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kiwisbell · 3 months

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yellow bird [joel miller]

Taking the weight off your shoulders.

whiskey sour masterlist | my masterlist

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

tags/warnings: 18+ (MDNI), dbf!joel, age gap (20s/40s), sexual frustration, academic-validation-to-praise-kink pipeline, these two are in lurvvvv, thigh riding, joel talks you through it, and maybe reveals a side of him we haven't seen yet, a lil fluid exchange, some sweet sappy talk because it's them what do we expect, pure self-indulgence, that’s about it

word count: ~ 2.7k

a/n: this was mine and @cavillscurls's challenge to myself to write somethin short and sweet, thank you mya for being a cheerleader throughout this whole process. and thank you hugely el @northernbluess for last-minute beta reading and telling me it does not(?), in fact, suck dick n cock. i envision this as part of the whiskey sour-verse, but you don't need to read the series to understand what's going on here! this honestly makes me super fucking nervy to post, but i hope you enjoy. xoxo

read on ao3!

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The moon is carving a path through the darkening sky, and you’ve been quiet for hours.

You sit at the dining table with your cheek in your palm, lidded eyes flitting relentlessly from one side of the page to another. Every couple minutes, you jot down some notes on your cue cards. Your coffee lies untouched next to your textbook.

Each slash of pen across paper cuts into his chest. You write in bursts of furious energy, the paper sometimes bunching under your fist, black ink smearing—you only ever write in black—one letter into the next. Your jerky looping letters resemble nothing close to your penmanship. Your sentences are punctuated by squiggles rather than dots. The corners of your eyes are moist, your skin glowing gold under a filtered smattering of light from the street lamps outside.

There's a tight line to the curve of your mouth, a gash of colour where your lipstick has faded. Weariness dulls the shimmer in your eye. You keep writing.

“Thought you were goin’ out with your friends tonight,” says Joel.

“Hmm?” You blink slowly, the sound of his voice dragging your gaze toward Joel: dressed in jeans and an olive flannel (a gift from you), he's watching you study, a worried slash between his brows. “Oh,” you say. “No. I bailed.”

A flare of his nostrils as he approaches you from the coffee station is the only indication he gives that he's frustrated. “You’ve been workin’ all day, baby. You haven't eaten.” He slides his coffee mug toward you and switches it with your own. “Here, take mine. Yours is gettin’ cold.”

You start to shake your head. “Joel, it’s—”

“It's either you drink mine,” he says, sliding the milk and sugar toward you, “or you take a break.”

You narrow your eyes. “You hate my coffee.”

“Relationships are sacrifice. C’mere.” He yanks the leg of your chair toward him until you're sitting beside one another. He dips his mouth to your temple, and sleep begins to tug at your eyelids. Still, you keep your books open, if not partially out of spite, as Joel drinks your too-sweet coffee and hides his grimace.

“You hate it.”

Joel’s eyes slide to you over the rim of his cup, his chest pulling taut at the sight of the unshed tear on the outer corner of your eye, teetering.

Your bottom lip wobbles, your last Sisyphean effort to hold the droplet of water at bay, and Joel sets down the mug.

“You hate my coffee,” you whisper, not meeting his eye.

It's the press of his hand to your lower back that makes your fingers tremble, curled tightly around your pen. “There are worse things I’d do for you than drink shitty coffee.”

“So you admit it's shitty.”

His fingers dance up and down your lower vertebrae. “You’re exhausted,” he says softly, his mouth grazing your shoulder. “Come and take a break. Can feel all that tension, sweetheart. Right—”

The warm press of his palm between your shoulder blades. The simple touch ignites pressure behind your nose.

“—here,” he finishes with the pinch of his thumb and forefinger around your brain stem.

Your head lolls gently in his direction. “I know what you're doing.”

An innocent sound pitches out of his throat. “Do you?”

Your lashes flutter as he begins to dig his palm into the tense balls of muscle in your back. The contact, warm and almost gentle, undoes you. The pearl stuck in your lashes shakes free.

The impact of it carving a path down your cheek strikes his heart true. “C’mere, baby.”

Pulling you reluctantly away from your workbooks, Joel sits on the couch and guides you on top of him, your thighs hugging his hips. “This sad face,” he says under his breath, brushing the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. “So pretty when you’re sad.” Your eyes dip when his stubble ghosts across your jaw, his lips warming the shell of your ear.

You huff, your arms winding around his neck. “You’re wandering into patronising, Miller.”

“Hmm, big words.” His grin carves its shape into your skin. He nips the spot just below your ear and you gasp, your fingers curling in the locks at the nape of his neck. “Told you, baby—such a smart girl.”

You open your mouth to snip at him, but he’s sliding one big, rough hand underneath your silky shorts and pinching your ass. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he says, his pinky finger dipping under your waistband.

“I’m fine,” you grumble, wriggling on his lap. He hums, the downward curve of his mouth on your skin etched in skepticism, his hands pulling you tighter to him.

“Tell me what’s wrong, baby.” His hand slides up your spine, lifting your little silk shirt, the hardness of him caging you in. “Tell me so I can fix it.”

You're gooey and pliant on top of him, hips flexing to fix your thighs around his waist, your body attuned to him in a way you refuse to fight. Joel Miller is yours. He’s always had your back.

“I’m tired, Joel. I keep bombing these stupid fucking tests, and the new guy at work is incompetent, and I haven't had an orgasm in a whole week.”

Sometimes, you're surprised by how deeply you envy your Joel for being so fucking right. For knowing, even when you don't, how deeply your wounds sit.

He frowns up at you, his thumb caressing the curve of your jaw, guilt and understanding pinching his ribs. “And I’ve been workin’ late,” he says.

Silently, you nod, fisting the hem of his shirt. “But that's okay, Joel. I know you work hard. It's not your job to—”

He shakes his head, trailing his hands up and down your soft thighs. “I’ve been workin’ late,” he repeats, his voice thinning, “and I haven't been treating my girl like she deserves.”

Your cheeks warm at the way his hands reach your inner thighs, thumbs ghosting across your hip bones. “That's not true.”

“Baby, you look at me.” He cups you like warm wax and you're melting just the same, gaze sliding up to meet his. Brown, glinting gold as they catch the orange lamplight, his eyes don't leave you. “You need to come?”

Your mouth drops. You really fucking do. If he notices your slip—the way your hips still on his lap, your arms wound tight around his shoulders—he doesn't say nor soothe. “Joel, I didn’t mean to—”

He quiets you with a loving nip at your chin. “You wanna be a good girl?”

A shudder railroads down your vertebrae. Your core is tight, hot, your little pyjama shorts shifting over your pussy, velvet-soft. “Joel, you really don't have to—”

“You wanna come?” he says again, his teeth scraping the shell of your ear before he takes your lobe between them. You gasp, clutching him tight to you, a buoy bobbing above the torrent.

“Yes,” you tell him, breathless, letting him play with the waistband of your shorts. “Yes. I need to come so badly. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m a bad man, takin’ my girl for granted.”

It’s not true, he’d never, has not once, and still you whimper at the sound of my girl on his tongue.

“You are a bad man,” you tell him, halfheartedly shoving him in the chest.

“And?” he prompts, drawing the poison from the wound.

“And I need to come.”

Joel’s mouth curves in understanding, the hairs of his moustache bristling in the corners.

“Take ‘em off,” he says. “Let me be good to you.”

You ease your thighs out of your silk shorts, and Joel’s got his hands on your shirt, lifting it up and over your head. A cool shiver snakes from your cool feet, now on the floor as you stand naked before him, to the scruff of your neck. It longs for the touch of his fingers.

“God, you're fuckin’ beautiful.” Joel takes your outstretched hand, tugging you toward him. His palms smooth over the planes of your torso, thick fingers fitting to your ribs, the follower at the altar. It's only when he touches the small of your back that his eyes abstain from their reverent path across your body and meet yours.

