ducks down to kiss you quickly, you reciprocate, but you lack the enthusiasm of earlier. 

“Hey.” 

“Hm,” you respond, dejectedly. 

“Don’t get all grumpy because I don’t put out.”

That puts a disgruntled little smile on your face as he probably knew it would. 

“I guess you just gave it up easy to all those other women.”

He grabs your chin and gives you a final peck. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never been with other women.”

“Mhm,” you grumble good-naturedly, pushing away from him and going to the door to undo the deadbolt. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

“Wow. I really must have overstayed my welcome if that’s the goodbye I get.”

You turn back around, brows raised. 

“Oh, I was prepared to be very welcoming. This is your doing.”

“Uh-huh. Come here.”

Happily you skitter back across the few feet of wooden flooring and wrap your arms tightly around him one more time, pressing your cheek to his chest. He’s ready, winding his arms over yours and rubbing your back. It’s eerily similar, you realize as he presses his face into the concave of your shoulder, to when he’d left on that most recent case. 

But at the same time—everything’s different. 

And you won’t make the same mistake twice. 

“Hey,” you smile, resting your head on his shoulder. Spencer pulls back to look at you, a similar grin on his face. 

“Hey what?”

“I remembered what I was gonna say.”

The grin widens. He knows exactly what you’re talking about. 

“Tell me.”

“I was going to tell you that I love you. And—I hope you’re not one of those people who’s uncomfortable being told that often. Because if that’s the case I’m really going to annoy you.”

“I’m not that kind of person,” he assures. “Tell me as often as you can.”

“But you should say it back. It’s more polite that way.”

“I love you,” he murmurs, in a voice more serious than your teasing tones had been but still soft and sweet around the edges. “You know, people talk about love as if it’s completely irrational and illogical. But with you… I think the world actually makes more sense than it used to. I understand things I never did before. You’ve taught me a lot.”

It’s like a lightshow in your stomach. You wonder if he has any idea the effect his casual musings have on you.

“You already knew everything.”

“Not everything,” Spencer whispers. “Not about the things that matter.”

And you’re fresh out of teases. All you can do is look up at him with big eyes again, in awe of the fact that you get to keep him after all. 

“Will you text me when you get home?” You request, voice reverent in the wake of an admission you could never hope to top. 

“I will. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nod, because it doesn’t even matter if you had other plans tomorrow. They’re as good as cancelled. 

Spencer kisses your cheek, and you get the sense that things are still being left unfinished. There’s an unresolved tension that you can’t shake, even after all the apologies and kisses and sweet words. Still, he made a point with his talk about not mixing argument with pleasure, and you’d like to respect those wishes because you respect him—even if every atom of your being shakes with desire to keep him locked in your bedroom, hidden away from the world together, for as long as you can possibly manage. 

Eventually, you loosen your hold, and you let him go. He lingers at the door, hands in his pockets, just watching you and mirroring your small smile as you hold onto the counter with an iron grip to keep yourself in check. After he finally peels his gaze away from yours and silently closes the door behind him, you stand there, staring at the wood for at least a minute.

Once you manage to shake yourself from your revery with a deep breath, you grab your glass from earlier and stand in front of the sink, watching it fill with a white jet of water. It’d be a shame to admit it to him, but maybe Spencer is right. Maybe you do need time to emotionally digest today. After all—that was technically your first argument. It seems to have left you sort of wound up. Not in a bad way, per se—maybe you just need to take a shower, let the hot water roll over your shoulders and wash away the frenetic energy that clings to you. 

Still, something tells you that you won’t be getting much sleep tonight, even if you do take the world’s longest shower. You’re simply too high-strung. You wonder if having Spencer here would fix that or make it worse. But ultimately, he’d made the call that it was a bad idea for him to stay, and you’re generally inclined to trust his judgement. 

The thought makes you laugh into your cup as you drink. Even after the debacle that was the past week, you trust him to know what he’s doing. Maybe you need to rethink that, at least temporarily, until he’s had a chance to redeem himself. 

Just then, your front door is opening with absolutely zero warning and slamming shut again before you can finish whipping around. Your heart threatens to choke you and you almost drop your glass, clutching your chest. 

“Jesus, you—”

But the words die in your throat as Spencer storms toward you, shrugging his coat off with a white-hot chill in his eyes. It’s enough to freeze you in place, heart drumming against the confines of your ribs. 

“You really need to start locking that door,” he breathes, tossing his jacket on the counter before grabbing your face and crashing his lips into yours, palms pressed to your jaw and fingers pushing into your hair. You stand there, hands hovering in air before you gain the wherewithal to blindly set the glass down behind you. Your heart is pounding as you immediately submit to the kiss, whining softly against his lips and cautiously seeking stability in the fabric of his shirt. Spencer pulls away only briefly, allowing you to gasp for much-needed air. His brown eyes are like molten gold on you, pupils blown wide and wild as he scans your face, taking heavy breaths of his own. “Anyone could just walk in.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

[ponderingmoonlight]

Gojo falls ill and reader does finishes his missions and her own missions as well do Gojo doesn't have a pile of work waiting for him once he gets better. Gojo gets better. And finds out. Hehehehe Lobe u babes

omg I love this, let's do it hehe

Reader finishing Gojo's missions when he falls sick and he finds out

Pairing: Gojo x wife!reader

Word Count: 2,3k

Synopsis: When your husband falls sick, you don't think twice about completing all of his tasks in order for him to not be stressed - even if it means multiple sleepless nights for youself. Little did you know that your husband will find out about it and thank you in his own way...

Warnings: pure fluff over fluff so enjoy, Gojo basically being THE husband for y'all, not proofread because it's already darn late here and I'm way too tired

„Oh come on, don’t tell me the honoured one caught a cold”, you playfully tease your beloved husband.

He’s definitely ill, there’s no doubt in that. The way his forehead is covered in sweat, his unusual pale face paired with his heavy breathing. Let alone the sight of his red and runny nose.

