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Gojo Satoru SFW alphabet (NB)

HELLO ALL. This is part one of my super awesome 100 follower celebration! Coming up next is the Gojo Satoru NSFW Alphabet, and, despite all that is good and holy, the Katsuki Bakugou SFW/NSFW alphabet. I know he didn't win the poll, but so many of my followers are here for Katsuki centric content, so it only makes sense to me.

In this, the reader is as nb as I could make them while sticking to my concepts, although there is a "I wanna get u pregnant tee hee" joke that you should probably be aware of.

Cred for template goes to ONE MORE SHOT

Word count: ~6000

Warnings: Cursing, light angst, and...that's it, I think!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) He prefers physical affection above all else...at least, that's what you'd think based on how much he hangs on you when you're together. Always he's touching you, making it so there was no question about whether or not you were together. Truly though, that was just for you. He liked it, loved it, loved any form of affection to and from you, but The thing that gave him the most butterflies was acts of service from you.

He was so used to doing everything for himself, and to being better than others at everything, that he never really knew what it was like to be cared for in that way.

Anyone could technically hug him, or spend time with him, or give him gifts, or tell him he did something good...but only you could make him breakfast before he gets a chance to, or do the dishes more efficiently, or beat a part of a game he can't for some reason. It makes him weak in the knees, like he can relax with you.

"Whatcha doin?"

"Makin' your lunch for tomorrow. Why?" You glance over to him, smiling as you watched him curiously peer over your shoulder.

"...No reason..." He mumbled, a smile growing on his face about as fast as that blush. He brings his arms around your waist, his chin on your head as he watched you work.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You are his best friend. No doubt about it. If you weren't he wouldn't be dating you, it only made sense to him. Was he yours...? He didn't actually know, and to be honest he didn't care. If he wasn't, he'd definitely tease you about it, but otherwise he was perfectly content treating you like his bestie.

"I'm going out with my friends," you called out, slipping on your shoes.

"Why? What about me?" Satoru whined, staring at you with a sarcastic pout from the couch.

"We're gonna be drinking," you laughed, raising your brows.

"...so?"

"So you're a lightweight."

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He's a cuddler, but a lazy cuddler 9 times out of 10. His arm gently around you on the couch as you rest your head on his shoulder. His cheek on your scalp as you do literally anything that requires you to stand still (cooking, on the train, grocery shopping). Still, there's that one time where he holds you like you might dissipate if he doesn't.

Maybe after a nightmare, maybe after a mission a bit more dangerous than he or you let on, whatever it was, it was like he might lose you.

He does it when you're asleep, when he thinks you're not conscious enough to feel him being soft. The only reason you know is because sometimes he wakes you up with it, and he's too emotional to notice.

you'd be laying in bed with Satoru, nearly one in the morning, sleeping peacefully. Then, you feel his arms wrap around you, tight enough to wake you up. His mouth would be pressed to the top of your head, his breath slow, as if he were savoring the scent of you.

"You won't leave me, right...?" He wasn't talking to you, really he was talking to himself.

"...nah. You wouldn't..."

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

You know those people who try to go to the gym to get their life together, but really just like the aesthetic and can't follow through? That's Satoru with Domestic life. He'd love to settle down in one spot with you and do all the cute domestic things, like cook dinner every night and go grocery shopping every week, but he just can't focus for that long, he always has to be moving. Changing apartments, trying new restaurants, going wherever on a whim, they were all things he loved and domestic life lacked.

That's what he thinks, and that's what you let him think, but little does he know he hasn't moved in three years (a record for him), You've been "sleeping over" for the entirety of those three years, and you take turns making meals any time you're together, as well as split household chores.

Kids are another thing, he wouldn't willingly have kids. If you two conceived, or somehow managed to accidentally receive a child, he'd be content taking care of it with you, but truthfully he likes the calm personal life he lives, not to mention the fact that it wouldn't be ethical to him to raise a child while living such a dangerous life.

"Have you ever thought about having kids?"

"...getting you pregnant? sure. Kids...not so much."

"ok, good. I don't really want them either."

"We can still try for one, though~"

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He loves you too much to end it for reasons other than external forces, so there are two ways I can write this. One...

He makes himself the bad guy. Being flaky, being extra condescending, ignoring you more. He distances himself in the hopes that you see how bad he's being and call it off. He never wants you to think that he doesn't love you, or that he could ever find anyone better, so he acts like he's the shittiest boyfriend to ever boyfriend. Of course, you inevitably see through this, and he has to be honest.

"Listen...I...We can't do this anymore. You've been through a lot, I've been through a lot, and if we stay together, there are things out there that'll just make it worse. I might be selfish, but I'm not selfish enough to keep you with me when I know it'll hurt you."

And, prompt two would be...

Satoru breaking up with anyone but you, people he doesn't care about...He's ruthless. He could be with his partner at the time in the middle of a date, probably on his phone from the amount of boredom he experiences simply from being in the presence of this person, when he just announces, "Let's break up."

"H-huh?!"

"Yeah, fun while it lasted, it's not you it's me, all that," he sighs, walking off to find something else to quell his boredom.

I would like to say that personally, I think that most of his dating happened early in life, teens to early 20s, before he realized how difficult it would be in his line of work for numerous reasons and eventually gave up. Until he met you, of course.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He is constantly talking about marrying you. He "proposes" once a week, you'd think you were already his fiancé by now.

his head in your lap as he watches you click away on your phone? "Marry me~"

You doing the dishes as he comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist? "I'd consummate a wedding so hard with you right now~"

Doing- well, uh, this third example can wait for the NSFW portion.

Long story short, he constantly talks about it, but neither of you truly predict a wedding. First of all, you wouldn't even take his name because of how dangerous it is to be tied to the Gojo clan, and second of all...you're kinda already married. You have everything but the ring and the paper.

You live together, you'll never leave each other (unless a situation like in E arises, in which case it'd be especially helpful to not have the shared legal documents a wedding would bring), and you cook and clean for each other.

Lastly, he doesn't see the appeal. He understands the want to celebrate love, but to him, he doesn't need one special day when he can make every day special. Why buy you one ring for one day when he could buy you a new ring every day? Why put on nice clothes and promise to give you the world one measly evening when he could do just that every Saturday? He was just fine being your forever boyfriend.

"Mmm...Let's have a spring wedding," Satoru cooed, holding you by your hips as you chopped vegetables.

"There's too much pollen in the spring," you countered, an amused smile on your face.

"Winter then?"

"Too cold."

"Summer?"

"Too hot."

"...I'm beginning to think you might not actually wanna marry me." You could just hear the smile in his tone.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

In the SFW sense, he treats you like glass, physically at least. He kisses you with a sort of soft passion, like he wants you to melt in his arms...and you do. He holds you with feather light brushes of his hand, caressing your body and face because you're a work of art. He never wants you to be afraid of him, and although he knows you're strong enough to handle him, he couldn't bear the thought of losing you because he's too rough. He's gentle because he knows what he has.

Emotions are different, they're hard for him, and seeing as he's been through so much he doesn't understand why you get worked up over "little things." When you rant about something annoying that happened to you, he listens, but he doesn't empathize. He's on your side, always, but he's rather indifferent to your daily issues. Because of this, It makes you feel like you can't tell him things because it won't merit the reaction you want from him. He'll try for you, though.

"And so he said that I was being irrational, but I wasn't being irrational, I was..." You trailed off, looking at Satoru's sympathetic yet empty smile. "Do you think I was being irrational?"

"No! Of course not..." he said quickly, sitting up a little straighter. Did he? Well...He didn't...not think you were being irrational...but he also didn't agree with that other guy. Fuck that other guy.

"Well you have to tell me if you do, I don't wanna look stupid..."

"Relax, babe," he sighed, although it wasn't clear even to himself if he was referring to the situation or to you thinking he thought you were in the wrong.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

As I said before, he's constantly hanging on you, his hugs ranging anywhere from a quick squeeze to a desperate clutch. He just always wants to be touching you. That said, he only gives hugs to you. If one of his students or even a colleague hugs him, he'd be fine with that, but he only willingly gives hugs and physical affection to you.

"Whatcha doin?" You looked up at your boyfriend from your seat in front of the couch, who had a controller in his hand, his legs on either side of your body.

"playin video games." That's not what you were asking about, and he knew that.

"...is me being here really necessary?" You glanced down at his arms, which were resting on your shoulders and caging your head between them as his eyes stayed locked on the screen.

"Uh- y- fuck, fuck fuck fuck," he muttered, before GAME OVER scrawled across the screen in big letters. He feigned sadness, using it as an excuse to lean over you, pull you closer to him, and press his face next to yours. "Damn it, now you've gotta make me feel better..."

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

You two were friends long before you started dating, and you didn't start dating until he knew he loved you...or rather, he knew it was safe to. You were strong enough to hold your own against his enemies, so he would never have to worry about you getting hurt, and therefore he could love you without being afraid.

That said, he didn't tell you he loved you until after you told him.

Truth be told...he forgot about it. He was so exited to be able to love you freely that he forgot about actually telling you, after all he had shown it loads before without words.

"Satoru...I love you..." you whispered nervously, confessing to him late at night in his arms.

"Uh-" he practically choked on air, not about the fact that you told him you loved him, but specifically about the fact that you were nervous. You seriously didn't think he'd say it back? Was he that confusing?

"I love you too," he announced quickly, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Jealousy? He can't comprehend it. He's not jealous in the slightest, he knows he's special, and he knows you know. That said, he does take the time to remind you how great he is when someone else tries to flirt with you. Buying you a random gift, showering you with praise, doing you a service, whatever it is he thinks he needs to do. It's almost like he's trying to prove it to the other person, even if they're not necessarily there to see it.

"No, Sorry," you say gently to the man who just asked for your number. He wasn't aggressive towards you, he took your rejection nicely, but what bothered Satoru was the fact that he was standing right there. Did he not look enough like your boyfriend? Was he not clearly holding your shopping bags?

He also gave the man a superficial smile, bringing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him. "You're too hot for the public, I should keep you inside forever," he teased, kissing your scalp.

He's really not a jealous person. He doesn't worry about anyone taking you away, but he also doesn't want anyone to forget you're his.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Kisses everywhere, all the time. He kisses your head the most, because that's the easiest access for him, but he will and has kissed every inch of your body. He kisses you in different places in different ways for different reactions, and it's all entirely dependent on both of your moods. Trying to cheer you up? A quick peck on the cheek, accompanied by a goofy grin. snuggled up in bed, spooning? a couple kisses on your arm, or little smooches below and slightly behind your ear. I could make a chart of all the kisses and what they mean.

Personally, he likes kisses from you most when he needs them. Nothing eases him better than resting his head on your shoulder as you plant gentle kisses to his forehead. All kisses are loved equally by him, but if he had to pick one kind...those would be it. He couldn't live without them.

You stood in front of the mirror for a moment, frowning slightly as you took a glance at yourself. You didn't feel the most confident today. With a sigh, you moved on, walking back into the bedroom. Satoru saw all of this and knew exactly what was going on, crazy considering the moment lasted all of 3 seconds, and he made his way over to you.

He stood right in front of you, blocking you from your path.

"What're you doing," you ask, laughing a little as he looked down at you curiously.

He smiled, taking your hand by the ends of your fingers, bringing it up to his face as he said, "Nothing..."

He planted a long kiss to your knuckles, giving you those bedroom eyes that made your stomach flutter. "Just admiring you~"

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He finds Little ones entertaining as hell, but as I said before, he wouldn't want one at home. That said, there are some pros and cons to Satoru being around children.

First of all, god forbid they play something competitive because Satoru Gojo isn't taking an L from a 6 year old, that's for sure. tag, hide and seek, pinball, Mario kart, he's crushing spirits in all of them.

Another thing, he treats kids like they're little adults, which is great from a respect standpoint, but not so great when they talk shit. He does not care if he hurts a kid's feelings if they say something rude.

"My mom says you're a Psychopath," the 10 year old says, grinning.

"Yeah? Well my mom says you suck, and also you're bad at math," Satoru says, sticking his tongue out.

On a similar note of taking children too seriously, playing pretend is an art form to him. A friend's kid wants to play magical fairy princesses? He IS a magical fairy princess. His name is Vanessa and he has a magic wand made of glitter and dreams.

Yeah, he thinks kids are the best from an entertainment standpoint, but he knows he's not responsible enough to have any...at least not yet.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He's a morning person to his core, not because he needs to be super efficient and get a ton done, but because he just wakes up early and can't take the time to fall back asleep, especially when you're right next to him. Why try and sleep when he could pick on you?

If you're a morning person like him, you probably wake up around the same time, and get ready for the day together. Washing up, getting dressed, eating. If you're into working out, you two go on little work out morning dates.

If you're a night owl, he will pester the hell out of you until you do, kissing your neck and mumbling in your ear and flipping you around in all different directions. If your willpower is strong, and you don't get out of bed, he will first snap a ton of photos of you before getting up himself and getting his day started.

It depends on what time you wake up, but you could find that the apartment is empty from him going to work out, or full with the sound of him simply living. You usually find breakfast made for you, all 5 food groups, sometimes you eat together sometimes you don't get the chance to.

"Had to go to work early, you're hot love, Your Perfect Boyfriend"

That note was placed neatly over a little metal box, the contents being a warm waffle with chocolate sauce and berries. The sauce still had it's structure despite sitting in a metal container with a hot waffle, meaning he just left.

Damn it...he is perfect.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Every night with Satoru is different, It all depends on how both of your days went. If work was especially hard for either of you, the night would consist of at home activities, like playing videogames or watching a movie.

If you both had a bit of an easier day, especially over the weekend, you went on dates, and that could be anything. It ranged from going to a park and walking around, from going to a Michelin star restaurant and eating something deconstructed.

Of course, no matter what it was, dessert was happening at a place that was made for dessert. Patisseries, Ice creameries, cookie shops, whatever it was, it was always a part of the date.

"You're so gorgeous," Satoru sighed dreamily, resting his chin on his hand.

"Well you're gorgeous too," You laughed, looking up at him. "Although, I do think I can do better than sweats," you said, looking down at yourself.

You both were sitting on the couch, waiting for Mario Kart to boot up as you ate some gelato Satoru stocked up on during his trip to Italy.

"Nahhhh. 'S perfect."

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

You still don't know everything about him. After so many years, friends to best friends to lovers, he still hasn't told you everything. You can probably think of one time he's been open with you, after going out and getting drinks with the usually sober Satoru. You remember having to cut yourself off early in order to care for him, calling the night and taking him home.

He ended up sat on the floor, back to the wall as he was wheezing at how the word "company" sounded like it started with a different word, his head on your shoulder.

After he calmed down, he said, "Y'know, I don't deserve you," he laughed, smiling at you with a red face.

"What're you talking about," you said with a nervous chuckle. "You do..."

"No, nonononono, 's ok, I don't," He said hurriedly, putting his hand on your shoulder. "I mean, you're actually too good for me," he slurred, looking into your eyes.

"What do you mean? what makes you so 'unworthy'?"

"Mmnnnnnn...have you killed someone?" He got all serious, nose to nose with you, before whispering, "I did...It wasn't fun, but I hadta..."

He sounded sheepish, like he was scared. Gojo Satoru was scared.

You weren't as upset as you could have been, being a sorcerer meant you understood having to take...drastic measures. After light encouragement, you managed to get most of the story out...er, stories, plural. He has a checkered past, and while you're pretty sure he doesn't remember that conversation, you want him to feel like you can listen, and any time he wants to open up again, you'll be more than ready to.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He has optional patience. He's not going to wait in a line without some sort of entertainment for longer than 5 minutes, but he also is willing to work tirelessly for years and years to reach a goal. He just can't stand doing nothing, he needs to be doing something always.

Now, if it came to anger, he has the patience of a saint. When you get to the level of power he has, getting angry over something below the injury of loved one just felt stupid to him. Now, if you get into a fight, he does get worked up (obviously), but he doesn't get mad so much as frustrated. "Ah, shit," he sighed, sounding nothing more than peeved. You glanced over, eyes widening as you saw his piping hot coffee not in his mug, but in his lap.

"D...Doesn't that...hurt?"

"Me? Nah," He says, standing to go change.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He's weird because he pretends like he knows nothing, but it seems like he truly knows everything. If you challenged him to some game where you quiz him on the things he knows about you, he's walking away with first place. He just likes listening to you talk about your interests. You told him about your favorite show 3 years ago and he remembers the entire plot, but...

"Hey, have you heard about [enter show here]?" He was sitting on the couch, remote in hand.

"Oh, yeah! God, I used to love that show," you said excitedly, walking over and sitting next to him.

"Yeah? What's it about?" He's so in love with you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment is when he realized he's in love in you. He remembers the day clearly, you two were messing around with some weak curses, or at least weak to you, and he noticed then that you could keep up with him.

YOU could keep up with HIM.

It's not like he thought you were weak or anything, he just couldn't believe that there was another on his level. It's lonely at the top, and he came to terms with that, but the idea that he could have someone joining him was kind of mind blowing.

Maybe this wasn't when he realized he loved you, but it was when he realized he was allowed to.

"What," you ask him, laughing a little as you land a deadly blow on a curse before he could. He was just staring at you, a mixture of curiosity and adoration on his face.

He just turned and smiled, laughing a little to himself. "Nothin'..."

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He knows you don't need him to protect you, and for the most part he rather enjoys that, but he will get defensive over you when it comes to the slander of your name. Physically, you can handle yourself, and he knows that if someone were to be rude to you directly, you could handle yourself, but when someone is talking about you when you're not around, you can't defend yourself. That's where he comes in, your very own security guard.

He's not normally an aggressive person, you don't really like that side of him, and so if you're not there to see it, it's like it never happened.

"(Y/N)? Ugh, I hate that class...yeah, exactly! Right, sooo annoying... I just can't stand- Exactly...! And always getting of track..."

A girl on the phone, a brand new student at the Kyoto Sister school where you worked. Satoru was visiting to eat lunch with you. Lucky him, to over hear something like this.

He catches up to her, only needing to take a couple long steps.

"Oh! Are you a student of (Y/N)," he asks cheerfully. She was immediately weak in the knees, it was inevitable given his looks and status.

"Uhhhhh, yeah! Sir!" Meanwhile, her friend on the other line kept saying, "Is that Gojo Satoru? Are you talking to Gojo Satoru?!"

"I know (Y/N), actually," He said, looking down at the girl with a smile, the angry glare in his eyes hidden behind his mask.

"Really," she asks absently, before looking between him and the phone in realization. "W- uh, I was just-"

"What's your name?" The two of them stopped walking, Satoru's cheerful tone taking an underpainting of malice.

"uhm...A-Ayako..."

"Ayako..." He repeats, committing the name to memory.

"You don't go here anymore, Okay Ayako?"

Her jaw drops, eyes wide and blinking as she takes in his words.

"You...You can't- I didn't- That's not fair and-"

"Yeahhhh, it sucks, huh? you just weren't Jujutsu High material, sorry," he says apathetically, perhaps even joyfully, walking off to eat lunch with the love of his life.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He doesn't try because doing things for you is effortless for him. I went into dates a lot in M and N, so I won't be touching on that so much here.

Anniversaries are always filled with gifts and outings, so much so that you feel inadequate trying to provide for him in that area. You could get him tons of seemingly perfect gifts, and yet somehow he still outdid you. He didn't mean to (mostly), he just really loved you and loved showing that.

To top it off, his reactions to your gifts aren't really all that grandiose. He tries, but you can tell it's feigned.

"Open it," you say excitedly, smiling wide as you hand him a black box. You were both sitting on the couch, it was his nary celebrated birthday, at least before you.

He sets the box on the coffee table before him and does so, inside a bottle of high end cologne.

"Wow," he says coolly, opening it and giving it a whiff. "Smells good," he muses sweetly, giving you a smile.

You groan, hanging your head with a wry laugh. "If you don't like it we can get it replaced," you sigh, smiling with some dissapointment.

"I do like it," he exclaims, moving to your side to comfort you with concern. "See, I'm gonna wear it, watch," he says, spritzing it on.

You laugh, he was so adorable.

Truly, he loves your gifts and puts them to use, but what really excites him is simply being with you. He likes taking the time to just be normal with you, or as close to normal as you guys can get.

He likes buying you stuff daily, small things like candy or some new lipstick, he just sees it and thinks of you. As I said before, he doesn't really try all that hard, he almost never has, and that's what's so great for him.

He used to worry about if he'd be able to even show his love for someone if he ever found himself in the situation, and to see that he's getting the message across with little strain is exciting to him.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

What. A. Flake. You can never tell if he's going to turn up to important events, and if he does he's always late. The thing is, when he really cares he shows up punctually, which means he has the capability to be reliable. There have definitely been more meetings than you can count where you've had to cover for him, as well as fights he's been late for because he wants to make a grand entrance.

"where have you been," you chide in a hushed tone, watching as he casually plops down next to you. "I had to tell them you were having an emergency," you scoff, pinching his arm.

"You did?" He looks at the annoyed expressions of his bosses and coworkers, cocking his head slightly with a sly grin. "Yeah, no, I wasn't, just didn't feel like coming," he admits carelessly, shrugging. Idiot.

Relationship wise, he's had some issues with respect. He sometimes treats you and your issues like they're unimportant, and maybe they are, but dammit they're important to you! He got better about this eventually, but not after tons of hardheaded arguments about this ugly trait.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

if I had to pick one word to describe Satoru...well, it'd be cocky, but if I had to pick another it'd be effortless. He doesn't take concern with his looks because he needs to do nothing to look so good. That's just how he is, and he knows it. He places some amount of value in his appearance, but overall he's not too vain. He has confidence, is all.

"Man, You sure are lucky to have such a hot boyfriend," Satoru sighs sarcastically, teasing his hair in the mirror while you put on your shoes.

"Yeah? You sayin' I couldn't get one normally," you ask tauntingly, raising your brows.

"Hey..." he says, knowing he had fallen into a trap.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He wants so dearly to not need you, but he knows he does. He knows he just might break if he loses you. You're his other half, you make him whole. A break up, he could handle, because there was still the hope of having you back, but if you died...

I can't write an example of this, I can't do it justice. The pain, the absolute and ineffable pain of losing yet another of the few people he got close to would eat him away until there's nothing left, and you just can't put that, in all of its horrific beauty, in simple words.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

a little something xtra for you...He loves his mask and sunglasses for the extra benefit of not being exposed for staring at you. His eyes are constantly on you, figuratively or literally, and if he were anyone else he wouldn't be able to take down his enemies with you there because of how distracted he would be. He was him, though, and he could very much multitask. He also has a habit of flirting or messing with you during meetings, taking down curses, training, really at any time.

Satoru, on the other side of the meeting table, was stretched out, arms behind his head. His foot was touching yours, it was kind of cute in a way.

Then, he nudged your ankle a little, and you looked over at him with curiosity. He didn't look at you, keeping his eyes on who was speaking. You nudged him back, and he smiled, which means he did that on purpose.

He nudges you, you nudge him.

Then the nudging becomes playful kicking.

Then the playful kicking becomes competitive kicking.

Then the competitive kicking becomes getting scolded by both of the headmasters.

His grin never leaves his face.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

First of all, greek yoghurt pisses him off. Yoghurt should be sweet and frozen, and nothing else. Give him greek yoghurt, god forbid he takes a bite because the unpleasant surprise will lead to half an hour of talking about how horrible it is. Yuck.

More seriously, he doesn't like people who think they're better than they are. He deals with them frequently, in the form of stupid curses trying to take him on, and he takes pleasure in putting them in their place.

He's of the mind that He earned being cocky, because he's actually just that powerful and good at everything, and therefore anyone else that's cocky has to earn it too.

when it comes to humans he can't eradicate, he simply shows off his power with as much leisure as possible, just to prove he's a million times better than the offending.

"Guess what," Satoru says on the phone, his smile audible.

'What," you ask cheerfully, knowing a good story was coming, or at least one he thinks is good.

"So I was fighting this curse, right?"

"Right..."

"Well, it was already annoying because it was stupidly weak, but it still came after me, and this thing..."