“Tell me what you want,” he says plainly, fingers catching at the ends of your hair.

You crowd him, gaze sweeping down his body at the hard length of his cock down his thick thighs and the utter stillness of him when met with your type-A jitters.

“To be your good girl,” you say.

“I know.” It's a whisper in the quiet. Somewhere, distantly, the dishwasher churns through its cycle. A car horn blares. Wind blows. “Sit down.”

You go eagerly to him, your spirit alight with his closeness, the scent of pine and sawdust from a long day’s work, the soft cotton of his flannel, the scrape of his denim along your thighs. Wordlessly, Joel shifts you until you're straddling one of his thighs.

The jolt of pressure to your clit makes you gasp, clawing for purchase on his chest. Your fists wrap around the lining of his flannel.

Oh, God is the vague chant that eats at his liver, chewing on the ripe mass, the wound sealing over to deliver himself once again at your feet. It’s tossed into the space between you, maybe a little blasphemous, maybe thoughtless. It’s the glassy film over your eyes, those irises he could trace in the dark, the call of love that never quiets.

“Feel good?”

The smug bastard. His hand is still soft and sweet on your spine, climbing high only to drop, no longer meeting the resistance of clothing. The cool air puckers your nipples, your body tightening as you pull in on yourself.

“You remember that first night?” he says softly, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You were so cold, baby. All alone and needin' a good strong hand.”

He squeezes your ass, forcing your hips to shift over his leg. The slow grind of your wet seam along the coarse denim makes your thighs tremble. “Fuck,” you whisper. “That's… that’s good.”

He hums like he knows. “You remember what you did that night?” he asks. “Climbed on me, just like this, and made yourself feel good. Thought I’d come in my pants then and there.”

Your breathless laugh hitches in your throat as your hips begin to grind down of their own volition. The friction is rough, unkind, nothing like the gentle press of his hands on your bare skin. Sweat begins to glisten in the hollow of your throat as you throw your head back and lose yourself in the rhythmic roll of your body over his thigh.

“That's it,” he grunts, squeezing your hips, his cock twitching, untouched, in his boxers. You’re smearing your wetness over the denim, washing it dark, letting the light shift over your writhing body. “That's my pretty girl, usin’ me like you need to.”

“Ah, fuck,” you cry out, bearing down the weight of you on his leg, grinding hard against him as you seek your own pleasure.

“Let's hear it,” he urges, gritting his teeth at the sight of your poor swollen clit, needy and glistening, exposed. “Lemme have it, baby girl, c’mon.”

Your moan is strangled, language muddied in your head as Joel surges upright and latches his mouth around your nipple. Biting and sucking raw, his rapacious mouth is warm nectar that pools hot in your belly, his hands coaxing your hips through their movements, guiding you in the dance nonetheless.

“I'm your good girl,” you rasp, the coil pulling tight at the base of your stomach, the hollow bowl filling to the brim, keeping him, coveting him.

“That's right. My good girl.” His hot breath blooms like possessive fingers where his mouth makes contact on your throat, plucking your nerve endings like a bushel of daisies.

“I can feel you, baby girl,” he groans into your throat. “I can feel your tight fuckin’ cunt gettin’ me all wet. Feel you grabbin’ me like a goddamn cat. You close, huh?”

You whimper, your nails scratching at his chest through the fabric of his shirt, your stomach taut as you approach your high, bucking your hips hard against his leg. “Fuck, Joel, fuck! I’m so close—”

“Tell me who you are.”

“I’m a good girl.” You wind your arms around his neck as you begin to list, your breasts pressing into his chest, closeness sparking to flame as your warmth rubs up against him.

He’s steadfast, thick arms holding you upright, as he groans your name into your ear like it's something blasphemous. “Who are you?” he repeats.

“I’m your good girl, Joel! Fuck, I’m yours, your good girl. Oh, God, Joel, please…”

“That's right, sweetheart.” His hand latches around the nape of your neck, slick with sweat, while you bury your face in his throat. “My good girl’s gonna come all over me again, because that's what good girls do, hmm? They make themselves feel good when their bad men go and forget their place.”

You sob his name into the crook of his neck, the friction etching too much into your sore, rubbed-raw flesh. Your thighs hug him tight, hips thrashing hard above him as you come with a shout, your wet mouth dragging along the vein pulsing in his throat and trailing saliva in its wake. Joel doesn’t seem to care, coaxing you through your high when it starts to last a little longer than normal, pulling you so close that you can hardly remember your shape when it’s not slotting into him.

There's a dark spot spreading over his jeans, and your inner thighs are sticky with release. Joel tilts your chin up with his mouth, littering kisses from your jaw to the hollow of your throat. His tongue darts out playfully as his fingers dip between your bodies and tease through your messy slit.

“Joel,” you gasp, your face warm. He lifts two soaked fingers to his mouth and cleans them off with a couple swirls of his tongue.

And he's kissing you before you can retreat into yourself. He turns you inside-out, bares your soul to him, and all you can do is taste the sweet tang of the release you gave yourself.

Your tongues tangle, languid in your mutual exploration, the push-and-pull you've always known. By the time he pulls away to press his lips to your forehead, you're decently sleepy, your muscles gooey and your body slumping sideways in his lap.

“Ruined your jeans,” you mumble.

His fingertips ghost up and down your spine. A cool shudder blooms from each point of contact. He’s still hard, enough that it must ache, but he makes no move to free himself. “I like ‘em this way,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Such an idiot.”

Clicking his tongue, Joel says, “You treat your elders this way?”

You nip his nose. “Only when they’re sweet on me.”

He chuckles, brushing your hair behind your ear so he can kiss your temple. “You feel okay?”

Your hands slide up his chest, hooking around his neck, your fingers threading together in his hair. “I feel like a million bucks, baby. But next time, you can come inside me.”

The purr registering in your chest has him preening under the attention, his hands coming to rest just above your ass. “I’m gonna tell you what’s going to happen tonight,” he says, ignoring your apprehensive glare. “You're gonna put away your books, and eat a good dinner, which I’ll make, and you’ll rest.”

Your Joel is stubborn in his own way, and it shows in the tension above his brow, the splaying of his hand over your back. You reach for him and smooth out his frown with your thumb. “I’ll do whatever you say, Joel Miller. As long as you make my favourite.”

You could drown happily in the way he smiles. It always comes on slow, like he isn't quite sure of himself, but it will glow in his eyes. It will sing through him like a light through glass.

“Yeah,” he says, “I can do that.”

Your blood calls to him. And you could do it all without him, sure—but he won’t let you.

THE END.

#posting this and running #kiwisbell's fics #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #whiskey sour #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff

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starlitmark · 5 months

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𝑨𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒛 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒆𝒙𝒉𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅

Summary: You've had enough of being at this familial social event... here's how the boys would comfort you. Pairing: Ateez x gn!reader (individually) Tropes: established relationship au Genre: fluff, slight angst Rating: PG Warnings: emotional exhaustion, mentions of illness, crying Word Count: 70-80 per member Note: thank you to @stardragongalaxy @anyamaris and @sanjoongie for looking over this <3 this may be a bit extremely self-indulgent after Thanksgiving

Before You Interact

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒘𝒂

Quitely checks in on you

When you just nod silently, he goes to get your jackets and announces that you’ll be leaving

During your trip home, he holds your hand

By the time you get home, he knows you need a bit of space and lets you know where he’ll be, but still offers little things incrementally that may help out a bit

𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒈

Immediately notices something off with you

He gives you a specific look

You’re off in space somewhere mentally, and he immediately takes you home

He knows you don’t want to be fully alone, so coexist in your living room together while you recuperate from the day (with added reassuring looks and holding your hand)

𝑱𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒖𝒏𝒉𝒐

Doesn’t say a word but starts rubbing your back in comforting motions

Knows it’s time to go when you drop your head against his shoulder

He kisses your hair lightly and lets you know he’s going to collect your things

Doesn’t say a thing but cuddles you as long as you need when you get home

𝑲𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒆𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈

Doesn’t even tell anyone you’re leaving… he just takes you home

He gives you a concerned look and asks if you need anything

You start snapping at him, and he knows you just need some space for a bit

He quietly does little things to help you out, and when you’re ready, you cuddle up in his lap he doesn’t say anything and just lets you relax

𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒊 𝑺𝒂𝒏

Quietly finds one of your family members and tells them you’re not feeling well

It’s not a lie it’s not his fault they think you’re physically ill

He makes you some tea when you get home and cuddles up with you on the couch

Immediately reassures you and validates what you’re feeling

𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒊

Honestly, he didn’t even process you hit your emotional wall until you dismissed yourself

He seeks you out and asks if you’re okay

When you break down, he holds you for a while you cry it out

As soon as you calm down again, he gets the car for you to sit in and relax while he collects your things

𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒐𝒐𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈

He’s completely unaware of your state because he’s busy talking rather loudly with your cousin

He only realizes when he goes to ask you something, and you’re just not in your seat anymore

He immediately panicked and went searching (he found you on the back porch silently sipping tea)

Made it up to you by cuddling you and let you do whatever you need to recover from the exhausting day with little jokes to try to cheer you up

𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒊 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐

He didn’t even need to do anything he just knew

When you hit your emotional wall, he already has your coat ready, and the car started

He got your favorite blanket and some chill music playing the moment you’re back home

You end up breaking down after everything still, and he just quietly holds you while you do what you need to calm down (which may or may not include a nap or holding you really close overnight)

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @jaehunnyy @ericssmile @almondmilkeu @shinestarhwaa @northerngalaxy

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double-aa-batteries · 2 years

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sometimes you will not feel ok and that's ok

sometimes you will want to do anything but be alive and that's ok

you are allowed to feel this way

your pain is real and i see it and you're allowed to be in pain

just know this feeling will not last forever

listen to me please. you will not feel like this forever. one day you will be ok. and one day you will be happy.

take my hand. we will get to one day together

#feelings #sad #how should i tag #help #feel ok again #encouraging #does this count as encouraging #?#your feelings are so valid dude #so are mine #we are all allowed to feel here #this is a feelings pisitive blog #ok ill stop now sorry

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mieczyslawsravenclaw · 2 months

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Eidetic Memory Be Damned -Spencer Reid

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•Pairing - Spencer Reid x FemFBIAgent!Reader

•Rating - 18+, Minors DNI - Smut - NSFW!!!

•Summary/Prompt - Spencer is tired of only having the memory of you to enjoy during his spicy times , so he just has to intrude into your hotel room after a case is finished…

•Warnings/Content - p in the v unprotected (hey kids- DONT DO IT) ; cursing ; Spence loves to beg to nut in you and does so ; creampie ; some pain play? (just a lil hand on the throat dealio and some hair pulling) ; LOTS of praise on both sides (good boy, pretty girl, etc) ; very mf horny lol ; (basically they do just about everything from first base to last bestie slay)

•Word Count - 3.3k

•Authorʼs Note(s) - Iʼm so mf rusty at writing smut so this is probs not the best, I just wanted to write some Spencer spice cause I had a spicy dream about him lmao RIP >_< Also this'll be my first official post of my writing on Tumblr slayyyyy

•Additional Tags - Switch!Spencer , Switch!Reader , Spencer is a needy brat LMAO , Team has ‘no ideaʼ you two are hooking up (Be so mf fr they do) , Good aftercare is so valid , Spencer loves being cuffed and teased muahaha

As much as this last case had taken out of me, I was more than happy to get to spend some time in my hotel room while the jet refueled and everyone got their bearings. Itʼs not home - far from it, Iʼd been missing my own bed for the majority of our time here in whatever state it was now - but at least it was something.

But of course, the reprieve wouldnʼt last long - a sharp knock on my door confirmed that, about 20 minutes after Iʼd laid down to sleep.

“What…ˮ I groan, frustratedly looking over at the clock.

The knock, again, more persistent this time. And I recognize its pattern now, three short tap-taps. Spencer.

My heartbeat, despite my minor annoyance at being woken up, is hammering now. Spencer seems to do that to me, from the moment Iʼd realized I have feelings for him, carrying into whatever it is that we are now. Secret trysts that Iʼm sure are no secret to our team members, especially Garcia, because sheʼd pried it out of me almost immediately and now waits in her dark little room with nothing else but excitement for the latest updates on us, it seems.

“Are you awake?ˮ A gentle but still much-too-loud voice asks.

I tumble out of bed, rushing to the door. I donʼt even have time to make sure I look okay - Iʼm much too worried about anyone else hearing him. The door is unlocked and pulled open in record time, a stunned lanky man quickly and semi-quietly forced inside.

“Spence, someoneʼs gonna hear you if you keep on like that.ˮ I chastise him, shutting and locking the door behind us. No sooner have I done so, than his lithe form overtakes me, nestling into the crook of my neck with a groan that seems both relieved and not relieved at all.

“Donʼt care,ˮ He pushes me back, until my legs meet the mattress and fold. Quickly following on top of me, he sighs, “Been too long. I miss you. You know I have an eidetic memory, yeah? Doesnʼt mean shit when Iʼm up late and even thoughts of you arenʼt enough to keep me satiated.ˮ

“Someoneʼs gonna-ˮ Hear, I want to say. He knows, of course he does. And Iʼm only half-complaining, with his lips at my neck and his leg sneaking up between mine the way he also knows.

“Donʼt care.ˮ He repeats, the low moan at the back of his throat breaking through into the silent room. “I told you I miss you. Should I tell you about what I use my memory for? And just how much that hasnʼt been enough lately? Or should I show you?ˮ

Itʼs clearly a rhetorical question, but still, he seeks the permission I am more than happy to grant.

“Tell me. Uh, show me. I mean-ˮ

“I can do both,ˮ Even in the dark, I know heʼs got that matter of fact smirk on his lips. He reaches down, holding me by the hip with one hand while the other slips into my pajamas, a practiced motion heʼs all too good at by now. “Usually this is what I remember first. The way your skin feels, how nice it is to make you tremble beneath my touch.ˮ

I buck up, and he chuckles.

“All too eager, arenʼt you? Clearly youʼve been thinking about it too, huh, pretty girl?ˮ A pointed question he knows Iʼll struggle to answer, with his hand and his voice torturing me so.

“No eid- identical- uh, no memory recall whatever for me.ˮ

“Still wouldnʼt satiate, I bet.ˮ He remarks, casually rubbing circles and patterns over my panties. This is how he operates, surely and with no warning. A gentle but firm kiss to my jaw, and he continues, “Itʼs like that for me, at least. I know no amount of recalling how you feel under me will be enough to match just how nice it is.ˮ

Heʼs right, and of course he is; I can barely handle the teasing, the tone his voice has taken in this short amount of time. And I currently dont care if weʼre heard, either.

“Spence-ˮ

“What is it, sweetheart? Too much for you? Not enough?ˮ

“Please?ˮ

“Words, honey. Youʼve gotta use your words. Or you can show me, Iʼm okay withthat too.ˮ He guides my hand down to his.

“More.ˮ I plead, working to undress myself before his hands take over.

“You only have to ask.ˮ

True to his word, Spencer pulls the fabric away, no longer allowing it to be a block between us. Itʼs lost somewhere in the sheets as he kisses me, his practiced hands no longer in the mood to tease. He slips a finger in, and when I let out a keening whine, another, his free hand going automatically to my mouth.

“Now as much as I say I donʼt care, youʼve gotta be a little quiet for me,ˮ He goads, knowing this will only make it harder for me to do so. His breath is hot in my ear, his fingers working a motion thatʼs both breaking pent up weeks old frustration, and yet causing more tension in my belly. “Much as I love your voice. Your sounds. The-ˮ

I rut up against him, my lips opening around his thumb. He works it into my mouth, his voice lowering even further.