You never thought this is possible. After all, Satoru is one of the few people who are able to use revered technique. Isn’t he able to heal himself, to prevent his body from falling sick?

“Looks like I overdid it those last weeks. My body is catching up on my apparently”, he replies weakly along with a nasty sounding cough.

You know all too well these last weeks were like a trip to hell and back for him. This is actually the first time you saw your husband after one whole week of him running from mission to mission and coming home into bad past after midnight. Being two special grade sorcerers, it is your responsibility to prevent the worst things from happening. Especially during summer, the number of curses triples. And that paired with the stinging fact that jujutsu sorcerers die like flies each and every day…

It’s no wonder his body took a toll on him.

“You’ll stay here for the rest of the week, babe”, you instruct him gently while pulling a blanket up his chest.

“Nah, no chance. I’ll have a pile of work when I get back and-AH.”

It’s frightening, the way he almost chokes while coughing so roughly that it vibrates through your whole body. This doesn’t sound good at all. To be exact, you’ve never seen your husband like this despite the fact that you’ve been together for multiple years by now. If he’s feeling this miserable, it’s definitely time for a break.

“Don’t worry about that. I hold the position while you’re gone.”

Little did he know you meant that.

-a week later-

“It’s far past midnight. Why are you still up, (y/n)?”

His hoarse voice rips you out of your microsleep immediately, lids so heavy they feel like closing by themselves if you don’t pay close attention.

“Oh, just work.”

No, it’s not just work. Apart from the daily drama you have to endure, you made it your mission to complete each and every task your husband would face as soon as he comes back. You know all too well he’ll throw himself fully into work again, not thinking about his own health a single second. And to prevent that, you decided to finish his missions as well, to teach his students, to do anything in your power to prevent Satoru from a pile of work.

Including swollen eyelids, constant grumpy mood, no effort to eat and your shoulders hanging down onto the ground.

You hate to admit it, but you are exhausted. You never realized how much work your husband does during the day. Must be easier for him, though. Teleportation sure sounds nice at the moment…

“I’m worried about you, babe. Are the elders bombarding you with work again? Maybe I need to have a serious talk again-“

“No, don’t think too much about it. I’m just hanging on a bit, that’s it”, you lie.

Oh, Satoru knows it is. After all, you’re talking about yourself. You, so disciplined that you’d never leave work unattended. No, it’s absolutely impossible that you’re “hanging on a bit”. But what else is it? The dark circles underneath your eyes look like valleys in the soft light of a lamp, tired eyes failing to focus on the paperwork in front of you. Usually, this is what you’re doing straight in the morning when he’s still asleep. What keeps you so busy these last days? He has to find out, he-

He almost chokes on himself again, earning a concerned side eye from you. It’s been a week and he’s still sick to the brim. Worry lines decorate your face, palm gently resting against his scorching hot forehead.

“Off to bed with you.”

“Don’t stay up too long, okay? All you seem to do is work these last days”, your husband replies worried himself.

You sigh to yourself. That’s because you do. But leaving your husband to a pile of work after he returns to Jujutsu High only to get sick again? You grab the pen in your hand tighter, force your eyes to fully open. Only a few more days and you’ll be done. After all, you’re doing this for him, right?

Satoru is definitely worth the sleepless nights.

-a few days after-

“Turns out I’m fully back at normal again, babe!”, your husband announces proudly.

You blink against the harsh light of the merciless sun, eyes dry like sand. Only a few hours ago, you returned from a village Satoru was supposed to inspect. Well, minutes turned into hours when a special grade curse appeared out of no where and made your life living hell. The sun already began to rise when you carried yourself back into bed.

But still, you can’t help but smile at him. These last days were rough for him. Him, the strongest, passed out because of a cold. He wasn’t himself all this time, weak body bound into bed with his limbs aching.

“So glad to here that”, you mumble while pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips.

“Sleep in for a while, you look exhausted (y/n). I know you just came back a few hours ago and don’t you dare to lie at me.”

Your eyes widen in an instant, cheeks blushing ever so slightly. You were so careful about leaving and returning, his even and long breaths not giving a single hint that he might be awake.

“I’m heading to Jujutsu High, bet work piled up pretty bad. Wish me good luck and have a good rest princess, I’ll kick their asses if they try to call you!”

With one last loving glance at you, he’s gone. And you can’t help but pass out immediately.

“Guess who’s back to save the day!”, Satoru announces proudly into the room filled with his students and Yaga Masamichi who looks at him with the same disinterest as usual.

“You? Didn’t even know you even exist anymore”, Nobara mumbles while filing down her nails.

“How are you? (y/n) told us you were sick”, Yuji interjects.

“I’m completely back to normal!”

“What a shame”, Megumi mumbles under his breath.

“Sooo, what side of earth do I have to save today? I’m sure a lot of work piled up while I was gone. After all, I’m the strongest.”

Satoru stretches himself playfully, waiting for the director to tell him about all different kinds of missions, curses and teachings he has to deal with these next few days. But instead, he just shrugs his shoulders.

“What? Got nothing to say? Okay, let me guess, what about that special grade curse in the village-“

“Done”, Yaga Masamichi replies dryly.

“The combat training with the first year-“

“Done.”

“Any curses that appeared in Tokyo?”

“Done.”

“Taking care of-“

“Done.”

This can’t be true, the man in front of him has to joke. Apart from you, Satoru is the only special grade sorcerer here at Jujutsu High. No one would ever be able to fulfil some of those missions, let alone teach his students just like that. Not even the director himself is capable of dealing with that special grade curse he was talking about just before Satoru got sick. But who…?

“Didn’t your wife tell you she already managed all those things?”

Oh, he was so stupid that it hurts. All these nights he caught you almost falling asleep on your desk, the multiple times you sneaked out of bed far past midnight, the dark circles under your eyes. All this time, you weren’t only busy with your own missions. No, you actually fulfilled all of his work for him as well.

