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#he takes over and does it for you instead
tonycries · 1 day
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Dirty Lil’ Secrets!
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Synopsis. They all have their habits in bed - some so filthy you can’t help but keep them your dirty little secret.
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, size differences, bréeding, mating press, oral (female receiving), vibrators, manhandling, marking, jealousy (Choso’s side), praise, degradation, exhibitionism, fíngering, semi-public, cúmplay, some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 4.8k
A/N. This came to me while watching Pink Panther, I think I should watch Pink Panther more often.
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♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Take it or he makes you
Now, Toji knows he’s got a big dick - huge, even. And to him it doesn’t make a difference - either you take his fat cock like the good lil’ slut you are, or he shoves it in your snug cunt and watches you gasp so deliciously around him, eyes watering, swollen lips dropping into a pretty little oh! 
“Ah- hngh daddy s’too big. I don’t think-”
“You will, pretty girl.” he chuckles darkly, leaning down till his breath is hot against your ear. “Because I’ll make it fit.”
Okay, maybe he lied - maybe it really does make a difference. Because right now, with you already so cockdrunk as he bullied his furiously leaking tip into your sloppy hole - Toji doesn’t think he’s ever been harder.
“Are- are you at least hngh- halfway in, daddy?” he hears you whimper. Cock twitching so animalistically inside you at the way your voice cracks so adorably at the end, tinged with desperation. 
Toji can’t help but huff out a laugh, brows furrowed, greedy gaze stuck on the obscene way your pretty lips struggle to take him in. Pussy spread open so shamefully for him, quivering and leaking so sinfully onto the sheets below. 
“Nope.” he hums, popping the p, reaching down to lick a long, languid stripe up the delicate tear streaming down your cheek.
God, he has to fight down some feral, animalistic part of him that wants to just plunge his throbbing cock into you till his heavy balls smack your ass. But no - not yet. What’s the fun if he can’t see you struggle a bit more?
Instead pushing in shallow, determined little thrusts to fit inside your tight pussy. Each one has his prominent veins pulsing angrily against your walls, hitting that one spot just right. A maddening bump! bump! bump! you were losing your mind to. 
Stretching you to your limits. You could almost feel his achingly hard tip hitting your cervix already.
Full. So full - and he wasn’t even halfway in. 
Feral grunts leave him at the way you moan breathlessly at each motion, scrambling to grab onto the headboard, the sheets, him - just anything to ground you to your sanity as you’re split apart on his achingly hard cock.
Ah, how he loved this little song and dance. A few tears, a few whines - his lil’ slut pretending like you couldn’t take it all - as if your walls aren’t sucking him in so obscenely, hips bucking up mindlessly for more. He loves your cute lil’ mewls when you can’t decide between wanting to run away or milk the soul out of him. 
“Now now,” Toji tuts, looping two muscled arms around your waist so you can’t escape. Tight, grip almost bruising. 
You let out a delirious squeal as he pulls you down down down - onto his thick cock. Plush walls taking him in greedily inch by fucking inch. Hungry for more.
He knew his pretty girl could do it - you always do. 
“Don’t think you can run away from me, doll.” he groans over your pathetic little yelps of “Ah! Too- too big, daddy! Gonna break-”
“Then break f’me.”
And with that, Toji’s had enough of playing nice - ramming in the rest of his length in one, harsh thrust. Not stopping till he’s buried in your dripping cunt all the way to the hilt. 
A low hiss leaves him as his abs rub your skin, twitching balls finally smacking against your ass. Finally taking all of him.
Finally bottoming out. Ah, this is what he’s wanted for s’long - teasing himself just as much as you.
“Oh! Oh my- ah, fuck. Want it- need it s’bad. Please- ngh-” you mewl, hips bucking wildly. Too cock-drunk on the way the tufts hair at his toned pelvis scratch against your throbbing clit to even form proper sentences. God, you think you could almost cum just from the feeling of being so overwhelmingly full of him.
“Feel me in you, pretty girl?” he rumbles, low and dangerous. “Feel me right…” he trails a long finger in between the valley of your breasts. Featherlight touch dancing down, down, down to your navel, pressing hard onto your stomach, “...there.” 
You gasp at the pressure, breath catching in your throat at the dangerous smirk curling his lips as he begins to pull out inch by inch - agonizingly slow. Getting ready to fucking ruin you.  Because boy does it stroke his ego to see you absolutely wrecked by his huge cock, struggling to just take him - but this is where the real fun starts.
♡ NANAMI KENTO - The family man
Nanami’s a very steady man - he always has been.
A steady job, a steady schedule, a steady relationship with you. So, really, it makes sense that he wants a kid, or two - or four with the ways he’s got you folded in half beneath him. Legs thrown over his sculpted shoulders, thighs burning at the stretch as he bends down down down-
A mating press. Nanami Kento had you in a fucking mating press.
And it was very dangerously quickly becoming his favorite thing.
You weren’t sure what to expect with that off-hand comment about wanting kids, but it surely wasn’t for your loving husband to fucking rip your skirt off and bend you over the nearest flat surface, throbbing cock now buried in your dripping pussy.
That was a few days ago.
And now every night without fail, you have Nanami’s seed dripping down your legs, still-achingly hard erection buried in your poor cunt - you doubt you’ll make it out alive this time.
“K-Kento- Hah- hngh, I feel s’full- so-”
“Shhh, darling. One more. Jus’ one more, all you gotta do is take every drop.” he hums, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. Brows furrowed, sweat trickling down his temple, cock ramming into you at such a filthy pace. 
Warm - so warm with his seed. It jolted some carnal part of him - all the way down to his achingly hard cock - to know that he was the one doing this to you. That was his cum filling your pretty pussy. And everyone else would know.
God, you can do nothing but sit there and take it as Nanami edges you closer and closer to your nth orgasm tonight. Thumb drawing rough, frenzied little circles on your throbbing clit that match the merciless pace of his hips. 
Over and over. A quick, maddening tempo he was losing his mind to.
Desperate, so desperate to get you off. 
“Gonna fill you up.” he whispers, voice raw and dripping with need, mind hazy. “Gonna be so round and pretty with my kid, right, darling?” 
You nod eagerly, as he increases his pace impossibly. Your skin stinging where his balls smack your ass, fucked-out little ah! ah! ah! leaving your kiss-bitten lips each time his hips hit yours. 
Drool drips delicately down the corner of your mouth at how animalistically he was fucking you. None of that familiar tenderness - only the pure, filthy desire to breed your pretty lil’ cunt full. All his. 
“You can dress ‘em up, and I’ll take ‘em to school.” he rambles, as half-delirious as you at this point. Drunk off of you and your cunt and you. “And when we’re all alone…” he trails off dangerously. Ripping his gaze from the creamy, white ring forming around his base to look in your eyes, “I’ll fuck another one into you.”
“Ah! Yes yes yes, please. Cum in me baby, fill me up.” 
You see white as you cum - or maybe that was Nanami painting your plushy walls with his seed, you can’t even tell at this point, too exhausted and cock-drunk. All you can feel is Nanami twitching inside you before he’s shooting thick hot spurts of his cum. Again. And again. 
“Oh- Kento, t’much. There’s so much.” you moan softly, words slurring together. Sloppy hole quivering at the feeling of being so deliciously overfilled as Nanami’s cum trickles out of you, forming a wet, sinful pool on the sheets below. 
“Feel it inside you, darling?” he doesn’t stop thrusting - rough, mindless movements from some deep-rooted, primal little part of him. Stuffing you deeper and deeper with his cum. Fully intent on filling you up until he was shooting blanks - or until he physically couldn’t. Whichever comes last.
Fucked-out little yelps leave you with wreckless abandon, mixing with the creaking of the bed at Nanami starts up yet another unforgiving pace, “Yes- Ah! I feel it, Kento. Feel it s’deep inside me.” “Mhm?” he purrs, teeth grazing your earlobe. Darkened eyes glinting with something predatory as they greedily lock onto the way his cum gushes out of you. Seeping into your skin, smearing on his abs - and his rock-hard cock. “Then, better be ready for one more, darling.”
♡ GETO SUGURU - The sweet-talker
If someone saw the ever-graceful Geto Suguru right now, they wouldn’t believe their eyes - and definitely not their ears. Such beautiful words coming out of such a beautiful mouth, but his actions were anything but. 
And it doesn’t even matter the place, he’ll come up right beside you and whisper a few seemingly harmless words. “I really love that skirt on you, angel. Is this the one I bought?” he’d say to you at the convenience store, smiling sweetly at the old woman in front of him that sighs about “young love.”
Little did anyone know that right at that moment, the innocent hand in his pocket fiddles with that little plastic remote. The one he bought specifically to make you lose your sanity.
Intensity setting 2.
“B-baby?” you whimper, breath hitching as you feel the bullet vibrator shoved inside your dripping cunt start to turn up a notch - tiny, methodical vibrations against your snug walls. 
“Yes, my angel?” 
You could almost smack the innocent grin off his devastatingly handsome face. Geto Suguru could win an Oscar for how good he was at acting like he didn’t have a firm grip on your vibrator control. Thumb running harsh, quick little circles on the intensity.
“Nothing.” you grit your teeth, nails digging into his sculpted arm as you hold onto him for support. The little bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt maddening against your cunt. Praying that no one else here could see your dazed eyes and the way your thighs were quivering desperately. God, could this queue get any longer?
You almost miss the wrinkled hand waving in front of your face, the good-natured voice in front of you asking, “You alright, dearie? You look a bit under the weather.” 
Intensity setting 3.
“I-I’m-” you choke, looking up at Geto for support. In perhaps a miraculous act of kindness, he peers down gently at the old lady. “Don’t worry, grandma. My love here has just been a bit sick today. M’taking her to the doctor after this, y’know. Isn’t that right, angel?”
Intensity setting 4.
Oh, not an act of kindness. Definitely not. 
Panties completely soaked now, pussy clenching desperately around the vibrator. You shoot a quick glare at Geto, who was urging you deceivingly lovingly to answer. God, you could almost hear the laughter inside his mind as you take a steadying breath, stuttering out a barely audible, “Y-yeah. Sick today.”
You couldn’t care less if the sigh of relief you let out is audible to everyone else in the store as the elderly woman turns away with a nod. Mind focused only on Geto and Intensity setting 4 and Geto-
“Aww, what’s wrong, angel? Why do you look like you’re about to cry?” you hear that familiar faux concern from above you. “Which asshole do I need to beat up?”
Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt 
Gritting your teeth in order to not snap or just outright demand that Geto makes you cum right here, right now. Instead, managing out an unsteady little, “Turn it down.”
“What was that, angel?”
“Turn it down, I swear to-”
You’re cut off by hot breath against your ear, Geto’s voice hoarse with desire as he mutters, “Then cum. Right here.”
And as if to prove his point, he deftly runs his fingers along the intensity control once more, rubbing maddening little circles along it. Edging your climax and your sanity like the sadistic bastard he was. 
Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt 
And you could tell by the faint smirk curling his lips that he was taunting you - torturing you to just break or break him. Whichever comes first.
Thighs trembling, knees weak, you shiver as you finally reach the counter, Geto’s thumb now firmly set on Intensity setting 4 as he speaks casually with the cashier. How dare he talk about the weather when you were reaching a breaking point here? 
Tears prick at your eyes - both at the pure overstimulation and the frustration of not being able to fucking cum. No matter how much you wanted to. 
“Angel, you don’t look too well. Want to sit down?”
You clench your jaw, trying to maintain some level of composure as Geto pays for your items. Every second feels like an eternity, every nerve ending screaming for release. 
You muster a weak nod even as you can feel your thighs quivering, blood roaring in your ears - you refuse to let him win. At least this time.
“C’mon now, let’s get you home and rested.” By the time Geto steers you to the exit, you’re practically begging for relief. His arm hot around your waist, your vision blurring at the edges. You’ve only made one step outside when-
Intensity setting 5.
You cum with a strangled yelp. Nails digging into Geto’s forearm hard - part in surprise and part revenge for all of that. His strong arm being the only thing grounding you - and the only thing keeping you from collapsing to the fucking ground.
Your orgasm takes you by surprise, and for a brief moment, all you can do is breathe, your eyes fluttering closed as your body shudders at the shockwaves of electricity. God, you almost think you see the pearly gates of heaven at the sheer intensity of your pleasure.
When you crack open your eyes again, you find Geto staring at you. Ah, an angel.
“Well, you should be thankful I went easy on you this time.”
Nevermind, it’s the devil incarnate.  Geto leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Hope you’re not feeling too ‘under the weather’, angel. Because I’ve got a plan in mind and we’re going to be doing something much more fun than going to the doctor."
♡ CHOSO KAMO - Marked up and all his
Choso knew you were hot - it only bothered him that everyone else did too. 
Which is probably why you’ll often find him all but dragging you into the nearest bathroom at whatever party. Barely even locking the door before he’s got you pressed against the cold counter, leaking tip dragging teasingly along your swollen folds. 
“Choso, baby~” you whine softly from where his furiously flushed head was kissing your dripping cunt, barely audible over the loud thumping of the music from the other side of the door. “More, deeper.”
And, well, whatever his sweetheart wants - she will get. Because he immediately presses in, plunging inch by fucking inch into your sloppy heaven. Veins dragging so maddeningly across your walls as he bullies his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. 
“This what you want? To be split apart on my cock, sweetheart?” He groans into the crook of your neck, your sweet moans going straight to his aching cock. Tongue flattening along the skin, licking long, languid stripes up your neck, he nibbles lightly - all part of his plan.
“Hah- Hngh, yes baby. Jus’ like that.” Enveloping himself in your warmth, thrusting in small, mindless little motions of his hips. Not even wanting to get himself off - just wanting, needing to feel your pretty pussy around his cock. To prove to himself that you were his.
But it wasn’t enough.
Mouth still relentlessly marking and biting your skin, Choso guides your legs to wrap around his toned waist - a signal to pull, to use him to your heart’s content.
“Fuck, Choso- Fucking me s’good.” Your legs tighten around him, pulling him impossibly closer. It’s all Choso ever wants. 
One hand deftly snakes it’s way down to your throbbing clit, rolling his thumb along the sensitive bud in just the way he knows will make you squeal and buck your hips onto his cock for more more more-
And the other - ah, yes, he can’t forget why he’s here - neat fingernails digging deep into your skin. Leaving pretty crescents in their wake - just below where your tight lil’ party dress hiked up. To show all those losers on the dance floor who you belong to.
Dragging. Marking. 
His mouth leaves their place from your neck to whisper against your lips, darkened eyes boring into yours, “You’re mine, y’know that?” 
You can do nothing but nod breathlessly into the heady air, hips bucking wildly underneath him as he increases his pace. Keening deliriously at the bruising grip on your hips and the even harder one on your poor cunt.
“Mine. All mine.” he grits out, twitching balls smacking your ass, rock-hard cock dipping in and out in and out in and-
“Those losers can’t fuck you the way I do, sweetheart.”
And then you’re cumming. Jolts of electricity running down your spine - and your nails raking down Choso’s. Red-hot patterns in their wake - and that’s exactly what sends him over the edge. “Ah- Shit shit shit, yes mark me till m’bloody yes-”
And maybe you do, because his throbbing cock twitches deeply in your pussy. Thrusting once, twice before he pumps thick, hot ropes into your fluttering walls. Tight balls squeezing painfully as he cums with a loud groan of your name. 
Two arms kneading your ass - wrapping bruisingly around your waist - touching any and every inch of skin he could reach. Leaving pretty little marks for days.
You can feel such a sinful, sticky mixture of his slick and your cum trailing down your legs as he fucks you both through your highs. Pooling at the cold counter, stomach now uncomfortably hot, vision blurry - yet you still manage to make out the satisfied grin on Choso’s face. 
Pure pride shining in his eyes as he takes in your fucked-out state, marks blossoming along your skin as if you’d been thrown to the wolves. 
Ah, success.
But he’s barely had time to bask in his victory till you murmur out a quick “Hold on.” Pulling him firmly by the collar of his t-shirt. Lips firmly slotting over the sensitive skin peaking out. 