“Cmon, show me how much you missed me, huh, princess?ˮ

I moan, words lost in my mind as it spins. Every tug of his fingers between my thighs is building a high Iʼm chasing, and when I get to this point, Iʼm not talking - he is. And he knows it, knows the right words to say to build and break me.

“This is what Iʼm after, this is what I canʼt just remember. Because itʼs all too much to remember how good it feels to destroy you.ˮ

Please, please. I canʼt hold off much longer.

“Now are you gonna cum for me, sweetheart?ˮ

I nod, lips opening and letting his hand free from my mouth as my breaths grow heavy. “Canʼt - Please, Spence, please-ˮ

He presses me further into the mattress, murmuring sweet and dirty nothings into my ear as the dam breaks and I ride my high. Iʼm far too sensitive following, and when I try to push him away for a moment, allow myself to collect some sort of reprieve before we continue, he chuckles lowly.

“See, I can recall that clear as day. But itʼs so much sweeter to have it happening in front of me, you know?ˮ He nestles in beside me, turning me to face him.

Nigh immediately, Iʼm reaching for his belt buckle. Of course he wouldnʼt have changed into comfortable clothes, not even this late- Iʼm sure this was his plan all along, and he tried to fight it as long as he could.

“Someoneʼs eager.ˮ He quips, the smirk growing.

“Youʼve got me thinking about it,ˮ I sigh, letting him maneuver himself out of the constricting clothing. “Coming over and getting me all hot and bothered. I really ought to…ˮ

“Ought to what?ˮ He goads, pulling me onto him with a low noise as we brush together. “Hmm? Are you gonna say…you ought to punish me?ˮ

I nod, rubbing back against him. He lets out a moan, hands gripping my hips tighter.

“I remember how that feels,ˮ He pulls me closer, voice dropping. “But for your sake, maybe you should refresh me.ˮ

When he reaches for me again, I pull back, pinning his hands down above his head. I know he could get out of it if he really wanted to - Iʼm strong, but not stronger than him - but he most certainly doesnʼt want to get out of it. And Iʼm enjoying it far too much to stop myself now.

“Whatʼre you gonna do, cuff me?ˮ He snaps, the bratty attitude far too practiced and already making me a soaking mess.

“I might.ˮ I reach for my pair, knowing all too well that heʼll absolutely lose it once I let go on him. I can hardly stand the anticipation. “Scared, Reid?ˮ

“Terrified. Please, donʼt. Iʼve been a good boy, I swear.ˮ

I push him back while he pleads, tightening the metal around his wrists. The look on his face, muffled as it is by the darkness of the room, is more than enough to spur me on.

“Not thinking about this at all, huh?ˮ I shed my top, if only for the knowledge that his inability to reach for my breasts drives him utterly insane. “And Iʼm sure you havenʼt spent many late nights with the memory of me riding you, have you? Havenʼt had your hands on that pretty cock of yours, thinking about how it feels when itʼs me, yeah?ˮ

“N-Not at all.ˮ

“Itʼs a shame, then.ˮ I tease, feeling him harden beneath me with every word. “Iʼll have to make you confess, I suppose.ˮ

His eyes follow my every move as I back up, slotting between his legs and bending down to kiss along his hips.

“Youʼll never get it out of me.ˮ He groans.

“Is that a promise or a challenge?ˮ I ask, not breaking eye contact as I place a kiss on his sensitive head.

“Challenge? Would I…challenge you?ˮ He still holds onto a moment of sanity, until I take him in my mouth, and itʼs lost with a sigh of, “Oh, would I.ˮ

I bob my head, my practiced motions coming in handy now. The usually-full-of- remarks Spencer Reid folds under my touch, soft deep moans and babble of confessions and wish I could pull your hair passing his lips while I work him out.

After a few moments of this, I let him free - at least from the torture of my lips.

“Where are you going? Please, I wanna cum for you, Iʼll tell you everything I did while I couldnʼt stand to wait for you.ˮ He keens.

“Oh, Iʼm far from done with you, Spence.ˮ I slowly, agonizingly slowly, climb back on top of him, making sure to back right up against him as he tightens against the cuffs. “Donʼt you worry, Iʼll have every measly confession pouring from you. You know I will.ˮ

“Please, let me out- Gotta touch you, I just gotta-ˮ

“Shh, be good for me, wonʼt you?ˮ I lift myself over his face, pressing my folds to his lips. “Unless you wanna stay in those forever.ˮ

He shakes his head, vibrating a ‘noʼ against me.

“Good. Now youʼre gonna pay your dues and clean up the mess youʼve made.ˮ

Eagerly, he laps at me like heʼs never had it before. His utter submissiveness overwhelms him, letting me ride his face to my hearts content. Words are muffled and entirely lost in it, and I know by now that the sounds Iʼm making alone will be heard, but I donʼt really care. Iʼm too far gone in how good it feels to finally have him making me cum again.

“Can I touch you now?ˮ

I slide back onto him, teasingly letting myself rest with just the edge of him pressing into my folds.

“Can you?ˮ I look pointedly at his wrists.

“I-oh, my god, clearly not, but-ˮ

“How about this?ˮ I amend. “You give me a confession, you get a reward. Sound fair?ˮ

“Yeah, sounds just fine. I couldnʼt get off without coming here, you realize that, donʼt you? Youʼre the only thing that gets me off anymo-Oh-ˮ His confession is cut short as I slide him a bit further in, just enough to spur him further. “I mean, I get off, donʼt get me wrong here. But nothing feels as good as when itʼs with you. Nothing.ˮ

“Keep going, youʼre doing good.ˮ I praise, sinking a bit deeper.

“Goddamn you feel so good.ˮ He moans. “Like, my hands canʼt even come close to this, are you kidding? I can try all I want, and believe me, I have - Oh, my god, please donʼt stop - Iʼve been trying all the time, I admit that, canʼt hardly stand being around you and not being able to just fuck you whenever I want.ˮ

I push down further, the stretch he gives me loosing my own moan. “How much do you wanna fuck me, Spence? Tell me, please.ˮ

“God, all the time. Itʼs all I can think about when I get down to it - baby, can I please touch you now?ˮ

“Punishment is a bitch, isnʼt it, Reid?ˮ I smirk, starting to push him in and out of me, slowly and with a devious grin that falters at just how damn good it is.

“Baby, Iʼm gonna get outta these and fuck you so good-ˮ

“Try it.ˮ I raise an eyebrow, stopping my motions.

“Oh- No, Iʼm sorry, please donʼt stop. Iʼll be good, I promise.ˮ

“Yeah, you will.ˮ I drop as far as I can take him, savoring the stuttered animalistic groan he lets out as I press down onto him, pulling his hair and moving my hips around him. As he is want to do, heʼs thrusting up into me, even if heʼs unable to reach me with his hands held up as they are. “Eager, sweet boy. Iʼm gonna ruin you.ˮ

And ruin him, I do. The tension and heat in my belly rides and breaks several times, with him unable to form real words except for the continuous begging of please donʼt stop repeated on a loop until I feel Iʼm satisfied with his demeanor.

Once Iʼve tortured him enough, I reach for the cuffs, ready to let him off the leash - knowing that once I do, the balance will shift. Truthfully, Iʼm just eager to let him be true to his word and fuck me like heʼs been dying to.

“You donʼt need any more confessions from me, then?ˮ He huffs, sweat slicked across his brow from the effort of holding back - though heʼs not really done so, has he?

“One last one, I suppose.ˮ I pull off of him, and the pout he gives nearly makes me sit right back down on him again.

“Alright, Iʼll be good and honest with you, then.ˮ He continues while I set to unlocking the cuffs, “You know the other day, just after we got the final piece of evidence put together?ˮ

I nod.