“Just the amount of work I have to do when I come back. Urgh, being sick sucks.”

“Don’t worry, love. I’m sure you’ll be fine.

Yeah, he sure as hell is. But only because you decided to make your own life living hell for two weeks straight.

“Please don’t tell me (y/n) did all of my stuff while I was gone.”

“I’ll never understand how a kind-hearted woman like her ended up with you. She didn’t even stop when I told her to and somehow managed to get information about the missions I prepared for your sick ass”, the director replies dryly.

“Call her in right now.”

Words aren’t enough to thank you for this. No, you deserve way more than that, way more than his mouth could ever give you.

“And let her leave again in about an hour.”

-an hour later-

“Again, sorry for calling you in, (y/n). Now get back home, you’re free tomorrow.”

“Thank you”, is all you’re able to reply, wobbly feet carrying you back into your car and onto the road.

You sigh to yourself. Well, you definitely didn’t expect the director to call you this early when you just returned from an exhausting mission. But who are you to say no to him? After all, it’s your job to do this, it’s your job to protect the innocent.

But…Is it also your job to answer strange questions from your students in the morning?

“Come on, use your brain! You know what the director said!”, Nobara hisses through gritted teeth, the trio sticking their heads together after you were forced to drop your haircare routine to Nobara.

“Ehm...so…well…”

“If you don’t have any further questions, I’ll go-“

“Yes! I have a question!”, Yuji screams so loudly that his voice echoes through your tired brain.

“What is it, Yuji?”, you mutter with your eyes closed.

“How exactly are babies made, (y/n)-san?”

“You’re an idiot…”, Megumi grumbles.

“Really? This is all you have left in your pea-sized brain?”

“What? You just told me to ask her something and that’s what I came up with!”, Yuji defends himself.

“Yeah, but that ‘something’ definitely didn’t include THAT!”

It’s almost as if they were forced to ask you dumb questions. You’ll definitely have a talk with your husband about their strange behaviour when you caught up on sleep. But before that…

You open the door with a swift motion.

Your heart skips a beat, eyes widen.

The usual so modern and clean living-room is now covered in rose pedals and filled with the fresh scent of sakura leaves, your couch unfolded and covered in the most fluffy blankets, pillows and stuffed animals you’re ever seen. And there he sits.

He, your beloved husband, holding up your bathrobe oh so inviting.

“What’s going on here?”, you breathe out.

Suddenly, all the exhaustion you felt earlier disappeared into thin air. Did he really do all of this for you? The candles flickering, the blankets, the strawberries covered in chocolate waiting on the table, him wearing that black t-shirt you love so much.

“Guess what, I found out what you did. Did you really think you’ll get away with stealing my work in silence?”, he teases, love dripping from each and every word he says.

“It was nothing”, you try to brush him off.

But instead, he gets up and grabs your hand in order to guide you into the dim bathroom that is only lightened by a few candles. Again, the lovely smell of sakura leaves radiates from the bathtub filled with bubbles and hot steam. Just the thought of letting yourself sink into that warm water, to finally release the tension in your sore muscles-

Before you’re even able to comprehend what’s happening, Satoru took off your clothes and lifts you off the ground with ease. Your body doesn’t dare to fight back, too weak from all the missions you completed these last days. Just the tip of your toe, relaxing in the water for a few minutes before returning to Jujutsu High…

“Nothing, huh? So you mean doing the stuff I need a month for in two weeks besides your own missions is nothing? Words can’t express how thankful I am to have such a sweet, caring and steaming hot wife”, he whispers against your ear, his fingers starting to massage your back oh so skilled.

You allow yourself to sink into his touch, to rest your eyes for a few minutes. Well, there is no denying in the fact that this was a little too much for you. All the fighting, the paper work, the heart and soul you poured in each and every work.

And then there’s him. Satoru, your beloved husband, who massages your back with his skilled fingers. How lucky you are to call him your husband, that he decided to spend the rest of his life with you. Even though he scolded you ever so slightly for managing his pile of work, you know he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat. What a treasure, how glad you are to know him, how wonderful he is…

“(y/n)?”, Satoru purrs against your ear.

You don’t response, chest rising and falling slow and steady. He can’t help but smile to himself, admiring he beauty of your finally resting face. Carefully, he lifts you out of the bathtub and covers your body in the fluffy bathrobe you love so much. You definitely deserve some rest for all the work you did these last days.

He can’t help but gently caress your cheek, making sure you’re completely tucked you underneath your favourite blanket.

“What a lucky man I am”, he mutters to himself while outlining your parted lips.

“To call someone so wonderful my wife…”

Tags:

 @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @hellkaiserinphoenix 

@lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete

@gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3

@sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly

@froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi

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@darkstarlight82 @satoreo @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @komelrebi-san @deezy12299 @okay-it-is-ivy

(this took me forever so if I tagged u be so kind and leave a like/comment/reblog lol)

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #in a world of boys he’s a gentleman #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #jujutsu gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo husband #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk satoru #satoru gojo #satoru x reader #satoru x you #yuji #jjk yuji #jujutsu megumi #jjk megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #nobara #itadori #jjk trio

[explicit-tae]

Ungodly Hour: Day 1

You and Jungkook are together for the whole weekend. All he truly wanted from you was to admit you were his girl - but like always, he had to fuck it out of you. @swga-ficrecs @rrrapmonste-rr @xtrataerrestrial @bangctans @danielle143 @taekritimin123 @thelilbutifulthings @jksjx

Series Masterlist

word count: 3.675

warning: dirty talk, nipple sucking, slight kissing, neck biting, edging, face-slapping, cocky/jealous/possessive/dominant jungkook, bitchy/shit-talking but submissive reader, creampie, crying, begging,

“You cooked this?” your mother is first to ask once she bites into the meat, eyes growing slightly wide. “It tastes amazing.”

Jungkook gives a toothy grin and nods. “I added a secret sauce that my father has taught me.” 

You want to roll your eyes at Jungkook.