He kept talking, going on and on about how weak and annoying the thing was, and you simply smiled as you listened. Adorable.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He's a complete bed hog, he takes up all the space you give him. He starfishes out, snoring like a vacuum cleaner, and when he's not doing that he's tossing and turning.

The only remedy for this was, surprisingly, getting closer. If you sleep next to him, he can't sprawl out. If you sleep holding onto his arm, his limbs on that side of his body are still for the rest of the night. If you lay with your head on his chest, making sure you fall asleep with his arms around you...all of him stays still and in one spot. A couple other poses work for this too, spooning of any kind, a honeymoon hug, things where you're practically fused together. Summer is a hard time for you two.

Another thing he does is mumble in his sleep. It's nothing too crazy, most of the time unintelligible, but every once in a while you can hear some keywords. You've found that whatever's most prominent in his life at the time is what he talks about. You don't really get any insight to how his mind works or anything, it's just a cute habit of his.

"Mmmn...Zzz...donrelgtothedohmvie...."

You smile, letting out a little puff of laughter from your nose as you strain to hear him.

"Yogottabkddngmbaby...."

Baby! That was a word.

You tried listening in for more, but you really heard nothing else...nothing else, of course, besides your name.

Ok, this took my like a month, which is wayyy longer than my usual stuff.

and, if we're being honest... ᴵ ᴴᶦᵗ ¹⁰⁰ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉʳˢ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ² ʷᵉᵉᵏˢ ᵃᵍᵒ

but I'm only a few over so it still counts!? Love you, get ready for the next thing, and Let me know how this was and if you agree or disagree with my headcannons!

#fanfic #fan fiction #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk satoru #satorugojo #jujutsu satoru #gojo

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grandline-fics · 3 months

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Terms of Endearment

DESCRIPTION: You call them by a term of endearment without realising

WARNINGS: none that come to mind.

CHARACTERS: Law, Kid, Shanks, Marco, Zoro | Ace, Sabo, Luffy

WORDS: 2,943

A/N: I decided to use Zoro as the final character. Since he and Ace tied in the poll, I might make a second one of these and use Ace and any others people may want.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

LAW

He knew it was irrational to be jealous of an inanimate object. Law knew that it’d be childish to use his Devil Fruit to take it out of your hands and claim your attention for himself. While he had enough restraint to not do that, the temptation to do so was still there. His eyes zeroed in on the book in your hand. He glowered and wondered if it was really that good, did it really deserve such intense, rapt attention that you were giving it. Your eyes were alight as you took in the words, your fingers already tucked behind the next page and ready to turn it as quickly as possible. Law watched you carefully, almost praying for your expression to turn to one of sudden boredom but it didn’t come.

He supposed he was to blame this time, a lot of this was new to him. While your relationship had only turned to a romantic one recently, you’d both been close for a lot longer. Long enough for you both to be able to spend time together while doing entirely separate things. You only pulled your book out because he had medical charts to look over and update. Law made a mental note to try a bit harder from now on to make the time you had together one of quality.

Finally he sat back in his seat and rubbed his eyes, letting them relax from pouring over the extensive pages now neatly piled on his desk. Slowly he stood and walked to the sofa you were perched on, unmoving and seemingly unaware he was approaching. Law tried to bite back his jealousy once more, wondering how annoyed you’d be if he ‘accidentally’ sent that blasted book out into the depths of the ocean.

When he sat down in the space beside you, he smiled softly when you leant back so you were against his side. One of your hands dropped to rest on his arm that was around your waist, your fingers lightly making soothing patterns against his tattooed skin. Law supposed this did count as quality time since it meant he could relax with you in a way he couldn’t with anyone else. He allowed himself the time to settle further against the cushion and press his lips against the back of your head. “Don’t forget you and Bepo are on duty tonight.” He reminded you, still having to act as your Captain when necessary.

“Yes, love.” Your answer was light and casual that he didn’t realise what you’d said at first. Then it echoed in his head ‘love.’ His eyes widened and he peered at the back of your head. There was no way he misheard that. You’d called him love, not Law, not Captain. Love. There was no mistaking the way his heart skipped a beat in reaction. It sounded so right, so effortless the way you said it and he found himself wanting to hear it again. It was also clear that from your lack of reaction, you hadn’t realised what you’d called him because you were partially distracted. Law smirked and for a moment reconsidered his earlier distaste. Perhaps your book wasn’t so bad after all.

KID

Kid didn’t want to admit it but he was powerless against you. He was stubborn and hotheaded and did what he wanted even if someone had sound logic to convince him whatever he had planned wasn’t wise. If anything if someone did attempt that nonsense with him, he’d be even more extreme with his conviction to do as he wanted and would even think of a way to make his actions even more outlandish and dangerous. Even Killer had a hard time keeping the captain in a somewhat mature state of mind. You however were a different story. Anything you wanted, it was yours all you had to do was ask.

Kid just never knew how to let you know that was the dynamic between you both. He was never afraid to speak his mind, if anything he yelled it to ensure everyone knew his thoughts. Yet he seemed to bite his tongue from confessing how he truly felt with you. He’d much rather have you beside him every day and enjoy the playful teasing and jokes than make things real and risk you not seeing him that way. Killer had told him one night to just confess already and trust that you felt the same. Kid had rolled his eyes and promptly kept his feelings buried in his chest. It was better, they were safer there than spoken out loud and unable to take them back.

He walked into the kitchen one evening to see you and Killer preparing the crew’s dinner. You looked over at the sound of his naturally heavy steps coming closer and smiled in greeting to see him stop in the doorway. “Here to help, Captain?” You asked, already knowing the answer before it came. Your smile grew when Kid let out a loud laugh and made a show of folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the doorframe.

“Not unless you want me to poison the crew.” He smirked.

“You’d nurse us back to health if you did infect us though, right?” You joked before looking back to the food you were meant to keep an eye on instead of getting distracted by your handsome Captain. You had to keep reminding yourself to behave and actually respect the chain of command. To let yourself imagine he may genuinely feel the same as you did would only lead to heartbreak in the long run but still you flirted and teased him whenever you could. You supposed you were just a glutton for punishment. You slowed in stirring the food and looked around for the seasonings only to see the small jar on the counter near Kid.

“Could you pass me that?” You asked nodding your head at what you needed. Kid followed your gaze and immediately pushed himself away from his comfortable position to lift the tiny item. He stepped forward and passed the seasoning into your waiting hand, hating and loving how the brief moment of his fingers skimming against yours brought him such a burst of joy. “Thank you, darling.” You smiled, turning back to the stove. While you hadn’t noticed what you’d said Killer did and he stopped cutting the vegetables to look Kid who was frozen in place, his eyes wide and cheeks turning the same bright red as his hair.

Darling? The fuck did you mean darling?! Kid’s mind was short-circuiting as he scrambled to gather his wits together and make sense of it all. Had you called him that subconsciously because was it possible that you felt for him too? God he hoped so because getting to hear you call him something so sweet again would be perfect.

SHANKS

One of the great things about sailing with an Emperor of the sea like Shanks was the fact that there were many islands under his protection. Any time you landed at one for a visit or even for the excuse of resting from a long stretch of sailing, the locals welcomed you all so warmly that it turned into one big celebration. None of you needed to worry about night watches, chores or other duties and could just sit back and enjoy the peace until Shanks decided he wanted to get back on the waters again.

As a crew, you were all used to just passing out and sleeping wherever you were at that time and waking up with aches from the uncomfortable positions you’d all ended up. However the town you were staying in was large enough to provide some rooms for you all in one of their inns. Some of you still needed to double up but the beds were extremely comfortable and who were you all to refuse such generosity? One night when the drinking and partying was only just beginning you slowly rose from your seat with a stifled yawn and forced yourself to finish your drink. Shanks was first to notice your movements. “Going for another round of drinks already?” he asked, coming across casual but he knew you weren’t yourself.

“Nah, I’m turning in early.” You announced, playfully flipping off the crew when they started to boo you for being boring. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Blame Beck, alright. I haven’t slept the last two nights. Goodnight.” You gave no further explanation and disappeared up the staircase to claim a room to sleep in. Shanks looked towards his righthand man with a small scowl. He hoped you hadn’t implied what he thought. Beckman could sense his Captain’s silent interrogation and waved away his worries. “Calm down Cap, you know I’d never make a move on them. It’s just been bad luck we’ve had a share a room together and I snore…apparently.” He explained with a shrug and long drink of his ale.

Shanks had accepted the answer, knowing Beck would never lie to him. Yet as innocent as it all was, he couldn’t ignore the way he’d felt sick at the thought of you being with another of the crew. While nothing had exactly happened between you both, it was painfully obvious that there was something there. A playful dance you both engaged in without making an actual step forward into committing and admitting you’d had feelings. Roughly Shanks rubbed his eyes, now wasn’t the time to be thinking on such things, not with alcohol in his system and you not being there to talk to like the adults you were.

The rest of the night had helped to take his mind off things but it was all undone by the time he entered the room he’d been staying in the entire stay and saw you sleeping soundly in his bed. He was the only one in the crew that didn’t have to share his room with anyone else so why were you here? He approached the bed and shook your arm, watching your eyes crack open and he immediately felt guilty. You really did look exhausted. “Why’re you in my bed?” He asked, trying not to laugh as your eyes slipped closed again.

“Furthest room…no snoring. Please honey, lemme sleep.” Your voice was thick with sleep and your breathing was growing deeper again. Shanks might have appeared calm but that was the first time you’d ever called him something like that and as far as he knew you’d never called anyone else on the crew something similar. That all but cemented his decision that things needed to be talked about when you were both awake and rested enough to deal with things. Finally he let out a sigh and climbed into what would be his side of the bed while keeping respectable space between you both. “Fine, only because it’s you.”

MARCO

Your relationship with the ship’s doctor was a fairly new one. You had both known each other long enough to know the general likes and dislikes and the atmosphere on the Moby Dick among the crew was always one of familial harmony so there was never any uncomfortable tension. You were both content to just take things easy and enjoy things as they developed naturally without needed to force things into a certain timeframe. Marco’s personality being so relaxed and carefree was infectious in general and it was no different in your relationship.

Marco stood from his desk and stretched, ready to find you and enjoy the rest of the day with you now that all pressing tasks he’d needed to complete for the day was done. He was just about to leave when Izou entered to talk about organising a banquet for Ace’s birthday. As the two were discussing everything you appeared and smiled at them both before entering the room.

“Babe, did you see my-” Anything else that came out of your mouth was unfortunately drowned out by the increased heart rate in Marco’s ears. Instead he could only watch as you were busy looking for whatever it was that you’d lost. Marco would have considered himself steady and able to handle most situations but hearing you call him babe for the first time had certainly thrown him and you seemed oblivious to the fact that you’d done so. The only person who truly reacted was Izou, his laugh snapping Marco out of his trance and catching your attention too. “Babe, huh? Didn’t realise things were so serious with you two. Maybe we could plan the wedding too.” Izou teased.

“What are you talking about now?” You asked with a small smile. You were used to Izou’s teasing like a brother figure would but sometimes he just didn’t make sense. When Izou saw that you weren’t aware of your subconscious slip-up he grinned wider.

“You called Marco, babe.” He explained. You rolled your eyes and let out an amused laugh. As far as jokes went, it wasn’t the worst one he’d told you but he could do better. Suddenly you became concerned when Izou’s smug grin wasn’t slipping and you had to think. What had you said to Marco when you entered the room? Slowly you pulled your gaze to your boyfriend and he nodded. “Well looks like you two lovebirds need some alone time.” Izou all but sang as he left, no doubt hurrying off to tell Ace and the others about Marco’s new nickname.

“So…” You cleared your throat nervously and gave a small laugh. “Want to forget that happened? I swear I didn’t realise I’d even called you that.” The last thing you wanted was to make Marco think you were forcing him to a point he wasn’t ready for. Thankfully his broad smile was enough to make you relax, his naturally warm aura soothing your brief worries before they had a chance to escalate. Marco stepped closer to you, settling a hand on your waist. “Well even if you stop now, I bet all the others will start. Honestly I’d much rather hear it from your lips. Can I hear you say it again?”

ZORO

Zoro kept a firm hold on your shoulder as you stumbled, trying to twist weakly out of his grip. Any other instance he would release you if his touch made you uncomfortable but this was a completely different situation. After defeating a group of lackeys, one managed to make one last attack before falling unconscious. You’d been quick enough to intercept whatever it was he threw towards you and Zoro but when it was destroyed it still released a cloud of strange smelling gas. Zoro had been a safe enough distance but you weren’t so lucky.

At first you’d insisted you were fine but after walking a few paces your balance started to sway and your mind was beginning to cloud. Zoro became concerned by the glazed look in your eyes as you tried one more time to pull out of his unwavering hold, glaring at him. “Jus’ let me go! I don’t know you.”

His eyes widened at your declaration, not only because you sounded so dazed and confused. It was not like your usual bright and familiar way of speaking that made him happy to hear but it was also because hearing you say you didn’t know him filled him with more concern than he was willing to admit. He needed to find Chopper quickly to treat whatever it was you’d been hit with. For now he had to try and keep you calm and prove you were safe with him. “Course you know me. We’re crew-mates, remember? It’s Zoro.”

Abruptly you stopped and bumped into his chest, lifting your head to stare at him, trying to force yourself to focus on his face. Your hand reached out and clumsily gripped his face, tugging him forward enough for you to see his features better. Zoro could see your pupils were blown wide, whatever had been in that vial was some sort of hallucinogenic and he hoped that that was all it was. It could be better dealt with than a poison. Not that seeing you so wary and untrusting of him was any better. Your suspicion didn’t subside when you finally let go of his face and shook your head.

“You’re not Zoro.” You finally declared, trying once more to get away from him. This time you succeeded only enough to make it a couple of steps but without him there to keep you stable you fell forward. If Zoro hadn’t been there you would have landed face first into the pavement but he caught you swiftly around the waist and lifted you to settle you over his shoulder, deciding that this way of carrying you was the best option. “Definitely not Zoro.” You weakly grumbled into his back as he began walking again.

“Oh yeah, why’re you so sure of that?” He asked, deciding to at least play along.

“You’re too grumpy…” You explained and added as you fell unconscious. “Zoro’s grumpy but he’s a sweetheart. My sweetheart.” Immediately the back of his neck heated and he froze in place but he couldn’t say or do anything else because thankfully Chopper, Usopp and Nami appeared to regroup and find Luffy. Zoro quickly explained to Chopper that you’d been hit by something but offered no further details.

“Did you get hit too, Zoro? You’re looking really red.” Chopper asked in concern. Quickly Zoro cleared his throat and shrugged as he laid you on the ground so Chopper could treat you.

“Uh yeah, might have been. Don’t worry about it though.”

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1-800-cr33py · 4 months

Note

I know it didn’t win the poll but I humbly ask you to write that RZ! Micheal Myers size kink fanfiction whenever you have the time and if you are feeling up to it🙏

{this is so late and I sincerely apologize TvT}

Sedatives

Tags: Dub-Con, Size Kink, Rough Sex, Choking, Manhandling, Reader is mentions to be a nurse some time ago, blood, knives, overstimulation, Michael is a warning himself. a/: this will most likely be one out of 2 parts anon im so sorry TvT

Sweet thing you were, you’d give the shirt off your own back if someone in need called for it, so giving and so trusting to even the most hardened criminals. It was a wonder how someone like you graced the halls of Smith’s Grove Sanitarium. You, a star-eyed nurse fresh from medical school. The scum and slime that riddled the halls of the hellish “sanctuary” you’d been accepted into. You skip down the halls with your checklist and medicine cart in tow. You were kind. You were happy. You’d given patients who’d hadn’t seen the sun in years the same kindness as one would give to an old friend. But you favored one more than the others.

Michael fucking Myers.

Silent halls.

Odd shadows.

Creaking wheels.

The usual ambiance of Smith’s Grove had finally settled within your nerves after a long long few months. You, with your now worn in uniform, counted the rooms with an intent gaze. On the left, even numbers, and parallel to them were odds. Though it was a weird concept, there was a reason. Those on the left, the doctors deemed ‘safe’ and had the possibility of rehabilitation.

Inmates that resided on the right wing however, well you didn’t quite know if you’re being honest, you weren’t allowed to even breath the wing’s direction yet. But one digresses. Your low heels made a blunt click click click upon the cold floors as you neared your station, medicine cart in tow. Your manicured hand reached for your ID, ringing yourself in as the loud pang alerted you of the unlocked status of the door, which was shoved open by your hip as you passed a polite nod to security. Your trek was cut short however, your overseer tugging you aside with a rather harsh hand.

“ You’re the medicine girl right?”

medicine girl…right. Giving a curt nod he sighed, his breath reeking of cheap coffee and some kind of alcohol. His orders were short, clipped and rather rude. Though the next words he uttered left your mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

“ You’re doing both wards. Kirsten…had an incident. “

Fucking hell.

So now, here you were, approaching your last patient for the night. With security stalking behind you with scowls as they glared at patients through the tiny windows. You gulps, it was never patients that scared you, no. It was the sleazes that worked outside the cells. Their wolffish stares and ugly grins. You shook your head, you were approaching Michael’s cell.

You didn’t know much about him, only whispers of the monster, the brute that killed most of his family. A grade A killer, someone that should be locked away from society if not for Mr. Loomis’s need to study him like some kind of bug. But, you being you, wouldn’t let that stop you from being kind. That’s what irked you most about people here, these patients were still human at the end of the day. They still bled, they still died, they had interests and dislikes and personalities. You sighed, eying the dainty wrist watch. ‘ Just an hour and a half..’ you thought as some scum of a man unlocked the heavy metal door. Eying you as you motioned him to move aside.

“ Careful, he hasn’t seen such a young thing like you in a while…might finally remember he’s got a cock. “ the guard, who’s tag read Pierson, chuckled, elbowing his colleague. You could feel their gaze raking across your body, internally you gagged. Lurching forward was a far easier than you wanted to admit, medicines and needles clattering at the motion as the door slammed behind you, leaving you to jump.

Michael’s room was…interesting looking at it.

Buzzing overhead lights gave some relief as you tended to your cart, organizing the arrangement of pills and sedatives in their respective cup to serve to the inmate, who’s back was turned to you, fiddling with another mask that would surely find its way with the rest that perched upon the greening walls. Finally, you found the correct assortment. Smiling to yourself, you turned to face the mountain of a man.

“ Alright Mr.Myers, here’s your dailies! Dr. Loomis upped your sedatives so if you feel a bit off thats the cause! “ you chirped, leaving the cup a bit of a distance. Like you’d heard from the other nurses, Michael gave no indication of acknowledgment, hands stained with the glue-water mixture. The masks on the wall drew your attention, though you didn’t dare raise a hand to touch the precious things, knowing how it felt to have your art defiled by ignorant hands. “ You have a lovely night Mr. Myers! The mask are gorgeous as well! Truly a work of art. “ you smiled, warmth radiating from your aura.

Oh sweet thing. What have you done?

#1800cr33py #reqs open #slashers smut #slasher fanfiction #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slasher fandom #rz myers x reader #rz!michael myers #michael myers smut #michael my beloved #michael myers x reader #send reqs #anon request

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vienssunshine · 8 months

Text

Come Over for a Swim, Darling

pairing: Nanami Kento x fem reader nsfw word count: 4.9k author's note: This was the winner from the poll! It was supposed to be bite-sized but the story got away from me. Parts are inspired by our queen lana del rey. description: You take your neighbor up on the offer of his pool on a hot summer day.

He’s such a gentleman, isn’t he?

It’s been an unforgivably hot July this year, so it was perfect when the man next door offered his pool for whenever you needed to escape the relentless heat.

“Anytime you need, even if I’m not home, you’re welcome to come over for a swim,” your neighbor Nanami had told you at the annual block party.

So as you’re packing a pool bag, fighting through the hot, humid air your busted AC does little to improve, the only emotion you feel is immense gratitude.

You cross the street to his house, noting that his car is still parked in the driveway. Maybe you should knock on the door? Let him know you’re here?

No, that would probably bother him. He could be busy with things around the house and, since he’s doing you such a huge favor, you want to be as little of a nuisance as possible.

You have his number—he gave it to you at the block party in case there’s ‘anything you might need’—so you pull out your phone and type out a text to him:

“Hey! Thanks again for letting me use your pool, I just wanted to let you know I’ll be there this afternoon.”

After sending the message, you let yourself into his backyard through the gate in the white fencing.

Your neighbor never talked much about his work, but it’s clear that it pays well. The backyard is spacious and well taken care of with mowed, bright green grass covering the area, only broken up by the cement surrounding the large tropical blue pool just behind his house. Lawn chairs line the near side of the pool and there’s a garden with a large tree that droops over the water on the far side.

You place your bag down on one of the lawn chairs and stretch out, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your skin, though you’re quick to favor the coolness of the pool when you crouch down and swipe your fingers through the water.

Your phone buzzes. It’s a text from your neighbor:

“Of course. Let me know if I can get you anything.”

You smile, he’s so kind to you. A girl could get the wrong idea. It doesn’t help that he’s tall, built, and handsome. Somehow, he’s unclaimed; you’ve only ever seen one car in his driveway.

After pulling off your cover-up to reveal your white bikini, you wade into the pool. The cool water welcomes you, and you lower yourself down to sit on the steps, submerging your poor, overheated body up to your shoulders. It’s refreshing to a cellular level and exactly what you need after a long, scorching summer. You lean back, arms behind you on the stairs and sunglasses resting on the bridge of your nose.

Your gaze floats around your surroundings, noting that you wouldn’t mind living like this, able to enjoy the luxurious backyard whenever you please, until you catch a small movement in the corner of your eye. You follow it to see your neighbor peering down at you through his upstairs window.

He must be checking up on you, how sweet of him. You push your sunglasses down, eyes locked on his, and bring your hand up to give him a little wave.

Nanami returns the gesture and softly smiles. You expect him to close the curtain and return to whatever he was doing, but he doesn’t, seemingly having a hard time pulling his eyes from the sight of you enjoying his pool.

How interesting.

You sit up, water dripping off your chest and leaving behind little droplets that make your skin glitter in the sunshine. His eyes flick down to your bikini top, only for one, shameful second, but you still notice. It sends a rush through your veins; you like his attention, and he doesn’t appear interested in taking it away. This could be fun.

His stern eyes follow your hand as you run it up from your stomach, to your collarbone, and finally to one of the white, thin straps of your top. You enjoy how Nanami, whom you’ve deemed a stoic man, appears impacted by your roaming touch, eyes slightly widening as your delicate fingers push the strap off your shoulder.

You move further into the pool, turning around in the water so your back faces the window, and watch Nanami��s face, determined to soak up any micro-expression the man was willing to concede as you drop the other strap from your shoulder.

His big hand comes up to the collar of his button-up, pulling the patterned tie around his neck loose. The man’s waning restraint makes you giggle, simply delighted by how your teases are affecting him.

You submerge further into the pool so the water is level with your collarbone, and the man’s gaze is unwavering as your hands come around your back to unclasp your bikini top. You turn and toss it onto the cement surrounding the pool, but when you look back to the window to see the spectator’s reaction, you find it empty.

The back door slides open. Nanami’s tall body consumes the doorway as he stands in the threshold, tempted but still hesitant, like he’s wavering between worlds and just a step away from fully giving in to you.

He greets you calmly as if the situation he’s in—having his topless neighbor in his pool—isn’t notable or unwelcome in any way. “Hello.”

You smile at him, coquettish and daring, “Hi.”

“How are you enjoying the pool?” He leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest with a smirk on his face you can only find if you look for.

“I like it a lot,” you respond, moving to the pool’s edge and leaning on it, the water the only thing keeping you modest. “I’d like it a lot more if you joined me.”

“I think I’d feel the same.”

“Okay, go put on your suit,” you giggle. He’s still wearing his work clothes, long pants and a button-up—attire that’s unacceptable for such a hot day.

“That will take too long,” he says, “I’m fine in this.”