ˮI was so psyched, I couldʼve taken you right there. I donʼt care that everyone would have known, would have seen. Itʼs just something you do to me.ˮ He finishes, his tone light. Oh boy, Iʼm about to get railed. “I love you. And now Iʼm gonna fuck you like Iʼve been wanting to for weeks.ˮ

No sooner is he free, tearing off the shirt he was wearing and looming over me with the hungriest of looks at my body before pressing himself into me. No wait, no teasing - heʼs not got the control for it, clearly, and Iʼm not complaining one bit.

“Next time, you get the cuffs, pretty girl.ˮ He promises, his hands all over my body now that he can manage it. Hard, precise thrusts, his voice heavy and fucked-out.

“And Iʼll show you just what Iʼve been wanting to do that Iʼm gonna savor in my mind after.ˮ

My nails are leaving deep trails in his back, surely leading to marks that would raise questions if anyone else saw. Heʼs so far in me, almost bottomed out, and itʼs almost too much and yet not enough all at once. I pull him closer, and his hand tangles in my hair while the other clasps around my throat.

“Youʼre all mine.ˮ Spencer growls - truly, thereʼs not other word for it, the purely animal drive taking him to a world where itʼs just us, just this. And Iʼm there too, crying out with the ecstasy his body causes my own.

“All yours.ˮ

“Thatʼs right, pretty girl. Say it for me, I wanna hear you say it.ˮ

“Iʼm all yours, Spence- oh, my god-ˮ

“Good, thatʼs good. My pretty girl. Youʼre so tight, you feel so good wrapped around me, donʼt you? God, what a sight.ˮ Here he is, in his rambles now, and I can hardly contain how close I am. “Wanna tell everyone this is mine. Iʼm the only one that gets to have you, gets to fuck you like this. See you break for me. Only me.ˮ

“Only you, Spence, only you-ˮ

“Cʼmon, I know youʼre close, I can feel it. You get so much tighter, god, if itʼs even possible-ˮ

“Spencer-ˮ

“Thatʼs my girl, cum for me.ˮ

“Donʼt stop-ˮ I can feel the cord in me ready to snap, chasing my most intense orgasm of the night with his words and the feeling of him slamming so deep inside me. “More, Spence, you can give me more-ˮ

“Sweet girl, of course, I know you can handle it.ˮ He pushes himself fully in, my breath catching at the slight pain, yet itʼs still so good, I canʼt stop it, I donʼt want to. “Want me to fuck you so good with all of me, donʼt you?ˮ

I nod against his grasp, and he loosens it a bit, kissing me fervently.

“Please, please cum for me, I wanna feel you all over me, beautiful.ˮ He reaches down, his thumb rubbing circles on my clit. Itʼs the last thing I need to send me over that edge, and I cry out, his name slipping past my lips unwarranted. “Oh, baby, love how you say my name. Like itʼs a prayer, like Iʼm a god.ˮ

“Donʼt stop, Spence-ˮ

“Iʼm close, baby- Oh, I wanna cum in you-ˮ

Another orgasm follows near immediately after this one, and Iʼm grasping at him while heʼs chasing his own, his hands fumbling and his thrusts getting sloppy. He grips the sheets, his breaths stunted.

“Cum in me, please-ˮ

“Iʼm gonna, god, Iʼm so fuckinʼ close-ˮ He tightens around me, muscles shaking as he lets loose, and now itʼs his turn to moan my name a lot louder than he should while he cums. Heʼs so pretty when he does, too - the crease that works between his brows, the round pucker to his lips. Partly through, he kisses me, hard. And when heʼs done, his grip loosens, falling slack on top of me with a contented sigh.

A few moments pass where he just holds me, peppering soft kisses across my face and telling me you did such a good job, baby. Then, he pops up with a smile and comes back with water and a towel, cleaning up after himself.

“Satisfied?ˮ I chuckle, slowly pulling my clothes back on.

“Almost.ˮ He dips his head down, capturing a nipple in his mouth for a few moments. I groan, overstimulated, but still too happy to appease him. “Now, Iʼm satisfied. Iʼm staying in here, okay? Donʼt care if someone sees at this point.ˮ

“Spence?ˮ

“Mmhm?ˮ

“I love you, too.ˮ

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #sub!spencer reid

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satocidal · 5 months

Text

—RING RING!!

Say hello to our Operator Number One, and A Fan-Favourite:

── .˳⁺⁎˚ This caller seems to be into Humiliation and Generalised Behaviour of a Male Thot

── .˳⁺⁎˚ Geto Suguru — Starring in ⌞Valedicktorian⌝

Synopsis: your favourite academic rival, he wants to respect you, he really does—but he just prefers seeing you cry more.

— Word count: 5.4k

— A/n: I know I know, we all love a cocky lil shit that my man is <3 and tagging @romiyaro @blkkizzat @driaswrld becauseeee I can <3333 (+this was supposed to be way longer but haha)+i know it's supposed to be more smut and kinky than story line but :( I apparently cannot do that

— Warnings: Smut!!MDNI!!AFAB! Fem Reader x Suguru; teasing on both parts; dubious methods of going along a lot of things; Suguru is almost like a soft Dom; hints at spitting; Suguru eats reader out through her panties; reader almost gives Suguru a strip tease or smn like that; Suguru is a cocky bitch; emphasis on academic validation somewhat; smut begins late; reader is a virgin; Oral (fem receiving)

~November Beginning~

[8:03 a.m.]

Your eyes scanned the board fast, alone you stood towards the first corner—aware all too well you’d never even fall below

the first row.

Rank Marks Allotted

Y/n L/n [Valedictorian] 97/100

Suguru Geto [Salutatorian] 91/100

You didn’t bother lowering your eyes any further—a huge grin remained etched on your smile as you rocked back and forth about your Position, waiting for him to drop by.

Eyes flitted simply through the screen of your phone—mindless swipes, mindless likes passed on Instagram as you patiently, a whole wait of 7 minutes, you counted—how so very careless.

You beamed as his silhouette came into view, and his best friend’s right beside—lanky, they both stood, you never cared enough.

“You’re late,” you murmured as he shoved past you—an audible grown let out even though he just knew with the way you stood, that he was beat again.

But this time the difference stood of a worthy 6 points—just 6, how easily that he could’ve had you.

Satoru simply cackled beside him—indulging you with the very complicated handshake he and you had designed in the first year of your college.

“You're both stupid,” he, satoru, grinned, “I barely passed and that's so sick,” you simply chuckled at his words—joy emerging more so at Suguru’s annoyance.

“You’ve got the scholarship from your football team Toru’, unfortunately for us—6 marks make a huge difference,”

“6 marks don't matter,” Suguru grumbled, a frown lay upon his lips — “we’re not kids-”

“-except you will cry like a kid when you go back to your dorm because 6 points was what stopped ya from Rank 1,”

A smirk you bore—he wanted to drill it out of you so bad.

“The only crying that goes off in my dorm are the girls I bring about,” he smirk was his this time, your face twisted in disgust.

“And had you spent that time actually studying maybe you'd have gotten somewhere—and is that a confession that you’re that bad a fuck?”

He was tall, but the certain way he towered over most was amusing–not you though, never you.

Equals, in most senses of the word.

“But then,” you continued, and grinned wide—“don't suppose two minutes could've saved you from anything.”

A brow he raised, “you've been learning insults from middle schoolers—and what would your virgin ass even know?”

Jaw clenched you stared, Suguru Geto had realized your insecurity quick back in the first year—exploiting to all ends possible.

“Maybe you should try learning from them, gonna help you with grades and STDs,” a thin smile you wore, a thin smile he did too.

“At the end of the day, we both get the same grade, same gpa and probably the same job offers,” he paused—staring at your face—you took your chance, “And yet you’ll always remember that I was the one that beat you to the first place.”

A wink you passed, a clenched jaw he stilled.

—.—.—

[1:10 p.m.]

The semester was finally over—Satoru’s parties galore.

A tradition almost, celebration of his, scoring marks enough to pass—an ‘ode’ he deemed it, to you and Suguru for tutoring him together.