Dinner was going by smoothly. Around 20 minutes ago, your parents arrived. Your father appeared much the same, nonchalant and just ready to eat. Your mother did most of the talking. Her eyes roamed the apartment with prying eyes. She asked Jungkook and you questions after questions, all of which Jungkook responded to quickly and without hesitation. 

“How did you two really meet?” your mother asks after a moment. “I assume it couldn’t have been tweeter.”

You scoff. “No. It was not twitter.”

Jungkook places a hand atop yours and laughs. He wraps his fingers into your own and eyes you. He then brings your hand up to his lips and places a gentle kiss. “We met at the University.” Jungkook nods. “She was so cold to me at first.”

Your mother shakes her head. “Typical of her.”

“I must’ve asked her out a million times. I was shut down each and every time. Right, baby?”

You want to snatch that smirk off of his lips, but you only roll your eyes. 

“I think she got tired of my begging and agreed to a date.” Jungkook turns to your mother. “Ever since then, I’ve been attached to her like a lost puppy.”

Your father listens, not interested in speaking, but interested enough to appear apart of the conversation. “I’m glad.” your mother speaks. She takes a sip of her water. “Y/N can be a little mean.”

You knit your brows, but before you can speak Jungkook cackles. “She can!” he agrees.

Oh wow, you think. 

“But that’s what I love about her. She’s feisty and stubborn.” Jungkook looks your way, his eyes burning into you. You glance away from them and grunt, feeling hot. “And she always speaks up for me at restaurants when they get my order wrong.”

“That was once.” you quip. “You asked for extra sauce…”

“I did.” Jungkook nods. “I thought she was going to rip someone’s head off.” he tells your mother jokingly. “At least I know she cares.”

Jungkook was right - he had won over your mother.

That was expected, however. Your mother was easy to please. Jungkook was the equivalent of tall, dark and handsome. He’s easy to speak with and was such a smooth talker that it even had her swooning. He was affectionate, often kissing your hand or your head - more than usual, but you told yourself he was milking this to the very end. 

Now, your father was a different story. He was able to engage the man into conversation and actually hold it, having your fathers full and undivided attention. That is when you realized that Jungkook meant what he said - that even if this fake dating didn’t end with the both of you actually dating, that Jungkook would be there regardless. Your mother was already inviting him to dinner the following week and even hugged him before leaving - before she hugged you. 

“I’ll see you two next week?” your mother asks as she’s strolling out the door.

Jungkook wraps you in a tight embrace, his head resting on your shoulder. “You will!” he responds to her, waving curtly. “Y/N tells me about your cooking all the time. I can’t wait!”

You grumble - it was all the time, but you weren’t aware Jungkook was actually listening to your random ramblings. He was slowly winning your mother over that you were sure she would have him for dinner even without you there.

“You think you’re cute?” you push Jungkook off of you once the door is shut. 

“Is that the thanks I get for making a good impression?”

You cross your arms. “You know what you were doing complimenting her the entire night.”

Jungkook smirks. “Like mother, like daughter. You both like my praises.” Jungkook’s hands are on you again, bringing you closer to him. “I have to keep myself on top if I’m going to be competing against these boyfriends.”

Your hands are against his chest to push him away. “Ugh, take me home.”

“You aren’t staying the weekend?” Jungkook pouts his lips slightly. “We have to finish binge watching Law & Order.”

“You’re right.” you sigh for a moment. “And here I thought I had a chance to get rid of you.”

“You never can.” Jungkook’s right hand slaps your ass. You yelp, but it was only a gesture to bring you closer to him. He pecks your lips. “Let’s get going. We have the entire weekend ahead of us.”

The night shouldn’t have ended like this. You told yourself that you and Jungkook wouldn’t be entangled together - especially since you were watching Law & Order - there was no way Jungkook could ignore such an amazing series to get his cock wet.

But Jungkook had. 

It started with light touching. Jungkook’s bed is soft and it’s easy to be comfortable. He had gave you a shirt to wear - even if you had a weekend's worth of clothes - he insisted it would be best. You were certain he just wanted you in his shirt to appear more domesticated. 

Your first mistake was not wearing anything but the shirt and panties. Jungkook’s hands wandered upon your skin, his body dangerously close to yours. His hips would rut against your ass, prying hand going beneath the oversized shirt. “Just one kiss, Y/N. Don’t be like that.” was what he said - and you caved.

Of course it could never be one kiss. One peck led to him begging for more - and more. It led to him flipping you to face him, his hand squeezing the flesh of your ass to bring you closer to him. It continued with you being on top of him, tongues fighting against one another. His hands stayed upon your ass, rubbing gently as you and he kissed.

“We’re missing the show.” you protest, breaking free of the heated kiss. 

“We can always go back.” Jungkook eyes you with hooded eyes. “You look so pretty in my shirt.” he murmurs.

“Shut up, simp.” you roll your eyes jokingly.

“I can never compliment my girl without getting called a simp.” Jungkook tsks. His hands rub up your rib back down to your waist to your thighs. “It’s true, though. I wanna wake up with you like this every day.”

“I would have to actually be your girl for that to happen.” you retort. You gently grind against him, lips flashing him a mischievous grin. 

“You are my girl.” Jungkook hisses low, hands squeezing your hips to keep you firmly against him. “I got you in my shirt, don’t I?”

Jungkook and his logical comebacks. Damn him.

“I got you to stay with me this weekend, right?” Jungkook continues, his tongue coating his lips with moisture. 

“So?”

Jungkook manages to lift himself up without disrupting you. You and he are face to face now, your thighs caging him in between you. 

“So that makes you my girl.” Jungkook pecks your lips. “I know you like being called my girl, Y/N. Each time I say it you grind against me a little harder.”

Truly, fuck Jeon Jungkook because damn was he right.

“Exactly.” Jungkook murmurs, and for a second you believe he’s going to say something else - a comment that would indicate just how “down bad” you were for him. But no, Jungkook continues to stare at you.