Choso’s breath hitches as you bite and tease the skin - a pathetic little imitation of the absolute wreck he’d havoced on your skin - not pulling away until you’re satisfied with the dark, red mark blossoming on his milky skin. 
“There. Perfect.” you flash an almost-innocent grin at him. And despite all that transpired in this heady bathroom, this is what makes his knees weaken so desperately. Oh, how he loved being yours.
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - The show-off
If the King of Curses owns something nice and pretty, then you can bet he’s going to show it off to everyone and anyone that crosses him. It doesn’t matter if it’s human trash or some lowly curse he’s just about to kill, all of them have the same last sight - you.
You, sat so prettily on the hulking king’s lap. All doe-eyed and batting your lashes so innocently at him as he wielded chaos on his throne. 
It made them almost want to save you from this monster, only to realize - if Sukuna was feeling particularly generous that day - that he was the last thing that you needed saving from. 
Because if by some miracle, Sukuna was feeling generous - and decided that those scum that bow beneath him should see something pretty before they die - then they see you. Legs spread so shamefully on his lap, large arms the width of your head keeping them open for your guests.
Sukuna trails his rough fingers dangerously down your robe - one that does absolutely nothing to hide your curves or the heaving of your chest. Thin fabric tearing easily under his sharp fingernails, exposing such tantalizing flashes of skin as whoever’s watching gulps heavily in both fear and anticipation. 
He doesn’t stop till your robe is all but hanging off you now, dripping cunt soaking the tattered fabric as you keen desperately into his touch. 
“Shhh, my lil’ slut.” he murmurs, low and gravelly into your ear, hot breath sending jolts of electricity coursing through your veins. “Wouldn’t want to be rude in front of our guests, hm?”
Whoever’s bowing before you two don’t know what makes shivers run down their spine more - Sukuna’s dangerous words or the way you whine desperately. “But Sukuna~” grinding onto his very obvious erection as you do, “Wan’ you so badly, haven’t been filled by you today.”
Shit, scratch that. The scariest thing here was the deep chuckle that echoes across the throne room - the King of Curses laughing. Laughing. 
They watch in horror - unable to rip their eyes away - as he snakes down two large fingers to your dripping cunt, spreading open your swollen folds. Absolutely delighting in the way you flutter around nothing - his lil’ slut, so desperate for him. 
You buck readily into his hold as Sukuna bullies two large fingers into your snug cunt. Ready walls clenching down so sinfully at finally getting some of the friction you’d been aching for all day.
“Ohh, yes. Sukuna, finally. Wanted you in me s’bad.” you squeal as he curls his fingers deftly inside you, expertly grazing that familiar spot he knew would have you falling apart in a matter of a few seconds. 
“So spoiled.” Sukuna hums, a sly grin curling his lips - and the scum bowing before him completely forgotten - as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of your sloppy hole. Thrusting in rough, jerky little movements that no matter how filthy and unrefined they seem - hold a dangerous, calculated intent as he hits that spot over and over.
The ones before you find their cocks hardening traitorously at your breathy whines and the lewd squelching sounds. Torn between training their eyes on the ground and greedily watching your thighs quiver on the monster’s lap, cunt dripping so obscenely onto his robe. 
“Look at her.” a sharp order jolts them out of their reverie. Sukuna didn’t have to ask, he knew you were a heavenly vision in his little hell. Yet, he continues anyway, amusement spiking at the way they can do nothing but gape at what they can never have “Look. So desperate f’me. Should I make her cum?”
“Nooo, Sukuna don’ be mean~” you whine half-deliriously at the silence that follows. Voice strangled at the merciless pace Sukuna had on your cunt, rolling your swollen clit on his fingers, dipping in and out in and out in and-
Sukuna chuckles darkly in your ear, over the protests of the trash at his feet, “Seems like they don’t want you to cum.” He increases his pace ruthlessly, over and over. Hitting that spot with reckless abandon, delighting in the way you writhe and convulse on his lap. “But s’alright, I’ll be the one to make you cum. Your king, hm?”
And make you cum he does. Adding three fingers into your tight cunt now, thrusting in and out at a pace that has you bowing into his hulking body. Over and over. Hurried. Hasty. Almost torturous for those watching.
“Ah! Yes yes yes, Sukuna~ M’gonna-” you can barely finish the sentence before you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, broken moans of Sukuna’s name leaving your swollen lips. He doesn’t stop - not when your orgasm is mere tingles, your voice too raw to even let out fucked-out moans. Not even when you’re quivering and fidgeting on his laps.  Not even when he leans down to mutter in your ear, voice husky with pure need, “Now, how should I kill these fuckers off?”
♡ GOJO SATORU - Just a lil’ taste
The great Gojo Satoru loves all things sweet, and that includes you. Not just you, but your pretty lips, your sweet cunt, and the sweetest - something else he’d never admit to anyone but you - the taste of him in you.
And right now - bullying his throbbing cock into your snug cunt, his heavy balls smacking your ass over and over as he rams into you hard, fast - Gojo knows there’s something for him to look forward to. 
The bed creaks in protest as he chases the heavenly feeling of your tight pussy around him, mixing with the filthy moans leaving your mouth.
He was probably going to get another noise complaint - good, let them nosy fuckers know how good he makes you feel.
“Ah! Hah- hngh, Toru filling me up s’good.” you mewl and buck your hips underneath him for more more more- wanting, needing the feeling of him stretching you so deliciously. His glistening veins dragging along that one spot so deliciously, pulsing against your tight walls at an urgent, incessant rhythm. 
“Oh yeah?” he grunts. Cock pushing into you deeper and deeper, cervix kissing your tip so painfully good. “Like this? Like it when I fuck you like this? Can’t get enough of it, hm?”
Because of course, Gojo Satoru can’t stop running his mouth even when he’s fucking you relentlessly. Even when his thrusts grow frenzied, sloppy with desire. And especially not when you’re creaming on his achingly hard cock.
God, you’re so fucking perfect he can’t help but lose himself in the heat of the moment as well. 
Body arching off the bed, you see stars behind your eyes as Gojo cums in thick, hot spurts inside your fluttering walls. “Shit, oh Toru, s’full inside me hah-”
You think you probably cum harder just at the sight before you. 
Gojo’s head thrown back, blue eyes prettily rolling to the back of his head as he bites his lips in concentration - desperately trying to fight off that feral, animalistic part of himself that just wants to fuck his cum deeper and deeper inside your dripping cunt. Wrestling that urge to breed you full to the back of his mind. 
No, because he’s got bigger things in mind. 
Bigger things that include urgently dropping to his knees as soon as your breathless moans bate. He wrestles your hips on the mattress, grip bruising on your waist as he pulls your pretty cunt closer. All wet and painted white with his cum, dripping so obscenely onto the fresh sheets below.
Mouth dropping into a soft oh! at the sinful sight before him, Gojo doesn’t waste a second before surging forward. 
Nose-deep in your pussy, he doesn’t stop till he’s nose-deep and breathing you in so obscenely. Tongue bullying its way in between your swollen folds, dipping into your sloppy entrance in and out in and out in and out-
He groans into your cunt as he tastes himself. Tastes you. 
Sweet. 
The absolutely filthy mixture of his cum and your slick sliding down his tongue as he laps up your juices with the desperation of a madman. God, it makes the blood rush straight to his dick at the way your mouth drops open in disbelief - he never does get used to it.
Messy. It was so fucking messy. 
“Mmm, s’sweet on my tongue, baby.” he slurs, drunk off the absolutely intoxicating taste of your sin. “Fuck- Can’t get enough of it. Shit.” 
You flinch as he swears into your throbbing cunt. Seeing flashes of white behind your eyes each time he flicks his tongue just right to graze over all your most sensitive spots. You could almost cry from the overstimulation - walls fluttering sensitively around his relentless tongue.
And you probably do really cry when Gojo moves up your dripping pussy, sucking on your swollen clit. Rolling his tongue over and over at the same maddening pace of the tears down your cheeks. 
Absentmindedly, you wonder whether he’s done with his little feast - and moving on to torture you full time now.
Gojo huffs out a laugh into your cunt, popping off your abused clit with a lewd pop! Hands snaking down to grab his rock-hard base. Pulling in short, desperate little tugs to get himself ready for what was to come. “Yeah, m’done, baby.” he chuckles darkly. Shit, did you say that out loud? 
But you have no time to wonder too long about that, instead stuck on that dangerous little glint in his eyes as he stands from his position nose-deep in your cunt. Swiping his tongue across his lips, savoring every last drop of you. 
Dazed, your eyes drift from his slick-glossed mouth down, down, down to-
Oh.
“Don’t worry, baby. M’gonna be feasting again real soon.”
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A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.
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moonstruckme · 3 days
Note
Hi! I absolutely love your writing and saw that your requests were open so I thought I’d shoot this over. If you don’t vibe with it don’t worry about skipping it. I was wondering if I could request a James x reader where they are living together and definitely love each other but they’ve kind of slipped into a roommate phase. Like they’re just living around each other and reader starts feeling insecure and scared and doesn’t know how to get back into normalcy. Maybe a little angsty with some fluff at the end
Thanks lovely!
James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 2.4k words
When James comes in the front door, his shoes squelch. You look him up and down, dripping wet and mud caked up to his knees. You wince. 
“Rough practice?” 
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” James says, dropping his bag by the door and heading for the kitchen. 
There’s an exhausted slump to his shoulders, and his shoes leave a muddy trail of footprints, and you hate to do it, but—
“Would you mind taking off your shoes?” 
“Oh.” James looks down. You see him follow the trail with his eyes. “Yeah, sorry.” 
“It’s fine.” 
You hate yourself as soon as it’s out of your mouth, because that’s exactly the sort of thing you’d say if it wasn’t fine. And yeah, you’re a bit peeved that he’d track mud inside after you’d mopped the floors just yesterday, but you know he wasn’t thinking about it and you’d promised yourself just this morning that you were going to be nicer to him and now he’s sitting on the floor looking like his day is getting worse instead of better. 
You try again. 
“Um, I made dinner.” You step over him awkwardly, setting a hand on his head to help yourself. James doesn’t shrink from the touch, but he doesn’t lean into it like you could swear he used to either. The stove turns off like it’s relieved to do it, having idled for close to a half hour while you waited for James to get home. You wanted to try and eat together tonight; you used to do it all the time, but lately you’ve been having too many couch dinners by your lonesome. “Macaroni and cheese, is that alright?” 
“Yeah, thanks.” You jolt a little at James’ hand on your back as he reaches around you for a bowl, and he looks at you, lips quirking like you’re funny. 
You find yourself smiling back by muscle memory, a reflex almost forgotten. It lifts your heart. 
“So, how was practice?” 
James glances up at you, then goes back to filling his bowl. “I’ve already told you,” he says. “Rough.” 
“Oh, right.” You huff out a little laugh. He passes you the spoon, and you take it without really looking at him. “Sorry.” 
His answering smile is weaker this time. More a press of his lips than anything. 
“Don’t be.” He kisses you on the cheek, then goes, pulling out his chair at the table. 
You take your seat, too. A lot of these base routines have begun to feel empty lately. They used to be an assurance for you, like if you always wore your same paths into the carpet you’d become so entrenched in this house, in James’ house, that neither he nor it could ever let you leave. You loved knowing that if he was back from his run when you woke up in the morning, there’d be a glass of orange juice waiting for you on the counter. That when the flowers on your kitchen table started to wilt you’d come home to a fresh bunch, and that if you called and told him you were having a bad day lunch from your favorite sandwich shop would miraculously show up at your work. Those things used to make your heart feel full to bursting, because they meant he was thinking of you. 
Now you’re not sure what they mean. They seem like things James does because he’s supposed to, like part of a script, a routine. Chores. 
As soon as he’s sat down, he’s digging into his dinner. James eats like a boy. Wolfing, like someone’s going to take it away from him. You hope it means he likes it. 
“What’d you do tonight, m’love?” he asks through a mouthful.
And see, he says things like that. Calls you his love, asks about your day. It’s all started to fall flat. You know he’ll take whatever answer you give him, because you’ve begun to suspect he doesn’t really care. 
“Nothing crazy,” you answer honestly. “Shayna’s baby came early, so I’m taking on a bit more at work until they can find someone to fill in for her. So that’s a bit stressful, but it’s not awful.” 
“Mm.” James nods, but doesn’t offer more than that. His mouth seems to be perpetually full. 
You fork a macaroni noodle, pretending you have more appetite than you do. Truthfully, you’ve felt weird and off and vaguely nauseous all day. 
Last night had been a bit of a breaking point for you. It came on rather suddenly. You’d gone to bed long after James, but you couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t seem to tear your eyes from him, the way the moonlight snuck in through the slats in your blinds to fall across his sleeping face. He was so beautiful, and you loved him so much you didn’t know what to do with it all, and then you were crying. 
You’d wept silently, wishing James would wake up, but you were unwilling to rouse him and he wasn’t going to do it himself. Eventually, you’d fallen asleep with your pillowcase damp and cold under your cheek and woke to find James’ side of the bed empty as usual. Orange juice on the counter. 
“I was wondering if you might want to watch a film tonight,” you say lightly. “I saw they’ve put that sci-fi one you like back on Netflix.” 
“Ah, have they really?” James swallows, forks another bite. “Wish I could, but I’m supposed to meet everyone at Spoons in a few minutes here.” 
Oh. The realization hits you like a dull thud, smack in the center of your chest. He’s not eating quickly because he likes your food; it’s because he wants to leave. 
“Can’t you stay here?” Your voice is small. James looks at you like he’s not sure what to make of it. 
“Not tonight, sweetheart.” He offers you a smile. His fork clinks in the bottom of an empty bowl, and his chair screeches as it’s pushed back. James brushes his lips across your cheek as he goes by. “We’ll have to do it this weekend, though, definitely.” 
You know by now these sorts of promises aren’t meant to keep. They come written in disappearing ink.
He heads upstairs to change, and desperation grips you. It forgets he’ll be home later and puts you hot on his heels, your own dinner left on the table barely touched. 
“Jamie, wait.” He pauses with his shirt half off, looking over at you in the doorway. “Don’t you feel like we’ve not had much time together lately?” you ask. 
The plea is naked in your tone, and James’ eyes soften. He tugs his shirt off, straightens his glasses. “I haven’t had time for much of anything lately,” he says, shrugging good-naturedly. 
It’s true. He’s been busy. His new coach seems to think the team has nothing but time, and as captain James is expected to commit even more than most. When he’s not at training, he’s keeping fit on his own or running errands for his mum or sleeping it all off in your bed. 
“But you should come tonight,” James goes on brightly. “Dorcas and Marlene will be there, it’ll be fun.” 
He tosses his clothes in the laundry bin and makes his way over to the dresser. You cross your arms, then uncross them. Parse your words. “I don’t…I just feel like you hung out with your friends last night, you know?” 
“You could’ve come then, too,” he says, stepping into a pair of jeans. “They all love you, you know that.” 
“I don’t want to hang out with your friends.” It comes out sharper than you intend, though not less sharp than the look James gives you. He’s finished getting dressed but doesn’t make to leave. “That’s not what I mean. I like your friends, but it’s not…the same as spending time with you. It doesn’t count, for me.” Your voice softens on the last two words, knowing that for James, it might very well count. 
For him, you’ve gathered, social time is social time. So long as you’re there, he’ll feel just as connected to you as if you were curled up on the couch together having a private conversation. You wish your brain worked the same way, but it doesn’t. 
He’s looking at you with something like trepidation now, so you state it plainly. 
“I really miss you, Jamie.” A blockage rises in your throat. You swallow it back down. “I feel like…I don’t know what’s going on with us lately.” 
“We’re the same as we have been.” He looks confused, worse when your face pinches painfully. 
“And that’s all?” You try to blink them away, but tears burn in your eyes. “This is just what we do now?” 