More so just an attempt to to spew you both together, failing just as always.

“You’re gonna show up tonight doll?” Satoru asked—eyes staring at your face from beneath—head placed in your lap, feet in Suguru’s lap as you both read books that couldn’t have been more neglected when the tension between the two fell so high. .

A hummed you passed, “Will you let me say no?”

A snort Satoru let out, answer all too obvious.

You sighed, “Tonight, sure but I have some projects to catch up and-”

“-perfect,” Satoru interrupted, all to your annoyance, “hm?”

“Suguru has some remaining too, right?”

Interested piqued slow and with a topic that deepened his natural frown, he—Suguru stared at you.

“I’m in mood for help from her,”

Eyes narrowed, you scowled, “yes well I’m not offering any either ways,”

“Not like you could,”

“Says the- ah!”

A sharp yelp you couldn’t help when Satoru pinched your side in midst of your banter—Something in Suguru found the noise adorable—he hated this little something, “excuse you?”

“You wouldn’t shut up otherwise, right?” A bashful smile he held, and so it happened you just couldn’t hold him guilty, an eye roll and you paused.

“Whatever, I’ll show up tonight but don’t hold me up for the rest of the week ok?”

“As you wish, doll,” a sharp edge Satoru held to his words, invoking a sense of alert in both you and Suguru—neither daring to consult the other.

[7:55 p.m.]

“And who exactly are we wearing this piece for huh?” Shoko’s eyes fell on you hard—“Who’s got you that hooked?”

A roll of your eyes, “Just wanted to feel cute is all,” you muttered under your breath—and that was mostly true.

It’s wasn’t such that you’d found someone, nor were you dressing to impress, but then, it was out of spite in some sense.

His words rang in your head- in wasn’t an insult really, being a virgin was fine, it was ok, but you hated even the littlest ‘advantage,’ that he could hold on you.

And so you trudged it on, the little black skirt that Satoru gifted you, so small you’d initially kept it only as a joke—and oh how the turn tables.

The top wouldn’t stand any better at all, almost sheer it lay—a floral print to keep what little of your modesty you wanted to show.

Pathetic and desperate, you called yourself, for turning about so easily—pathetically desperate however, you wanted Suguru to be.

[8:15 p.m.]

A step into his mansion, a wolf whistle greeted you.

“Shut up Satoru,” you mumbled, a shy smile playing on your lips—almost guilty, “I know it’s not for me, so who’re you dressed to impress?”

A heat caught up slow on your face at Satoru’s words.

Your eyes landed on Suguru who came sauntering just beside him—jaw clenched at just the sight of him, the perfect way his jean jacket clung to him, “And why couldn’t I dress up for you?”

Satoru’s smirk only grew, all too aware of the hostility and the sexual tension that Suguru and you’d fostered—his biggest mystery lying in the way that it was third year of your college degree and you still hadn’t fucked the lights of each other.

A wink, charismatic, most would say, “because you know I prefer you without anything on princess,”

Had you not known Satoru you’d have probably been disgusted, but wonderous what two years of being together did to a person and their adaptations—and you wondered just why you hadn’t adapted to his black haired best friend.

A soft punch on his arm, you shook your head with a smile, “Really though, you look gorgeous—right Suguru?”

Your eyes moved slow, hesitant almost to meet his, “Yeah sure,” he shrugged casually, and just a little your heart hurt too.

Pathetic.

“You don’t look half bad,” you spoke still, adamant to be the bigger person—adamant to have something going.

He eyed you for a second, then another—a scoff, “what’s up with that top? Fix it please- you look like a slut,”

Silence, the music blaring almost stunned out.

Your face burned, heart all the more—a baffled “what?” Escaped your lips—and possibly Satoru’s, you weren’t sure

You weren’t sure if anything there on..

A roll of his eyes caught you off guard further, heart beat racing despite you when he leaned a little towards you, “if you’re going to try dressing like a prostitute, carry it with confidence��do you have any idea how many guys have been staring? Your boobs are practically falling from in there,”

You hated it, hated his words, his demeanor, his proximity—the way you almost found it endearing that he looked away when you tried your best to fix it, the way he almost ‘shielded’ you from anyone looking at you weird.

You hated it all.

“I don’t need you to ‘watch out’ for me,” you spat—Satoru lay forgotten in the moment, maybe he’d slipped moments ago—had he been there at all?

“Not looking out for you doll, just sayin it doesn’t suit ya,” you wanted to thank the dimmed down lighting, your tears were at the brink of falling, you wanted to punch him.

“What would you know what suits me and what doesn’t,” shaky a voice, drowned by the loud music—a smirk Suguru adorned, “think your rival would pay enough attention on you to know what suits you and what doesn’t,” his grinned only ever widened as he stepped back to stand beside you, “but sure, you do look fuckable,”

Jaw clenched, your eyes stared at each other, “whatever,” a shrug you passed, retired.

“Wait,” and wait you did, persistently at his words, “I’m assuming you don’t know most people here, given you’re the pretty nerd-”

“-do you have anything of material to say or should I go?”

The annoyance lay naked, so did the hurt in your voice.

Suguru was perceptive, perfect in the way his eyes trailed down your body, “I’m just saying, tag along with me—don’t want no accidents happening to my nerd,”

“You’re a nerd too,” a scoff, yours, “that’s what you caught from the whole statement?” A chuckle, his.

You bit the inside of your cheek hard, a mindless nod as you let him hold your hand, unsure of it entirely but never more certain that it was the right thing.

His nerd.

[8:45 p.m.]

“You drink?” A shake of your head and a sigh, his, “Really are a goody two shoes huh?”

A scoff you passed at his words, “Nothing goody two shoes about it, just that I don’t like the taste and-”

A snort interrupted you, “Pardon, the taste? Alright then, let me order my doll a strawberry milkshake,”

Your scrunched face only ever helped his face concort with laughter further, “I’m not your doll, or nerd or nothing. Don’t call me yours.” yours Words all too defiant, he smirked.

“Eh?” A pause, heavy, “Don't remember hearing objection for when you’re with Satoru,”

You bit the inside of your cheek-how exactly could he make everything so tough?

“Satoru’s a friend,”

“I'm not?”

You grinned, the lighting lay dim—his smile a blur, as was yours — “You're nothing more than competition,”

A grin, his too, “Ouch—after we spend so much time?”

“What, you enjoy it? You're masochistic too huh?”

“If you're the one who's gonna be torturing me doll,” a wink he offered, you bit the inside of your cheek, as insufferable as always.

However before a retort would fall, before your grin would broaden, before his smirks would lighten—“Here’s your milk shake ma’am!”

An internal groan and a condescending little, “be a good girl and finish it all up for me doll,”

A groan- which bartender even agreed to make milkshakes? At parties? At night?

Your eyes scanned the tag he kept attached, Toji F.

[11:44 p.m.]

“Suguru,” your words were frenzied, grip tightening on his arm—eyes moving over the surrounding crowd, “I don’t wanna play,”

Drunk.

The usual it was, late the party started and ended up almost at the next morning, you could hear Satoru Hollering down in the background, eyes narrowed down onto the group of your peers that sat in a circle.

Truth and Dare, the tradition.

Everyone you laid eyes upon, drunk, you were sure Suguru himself stood slightly tipsy, saved for your sake entirely, “Cmon,” his words a drag, “It’s just truth and dare, what’s the worst that can happen?”

And you knew well, that was exactly how all the bad teenage movies began.

“Everything, please, let me go if you wanna continue, that’s alright-”

“-no, can’t let you go,” you smiled slightly at the little pout on his face, adorable he surely was when drunk.

“Yes you can, I can walk back from here you know-”

Sudden, all too sudden he pushed you slight, pinned to the wall.

Words interrupted by his weight shifting onto you, your eyes widened at the closeness- “Won’t let you go alone, too many creeps,” a sincere nod was all you could pass, mouth dry and heart racing—he smirked.

“You like this?”