He walks to the pool's edge and stops, looking down at you. Though you don't know it, with his line of work, it’s always best to approach unfamiliar situations with a level of caution, and something like this has never happened to him.

Only when you call to him, voice silken and sweet like a siren’s, his sorcerer mindset of constant suspicion is forgotten. “Come into the water, Kento,” you say, and it ensures there’s no way Nanami can refuse your request. Compelled, he removes his leather shoes and joins you in the pool, sitting down on the submerged steps and paying no mind to how the water soaks his expensive work clothes.

You glide over to him and settle down on a step below his so you can keep the veil of water over your chest. He brings a big hand to your cheek, drinking in every feature of your face as his thumb strokes your warm skin.

“So nice to me,” you hum, leaning into his rough palm, “letting me use your pool.” You rest your arm on his clothed thigh and smirk. “Did you expect this to happen?”

“I didn’t,” he confesses, “But I’m glad you took up my offer.”

“Me too,” you say, dipping your chin down and looking up at him with your pretty eyes, “Can I show you how grateful I am?”

He's breathless when he responds, "You may, dear."

Then you're climbing up his built body, water falling off of you, so you can lean forward and press your lips to his. When he processes what’s happening—that the neighbor he hasn’t been able to shake from his mind is kissing him—he melts into it, a big arm wrapping around your waist and the other coming up your bare back, his hand cradling your head and pushing you into him.

You smile against his mouth, elated by the win of seducing your hot next-door neighbor, and he notices, of course, but just feeling your soft body against him is enough to decide to be as sweet as you are being to him.

The hand on the back of your head gently tugs at your hair, pulling a gentle sigh from your lips which he uses as an opening to deepen the kiss. Though he’s pushing you into him, with his tongue rolling over yours, you can tell he’s tempering himself. There’s flashes of impatience and desperation, with the way he nips your lips or roughly squeezes the softness of your sides, but they’re actions he quickly suppresses. It makes you wonder if he’s holding back for a reason, if he wouldn’t be able to stop if he were to fully indulge in you.

“Pretty girl,” he whispers into your mouth in a momentary pause, and the low notes of his gruff voice send the thoughts out of your head and heat rushing to your cheeks.

Then he pulls you from his side into his lap, your wet body—and bare chest—now pressed against his as you straddle his soaked pants. His shoulders are underneath your palms, and you tighten your fingers around them, squeezing the thick, sturdy muscle the wet fabric sticks to; he feels stronger than he looks.

“I appreciate”—he kisses your jaw—“how you express”—then your ear—“your gratitude.” His last kiss is placed on your neck, and you gasp—you’re so sensitive there—and cant your hips into nothing.

“So needy,” he remarks with a low chuckle, hands traveling down to your sides, conducting electricity through your nerves as they move, “At first, I thought you just needed my pool, but now I think you need more.”

“Need you,” you tell him, almost whining, pulling at the tie loose around his neck, “Now.”

“You need to be taken care of,” he agrees, thumbs rubbing slow circles on your hips. He places a soft kiss on your cheek. “Let me make you dinner, sweet thing. Why don’t you come inside?”

His suggestion, one you’d normally appreciate, seems unreasonable with the painful ache pulsing through you. You lean forward, pressing a wet kiss on his neck that pulls a groan from him. “Kento, that sounds nice, but I want you, not dinner.”

His hands land on your shoulders, rendering you still. “I know, darling, but I can’t take care of you how I want in the pool. Please, let me dry you off and feed you first.”

You huff, which he finds amusing, but give in to his request, allowing him to help you out of the pool, wrap a warm, fuzzy towel around you, and lead you inside.

Your body is frustrated with you, wanting release so badly, but he’s right, a pool isn’t the most pleasant setting for sex, and you should eat something as you haven’t eaten since this morning, too distracted with trying to fix your AC.

Nanami steps away for a moment and it gives you some time to check out his living room. The interior of his house is as impressive as the exterior: spacious, clean, and decorated in a way that invites you in. Interestingly, there aren’t any picture frames around the house, rather, the shelves are filled with books, all academic-looking and on niche topics regarding the supernatural.

Nanami returns dressed in dry slacks and a short-sleeve button-up. He has a change of clothes for you, a big t-shirt and sweatpants, presumably his own.

It’s still hot–and you feel like testing him–so you tell Nanami that: “Just the shirt is fine.” You put it on, though it’s more of a dress with the way it covers the first few inches of your thighs, and then pull your bathing suit bottom down and step out of it, leaving nothing underneath the shirt-dress. Nanami stares at you, eyes wide.

“Can’t stay in my wet bikini,” you say, unsticking the long shirt from your wet thighs.

“Right,” he says, regaining his composure and taking the bottoms from you, “I’ll hang it up with your top.”

For dinner, he makes you a pasta dish, and it’s delicious, but what you enjoy more is teasing him as he cooks, never letting him forget what you really want from him. You make multiple attempts at convincing him to forgo the dinner plans and head to his room, just so distracted by how his hands move and forearms flex as he prepares the food, but make little headway.

After the meal and patiently dealing with your quips that were only exacerbated by your glass of red wine, he leads you up a tall staircase to his bedroom. The lighting from the lamps on either side of his bed is soft and warm, and a glance at the dark window tells you that the night has been much longer than you realized.

He shuts the door behind you.

“Finally,” you sigh, leaning up to kiss him, but his rough hand on your shoulder stops you, bringing a confused frown to your face.

He takes his hand from your shoulder and uses it to tilt your chin up, his eyes darker than before. “You’ve been teasing me all night and expect me to reward that behavior?”

“You’re saying that like you didn’t enjoy it,” you respond, because if this is the game he wants to play, you’ll play it.

“However I felt does not change the fact that you were trying to work me up.”

You smirk up at him, guilty as charged.

Nanami puts his hand on the small of your back, guiding you to the foot of the bed. Then he waits, staring at you expectantly, so you sit down on the edge of the mattress, making sure the hem of his big t-shirt just barely covers the glistening mess between your legs. His eyes flick down to the tease and his jaw clenches.

“So you’re going to punish me then?” you wonder, thrilled by how riled up you’ve gotten your poor neighbor.

“I’ll see if it’s possible for a brat like you to behave first,” he says, parting your thighs. The breath he lets out at the sight of you is shaky. “Look at that,” he says, thumbing your wet folds.

You’ve been left wanting for his touch for too long, so your head falls back at the sensation of his hands against your plump lips, “I like feeling you there,” you admit, your voice breathy.

He hums, pleased, and continues to stroke you, fingers dipping in and out of your wetness, before he removes them and sinks down to his knees so his face is level with your cunt.

You allow your legs to fall open further, and he places his rough palms on the insides of your thighs to ensure they’ll stay that way. His hot breath fans against your folds, making you quiver with anticipation. When he leans forward and starts to eat you out, the only coherent thought you can think is: he knows what he’s doing.

It’s embarrassing, how you were talking so much talk, trying to woo your handsome neighbor with your honeyed words, and now the only thing coming out of your mouth is a series of whines and gasps as he glides his tongue along your folds. You bring your hand down, knotting it into Nanami’s golden hair, but he’s quick to remove it.

He tsks, “None of that. You’re going to be quiet and sit still like a good girl.”

Be quiet and sit still? When he’s making you feel so good? Does he know he’s asking the impossible?

You begin to whine before he interrupts you, “Do you want me to keep going?”

Wanting him so badly for the entire night and getting only a taste of the pleasure he can give you, it’s making the space between your legs hurt. Truthfully, you’ve been aching for him this whole time, and you just want to feel better.

He’s watching you, sharp eyes evaluating what you’ll say next, even though he knows the truthful answer to his question.

Defeated, you nod. He smiles. “Good girl. Now, stay still for me.”

He returns to his spot nestled between your thighs and pushes his tongue through your folds once more. The action would have earned a delighted sigh from you if you weren’t trying so hard to keep it in. Your teases must have really gotten to him if his retaliation is this cruel.

It becomes harder to pretend you’re unaffected by his touch when his tongue begins to close in on your clit, all swollen and sensitive. He’s been circling around the area, never making direct contact until now, when he gently flicks his tongue against it. Your body seizes and your mouth opens wide in a silent gasp.

He waits a moment, seeing if you’ll crack, but you don’t.

“So good,” he purrs, and warmth flows into your lower stomach.

His hands squeeze the flesh of your thighs as he encourages the tornado of heat twisting in your stomach with the gentle licks of his tongue on your clit. You should be given an award for how well you’re holding up, fighting to keep still and letting the man pleasure you how he wants all without allowing the noises your body needs to make escape your lips, which are now swollen from biting into them.

“Alright, I think you’ve proven you can be good when asked to be,” he says, kissing your clit, “So you don’t have to restrain yourself anymore.”

You should have learned your lesson by now, it wasn’t easy to stay quiet when all you wanted to do was moan Nanami’s name, but, even so, you're eager to push your neighbor’s buttons a little more. So you lie, saying that it “wasn’t even that hard to sit still.”

He pauses, which strikes both fear and excitement into your thundering heart, as he assesses your statement, disapproval etched into his sharp features.

“I didn’t want it to be too much for you the first time,” he says, “But if you want to continue to act like a brat, I’ll just have to deal with you like one.”

Then, with ruthless candor, he locks your legs in place by circling his big arms underneath them and clasping his hands together just above your lower stomach. His strong forearms are pressing down on your hips, rendering you pinned to the mattress beneath you.

“Kento, uh-wait–ah”

His mouth is on your heated core again, nuzzling the flesh before taking his clit into your mouth and sucking, hard. You buck your hips up, instinctively trying to escape the intense sensation, but his iron grip makes your effort all for naught.

Then his tongue rolls over your clit in his mouth, whiting out your vision. Your lips gasp his name, and then repeat it in a far more strained and strangled manner. He’s being so rough, tugging at you like a loose string in a sweater and unraveling you faster than you can take.

“I thought it wasn’t hard to keep quiet?” Nanami mocks, “I think I’ve heard my name two times just now.” It’s less than a second after he speaks for his mouth to resume the merciless stimulation to your clit.

“No, not–ah–not hard at all,” you say, pretending like you don’t have to rack your brain to be able to respond to him.

“Is that so? Tell me more.”

He’s asking too much and he knows it; you can’t focus with him touching you like this, each lap of his tongue washing away the start of every coherent thought. You moan as a response, hoping he will let you get away with it.

He doesn’t. “Darling,” he states. He wants the truth.

It all comes out like a waterfall, with your resolve eroded away by the waves of pleasure hitting your body. “Okay–okay–it–was–hard–to–be–quiet–and–I–I–just–need–you–to–keep–going–please–Kento–I–need–it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your clit as a reward. “That’s a good girl.” Then, he continues to tend to the growing want splitting apart your body with calculated licks and sucks along your ridges.

Much to Nanami’s satisfaction, you allow the whimpers and whines your body wants to make flow out of you, finally finished with being so difficult. He likes how needy and pliant you've become, especially since he’s been waiting to have you like this for a while. Dirty thoughts have been plaguing his mind since the block party when you were wearing a sundress that hugged every delectable curve and dip of your body. He remembers the exact color and pattern of the dress, because he's the type to be observant, which also means he's the type to know when he's getting you close.

“Fuck, Kento,” you gasp.

The way you're squeezing your legs together and quickening your breath tells him to keep his movements consistent, and in doing so, his tongue takes you to your climax in an embarrassingly quick amount of time. A final lap of his tongue unleashes a white-hot river of pleasure that twists around your core, making you gasp Nanami’s name as if he could do anything about it. Your body locks up: hands squeezing his forearms with your fingernails digging into his skin and your head falling back onto the mattress as you endure the sensation.

He crawls up next to you on the bed, talking you through it as you writhe. “That’s it, pretty girl,” he croons, watching your eyes flutter and listening to the sweet sounds of your pleasure-drunk babbling. “You’re doing so good.”

When your endless moans settle back down to panting, he cradles your cheek, asking you, “Are you alright, sweet thing? Was it too much?” His other hand is stroking your thigh in soothing patterns, delivering gentle pushes of pleasure as the disorienting buzz vibrating through your body fades away.

Catching your breath, you lean into his rough palm, “M’okay.” He smiles softly as he swipes his thumb along your cheekbone in gentle caresses, a stark contrast to the hard erection pressed to your thigh. It’s funny, how he’s pretending it isn’t even there, but you feel it, warm and throbbing against your leg.

He’s gotten his way, so it’s only fair that you get a turn, too.

Your eyes flick up to his face and your fingers play with the collar of his shirt when you say, “Now I wanna take care of you.” Your hand, still a little shaky from the impact of your orgasm, travels down his warm chest to the bulge in his pants. When you begin to stroke him over the fabric, he hisses and you smile up at him. “Seems like you need some attention, Kento.”

God, you’re such a tease, even after making you cum so hard you couldn’t see. If anything, it spurred you on.

He tries to say something, but you squeeze his erection and he’s unable to get his thoughts straight. Taking advantage of his weakness, you push his shoulder back, laying him down on the space on the mattress beside you. Then, you settle on top of him, sitting on his big legs with your hands near the notable outline pressing through his pants.

“It’s been such a long night,” you coo, unbuttoning his shirt so you can run your palms up and down the planes of his abs, careful to not get too close to his waistband. He watches your fingers as they skim his hot skin, a gentle and unconscious thrust of his hips pressing the clothed aching into nothing.

“Let me help you,” you offer, eyes lidded. He can’t take much more of this anymore, not after being teased all night and then seeing the face you made when you came on his tongue.

“Alright,” he concedes, breath uneven as your fingers approach his waistband, a pleased smile spread across your face.

You unzip his pants and pull down his briefs, freeing his throbbing erection and quickly taking it in your hands, running your fingers up and down his length in a loose fist. It twitches underneath your palm.

“Poor Kento,” you say as you stroke him, “So pent-up and needing to be taken care of.”

“You did this to me,” he responds through his teeth.

“Then I’ll make it up to you.” You lean forward, your lack of underwear allowing you to align your dripping hole and his cock with ease. And when you sink down on him, taking him deep inside of your warmth and bearing the delightfully painful stretch the movement comes with, Nanami sees heaven itself.

His hands clamp down on your hips as you begin to ride him, stabilizing yourself with his shoulders. The tight hug of your walls squeezes around him as you bounce up and down and make such sweet noises that compound the pleasure tearing through him.

“Fuck, darling,” Nanami says, eyebrows pressed together, “You feel so good.”

You smirk, leaning further forward, and capturing him in a messy kiss. The new angle has your clit brushing against the base of his dick as you grind, reinvigorating flames that lick the insides of your stomach. You’re moaning again, now into Nanami’s open mouth as he bucks his hips into you, chasing the release your warm walls are teasing him with. He’s been so disciplined this whole time, waiting to make sure he’s taken care of you before he got to fuck you, and now that he has, he isn’t holding back.

His thrusts are messy, quite unlike the thoughtful flicks of his tongue when he pleasured you. He can’t think straight when you feel this good.

“Seems that you like this,” you laugh, voice breathy and coated with arousal.

“Of course I do, dear,” he says, fingers squeezing at the flesh of your hips, “You’re—fuck—worth the wait.”

Your grin is victorious as you watch how he falls apart beneath you, chest heaving and a light pink glow spread across his nose and cheekbones. Nanami, who’s been watching your face—it’s his favorite place to look when being intimate—notices your delight.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, but it’s not accusatory, rather, amused.

If ‘this’ is referencing you having your hot next-door neighbor beneath you eagerly meeting your grinding hips and filling you up with his cock like it’s his life purpose, then yes, this is exactly what you wanted.

“It–ah”—his thrusts have gotten harder—“it is.”

“Is that so?” he asks, and then his hands wrap around your wrists, taking them from his shoulders and holding them by your sides, pulling you down so he can thrust harder and deeper into your cunt. “Let’s see if you can take it then.”

The wetness and cum from your orgasm have slicked your insides copiously, so it’s the pressure of having him so deep, kissing your cervix, that you’re having trouble adjusting to. Your mouth is gaping in silent gasps, the words fucked out of you, and your eyes are rolled back as he pistons himself in and out, his pace unforgiving. And there’s nothing you can do about it, with your arms pinned to your sides, you’re at his complete mercy as he slams his hips into your wet cunt.

“So f-fast, Kento,” you manage to say, “fuck.”

“I said I would treat you like the brat you are,” he responds.

Maybe this will teach you to not push him so far.

Or maybe it won’t, because having him so rough with you, pushing you to your limit, fucking you like he’s punishing you, it’s what’s stirring up a second orgasm deep in your stomach.

“K-Kento, feels s’good, my god–”

“That’s what I thought, dear,” he groans, “Figured you liked it rough. Can feel you clenching around me.”

He doesn’t sound like the gentleman you thought he was when he talks like this, but you love it.

You throw your head back, forcefully nearing your breaking point as he pulls you into him. His grip crushing your wrists, but the sensation is unfelt when you finally cum all over him.

An unbridled whine rips through your throat as your fingers curl into fists, your body shaking but unable to move due to Nanami’s hold. So all you’re able to do is stay upright as Nanami pulls you down into his dick once more, the contraction and spasms of your walls throwing him over the edge, and empties his load deep in you. His face is contorted in pleasure and he groans as your canal grants him the release you’ve teased him with all night.

The moment his grip on your wrist relaxes, you double over, falling down into the safety of his warm, broad chest. His dick is still inside you, but the sensation is not unwelcome; it feels nice to be connected to him as you cuddle.

You trace the lines of definition on his chest, his slowing heartbeat calming you. Nanami’s hand snakes underneath the oversized shirt to rub slow circles on your back. “How are you doing?” he asks, soft and sincere.

You nuzzle your head into his chest. “I’m good, a little tired though.”

“You’re welcome to spend the night.”

A warm, fuzzy feeling buzzes around your heart.

“But first, please, allow me to run you a bath. I can’t have you sleeping uncared for.”

You suppose you’ll have to get used to this kind of treatment.

“Okay,” you smile.

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crypticreid · 7 months

Text

KINKTOBER DAY FOUR

October 13 -- Virginity

masterlist

author's note: happy friday the 13th!! this is a behemoth, but it feels right to celebrate this day with a little bit of fireworks lol!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, I might do more of those throughout the month. thank you for reading and let me know if you want to be tagged! (also, because this took me so long, it isn't as tightly edited as my other work)

summary: To be completely honest, you're struggling a little bit with you new job at the BAU. Spencer is there to help. Oh, and maybe he can help you with a few other things too.

warnings: female reader, losing virginity, fingering, oral (female receiving), grinding, discussion about masturbation and mention of sex toys

word count: 6.9k (sorry? lol)

this is adut content. 18+ plus only. minors do not interact!

Morgan smiles up at you from his desk as you scramble into the bullpen. Garcia is leaning against his desk as she raises her eyebrows. You toss your go bag under your own desk and push your hair out of your face, trying to ignore the pair.

“Rough night?” Morgan giggles, as he pushes the pencil he’s holding through his circled fingers suggestively. Garcia guffaws, but at least has the decency to playfully hit Morgan on the shoulder.

“Can you two behave for like five minutes?” You groan and try to find your ID badge. You literally just had it to get into the BAU department, but now it has mysteriously disappeared. It isn’t on your desk or in any of your pockets, but you do find a couple crumpled up dollar bills that you toss onto your desk without thinking.

The appearance of the bills causes Morgan to whistle. Emily walks over and sees the offending currency. “Damn, invite me next time!” She laughs.

You roll your eyes and don’t reply. Instead, you pull up your go bag and start to empty it. Maybe you accidentally put your badge in one of the pockets, you rationalize.

“What is going on?” JJ asks with a small laugh, gesturing to the contents of your go bag now completely strewn across the desk. Clothing and toiletries clutter the surface and you know you look like a crazy person. And maybe you are crazy. No, you definitely are crazy. Anyone who does this job is absolutely batshit crazy.

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. You are absolutely not going to have a mental breakdown at eight in the morning in the bullpen, and definitely not in front of fucking Derek Morgan. “I can’t find my badge.” You mutter and drop down to your knees to look under your chair and desk.

You palm the dirty floor, but don’t find anything. Your friends stifle their laughter. “I would help you but this is not a crawl around on the floor kind of dress.” Penelope offers.

“Gee, thanks.” You say to yourself.

“Hey, has anyone seen –” Spencer stops in both his tracks and his sentence when he notices you on the floor. He swallows. “I found your ID badge. Over by the door. I think you dropped it.”

“Wonder boy saves the day!” Morgan exclaims.

Spencer finishes his trek over to you and offers a hand to help you up. You glance up at him, blushing slightly at the angle. Who would’ve thought you’d be on your knees in front of Dr. Reid? Okay, you’ve definitely thought about it, but your imagination didn’t normally make it happen inside Quantico and it absolutely never in front of your coworkers.

“Sorry, my hands are kind of dirty. Uh, from the floor.” You confess and take his hand as you stand up. His hand is warm and soft, like really soft. Like you could easily fall asleep to him rubbing your back in mindless patterns. As soon as you’re on your feet you slip your hand out of his to avoid your mind adding more ammunition to your middle of the night imaginations about Spencer.

“It’s okay.”

“Thanks. For the badge… and –” you take the badge from his other hand and gesture meaninglessly between the two of you.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles at you and you feel yourself redden deeper.

“Alright, alright! Time for kiss and tell!” Penelope exclaims and you blink away from your eye contact with Reid.

“What?” You whip your head around to her.

Emily makes kissing noises and musses her hair. “You. And some mystery person. Last night. Clearly.”

You turn toward her. “No. I wasn’t…” you start, your eyes flick over to Spencer as he walks toward his desk. “There’s no one.”

JJ leans on your desk and raises her brows. “Then what were you doing last night?”

You could not tell them the truth, but it was also impossible to lie to the best profilers in the country, so you give them a half truth. “Nothing. I just had a bad night.” You shrug and start to put your clothing back in your go bag, not bothering to fold it.

The truth is that it had been a bad night because you were struggling with the job. You’d been hired ten months ago and the lack of sleep, the neverending cases, and having to constantly deal with the horrific things humans can do to one another was taking its toll on you. Yesterday had been a day off and you wanted to use it to catch up on sleep, but everytime you closed your eyes, the faces of the people you couldn’t save filtered in. You hadn’t been able to get a good night’s sleep since you started and it had caused a complete breakdown last night. You had pulled up Hotch’s contact information four times ready to quit, but you knew you couldn’t do it. You were here for a reason, you’d stick it out.

Penelope hums. “Well, if it wasn’t a person… then it must’ve been alcohol.”

“Or gambling.” Emily adds.

You roll your eyes. “I don’t gamble.”

“You should. It’s a lot of fun. I’ll play you in Blackjack.” Emily smiles.

“Don’t play with her, she counts cards.” Reid murmurs absentmindedly as he reads over a file at his desk.

“I do not!”

Everyone laughs, but then the laughter dies away when Hotch comes out of his office. “Looks like no one gets to have fun for a couple of days.” Emily groans.

On the flight home after the case, you’re seated across from Spencer. Everyone else is asleep or has headphones in, even Hotch is passed out on the couch, which is rare. You still can’t sleep, so you stare out the window into the darkness as you fly over Virgina. Spencer clears his throat and you roll your head to look at him.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

You allow a small smile to form on your lips. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He swallows and puts the book in his hand down in his lap as he leans forward slightly. “I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but you don’t really seem like yourself lately. Are you sure you’re okay?”

The sore achy feeling of wanting to cry but holding it in burns your throat. You cough softly. “I’m okay, really. Just – having trouble sleeping.” You give just a little bit of information, hoping it assuages his curiosity.

“Is it that mystery person keeping you up at night?” He asks point-blankly.

Your mouth is agape and you snap it shut, “did you just make a joke?”

“I tried to.” He smiles and you match his smile with your own.

“There really isn’t anyone.” You shake your head. “I’ve never –” you almost let the rest of the sentence slip out, but stop yourself just in time. The lack of sleep is obviously affecting you more than you thought.

“You’ve never what?” The way he moves his body forward in his seat makes your heart thrum in your chest. His body language is clear, even a rookie behavioral analyst could tell, he was prepared to listen to what you have to say. Not only that, but he actually cared.