“No.” James looks appalled, but you catch the quick glance he gives to the digital clock on his nightstand. “It’s only for now, just until the season’s over and Coach mellows out. Where’s this coming from?” 
You blink hard, angling your head away from him. “Nothing, sorry. I’m just being emotional.” Your breath scrapes on the way in. You pretend it doesn’t. “It’s okay if you have to go.” 
He shakes his head, and when you start back towards the stairs anyway, he says, “No, come on.” In a few long strides, he’s got your elbow. He tugs you gently back into the room. “Let’s sit down, okay? What’s going on?” 
“Sorry.” Your voice is pitchy and tight. You think you hear James inhale softly before he’s drawing you into a hug. It doesn’t feel quite like it used to, but it’s still warm, still nice. 
He sits you both down on the edge of your bed, arms still wrapped loosely around you. “What are you sorry for, baby?” 
“I was going to try not to make your life harder today,” you laugh wetly, pulling back from him to swipe under your eyes. 
“You don’t make my life harder,” James says, somewhere near to dismayed as he slides his hand to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t.” 
You give him a look meant to say, Oh, come on, but you’re not sure how it comes off with your face blotchy and snot starting to run from your nose. You take in a big breath, trying to calm yourself. 
“I think I’ve made it harder more than I’ve made it easier lately,” you admit, looking at your bedcover and also at nothing at all. “I didn’t even really realize until recently, but I’ve just felt so…disconnected from you lately. It’s like even when you’re here, I’m just around you and not with you, and—” Your voice catches, and you inhale again. “And I know you’re really busy, but I’m just trying to find ways to fix it.” 
James’ hand drops from your shoulder, into his lap, and you lift your gaze. He looks crestfallen. “What do you want me to do?” he asks quietly, his own voice starting to sound raw. “I can’t control these things. And we live together, I see you all the time. It doesn’t seem fair to ask me not to see my mates.” 
“I’m not asking you to do that.” You’re horrified. “But that’s just it, Jamie, it’s like we only live together anymore. Saying hi when you come in, waving when you go back out, those don’t count as quality time for me. And I wish I could get the same feelings from being in a big group that you do, but I can’t.” 
James looks at you helplessly. You shrug, just as powerless. 
“I know it’s not your fault,” you tell him, and a tear drips off your chin. “I don’t know what to do, either. I just want you to know that I’m trying, okay?” 
James nods for a minute. Thoughtful, heartbroken. He lets out a big breath. Your arms come around each other at almost the same time, so in sync you can’t be sure who reaches for the other first. You’re trying not to get snot on his fresh shirt, but he palms the back of your head, pressing your face to his shoulder. 
“Okay,” he says quietly. “You’re right, we should both be trying more. I think I’ve let myself get so overwhelmed that I’m not…almost not even thinking throughout the day, but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with all of this by yourself.” 
“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, and a little laugh rumbles through James’ chest. He hugs you tighter. 
“It is a little bit, though, isn’t it? I haven’t been paying attention. But okay, let’s make a plan for now.” His hand splays out between your shoulder blades, and you clutch at the material of his shirt, both of you wordlessly trying to get closer as if you can make up for lost time. “Come with me tonight, please.” You go still, but James goes on, “I know it’s not a solution, but I can’t back out and I’d really feel so much better if you were there. Please, angel. And tomorrow, we’ll stay in and watch something. Not a film only I like,” he gives your back a teasing little squeeze, “but something we can both get into. Or we can just talk, or play a game, I don’t care. Tomorrow is our night, yeah?” 
“Yeah,” you sniff, nodding and pulling away slightly so you can wipe your face. James joins in, pinching your nose clean for you and wiping the snot on his jeans carelessly. “Yeah, okay. I’ll try to clear my busy schedule.” 
He smiles. It’s like the sun beaming through clouds. “I’d appreciate that. Really hard to get ahold of you these days.” You let out a little laugh, and his grin spreads. “Good, so that’s for now, and at training on Friday I’m going to talk to Coach about cutting down on our hours.” 
You feel your eyebrows pinch. “Jamie, you don’t have to—” 
“I do,” he says. “I’ve been a wuss about it, but everyone on the team is miffed and it’s really my job to handle it. He doesn’t know everything yet, so I can at least give him some advice about how we operate best.” 
James palms the back of your neck, pulling you towards him and meeting you halfway. His forehead presses against yours. 
“I’m really glad you said something. Thanks for being the smart one, as usual.” Your smile is small at first, but James nudges his nose against yours until it blooms in full. “We’re gonna make it better, okay?” 
You swallow thickly. “Okay. Thanks, Jamie.” 
“Don’t thank me.” His voice takes on a tender quality, and you push your forehead into his. He palms your cheeks in response, stamping his lips to your forehead. “Love you, sweetheart.” 
“I love you, too.” 
That was never up for debate. 
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blbrrymilk · 3 days
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😽🫶wren! How are you doing today? I was sleepy at work today and drank a lot of coffee. I hate capitalism 😭
Anyway, I want to share an interesting idea, what do you think would happen with Dr Ratio + bimbo reader? The reader has always been stupid and naive, and can't even understand his sarcasm… She often does wrong things accidentally, such as getting stuck on the wall, and even pouring drinks on him…
Oops, sunday / aventurine + bimbo reader would be interesting too…🥺
good luck with work love!! im relaxing in the bath today 🥱
I LOVE BIMBO READER... and stuck in the wall… 10/10 guilty pleasure...
cw: dubcon, dumbification kink go brrr, implied fem reader, slut shaming, manipulation
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ratio thinks you're beyond help. there's negative numbers going off in his head every time you open your airheaded mouth to speak some nonsense. -20, -25 - 30...
(“what’s this symbol mean again..?” “I don’t get it…” “these books have soooo many big words..”)
he really can't stand to listen to you stumbling around your own thoughts just to never actually reach a valid point or say anything of substance. he holds his head in his hands, raking his hands down his face each time his sarcasm and witty comebacks go right over your head.
he thought you might be good for taking simple orders for him, since you're no good as an apprentice to teach. but you can't even manage to serve his tea without tripping and falling and spilling it on his clothes. when he finds you stuck in the wall- he scoffs in disappointment. you're truly a lost cause. he knows you won't manage to get yourself out of there without his help. he's not even sure how you managed to get in there- but he's not surprised with how often you make these ridiculous mistakes.
you think he's going to help pull you out- but you feel the harsh smack of his ruler instead. you babble and whimper, confused- but he silences you immediately with another slap. you've been trying his patience for too long- always being troublesome. there's really nothing going on in that head of yours is there beyond your pretty face- is there? you end up hanging from the wall, drooling and leaking with his cum from your holes. your ass red and stinging and your legs quivering- still unsure what you did wrong.
ratio sighs, sticking a note of -10000 points (fail) on your forehead. at the very least, you're nice to look at. you make a nice decoration in the wall of his room. and you're pretty good at taking his cock and relieving some of his frustration. 100 points.
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aventurine thinks you're too fun to mess with. you really believe anything he says. and you fall for every single trick so easily. it's not even fair to call it a challenge when he gambles against you. he wouldn't even have to cheat to win. you don't seem to follow the rules of any of the card games or dice rolls- despite how many repeated explanations you're given. "ohhhhh... i get it now!" (you don't)
he charms you with his lies, someone like you is so easily impressed, gasping in awe and praising him for accomplishments and things he's never done. it's really too easy. if he asks you to bend over to pick up a coin he “accidentally” dropped, you bend at the waist fully, your panties on full display. the puffy outline of your cute pussy exposed to him- he takes a snapshot with his cell phone, laughing to himself. you're like putty in his hands, really. he hardly has to try.
when you end up stuck in the wall, he makes you a deal. promising to help you if you suck his cock first and let him record your cute face. of course this will stay a secret between just the two of you! you do your best, taking him all the way into your mouth until your jaw is sore and aching- his cum dribbling off your tongue. you look up at him with those thoughtless, wet eyes- asking if he'll finally help you- but he sneers, taking out a pen to write on your face and body. (aventurine's property), (dumb slut ♡)
he puts his sunglasses back on and waves you off, telling you to take this as a lesson not to believe everything you're told. don't worry- he'll be back to use you again when he's in the mood. he knows you won't figure out a way to get yourself out of there until then. so be a good onahole and wait for him <3
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sunday feels sorry for you. it's in good faith to take pity on the less fortunate... and the ... less intelligent, right? you always hear his soft sigh after every silly, thoughtless question you ask him. following behind him like a puppy with your wide-eyed, brainless expression.
(“who is xipe? what is the path of harmony? is the Family a real family? so you're like a dad, right? is your halo real? can i touch your wings?”)
you giggle and keep asking him these sort of questions all day long.
sunday looks at you with an exhausted, pitiable smile always. your naivety is a bit endearing, but you're bound to run into the wrong person one day who might take advantage of you- or have far less patience than he holds for your antics. it's difficult to take you with him on business matters. you can't keep up with the serious topics in political conversations- much less be left with the responsibility of being his assistant. even simple tasks like serving drinks and sorting paperwork proves too difficult for you. his office seems to be in a much worse state than when he left you to tidy it.
and somehow, you managed to get stuck in the wall too... a person with lower morals just might think of taking advantage of a pitiable thing like yourself. not that he hasn't entertained the thought... you really do anything he asks. you sit on his lap, and change your clothes without even waiting for him to leave the room- blissfully unaware that he's still a man. his eyes can't help but wander over the curve of your hips, your plush butt pushing against him as he attempts to pry you out of the wall. you won't stop wiggling around.
("u-um...! there's something hard pressing against me…? mr.sunday...?”)
he grits his teeth, ordering you to hold still while he figures out how to get you out- his mind filled with all sorts of ways to relieve his frustration on you. he really does pray for your wellbeing (and his sanity.) hoping you might finally gain some common sense.
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13atoms · 1 day
Text
Handsome and a Genius (Spencer Reid x F!Bau!Reader)
Inspired by that one scene in x files where mulder stands like a himbo looking handsome and being the future of beauty. you know the one I mean
Summary: Spencer’s overactive brain draws more attention than it ought to on a case, and you see him in a new light. 3k words.
Contains: hostile witnesses, spencer being clueless (but an absolute babe), friends to lovers. (No offence to Florida im sure it’s very nice, reader is having a bad day, and I am far too British for that kind of heat)
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The sticky Florida air had long since plastered your clothes to your skin, leaving you short of breath and with the unpleasant feeling of damp hair against your scalp. The whole team had groaned at the revelation their next case would be in the outskirts of Miami, and as soon as the plane door opened you understood why.
You were hot, and grumpy. The salty, swampy air made you feel disgusting as you approached witness after witness. There was a serial killer operating in and around mobile home parks in the area, with the two most recent murders taking place in Royal Biscayne Trailer Park, both over a week ago. While the rest the team spread out across the other crime scenes, you and your partner had been dispatched to this one.
It was a world away from Quantico: sun-bleached, dense, full of plastic and palms instead of concrete and maples. Nonetheless, the principles remained the same no matter where you were. Take everything in, speak to everyone, suspect everyone. Stepping in and out of trailers gave you very little relief from the heat, although respite from the sun pounding down on you was a welcome break.
Dr Spencer Reid stood a short distance away, shielding his eyes with his hand as he contemplated the sea of trailers around him. He’d stared around as you drove into the park, something faraway in his eyes as he memorised every detail from the safety of the SUV.
Now he stood close to you, heads inches apart as he whispered so that only you could hear. He faced one way, you the other, and you could focus on his words knowing that Spencer was watching your back.
“These things all come equipped with the same locks, at least each model does. If you recognise the trailer home, you know how to pick it. It’s fairly trivial, for someone with some basic industry knowledge.”
You hummed through pursed lips, surveying the small crowd who had gathered to gawk at a pair of FBI officers on their turf.
“And that would be true of all of the trailer parks… we know he’s got a common MO.”
“Exactly.”
“You reckon someone in the industry, then? A salesman? Maintenance guy?”
Spencer rolled his neck, stared up at the sky for a moment. His curls were long at the moment, damp at the name of his neck, a little frizzy in the humidity.
“Not necessarily.”
“It’s quite specific,” you agreed, “anyone operating as a common thief around here would have the knowledge too. We could be talking about a classic escalation – burglar to home invader to murderer?”
His eyes snapped from you to his phone.
“I’ve asked Garcia to check out any patterns in robberies, home invasions… the locks are hardly scratched. We know he wears gloves, cleans his tools. This guy knows what he’s doing.”
You nodded, surveying the street again. The sun was glinting off of white plastic, making you squint. You worried for Spencer, the heat and the light wouldn’t be doing his headaches any good.
“You want me to take that?” Spencer was saying, and you snapped your attention in the direction he was gestured.
There was middle-aged man a little way forward of the crowd, shoulders hunched, hands entwined. Nervous. He had the tan of someone who lived here year-round, not a big believer in suncream, with tanlines when he removed his hat and glasses to speak to you.
“I’ve got it,” you murmured, and Spencer nodded.
It was an unspoken part of your partnership, that Spencer liked when you started conversations with witnesses. You liked that he trusted you, trusted your skills, never questioned whether you’d done the right thing when you spoke to people.
Instead he remained a short distance away, climbing up the front steps of someone’s home for a higher vantage point to survey the place.
“Hello, sir. Can I help you?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you. You said you’re with the FBI?”
The man had a tip, and it was an interesting one. A rumour spread throughout the HOA about someone trying the locks at night, the sound of metal against the doorways, silhouettes against frosted glass. A few people even had security camera footage, though nothing identifiable. It was great. You gave him your card, told him to get the footage to you asap.
It must be terrifying, you realised, to hear that kind of noise in the night. To be so close to danger, after a neighbour had been killed. The local sheriff’s department seemed frustrated by the interest the case was garnering – frankly you were amazed the story wasn’t bigger. There was no small amount of comforting involved in the conversation you had with the witness, and soon enough a few more people stepped forwards from the crowd. All seemed middle-aged, likely transplants to the sunshine state, and equally shaken.
When everyone’s stories had finished, they stood in silence for a moment. You frowned, noticing their gazes slightly misaligned.
Spencer.
He was stood at your shoulder, sharp gaze flickering across each face of the gathered residents.
“This is my colleague, Dr Reid. A few of you have already met, I believe.”
“You know,” he began, “the socio-economic factors influencing the way we think about crime in mobile home communities are fascinating. Often trailer parks are stereotyped negatively in the media, and because they are generally cheaper to live in than traditional housing estates, and that can foster a sense of shame or isolation for residents. Transient populations can also make community policing and security difficult, and anomalies in the patterns of everyday life become more difficult for people to subconsciously spot.”
You held your breath, and tried not to look worried at the reaction of the small crowd. Instead, you focused on Spencer. He was speaking with his hands a lot today.
“But I think the assumptions we tend to make about trailer parks completely overlook the very nature of living so close to your neighbours. There is a sense of community in living so closely, as evidenced by the conversations we’ve been having today. I’m not sure whether the killer understands that, or is exploiting the former theory that places like this allow for more deviations from the way we implement traditional security in communities. An unsub might hold some sort of resentment towards trailer parks, or some specific resident in his past, or perhaps he’s simply exploiting how incredibly easy it is to simply walk up to a mobile home and slip the lock open with a humble mass-produced lock pick.”
He was greeted with a sea of blank faces, littered with the occasional frown. Finally he looked to you. You caught the furrow of his brow, the way his shoulders hunched into himself, the clutching of his elbows to his body.
Oh, Spencer.
“That’s really interesting!” you tried to say, but Spencer was already backing away.
“Anyway, I’ll, um, leave you to it.”
“Thank you, Dr Reid,” you called after him, as he fled, disappearing into the shade of a nearby trailer.
 Your heart ached for him a bit, but you pushed that aside. Instead, you had a sea of potentially offended retirees to keep on side.
“God, what I’d give for a brain like that,” your witness laughed, his linen shirt straining under the movement.
You couldn’t help smiling, a little relieved the tension had broken.
“It’s not often someone has a face like that and a good head on their shoulders,” one of the older ladies piped up.