A shake of your head—another pout from him.

“You lie too much,” he murmured against your form, a hand placed softly on your waist—never moving an inch—“you would do well with a round of truth and dare actually,”

You giggled at his words, heart racing fast still as his hot breath fanned over you, “What if I just choose dare?”

Closer, somehow, he only seemed to move closer.

“You’re too chicken to do that,”

“But what if?”

“Do you?”

“Maybe”

“Ok,” he paused—stepping back, “here’s child’s play for you,” the smile he held now was concerning in ways—you didn’t mind it, “I dare you that if I manage to score better than you in the next semester, you have yo do everything I say for a good one day,”

You couldn’t help the laugh you let out at that.

“You have a thing for losing huh?”

A scoff, an eye roll—why was everything from him gorgeous?

“It’s a dare babe, take it or leave it,”

“Sure thing Suguru,”

“Atta girl,”

—.—.—

The tension was held high, the second semester was to end soon—you weren't all so tensed for that, however something did bother you.

Suguru Geto, for the first time that your eyes had seen, was studying.

Day in and day out, the library was where most people would find you—not Suguru Geto, certified fucker of the batch.

“Pass me the book when you’re done please,” your eyes narrowed at the tone, so damn sweet , “please,” uttered so carefully, you wanted to punch him for no reason.

“Of course,” you smiled back politely, wanting to be anything but so.

your eyes flickered over to Satoru—grinning as he texted the girl he met at the party.

“Why don’t you teach Satoru a lil something too though? He could use your help,” it was a constant, you and your little comments, hell bent on distracting Suguru, hell bent on getting more study time than him—hell bent on winning that particular bet.

He’d been drunk, you were hoping he’d have forgotten—hopes always lay crushed, for in the certain way he grinned when he looked at you, it meant something, surely a promise of winning from him.

Suguru Hummed as he always did—hostility between the two of you hadn’t ebbed exactly but it was bearable—he made it bearable, simply readjustments.

Ever since the party, you weren’t sure if you liked the change or no.

You weren’t sure if it was because of the lies Satoru fed you about him wanting you — or the half truths Your heart screamed, of Suguru wanting to screw you.

However, not being rivals never equated to being friends—obvious in the way not even his begging had softened your heart to lend him your notes.

“Why don’t you? Seem pretty done with the outline of it,”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pertaining a gaze on you softly, he grinned, “Too busy to let a friend fail?”

A defiant ‘yes’ you muttered, eyes stuck on Suguru- adding a little, “we’re not friends,” but pausing as the long fingers moved, long fingers reaching out to give you a note—“what’s that?”

He grinned as he shrugged, but before you could open the little piece of paper, folded all so carefully, “ah ah ah,” he chuckled, “open it outside,”

And you did—walking away with a huf—decided that the library was no longer just your spot, not a glance shared with Satoru, focused all so much at the objective of hogging as much study material as you could for the exam.

A sharp inhale though, annoyance seeping in as you viewed the message on the white piece of paper, decorated with all so many hearts, “Good luck losing, doll-face.”

—.—.—

~Night before the Exam~

“You’re sick for this, you know,” Satoru’s words rang in his head, he scoffed, maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t.

How could it even matter?

The flashlight remained tucked between his arms, working, quick, eyes scanning over the question paper as he stood in the Dean’s Office.

Being a good student, trusted student of course had it perks—the security cameras just somehow malfunctioning could be no coincidence either.

And then again, he wouldn’t cheat a lot, just enough, just to beat you — just enough.

And so the next day, while your confident farce broke just a little to see him ask for more sheets than you, to see him write longer—to see him almost do the exam better than you, something told you that the bet wasn’t made in vain, Suguru Geto was a man of plans.

—.—.—

~1st December~

You were sure you’d left before him, before anyone—as always.

And yet, just the way your stomach twisted when you saw his figure standing by the notice board—his grinning face—that was all it took for you to realize that something wasn’t right.

“The fuck are you grinning for?” The nervousness was obvious—Suguru loved it.

“Mind the language love,” he mused—stepping aside, letting your eyes find their own horror.

Rank Marks Allotted

Suguru Geto [Valedictorian] 95/100

Y/n L/n [Salutatorian] 94/100

And oh how he loved the way your face fell, how he loved the green in your eyes and the red tint of your of your burning ears.

“The test was hard though so you know-” the glint of victory all so evident, “-shut up,” you huffed.

“Shut the fuck up—it’s just-”

“-just one mark? Yeah, no.” He snickered behind you, “and ah? Aren’t you the one supposed to be doing what I say? No more teetering me about, doll,” a wink, a shiver up your spine.

He wasn’t wrong.

“Whatever, what do you want? Laundry done or what? Breakfast-”

Suguru’s head tilted to the side, adorably, as if a puppy’s, “you think that’s bad? Oh jeez y/n,” he grinned, “somebody’s in for a surprise?”

And before the realizations of what something worse had to be, before a retort could befall your lips, Suguru Geto had spoken once more—voice defiant, “To my dorm, now.”

The wind around you was cold, yes but chilly was the sensation you felt down your spine.

The room was organised, books on the right shelf, mangas on the left—his family photo on the right corner of the desk and a poster of his favorite baseball team right in front.

Nothing you would ever find your room as—scrawled up notes lay shoved in every corner—silly gifts from friends and a pile of unwashed coffee cups.

The contrast was thorough.

Your eyes bore into his, his into your figure-“what do you- why are we here?”

Suguru glared for a second, “what did you think would happen when you lost?”

Not this.

Or, well.

You’d assumed Suguru would use his chance to embarrass you, thoughts were quick though, infested you sat through seconds and hours, days even—thoughts of Suguru Geto and your “humiliation”.

It wasn’t that you wanted to lose, but you wouldn’t have minded—and so a blind eye was all you had to offer when Satoru dropped the keys to the dean’s office—a deaf ear turned when you heard him bragging of the plan to his girls, a stifled laugh when Suguru smacked his head for talking too much.

But now that the situation lay bared, maybe, just maybe it wasn’t the best situation to be in.

Maybe, the nervousness finally crept into the skin—maybe, you realised, maybe you shouldn’t have.

Fortunately or not though, Suguru was perceptive as he was caring—somewhat, “Don’t be nervous, I’m not gonna- you know,” he grinned, thoughts pertaining to your imagination—you didn’t like where and why it lead to everything it did.

Suguru hummed as he walked about, you stood all so awkward in the middle of his room—a hand patted the space next to him on his bed, “come on up here doll,”

You didn’t want to, but oh how the feet moved before they could stop.

“I don’t want to,” he smiled, soft, “well, you do realize what I want, right?”

A gulp, “I’ve never-”

“-I know,” he paused, “I’m not gonna force you into it, only if you wanna-”

You did want to, hell if there was anyone you wanted to trust, it would forever be Suguru Geto somehow.

“What if I say no?”

“Then feel free to just lounge about, I’d love talking to you,”

Heart pace quickened, you licked your lips—“I thought you- you’d make me…”

“Not a monster doll, not gonna do nothing you don’t want,” and just then you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face too, fuck, you really were into him huh?

A bite of your lips, a giggle his—“I think…I think you’ve won fair and square,”

Another small giggle, and boy was everything he did adorable—“you know I cheated-” you bobbed your head, and oh how he was down bad for you too.

“C’mere,”

15 minutes in, you’d already taken off your rings—the rules of the game Suguru wanted you to play were simple.

“You’re too smart for your own good,” he’d chuckled, “but, s’not gonna help today,” a book lay in his hands— “I ask the questions and you answer, for every wrong answer you strip, take off one piece of clothing,”

A grin you passed, “of course,” you’d snickered—sitting across him.

“What is my favorite color?” A brow you raised, confused still as to why Suguru even bothered opening the book which read, “NEUROROBOTICS” when all he bothered asking were stupid questions with stupider answers.