You shift in his lap and with that, Jungkook blinks. “You’re really pretty.” 

You frown, knitting your brows together in an attempt to be annoyed - even if your heart did jolt. 

“My pretty girl.” Jungkook continues, his arms embracing you. “Far too stubborn to admit.”

“Is this how you ask out all your girls?” you snort, but feel yourself melting in his warm embrace. “Just demand for them to be with you?”

“There you go, Y/N.” Jungkook chuckles. “You go in that head of yours and start being delusional and fantasize me being with other girls.”

“Excuse me?” Delusional?

“Why are you adamant on me having multiple girls?” Jungkook gently kisses your forehead just because he knows it annoys you - his random acts of affection or kindness in a situation that is deemed “serious”.

You shrug your shoulders. “You fit the fuck boy aesthetic.” was all you say.

Jungkook snorts. “You think I have girls lining up to suck my dick in exchange for streaming services?”

You gasp. “We said we wouldn’t bring that up!” you hiss. 

“You’re right, baby. I’m sorry.” Jungkook smiles. “I just don’t see how you think I’m a fuck boy even now. I barked in order to meet your parents. I’m still getting laughed at in the groupchat.”

You suppress your own laughter, only giving Jungkook a grin.

“I basically fund your whole lifestyle. I think that’s far beyond a fuck boy.” Jungkook adds - but not in a way to throw it in your face or to appear as though you need him to. 

“A sugar daddy at best.” you shrug, but even you can’t help but laugh at the bewildered look on Jungkook’s face. “You do know you aren’t obligated to buy me things.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes - it was the same song and dance as before. He’d get you something he heard you speak about once a few days prior - you would insist it wasn’t a need, but the sparkle in your eyes was enough for him to keep doing it. 

“As my girl…” Jungkook places a kiss at the nape of your neck. “...it’s required of me to.”

“Until you get bored and throw me to the side.” you feel Jungkook’s teeth bite down on your neck. 

“You do everything but admit you like me, baby.” Jungkook presses you firmly against him. “I’m beginning to think that’s what you want me to do so you can remain in denial.”

Jungkook’s hands go beneath the large shirt of his you wore. Your skin is so soft and smooth - the both of you shudder. 

“You’re okay.” you murmur, biting your lip when you feel both of his hands engulf your breasts. 

“Just okay?” Jungkook’s tongue twirls on the spot he bit. “I can have you on your back begging for me in seconds, baby. Nothing about me is ‘just okay’.”

Your play hard to get was not going to last - especially not now. The cocky Jungkook was creeping in, and he knew that your words were nothing but bluffs.

“I’m sure I would be the same way with someone else.”

You couldn’t help it. It was a game for you at times to rile up Jungkook. He was the jealousy and competitive type - he had to prove that he was the best at any and everything he did. 

“You want me to fuck you so bad.” Jungkook chuckles, but you can hear the slight irritation in his voice - deep and raspy; ready to prove you wrong. You shudder slightly as goosebumps ride across your skin.

You really did. You were already wet enough, his hands and mouth adding to it. There was nothing like Jungkook fucking your petty words right out of you.

“You do this every time, Y/N.” Jungkook bites your neck harshly and you yelp, squirming. “You love messing with me. It must turn you on seeing me fuck the submission into you.”

You swallow thickly to suppress a moan. “I just give you what you want.” you shrug slightly. 

“What do I want?”

“Someone to moan for you no matter if it feels good or not.”

You were playing a dangerous game with Jungkook, but it just brings nothing but excitement through you. 

You yelp once more when you feel your hair being yanked. “You’re being a bitch again, baby.” Jungkook murmurs, but even he is amused by your attempts. You can never just tell him that you want him - never tell him that you want him to dominate. Instead, you deny or insinuate the opposite just to give him a reason to prove you wrong.

But Jungkook said it once before, he loved your ‘play hard to get’ game you played with him; when he had you it was much more satisfying. 

“Isn’t that what you like about me?” you tease, and even in the dim room - law and order playing ignored in the background - you are beautiful to him, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“Love it.” Jungkook presses his lips firmly onto yours, his tongue sliding past your mouth. It’s quick and he’s rough, but you cannot protest. His hands are gripping your flesh so hard that you feel as though they’d leave a mark.

Jungkook yanks the shirt off of you, tongue instantly finding both of your breasts. Your legs are wrapped around him, his clothed cock pressing firmly against you.

“Why can’t you be normal?” Jungkook’s lips pops from your nipples, his tongue licking it furiously. “A normal girl would just tell me she wants me to be a little rough and not provoke it out of me.”

Jungkook grips both of your breasts into the palm of his hands and brings both of your nipples into his mouth.Your back arches at the warm sensation pooling through you. 

“I-I have to tell you how to fuck like a man?”

There was a new sensation when the words left your mouth and hit Jungkook’s ears. It’s a sensation that shoots straight to your core and leaves your cheek stinging.

The room is silent, Jungkook’s eyes wide watching your reaction for a moment. He’s ready to apologize for not thinking before he slaps you, but it’s your moan that draws him back to reality.

“You liked that?” Jungkook murmurs and you nod, biting your lip. Jungkook grunts, his mind wandering just how far you’d let him go.

Jungkook unwraps your legs from around him and removes himself from the bed. He drags you to the edge of it, you yelping at the sudden movement. Jungkook removes your panties and widens your legs. He’s cocky - through the flashing television light, he see’s how wet you are for him.

“Keep your eyes on me.” Jungkook demands.

You swallow, finding it difficult underneath his intense gaze. Jungkook lowers himself, burying his tongue deep within your folds. He forces your legs open each time you threaten to close them. His eyes are locked onto your fluttering ones, watching as you moan and cry for him. You were so beautiful for him - if only you’d allow him to admire your beauty. Oftentimes when he looked your way, you were quick to respond with a witty remark.

“Fuck…” you groan, breaking eye-contact just as he enters his fingers inside of you. You lay your head back and continue to pant. 