You found yourself looking over your shoulder at Spencer, his profile sharp as he looked down the road, deep in thought.
“He’s certainly a rare breed,” you agreed fondly.
A number of the crowd were following your gaze, and someone in you wanted to snap them out of it. Stop them from staring.
“He actually has an eidetic memory. Once he’s seen or heard something, he remembers it perfectly, forever. It’s incredible.”
“Oh, my goodness! I can hardly remember my own email password!”
“I wouldn’t mind if he hung around me and talked like that all day, even if I didn’t understand a word of it. Though perhaps he could use a haircut…”
There was a chorus of agreement and various coo-ing which seemed to occupy the entire scale from grandmotherly to entirely inappropriate. You couldn’t help staring at Spencer a moment longer, wondering if he was truly oblivious, or simply pretending to be.
A rare breed.
You were certain you’d never met anyone else like him. Certain you felt like a better version of yourself in his company. That you’d trust him with your life, that you searched every room you entered until you saw him. Watched the elevator doors each time they opened, all morning, until Spencer walked in.
You were certain you’d felt giddy the first time Spencer insisted the two of you would work together, alone.
 “Imagine knowing that he’d remember everything, forever…” one of the women was saying, her eyebrows raised in a way you didn’t particularly enjoy.
You cleared your throat, and hooked one hand over the badge at your waist.
“Unless anyone has any further leads, we’d better be on our way…”
The group silenced, and watched you dutifully. You passed out a few more cards, reiterated how dedicated the team was to stopping this killer, and gave out a few promises that there would be a police presence after dark throughout the trailer park.
When the request for any further questions was met with more glances towards Spencer, you thanked your witness, and made a beeline for the car. After only a few seconds Spencer was beside you, jogging to catch up.
“All done?” he asked, and you smiled at the question.
“I think so.”
You started the engine and both waited with the doors open for the car to cool down. The department’s penchant for black SUVs was not helpful when the sun was so vicious. Feeling the heat themselves, the group of residents had dispersed into a few groups, wandering into one another’s homes to continue gossiping.
“God, I’m disgusting,” you lamented, “sorry for the sweat-smell. I might actually take a cold shower when we get to the hotel.”
Spencer was already waving you off, leaning into the car to mess with the AC. Through the open door you saw him groan at the heat, swiping a curl from his face.
“I’m afraid to raise my arms. It’s so humid, I’m not sure why anyone would retire here. High humidity aggravates a number of chronic conditions, especially respiratory ones, which are common in older people. Not to mention the skin cancer…”
“And it ruins your hair,” you teased.
Spencer faked a gasp, and reached for a damp, limp section of his hair.
“I mean, look at it!”
You laughed, and rolled your eyes at him, nothing but fondness settling warm and tight in your chest.
Surveying the road in front of you for one final time you saw a few curtain-twitchers, but no new faces. You climbed into the car, wincing at the heat. The seatbelt buckle was burning hot, and you swore as it burned your fingers.
“I always forget about that,” you grumbled, slamming the car door closed.
“You know, if you fasten your seatbelt after you get out, it stops the metal getting hot and burning you,” Reid offered, and you rolled your eyes at him again.
“Gosh, doesn’t it get exhausting being right about everything?”
Spencer went quiet, and all you heard was the click of his own belt. After a few moments the car was cool and bearable, and your lungs felt like they could finally move again. The sat-nav happily talked away, and you started stealing worried looks at your partner once you’d returned to properly-maintained roads.
“What you said out there was really good, do you mind if we go over it again once we get to the station? I think it’s worth exploring.”
“I shouldn’t have said it in front of them.”
He was right, but you didn’t have to heart to say anything. That was the thing which made your heart twinge about Spencer – he was so insecure, and yet so self-aware, it was the worst of both worlds. Being an expert in body language was a double-edged sword.
“I don’t think they minded. Did you hear those old ladies talking about your big brain?”
Spencer didn’t laugh. He turned himself towards the window, curled up with his hand beneath his jaw.
“They were very impressed. So was I, for what it’s worth. I think we’ll make some really good progress on this profile tonight.”
He hummed agreement. Watched a vista of blurred blue and green and white going past the window. The radio was turned down to a low hum, you could hardly hear it. Silence pierced its way through and sound of mumbled songs and road noise.
“Are you okay?” you asked finally.
“I’m okay.”
You sighed. Tapped the steering wheel. Sped a little to get through an intersection on amber.
 “Spencer…”
“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to ruin that for you I just… sometimes I think of things and it’s like I have to tell you.
“Spencer I’m not mad at you! Not at all! I think we’re both just tired, and too warm…”
He didn’t say anything.
“Honestly, I was worried you’d heard what those ladies were saying about you and gotten upset. It was inappropriate of them…”
“I didn’t hear anything. What did they say?”
Your gaze was focused on the road, but you met Spencer’s eye in the rear-view mirror as he watched your face.
“Just that you were a handsome young man. And that they wanted you to get a haircut, which I firmly disagree with…” you teased.
Spencer touched his hair self-consciously. He was still quite curled up, leaning away from you despite his interest in the conversation.
“That’s nice of them, I suppose.”
“‘Nice’ is an interesting way of putting it, but I’m glad you’re not upset about it.”
“When I was a kid, I read a book at the library about how to tell if you’re attractive. It was for women, all about makeup and stuff, but there was a section about what made guys hot. I could never figure it out, I just always thought I looked like an alien.”
The sudden change made you sit up straight, heart in your mouth as you rolled to a stop behind a queue of traffic.
“I think everyone feels like that sometimes. Being a teenager is really hard.”
 “I… yeah. I suppose so.”
“I always felt so jealous of the people who walked around looking perfect every day, confident that they were not. It just never came naturally to me.”
“Really? I assumed you were one of those girls in school who I’d be too afraid to talk to.”
You scoffed, and for a moment were struck by how little you really knew about one another. The way Spencer looked at you, looked it everyone, it felt as though he had an x-ray into every tiny detail of your life. How could he know, though?
“Of course not,” you laughed nervously.
You weren’t sure if you’d prefer Spencer knew the truth, or kept believing whatever he’d made up ini his head. You weren’t sure what any of this conversation meant. Traffic was moving. The precinct was two turns away.
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
He was teasing you. Finally he leant back in his seat, shoulders square to it, legs stretched out in the passenger footwell.
“Either way, I’m glad you can talk to me now. I’d miss it if you didn’t.”
“You might be the only person on this planet with that opinion.”
You took a moment to glance across the car at him, and caught a flash of a smile. He was joking. You released tension from your shoulders you hadn’t realised you were holding.
“I’m sure that’s not true. You’re a handsome genius, just like Barbara said.”
“Her name was Barbara?” Reid laughed.
You shrugged, and took the final turn into the precinct parking lot.
“I’ve got no idea.”
Even with the SUV in park, the aircon no longer blasting away, neither of you moved. Not for a moment, at least. A moment of peace before the chaos all began again. Just the two of you. Wherever you were, with Spencer was your favourite place to be.
“You’re the same, you know. A genius. And handsome…”
You frowned.
“Pretty! Beautiful. You know what I mean.”
“Handsome?”
In truth, you didn’t care about the words. Not at all. Not when your heart was pounding at the realisation Spencer had his gaze fixed on your lips, his eyes soft and pupils blown wide.
“Beautiful,” Spencer repeated, “You know, in a lot of languages, handsome can be translated for men and women. The word itself doesn’t have a gender. Guapa, for example, in Spanish…”
You let him talk, on and on. You decided you wouldn’t kiss him yet, while your hair was matted in sweat and Spencer’s face was brushed with sunburn and embarrassment.
“Bella is more popular in South America, though, or bonita. My favourite is Japanese, though. Kirei. To be beautiful both inside and out…”
Only a few more moments passed before Morgan arrived and banged on the glass with a wide grin and a sweat-beaded brow, announcing a break in the case. You were sorry for the interruption.
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she's mean, and he loves her for it.
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summary: your peers wonder how the ever-so-annoying gojo satoru can stand being in a relationship with you pairing: sunshine!gojo satoru x grumpy!female reader genre: angst, fluff warnings: none
Masterlist
"Did you guys know Gojo-sensei is dating-" Nobara looks around left and right before whispering your name in fear that you might be around.
"Ehhh?" Yuuji's eyebrows knit together. "No way. She's so scary and he's so...happy."
Nobara agrees, "She never smiles -- kinda looks like she has a permanent frown, too. She scares me."
"You think maybe she intimidated him to date her?"
Megumi watches as his two friends bicker about whether you and Satoru look good together, not realizing that you've heard everything they said. Megumi notices you've arrived to teach them and clears his throat, catching the attention of his two friends. He glances at you to check how you're doing after hearing what they said, but as expected, you remain professional and stoic. But Megumi knows better, he grew up under your and Satoru's wings after all.
"Shit." Nobara and Yuuji mutter under their breaths.
-----
It's fairly common for people to question your relationship with Satoru. He's this... happy-go-lucky guy who annoys everyone except those on the same wavelength as him, while you keep to yourself, prioritizing your alone time, and taking things seriously.
Sometimes, too serious.
You never let it get to you, though, because you don't really care what people say. You and Satoru are happy, that's all that matters. Until recently, when those jerk Kyoto students came over to train, they started talking about you and Satoru.
"She's so serious all the time, I don't understand how Gojo puts up with her."
"I think he's scared to breakup with her."
"I bet she's high maintenance."
"Honestly, why is he with her when he can be with someone who's... not so difficult?"
You grit your teeth at that last comment. You can't tell who said what, but it doesn't matter. Their words got to your head and now you're angry. Angry because you're scared they might be right.
Does Satoru think you're difficult? You're not entirely sure how to show them that yes, you deserve Satoru despite being the dark, grumpy person you are.
Sighing, you decide to go home instead of joining the dinner. Satoru's not in there anyway, he just got back from a mission and is waiting for you at home.
Once you close the door to your apartment, you immediately feel Satoru's arm envelope around you from behind. He smells like fresh mint -- just got out of the shower.
"Hi darling," he kisses your cheek.
"Hi, Toru." You take your shoes off and give him a quick peck before making your way to the bedroom to put your stuff down.
Satoru watches you slowly, "hm, aren't you supposed to have that dinner with the Kyoto students today?"
Your jaw clenches, taking a second before shrugging. "Decided to skip it. I'm tired."
He just hums, "In that case, you wanna watch Bridgerton with me after your shower?"
"Again?" You groan, "Isn't it like the third time you've watched it?"
"Yes, and?"
"I'll skip, thanks."
He blows a raspberry and leaves you to shower while he lays down on the couch to watch Anthony Bridgerton fall in love with his Kate Sheffield.
While you were in the shower, the words kept coming back to you. Somehow more exaggerated. You're difficult. He doesn't like you. He's just tolerating you. Why would he be with someone who doesn't even smile? Look at him, Gojo is the epitome of sunshine. You're nothing like him. Why would he like you?
Groaning, you let the hot water wash away your thoughts -- though they don't really go away. Maybe you should just try to be nicer to Satoru, be more cheerful.
After your shower, you see him lying down on the couch while watching his show, and you sit on the other end, silently dreading having to watch the same show again. But you're doing this for Satoru, so you will.
With a satisfied grin, Satoru saunters over and lies down on top of you, his head resting on your chest. You smile softly, enjoying the tight grip he has on you and his soft hair between your fingers.
"How was the mission?" You ask, "Did you have to go to Shoko?"
Satoru shakes his head, "Sweetheart, it's me we're talking about here."
"You can still get hurt, Toru." You pat his hair gently, "I've seen you bleed."
"I'm always careful. Don't worry." He kisses your hand.
You sigh softly. You know Satoru is always careful, it's just that he always goes on missions alone, and more often nowadays that it makes you worry. Yes, he's the strongest, but you never want to take that for granted.
"Toru," You call him again, a little hesitant, "You know I love you, right?"
He lifts his head from your chest, staring at you with those big blue eyes. "Of course. And I love you. So much."
He kisses you deeply, now switching positions so you're lying down on top of him. "So do you want to talk about it?"
"No.." You mumble. Of course, Satoru knows. He isn't stupid. He can sense when something's wrong with you, just like how you can feel the scar on his hip that wasn't there before. He did go to Shoko.
But none of you say anything. You just hold each other tighter that night. It's more than enough.
-----
Satoru is on another mission. It's supposed to be easy, at least that's what he said 3 days ago. You haven't heard from him at all in 3 days and you're beginning to worry. Your frown is deeper than usual, you sigh more often, and your fuse is shorter.
Everyone's more scared of you.
You let the kids take a break while you try to collect your thoughts. You can't be seen so distracted, not when Satoru left you in charge of them.
"You doing okay?" You hear Megumi's voice approach you.
Blinking away the tears that almost fell, you turn around to face him. "I'm fine, Megs."
"I told you not to call me that..." He sulks as he stands next to you, leaning against the wall. He can see you're distraught, and growing up with you, there's only been a handful of times he's seen you like this.
"You know he's going to be fine, right?"
You sigh. "I'm just worried."
You remember once when Satoru didn't come back for a week. He couldn't be reached, no one could track him down, and you were just at home, taking care of Megumi. The boy's more like you than Satoru, he's not exactly sensitive or cheery. But he knows when you're feeling sad, so he'd stay up with you, praying for Satoru's safety.
"Guys!" Yuuji runs towards you and Megumi.
"What is it, Yuuji?"
"It's Gojo-sensei-" He pants, "He's back!"
You run as fast as you can with Yuuji and Megumi, and you can finally see your white-haired, blue-eyed boyfriend limping his way back to the school grounds.
He raises his hand and waves to you with a big smile despite struggling to walk. "Tsk-" You frown even more, feeling the tears pooling again as you walk towards him and catch him in an embrace.
"Umph-" He groans. "Hi, baby."
You let go of him and check his injuries -- he's healed most of it himself, thank goodness, but the bruises are still there. "We need to go to Shoko-"
"Mm, that can wait." He pulls you to sit down on the soft grass, hugging you once again. "It's okay, I'm here now."
You choke on your own sobs and hug him tighter, sitting between his legs and burying your head in his chest. "You idiot."
"'M sorry for makin' you worry," he smiles gently, leaving kisses all over your face.
As you cup his face in your hands, you're suddenly very aware of the 3 pairs of eyes staring at you both. Noticing it too, Satoru covers your red, embarrassed face. "Okay, nothing to watch here. Go.. do something. Scram. Skedaddle."
Once the kids are gone, he chuckles and thinks you're being really cute. "They're gone, sweets."
You glare at his teasing smile.
Satoru wipes away your tears, kissing your frown away. "What took you so long?" You ask after kissing him deeply, not letting him go.
A smirk lingers on Satoru's lips. "I took a detour to Kyoto after the mission to teach some kids a lesson."
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dilemmaontwolegs · 22 hours
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The Nickname Runs in the Family || CL16
Summary: When you end up crying on your father’s shoulder over a boy, Kimi enlists the help of Charles to teach him a lesson. Charles Leclerc x Raikkonen!Reader Warnings: nsfw, fighting, mentions of sex, WC: 2.9k
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To the outside world Kimi was known as ‘The Iceman’, garnered for his cold personality in the media and how he never let anything bother him, at home however he was just called isä or dad. You really could have done with more of The Iceman persona because when it came to his family your father was anything but cool and collected.
“Tell me what happened,” Kimi demanded, your tears only streaming faster down your cheeks.
“Nothing happened, dad.”
“Something happened, tytär, don’t lie to me.”
It was stupid to go there after what happened. You should have just returned to your student accommodation at the college but you needed the comfort of home and someone you trusted. Now all of Monaco was going to hear just how hotheaded The Iceman got while your step-mother tried to put your baby half-sister back to sleep.
“Nothing happened!” you sobbed, burying your face in your hands as embarrassment flamed across your cheeks. “I said no, okay. I said no and he called me a frigid bitch before dumping me and leaving me at the party.”
You expected to hear something break, or at least his heavy stomps storming towards the front door. You didn’t expect your dad to throw his head back and laugh, a deep belly laugh that echoed around the quiet living room. 