You bite the inside of your cheek before letting out a sigh. Before you answer, you lean closer toward him, “I’ve never had sex, actually.”

His eyes widen and he clears his throat, “you’re a –”

“Virgin,” you finish for him. “I’m not ashamed or embarrassed by it. And it isn’t like I’m saving it or anything. It just hasn’t happened yet.” You shrug. “In all honesty, part of me just wants to pick some random person and get it over with.” You let out a small breathy laugh in an attempt to make you feel less awkward.

“Why haven’t you?” You meet his eyes. “I mean, just found a random person to get it over with?”

One of your shoulders lifts in a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. Like when I think about it, I realize that I’d rather have someone I trust, you know. Someone who would take care of me and not just see me as another notch on their bedpost. At least for the first time. And then after that, I’d feel more comfortable just going out and… you know.”

“Notching up some bed posts.” He nods knowingly and you giggle. He smiles, you notice that he enjoys making you laugh. A lot of the time it seems like people are maybe laughing at him or about him, but not you. He’s never the butt of the joke for you.

“Sure, Spencer.” You can’t help, but trail your eyes over him and contemplate the question that’s on the tip of your tongue. “How did you lose your virginity?”

He doesn’t seem offended or shocked by your question. “In college.”

You scoff, “weren’t you like twelve?”

“During my undergrad, yes. But I have multiple PhDs.”

“Of course, Doctor Reid.”

He shifts in his seat. “I was twenty. She was, uh, we worked in the same lab. And had the same research advisor.”

“So you two experimented on each other.” You joked.

Spencer’s face flushed and you felt a pang deep in your stomach. “In a way, yes.”

“I’m joking, Spencer.” He nods in understanding. “Were you like her boyfriend?”

“No, we just –”

“Hooked up.” You finish for him.

“For a couple months, yeah.”

Your mouth drops and you whisper, “you had a fuck buddy?”

His blush deepens. “I don’t think we ever called each other that.”

“What did you call her?”

“I don’t know. We never talked about it. I finished my doctoral thesis before her.” He shrugs.

“Wow, who knew.”

“What?”

“Morgan isn’t the only playa on the team.” You giggle and scrunch your nose, feeling the stress of the last few weeks dissipate from your shoulders.

“I’m not…” he laughs and shakes his head. He glances out the window. “We’re landing soon.” He swallows and leans back in his seat. It was terrible, but you had a strong urge to step across to his seat and straddle his lap and kiss him until you were both breathless. You turn your gaze back to the window and try to force the image away.

Your car wouldn’t start. You forcefully turned the key in the ignition again, and it sputtered and died. As you hit your steering wheel, you let out a frustrated noise and hit it again. You turn to grab your cell phone from your bag to call a tow truck and jump when you hear a knock on your driver’s side window. Spencer stands there apologetically, waving his hand with his closed mouth smile.

He steps aside when you open the car door and get out. “Is everything okay?”

“No.” You laugh bitterly. “My car won’t start and I need to get a tow.” You bite your lip, but can’t stop the tears that bubble over.

Spencer freezes, but then reaches out and touches your shoulder lightly. “It’s okay.” For some reason his comfort makes you cry harder. “Oh, uh, here,” he mutters and pulls you into a full hug. He squeezes you tight against him and rubs your back as you cry into his chest.

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” You blubber into his shirt.

“No, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Is it?” You pull away from his chest to look in his eyes. “I’m failing at this job and –”

“Woah, failing at this job?” He interrupts. “Who said that?” His brows furrow angrily.

“No one.” You blink away the tears stuck in your eyelashes and Spencer reaches up and swipes away one that trails down your cheek.

“You’re not failing. You’re excelling. You’re incredible. Truly, I mean that. I wouldn’t lie to you. I promise.” He swallows and you realize how close to his face you are, his hands wrapped around your back.

You don’t stop yourself, even though you know you should, as you lean into him. His eyes flutter down to your lips, but he doesn’t pull away, so you keep going. Your lips touch his lightly, barely there before you back away.

His hands tighten on you and pull you closer to him. He chases your lips with his and kisses you back, your own hands are on his chest and they twist into his shirt. You kiss him fervently, his hands traveling to your lower back, arching you into him. A moan escapes from the back of your throat and it breaks the spell. Spencer pulls away from the kiss.

His lips are pink and shimmery and you want to kiss him again. Desperately. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs, his tongue slipping out and swiping across his bottom lip.

“What for?” You blink.

“Kissing you.”

“I kissed you.”

“I kissed you back.”

“And you should do it again.”

His eyes dart to your lips. He wants to, you can tell, but he stops himself. “We shouldn’t.”

“Not here, at least.” You glance behind him and pray that the parking garage is completely empty. If your coworkers acted the way they did this morning about a nonexistent mystery person, you can only imagine their reactions if they saw you making out with Spencer.

“It’s inappropriate.”

“I don’t care.”

“There’s paperwork.”

“Not if we don’t tell anyone.”

“That’s not how that works.” He laughs, you can feel the vibrations of the sound against his chest.

“Do you always play by the rules, Dr. Reid?”

He swallows harshly, you watch the movement of his Adam’s apple bob against the tight skin of his neck. “I’ll drive you home.” He deflects.

You reach up on your toes and kiss him again. His hands spread on your back and press you against him and your hands pull him tighter to you, wrinkling his shirt. You hear footsteps and both of you step away from each other instantly, putting distance between your bodies. You turn your head to see a person you don’t recognize come into view from the other side of the parking garage. They don’t even glance in your direction. The hammering in your chest slows and you turn back to Spencer. He runs a hand through his hair.

“Grab your bag.” He says with an authority that makes you spring into action quickly. Neither of you say anything as you follow him down the rows of agents’ cars to his car. He opens the passenger side for you, the vintage car creaks in protest. He closes the door and you watch from the rearview mirror as he walks around the back of the car toward the driver’s side, his hands in his pocket.

He slides into the car seat and starts the car, it rumbles to life loudly. “I normally don’t even drive to work, just take public transportation. But I had an errand the other day.” He explains absentmindedly as he checks the rearview mirror and slowly backs out of the park spot.

“It’s kismet.”

“I always thought it was interesting that the English pilfered that word from the Turkish language. Considering words like fate and destiny already existed. Some etymologists attribute it to the rampant orientalism at the time. You know, like kismet was more mysterious or mystical or exciting than just simple fate.” He rambles and drives you out of the parking garage. A heady want begins to grow in your lower stomach. “And of course, the Turkish developed the word from an Arabic word meaning portion or lot. Which is fascinating.”

“It is.” You say earnestly.

He glances over at you sheepishly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble.”

“Don’t apologize. I like it.”

His eyes are already back on the road, but you can see his cheeks redden in a slight blush. “Where do you live?” He asks and you tell him. It isn’t a long drive, well it isn’t this late at night. Your morning commute is a nightmare. He gives you a brief look, “why did you join the BAU?”

You exhale a long breath before you answer. “I wanted to help people I guess. Which is so cliche, but it’s the truth. Like it isn’t even about putting bad guys away or whatever. I just want to make the world safer. For everyone.” You look over at him and he meets your gaze for a split second.

“You are doing a good job.” He states. You shake your head. “I mean it. You are. You’re making a difference. You’re helping people.”

“But how do you keep your head above water? I mean… how do you not let it beat you down?”

“We have each other. And you focus on the good.”

You sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, letting his words sink in. “Thanks, Spencer. For everything today.”

He pulls into a parking spot in front of your apartment building. “I’ll walk you up.”

You go to unbuckle your seatbelt, but it doesn’t budge. You try again, but again, nothing.

“Oh, sometimes it sticks. Here,” he leans across the middle and reaches for your seatbelt buckle. His fingers graze the outside of your thigh and inhale sharply, electricity buzzing from the simplest of touches. He unbuckles you and you let the seat belt slide across your body, he doesn’t move away from you. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin, it enflames you.

“Spencer,” you whisper and turn your head toward him. His eyes slowly trail down your face toward your lips and then back up to your eyes. You can’t take it, so you lean forward and kiss him again. Tentative at first, waiting for him to respond. He does, his hands pulling your face closer to his, deepening the kiss. When you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip you open for him, let him explore and learn. You sigh into his mouth, your hands find their way to the back of his neck.

He slips away from you, breathless, but starts to kiss down your jaw. He mutters your name against your skin. You feel the warmth of his kisses travel down your spine toward your core.

“Come upstairs.” You sigh, when he bites lightly on a sensitive spot on your neck.

“I can’t. I shouldn’t.” He pants against your skin.

“I want you.”

He groans, deep and frustrated, and moves to lean his forehead against yours, both of your heavy breathing intermingling and becoming one. “You shouldn’t want me.”

“Why not? And don’t say the bullshit about us working together. I don’t care, Spencer. I trust you. I want you.”

He backs his head away from your forehead so that he can look into your eyes, his thumb against your cheek brushes back and forth. “You trust me?”

“With everything in me.” He kisses you again, softly, tenderly.

“I’ll take care of you.”

“I know.” You kiss him back and then pull away. He nods and you return it with a nod of your own.

His tongue glides across his lip and he swallows. You blink and he’s moving out of his seat and already at the passenger side door before you can reach for the handle. He opens it quickly and helps you out. It’s old school, but it makes your heart stutter and start. When he takes your hand in his, it feels like two magnets being drawn together. He slams the car door shut and you lead him up to your apartment.

Once you unlock your front door and guide him in, you shut the door and turn to look at him. You flick on the light. He stares at you and asks, “you’re sure?”

“Positive.” You step toward him and reach out to slide your hands across his stomach and then land on his waist. “Do I have to kiss you first again, or –” you don’t have to finish your question before his lips are on yours. His kisses are not tentative or searching, they’re needy and impassioned. Before long, you’re clawing at his shirt, untucking it from his pants and then reaching up to undo his tie.

He stops you as he breathes laboriously. “Wait, we should slow down.”

You continue to work on his tie, perpetually crooked, but now just an obstacle to what you need desperately. “I don’t wanna go slow.”

He moans and you finally get his tie undone and whip it off. “No, we should.”

Your fingers work deftly against his buttons, one at a time, and you look up at him. “I’m a virgin, but I’m not inexperienced. I’m not a delicate flower.”

His expression changes, his eyes grow heavy and he quirks his jaw. “Not inexperienced?”

“I’m not.” You almost sound like a petulant teenager.

“How far?”

“What?”

“How far have you gotten?” Your hands stop almost halfway through the third to last button. You don’t answer. His voice deepens, gravely and sexy, “you’ve clearly kissed before.” You nod. “Have you had someone feel your breasts?” As he asks the question, his hand reaches up and caresses your breast. You lean into the touch. “Has anyone put their mouth on your breasts, marking you as theirs? Rolling your nipple between their teeth?” He inclines his head into the crook of your neck and presses a hot kiss there. “Have you ever had somebody's mouth on your clit?”

Your breathing is sharp and jagged, but Spencer simply continues. “Would you let someone use their tongue to make you come? Or maybe even their fingers? Pump their fingers into until you're squirming?”

“Spencer,” you plead.

He continues to massage your breast as his other hand slips under your shirt and trails across your hips and stomach. “Or do you just mean that you’ve touched yourself? You’ve laid in bed and explored this beautiful body. Know just exactly how to make yourself shiver from your own fingers.”

You’re almost overwhelmed by his touch, his lips on your skin, and his words, your head is spinning, but you’re also desperate for more.

“We’re going to take it slow.” He informs you and it isn’t up for discussion. “Not because I think you’re a delicate flower.” He throws your own words back at you. “But because I want to take my time with you. I want to learn everything about your body. I want to touch every single inch of you with my hands. I want to make you come, I want to feel you come. Over and over again.” You’re practically shaking in his hands when his lips and teeth scrap across your jaw and to your lips. He takes them with his and you’re like clay on a potter’s wheel, malleable and completely at his will, waiting to be crafted into his masterpiece.

“Do you want that?” He breathes on your lips.

You somehow know instinctively that he wants a verbal confirmation, so you answer, “yes.”

He continues to kiss you, deeply, almost like a starved man tasting his first bit of sustenance. You answer with your own fervency. His hand at your hip squeezes and pulls you tight against him and you feel his want against you. It makes you moan. You grind your body against him and his grip tights even more.

“Bedroom. Where’s your bedroom?” He stutters, but doesn’t stop kissing you and you don’t stop either. Your hands are in his hair, pulling and twisting, holding him impossibly close to you. You didn’t know kissing could make you feel this way, simultaneously feverish and desperate, but also insatiable. You felt like you could kiss Spencer for a lifetime and never tire of it. He wasn’t close enough even though your bodies were pressed together, you needed more. The only thought in your brain is simply, more, more, more.

He pulls away from you, both of you taking heaving breaths. His lips were perfectly pink, your body thrummed with the knowledge that you caused such a change in him.

“Bedroom.” The single word went straight to your core. You take his hand and guide him to your bedroom.

Once you turn on the light, he’s behind you, pressing into you. You can feel every part of him, and he kisses the back of your neck. He’s back to being soft and gentle. He brings his hands to your stomach and inches them under your shirt until he has your breasts in his hands.

Your breasts feel heavy and logically you know why. Blood has rushed to them, just as it has rushed to your other erogenous zones, and it is sending a signal to your brain to release oxytocin. But you’re realizing that logic has no place in your head when Spencer’s hands and mouth are on you. Logic means nothing to you at this moment.

“You’re so beautiful.” He compliments as he fondles your breasts, your head lolls back against his chest. He angles his head so he can kiss your cheek. “You distracted me that very first case you were on. Did you know that?”

“No,” your eyes flutter shut when he moves down to kiss your jaw.

“I thought you were so gorgeous. After the case, I went home to my apartment and touched myself as I imagined you. I felt so ashamed, I couldn’t even look you in the eyes the next morning.”

Your mind wanders back to all those months ago. “I thought I had done something wrong,” you remember.

“No, it was me. I was wrong. But I couldn’t stop. I mean you can feel what you do to me.” He was right, you could distinctly feel the effect you had on him.

“I thought of you too.” You confess.

“You did?” His voice is low and breathy and you nod. “In that bed.” He ticks his head to gesture toward it. “Tell me.”

You feel yourself heat with blush. His thumbs brush across your nipples through your bra and your breath gets caught in your throat. You swallow and answer. “I would lie there, normally because I couldn’t sleep. And then I’d think about you. Your hands, I’d think about your hands.”

“My hands?” He squeezes your breasts.

You nod and answer simultaneously, “yes. I’d imagine them on my body, touching me.” He brushes your nipples again and you shiver. “And I’d slip my hand into my underwear, and rub my clit. Pretend it was you.” His hands abandon your breasts and slide around to your back. You step forward as he takes off your shirt and then unhooks your bra and helps you out of it. His hands on your hips turn you to face him.

“I knew you were beautiful. But you’re perfect.” Your instinct is to feel self conscious under his gaze, but you push it away when you notice the admiration in his eyes.

You reach for him and finish the job of unbuttoning his shirt and then peeling it off of him. “Fair is fair.” You say. He laughs, but his laugh dies in his throat when your nails scratch down his chest.

Your hands explore his exposed chest and back, feeling the muscle move underneath soft skin, and he works to rid you of your pants. You use him for balance as you step out of your pants, but as soon as you're standing on two feet again, he backs you toward your bed.

When the back of your legs hit the bed, you allow yourself to fall back onto it. He leans over you, your legs open for him and he kisses you again. Your hands continue their previous tour of his back, now feeling how his shoulder blades move when he grinds against you.

The first time he does it, you throw your head back in a moan. Even though you have multiple layers of fabric between you, you can still feel the heat radiating through you. He does it again and you arch up to meet his movement. When he does it a third time your nails scratch down his back.

He makes a low noise from the back of his throat and you know that your panties are soaked. His lips take a journey down your body, kissing and nipping at your clavicle, your chest, spending a significant amount of time on both of your breasts, and down your stomach. Your clawing at his back by the time his mouth meets the band of your underwear.

“Look at you,” he whispers. His thumb rubs lightly at your clit over the fabric. Your thighs clench and he laughs. “Keep them open for me, baby.” You mewl at the pet name. “You like that? Being called baby?”

“Yes.” You groan out when his thumb repeats his earlier action.

He does it again, almost unbearably slow. “I want to taste you so bad. I’ve wanted to know how good you taste for so long.” His voice is strained.

“You can. I want you to.”

His hands skate up to the hem of your underwear and you lift your hips slightly as he pulls them down. You open your legs for him again and he swallows. “Stunning.” His mouth is on you before you have time to process the word.

Almost instantly, he moans against you, the vibrations causing your toes to curl. Your hands clench your duvet and he pulls away for a split second, “touch me.” You do what he asks, coiling your fingers into his hair. He laps at your clit, creating a pattern and rhythm that makes your buck up to meet him. His hands grip at your hips and hold you in place.

“Spencer, oh fuck,” you ramble. He answers by moaning against you again and then sucking your clit into his lips. You bite down a scream. The heat at the base of your spine spreads across your body. “Oh my god. Oh god.”

He alternates between lapping and sucking at your sensitive bud, your nails practically digging into his scalp, your toes curling, as you try to catch your breath. Just at the moment where it feels like too much, your body clenches and crashes over the edge of your ecstacy, his name falling from your lips repeatedly.

He continues to lap at you softly until your muscles relax in his arms and then he looks up at you, smiling and his lips glistening, “you’re incredible.” You pull him up, so that you can kiss him. You kiss the taste of you off his lips. He brings his head up to look at you, pushes away the stray hairs stuck to your forehead. “Are you going to get sick of me calling you beautiful?” He smiles.

“No, I don’t think I could.” He smiles into another kiss. His hands travel down your body and as soon as one of his fingers slides across your folds, the flames reignite.

“Is this okay?” He asks. “I want all of you.” One of his fingers slips inside of you and then he pulls it out. He slides it back in and then repeats his action, starting slow and building up to a comfortable tempo, as he continues to kiss you. Nothing about his movements is frantic, but rather languid and relaxed, gently stoking the growing fire inside of you. You grind your hips against his finger and he smoothly adds a second finger. The feeling is different, but not bad as you feel yourself accommodating the extra digit.

“Alright?” He checks in with you, looking into your eyes.

“It feels good.” It’s not like the times you’ve laid here in this bed with your fingers inside you. It’s an entirely divergent sensation that you don’t think your imagination would have been able to conjure. “Really good.”

“Yeah?” He stops sliding his fingers in and out and instead leaves them inside as he pumps them, almost as if he’s searching. He finds what he’s looking for when you gasp and cling to his shoulder.

“Yeah.” You nod furiously, biting down on your lip. He’s no longer building the tension within you. Instead, it’s like he’s playing with a taut rubber band, waiting for it to snap.

You feel your eyes start to close, wanting to roll to the back of your head. “Keep your eyes on me, baby. I want to see. Want to see you come apart for me.”

You force your eyes open. “Spencer…”

“I know, relax into it.” His thumb starts to rub your clit. “You’re doing so good.”

“Oh my god,” you start to mutter and ramble again, a mixture of curses and Spencer’s name. You never break eye contact with him. It’s intense, but also intimate.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?”

You let out a whine in answer and feel a muscle in your thigh twitch. Your core clenching on his fingers, the wet sounds of his fingers inside of you filling the room. The grip on his shoulders is tight and you hope it isn’t painful, but he barely seems to notice, all of his attention is on you. The mixture of admiration and lust on his features is almost too much. But you’re realizing that Spencer Reid never does anything part way or half-assed. Once Spencer puts his mind to something, he’s going to accomplish it. Not only that, but he’s going to put an almost Herculean effort into it. And somehow, you’ve become something he’s put his mind to. The thought makes you lean up and kiss him.

You kiss him until a gasp separates your lips from him. “So perfect,” he muses. Your core constricts and contracts on his fingers. Your breathing is short and your legs feel like they’re shaking, but you can’t really tell. “Come for me.”

One more shaky breath and then you do, the rubber band snaps. Your body arcs up into him and he swallows your shout with his lips, kissing you deeply. Again, he slows down but doesn’t stop, guiding you down from your high. When he does pull his fingers from you, you watch as he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean.

This time you don’t need him to rekindle the flame of need inside of you, it's already there. You reach between your bodies for his belt. Together, the two of you make quick work of the last of his clothing. And then he’s kissing you again, both his hands and your own caress, rub, and grab at each other. You reach down lower and lower, until you meet his hardened length with your hand. You grip the base and he falters.

“I’d love that. Really, I want it so bad. But I won’t last, baby.” You squeeze him again and smile up at him, fluttering your eyelashes. “You’re a vixen.” He laughs, kissing you.

“I want you.”

“Fuck. I don’t have a condom.” You blink, it’s the first time you’ve ever heard Spencer drop the f-bomb. You giggle.

“I have some.” One of his eyebrows raises in question and you shrug. “I like to be prepared. They’re over there.” You gesture toward your nightstand and he stretches over to open it.

“Oh,” he lets out a surprised gasp and just then you remember what else is in your top drawer. “I guess you don’t just use your fingers to masturbate, do you?” He laughs.

You reach up behind you and grab a pillow and toss it at him. He dodges it and it falls to the floor. “Like I said, I’m a virgin, not inexperienced.”

Spencer grabs the box of unopened condoms, opens it and pulls one out. He carefully places the box back, his eyes lingering on your menagerie of sex toys.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“I have an eidetic memory. I’m remembering… for later.” He smiles and you feel your heart speed up, pounding against your ribcage. You hadn’t had time to discuss anything past tonight. His smile falters. “I mean – I don’t mean to presume anything. Only if you want.”

You reach over to him and pull him back toward you, kissing him. “I do. I want there to be a next time. Other times.”

He looks down at you, searching. “Good, I do too.” He kisses you and only pulls away to put on the condom. He continues his kisses as he moves to position himself, spreading your legs for him. He brushes his thumb over your clit again and you moan. When he lifts his head from yours and glances up at you. You nod your head.

You feel the tip of him at your entrance, pressing against you, but not fully in. That’s all he does at first, until you move on him and allow him to slip into you. He works himself into you, allowing you to stretch around him. It isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s definitely a new sensation. None of your toys feel like him. Both of you watch as his penis slowly disappears inside of you. He pushes in the last inch with a thrust. There’s a flash of a pinch and you let out a breath.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, just give me a second.” He nods, licks his bottom lip and then resumes his circles on your clit. It only takes a few seconds for you to relax on him. You grind your hips, somehow taking him deeper. He groans. “Move, Spencer. Please.”

He inches out of you and then pushes back in without any urgency or force. He starts the same pattern and rhythm his fingers had used earlier that night. The feeling of him moving inside of you is incredible, you can feel him dragging against your walls. His body against yours, skin to skin, more connected than you’ve ever been with anyone else. Between the feeling of him pumping into and his movement against your clit, it doesn’t take long until you’re clawing at his back, wordlessly asking him for more. He answers, creating a relentless rhythm that you grind your hips to match.

At some point, your eyes had shut and you hadn’t realized and so you force them open again, wanting to watch Spencer come apart just like he watched you. “You feel so good. Better than I could have imagined.” He starts to ramble. “I can’t believe I get to feel you like this. So good.”

His eyes shoot down to watch himself slip in and out of you. “Fuck.” He cusses again. You decide you like when he curses, especially if you’re the reason. He moves his hips and his cock finds the same spot his fingers found earlier and you clench around him as you let out a deep groan.

You lose track of time, it moves at a snail’s pace, but also at the speed of light. Time ceases to exist to you, your world shrinks down to only the two of you, everything else falls away. And then you’re falling again, diving headfirst into an orgasm.

“Yes, yes. I love feeling you like this. Oh my god… oh fuck. I’m gonna –” he sputters.

You reach up and pull his lips to yours, kissing him through his own orgasm. He shakes above you as he pumps into you with a final harsh push. And then when he peaks, he slowly fucks into you through his orgasm. He continues to kiss you until both of your breathing returns to normal and then he lifts his head to look at you.