“You never allow me to treat you nicely.” Jungkook removes his tongue from your clit to spit on it, continuing his pumping. “If you’d let me, I would take good care of you.” Jungkook licks his lips, the wet sounds of your pussy like a melody to his ears. “But instead, you want to be a bitch. I don’t get it.”

“K-Kookie…” you draw out a moan, a hand cupping your breast. You can feel the familiar churning in your stomach. “I’m gonna cum-”

“No you aren’t.” Jungkook removes his fingers from inside of you, hand slapping your clit. 

Your eyes shoot open, your pussy clenching around nothing. “W-What-”

Your mouth is stuffed with Jungkook’s fingers, your tongue twirling around them. 

“See how good you taste?” Jungkook questions, removing his fingers to grip your chin tightly. “I would let you cum but…I’m sure you can always find someone else to do it. Since you enjoy faking so much.”

Your heart is pumping and you flush hot with embarrassment. You aren’t sure what to say - Jungkook had you beat. 

“Aw,” Jungkook chuckles. “You look so sad, baby. I can let you cum.”

You swallow, glancing away from Jungkook. 

“Is that what you want?”

You nod your head, but Jungkook wants to hear you. 

You yelp when your clit is slapped once more. “Use your words, baby.”

“Y-Yes!” you try not to moan and sound too desperate, but it’s inevitable. 

“Yes what, baby?” Jungkook’s already tugging his bottom half off, his underwear going along with it. His shirt is next, chisel abs in your line of vision that you groan at just the sight. “Tell me what you want, Y/N. You have a mouth any other time.”

Fuck Jeon Jungkook. 

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his cocky attitude.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his amazing dick that has you following along with him. “Please fuck me.” you sigh in defeat. “Please make me cum, Kook.”

“With pleasure.” Jungkook is delighted. He slaps the top of his cock against your clit, licking his lips. “So wet. To think you said someone else can have you like this.”

Jungkook wasn’t going to let that go - you can only imagine how hard he was going to fuck-

“J-Jungkook…!” you shout in surprise at how hard he enters you, his thrusting increasing by the second. Your back slams against the bed with each thrust, and it only bounces back just as hard. 

“You can handle it, Y/N.” Jungkook hisses, fingernails digging into your flesh. “You don’t want me to be nice, you don’t want to be my girl…”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, panting heavily. Jungkook’s tone appears serious - you’d have to ask later on if your words really got to him like they appeared to have. 

“I let you…fuck…” Jungkook’s head hangs, eyes unsure where to focus. Your breast bounced furiously in rhythm with his pounding. Your face is scrunched with pleasure, a bit of drool in the corner of your mouth. “...I let you sit on my face. I let you spend as much of my money as you’d like with no limit. I…”

Jungkook grips your chin once more, forcing you to focus on him. It’s difficult - Jungkook doesn’t allow you a second to breathe, but you don’t want him to. 

“And all I really ask you to be is my girl.”

It pains for him to remove himself from you - all he wants is to cum deep inside of you like you’d allow him before. But - his pride and ego got the best of him. If you were going to front as if you didn’t need him to cum, then you weren’t.

“Kook…” you cry in defeat, pussy once more clenching around nothing. 

Jungkook laughs, a dark glee in the tone. “And like I said before, Y/N…” your eyes flutter a bit looking at his face - dark lust filled eyes staring right into yours. “...I can have you on your back begging for me, can’t I?”

Fuck Jeon Jungkook.

Your chest heaves. “Fuck you.” you curse at how meek your voice appeared.

“I bet you’d like that baby.” Jungkook plays with your clit slightly. “You’re my girl, right?”

You lick your lips, thighs quivering. 

“Say it and I’ll let you cum.” Jungkook centers his tip at your entrance, thumb circling against your wet bud. “That’s all I want from you, baby. You can have anything you want from me…”

Jungkook enters you slowly this time. Your groan is long and deep, your hands reaching out to grab Jungkook’s bicep. 

“J-Jungkook.” you trail off - the pleasure now getting to you. You just wanted to cum by him - his hands, mouth, cock, whatever it took.

“Yes, baby?” Jungkook breathes - he’s unsure himself if he’d be able to last long like this and then his ego would be hurt (but then again, he wouldn’t have blueballs).

“Please make me cum, Kookie.” you wail, hot tears falling down your face. You had to look utterly pathetic weeping for dick. Jungkook’s ego was now going to skyrocket and this moment is something he would forever hold over your head - no jokes from you could ever be taken now. “I had you on your back crying for me, baby” - you can hear it now.

But - you were desperate. Jungkook was hot, his dick was amazing and you’d allow him to have this over you. 

“I’m your girl, Kookie.”

Jungkook shudders - and now he’s truly satisfied. He pounds into you sloppily, certain that neither of you were going to last long. You’re clenching around him so heavenly, moaning and crying his names that he cannot help but want to cum inside of you each and every time. 

“I know you’re close, baby.” you hear Jungkook say, his forehead - moist with sweat - pressed onto yours. “We can come together, okay?”

“Y-Yea…” you nod, but you wrap your arms around Jungkook and press your lips against his. You’re groaning against the kiss, already cumming on his cock.

Jungkook feels the electric shock go through him and he shudders. With a few more thrusts, Jungkook cums inside of you, trembling at the sensation.

Ten minutes it’s what it took for you and Jungkook to come back to reality. You’re sweaty and you haven’t even done anything.

“You wanna shower?” Jungkook’s voice pipes in. “Are you okay? I didn’t go too overboard, right?”

You nod your head. “I’m okay.” you murmur. 

Jungkook nods. He kisses your temple. “I can start the shower for you-”

“You aren’t coming?” you ask once you feel Jungkook shuffle on the bed.

“I-I..” Jungkook’s eyes are wide and doe like. He appears completely surprised that you offered such a thing. “You’d like me to?”