“Ah, that’s my girl,” he laughed as he bundled you into a hug. “I like that, Frigid Bitch. It’s good.”
You snorted a laugh despite the hurt and wiped your tears on his shoulder. “I thought you would be angry.”
“Oh, I am,” he admitted somberly. He placed a kiss on your head before standing up and pulling his phone out of his pocket. You didn’t see who he was calling so late at night but groaned when it was answered. “Hello, Charles. You know everyone in Monaco, where does Devereux Laurent live?”
“Isä! No!”
Your father ignored you as he grabbed his car keys and his jacket, his phone shoved between his shoulder and his ear. “I’m not going to kill the little bastard, fuck, Charles, I just want to have a chat.”
The door slammed shut behind him and you collapsed back onto the sofa with a groan about keeping your mouth shut next time. You were still ruminating over your life choices when the doorbell rang an hour later. 
“Charles?” You frowned at the man panting in your doorway like he sprinted across the city before your eyes widened at the split lip he sported. “What are you doing here? What happened?”
“Kimi.”
“Fuck.” 
“Yeah.”
You grabbed your purse that had been discarded on the kitchen table when you arrived. “Where is he?” 
“The police station.”
“Shit, he didn’t do that to you, did he?”
Charles reeled back, clearly offended. “No, you’re asshole boyfriend hit me.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you clarified as you dragged him inside and grabbed a tea towel to wrap a bag of peas from the freezer. Charles flinched as you gently pressed the ice pack to his lips and you sighed. “I’m sorry my dad got you involved in this.”
“It’s okay,” he murmured, taking the pack from your hand to place it on his swollen knuckles that you hadn’t noticed. “I got myself involved when I heard what Dev did. Are you okay?”
“I didn’t get punched in the face,” you said as you playfully rolled your eyes, however you soon sobered. “It's nothing a few drinks and a bad romcom can’t fix, after I’ve bailed dad out first. It’s not like we were together long enough to get heartbroken. Do you want me to drop you off on the way?”
“I’ll drive.” He snatched a set of keys from the hook by the door, but you caught his wrist and took them back.
“That’s Minttu’s minivan.” You hung the keys back on the hook and grabbed a set for your dad’s Rolls Royce Wraith instead. The empty hook beside it was where the keys to his Ferrari Pista usually hung. “She wouldn’t be happy if you crashed her car again.”
“I didn’t crash her car,” he argued as he pocketed the keys and opened the door. “You were driving!”
“I had a shit instructor. You were too busy checking yourself out in the mirror to teach me.”
His finger jabbed the call button for the elevator as he scoffed. “You only know that because you were too busy checking me out to watch the road.”
The elevator arrived but you held a hand out to block him as you stepped into the small space. “Sorry, your inflated ego is too big to fit in here.” 
“That wasn’t a denial.”
You ignored him and jutted your head to the fireproof door. “Try the stairs.”
“But we’re on the top floor.”
You smirked as the doors started to close but he darted inside before they sealed shut.
“You’re still not denying it.”
“So you really went swinging for my honour?” you deflected as he hit the button for the garage level, exposing his swollen fist again.
“You sound surprised.” He leaned back against the wall and looked at his hand, massaging the tender bruises. “When I saw he was still at the party…”
You frowned, first at the fact that Dev went back after leaving you there, asshole, then at the fact Charles knew where he was. Charles was definitely not at the party, if he was then you would have heard the women going feral for him. “How did you know he was there? You don’t follow him on Instagram.”
“Not on my main account,” he said with a shrug. Anyone that Charles followed on social media made sure to announce the news like it was an instant ticket to ViP treatment, and Dev would have been no different. It was also the exact reason you went by Y/L/N, your mother’s surname, instead of Raikkonen. You didn’t want to be used by people for the name you carried. 
“You hate him, why would you follow him?”
“It doesn’t matter why.”
“It does to me.” 
Unfortunately the doors opened and he pushed off from the wall to stride past without an answer. A flash of lights responded to the click of the button on the keys and Charles slowed his steps for you as he led the way to the sedan parked in a secluded corner, the space beside it empty of your fathers red Pista. Charles stopped at your door and opened it for you, his eyes scanning the open space that was empty and quiet save for the whine of the elevator leaving the level. 
“For you,” he admitted as you slipped into the leather seat. “I followed him to keep an eye on you.”
The door closed and you watched him walk around the car, dropping into the driver’s seat before pushing it back to suit his longer legs. He then silently adjusted the mirrors and turned down the heavy rock music that blasted when the engine started. You didn’t know what to say, all you had were more questions that could only lead to more confusion.
“You deserve better,” Charles said, breaking the awkward silence as he pulled out into the street. 
“He was just drunk.” 
“That’s not an excuse. You deserve someone who will wait until you are ready to have sex, not try it on drunk and at a party.” His words were seething by the time he finished and his knuckles turned white from the tight grasp he had on the steering wheel.
“Uh, Charles, I was joking about my honour…I’m not a virgin.”
“Wait, what?” The car slammed to a halt and he earned a toot from the Lamborghini behind before it drove around when Charles didn’t move. “Since when?” he asked as he turned in his seat to face you.
“I didn’t realise it was such a big deal. Was I meant to stand at the corner and hold a sign that said ‘deflowered’ in Times New Roman or Comic Sans?”
He didn’t even blink at your icy tone and heavy sarcasm. “But Dev said he dumped you because you didn’t want to have sex. He didn’t force himself on you, did he?”
“Oh my god, no! I can’t believe we are having this conversation, Charles.” You figured it couldn't get any more awkward as you looked out the window into the sleeping city. “Sex wasn’t the problem, he was upset because I didn’t want to have sex with him.”
“Oh…oh.” He cleared his throat and put the car back into drive before continuing his way to the police station. “So, uh, is there anyone you do want to, um, have sex with at the moment?” 
“Why? Are you offering?” It was meant to sound teasing but there was too much curiosity in it.
His face flushed pink and his lips parted two twice before his voice worked. “I don’t do casual.”
It wasn’t a no, and that somehow made things both better and worse as a new possibility began to worm its way into your mind. You didn’t like the hope that fluttered in your stomach. Charles was a friend. Charles was someone your father trusted after Seb vouched for him. Charles was off limits. 
By the time you had filtered through the thoughts he had induced, Charles was pulling into the police station and you hoped your dad was fairing well behind bars. It turned out you had no reason to worry as you walked inside and heard his voice from behind the glass wall. 
Kimi was being well taken care of by the officers. He had a coffee in one hand, a pastry in the other and was answering questions that had nothing to do with Dev. You cringed as he recounted why he missed meeting Pelé years ago, but Charles chuckled along with the policemen as you knocked on the door.
The Monégasques fawned over their hometown hero while you watched Kimi pull himself to his feet, cracking his back that had stiffen while he was sat down. 
“I thought you would be in maximum security by now,” you said as he pulled you into a hug. “What did you do?”
He patted your cheek and smiled mischievously. “I like Charles even more now.”
He gave you nothing else but that was expected. Whatever happened was obviously not on the record and you wanted to keep it that way, especially since he didn’t have a single scratch on him - like he hadn’t been in a fight at all. You were quietly contemplating that knowledge when you climbed into the backseat of the Wraith and your father readjusted everything on the driver's side back to how he had it.
“You took the fall for Charles, didn’t you?”
They both swivelled back to look at you. Charles’ eyes widened, while your father’s narrowed. 
“Fucking hell, I’m not going to tell anyone,” you growled as you threw your arms up in exasperation. “I just want to know what actually happened tonight.”
Charles waited to see if your dad wasn’t going to explain as the car pulled out of the station car park. After a moment of hesitation he took a breath and started to rattle off the truth.
“I called Kimi when I realised Dev was still at the party. It was only a block away so I thought I would meet him there to point him out.”
“I was just about at the address he gave me when he called. I got there as fast as I could but Charles was already inside,” Kimi said with a proud chortle. “Got a few good hits on the little bastard too.”
“Iså,” you warned as he enjoyed the violence just a bit too much and Charles looked sheepishly down at his hands. “Why did you fight?”
“You know why. I couldn’t stand by and let him talk about you that way.”
“Good man,” Kimi said with a stern nod. 
“And you, what did you do, dad?”
“What I had to do,” he said with a shrug. “I’m retired, Charles has a career.”
You stretched the seatbelt and leaned forward to hug your dad and kiss his cheek before doing the same to Charles. “Thank you.” Your eyes lingered on Charles as his eyes said everything he couldn’t with your father in the car. 
“He’s not pressing charges but there may be some questions if anyone caught the fight on camera. You might want to give your PR team a heads up.”
It took a moment to realise where you were and why the car had stopped outside the venue where the party was still in full swing. Drunken revellers could be heard behind the velvet curtain hanging over the door and your father handed his keys over to Charles with a shake. “Make sure she gets home safe. I’ll pick it up in the morning, no scratches.”
“Yes, sir,” Charles promised with a nod before getting out.
“You’re trusting him with your Pista?”
“I trust him with you, the car I can replace.”
You surprised him with another hug as your door opened, your voice thick with emotion as you said, “thank you.”
“Do you want to come home?” he asked quietly. “I can make up the sofa bed.”
“No, it’s fine. I don’t think I’ll want to get out of my bed tomorrow.”
“Fair enough. Love you.”
“Love you too.” You stepped out and Charles closed the door, placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you to your father’s favourite car. “He doesn’t even let me drive this, you know.”
“Maybe that’s because you don’t support Ferrari,” Charles teased as you buckled yourself in.
“I support it now.”
“What changed your mind?”
You dared to look at him and met his green eyes. “You.”
“Awww, she called her little puppy,” Dev taunted as he spotted Charles walking towards him.
Charles chuckled, but it held no humour and his smile was dark. You had never seen that look in his eye and your thighs clenched in response. “At least she will still call me. You just lost the best thing you never deserved.”
“Well you can have the frigid bitch, good luck getting her to put out though. Fucking cocktease.” The snort Dev made was cut off by the fist that crashed into his nose and then the both of them were going to the floor, grappling and twisting until Kimi darted into the fray and grabbed Charles.
“Go, she’s at home,” Kimi ordered as he pushed Charles back the way he came. “I’ve got it from here, kid.”
The video looped back to the start and you watched it twice more before determining you were fucked. It hit you like a train, the pressure slamming into your chest as you realised you were in love with Charles. No one had ever stood up for you like that, or taken a punch for you or risked their career. But he had.
You stayed cocooned in your blankets for most of the morning, watching the video footage from the night before and it became your new favourite binge worthy entertainment. It would probably be classed as insanity if anyone knew you had become addicted to it, but it was only the fact someone knocked at your door that you placed your phone down.
“Charles? I’m getting a little déjà-vu here,” you commented as you opened the door and found him sweating.
“Will you go on a date with me?” he blurted out. “Please.”
Your brows shot up at the outburst and you checked the student halls were empty before pulling him into your room. “Uh, you do realise who my father is, right?”
“I do, thank you for your concern,” he chuckled. “I was actually just with him. I wanted his permission to ask you on a date.”
“Well that explains why it looks like you’ve been running for your life.” You looked at your door expecting to see it kicked in. “Was he chasing you?”
“What? No, I wasn’t running. Fuck,” he groaned as he ran his hands over his jeans to dry his clammy palms. “I was just nervous about asking you out. You still haven’t answered my question.”
“I will.”
“Answer the question or go out with me?”
“I will go out with you,” you clarified with a laugh.
Relieved, he took a seat at the edge of your bed and sighed happily. “I have been waiting years to ask.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded before flopping himself down comfortably and you dropped down beside him. “Your dad scared me,” he admitted as he took your hand in his.
“But not anymore.”
Charles smiled and it was one so similar to the video that was still playing on loop. He seemed to recognise the muffled sound coming from the blanket at the same time you remembered it was there and fished it out. “You’ve seen it.”
“Once or twice,” you lied. “I see why you’re not afraid anymore. That’s one hell of a right hook.”
“Oh no I am definitely still afraid of Kimi,” he corrected as he rolled on his side to face you. “But I am done watching you date assholes when I know exactly how you deserve to be treated. I want to give you the world, if you’ll let me.”
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To Be Worshipped
Theodore Nott x fem!reader; smut
summary: studying can be so stressful, lucky for you, your boyfriend theodore is always eager to help you relax.
a/n: you could consider this a companion piece to For You, I’d Fall from Grace, but the reader is receiving in this one 🫶 this was supposed to be up for lorenzo’s birthday but then i went out with coworkers and got tipsy, sorry. pure smut, 18+ only
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It was almost one in the morning and you were still scribbling down notes for your History of Magic exam that was fast approaching. The slytherin common room was nice and quiet, the lamp at the desk illuminating a small radius around you. You were so lost in names and dates that you didn’t hear your boyfriend Theo approaching.
You jumped slightly at the sudden hands on your shoulders, looking behind you to see him looking at you with raised eyebrows. “What?”
He chuckles quietly, “I said you look stressed and that you need a break.” He tucks a stray bit of hair behind your ear.
“I dunno Teddy, I really want to do well on this and I don’t even know if I could relax right now if I do take a break.”
He bends down to whisper in your ear, “be a good girl and leave the relaxing bit to me.”
♡ ♡ ♡
As you spread your legs for him, he grabs your hips and yanks you to the edge of the bed, making you yelp. You prop yourself onto your forearms as he drops to his knees with a thud, his intense gaze never leaving your face. He gently pushes your legs open a bit wider.
Theo litters your left thigh with soft kisses and little nips, trailing towards your pussy. Before he finally reaches it, he pulls away and does the same to the other thigh, making you whine softly.
This time he does reach your heat, kissing the outside with soft lips. He spreads you open, admiring how gorgeous you are for a moment, “you’re already so wet for me, amore.”
Before you can fully process it, his mouth is on your folds, seemingly unable to hold himself back anymore. The feeling of his warm tongue against you alone is enough to pull a moan out of you. He takes a few tantalizingly slow licks through your folds, brushing his tongue over your clit before repeating the motion. It sends shock waves through you every time he touches it and in response he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs.
Once Theo is satisfied with his first taste, he flattens his tongue and runs it over your clit in firm, rhythmic motions. Another, softer moan escapes you. As he relentlessly rubs that spot, you lose the ability to keep yourself up, arms giving out from under you. Your back hits the mattress and Theo takes the movement as a cue to speed up. Moans turn into needy whimpers as he refuses to let up on pressure or speed.
One of his hands slides up your side to reach your breast and he takes a moment to gently knead at it. His fingertips ghost over a nipple, making your entire body twitch. His tongue continues to toy with that bundle of nerves as he begins rolling your nipple between his fingers, occasionally pulling on it.
He takes a moment to dip his tongue into your entrance and he moans. The vibrations cause your legs to shake and the sound contributes in making your brain go fuzzy. You jolt again when his other hand moves so his thumb can rub your clit, picking up a circular motion. As his thumb works against you, he fucks into you with his tongue.
Theo’s tongue slips back out to lick up to your clit once again, his fingers coming down to tease at your entrance instead. His other hand is still toying with your nipple and you can barely keep up with the assault of sensations.
He slides a finger into you, the mixture of your arousal and his saliva making it go in easily. His finger thrusts into you deep and hard, picking up speed as moans start to fall from your mouth. When Theo curls his finger, hitting your g-spot, you almost come undone then and there.
He pulls back a bit to watch you shake, finger still thrusting, “fuck dolcezza, you okay? You’re trembling.” You can hear the smirk in his voice and a frustrated groan leaves your lips.
“Teddy, please,” your thighs twitch as you lock his head in with your legs. Before you can beg more, his mouth is back on you and he’s adding a second finger.
His tongue teases at your clit like he was made for it and soon enough you’re bucking your hips up in time with his licks.
You feel a tightening in your core as heat settles there, moans falling out uncontrollably. Feeling that you’re close, Theo doubles down on the speed and pressure of his movements, causing your orgasm to hit you hard.