He smiles and you can’t help it when a huge toothy smile appears on your own face.

“Are you okay?” He inquires.

“I’m perfect.”

His hand reaches up and caresses the side of your face. “You are.”

The next morning you walk into the office still smiling. Everyone is around the desks, including Spencer. He glances over at you and nods in greeting, as if you hadn’t just said goodbye to him a few hours ago, the first golden rays of dawn streaming through your bedroom window.

“Good morning.” You say to everyone. You set your go bag down at your desk and Emily smiles over at you, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Oh, Morgan. You had it all wrong.” She teases.

Morgan looks at Emily and then over to you. “What?”

“That is the look of a woman who got it real good last night.” Emily laughs, loud and brash. You smile with her and Penelope gasps.

“Tell. Me. Everything.” She runs over to you and grabs onto your arm.

“I have no idea what you mean.” You reply innocently.

JJ smirks. “Oh, she got it real good last night.”

“Is sex all you guys think about?” You joke. The girls laugh and Morgan still seems confused. Spencer is focused on the file on his desk, but his finger isn’t moving down it and you know he isn’t reading it. “I had a good night last night.” You give a small inch, just to stave them off. Penelope squeals. You grab her hand. “And that’s all I’ll say about it.”

“Boo!” Emily exclaims.

Penelope almost pouts. “Oh, you are the worst!”

“I know!” You laugh gleefully. Spencer looks up for only a split second, but you catch it and he smiles at you.

“I’ll find out eventually. You do know that, right?” Penelope warns.

“You are terrifying.” You squeeze her arm and turn away from the group to start on your mountain of files. It’s true that eventually everyone would probably find out about you and Spencer, but for now the two of you get to live in your own personal world. You smile to yourself.

tag list: @spenciesprincess @catalinasroom @tylevx @alicentswife @ingrid69rs @sobbingcryingattsizzles @infinitegalaxiesworld

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #my writing #ohh my god i did not mean to write this much lmao

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underdark-dreams · 8 months

Text

[Poll results]

A smut piece for Rolan that became a 7k word fic. I don't know what it is about him--I just need him to be happy. 🖤 For anyone else who feels the same!

In Amber

Rolan can't remember what made him this way. Bitter, insufferable. He only knows he wants things with her to be different. A series of encounters between Rolan and the person who is teaching his black heart how to hope.

Tags: Fem Unnamed Tav, Explicit Sexual Content, Mild Hurt/Comfort | Word Count: 7,033 [Read on AO3]

The beloved hero of the Grove has saved them all from the Shadow Curse, apparently.

Word spreads fast, and it's all Rolan hears the Harpers talking about in their rush to take final leave of Last Light Inn. Nearly all had gone to Moonrise Towers with the Druid, but a small group stayed behind with Isobel in case the fight turned to the worst.

Rolan was the first one packed. With the shadows lifting, all he wants to do is travel the road to Baldur's Gate and finally reach his destiny. Leave this hollow place behind him.

At last they are finally moving in the right direction again--the three of them along with Lakrissa and Alfira, led by the Harper rangers.

He glances at Cal and Lia walking beside him. They're in the middle of chatting about the first things they want to do when they reach the lower city. Rolan can't seem to stop checking that they’re still there–as if he might look to find them gone once more.

He hasn't seen their savior since the night she brought his siblings back to him. That made twice now that she'd saved all three of their lives. Few things bristled against his nature more than owing a debt that couldn't be repaid. Rolan didn't like the feeling of being under anyone's thumb.

She wouldn't even accept a reward for saving his brother and sister's lives, just waved him away with a smile on her lips. The memory frustrated him endlessly. He couldn't understand why she took such an interest in helping him and his family. He was even beginning to consider that goodness of heart might really exist…at least when it came to hers.

Half of his mind felt tormented by her inscrutable kindness. The other half thought he'd very much like to kiss her.

Before he could brush away the alarming idea, the Harpers in front threw up a cheer. Rolan looked around to see the commotion.

She and her companions were covered in more blood than he'd seen on them yet, but they were still standing as they led their small army down the path from Moonrise Towers.

His eyes light automatically to her face–it shines with a radiant smile, but Rolan recognizes the way her shoulders slump under her armor. He is flooded with relief. At least she's alive.

Their groups converge on the road outside the tower. Everything is a jumble of cheers and shouts as the Harpers jostle forward to reunite with their comrades; a man he's never met claps Rolan’s shoulder hard enough to make him wince.

"Go on, then," says Lia beside him. She's following his gaze knowingly. "While you've got a chance."

He only manages to throw his sister a scowl before she trots away. Is it that obvious?

He decides to take her advice after all. She was right that this could very well be the final time their paths converged. Baldur's Gate was a large city, and whatever grand adventures their savior would face next, he doubted they would involve spending much time browsing magical emporiums.

She gave him a little wave as he approached, the kind one might give an old friend. It pricked his conscience. He'd thanked her for saving Cal and Lia, true, but his mind tossed up all the countless other times he'd been needlessly unpleasant toward her.

"Seems we owe you thanks yet again," he said, hoping it came off sincere.

She shook her head wryly. "I've never done any of it alone, you know that. Every one of these people fought like hells in there."

Standing close, his nose was hit by the thick tang of blood that coated on her armor. How much of it was hers?

"You should go to see Isobel," Rolan insisted. He'd drag her straight to the cleric himself, if she'd let him.

"Do I look that bad?" She was teasing, but there was a strain to it. "As long as I make it to my bedroll in the next hour, I'll be fine. You're sweet to worry, though."

"Stop saying things like that," Rolan snapped, unable to contain himself. "You're so nice, and I'm just a bastard."

Her eyes widened at him, taken aback. "I don't think you're a bastard."

Rolan looked down at his hands. "That's what makes you so nice," he said. He had to get to the point. "Look…I know I haven't been the easiest person to get along with. I've been rude and awful, ever since the Grove, and you didn't deserve it. So." He straightened up properly. "I'm sorry for that."

It's far less eloquent than he'd rehearsed, but she seems to understand the sentiment.

"Don’t worry about it," she tells him. "You feel responsibility for the people you love. That can make anyone forget themselves for a while."

"I suppose," is all he can manage to say. How well she seems to speak what's in his mind.

Her Githyanki companion approaches with a clear intention to speak with her, and Rolan turns away, not wanting to intrude on the company of her true friends.

"Rolan, wait–"

The flutter in his stomach humiliates him. Will he ever get used to her saying his name?

She rummages in the pack at her waist. "Almost forgot. I found something–well, stole, but it doesn't matter now."

A fist is held out to him, closed around something.

Uncertain what to expect, Rolan offers his hand. Her fingers graze softly against his as they deposit something small and hard. He looks down at his palm.

"A rock," he says, deadpan.

"Not just any rock, it's a topaz."

Rolan blinks at her. "And…what am I supposed to do with this, exactly?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "Keep it, or don't. It just made me think of you. Matches your eyes." The admission brought a flush of pink to her cheeks.

He felt his heart skip at the sight, followed by a jolt of fear–as if she might be able to see the hope blooming inside his chest.

He turns away with a tut. "Absurd."

She gave only a satisfied laugh before taking her leave. Once she'd retreated out of sight, he tucked the gem securely into the folds of his robe.

Rolan has long abandoned the fantasy that he is his master's apprentice.

Whipping boy would be a more accurate job description. Perhaps test subject. He is trapped in an impossible game that he can never win, and his highest purpose is to be the canvas where Lorroakan paints his next magical experiment.

His mind shudders at the way the red wizard's eyes rest on him during "lessons": casually devoid of all concern or care. No matter how hard Rolan concentrates, no matter what he answers, it won't be good enough. And then the pain will follow.

The mindless Constructs are worth far more to his master than he is.

There was a time when someone made Rolan feel like he could deserve more, but that time is gone now. All he can hope is to learn enough, train hard enough, and one day claw his way through to something better.

Today, however, will offer the chance of a reprieve. He's been sent to deliver a message on foot across the lower city. Weeks ago he would've seen the task as an insult. Now he wonders whether it might take all morning, if he's lucky.

If he often feels like a drowning man, these moments of escape are like a sweet gasp of air. He walks with his face tilted up to soak in the sun's warmth.

The marks of abuse that paint his features have long stopped troubling him. An occasional passerby might stare at the bruises, but since the Absolute army's march, most Baldurians give Tieflings a wide enough berth not to notice. One wearing fine robes is no different to them.

As he passes the bridge to the Counting House, his eyes land on her figure. He stops short in surprise, earning himself a rude remark about clumsy devils from the woman behind him.

Rolan would recognize her face in any crowd. She stood on the bridge in the middle of some kind of confrontation between two women; one of them a beggar, by the state of her, the other finely dressed.

As he watches he very clearly sees her invite the rich one to "piss off", to the woman's indignation.

An affectionate chuckle escapes him. Then he winces, hand rising to the cracked skin on his lip. He tastes a drop of blood.

Swift panic grips his chest. She can't fucking see him like this, not once–more broken and pathetic than ever. Not after how many times she's already played rescuer to him. He cringes in shame at the thought.

At least she hasn't found him trapped behind his desk, there's a chance he can slip away unnoticed yet–

"Rolan?"

He missed his moment by a hair. It's unfortunate that hearing her voice after all this time freezes him straight to the cobblestones, or he might consider dashing away like a coward.

"I thought that was you! I'd recognize those horns anywhere."

Resigned, he turns back toward her. But he keeps his face cast down toward the pavement.

"What do you want?" He asks stiffly.

"Hello to you too," she laughs, and he stifles the impulse to watch her do so. "It's been a while. Cal and Lia, they're good?"

"Thanks to you," he concedes. No thanks to me.

"I'm glad to hear it." He watches her boots step closer, tentative. "Everything okay with you?"

She can never just leave him alone, can she. Why does she insist on caring when so many others don't bother?

"Fine, busy with my studies," Rolan deflects. "I've got to get back to the Sundries."

There's a tight pause, and then her voice grows firm. "Look at me."

He curses himself for being unable to disregard her, and for his eyes wanting to take her in despite everything. Slowly, he raises his head to meet her gaze.

Her face is somehow lovelier than he remembered. As he watches, it shatters in shock. He can see her eyes flit from mark to mark as if taking inventory.

"Who did this to you?" She whispers, aghast.

He turns away, unable to hold her gaze. "Believe me, it's nothing that can be helped."

"Rolan–" Her hand extends toward his jaw.

If the thought of her touch thrills him, the thought of being touched by her with pity is unbearable.

"I don't need your help," he spits, slapping the hand away with his own. "And I certainly don't need your damned sympathy!"

The shock and hurt on her face are the last things Rolan sees before he turns on his heel.

The archwizard was not pleased with his late return. That night, Rolan comes home with a large fresh bloom of purple over his left eye.

Lia's already limited patience snaps. She flies into his face with angry tears and threats that she'll march straight into Lorroakan's tower herself with shortsword in hand. Cal stands between them, pleading for peace, eyes wide and sad.

"Enough," Rolan orders them both. "Don't you see we're nothing but hellspawn refugees to these people? My position is the only thing keeping us under this roof, the only thing."

He doesn't stop Lia as she storms out–she didn’t take her sword with her. The door rattles on its hinges as it slams behind her. He pushes wordlessly past Cal to his room, and collapses in a heap against his bed pillows.

His face aches enough that he knows sleep won’t come easy tonight. One hand reaches into the robe at his chest, and he slowly pulls out the small amber stone. His fingers turn it over and over as he closes his eyes once more to escape into imagining.

In some other world, he could've been the one powerful enough to save and protect her. Even be the person who makes her smile.

He would not be the pathetic, broken man that he is. He could feel worthy to return her tender touches with his own, drawing her close to him instead of pushing her away. Feel her lips on his own…her hands circling his shoulders…

Rolan rouses himself to stare down at the topaz shining in his palm. He feels his rotten heart crumple.

He can't remember what made him this way. Bitter, insufferable. He doesn't like the man he is. He wants to be different–he wants things with her to be different.

The stone grows warm in his fist as he clenches it. She crept deep into his heart a long, long time ago. He'll probably never get the chance to tell her, so he might as well admit it to himself.

And even if he did see her again–what chance did he have that she might feel the same? None. She single-handedly managed to improve every part of his life that she touched. What could he possibly offer her?

In this world, precious little.

Lorroakan of Ramazith lay dead on the ground.

Rolan felt a numb hatred as he stood over his former master, eyes frozen wide in the final shock of death. Months from now the expression might have given him cause to laugh. Today, Rolan can only stare mutely.

One more sick megalomaniac who possessed more power than Rolan could have dreamed of wielding…brought down by his insane, insatiable lust for more. Always always more. For what? In the end, he was just another corpse.

It was she who dispatched him, of course. Why wouldn't it be?

After all this time, it was perfectly inevitable that she and her friends would be the ones to fly in and deliver him from yet another tragic end. He felt like he was stuck on a wheel going around and around. He couldn't escape her, either in reality or in his own mind.

Rolan comes to himself and looks down at his robes. Blood splatters his front and soaks up to his elbows; a crust of frost coats his boots, from whose spell he can't remember. All at once an overwhelming tiredness soaks into his bones.

The dream of destiny that had carried him here…had it ever existed, really?

He decides to slip away while she's distracted, speaking urgently to one of her companions. Her plans probably extend far outside this room and beyond, but this is where his path reaches a bloody dead end.

He allows himself one last look at her profile before stepping quietly to the portal. He wants only a bath and the release of sleep.

His feet drag along the streets of the lower city as they carry his body home, ignoring any frightened stares at the state of his clothes. Silent as he can, he slips through the front door and down the hall to his room. Cal and Lia's voices carry from the kitchen. He'll face their questions when he wakes.

In the end, exhaustion and relief overtake him. There will be no more lessons. He falls to bed in a heap and drifts off, still wearing his master's blood on his hands.

In retrospect: letting Lia discover him face-down in his bed covered in dried blood was not the smartest decision Rolan had ever made.

After he'd groggily yelled himself hoarse enough to stop her screams, a sharp pang of conscience drove through him like ice. During the time he thought the two of them were lost to the Shadowlands, he wanted nothing more than to drink himself to an early death.

He never wanted either of them to feel that emptiness. For once, he let Lia hold him tight without protest.

With a few days' rest, and some of Cal's better efforts in the kitchen to date, Rolan's spirits had rallied sufficiently that he felt well enough to leave the house. Even to attempt a cautious return to his place of employment.

To his surprise and distinct confusion, no one at Sorcerous Sundries had a thing to say about Lorroakan's disappearance, or about any possible employee involvement.

If anything, the mood around the shop was noticeably lighter. He even caught Tolna humming a soft little tune to her bookshelves. “The tomes never respected him, you know,” she whispered to Rolan.

And once he got over the bizarre sight of Lorroakan's projection, hovering with a vacant smile behind his former desk, he found a perverse humor in it. Who was the fucking errand boy now?

Most of all, Rolan found himself free to finally do what he came to this place for: study magic. He had no archmage master, but he was intelligent, and he now had free access to all of the tomes in the tower library that Lorroakan had enjoyed dangling under his nose.

These days he preferred to spend his days alone in the upstairs, absorbed in theory and practice. His skills grew, and so did his confidence in himself.

If he also felt drawn to the spot because it was the last place he'd seen her…well, he was far too late on that score. He could've finally confessed the feelings that had long been bursting through his chest.

Instead he had slunk away in silence, too scared to stand in front of her and admit how misguided he'd been all this time. She must think very little of him. She probably didn't think of him at all.

Who knew if she was even still in Baldur's Gate? He searched every face he encountered on the streets, hoping for an answer. It had become a reflex.

At the end of another day, he trudged alone across the twilight square. His hands ached from practicing the gestures for elemental conjurement over and over. One of the Steel Watchers clomped mindlessly past, looking about like Rolan felt.

The thought of going home filled him with weariness. Cal and Lia's cheerful bickering always annoyed him, in an affectionate way. But tonight, he truly felt he might not be up to it.

He felt sad. Lonely.

Glancing up, he found that his legs had carried him to the steps of the Elfsong. A drink…that would soothe his sorrows for an hour or two, at least.

The doors swung open to usher a wave of stimulation over his senses. Warm firelight, the smell of roasting venison, tables packed with conversation and clinking glasses.

He was grateful that many others seemed to have had the same idea this particular night. It made it easier to slip through the crowded taproom unnoticed, catching meaningless slices of gossip and flirtatious banter on his way to the bar.

The surly bartender didn't look overjoyed to be serving a Tiefling. He took Rolan's gold without comment, however, and left him alone with his wine.

As the alcohol spread a welcome relaxation through his limbs, Rolan passed the time by idly watching the groups around him.

A halfling sat alone with shoulders slumped, staring down his tankard as if he wished to drown in it. Across the way, a large bearded man was leaning across the table in open pursuit of his female companion. Clearly getting nowhere, from her expression. But he looked far too drunk to notice.

In front of the great hall fireplace, a pale elf sat in conversation with a pretty dark-haired young woman.

Rolan's brow furrowed; he knew those two. His eyes quickly scanned over the room's faces until he found her.

She was removed a ways from her usual traveling companions, seated at a small table in the far corner. He watched her swirl the cup in her hand idly. Her eyes followed the liquid’s pattern, but the look behind them was leagues away.

For the first time in days, Rolan felt his heavy heart lift. She was exactly the person he wanted to be with tonight. Even if it was just sharing a drink.

This was it, he told himself. He had to speak with her or he'd regret it the rest of his life.

But first–he knocked back a very large mouthful.

His heart pounded in his ears as he drew closer to her. With each step he expected she might look up, piercing him with those eyes that visited most of his dreams. But she remained transfixed by the wine even when he drew up beside her table.

Improvising, he cleared his throat. "Hello."

She glanced up at him in pleasant surprise. "Oh!"

They stared at each other for an awkward silence. Then, somehow, he found himself laughing with her.

"Sorry, it's so strange. I was just thinking about you," she said, her face brightening.

The fact that he occupied any space in her brain would consume him later, but he shoved it aside for the moment.

"Mind if I join you?"

She patted the chair next to her. As he sat, he wondered if the spot had been a tactical choice on her part. Their table had a view of the whole room and both exits, yet the wall behind offered a sense of privacy.

"You're not drinking with your friends tonight," Rolan observed.

"Just taking a little break. We're celebrating another family reunion," she explained, gesturing her glass toward the group around the blazing hearth.

Rolan looked back over his shoulder. He recognized the one-eyed young man with curling horns, but not the older one whose hand was clasped on his shoulder. Quite clearly father and son to anyone with eyes.

"I'm glad for them," Rolan said. To his surprise, he found he truly meant it. The Absolute had ripped apart so many families in so many ways, including his, leaving the lower streets flooded with the hopeless and broken and displaced. He counted himself and his siblings incredibly lucky, and it heartened him to see another happy scene among so much misery.

“You know–” She eyed him curiously. "I was hoping I’d see you. You ran off before we could talk that day."

He looked down at his drink. "I know. I've regretted it since then. At the time, it was just…a lot to take in."

Her eyes narrowed, but not at him. "I hope you don't mind me saying, but that man can burn in Avernus for all I care. For what he did to you. For what he tried to do to Aylin."

Rolan recalled the runic circle in Lorroakan's library, the one whose mysterious power had at first awed and enthralled him. And then he'd seen the aasimar with the shining wings, and watched the demented hunger in Lorroakan's eyes, and the horrible realization had run through him like a sickness.

"Lorroakan was a monster," he agreed. "I just wish I'd seen it sooner. Or even found the strength to open my own eyes."

He felt a hand rest on his forearm.

"I saw what you went through to get here,” she said. “It’s natural that you thought you had to see it all through, no matter what.”

Rolan said nothing for a while, just let her kindness soothe into his chest like a balm.

“On the bright side,” he added suddenly, “He did keep an excellent library. I’ve learned more from one of his books than I ever did from him.”

“That’s because you’re a proper talented wizard,” she laughed. “And he was an idiot.”

“A dead idiot.”

“To that,” she said with a lift of her cup, and they both drank. He noticed she used her free hand, not moving the one that laid on his arm.

When he caught her eye after, she was watching him with a smile. "You look so well, Rolan."

He knew what she meant. The last time she saw him, his face had been dappled in marks and bruises from Lorroakan's brutal instruction, with more that she couldn't see under his robes.

Now, the last mark across his cheekbone had faded almost to nothing. He hoped it would take the memories of the meaningless pain he'd endured along with it.

"Thank you," he said simply. "So do you."

He meant it; he realized now that he'd only ever seen her dressed for combat. Tonight she wore soft hide pants tucked into her hunting boots, a linen shirt half unlaced at her collarbones. It softened her. Close beside him and bathed in firelight, she set his heart racing again.

Perhaps it was her closeness or her touch that gave him the courage, or perhaps it was just the wine. He shifted his arm slightly to capture her hand in his.

"No one else has ever shown me the kindness you have. Not even Cal and Lia, though I do love them."

She watched him speak in silence, and he gazed back at her, as if the answers to everything might be found in her face.

"I don't understand you,” he said earnestly. “Why you've kept giving me chances. You've been so much more generous with me than I deserve. I've insulted you, yelled at you, I've been an absolute unbearable prick–"

Before he could think, she leaned in to silence him with her lips.

The kiss lasted forever and only a second all at once. Rolan closed his eyes, breathing in the faint smell of lavender on her skin.

Before he was anywhere near ready, she gently pulled away.

"Because," she murmured, "you're a good man, Rolan. And I like you." Her words, the lingering taste of her on his lips, they made his head spin. He felt like he was watching the door to a new world swing open before his eyes.

Before anything else, Rolan had to kiss her again. He released her hand to smooth the hair back from her face, watching the way she tilted into his touch, and gently guided her toward him.

It was deeper this time; he tasted the heady wine on her mouth, her breath a soft tickle against his cheek. As his fingers tangled her hair, he felt her hand wind sweetly over his shoulder, holding on to him.

A wet stripe flashed across his lips. His mouth gasped open in surprise, allowing her tongue to softly meet his, then draw slowly over his pointed teeth.

The unexpected sensations brought his mind back to reality, and to the fact that they were in a public place. With effort, he wrenched himself out of the kiss. They breathed against each other for a moment.

"I've got a room upstairs," she murmured. "If you want to?" Her cheeks were flushed from firelight and wine, and possibly even from him.

Whether or not he wanted to was no question: her words sent a fervent rush of blood to his groin. But first, he mustered enough control to hold her back from him for a moment. Her lips were parted in question.

"I adore you," he said. "I think I have for a long time. It's–very important to me that you know that. Before anything else." Even if the anything else was a dream that had kept him awake more nights than he could count.

Her soft hand cupped his cheek; he thought he might combust if she didn't say something. "Thank Gods," she laughed breathily. "I swore you hated me for a while there."

"I had no idea what to do with my feelings for you, I was a fucking idiot." It was all tumbling out of him now. He opened his mouth to continue, but her fingertips went to his lips.

"Rolan–" Her voice was full of relief, and he was charmed to see the blush across her face deepen. "I feel the same way. I really, really like you."

His rotten heart could have flipped with joy.

“Now.” She cocked her head askance, and he felt her fingers twine with his. "Make it up to me?"

Yes. Please, please, yes. He nodded in a daze, reeling like he'd sustained a blow to the head. All he could feel was the elation and anxiety swirling around and around in his stomach as he followed her toward the staircase, let her lead him by the hand like a lovesick idiot.

As they passed her companions he pointedly averted his eyes; he couldn't afford to lose any of the nerve building inside him. He'd need every bit of it in a moment.

The dark staircase seemed to ascend forever. Part of him wanted it to–he was no virgin, but the hand she held tight was shaking with anxiety. He wanted to make this perfect.

Overthinking proved pointless. The moment the heavy door closed behind them, he found himself pinned against it with a thud by the length of her body.

His involuntary groan was lost in their kiss. She was everywhere around him at once: hands pinning his shoulders back against the wood, hips grinding into his thigh with no pretense, her tongue pressing against his lips and slipping past his teeth to taste him. She moaned against his mouth, and the sound reverberated from his head to his feet.