You laugh at his expression. How you manage to remove yourself from the bed is beyond you - your legs are shaking with pain that you’re not upset about. 

Jungkook feels your hands against his bare chest and he tilts his head, awaiting your response. “I said I was your girl, wasn’t I?” you murmur, sending a kiss to his chest.

In seconds, Jungkook is erect again at just the admission. 

Series Masterlist

#ungodly hour #explicit-tae #bts smut #btswritersclub #bangtanwritershq #btsmasterlist2022 #bangtan smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #fake tweets #bts college au #bts fwb #jungkook friends with benefits #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #bangtanwriters net

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 19] || [Chapter 21]

Rating: E Pairing: Gaz x Reader x Ghost x Soap || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 2.1K~ cw: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, protected sex, ejaculation, voyeurism (in person and digital). Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: he's their (under)boss for a reason.

My dumbass was in such a hurry I forgot to tag my lovely @mothymunson who encouraged me to write this when I was lost where to fit it + gave me extra ideas for the dynamic! 🫶

Chapter 20: Control

It’s been two weeks since that lazy Sunday you spent with Johnny. He had to leave in a hurry, departing on a mission, unable to tell you where he’d be going or when he’d be back…

Simon and Kyle were already on a mission of their own by Sunday so… You’ve spent these last two weeks alone.

It’s been quiet without them… And frankly… a bit lonely.

You used to like having time to yourself after the break-up… But now?

You’ve been with Leah and Mia for dinner a couple times… And although you love your girlfriends, and enjoyed yourself greatly while gossiping with them (and my, my, did you gossip) you find yourself missing Simon, Kyle and Johnny.

It’s 5:30 P.M. on Wednesday and you’re in your kitchen, making something quick for dinner, when there’s a knock on your door.

Eyes squinting in surprise at the lack of expected guests, you immediately think the worst. It’s Ethan. It’s Ethan and he’s pissed that Johnny and Simon fucked him up and he’s here for revenge and you’re alone and-

“Sweetheart, it’s me.” Simon’s voice from the other side of the door relaxes you and you rush across the sitting room and pull open the door.

“Bloody hell, you spooked me!” You say softly as you look up at him. He’s still in full gear and slightly out of breath, as if he ran over to your house the moment he landed on base.

“Hi!” You greet as he pulls off his mask and wraps his arms around you. He steps inside, making you step back with him as he spins you and kisses you, closing the door behind him.

You feel him guide you over to the living room couch and lower you onto it, making you squeal and giggle in surprise. “Simon!” You’re able to murmur as he lowers himself atop of you.

“Missed you… missed you…” He grumbles as he kisses you again, one of his hands on your hip, the other supporting his weight on the throw pillows by your head.

“Missed you too…” You admit, causing him to groan under his breath. His fingers find the straps that hold his vest in place and he quickly undoes them and takes it off, dropping it haphazardly on the floor next to you.

“Simon…” You whisper before he captures your mouth with his again, his tongue finding yours and making you moan. Oh, how you’ve missed him… Your hands trail down his chest and arms, unzipping his fleece jacket and he allows you to take it off him, leaving him in a black t-shirt underneath.

Your hands trail down lower, finding the utility belt at his waist. Your fingers just barely graze the thick, hard bulge in his cargo pants as you try to undo his belt, but one of his hand sharply stops you by gripping your wrist with three fingers.

You pull back from the kiss, the two of you out of breath. Your eyebrows are lowered in concern and your eyes softened. “What?” You asked him softly.

“I’m not-” He trailed off for a moment and huffed before burying his face in your neck. “Not ready for that.” He told you softly. “My body isn’t… I don’t want you to…”

“Oh…” You said, a bit surprised. You had noticed his reaction had been the same he used to have whenever you touched his mask in the past… And if back then you didn’t probe, you certainly wouldn’t now. “Okay.” You told him.

“Can we just…” He trailed off and slowly grabbed your waist with his hand, grinding his crotch lightly against yours. It jostled you a bit and you bit your lip. 

“Yeah… we can dry-hump, Simon…” You told him in a reassuring tone, which only made him groan again and hump against you once more. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulder and neck as he fixed his grip on you and rubbed his bulge against your body in the thin lounge pants you had changed into after work.

Just as you’re just starting to kiss again, with Simon murmuring more sweet nothings of how much he missed you, there’s a new knocking on the door. Simon groaned in complaint and buried his face in your neck again.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell… He’s fast.” Simon grumbled and pushed up to his feet, sliding off you and helping you sit up.

“Who…?” You asked, a bit light-headed from the intense make-out session.

“Kyle.” He complained as he fixed his bulge in his pants with his hand, while waddling his way over to the door and throwing it open.

“You sneaky bastard.” Kyle said to Simon and pointed a finger at him while coming into the flat.

“Hi, Kyle…” You said softly, receiving a ‘Hi, lovie’ in response as he took off his shoes.

Kyle’s also out of breath but, unlike Simon, he’s changed clothes. “Guess what, Simon here waited until I got in the shower before he ran off to come see you. Left me stranded back at base!”

You can’t help but giggle as Simon’s scarred mouth morphs into a smug, proud-of-himself smirk. “Oops.” He said.

Kyle gave the two of a you a once over. “Ah… I see. Someone was… eager, huh?” He teases and uses his chin to point at the obvious bulge in Simon’s pants.

The younger man moves over to the couch and stands behind it before kissing you on the lips just as hard as Simon did, taking your breath away and making your shoulders sag as you sigh in delight at the feeling of his warm mouth on yours.

Pulling back, Kyle licks his lips and winks at you. “Good thing I got here when I did, hm?” He teases and looks at Simon before returning his gaze to you. “Now we can really get the party started…” He adds.

-

“Oh… Oh, fuck…” You whine at the top of your lungs, your eyes rolling back with each thrust inside of you.

Kyle’s lying on the bed under you, his thighs spread as he has you in a full nelson. His hands hold you behind your neck, fingers intertwined, your knees hooked up on his forearms to keep you spread open.