You let out a strangled moan of his name that comes out as more of a cry as you finish on his tongue.
Your thighs are shaking as you release his head, breathing ragged. It barely registers that Theo has gotten off his knees before his mouth is on yours and you can taste yourself on his tongue. He pinches your nipple once again, causing you to let out something between a yelp and a moan.
“Oh dolcezza, you didn’t think I was done with you yet, did you?”
♡ ♡ ♡
Theo is lying on his back, looking like something out of a wet dream as he beckons you over. Once you’re within reach, he’s grabbing your hips and guiding you towards his head as you face the rest of his body. When he’s satisfied with your position he pulls you down against him, hot mouth back against your folds. Your abdomen spasms at the feeling, still a little sensitive from your first orgasm, but Theo doesn’t seem to care.
His tongue immediately finds your entrance and your arms are already starting to feel weak. You lean down against his toned torso, head landing on his thigh right beside his clothed dick.
His tongue desperately licks into you, as if he was starving for you. You moan louder than before, body moving to meet his thrusts. His hands never leave your hips, guiding your grinding on his face as he moans, needy.
Your gaze locks on his bulge and you begin to fumble with the waistband of his boxers. He lifts his hips to help when he feels you struggling. You’re able to get them pulled down, his hard cock springing free. A whimper escapes you.
All the while, his tongue does not let up, redirecting back to your clit, lapping less calculated than before.
Your hands claw at his thighs, causing a few pink lines to appear on his skin. In response, Theo’s fingers dig a little harder into your hips, keeping you grounded. You grind sloppily against his now still tongue as he lets you take control. You find a rhythm quickly, hitting your clit perfectly every time you press back down.
You take the tip of his cock in your mouth, needing something to stop you from crying out. Theo whimpers at the feeling of your soft mouth closing around his dick, hips twitching, as he tries not to thrust up into your throat.
Heat pools in your core once again and it gets harder to keep your rhythm. You feel a second orgasm building, hips involuntarily snapping against his mouth.
You pull off his cock as your orgasm crashes over you again, moaning out his name as he refuses to let up. His hands move to your thighs as you try to squirm away, holding you down.
His tongue laps at your folds, teasing at your clit until you can’t take it anymore. The only thing you can do is whimper as you spasm against his mouth. A third climax hits you quickly with his refusal to let up.
“Teddy, please, can’t.”
He lets you up just enough to speak, “you sure? I think you can be a good girl take more for me.” His hot breath against your skin makes your thighs shake uncontrollably. You bury your face into his thigh as a whine leaves you.
“Okay, okay amore,” he presses one last soft kiss to your folds before helping you turn around to face him. You collapse against his chest and you can hear his heart thumping wildly.
He gives you a kiss to the top of your head and murmurs, “we’ll save it for after you ace that exam.” You can’t stop the quiet moan that escapes your lips.
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bizbat · 1 day
Note
can you PLEASE write jason coming to you instead of anyone else. like i need that sooo bad please :)))
p.s i love your writing soo much. youre so talented, i am constantly giggling as i read
Always You . . .
🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️
🐼JJK Masterlist🐼
~ You can find more of my works here.
~ This took forever omg, but yesterday I got food poisoning so I finally got some time to write this. Not my proudest work but wtv.
Above all else, he'll always come to you.
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Contrary to popular belief, Jason Todd can be gentle. You've seen it, in the way he slowly flips through whatever book he's reading so you can read it over his shoulder, or how his fingers softly caress your thigh when you're seated beside him as if you're made of glass, or in the warm way he smiles whenever Damian says something the reminds him he's a child.
He's gentle now too, his head resting in your lap, his shirt torn and soaked in what's now dried blood. You can barely keep your eyes open, but you promised you'd watch over him while he slept, just in case something went wrong and he choked on his own blood or vomit.
You had that same nausea when he first came to your apartment at five in the morning, the bile rising in your throat at the smell of metal and the sight of blood gushing out of his gaping-
Just remembering is enough to keep you awake.
It . . . hurts, for many reasons, knowing that he puts his own life in danger for people he doesn't even know. You don't know why he does it, all you know is that for the next week and a half, he'll take a break to let his stitches heal at least a little bit. It's never enough, though. He'll crawl back to you in a few weeks, a sheepish smile on his face and his stitches popped open.
You'll roll your eyes but you always fix them for him. It's become a routine. Not one you're exactly fond of, but a routine nonetheless. It gives you something to look forward to. Sometimes it doesn't feel fair. The fact that he's always on the brink of death when you see him, that he's always covered in scars and wounds and gashes, and above all that, the fact that he only seems to come to you to sew a bullet hole shut or wrap a broken arm.
It does get exhausting, but who are you to complain. At least he trusts you, that's what you tell yourself. He comes to you because you're the only person he lets get that close to him these days, because you're the only person who won't chew his ear off. All things you've told yourself. He comes to you because maybe, possibly, potentially, somewhere deep deep inside, he loves you. That's your favorite excuse.
"You're really pretty, have I ever told you that?" You're so deep in thought you don't even realize those deep cerulean blue eyes are now studying your contemplative expression. When you calm your beating heart you turn your gaze back to his. "I thought you were sleeping?" "I was," He wraps his arm back around your waist, holding himself closer to you. "But you were tuggin' on my hair."
You hadn't even realized you'd been running your fingers through his hair until he pointed it out, though at some point in your thoughts it seems your hands had begun twisting around the raven locs. Upon said realization you immediately pull your hand away, only for him to reach out and pull it right back. "I didn't mind it that much doll." His smirk is enough to clear your mind.
He slowly rises from his position, moving to sit beside you, resting most of his weight on your shoulder with a groan. His hand reaches to his side, where a particularly nasty gash resided, thankfully sewn shut by you. Once the pain subsides he moves his hand to check your handy work. "Not bad, not bad at all." He turns that stupid smile back to you and it fries your brain. "Getting better and better every time."
It does make you smile. You weren't always so good at fixing him up. He'd come in almost every night needing you to patch him back up. It took awhile for you to be able to get him back in shape so fast. "Jay," A long while, actually. "I . . . I've been wondering?" You slowly proposition him. "Yeah? About what?" He is genuinely curious, and he knows that look on your face. He sits up, taking his weight off of you and resting against the arm of the couch.
"Just-nevermind, actually. It's stupid." You hold your hands in your lap. "It's not." He hates when you do that. When you shut yourself down before he even gets a chance to answer. "Ask me, I won't be mad." He leans in closer, his hand on your knee, and he strokes it how he always does. It takes a second to gain back your confidence. "Why-why do you always come to me when you're hurt? I just mean wouldn't it be better to go to Bruce, or Alfred, or I don't know, a doctor?"
The only thing worse than his smile is his laugh. Like an icy breeze on a hot summer's day, or a dark cold wave crashing down on a yellow beach. It warms your heart and makes you feel stupid for asking in the first place, all at the same time. "Why would I go to any of them? I like you." He likes you!!! You were right!!! "Because I'm not a professional. I can barely give you stitches, I don't know what I'd do if you were-if you," The quiver in your voice breaks his heart.
He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. "You don't need to worry about that. It's never gonna happen," He grabs your chin between his forefinger and his thumb and brings your gaze to his. "You take care of me, too much for me to be risky about that." You think you believe him, especially when he presses a kiss to your lips. Though you've tasted it a thousand times, you still wince at the taste of blood still clinging to his chapped lips.
He laughs when you grimace. "Sorry," He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He's quiet for a bit after that, silent as he holds you. Before too long he speaks again, breaking the, admittedly, uncomfortable silence. "I . . . I dunno why I always come to you. I guess I just . . . like it here. I like you." He's not looking at you when he says it, but you know he's being honest, and knowing him, he's understating.
It's enough for you, at least until next time. You relax into his body, satisfied. "I like you too Jaybird. I like you a lot."
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bby-deerling · 2 days
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Can you do a Headcanon about how they flirt with you 🫶🥰 with Law, Kid, Killer and Zoro
hehe sure, nonny! <3
flirting with you
ft. law, kid, killer, zoro (kid and killer's are a bit suggestive!)
masterlist || commissions
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zoro
he thinks he's being obvious when he purposely seeks you out, moving the location of his workouts near you so that you can spend quality time together while he trains. being near you, talking to you while he lifts that ridiculously big weight over his head, it all puts him on cloud nine.
however, once he realizes his actions could probably be misconstrued as simply getting to know you better, he gets a bit more blatant, seeking you out to take naps with him. at first he's content with you leaning against him, but he eventually gets bolder and uses the opportunity to "accidentally" end up holding you close to him.
he also loves to tease you; it's not malicious like the way he picks on sanji, but he can't help himself from bantering with you sometimes, especially if he catches you staring at him or sees your cheeks turning pink from his words.
kid
he does not beat around the bush. if eustass kid likes you, you will know. the lines he uses on you are somehow both ridiculously corny and shockingly crude. there's no reading between the lines; grasping for straws for any kind of platonic explanation leaves you coming up empty.
he is also relentless. unless you scream in his face and tell him you're not interested, under any circumstances, he sees you playing hard to get as part of the fun. he's rough around the edges, and likes a partner who can go back and forth with him and hold their own—as long as they eventually fold for him.
if you flirt back with him, he's bold enough to get touchy, no matter where you are. kid doesn't hesitate to pull you into his lap or nip lightly at your neck, even if there's dozens of eyes glued to the two of you.
killer
he is much more polite than his best friend. it's a bit hard to tell that he's interested due to not being able to see his face, but the way his voice softens when he talks to you is a dead giveaway.
he intently listens to whatever you have to say, and gets completely captivated by the conversation you're having; eventually, he ends up letting his hand drift and absentmindedly reach over to hold yours, carrying on as if nothing had changed.
as the night goes on, he'll get a bit bolder and wrap his arm around you, running his broad hands up and down your forearm as he holds you close; the two of you continue talking, but he gets more intimate with it and ends up murmuring things in your ear until both of you drop the pretense and head towards somewhere a bit more private.
law
he gives you special little privileges, hoping you'll take him up on them and choose to spend time with him. he leaves his office door cracked open, and tells you, and only you, that it's a sign that he's available to talk. when you end up slipping through the door and joining him, he's over the moon, but also very nervous. he's trying his best! he just wants to be perfect for you! he also shows you a little bit of favoritism, and purposely doesn't assign you the chores that you hate doing.
when the polar tang docks on a peaceful island, he brings you with him when exploring their new destination. he always says it's just luck of the draw, but after a while it becomes blatant that he wants you by his side. he'll often diverge from your current task to get coffee, or check out a used book store—he acts as if stops at these destinations are straying from his plans, but truthfully, he picked these places out before he even left the submarine.
once the two of you grow closer, he brings you all kinds of little thoughtful gifts and trinkets; he's always thinking of you, more than you know. he can't quite find the words to say it, so he's resolved himself to showing you instead.
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mggsv · 2 days
Text
I DONT SMOKE
playboy! j. jungkook x f!black reader || (18+) || reblogs would be appreciated!
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warnings : college party, mentions of smoking, smoking, smut, slight spanking, smoking during sex
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You hated partying. Not entirely..you’d have fun but it dies down quickly when you had no one to talk to. Boring.
You could stay inside and watch the smoke in the air, drinks ultimately being spilled, and sweaty bodies dancing and getting it on in the corner, or you could stay out outside of the large house.
Being in college was truly an experience for you. You just hated that it wasn’t as exciting for you as the movies made it out to be. “Fuck..” You scratch your head, groaning while pulling out your phone to get an uber. Campus wasn’t too far away.
“Ahshit- damnit.” You hear a faint curse, followed by failed attempts of a lighter being struck. Eyes followed the sound, and you couldn’t have regretted it more. Jeon Jungkook. It’s his party after all. Another reason why you didn’t want to be there.
You didn’t know him personally- only having met a few times. He couldn’t even remember your name if you offered $50. He was a lot of things your disliked. A playboy, a smoker, a hardcore party thrower. Not only that- he does it often, and the girls who brag about how good he is in bed…disgusting.
Now, it wasn’t you trying to put yourself up. You weren’t exactly an innocent person. You enjoyed drinking when in the mood, and you’ve slept with a few people. It’s just him. Bumping into each other became so tiresome for you that you changed route’s to your classes. Him generally just not giving a fuck is what pissed you off.
But now? Now he looks up from his cigarette. Now he slowly starts walking towards you, and you started to wish you had ordered that uber instead of being curious.
“Hey- do you have a light?”
“I don’t.” you hum, looking away from those eyes. Everything about the man was just..stunning, that you could admit. Down to the piercings on his lips to the ones in his ears, and onward to his tattoos and hair that curled past his ears. Truly a beauty. You clear your throat as you tapped your foot impatiently, phone somehow slipping into your pocket.
“Why not?” He asks, getting closer. Jungkook was..a curious one. He could snuff you out in an instant, from his view he knew you didn’t have a lighter.
“Why don’t you have a spare? Coming out here knowing your lighter didn’t work. Honestly, seems to me like you came outside and found an excuse to talk to me.” You found yourself grinning, but looking off to the side. Jungkook almost laughed, covered by a chuckle. Rocking on his heels, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Was it that obvious?”
I don’t like you. You wanted to say. Everyone knew you didn’t smoke, including him. You could be a party girl if you kept to it. It’s only on nights like this where you reject every pass made at you.
“I don’t smoke.” You sigh, defeated by your will to stay. “Then let’s get a drink.” he counters, smiling. Cheeky bastard.
“Not in the mood.” It was a game at this point. He wanted you, but you didn’t want to be his girl for the night. You didn’t do hookups. No one night stands. Anyone you’ve ever given your body to has stayed for at least a while. Knowing Jungkook he’d never commit.
“Let me drive you home then.” His hand snaked around your waist. “I have an uber coming-“
“Then i’ll wait out here with you.”
“Christ Jeon.” He starts laughing, and you couldn’t help but do the same. He does however, lean into your shoulder. You shiver at the coldness of the metal on his lip. “Let me take you back inside.”
No. you would day no. You didn’t like him, he’s a whore, and you have morals. You’re a woman of society! A man of his..whatever- would not influence you.
~
“Right..r-right there..” You did not say no. Face tucked into Jungkook’s pillow as his cock slipped into your folds once more, tip touching that spot inside of you that sent you over the edge. It’s been so long… “Oh!” You gasp, shuddering at the feeling of his slipping past your rings, and out..and in.
“Fuck..you feels so good. So good f’me hm?” He hums, pulling your hips back onto his cock, fully bottoming out inside of you while everything rested there..deep inside. “hm?” he asks once more, in a hum. He goes to give a slight smack to your ass, watching how it recoiled back. He was enchanted to say the least. From the very first time his eyes landed on your brown ones. Infatuated with every little thing you’ve done. And finally, he go you.
“Yes! y-yes..” You felt your eyes flutter as they rolled back, tips of his fingers stroking at your sensitive clit. Pussy swallowing around his thick cock. “Taking me in so well.” You’re his favorite girl. You weren’t aware, but mentally he was already thinking of the next time he’d get you like this. Ass up while he fucked you until the party’s over.
The thought of the party still going on while he plowed into you turned Jungkook on so much. “S-shit.” Pussy drunk was an amazing feeling, he didn’t get that feeling often.
Jungkook found himself reaching for the lonely cigarette and spare lighter from his headboard. Giving another smack to your ass- making you yelp- he strikes the lighter. You lift your head at the sound, looking back at him. Your face flushed, eyes watery, still, you fucked yourself on his length. He light the cigarette, the smoke seeping from his lips while he tipped his head back.
“Wanna hit?” he smirks, taking it from his mouth and trying to put it between your lips. You could kill him.