His erection was practically instantaneous. He hooked his thumbs over her hip bones, sharp nails finding purchase in her pants, and rolled himself against the yielding softness between her legs.

Whatever release the pressure provided multiplied it tenfold. Desire coursed through him, burning in his veins hotter than he thought possible.

The maneuver brought an approving hum from her throat, however. Encouraged, he ground her into him again, and again, as slowly as his body could be convinced to go.

Her hands released his shoulders to rake upward through his hair, pulling his face toward her.

Pulling him deeper into the room, he realized. He stumbled slightly against something; tasting her lips was infinitely more important than breaking the kiss to look where he was going. He trusted her lead, impatient to reach whatever destination she had in mind so he could freely explore her.

Their connected bodies bumped up against the edge of something soft. She pulled away, and his immediate disappointment rapidly turned around as he felt her fingers fumbling with the clasps of his robe. He guided her hands, struggling at the same time to kick off one boot and then the other.

As his robes pooled on the floor, her palms pressed him away for a moment.

Rolan stood frozen and panting in his trousers. She licked her kiss-swollen lips as she looked over his bare shoulders, his chest. When her eyes reached the obvious hardness straining in his pants, she let out a delicious sound.

Rolan's hands grabbed for her of their own volition. They slipped under the hem of her shirt, against the bare skin of her waist, and wrenched the garment up over her head in one motion.

To look at her directly was almost too much–he felt love and desire churning together inside of him. "Beautiful," was all he could say.

He buried his face in her shoulder instead, fang-like teeth brushing over her skin as he left a trail of kisses along the curve of her neck. She let out a gasp when his hand gently stroked her breast.

"You're so warm," she murmured into his hair. To him, she was pleasantly cool; he shivered when her fingers traced the small set of ridges that ran from his collarbone to his sternum.

But he needed more of her. He hooked both thumbs over her waistband and tugged ineffectually. She quickly took over, shucking them off with a shimmying motion.

The sight of her bare, for him, was almost enough to make Rolan come then and there. He reached out to her hips to steady himself. She was so much more divine than anything his paltry imagination could have conjured.

Through his blazing arousal, he was barely aware of the hands unlacing his pants until she tugged them down to finally let his cock spring free.

A sigh of relief escaped him. He watched her take him in, her eyes half-lidded with arousal.

"You're incredible," she whispered. Then her arms slid around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss.

He tried to concentrate on her mouth, but the way his cock brushed and nudged against her skin every time she moved was taking over his brain.

With a motion of her hips, she captured his length between her thighs and rocked forward and back, sliding her dripping wet center over his cock. The revelation of her own state of desire sent his mind spiraling with want.

Rolan let out what could only be called a whimper. He clutched her to him, capturing her bottom lip between his teeth as firmly as he dared, as if she might suddenly disappear and leave him in an aching pile.

She made a pleased sound, then gave his shoulders a push. With his pants still around his thighs, he lost his balance–knees buckled as he fell backwards onto the mattress behind them.

He propped himself up on his elbows just in time to see her kneel on the floor in front of him. Her two hands pushed his knees apart, as far as the straining fabric would allow–

Rolan tried and failed to breathe normally, heart pounding in his ears. It felt like time was slowing to a crawl. Her eyes glanced from his face to the stiff erection between them. A droplet of moisture shone at its tip.

"Can I–?" She was asking him for permission, hands poised on his thighs, her expression heady with arousal.

"Anything," Rolan swore, and he meant it. She could do whatever the fuck she wanted to him right now. Before he could prepare himself, her mouth closed wetly around his tip.

Truly, nothing could have readied him. He let out a gasp–his head dropped back as his hips rose involuntarily to seek more of her soft, cool mouth.

He had scarcely adjusted before she took him in further, sliding her tongue down along his length to his very base–then slowly, achingly slowly, back up again.

He heard the rip of fabric as his nails gripped the bedding. He gathered the will to raise his head up to look.

Rolan was mesmerized by the sight of her lips wrapped around taught red skin, his length disappearing into her mouth and returning wet with saliva. She was working him over almost reverently slow, eyes closed as if tasting him.

Tasting herself on him. His cock twitched inside her mouth at the realization. She glanced up at him, releasing him from her lips with a soft, wet pop.

He could have groaned at the loss of her. Instead, he used the moment to work off his constraining pants and toss them away. Before she could reach for him again, Rolan pulled her up and onto his lap.

Her knees sank into the bed on either side as she straddled him, but she kept herself hovering well above him without contact. He pushed aside the ache between his legs to focus on more important things.

He leaned forward to press a soft kiss between her breasts, allowed his mouth to explore. She sighed with pleasure as he alternately licked and kissed across each curve, then drew sharp breath as his teeth sucked at the soft flesh under one breast.

Her hands, at first resting on his shoulders, flew to grab two fistfuls of his hair. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine.

Rolan pulled away for a moment for admire the purple mark blooming on her breast. He glanced up as though looking for approval. She gave it, tugging his hair to tilt his face into a waiting kiss.

Ever so carefully…mindful of his fingertips, he placed the flat of his palm on the heat between her legs.

“Rolan–” she gasped, breaking away.

The sound of his own name had never been dearer to him. He was run through with a thrill, and a fervent desire to do whatever it took to make her say it again.

He massaged gentle circles into her, the base of his palm pressing against her clit in slow rhythm. Her wetness coated him with each stroke. She quaked under his touch, eyelashes fluttering, and his other arm circled her back to support her. He felt her lean against him without a second thought. Trusting completely.

“I can’t believe I have you,” he heard his voice say, perhaps to himself.

As he spoke he felt the core of her tightening under his hand. Abruptly, her fingers closed around his wrist to still his ministrations. He froze, immediately afraid he had scratched her somehow. But her face shone with nothing but desire for him.

"On your back," she directed.

Rolan nearly pinched his tail under himself in his haste to obey. He swept his legs out from between hers and stretched out as she climbed over to straddle him.

Now they were finally here, she wasted no time leaving space between them. Her hips rolled down onto him and drew the wet folds of her center across his tip. His entire length throbbed at the blessed return of her touch, the head of his cock burning against her.

Smoothly, simply, she lowered herself onto him.

The shuddering exhale from his lips met against her moan of relief. Rolan willed himself to keep his eyes on hers, even as her inviting walls gripped him, even as he practically felt his pupils dilate with want. Her features relaxed into a state of pure, unadulterated satisfaction.

Then she started to move her hips.

She pushed her palms against his chest for leverage, riding his cock at a steady pace that felt entirely too slow. Whatever will he had to follow her lead was immediately tested; he was overcome with the need to touch her everywhere at once.

Care forgotten, he gripped the soft flesh of her back with his fingertips. She cried out softly as his nails dragged from her shoulders to the base of her hips, but he felt her walls clench around him in response. His tail curled up and around her waist of its own volition, holding her as she took him in further with each bounce of her hips.

She gasped and fell over him, hands braced on either side. She was already losing control. He felt his own release closing in, used the new angle of her hips to thrust up into her.

“Oh, Gods, yes–” Her mouth dropped open. She moved her hips back with each of his thrusts to take him more deeply.

Rolan thought he might shatter apart. Waves of searing desire swept harder and harder through him. She took him so perfectly, his cock almost painfully gripped by her tightening walls, so wet and lush and sweet and for him–

A hand flew up to the back of her neck to grasp and to pull her down so he could taste her as he came. Lips crashed together frantically as the pace of their bodies started coming apart at the seams.

In one bright concentrated moment, she shook and trembled violently into him as she grasped for whatever part of him she could reach. He managed one last stuttering thrust before his climax was ripped from him by her own, spilling inside of her clenching center, hurling him outside himself and into the wide Astral plane.

They shuddered against each others' bodies as white-hot waves receded outward farther and farther. Her head dropped to his shoulder as though she'd lost all muscle control.

He felt her slowing breaths fan out across his chest, and he rested a hand on the back of her head to keep her there.

As Rolan stared up at the wood-paneled ceiling above them, something cold dripped down at the base of him. He realized he was still inside of her. He swung his free arm over the side of the bed–still woozy enough from his climax that he nearly slid head-first to the floor–and snatched up his rumpled robes to clean them both.

She rolled off him then and cuddled up on her side to watch him. He mirrored her pose, adjusting against the pillows to make a spot for his horns. One of her fingers found the point of his ear and began tracing.

“How do you feel?” She asked.

Rolan sighed deeply. “Happy.” He could cast around for another dozen words, but he’d rather take her in. He smoothed a hand up and down along the curve of her side.

“So do I.” She leaned over to spread light kisses along his lips, then his jaw and cheek. His tail brushed against her leg in an idle caress.

She glanced down. “I didn’t actually know about…that.”

“Am I your first Tiefling?” He teased, though the thought genuinely pleased him.

“First and last,” she replied. The words were instantly locked away in his chest.

She gave a little shiver then, tucking her body against his warmth. He dug the covers up over themselves and wrapped her up tight with his arms and legs. The simple feeling of holding her brought him a deep sense of calm.

“I love this, Rolan.” Her lips moved against the hollow at the base of his neck. “I wish I could take tonight and carry it with me everywhere.”

Something sparked in him at her words. He opened his eyes and reluctantly released her to feel around the floor at the floor for his stained robe.

"What are you doing over there?" She lifted her head curiously to peer over the bedside.

"Just need to find something." He rummaged through his layers of discarded clothing before finally, his knuckle grazed something hard.

He slid back up under the covers beside her. She propped herself up against him, resting a palm on his chest with an expectant look.

He held out his thumb and index finger. Between them, an amber stone glinted in the dim light.

Her mouth fell open in recognition. For one second, he was afraid she might cry.

Then she buried her head in the crook of his neck, wrapping both arms tight around him. "I knew you were a darling all along."

#blowjobs and self esteem #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #rolan x tav #bg3 fic #bg3 spoilers #i can't be trusted with this man apparently

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skz317cb97 · 11 months

Text

Drunk Confessions pt 1

Chan x Female reader

Word count: 2.1K

Synopsis: What will Chan do with you when you stroll into your apartment late and extremely drunk?

A/N: 18+ ONLY! Welcome to part one of a new series I'm calling Drunk Confessions. One for each member a story of someone drunkenly confessing their love for another. Keep an eye out for polls that I'll be posting for the next in line! If you like this part give it a reblog, comment, like, hit up my ask box, love to hear from you guys! Warnings and smut below the cut!

Warnings: 18 + ONLY MDNI! Cursing/strong language, mentions of drinking alcohol/over drinking/getting drunk, oral (f reciveing), unprotected piv sex (please use condoms), cream pie. I think that's everything but if I missed something please let me know and I'll add it asap!

You stumbled into your shared apartment drunk. You had been out with some girlfriends for a bachelorette party and you had just been dropped at the door of your apartment building. Somehow you managed to make your way up the sixteen floors to the apartment you shared with Chan. Your best friend and the man you secretly were head over heels in love with. You tried to be as quiet as possible so naturally you were like a bull in a China shop. Chan came out of his room rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Baby girl is that you.” You giggled and slapped your hand over your mouth.

“Tsk. Yes. Sowwy Channie I didnmean to wake youuu.” Your words slurred out of you and you stumbled a little.

“Hey are you okay?” Chan hurried forward a bit to help keep you upright instead of the end table. You giggled again and your heart pounded. How could you be even more in love with someone just because you were a little drunk. Okay maybe a bit more than a little.

“Here let’s get you to bed.” You protested. You tried to prove you were okay enough to walk without him and your first step you rolled your ankle and started to go down. Chan got you before you made it to the floor but you had hurt your ankle. You took your heels off and tried walking on it again.

“I’mokay Channie jus alil drunk I think.” Chan could smell the sweet scent of the lemon drops you had drank all night. He tried not to think about how your lips were probably sweet from them as well. When you left earlier and Chan saw how great you looked he worried you might not be home later.

He couldn’t blame any guy that approached you that night. The black sparkly body con dress you were wearing hugged each of your curves perfectly. Your long legs ended with a pair of red heels. Your hair was up, your neck on display but now in your drunken state it had fallen a bit, whisps laying on your neck and around your face, framing your beauty.

You never over did it in the makeup department but you had gone bold for the evening with winged liner and red lips. You had wiped off the lipstick in the limo on the way home and your eyeliner was only a little smudged.

You were a drunken angel and Chan wondered how he could be even more in love with someone just because they were a little drunk. Okay maybe a bit more than a little.

“OW!” Chan threw your arm around his broad shoulders and you couldn’t help but squeeze the muscle you held onto now. He cleared his throat and sat you down on the couch then sat down on the table across from you.

“Let me see.” You stretched your leg out and put your foot in his lap.

“Okay Channie.” You said with a lilt to your voice. Chan grabbed your ankle and goosebumps rose all over your skin.

“Cold?” Chan asked when he noticed you shiver.

“No I...OW!” He hissed and apologized.

“Sorry sorry! I think you just twisted it a little.“ You pouted. You were starting to get tired and whiney.

“Will you take care of me Channie? I can’t walk...” He sighed.

“Of course I will baby girl. Come on let’s get you into some jammies and into to your bed.” You shook your head as he helped you up.

“What!?” You drug your finger down the side of his face tracing his cheekbone and jaw line.

“Wanna sleep in yours with you.” Chan’s head popped up quickly. You had never said or done anything like that before.

Sure you fell asleep on the couch together a time or two, maybe one of those times the two of you woke up wrapped up with your arms around each other, but you’ve never slept in the other’s beds before. Chan always felt like it was a risky boundary to break with how he felt about you.

Sober you had the same thought process but drunk you wanted to be next to Chan’s warm body, to hug him close while you slept off the alcohol in your system.

“Wanna sleep with you tonight Channie. Please?” You rested your head on his shoulder, your eyes blinking up at him sleepily.

“Uh... well... I mean...” You sniffled and Chan was getting whiplash from the mood swings you had when drunk. Silly, sleepy, flirty, sad. He’d never seen you quite this drunk before.

“You don’t like me.” You started to cry and Chan shushed you.

“WHOA! WAIT! Let me get you a shirt!” You kept your balance holding onto Chan’s desk as you stood there in your bra and panties waiting for him to pull out and toss you a shirt from his dresser. He kept his eyes cast down as he went to hand you the shirt.

“Shhh shh I didn’t say that now come on I just... wasn’t sure if it was a good idea with you being drunk. If you want to sleep in my bed that’s fine okay. Please don’t cry.” He wiped the tears from your face.

Chan led you to the bathroom and let you wash up and brush your teeth before leading you to his room. As soon as his door was closed you started stripping off your dress.

“You don’t think I’m pretty?” You sniffled again and Chan pressed his fingers into his eyes trying to keep his composure.

“You know I think you’re pretty y/n but you should put on the shirt. You’re drunk.” You sighed and put on the shirt. When Chan put an arm around you to help you to bed you wrapped both of yours around him and tried to kiss him.

“What are you doing y/n?!” You leaned in again and he stopped you again.

“I love you Channie don’t you know that? I love you and I want you.” You leaned in trying to kiss him another time and he gently stopped you this time.

“I love you too y/n but you’re drunk. Let’s talk about this tomorrow when you’re sober.” You gripped at his cut off shirt he wore trying to lift it up and off and he stopped you again.

“Look if you don’t behave I’ll put you to bed and sleep on the couch.” Your eyes got big and glassy again.

“I’msorry. ‘M too drunk. I’ll be good.” He smoothed your hair down.

“Thank you. Come on lets get to bed.” Finally you stopped and let Chan help you to bed. You crawled in and he couldn’t help but notice your cute panties peeking from under his shirt. He got in after you and as soon as his body was laid next to yours you rolled over and held onto his arm. Chan looked down at you smiling.

“Good night baby girl.” You fell asleep so quickly you didn’t even hear him say good night. The next morning you woke up burning up. You were undercovers and had a warm body wrapped around yours. When you stirred it woke up the human furnace clinging to you.

“You up?” The person sized ball of lava asking you was Chan. Then the night before came rushing back into your memory. Oh god!

“Uh yea.” Chan stretched out, now face to face with you in bed.

“Sober?” You nodded.

“Mhmm.” Chan looked at you for a long moment.

“Did you mean it?” You didn’t know what he meant for half a second and then remembered your confession the night before. You nodded again but couldn’t bring yourself to look into his eyes.

“Do you want to stop?” Chan looked at you seriously. You sat up a little.

“Yes.” Suddenly Chan’s lips were softly pressed against yours. You flinched then melted into the kiss. Chan wrapped his arms around you pulling you close so your bodies were touching. His tongue traced along your bottom lip and you opened your mouth allowing him to dip his tongue in.

You made out laying in his bed together for what felt like forever. Just lips and tongues and teeth, hands roaming, groping, squeezing. Chan pulled away for a moment and you took the opportunity to get a full breath of air.

“Do you want to?” Chan thought for a moment before speaking.

“I want to nail you to my bed and make you scream my name.” Your jaw dropped and you slapped his shoulder.

“Channie! You thought before speaking and that’s what you say.” He laughed and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“I was just being honest. If you want to stop we’re stopping but if you don’t then I’d like to do that second thing I said.” You wrapped your arms around Chan again pulling him down and pecking his full lips.

“Well then...” You pressed your lips to his ear.

“Holy fuck Chan! Feral much?” You laughed but stopped when his face was hovering over your throbbing cunt.

“Make me scream for you baby.” Chan growled and attacked your neck with kisses and bites, he lifted up and quickly whipped yours and his shirts off before going back and to nibbling down your neck and shoulder while you gripped his strong arms and then his hair as his kisses peppered down your chest.

He stopped and ripped your bra open from the front, then practically shredded those cute panties, tearing them off you as well.

“I really want to eat your pussy...” He was entranced by you.

“Chan oh my god! Fuck fuckfuckfuck!” You pulled his curls tightly as you melted on his tongue for a second time. He kissed your thighs, your tummy and breasts, up your shoulder and neck, he kissed your lips while you laid there completely fucked out already.

“God Channie you keep saying the filthiest things fuck! Yes please!” He smirked at you and then his head was buried between your legs savoring every inch of you. You gripped his hair and your hips jerked up.

Chan’s hands spread across your tummy and held you down as he continued to absolutely feast upon you. Your toes curled when he pushed you over the edge and your feet dug into the mattress when he didn’t stop. Hell bent on giving you another orgasm quickly.

“You good?” He checked in with you.

“So fucking good.” He kissed you again and you deepened it. You grabbed his cock and guided it towards your soaked entrance.

“Need you inside me please.” Chan would never deny such a request from you. He pushed his tip inside you and slowly sank in deeper until you took all of him.

“FUCKING HELL! Tight!” You hummed and moaned.

“So big! God damn Channie can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me.” he laughed a little.

“It’s yours now baby girl.” You clenched and he felt every bit of it.

“You like that huh? You like knowing I’m yours now?” Clenched again and moaned. He pulled out and pushed back into you.

“Yours baby girl. I’m all yours.” You moaned out louder when he thrusted harder.

“And you’re mine too.”

“OH FUCK YES! I’m yours Channie!” At your declaration Chan started fucking you hard. He loved hearing it just as much as you did. You held onto his broad shoulders as he did exactly what he said he wanted to, nail you to his bed.

“ChannieChannieCHANNIE FUCK!!!!” You gripped him tightly as you came around his cock screaming his name like your neighbors didn’t exist. He slowly rocked his hips into you as you came down from your mind numbing orgasm, kissing your cheeks and nose making you laugh. You pushed his unruly curls away from his face.

“Cum for me Chan.” You moved your hips urging him to chase his own high now. His hips snapped into you faster and he felt so good inside you it wasn’t long before Chan was coming, filling you with that warmth that radiated from him.

“Such a good girl. Fuuuucking hell! So good to me.” He leaned in and kissed you sweetly as he filled you then laid down next to you, catching his breath. After a minute he looked over at you smiling ear to ear, his eyes disappearing the bigger his smile grew. He pulled you close and kissed the side of your head.

“You can have first shower if you want.” You pouted.

“I thought we could take one together?” Chan looked down at you.

“Yea?” You nodded.

“Whatever you want. Together it is baby girl.”

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uglypastels · 1 year

Text

Caught Me Slippin' | escort!eddie au

(a/n) yes, this fic is based on the Kiss Quotient, and, therefore also Pretty Woman. Thanks to everyone who voted on the poll for me to work on this fic. I had a lot of fun with it! So, even though its a bit all over the place, haha, I hope you still like it.

If you want to see more of this fic, please send an ask and we can chat about it but Do Not Ask For Part 2. This is a One Shot.

Summary: [modern!au] feeling insecure about your skills in bed, you decide to find someone who could help you learn. Except, when the guy actually shows up, a mistake seems to have occurred. Fortunately, you're both quite adaptable (or, at least, you try to be), and the night quickly takes off into unexpected territories.

Word count: 13.2k

Warnings: SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY. dual POV. rich!female!reader. shorter than Eddie. self-consciousness. slight miscommunication - quickly resolved. swearing. drinking. awkwardness. [mention of infidelity, side characters]. non-monogamous relationship. smut. male sex work (obviously). slight dom! Eddie. inexperienced!reader. mentions of bdsm- bondage, sadomasochism. nipple piercings. nipple play. fingering. oral (f receiving). light pussy slapping. Eddie has an innocence kink. I'm probably not representing sex work 100% accurately, but this is [fan]fiction. You should always take it with a grain of salt. + apparently, kind of angsty, idk i guess I'm dead inside.

if you think I'm missing any warnings, please let me know, and I'll add them. if you do not like the sound of any of these- then this is not for you. do not read.

All the errors left unlearned, oh

But I am the luckiest guy

Not the loneliest guy in the world

- David Bowie, The Loneliest Guy

What the hell were you doing?

Sitting at a bar, which was mistake number two. One of many, for that matter. The third was ordering a drink you knew you wouldn’t drink but had picked when panic swooped over you as the bartender walked up. The red liquid looked quite pretty, but you could smell the alcohol the second the girl put the glass in front of you. An attempt at a sip was made, and you brought it to your lips, but the bitterness overwhelmed you.

There was one thing you had gotten right, and that was at least picking a bar that wasn’t crowded. The music played at just the right volume, and people kept to themselves, to their booths and their tables. You tried to let your mind wander off, not to overthink– that would only cause more anxiety– but it always went back to what the people around you were talking about. You never meant to be nosy, and you never butted in… but it was entertaining what random strangers had to say to each other.

— You’re shitting me.

— No, I’m serious. Sarah told me herself. She walked in, and there he was, fucking their pool boy.

The table behind you erupted in a chorus of gasps.

— Poor Sarah, though.

— Yeah, well, she had been sleeping with her yoga instructor.

How were people so comfortable talking about such things in public? Where everyone could listen in? You almost felt bad for this Sarah that her complicated marriage was being shared with the entirety of this small bar, surely then retold all across the city.

You glanced around you, side to side. The bar counter was quite long, with enough space for eight barstools to stand next to each other. Besides yours, four more were occupied. Having opted for the last chair, you were worried about someone sitting on one of your neighbouring chairs, but luck had been in your favour.

That is, until he showed up.

Your first, and probably, the biggest mistake that you made that night.

♤

From the second that Eddie sat down beside her, he could tell something was wrong. He always could with such things. As well as assume what might have been the cause of the problem.

Her eyes widened, nearly doubled in size, as he sat down next to her. He couldn’t have made a mistake; she had sent what she would look like and be wearing, and the description was accurate. She should have known what Eddie would look like as well; that’s basically what the whole selection was based on, look, and yet… the way she stared at him… he had the urge to wave his hand in front of her to make sure she wasn’t going into shock.

‘Hey,’ instead, he opted for a kind smile as he leaned against the bar, asking for a quick confirmation of her name, and took a moment to take her in properly while she defrosted and returned to reality. She was cute, to his surprise, definitely not the type he would usually be coming across these nights. Pretty and young, but mostly, shy. The bar was definitely not in her comfort zone, and he had picked up on that the second he noticed het sitting there, back stiff in nerves, drink untouched except for the little straw she stirred around in circles mindlessly. At first, he thought, maybe it’s all an act. The shy and naive girl next door, he was into it, but no. Now he knew better; she was terrified.