“It’s…white? Or uh, blue?” Shots in the dark, all wrong—what pained you though were his answers—“nu uh,” he grinned, “take something off again, and better not tease me again,” you giggled.

The last two questions were just trivial as this, about him, and you’d answered them right too—except he just didn’t accept them at all.

You cursed internally, for skipping wearing socks because as of now you you were debating for the crucial options, the jeans or the top.

Suguru grinned, “my favorite color’s that though, you know when you blush,” you groaned at his words—chuckling along with him because frankly, when had you ever ‘blushed’ for him at all.

Your eyes moved fast, the top it was.

His eyes were sharp, stuck onto your form, pulled right over your head—Suguru was loving his day.

“White huh?” he grinned, your face burned at the way he stared at your Lacy white bra, “it is my favorite color after all,”

“Ask the next question” you snapped—hand reaching for a pillow to help yourself.

Suguru’s smile was soft, “ok, how about…how long have you wanted to fuck me?”

It physically made you uncomfortable to how hot the tip of your ears had gotten.

“No point lying, since we're both here to fuck anyways,”

You pursed your lips, it was true but then—“since the beginning of this year,”

Suguru chuckled at that, clicking his tongue—“the pants now?” your face dropped, it was risky—it would be a first, and with the way Suguru sat fully dressed, humiliating.

“I'm not lying-”

“Liar,”

“I'm not-”

“I'll make ya take off two pieces if you keep this up,”

Two- pants and either of your bra perhaps, or panties, neither seemed better than the other.

A retired ‘ok,’ you choked out, scoffing at how he smirked when your fingers moved in to pull the pants down, slow—“what's the correct answer?”

“The day you first saw me,”

You despised the way he was correct.

Pushed down your legs and thrown aside your pants lay—your eyes and Suguru’s, trailed up all the way to your calves.

“Matching set? You wanted this to happen hm?”

And you despised the experience and knowledge he had—his gaze remained stuck on the white Lacy panties you'd decided to wear.

For him.

How scandalous.

“Continue the game,” Suguru grinned—”how long have I wanted to fuck you?”

Your mouth ran dry—oh?

“The beginning of the semester?” you guessed, truthfully, heartbeat fastening when he smirked—”you have no idea how long I've wanted you here, like this,”

He stood close now, very close, his hand itself moving to unclasp your bra—warm breath fanning your face, “how long?” you whispered.

“Forever. Since I saw you,”

A giggle you let out—“you- no way, you simp,”

A giggle, his—“and there, you ruined the moment,”

A giggle, together.

“Let me see?” Suguru murmured, pulling away softly, slowly the pillow off of your form—finally, the bra pulled away too—his hands held your breasts softly.

You were sure though, the nervousness all too evident in your face, “easy, I'll take care of you,”

You passed a nod in response— biting your lips as the way his hands squeezed you, held you—his thumb rolling onto your nipples—half hardened they stood already in the chilly air of his room.

“You're damn gorgeous,” he whispered- lips pressed against yours, fingers massaging your boobs carefully, “fuck I- you've never?”

A swift shake of your head, “mm’ gonna corrupt you tonight ok?”

And just like that, pushed down to your back you lay, “spread your legs doll,”

And you did, pace fastening as he leaned into the spot between your legs, hand lingering on your inner thigh—“are you turned on?” the smirk on his face was telling, of course you were, “got turned on thinking what I would do to you? Aren't you just the cutest?”

You were inexperienced, sure, but you weren't going to let him tease you all so much-“hurry it up I- hah!”

Or maybe you would, you didn't know.

A soft gasp interrupted your words quick, two fingers pressed directly onto your pussy, prodding about, dancing slight as he tramped about your opening.

“You must've touched yourself?” the question itself felt sickening, you shouldn't have to tell him—“yes,” you mumble slowly, “ever thought about me?”

Another ‘yes’ indiscriminately fell off your lips.

Right at your position you saw him smile, dumbfounded when he whispered a ‘me too,’

Suguru’s other hand—fingers ran close circles on your thigh, “I won't go all the way tonight, you're scared and that's fine—” you gulped, reassurance flitting through you, “wanna make you feel good though,” and exactly as his sentence ended, he propped your legs all the way to his shoulders, despite all that he was doing, an almost innocent —“comfy?” he dropped in the name of formality.

“Relax,” he cooed, soft and gentle as he slowly leaned in, “you're in good hands ok?” your breath hitched still as the first lick came about, wetness spreading all the more than it already was—you were sure you’d never found yourself all so wet.

“Suguru- I- c-can't we do this without the-”

Without the panties—you were already wrecked for him.

A Cheshire smirk spread on his features from down below, “no, we'll go step by step, that's how the studious ones go, right?” you held back a moan when his fingers found your clit—rubbing slow circles, panties getting drenched in your own slick.

“Was that a moan doll?” his words suddenly caught up—a sharp slap landed on your pussy, eliciting a small cry, ”I wanna hear everything from you doll, every whimper, every cry and moan—everything,” you could only nod, and gasp slight as he dived in to press a kiss against your clothed folds.

“I'm so glad you're wearing white sweets,” a devilish grin his and an embarrassed squeak yours as he pinched your folds through your panties—drenched in result of his spit and licks and your own slick, completely see through.

And all throughout, Suguru was relentless in the way he spread apart your folds easily, peeking at the hints of your exposed cunt.

Fingers hooked to repeatedly rub your clit, so slow, never the right pressure or pace—snickering at how your mouth hung ajar, eyes drooping with pleasure.

Low pants and shy breaths only encouraged the raved haired boy still, sparing fingers and diving right in with his lips attached to your pussy lips and panties—tongue pushing against so obscenely against your hidden hole.

A sheepish grin he held, “Suguru,” you let out a broken sob, “please,”

The whine had him feeling back, looking up at you—eyes never Fuller, almost as if drunk in your juices, “hm?”

“Want more—pl-please,” it was almost a drag, your words.

Sobbing almost, at the way he chuckled—“nu uh, this is still technically your punishment, you know that right?”

But even so, Suguru knew he wouldn't deny you pleasure, just…maybe, just tease you a lot—drive you over the edge with his words before his tongue would do it, but he would get to it, surely.

And deep down he knew it too, he couldn't have had anything in him to deny you it either, not when you squirmed for him so adorably.

Just as before, Suguru attached his tongue to your see through panties, swirling around your folds and nub—until he playfully nimbled on it—basking in your gasp and sudden clutch of your fingers on his hair.

Suguru wrapping his lips over your clit once again, feverishly suckling on the swollen flesh— tempted to just move your panties to the side and eat you out like a starved man who hadn’t eaten in weeks.

But then, even with, close to none, experience that you had —you were sure that is what carnal desire would be presented as.

The idea was enticing, to just have it all flipped to the side—but he wasn’t one to give up so easily—and then he did want to see you suffer and cry all for him. Even if he’s currently losing his mind to actually get a taste of your pussy.

“S-Suguru—please, s’close!” his tongue danced about your folds, warping and swiveling the mushy flesh until your legs started to shake—as did you.

Your back arched, loud moans leaving your mouth—almost pornographic they sounded, as your hand was still gripping Suguru’s locks tightly.

Fat tears rolled down your cheeks with your jaw slightly hanging open but no words were escaping your lips, your body spasmed, your grip on suguru’s hair loosened as you held onto the sheets underneath you instead—before you came really hard, drenching your panties even more with your cum.

Suguru was kneading the soft flesh of your thighs as he looked up to you, licking his lips, practically tasting your cum on his tongue already. You swallowed thickly, meeting his intense gaze on you and before you could mutter or say anything— Suguru had beat you to it.

“Not done yet doll,” he grinned—fingers hooking in the waist band of your panties—“next question decides if you become the good little student that you are, and I teach you how to please me—or you get punished more when I get it actually gt to play with your pussy,”

A broken giggle escaped you, “oh well, what is it?”

Suguru couldn't help but giggle at you too, so damn cute that he found you, “how many times are you cum for me?”

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