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fiapartridge · 1 day
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2/2. May I please request something with Jack? His girlfriend being nervous/insecure because not only does she not know his family/team mates/friends etc but she has no prior knowledge/experience with hockey (any sports/sport activities really) and boating etc. Just feeling out of place in a world where her boyfriend and his family are some of the best/most famous. Obviously take this in whatever direction you wish or ignore it. (I come from a family of artistic city people and my only extracurriculars were volunteering at libraries and museums, I am as boring as they come lol)
obsessed | jack hughes
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"i'm so obsessed with your ex..."
jack hughes x reader
summary: realizing that you have nothing in common with jack, you start to wonder why he even likes you in the first place.
warning(s): angst with a happy ending, cursing, luke and quinn being dicks sorry lol
fia's note 💌: VERYYY loose interpretation of this request LOL SORRY IF THIS IS ASS okayyy enjoy!
not proofread (i got lazy sorry lol)
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You should’ve known what you were getting into once you got into your relationship with Jack. You should’ve known that it would be hard; that dating a hockey player—a famous hockey player—would be hard, but you, for some reason, didn’t let that stop you. During times like these, you wish it did.
“So, Y/N, how’d you get into hockey?” Ellen asked from across the dinner table. You were too busy stuffing your plate to hear, and once the table fell silent, you knew she had asked you something. 
Embarrassed, you set your plate down, taking Jack’s hand instead. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
She laughed, and then the whole table laughed, and you felt your cheeks grow warmer and your body more tense. Was it that bad? “I asked how you got into hockey, honey.”
“Oh,” you smiled, turning to her. “I didn’t really get into hockey until I met Jack,” you said, leaning closer to him as he smiled softly in return. To be honest, you were glad that you hadn’t been into hockey, or any sports in general, prior to meeting Jack. He taught you how to score a goal, how to celly, and even how to take a hit on the ice. (Jack said he was hitting you just how he would any guy, but you knew he didn’t even put a 1/10th of his weight onto you. Then, he called you Hulk for not even realizing how hard it was. You thought he was bluffing; you still do.)
“You don’t play, or skate, or anything?” Jim asked, cutting into his steak and stuffing the small slice into his mouth.
You shook your head. “No, I, um, my family wasn’t really big on any of that.”
Poking his head up, Luke smiled towards Jack as he pointed his fork at the older boy. “Katy knew all about hockey.”
Katy? You tilted your head to Jack, silently asking who Katy was. It was like he was trying to not make eye contact with you, like he was embarrassed. For who? For you? For him? Slipping your hand out from his, you placed both of yours under your thighs, trying to still yourself from shaking. You shook when you were nervous. Jack knew and he was scared—scared that his family was gonna go ahead and ruin it all. 
Sensing your confusion, Luke nodded at you. “Katy was Jack’s girlfriend in high school. Lead scorer in her team’s league. She was legendary. Whatever happened to her, Jack?”
You felt your chest clench, and your hands underneath your thighs weren’t helping anything, and you couldn’t stop bouncing your knee, and Ellen was staring at you again. You just wished they would stop staring at you, like they were waiting for a reaction from you. 
“Luke, shut up,” Jack scolded, trying to grab your hand from under your thigh as you shook your head. You just wanted this to be over. You shouldn’t have agreed to meet his family. You shouldn’t have agreed to be with him. You were never going to be enough; not when there’s Katy; not when he had the most perfect girl for him, and he still chose to break up with her. When was he going to break up with you? Probably after this dinner. Probably after his family tells him that you’re not the one; that you’re not like Katy at all.
“I’m sorry,” you interrupted as Luke was just about to spew his rebuttal. You stood from your chair, laying your cloth napkin on the table as Jack looked up at you with concern. “Um, can I go to the bathroom?”
Quinn laughed. He laughed. He fucking laughed at you.
“Sure, honey,” Ellen smiled, silently scolding Quinn. “It’s in the hallway by the kitchen, third door on the right.”
“Thank you,” you said, not even looking up at anyone before quickly racing to the bathroom. 
Locking the door, you sat on the toilet cover, pulling out your phone, and immediately going to Instagram. He has to be following her. Someone has to be following her. And right when you searched up “Katy” on Luke’s Instagram following, there she was, in all of her hockey glory. The perfect girl. 
She had sandy blonde hair, ocean blue eyes, and she looked at least 5’8, maybe even taller. She wore designer brands that your bank account wouldn’t even allow you to look at, and God, she looked amazing in that dress. But somehow, in some possible way, she looked even better in her hockey gear. She still had posts with Jack in her tags. She’s sitting on his lap at a party, red Solo cups in hand as he stares at her with a look he had never given you. You can see the way she’s loved by everyone around her; the way Ellen holds her like a daughter; how Luke plays games with her like a sister; how Trevor carries her over his shoulder like they’re best friends. You’ve never felt that way with anyone close to Jack.
Even back in New Jersey, every time you went out with the team, you felt like you were just there. Like you were just wasted space. Sometimes you wondered if they even knew your name. You told them plenty of times, but Dawson still asks every time you see him, and Nico still gives you those sad pity smiles, like it’s another reminder that you don’t fit in with Jack and his friends.
Sometimes you even question it. Why are you with Jack? You’re total opposites. He loves hockey, you know nothing about the sport. You think staying in and knitting is fun when his ideal nights are going to parties and getting drunk off his ass. You guys don’t even look good together. You know who he looks good with? Katy. 
Katy. Katy. Katy.
You’ll never be Katy.
“Y/N?” A knock at the door took you out of your spiral as you stared at the wooden slab, too scared to open it and be met with his entire family laughing at you from the hallway. “Baby, it’s Jack. I,” he stammered. “I’m so sorry,” he apologized, his forehead resting on the door in front of him. I lost her, he thought. There’s no coming back from this. She hates me and my family, and I blew it. “I screamed at Luke; he had no right to talk to you like that. And Quinn’s getting yelled at by my mom as we speak. Please just—please let me in.”
Slowly, hesitantly, you opened the door, being met with a distressed Jack whose eyes were red and whose lips were swollen with the amount of chewing he was doing to them. It broke your heart to see him that way, but his family was right. Katy was perfect, and you’re nothing like her.
“Baby,” Jack stepped closer as you took a step back, ripping his heart into pieces. “Y/N.”
“You’re family’s right, Jack.” “No, they’re not,” he argued.
You nodded, frowning, and holding back a sob because it felt over. It felt so over. “They are. They are because what do we have in common, Jack? Nothing! We have nothing in common, and everybody sees it! Jack, I—”
“Don’t,” he shook his head. “Don’t say it. Don’t break up with me.”
“Jack—”
“Who the fuck cares?” he exclaimed. “Who cares if we have nothing in common? I like you, I want to be with you, you’re my person! I don’t see that with anyone else.”
Rolling your hand down your face, you let out a tired sigh. “You’re gonna see it, Jack. You’re gonna realize that I’m not your person; that I’m not the one you want; that I’m awkward and boring and don’t get along with anyone you care about, and you’re gonna break my heart. And that’s just how it is.”
“Are you listening to yourself right now? You think I could ever get tired of you? I like you because you’re nothing like my friends, or my family, or anyone I’ve ever dated. I broke up with Katy because her life was just hockey, and my life was just hockey, and everything was just hockey.” Stepping closer, he held your hips as your back hit the sink behind you. “I don’t want my life to be hockey. You’re the part of my life that I need. If I didn’t have you in my life, I think I’d go crazy,” he laughed as you rubbed your sleeve against your wet nose.
“You’re friends don’t like me.”
“Fuck them,” he grinned, running his thumbs up and down your waist. “Plus, you haven’t met Coley yet. Think he’d like you more than he likes me.”
“What’s he like?”
“Taylor Swift karaoke—”
“Sold,” you chuckled as he shook his head, smiling at you like you were the only girl in the world, because to him, you were. “So this Katy girl,” you said, raising your eyebrow slyly.
“Is irrelevant,” he answered. “I only have eyes for you, pretty girl.”
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aizawaz · 1 day
Text
Task Force 141 headcanons ; ass or tits
Trying to post somewhat consistently, so have this!!
Warnings: afab!reader , butt stuff (oral , fingering , plugs) , impact play , praise & degradation , brief mommy kink (I’m not sorry) , dirty talk , all the good stuff!
! NSFW under the cut !
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley - Tits
Simon is a man that definitely enjoys larger breasts, but ultimately he’s a ‘boobs are boobs’ guy. He’s addicted to the way your plush flesh spills over the cups of your bra (he bought it for you) that fits just a little too small for your taste (he did that on purpose).
Low-cut shirts are Simon’s favourite, he takes them almost as a challenge to see how long he can stare before his dick is hard and he’s all over you. He can never last more than a few minutes, eventually shoving his large and cold hands beneath your shirt to paw at your “perfect fuckin’ tits, dovey. Can’t help but touch ‘em.”
Titty slapper. 100%. Does it as a form of punishment if you were being particularly bratty that day, starting with firm taps to get you riled up before fully administering the punishment. He’s not entirely gentle with it either, slapping until your tits are red and you’re looking all sorry ‘n teary-eyed at him. Even then, Simon doesn’t budge. If anything, he gets crueler, now pinching and pulling on your sore nipples. “C’mon, y’can take it like a big girl, can’t ya?”
Cpt. John Price - Ass
Has a thing for buttplugs, especially if they can vibrate. The first time Price turned it on while deep in your pussy, he felt his entire spine tingle and was emptying his balls into you in seconds. Was hooked ever since but never uses it often. Likes to press down on the base with his thumb when it’s buried in your ass, gruffly chuckling when your hips jerk away.
Price is a simple man, he sees you with a skirt on and he’s sauntering over to slip his rugged hands beneath the flimsy fabric and grab a handful. Not wearing any panties underneath? Even better, makes everything easier for him. He fondles your ass like it’s nothing but putty, looking over your shoulder to observe how malleable you are and groaning in your ear the whole time. “Hope you weren’t goin’ anywhere looking like this, love. Can’t have anyone lookin’ at what’s mine.”
Similar to Simon, Price uses spanking as a punishment. However, he’s not easing you into it like Simon. As soon as his patience is tested, he’s bending you over his knee to teach you a lesson. Don’t expect to leave his lap until his handprint is welted in your skin, angry and red and just the way Price likes it. “Maybe next time you’ll be obedient and listen to your Captain, yeah?”
Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish - Ass
Soap’s an ass eater, I gotta say it. He adores the soft squeal you make when his tongue strays from your drenched pussy to instead prod and lick at your asshole. He’s absolutely filthy with it too, slurping and huffing like a starved animal because the taste of you drives Soap absolutely mad.
He will slip in a finger or thumb while he’s hitting it in doggy, it always makes you clench so much tighter around his cock and Soap swears he goes dumb for a second when he feels it. “Christ, bonnie. Y’like me playin’ with your li’l ass, huh? Greedy li’l thing.”
Wear yoga pants/shorts around this man and you’re not leaving without him getting a good feel. Comes up behind you and presses his already hard dick into you, grinding against and delivering a sharp slap to your ass. His hands are merciless, groping and squeezing your pliant skin all while murmuring under his breath about how you’re “just askin’ to be fucked, walkin’ around like tha’.”
Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick - Tits
Gaz would live between your boobs if he could, no matter the size. As long as he has something to latch his lips to, he has zero complaints. He could spend hours just kissing and sucking your tits if you’d let him, thinks it’s so intimate feeling how your nipple pebbles against his tongue and your heart hammers against his lips.
Push-up bras are Gaz’s bread and butter, they get him so hard and if you pair it with a low-cut shirt he’s cumming in his pants the moment his eyes find your cleavage. He cannot stop staring either, watching every delicious jiggle of your perky boobs as you do mundane tasks around the apartment. “Fuck, babe, you’re drivin’ crazy. I swear you’re doin’ it on purpose.”
Gaz is his most vulnerable when he has your tits in his mouth, and he’s not ashamed to admit that. Having Gaz in your lap, stroking his weeping cock and whispering soft praises into his ear as he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, gets him closer to heaven than anything else. “You have the prettiest tits, momma. Love you so much.”
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shushbambi · 2 days
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r.c. ┆ 1:01pm.
𓏲 ෆ ˖ ˙ 𓂃 a lil self-indulgent piece.
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"you're like... really, really pretty, y'know?" rafe slurred lazily, bringing his lips to press against your jaw, inhaling the feminine, vanilla scented perfume you always wore, knowing it drove him crazy.
you couldn't help but giggle, batting your long, wispy lashes up at the oldest cameron boy, your glossy lips forming into a cute, enticing pout—just begging for rafe to kiss you, to devour you.
"nah, n-nah... c'mon baby, forreal, when you gonna let me take you out on a date, huh?" rafe questions with a light laugh, his steel blue eyes gazing down at you intensely, making you squirm in his lap from his constant attention.
"y-you... you really wanna take me out?" you squeak girlishly, doe-like eyes wide and misty from the sweet, fruity cocktails rafe had been supplying you all night long—nothing but the best for his girl.
"yeah, yea..." rafe chuckled tipsily, swinging a thick, broad arm around your shoulders, a possessive glint in his eyes, while tugging you closer to his side, practically caging you, needing to make you his—now.
"been dreamin' 'bout eating that sweet little pussy for soo long," he continues in a low, lazy drawl, showing off his confident, carefree attitude—and you cannot help the way that your little pink lace panties were dripping, flooding the fabric in anticipation with the need to have rafe's cock pounding relentlessly into you—fast, hard and full of longing until he filled you with his hot, scorching load.
instead, you let out a small, breathless little giggle, gently removing his large bicep from around your shoulder, giving him a pretty, apologetic smile.
"i.. ‘m so sorry, rafe—but i can't," you protest meekly, readying yourself to stand on your wobbly feet, your six inch heels much too high due to your less than sober state.
luckily, rafe was already two steps ahead of you, rising swiftly and cradling you against his hard, broad chest, allowing you to smell the liquor, musk, and something else that was entirely rafe that made your drunken senses need him—fuck, you needed him.
rafe gave you a lazy smirk, holding you up against him as he leaned down towards your ear, his soft lips brushing against the shell of your ear, making you shiver and paw at his hard, broad chest in a needy, whiny way which only make the oldest cameron chuckle lowly.
"another time then, princess," he promises, his mind already spiraling about how he would get you safely home—whether you knew it or not, you were already his girl.
instantly, you begin to protest weakly, a cute, glossy pout forming on your very kissable, plump lips, making rafe feel like he was losing his mind with being unable to fuck you properly—soberly.
sweetly, rafe holds you snuggly against his tall, intimidating figure, his strong arms wrapped around you possessively, needing you close for his own peace of mind.
"don't worry, baby," rafe coos sickeningly sweet into your ear as he leans down, brushing his soft lips against the skin right below your earlobe, feeling you squirm and whine in a needy, girlish voice for him, making him release another deep, breathless chuckle.
"i'll take care of ya next time, yea?" he promises with a slight mocking to his voice, giving the delicate skin of your flushed neck one last, lingering kiss, before pulling back up to his normal height to tower over you, his eyes already looking down at your flustered features, observing your helpless, needy face.
fuck, you were so pretty.
"gonna be a good girl an' wait for daddy, yea?" rafe asks with a hint of condescension, his nasally, rich-boy tone of voice making your pussy clench around nothing—and oh, you can already feel his dark eyes sparkling with amusement as your glossy lips pouted, before giving a small, reluctant nod of your pretty head.
"see?" rafe asks smugly, "always been daddy's good little girl."
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thehighladywrites · 10 hours
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— “I’m just a girl!”
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☀︎ — pairing: nerd/tutor azriel x bimbo/ditzy reader
☀︎ — summary: you tell azriel you don’t know what taxes are, and that you haven’t filed them ever
☀︎ — warnings: fluff, dramatic reader, azriel being sweet and educational
☀︎ — amara’s note: man i wish i was her rn💔 also this is so fucking real bc what on earth are taxes???
series masterlist
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“Baby, please, you have got to grasp the gravity of this situation. Not filing your taxes is no joke. You could end up behind bars for tax evasion! There was a whole mandatory course last semester, didn’t you take it?” Azriel's tone is firm, his concern painted all over his face as he stands infront of you.
When you revealed that you didn't know what taxes were or how to "file" them, Azriel got worried sick, emphasizing the importance of understanding basic responsibilities like this.