A few seconds later, when his eyes moved back up to her face, she spoke her first words.

‘Who are you?’

♤

There had been a mistake. There must have been. Whoever the guy sitting next to you was, he was not the guy you had paid for.

Jesus that sounded so stupid. How could you have been so dumb thinking it was a good idea to hire a guy for the night. As if that would make you feel better, make all your problems disappear.

The man blinked in confusion. Your reaction had clearly been a surprise. As he stumbled over his words, you took him in quickly.

Long brown hair fell over his shoulders in messy waves. He had layered up, but not for practicality. You couldn’t see how the leather jacket or the denim vest over a thin t-shirt would help him against the evening cold, not to mention his ribbed jeans. Overall he looked like he had been directly cut out of an 80s rock magazine. Sure, some women must be into that kind of look; you couldn’t even deny he was pretty attractive, but it was not what you had wanted. Not for now. You needed something simple. Comfortable. Easy.

Those large rings and metal chains were most definitely not comfortable. Or simple. Or easy.

Oh god.

♤

‘I’m Eddie,’ he stated, hoping it would clear something up, but her confused stare didn’t falter. ‘Didn’t you book…’ Eddie knew all the people around him were poking their noses into everyone’s business, so he tried to pick his words wisely, ‘... the appointment?’ Fuck, did he walk up to the wrong girl? He knew it would have been too good to be true to get an actual girl his age. People always lied on these forms. He was ready to apologise and walk away, but she answered.

‘I did.’ Her eyes wavered again over him. ‘But not you. There must have been some kind of mistake, I–’

‘Is everything good here?’ The bartender walked up, towel across her shoulder, her piercing blue eyes digging right through Eddie. Her question had been directed at the girl, and she nodded quickly.

‘All good, just a little misunderstanding.’

‘Alright then,’ The bartender sent Eddie another suspicious look before heading to the other side of the counter to take another order. This was fucking fantastic. Yeah, just great.

♤

‘Ok, so who did you think you were meeting?’ Eddie asked when the woman behind the bar walked away, slightly backing away from you, letting his shoulders fall.

You tried to remember the name of the guy who caught your attention last evening. Would the name mean anything to Eddie? You didn’t expect all these guys to hang around together...

‘Shit, yeah, ok, that makes sense.’ You could see all the puzzle pieces coming together behind his eyes. ‘He’s out on a date tonight as well. They must have sent us each other’s… wait,’ he quickly grabbed his phone.

♤

Eddie searched through his emails. It didn’t take long to ignore the few spam messages he had gotten since this morning. And there it was. The booking confirmation he had received. Having gotten them so often, he had read it on autopilot, not even realising that his own name was missing. All he had needed, he thought, was his client’s information. But there it was, literally the first two words of the email: Dear Steve…

Oh, the office would have a field day with this.

But some of him also could not wait to ask Steve how his date went.

♤

‘Yeah, they fucked it up,’ after a few seconds, Eddie had turned his phone around to show you an email. Even though you only needed the first two words to understand the mistake that occurred, you took the time to read as much of it as possible to make sure it was real. From what you could tell, it seemed legit. Just what business operated solemnly through emails… and apparently, not even automated ones.

‘I’m really sorry for the inconvenience,’ Eddie apologised as he pulled his phone back and placed it into his pocket. ‘I can call the office and get you a refund. I promise you that this is usually nothing of the standard we usually operate at.’ You appreciated his professionalism. Despite never thinking you were that judgemental, perhaps you had actually judged him a bit too harshly at first glance. And he was quite attractive…

‘No, wait,’ you stopped him before he could dial the number of his boss, or whoever was in charge. ‘Uhm… did your… friend… send you something? About his date?’ Steve was now, of course, also on the wrong job. Eddie looked up at you for a second, before glancing down again at his phone to check his notifications.

‘No, haven’t heard anything from him. I guess the other person didn’t seem to care which one of us they got.’ he chuckled, which surprised you. Did other people not care about who they slept with? You get to pick a person for a reason, don’t you?

‘I don’t need a refund.’ You stated after a short moment. Eddie glanced up once more.

‘Are you sure? It’s a lot of money–’

‘No, I mean, I would like to continue the night… with you.’ This was, for sure, getting out of your comfort zone, right? Being adventurous, getting a life, all that shit your friends nagged you about for years. Eddie smiled with the corner of his mouth.

‘Alright then, would you like to get out of here?’

‘Yes, please,’ you let out a sigh of relief. Thankfully, the volume in the space picked up quite a lot as more people entered, drowning out your conversation, but it was getting a bit too much for you. ‘Just… one minute.’ you stood up, heading to the bathroom, but Eddie called your attention for one more second.

‘You forgot your purse.’ he looked down at the ground where your bag was lying. You gave him an awkward smile and picked it up before making your way to the back of the bar.

Closing the stall door behind you, you wished for some decent internet; thankfully, it wasn’t the worst. You didn’t bother trying to be quick about it. There was no doubt in your mind that he knew you were looking him up online. With shaking hands, you typed in the name of the agency where you had found Steve. They had a list of all their “models”, as they nicely labelled them, and you scrolled through them. There was the guy you had planned on spending the night with. You had picked him because he looked sweet, and hot, obviously, but with enough cockiness thrown in the mix to tell you he knew what he was doing. And the little sales pitch the website had written up for him to sell the fantasy worked well. You didn’t bother rereading it now, but it was something to do with “the sweet jock that knows how to take care of his girl”. It was extremely cheesy, you were more than aware of that, but cheesy was good. It was safe.

Your friends would have probably laughed at you.

They probably would have picked out a guy like Eddie.

Speaking of the guy waiting for you at the bar, you found his profile. First thing first, the picture. That was definitely him; you recognised the unruly dark hair and brown eyes. He had several photos posted in his profile, like most of the men on the website, and they were of semi-professional quality: self-taken, but with a very nice camera and lighting. He had put effort into his presentation. First, there was the portrait, showing his handsome face, shirtless but cropped to the shoulder, revealing enough of the silver chain around his neck but not showing what was actually hanging off it.

The following picture was a full-body pose, with clothes on that were not significantly different from the ones he was wearing now. No denim vest, but a different leather jacket on top of a black shirt. Dark denim jeans with a belt, buckled by what looked like to be steel handcuffs… had he been wearing that tonight as well?

Your throat tightened up as you swiped to the next post, which was, of course, the obligatory nude. All the “models” had to have them, since that was basically what people paid for. If it wasn’t for the fact that the site saw itself as one of the “classier” agencies out there, the naked pictures would have been the only ones available. You, for one, appreciated the variety.

Eddie was posed on a bed, on his knees. With one hand in his hair, and the other over his thigh, he didn’t leave anything to the imagination. Despite not even looking at the camera, the smug smile on his face told you he knew exactly what he was doing. He got you looking, and he knew you liked it. Yet, what you couldn’t stop looking at were the tattoos that covered his pale skin. Dozens of them, at least, varying in size and style, covering most of his arms, upper legs, ribs…

You scrolled on, remembering he was still waiting for you outside, but the next picture didn’t make anything better.

It had been a session shot. You had stumbled across similar ones on your initial look at the website. The men posing out the act of some kind of intercourse. Different positions, different actions, whatever described their style in the profession. For Eddie, that included the shot of a naked woman in bed, the same bed in which he had taken the previous picture. Her limbs were spread apart, tied to the bed corners. Her eyes were covered with a black and white bandana, and the rest of the features tightened in bliss as Eddie was positioned between her legs. His mouth was right at her core. If that wasn’t enough, he had put some props up on display next to the woman; some extra handcuffs, a vibrator and what you assumed to be a flogger.

What the hell were you getting yourself into?

♤

She returned after a few minutes, and Eddie could immediately tell his assumption was right. The poor thing couldn’t look him in the face. She sat back down on the barstool, holding onto her purse, lip between her teeth and eyes on anything but him. Yeah, she had looked him up.

In all honesty, he thought it was a good thing. He didn’t care for people who didn’t do their research into things. Saying that, as quite a spontaneous person, you couldn’t jump into things head first all the time. Sometimes, it was important to test the waters. Make sure there were no sharks swimming around.

‘I paid for your drink,’ Eddie remembered. She looked at him, stunned.

‘Oh, you really didn’t have to.’ Did she seem apologetic?

‘Please, its the least I can do, for, you know, being the wrong guy and all.’ He smiled, hoping she would return the favour. The corner of her mouth curved up the smallest amount, still quite unsure of the situation.

‘Really, I–’ she was ready to get her wallet, most likely pay him back, but Eddie stopped her by placing his hand over hers. That made her freeze, look back up at him. Eddie felt two pairs of eyes on him. Hers, and the bartender behind him, most definitely reassessing the whole situation. Everything about this evening was going to shit. He could probably wave his perfect 5-star rating goodbye, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but he for sure as hell was not going to get put on any registers tonight. However, trying to seduce a stranger into bed with him when he is so clearly not the type for this girl… why was he even trying so hard?

He didn’t like using the term “vanilla”, it got too much of a bad rep, but that is what she seemed to be. Her clothes weren’t flashy, not even considering for “outgoing”. She wasn’t the type to go out and hook up, let alone get an escort. He wasn’t surprised she had decided to go for a guy like Steve. But Steve wasn’t here; Eddie was. He now had the job of taking care of this girl in any way she wanted him to.

‘Ok, shall we?’ She took a deep breath as she got up.

‘Are you–’ maybe they should talk about this? He didn’t want her to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with.

‘C’mon,’ next thing he knew, she grabbed Eddie by the wrist and whisked him off the barstool, dragging him along outside. It was early in the year, but late in the evening. The air was crispy, and the wind blew harshly. Eddie had definitely not dressed warm enough for the night, but that would have been an understatement for her. She would freeze in a few minutes.

‘I got a room in the hotel just across the corner,’ she spoke, rather determined. Some people might have mistaken it for confidence, but Eddie saw the other signs. Her clenched jaw, her consistent avoidance of eye contact… she was putting on a brave face. And that’s how people get into situations they don’t want to be in.

If it had been warmer, he would have stopped them on the street, but he had to get her out of the cold, so he let the girl drag him across the sidewalk to the hotel's entrance. It was big. The warm lighting reflecting off of all the decor, giving it a golden glow.

She did not stop walking until they reached the elevator. She clicked the button, and the arrow above the doors pointed down. The numbers slowly descended from 14.

‘I know you looked me up.’ Eddie started, having no idea how to introduce the topic fluently.

‘Ok.’ She was biting her lip nervously.

‘So I know you know what my usual gig is.’ They both watched the numbers go down. 7… 6…

‘So we’re on the same page.’ She glanced up at him; he could see it in the reflection of the metal doors.

‘I don’t think we are.’ The elevator pinged open as Eddie said so. They walked inside.

‘What do you mean?’ She finally looked him in the eye, only momentarily, but he saw that some of her fear slowly faded as she pressed the button to her floor. 15.

‘That, yes, I usually am pretty rough with my clients,’ he couldn’t hide the smile on his face, but could anyone blame him? He enjoyed his work. ‘But that’s because they want me to be rough.’ He looked at her intensely. Not to intimidate her, but to show her the seriousness of his words. ‘I don’t do anything that you don’t want me to do. You paid for an evening with… well, not me, but it’s all the same. If you get your money’s worth from a good pounding, I’m more than happy to oblige. From cuddling and watching a movie? All fine by me.’

♤

It’s all the same.

But it wasn’t, was it? They weren’t all the same.

‘What about you?’ you asked just as the elevator opened on your floor. Eddie let you walk through first. Now, you couldn’t look away from him, letting your head almost spin around a whole 360 to get your glance at him.

‘What about me?’ He had his hands in his pockets. Suddenly there didn’t seem to be anything scary about him. His hair was soft. His jacket, while not exactly winter-weather proof, looked cozy. The patches on his vest were hand sawn. With an image of him sitting at home, sewing them on, one by one, you got a sudden urge to ask about them, but who did that? Surely, in your situation, questions like that were out of bounds.

‘What do you like?’

‘That doesn’t matter,’ he chuckled, which confused you.

‘Doesn’t it? I might not be the most knowledgeable about the whole sex thing, but… shouldn’t both people involved be getting off? Doesn’t that make it better?’ You had reached your door. Weirdly, from having focused on the conversation as you walked, you didn’t feel any nerves unlocking the door. The room was dark, and you switched the light on. The nerves still didn’t bubble up. You could do it.

‘I suppose so– wait, you’re not a virgin, are you?’

You shook your head no.

‘Ok. not that there is anything wrong with that. Everyone’s living life at their own pace, I just don’t feel comfortable with that kind of responsibility. No one’s first time should be with….’

‘A professional?’ you raised your eyebrow, suggesting a possibly more classy term for what he wanted to say.

‘Nice.’ He smiled, and made his way over to the bed. You watched him get comfortable on the edge as you took off your light jacket. Your arms were freezing from the cold air outside, but the hotel room was cosy. Not to mention, the nerves were heating you up once more by the second. This was it. Eddie spread his legs wide, almost calling for your eyes to look at his thighs and how they stretched the material of the jeans.

When your eyes moved back up to his face, you were terrified to see that he was staring right back at you, devouring you with his gaze. He definitely saw you checking him out. But it was becoming harder to concentrate when you looked at how his large hand grazed over the faint stubble on his face.

‘C’mere,’ he said with a nod, and thoughtlessly, you followed his order. Eddie took you by both hands once you were close enough and placed them on his shoulders, then let his hands settle on your waist. His eyes found yours for a quick check. When you gave him the green light with a smile, he immediately mirrored it and asked: ‘what were your plans for this magical evening?’ He briefly tightened his grip on you and kept moving his hands up and down lightly as you tried to respond. As if that wasn’t hard enough with his eyes staring deep into you.

‘No, uhm, nothing special.’ You didn’t need special. Special meany complicated, and you just needed someone to help you out with the basics.

‘Making it special is kind of my one job, you know,’ he pulled you in for a hug so that his face was only a few inches away from your stomach. His arms now enveloped your frame, hands comfortably positioned over your ass. A complete stranger was hiking up the hem of your shirt, touching your bare skin underneath it. ‘So, what is it that you want?’ When he pulled up enough of your shirt to actually reveal the skin underneath, he placed a soft kiss on your side. That feeling alone felt electric. He kept on leaving fluttering kisses over your middle. It was a strange sensation as well as a pleasing one. So simple, and yet it had a great effect that you couldn’t quite explain.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you tried to concentrate on Eddie’s question as his kisses continued. What did you want from this night? But should you tell him the complete truth? Wasn’t there some way to avoid the embarrassing details? Then again… how could he ever help you with your needs if he didn’t know what they were?

‘I want…’ you gasped lightly when his teeth grazed your skin. For some reason, that pushed you over the edge to just put everything you worried about out there. You were already here, in this hotel room, with him. Fuck it.

♤

‘I want you to help me be good at sex.’

Eddie didn’t mean to stop. He saw in her reaction that that had been the wrong thing to do. She must have seen his widened eyes and taken it for judgement, while really, it had just been a small surprise. He wasn’t exactly used to people asking him to teach them how to have sex.

‘Sorry, uhm, nevermind. Just ignore me.’ She scratched at her neck while looking away. That won’t do. Eddie had to fix this before they would do anything else.

‘No, wait. Let’s… let’s talk this through for a moment.’ He led her by the hand and let her sit on the bed next to him. ‘Get comfortable. Is there anything in the minibar?’ he noticed the small fridge in the closet across the room and hoped she would understand his question to ask permission to use the service provided in the room.

‘Go ahead, take anything you want.’

‘Living large, are we?’ He cocked his brow before making his way over to the minibar. The selection of drinks was quite understated for a place like they were in. two cheap beers, a small bottle of champagne and two sodas. From what he had gathered at the bar, she didn’t seem to be a big drinker, so he grabbed a beer and a soda can. ‘Here.’

‘Oh, thanks.’ She didn’t look up at him as she took the can from him. Fuck, what was she embarrassed for? He doubted she would speak up in the conversation by herself, so just started out with a question. ‘Why do you think you need help with sex?’ She said she wasn’t a virgin, so she’s had experience. With a glance at her hands, he saw no ring or sign of regular wear of one. That, of course, didn’t exclude the option of a boyfriend or a partner. Maybe even a guy she just wanted to impress. The possibilities were endless, and for some strange reason, at the thought of her having sex with someone else, a strange feeling started gnawing at Eddie’s guts.

‘Because I’ve had sex a few times and so far it’s been awful.’ She sighed. ‘But I know that, to get better at it, I would have to go and endure endless dates to find a guy who would want to sleep with me, but then what if I do meet a great guy but just put him off because I’m shit in the sack?’

‘Don’t you believe that, if you did really find the right guy, he would help you? Or not even mind your alleged lack of skills “in the sack”?’ Eddie asked, taking a sip of beer. She just looked at him with a look that told him everything. Right. Men are egoistic scum. She had a point.

‘Sorry, you must think I’m insane.’ She tapped on the top of the can. The metal ticking sounded hollow in the quiet room.

‘I really don’t.’ If it wasn’t for the fact that he had a moral spine, he would have happily told her about some of his other clients.

‘Yeah, but I’m just wasting your time talking your ears off with absolute nonsense,’ she tried to laugh at it, lessen the tension.

Eddie leaned over the bed on his elbow. ‘Don’t you know that escorts are the new therapists?’

‘Wasn’t that bartenders?’

‘I brought you your drink, didn’t I? Call it a 2-for-1 combo deal.’ He put his beer in the air for a toast and took another sip. ‘And I was serious earlier. You already paid for the whole night, so I’m all yours, sweetheart’ He hoped that didn’t sound dismissive. The last thing he wanted to do (again) was to upset or offend this girl, who genuinely looked and seemed amazing. The idea of her not being able to find someone for herself, having to go down the process of finding someone like him to make her feel good…

‘Are all the guys at your agency this nice?’ she looked up from the lip of her can, bringing his mind back into the room.

‘No, Steve is a giant dick,’ Eddie laughed.

‘Right, while you have one,’ she teased.

‘Ha. Funny.’ He pointed at her in appreciation before taking a sip of the beer. ‘But I suppose you’re not wrong.’ She had seen his pictures; she knew what he had in stock. He wondered what she thought of it– sure, she might not have been ready for his regular repertoire, but that didn’t mean “never”. But what he wanted to know the most, which felt like the biggest surprise, was what did she think of him? For the first time since he started this gig, he wondered what she thought of his appearance. Did she like his tattoos? Was his hair too long, maybe? Were his clothes too shabby? Perhaps it was because she had not actually picked him. She had chosen Steve.

Oh, Stevie. They couldn’t be more different.

‘Are you sure you’re ok with me… being here?’

♤

‘I am.’ You didn’t know what else to reply to that question. Of course, the night was not going anything like you had expected. Until two hours ago, you were planning to have some alright sex with, what you could describe as a “regular hot guy”. Instead, you were on the bed, fully clothed, drinking a coke next to a Metallica reject. Was it too late to still do any of the things you had initially paid for, or was the mood entirely ruined? Did people recover from going into highly personal and dramatic tangents in front of the escort they had hired?

‘Ok, cool. Just… making sure. Fair warning, I might do that a few more times through the night.’ The idea of still having an entire night to spend with Eddie made you really happy. Even if you didn’t know what to do with him in this small room. With a large king-sized bed in the middle, and not much else but the essential hotel decor, the room was perfect for exactly the reason you had booked it and not much else.

Just as you thought it was getting a bit too quiet between the two of you and had wanted to speak up with a question, Eddie opened his mouth to say something as well. So you also simultaneously apologised and let the other person say their piece.

‘No, go ahead,’ you nudged him. Whatever he had to say would probably lead the conversation better.

‘I was just wondering, when you said “help be good with sex”, which aspect are we talking about here? Just regular? Oral? Foreplay? Like, what are we talking about here?’

‘Uhm, pretty much everything.’ You winced at yourself. So far, all your attempts at intercourse had been not great. It always felt awkward and uncomfortable. The guys would get what they were there for and didn’t feel the need to wait around for more. And if it kept on happening, then the math was simple, wasn’t it? Just look at what the overlapping factor was in all the situations. It was eventually your friends one night, after a few bottles of wine, who suggested the idea of just hiring a guy to teach you what to do. It would be so much easier. No feelings, and they know what they are doing. Foolproof plan.

And somehow, you still managed to make things complicated and weird.

♤

‘Now see, I don’t believe that,’ Eddie smiled. There was no way she didn’t know how to do anything. Especially since most of it was just pure instinct. There is a reason why people call it “messing around”, and it’s not because of any guide or formula that one should be working off of to get it right.

‘Well, then you should ask the other guys.’ Again with that little smile, trying to undermine her own feelings.

‘No, fuck them. I bet they didn’t even make you cum.’ He accused. Her lack of response was enough of an answer. Eddie could bet his entire wage that she thought it was her fault they didn’t get her to climax and that… that actually pissed him off. How often had he had his clients tell him how their husbands, the men supposed to take care of them, never bothered to fulfil their one simple and honestly fucking delicious duty? A thought sparked in his mind, and he couldn’t keep back the grin that sprouted up with it.

‘What?’ she asked at the sight of his smile.

‘Have you ever?’

‘Ever what?’

‘Had a climax?’

‘Oh,’ the way she got shy talking about it, to Eddie’s embarrassment, turned him on. The best thing was they didn’t even have to play pretend. ‘I mean, I think?’

‘You think?’ He raised an eyebrow.

‘Yeah, sorry,’ she cleared her throat, ‘Uhm… I’ll just be right back.’ And having said that, she ran to the bathroom.

As she closed the door, Eddie pondered on the idea of undressing. It would speed things up, possibly breaking the icy wall that closed her off. With one naked person in the room, it was hard to think about much else, which meant less to worry about. But he didn’t think she would actually appreciate it. No, she needed to take it slow. And he would happily guide her through it all.

♤

You splashed some cold water in your face. There had been no reason for you to run out of the room like that except for being a total chicken. The way Eddie was so open and comfortable, talking about all of that… brought out a new fear in you. One you didn’t know you had. One you couldn’t even identify. You just knew you had to get out from under his gaze. Those big brown honey-glazed eyes.

Why the hell did you leave the room? He was sitting so close to you. Your legs were nearly touching. He still sat with his legs spread, basically inviting you to get between them. And what do you do? Run away.

You splashed some more water onto your face.

There wasn’t much makeup on your face to begin the night, and whatever you had left of your mascara and blush was wiped off with the towel you grabbed. One more look in the mirror to ensure no grey ink streaks down your cheeks, and you were ready to get out again.

Just one big breath in. and out.

The bathroom door handle moved silently, and you pulled the door open to be met with Eddie’s chest. He was standing right in front of you.

‘Oh, hi.’

‘Hey, just wanted to make sure you were ok in there.’ He knocked on the door frame in a delayed manner for extra effect. Knock knock. You noticed he had taken off his vest and jacket. Just in his t-shirt now. The sleeves ended right at his biceps, revealing the sleeves of tattoos he hid underneath all those removed layers.

‘So are you alright?’ he asked when you didn’t respond to what he had said earlier. The question pulled your thoughts out of the clouds and your head up to look him in the eye.

‘Yeah, yeah, just…’ your mouth was extremely dry. One more second and no words would be leaving it ever again. It was just gonna have to come out now. Then, with a quick exhale, you admitted. ‘I’ve never had an orgasm.’ From Eddie’s reaction, it didn’t seem to have been any news to him. Like it was the most normal conversation, which, given his job, it probably was. You tried to ignore the thought of him and the many women he must have helped.

‘Well, I would be more than honoured to change that for you.’ He took a step forward, and the proximity forced you to look up at him to see his eyes.

‘Is that a rehearsed line?’ Apparently, your one outburst of truth led to the pandora’s box in your brain, and now you couldn’t shut up, saying the first thing that came to your mind. And unfortunately, it was still filled with the images of him with other people; him making all of them feel ecstatic.