Kyle’s big. Really big. More than you expected. Considering the only points of comparison you’ve got are John and Ethan… It’s not like either of them was exactly small, but Kyle’s constantly bottoming out inside you without having to throw his whole weight into it. He’s also perfect shaved, not an inch of hair on him… anywhere. Other than his face, of course.

Your bodies are slick with sweat and your moans and his grunts and groans echo in the bedroom. You can barely keep your eyes open and if it weren’t the fact Simon in your field of view, you’d have given up altogether.

Simon’s sitting across from you and Kyle, having cleared your clothes’ chair and taken a seat in it, watching you and Kyle with keen eyes… His large, rough hand is wrapped around his own cock, a long one, the tip red and angry. He strokes it slowly, almost lazily, as he watches you get properly fucked by Kyle.

Unlike John (and Johnny, as you found out during your bath), Simon and Kyle are both cut… And Simon has something that you didn’t expect. Piercings. A Jacob’s ladder, you’re pretty sure it’s called. Four barbells stacked on the underside of his shaft, which he only leaves visible for a few seconds every time his fingers uncover it.

Considering Kyle’s stayed quiet about it, you’re pretty sure he hasn’t spotted them, either from having his own eyes closed, or because you’re in the way. Either way, you don’t mind it, at all, that you get the view all to yourself, even for just a second.

The sight of Simon sat there, legs spread, his cock on display, his big hands and strong arms moving slowly as he watches you and Kyle is an amazing one… And hearing Kyle losing his mind behind you, too into the moment to succeed at any amount of dirty talk or at saying anything coherent just makes it better.

“Fuck… Yeah… Fuck… You feel… Bloody fuckin’ ‘ell…” Kyle grunts behind you as he keeps rocking his hips against your ass, making sure to plunge hard and deep inside you, not giving you time to breath before he’s bottoming out again, the pace unforgivingly fast.

You watch closely as Simon stops for a moment and shifts around on the chair he’s sitting on before pulling out his phone. He lets out a chuckle as he looks at the screen, then, he fidgets around with it for a moment, texting someone.

It’s barely a minute later when you hear the signature sound of a FaceTime call blasting from the phone’s speakers. Simon accepts it and aims the back camera at you and Kyle.

“Say hi to Johnny, sweetheart.” Simon demands, his tone surprisingly bossy, as he goes back to stroking his large cock.

“H-Hi, Johnny…!” You whine aloud, just barely able to speak without melting, your mind slowly emptying of all thoughts beside the feeling of Kyle inside you and Simon masturbating across from you.

Your breath is ragged as Kyle speeds up his thrusts even more, his grip on the back of your neck tightening and tensing up, his hips moving so erratically that it makes you squeal louder. “Kyle! OH FUCK!” You whine, eyes rolling back and your face wincing lightly from desperation.

“Slow down, Kyle.” Simon demands. “Slow and deep.” He adds. You hear Kyle grunt and he murmurs something incomprehensible in response as he does what he’s told. His motions slow and become more paced and calm as Kyle himself tenses up underneath you.

You notice how Kyle’s thighs tense up, his veins bulging and throbbing as he controls himself not to squirm, clearly trying his best not to lose it and to obey what Simon says.

“Mmm… that’s it… That’s it…” Simon praises, his eyes going back and forth between the sight of you and Kyle, and Johnny on his phone. “Nice and slow, Kyle…” He continues saying.

Kyle quakes underneath you, his breath getting a bit more ragged and you swear you hear him gulp down as he tries to be good for Simon and for you.

“Johnny’s enjoying it, aren’t you, Johnny?” He speaks to the phone. You can’t hear the reply from the Scot, but considering how Simon’s chuckling, the answer seems to be a yes.

“Simon… Fuck…” Kyle grunts. “This is… t-torture!” He’s able to get out, his thighs twitching and his arms tightening their hold on the back of your legs. “I’m going to- Fuck!” He grunts.

“Go on, pretty boy.” Simon teases. Something about the look in his eye, the little mischievous smirk on his lips… God, for someone who’s afraid of being touched, he sure knows what the fuck he’s doing… It’s almost intoxicating, the way he’s exerting control on everyone in the room and even Johnny over the phone.

You can feel the knot in your stomach tightening more and more as you experience all these feelings at once, your mind steadily clearing of any thoughts other than the prickling of stars in the corner of your eyes and the heat increasing more and more.

“Aaah-” Kyle hisses as he keeps moving slowly and deeply, gritting his teeth behind your back and huffing through his nose with barely restricted euphoria. “Fuck… Fuck…” He grunts. 

“F-FUCK!”  His voice shouting as he loses his composure and buries himself to the hilt inside you with a sharp motion of his hips… and another… and another… Completely disregarding Simon’s commands to go slow… And it makes your eyes roll as your orgasm hits, causing you to shudder and twitch… 

But, instead of moaning his name, you find yourself moaning Simon’s, your head unable to dip back due to Kyle’s grip on it, and forcing you to stare right at Simon as you fall over the edge of your climax.

Behind you, Kyle is losing his own mind, spilling his come in the confines of the condom… And you watch through a lidded, barely-aware gaze, as after a few more strokes, Simon’s cock throbs and twitches… before a few ropes of cum shoot in quick succession all over his lower stomach, which he had the presence of mind to lift his t-shirt out of.

The bedroom falls into complete silence as Kyle pulls out and slowly lets go of you, carefully helping get you out of the strained position that’ll likely leave your legs and joints sore the next few days.

“Good job...” Simon breaks the silence as he tries to catch his breath, his head dipped back against the wall behind him, his eyes lazily trailing the sight of you and Kyle on the bed, and then back to Johnny on the phone.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell…” You can finally hear Johnny speak through the speakers now that the room is silent. “You lot better repeat that when I’m not overseas and can join in…!” He quips, drawing laughter out of all of you.

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taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

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#ikea writes 💚 #it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #soap x reader #cod smut