He brought you into the living room, seated you on the sofa, and stood in front of you, carefully explaining step by step why not filing taxes was illegal and how to fix the situation. However, no matter how hard you try, you can't focus on his words, your attention completely consumed by his built muscles. Your mind goes blank as you find yourself daydreaming about him taking off his shirt.
Azriel knows you’re not focusing on his words, he knows you’re ogling his body, and even though he gets warm and loves it, he needs you to focus on the topic, at least for a few minutes.
“Are you paying attention, baby?”
You honestly don’t get it at all. Like, if they take tax from you when you’re shopping, shouldn’t they already know how much you owe or whatever? And who even are the IRS? Can’t you just live your life without all this complicated stuff? Why does Azriel have to make everything so...ugh, what's the word? Complicated?
“Oh my god, Azzie! Stop it, I don’t wanna do this and I don’t understand anything. Please, I’m just a girl!” you exclaim dramatically pulling your knees to your chest as you hide your face in your hands, tears prickling in your eyes. You’re feeling completely overwhelmed by the situation and the sheer thought of dealing with stupid taxes.
Azriel sighs deeply, his brows furrowing as he takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. If he doesn’t have a gray hair by the end of the week, he’ll consider it a win. As much as he wants you to understand what is wrong with basically committing a crime, he doesn’t want you crying, he feels sick to his stomach seeing you so sad but he just has to fucking ask.
“You’re—You're just a girl— sweetheart, what does that even mean?” he asks gently, completely flabbergasted by your statement.
You fold your arms over your chest, chin held high as you say, “Ya heard me, m’just a girl. And that means i should not be doing any of this, i should be living my best life instead of thinking about whatever taxes are.”
Azriel just looks at you with raised eyebrows, man you’re stressing him the fuck out. Luckily he caught your illegal activities early otherwise you would have gone to prison for sure. Even though he thinks it was ridiculous for a person to have never done their taxes ever, he doesn’t hold you against it. He just slumps his shoulders, taking a breather. Azriel can never be mad at you, never at his sweet angel. Especially not when you look so upset, big sparkly eyes looking at him with worry.
It’s in that moment. That tiny moment, he decides to never confront you with your mistakes. Sure you almost went to jail, but Azriel is here now. He is intelligent enough to think about the more serious issues for the both of you. And he will for the rest of his life, not because he has to, but because he wants to. He wants to take care of you.
“You’re right, my love, you shouldn’t worry about this. I’ll take care of it,” Azriel assures you, his tone gentle as he tucks a strand behind your ear.
You look up at him, eyes shiny with unshed tears as your face lights up before you stand up and jump into his arms, showering his face with kisses, your excitement bubbling over.
“Awe, you're the best baby, I love you so, so, soooo much!” you exclaimed, your words flowing freely in your ditzy excitement.
He laughs shyly, still getting nervous when you show him affection. “I love you too, beautiful.”
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valeskafics · 5 hours
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"Combat" - Feyd Rautha x Princess!Reader
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a/n: grouped a few anon requests together along with one from @the-shadow-queen02 🩷
Summary: When he is excluded from a competition to win your hand, Feyd decides he will not let something so insignificant as an invitation stop him.
TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, fighting, mentions of scars, feyd's black cum, fluff, handjob, p in v sex, inkpie
Word Count: 2,300
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dune characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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For most of Feyd Rautha’s young life, his uncle has been planning and plotting to secure a match between him and either the Princess Irulan or you, her older sister. You are, of course, the more desirable match of the two. If Feyd marries you, he becomes Emperor upon your father’s passing.
However, when the Baron suggests such a match to your father, he is quickly rebuffed. Your father proclaims that you will marry if and when you so choose. It is unheard of, truth be told, but then again? You always were the Emperor’s little darling. Many say if the man has a weakness, it is you. His fearsome first-born. While Irulan was trained in the way of the Bene Gesserit, you chose an alternate path. From what Feyd has heard of you, you are a legendary warrior in your own right. You have trained with your father’s Sardaukar soldiers from your early childhood, and have grown into a fearsome fighter. Your father has even sent you to put down rebellions in far-reaching systems - ones where he was confident that you would not get hurt.
Feyd always finds himself looking forward to news of you. You fascinate him. A woman who finds joy in fighting and training is a woman after his own heart. So, he allows his uncle’s aspirations to take root, convincing himself that being paired off with you is not only inevitable, but something to look forward to. He has seen portraits of you, of course. Your fighting prowess is only outmatched by your beauty. It makes him all the more eager for when the day of your union finally comes.
When the time finally comes and you decide that you are willing to get married, it is announced to members of the Imperium that you will only wed a man who can best you in combat. This is the only way you can deem them worthy of being your husband. The idea of a tournament of sorts, one where you are the champion, is exciting to Feyd, and he finds himself eagerly awaiting for his invitation to arrive, training vigorously, knowing that there is no way the Emperor will neglect one of his most loyal vassal Houses.
And yet he does. Perhaps it is a mistake that Feyd is not invited. That has to be it, right? After all, House Harkonnen is in good standing with the Emperor. It makes no sense for Feyd not to be invited. At least, that’s what he tries to tell himself. His uncle takes it as an insult, of course, stating that he would not have wanted his line to mix with that of the weakling Emperor anyway. Feyd knows that is a blatant lie.
Not one to be deterred, he continues training, doing his best to improve his skill in anticipation of fighting you. After all, he is a man who gets what he wants. And the only woman he wants, the only woman who could ever satisfy him is you.
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Feyd arrives in disguise the morning of the tournament, admiring you from afar as you train with the Sardaukar soldiers. You are every bit as beautiful as your pictures. And your fighting skill is unparalleled. He has never seen anyone move with such lethal grace, such precision. It is more like you are dancing than fighting, easily avoiding being hit and instead managing to land your fair share of palpable hits. You are just as impressive as he dreamed you would be.
As if sensing his gaze on you, you turn to face him. Your hair falls in your face as you move to stand, a smirk playing on your lips as you walk over to him.
“A masked contender?” You ask, your voice a playful lilt as you begin circling him.
Feyd chuckles, “Yes, Princess. Is that a problem?”
“Not a problem,” you hum, stopping in front of him, your eyes moving up and down his form appraisingly as you twirl your blade deftly between your fingertips, his gaze drawn to the sight, “I just usually like seeing the faces of the men I manage to put on their backs.”
“Perhaps this man will put you on yours, Princess.”
You laugh, and the sound is almost musical to him as you saunter away, the natural sway of your hips all but entrancing him, “You’re a funny one, my mysterious masked friend. It’ll be fun knocking you to the ground. I like them cocky.”
“Then you’re going to love me.”
You glance back at him over your shoulder, giving him one last amused smile before disappearing from sight.
Feyd has never thought of himself as a romantic. Not once in his life. But everything changed the moment he saw you. Now, he’s consumed by thoughts of you, of holding you in his arms, kissing you, having you all to himself. His princess. His fearsome warrior princess.
The tournament begins in earnest and Feyd watches with a grin on his face as you defeat your opponents one by one. He sees some of the most fearsome fighters in the known universe go toe to toe with you and be defeated with ease. You are formidable, for lack of a better word. He has never seen anyone fight like you, not even back on Giedi Prime. He can’t even begin to imagine what you’ll be like in the bedchamber, what fire you might bring there.
He watches as you manage to take down Paul Atreides with only a few well-timed hits, tiring him out, grinning victoriously as you raise your first in the air to the cheers of all those present on Corrino. The applause is thunderous, shaking the ground as you yell out, asking if there is any other man present who dares challenge you. Feyd walks toward the arena, passing the Atreides boy as the latter is leaving. The younger man gives him a grimace, rubbing his shoulder.
“Good luck to you, friend,” he mumbles, “That isn’t a woman. That’s a hellbeast.”
Despite having no good feelings toward the boy or his house, Feyd cracks a smile and chuckles slightly at his words, pitying him. After all, the future Duke has just been humiliated. One has to feel somewhat bad for him.
Feyd strides onto the combat field, his face still concealed by his mask. You smirk at him.
“My masked friend. Select your weapon of choice and we shall begin.”
He grabs a blade, not dissimilar from yours, checking its balance before nodding to himself and turning to face you, “May thy knife chip and shatter.”
You let out a quiet laugh before nodding, “May thy knife chip and shatter, friend.”
The two of you circle each other, your blade held in front of your face as you anticipate his movements. But Feyd knows he is unlike any other opponent you have gone up against. Your eyes go wide at how quickly he lunges at you, nearly managing to tackle you to the ground. You manage to dodge his advance in the nick of time. He can tell you found it too close for comfort. And before you can right yourself, he lunges again, this time managing to throw you off balance, smirking to himself as you stumble, catching yourself.
“Not bad,” you compliment, standing again, launching yourself at him, your blade clashing against his in a desperate attempt to regain your dominance, “What planet do you come from, my masked friend?”
Feyd does not answer, instead lunging at you once more, his body pinning yours to the ground. You stare up at him, your eyes wide as you grapple with him, doing your best to use your hips to push him off of you. But he is relentless. And eventually, you begin to tire.
And, to everyone’s surprise, the warrior princess yields. You stare up at Feyd, breathlessly voicing your defeat.
“I yield.” The two of you gaze into each other’s eyes for a long moment, the silence in the arena deafening as you question, your voice uncharacteristically soft, “And might I finally learn the identity of my champion? My husband?”
He smirks at your words and removes his mask, unveiling himself as na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. And you do not shy away. You simply reach a hand out to caress his cheek. He has never been touched like this before. So gently, with so much care. Your hands are calloused, much as his are, your arms littered with scrapes and bruises from your endeavors. And each one of them is beautiful. He thinks he could spend eternity trying to count them, to place a kiss to every single one.
“Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” you murmur, “My husband.”
“My princess,” he rasps, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes closing, “My wife.”
And despite your father’s protests, you rise to your feet, lifting Feyd’s arm in the air beside yours, beaming out at the crowd, “I wish to pronounce na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen my champion. And my future husband.”
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The night of your wedding comes quicker than either of you anticipate. After the ancient Harkonnen rites are completed, you and Feyd stand in front of the bed you are meant to share from this day forward. Feyd, for his part, is unsure of what to do. He has never been with a princess, after all, much less one he is meant to spend the rest of his life with.
Much less one he has loved since before he even met them.
You take his hand gently, bringing it to your face. Again, he feels that strange thudding in his chest, like someone has plunged their hand into his ribcage and is squeezing his heart. Your voice is gentle, unlike the way it sounds when the two of you are in public.
“Don’t be afraid.”
“Why would I be afraid of you? I bested you in combat?” He gives what could almost be considered a nervous chuckle.
You shake your head, your thumb running along his cheekbone before you pull him along to the bed, “You don’t have to wear a mask around me anymore. I know who you are. I accept all of you. I love all of you. Let me show you my love.”
Feyd gasps as you press your lips to his in a tender first kiss. He never expected this from you. He has never felt this before. Never in his life has he thought of himself as worthy of gentleness, of tenderness. But here, he is like wet clay in your hands, his lips eagerly chasing yours every time you break away for air. You gently push him down on the bed, undoing his shirt, your palms tracing over his pale, smooth skin. You press a kiss to his chest, down to his stomach before undoing the buttons on his trousers. Your strokes are featherlight and gentle even on his cock, your thumb pressing softly against the vein that runs along its underside, making him let out a choked moan.
You pull your hand back and he lets out a noise of protest at the absence of your touch, but you merely spit on your hand and begin again. And you gaze at him with the sweetest, kindest eyes he has ever seen in his life. He hardly knows what to do with himself, his breath quickening as you bring him closer and closer to the edge.
“You’re beautiful,” you say softly, “We may be warriors in the arena. Even in the bedchamber at times, I don’t mind. But tonight? Let me be gentle with you. Let me show you what the touch of a lover can feel like.”
He nods, feeling weak and pathetic as his eyes water ever so slightly. He grabs your wrist, moving your hand away.
Feyd’s voice is low and husky as he speaks, “I want to be inside you.”
You smile, moving away from him just enough to slip out of your dress, revealing your bare body to him. It is not unblemished. You have scars, the scars of a warrior. And as you join your body with his, a low moan erupting from his lips, he presses a kiss to one on your shoulder, one on your chest. He’ll commit every scar to memory, watch as they begin to fade over time. But his love for you, his desire never will.
You move against him, his hands resting on your hips, your hair falling like a curtain around the two of you, protecting you from the outside world, from the expectations of his family and your own.
Feyd watches as you move your hand between where your bodies join to circle your swollen pearl. He pauses for a moment before sitting up, pulling you into a kiss, his hand replacing yours as he rolls his thumb against you, his breath mixing with yours as you reach your peak, moaning his name against his lips.
He reaches his own soon after, finding himself utterly spent, the sight of his black seed trickling down your thigh as you lay down beside him bringing a slight smirk to his lips.
No, not a smirk. A smile.
It was never like this with his Harpies, nor any lover he’s had before. He chuckles as you bite down gently on his shoulder, giving you an amused look as you gaze up at him.
“You’re like a little kitten,” he teases, wrapping his arms around you, a sense of calm coming over him, the likes of which he’s never felt before, “Go on, Princess. It’s alright.”
You laugh softly, biting again, your eyes slowly closing as you mumble, “You had best get some rest before our next round husband. I have no intention of being gentle this time around.”
He looks forward to that.
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star-centric · 2 days
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A random thought that came to me but I just loveeee Lucifer being so soft/clingy and trying to deny it.
Lucifer being the type to tell his brothers to leave you alone and give you your space after you return to the human realm, but still finds himself absentmindedly clicking on your text thread, thumb hovering over the send button with words already typed out. He scoffs and finally gets some sense into him, he doesn’t need to bother you (but instead he scrolls through the past messages, and can’t bring himself to delete those or the message he was about to send).
The house is quiet without you around, and even though his brothers complain about your absence still, he tells them to just deal with it. This couldn’t be your home forever, he knew that- but he still finds himself stopping in front of your door as he makes his nightly rounds. The silence gets to Lucifer too, and his fingers linger on the door knob for far too long. Your room is still the same as you left it, and it takes Lucifer a few moments of sitting on your bed to realize that he even stepped foot into the room. It takes him even longer to leave, wanting to keep taking in your scent as if you were still here. (He didn’t want to break out of the illusion just yet).
Lucifer gets lost in his thoughts more ever since you left, the memories of you consuming his mind by the day. He knew the moment was inevitable- that you would had had to return back to your home eventually. But by Diavolo, he didn’t think it would affect him this immensely.
His pride won’t let him admit out loud, but he misses you so much. He craves your touch, your presence, your lips, everything- he finds it hard to unwind from the day without knowing your current state. Even his aged bottle of Demonus does nothing to relax his nerves since you’re not here.
When Lord Diavolo needs to head to the human realm for a small errand, Lucifer wastes no time in offering to go in his place. He argues that Diavolo has more important tasks that take precedent than this, and his dear friend laughs it off, no doubt picking up on why he really wants to go. He would tease him more, but why waste anymore of his time? Diavolo wishes him safe travels, and Lucifer proceeds to ignore his and Barbatos knowing smirks.
It doesn’t take long for Lucifer to reach his destination and take care of the errand. He’s trying to convince himself that he’s just taking a small break before returning back to his work in the Devildom, taking in the fresh air and sun at a small cafe. The black coffee he’s sipping on is nowhere near the bitterness he’s used to from the hell coffee that you make him, but it would make due.
He’s almost done when he hears his name called, and turns around to see you, frozen and mouth agape. He doesn’t complain when you come barreling towards him, shock wearing off as you grin ear to ear practically jumping onto him-
He doesn’t complain, instead taking you in and holding you tight, not even hiding his smile.
It’s no secret that Lucifer, along with everyone else, wants you back home. He knows that eventually he’ll get back to work, but is it so wrong to make sure that you’re safe with his own eyes?
He keeps trying to convince himself of that being the only reason why he’s sharing this moment with you, but after you pepper him with kisses, even he can’t believe his own lies.
Lucifer really does miss you.
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