Luckily, Eddie laughed at your presumption. His head tilted back, and when it came back down, and his eyes were once again locked in with yours, his lips pulled up into a smirk. One of his hands found its way up to your cheek before he leaned in. you were ready for him to kiss you, but instead, his breath lingered over your skin. So close that you should have been able to touch him, and maybe you did. Because there was something that made your mind a thick haze, impossible to navigate through. Everything spun around you except for Eddie.

‘So what if I did rehearse it?’ his words hit your jaw as he hovered over you, then whispering directly into your, he asked: ‘What if I’ve already planned 10 different ways in which I want to make you writhe underneath me? Would you mind that?’ Would you mind?

Whatever for?

In a shaky breath, you spoke the only thing you could think of at the moment.

‘Kiss me.’

♤

Eddie didn’t need to be told twice.

He must have been grinning like an idiot, and he could only hope it didn’t put her off as he brought their lips together and kissed her. Deeply. Passionately.

The hair around her face was slightly wet, as was her jaw, telling him she had just spent the last minute splashing water in her face. She tasted sweet, like the coke she had been drinking earlier.

Her hand crept up to his collar, shyly grabbing at it and pulling it down, revealing the slightest inch of the tattoo on his clavicle. Not that she would see it, having closed her eyes the second their lips connected.

Eddie let one of his hands find its way back to her waist. Holding on to each other, they stumbled back onto the bed. She let out a whimper as Eddie’s knees hit the edge of the bed, and he fell backwards, taking her right down with him.

It was a slow tear-away, leaving both in a haze. Eddie watched her sit up straight, straddling him and keeping him locked. If she moved, she would feel how hard he was getting.

‘I assume kissing was not on the agenda of the lesson?’ He brushed some of his hair out of his face.

‘Well, if you have any tips–’ she tugged at the bottom of her shirt. A nervous habit, probably, but all Eddie could think about was how he wanted that material as far away from her as possible.

‘You’re joking, right?’ She must have been. The kiss, though brief, had been… he felt alive after it. His chest was tight as he caught his breath. ‘Fuck, c’mere.’ He pulled her right back. It might have only been one kiss, but it had been more than enough for him. He was already hooked.

♤

His lips were slightly chapped, but not in any way to make you feel uncomfortable. Nothing that some chapstick before going out into the cold couldn’t solve. You could smell the bitter beer he had just drank, and despite the drink having been cooled, it brought a warmth out in you. This heat swam over your cheeks and the parts of you that he held close. His hands were now back to playing with your shirt. The material was creeping up over your stomach, up up up…

♤

‘Can you take your shirt off first, please?’ she asked nervously once the second kiss parted. Her small voice sent sparks flying down Eddie’s body, directly to his dick.

‘Yeah, ‘course.’ All he could do was smile. She shuffled down his legs to give him space and remove the shirt. There was no way she didn’t feel how tight he was getting in his trousers, but she didn’t show any reaction to it, eyes focused on his chest. Eddie looked down at himself. He had almost forgotten about those.

‘You have piercings?’

He kept on forgetting to update his pictures on the website. It was such a hassle. Taking the time to plan it all in, preferably with someone else, so he could have some action shots. There was the editing, and then he would have to send them into the office so someone could actually upload them… he just couldn’t be bothered. As much as he was meant to keep his clients aware of what they were paying for, it was selfish of him to love their surprised reactions. Just now, the way her eyes immediately locked in on them in surprise. How her hand lightly fought against reaching for him.

‘You can touch them. It doesn’t hurt.’ He took her hand and placed it right over his chest. She immediately regained control over her body, and her finger lightly traced over the silver bar. Eddie’s body tightened for a second in bliss. ‘See? It feels fucking good, actually.’ He hadn’t meant to whisper the words out or for them to be so shaky. It was supposed to be a light joke to keep the tension away, yet it pulled the atmosphere down to something intense and sultry. Hopefully, it wouldn’t scare her away.

But she smiled and leaned in again for a featherlight kiss. Fuck, she could kiss. It was like a gift from the gods themselves. A little piece of heaven. If this was how she kissed every guy, Eddie couldn’t comprehend how they didn’t line up for more. And then her hand kept moving, slowly tracing the ink on his body. Her fingernails grazed over the drawings. Perhaps it was a placebo, but he had always considered the tattoos to be more sensitive than the rest of him. The soft touches made him shake in need of her.

‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked, nearly out of breath, mind spiralling with everything he wanted to do to her. He couldn’t keep it in a straight line anymore. Meanwhile, he was supposed to be the professional here. Meanwhile, she expected him to teach her… he was absolutely fucked.

And then her following words only made his situation worse.

‘Just tell me what to do, Eddie.’ Somehow, he missed the exact moment when her lips travelled down to his jaw. It must have been some kind of joke– there was no way this incredible woman did not know what she was doing.

‘Fuck, baby.’ He groaned. He actually groaned. Eddie never did that during his sessions. It just wasn’t something he thought he could do with his clients. It turns out he had never been this turned on by any of them.

It made sense. How often did he think up hour scenarios before meeting the ladies? How often did he imagine he was with someone else? He had thought that maybe, because of the rules of his job and the frequency of his sessions, that maybe sex just wasn’t really anything for him. Not that he didn’t enjoy his job or regretted ever going into the business… money was good, and he was good at what he did. Yet, it was still a job. And jobs could often tire a person out. Maybe he had become desensitised to it all.

But this proved all of his theories wrong. He was entirely in the moment. Aware of everything that was happening between him and her. Nothing between them was new, or necessarily exciting, and yet it felt like nothing he had felt before. Nothing but kissing sent him down a road he could never return from.

And now she wanted him to tell her what to do. Yes, in the teaching context, he understood. But was she even aware that this would not be that far from the ordinary things he did in his sessions if they had just removed that context? Just add in some leather and handcuffs.

‘Take your clothes off, baby.’ He spoke softly, not wanting to roll back into his regular role. This wasn’t that, he reminded himself. He didn’t want it to be that.

When she started to pull her shirt up, he quickly took over. ‘No, wait, go slower. Take your time.’ Fuck, please take your time, he internally cried out. He didn’t want this night to end. It all felt like a dream, and he didn’t want to get dressed and wake up. He didn’t want to leave because once he did, coming back was not an option for him.

♤

You followed his instruction, slowly pulling your shirt over your head. Focusing on him. Looking at him prevented you from getting too much into your head. After all, it was hard to think or worry about anything with someone like him, half-naked, under you. You traced his tattoos. They were all black and white, the ink scratchy and uneven on most as if done at home.

Not precisely stick and poke, but not from a studio either. A pull at your heartstrings made you think of how much money you had paid. How much he needed that money… See, hard to think of your own insecurities when looking at him.

Eddie moved up to lean on his elbow. You were sitting still for too long; he must have sensed something was off. With a gentle touch, he stroke your bare skin. You were both shirtless, though you still had your bra on; his hand was sneakily moving up to the strap over your back, ready to unclasp it.

‘What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, sweetheart.’ It must be some kind of trick he was pulling, something he learned over his experience on the job because of the way your whole body fluttered at the sound of the little nickname… it must be a trick. But there was nothing you could complain about either.

Once again, your mouth worked faster than your brain, and before you could tell yourself to shut up, you answered with the first question that came to your mind. ‘Do you do anything else… besides this?’ a second later, before he even had the time to react, you butted in with your own response. ‘That is probably way out of bounds. Sorry–’

‘Only a little bit,’ he was taking it lightly with a chuckle. Clearly, with no intention of stopping what the two of you had been doing, he littered your jaw and neck with kisses between his answer. ‘I’m in a band. But garage gigs don’t exactly pay the bills.’ You felt him tremble with a laugh against your neck. Eddie had by then sat up and kept you in place on his lap with a tight hold. As he kept kissing you, you let your body speak for itself, closing your eyes and trusting your instincts. Somehow you knew what felt right and what didn’t. Your hips moved of their own accord, grinding against Eddie. You tried not to think about what you were doing, knowing you would just start to freak out and freeze. Instead, you thought of Eddie on stage with his band, imagining him in all the different positions, trying to figure out which instrument fit him best.

As if he could read your mind, he said, ‘I play guitar.’ His hand had now officially made its mark on your bra, grabbing the backstrap, and wringing it until it unclasped.

‘That’s hot.’

‘Yeah?’ The bra snapped open. Eddie took it upon himself to slide the straps off your arms. You threw the item off to the side of the room, and Eddie didn’t waste a second to bring his attention to your breast.

♤

Had no one ever touched her properly?

All that Eddie did was kiss her tits, and she was almost coming undone. He felt a pang of terrible guilt on behalf of his entire sex. How the fuck did no one make her feel good… not only that. How did men make her feel as if she was the problem? That she had to step her game up and learn. If he ever got his hands on one of those assholes– woah. Calm down.

♤

‘Yeah,’ you gasped out the small word. ‘So- so hot.’ It was hard to keep a sentence straight when he had his full attention on your nipples.

One preoccupying his lips, while the other was cupped by his large hand. He was rough in his touches, pulling and squeezing, but not in any way that felt too much. On the contrary, you needed more. More of him.

He switched from one breast to the other in his movements. Then when he pulled away, he kissed you again. Then, he looked you in the eyes, a false seriousness covering his features.

‘So, let that be lesson one: foreplay. Extremely important before any kind of sex.’

‘But… I didn’t do anything?’ You blinked. It was true, wasn’t it? He had been doing most of the work; meanwhile, you hadn’t done anything for him. But Eddie frowned.

‘Oh, baby, you did plenty.’ His hand reached down to his own trousers. ‘You feel this?’ When you hesitated, he took your hand to guide it over his crotch, where you could clearly feel the outline of his dick. ‘Yeah, that’s all you, sweetheart.’ He was so cocky, so confident.

He kept on talking. ‘And let me ask you one more question.’ For this, he leaned in to almost whisper the words against your hot skin. ‘Are you wet?’

‘I don’t know.’

Eddie clicked his tongue in disapproval. ‘I think you do know, but let me check then, hmm?’ You weren’t sure how he did it, but he brought you underneath his body in one fell swing. You were now lying on the bed, and he slid down to sit on his knees at the end of the bed. ‘Professional opinion and all, right?’

‘Right.’ You hid your face in your hands to laugh. What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

Eddie reached for your hands, making you look down at him.

‘I wanna see your pretty face.’ But, God, speaking of pretty faces, his smile might have been one of the most beautiful sights in the world. He could have been a model, probably… and yet…

You didn’t want to look at him, however, when he started unzipping your trousers. The button opened up, and you heard the zipper move down, releasing the tension of the material around your waist. Eddie tapped your hip, telling you to move them up. Once you did so, with one big tug, he pulled the pants down to the middle of your thighs with one big tug. It took him three more to get them off entirely. The next second, the trousers were in the corner of the room, along with your shirts.

‘Oh, baby,’ his syllables were long, dramatic, playful. ‘You are fucking soaking through these.’ You felt your back stiffen at the feeling of his fingers on you. Two, his pointer and middle fingers, slowly tracing down over the thin cotton. Then he’d roll them back up, letting his knuckles press the slit.

‘Fuck, can’t wait to taste you– can I taste you, baby?’ He asked, eyes pleading you for it.

‘You don’t have to,’ you responded. The air in the room seemed to be turning colder and sent shivers over your arms.

‘I know I don’t have to.’ Eddie scoffed, teasing. ‘Let that be lesson two then: if a guy doesn’t want his mouth near your pussy, then you shouldn’t come anywhere near his dick.’ He growled out the last words, and his hand had such a tight grip on your panties, that, with one quick move, he tore the material in two.

♤

‘Eddie!’ she shouted.

‘Shit, sorry.’ He got too carried away in everything. ‘I’ll pay you back.’ That’s when he glanced down; it was like his memory was instantly wiped. ‘Oh, fuck yes. Fuck you got the cutest pussy I’ve ever seen.’ He left a kiss a few inches above it and slowly made his way down. His fingers returned to the slow up-and-down motion he had done before, and each time, he let himself go deeper. Her body tensed up, and breathing hitched in her throat until it came out in a soft moan.

‘That’s right,’ Eddie said before one last kiss on the most crucial spot. And this kiss lasted. After a few seconds, he practically made out with her clit, as his fingers entered her.

That is when her hand reached for his hair. The touch was enough to make him moan against her.

‘Oh fuck,’ she moaned loud, eyes tightly shut in pleasure. Keeping his fingers deep within her, Eddie mused:

‘That’s right, baby. Does it feel good?’

‘So good.’ She dug her nails through his hair, nudging him on to continue whatever he was doing.

♤

Even though you had not meant to pull at his hair, it was all much more of an impulsive action, Eddie groaned out against. He pulled you in closer, sending the vibrations from his body right through yours.

You had expected, thinking up this plan of hiring someone to teach you sex, that it would be much more formal. That the guy would give you step-by-step instructions on how to do things, tell you everything directly, and you would follow. Maybe that is how it would be with anyone else, but with Eddie, he made you feel it. Without saying a word, you knew how to listen to him. Through his reactions, you knew what to do. His moans encouraged you to pull his hair, to close your thighs around him. Meanwhile, your response spurred him to go, let his fingers move harder, his tongue slick deeper through you.

‘Fuck, Eddie, fuck.’ You felt that feeling inside you, the build-up. It wasn’t familiar, for you had only experienced it very few times, mostly on your own. This tension deep within you. It grew, quickly reaching its tipping point.

Eddie’s free hand fastened itself onto your leg; he seemed to have lost himself in you. Then his eyes moved up, locking right with yourself. A part of you wanted to take a picture of what you saw in front of you and cherish the memory forever. His honey-brown eyes glazed in need of you. This spark of all-knowing deviltry.

Your whole body tightened as you felt it coming, tighter and tighter, like a rubber band ready to snap.

But instead, Eddie let go of the band as he pulled away from you to accompany your last moan of his name.

A whimper left your mouth, and pleads were ready to follow it, begging him to not stop. Not now. Just a few more seconds.

‘Lesson number three,’ he wiped his mouth– which was glistening in the room's warm light– with his thumb but never wiping the smug smile off his face. ‘Tease, tease and tease. The longer you keep them waiting, the sweeter their reward will be.’

At this point, you could not imagine it being so sweet, as all you felt was a horribly empty feeling, deflating your insides by the second.

‘Everyone likes that?’ You asked.

‘Hmm, good question.’ Eddie got up to remove his belt. He made a spectacle out of it, sliding the whole strap from between the loops, then throwing it down to the ground. ‘It does probably depend on a person, what their limits are. How much they can last and take.’ Like a showman, he made you watch. Made you wait. ‘I’m sure some people would rather just get on to the final act.’

‘Not me?’ you asked as he pulled his jeans down along with his boxers.

Just like the picture.

‘Hmm,’ with a pondering expression, he fell down onto the mattress beside you. ‘Not you.’

‘What makes you say that?’ It took all your willpower to keep looking into his eyes. He, however, wasn’t as courteous. His eyes roamed over your naked body as his hand found its way back between your legs. A quick snap. He slapped your clit lightly, but it was enough to immediately sent a spark through you, nearly bringing you back to the spot of tension.

‘Just a hunch.’ He slapped you again.

♤

She was so fucking sensitive. Like a little porcelain doll.

For good measure, and the fact he couldn’t get enough of how her body moved when encountering intense pleasure, he gave that pussy a third and final snap. Maybe he would have kept going, he certainly had not felt like stopping any time soon, but it was when her hand reached for his. Fingers around his wrist. Her eyes closed lightly, mouth parted just a tiny bit, enough for her to whisper his name.

‘Eddie.’

‘What’s up, sweetheart,’ he leaned in his lips almost on her cheek again. She didn’t respond. ‘Lesson four: always use words. I don’t know what you really want unless you tell me.’ He left sloppy kisses over her face as he dictated. ‘So? What. Do. You. Want?’ He punctuated each word with a touch

‘Fuck me.’

‘Of course.’ He had expected her to play around with the words, make him pull it out of him, but no. So, he got up and reached for the wallet in his jeans. He should have checked sooner. This had been too much of a risk, but luckily, the silver foil stuck out immediately.

She had sat up again to watch him rip the packaging open.

‘You’re making me feel really unprofessional right now,’ he chuckled to himself whilst pulling the condom out. ‘I have a whole box in my bag with the rest of my stuff.’ He had planned to get it out of his car after meeting her at the bar, but then everything had gone a bit to shit, hadn’t it?

‘I have a box… in my bag,’ she said, for some reason almost embarrassed.

‘Someone’s eager, huh?’ Perhaps he didn’t help, but really, he was talking about himself. Eddie could immediately imagine himself being with her for the rest of the night, the entire fucking week if he could, but something told him that after this— that would most likely be it. It was better not to stretch a good thing out. She paid for him to teach her the basics, not exhaust her to her limits, perhaps scare her off of sex forever.

‘No, I just–’ did she notice he was joking? Either way, she hid her face in her hands, laughing at herself. Eddie took the moment that she wasn’t eating him alive with her eyes to get a few pumps in. it wasn’t even needed; he was rock hard; it was just a routine at this point. He let his head roll back a little back as his hand moved up and down, then got on with putting the condom on.

♤

‘How should we uhm— how do you want—’ you looked for a good way to phrase it as Eddie got back into bed.

‘Anything particular in mind you wanted to get a hang of?’ he asked. You shook your head no. Stupid. You should have done your research. Come more prepared.

But could anything prepare you for Eddie? It didn’t seem likely. You could have come in with a four-volume guide, and he would have probably thrown it out the window and shown you a whole new world.

‘Then we’ll just see where the night takes us, why don’t we?’ He positioned himself on top of you. Arms on each side of your shoulders, stomach hovering over yours. As you both breathed in, you could feel his muscles. He put his weight on one of his forearms as the other hand reached back down between you, moving his fingers in a circular, steady motion.

Too occupied with how good his touch on you felt, there was no real thought going through your mind when you pulled his face closer to you, kissing him deeply. Your noses pushed against one another. Your fingers rooted down between his hair.

Eddie spread your legs wider apart, creating the perfect position for himself.

‘You ok?’ he asked, lips practically still on yours.

‘Mhm.’ You hummed, but Eddie clicked his tongue, pulling away a few inches to look at you a bit more focused.

‘Mm, remember rule four?’

You didn’t want to remember. You didn’t want to think. All you wanted, needed, was him inside you. But you answered: ‘use your words? Let them know what you want.’

‘Good girl,’ he kissed you softly. ‘It also goes for consent. Probably should have made that the first lesson, but what can you do? Make clear what and when you want something. If the guy doesn’t listen– I don’t know, kick him in the nuts.’

‘Got it.’ You nodded.

‘So, let’s try it out.’ He didn’t move, just waited for you to speak.

You took a deep breath. ‘I want you to fuck me, Eddie.’

‘There we go. Feels good, doesn’t it?’ His hand returned to rubbing your clit as he moved around above you, getting in the proper position. ‘Quick lesson five: it’s fucking hot when girls say shit like that. So don’t be afraid to get dirty.’ Slowly and carefully, he let himself sink into you. His length filled you up, spread your walls. It was a perfectly tight fit, making it impossible to hold anything in.

‘Dirty and loud.’ Eddie stayed still, letting you get used to the feeling of him. ‘Don’t hold it in, baby, ok?’

‘O-ok.’ Your breath was shaky. Once used to him, you placed your hand on his chest. His hot breath burned your skin.

Eddie kept a slow pace, letting both of you ease into the rhythm of being together, but eventually, you felt your body loosen up. Finally, it wasn’t enough anymore. Was he holding himself in? Could he tell you needed more but was waiting for you to tell him? Teach you your lesson.

‘More,’ the word was nearly just an exhale, but it was enough for Eddie. He kissed you passionately with a smile, and he plunged deeper inside you. From then on, his thrusts were harder, faster. He grabbed your leg and pulled it over himself. The new change brought in a whole new angle, letting you feel him through your entire body.

The pleasure was intense, and beautiful. Your mind was scattered, so you didn’t even feel your teeth graze over your lips, locking in your voice. But Eddie noticed.

♤

The second he caught it, something in Eddie’s mind switched on. As much as he tried to contain that part of himself, keep it away from her, he couldn’t. It was fucking primal.

He thrust harder than he did before. His hand found its way to her cheek, squeezing it– not too tight, he pulled himself back quickly, but strong enough to show her he meant it– and his words came out in a growl.

‘What did I tell you, baby? Don’t hold it in.’ A few more deep thrusts left both their bodies shaking with each move. ‘I want to hear every pretty sound that comes out of your mouth.’ His thumb pressed against her bottom lip, and, without another word exchanged, she parted those beautiful lips and granted him access.

She fucking moaned around it and sucked her own juices off it. Could she taste the sweetness? He hoped she could. He was jealous of every person that ever got to taste it, but he quickly let that thought sink away as he had more pressing questions.

‘Now, where did you learn that?’ He smiled when he pulled his thumb away, his hips only slightly rearranging the pace as he spoke calmly.

‘Sorry, was that wrong?’ She blinked. Genuine fucking naivete. Eddie could barely hold it in anymore.

‘Only in the sense that it got me this close to blowing my load before you got even close.’ He quickly regained his speed.

From that point on, she didn’t hold back. Her moans were beautiful. The sound of his name comes directly from the centre of her pleasure was like hitting the jackpot. If only he could live off those cute noises, he’d be the wealthiest man on earth. The luckiest. The happiest.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

But shit were her tits a sight for sore eyes. Looking at them, he couldn’t go a second without touching them. For a moment, he got scared he was too rough, but then the claws came out– almost literally. Her nails dug into his back. It would leave marks, and Eddie couldn’t wait to see them when he looked in the mirror the following day.

‘Eddieee,’ it came out so shaky, so desperate. He could tell she was getting close. It took much less than expected. He had a thousand things in his head that he still wanted to do with her, show her, but even he realised then it was wishful thinking. His own words from minutes ago reverberated in his mind.

You’re making me feel really unprofessional right now.

He was ready to burst, and it only took a few minutes in missionary. Usually, he could go for ages.

Then again, he hadn’t been this turned on in a long time.

‘You close, baby?’ He asked and almost hoped to hear yes; Eddie didn’t know how much longer he could last, and if he came before her– he could never live that down.

But she was lost in him, too far down to appropriately respond. That wasn’t good. Eddie slowed down a bit. ‘Hey, hey, you alright?’

♤

‘Yes,’ you took a deep breath, ‘please don’t stop. Not now.’ He was making you feel incredible. In a matter of a few minutes, you felt like you had reached the seventh heaven. Absolute bliss.

But perhaps you didn’t feel how much you actually felt. As good as it was, this overwhelming sensation pulled you away from everything around you. When Eddie brought you back, with the softness of his voice and the touch of his hands, only then you realised how far down you had been.

‘Are you sure? We can take a break.’ Eddie’s eyes searched your face for any signs of trouble, but before he could spiral, you halted him. A few deep breaths were all it took for you to be present.

‘I’m ok. Thank you.’ You kissed him. Whatever anyone would say if they heard about your plan, this was how you knew you had made the right choice. Or perhaps how you knew that the universe wasn’t always against you. Tonight, it brought you Eddie. Whether it was a freak accident or not, you would never regret the choices that led to it.

Eddie continued what he was doing, giving you all his attention. To all of you. You didn’t feel like an inch of your body went down forgotten. Meanwhile, he was all you could think about. It was like the world around you dissolved. A fire could have burned down the entire room, and you don’t think you would have even noticed. Not with Eddie’s cock deep inside you. He didn’t falter. Each thrust was full of him, hitting the perfect spot. Mind-numbing, toe-curling and…

Soon, you felt that feeling again. That tightness inside you. This time even tighter than previously. It was to be expected that Eddie knew what he was talking about. The longer the wait, the better the reward. And to think only a little time had passed since the two of you entered the hotel room. Not much time at all compared to how much you wished you could be with him. Was it insane? Probably, but you didn’t care.

You just wanted him, and you would take as much as he could give you.

♤

Eddie could feel how close she was.

It had definitely scared him when he saw how far down she had been, already blaming himself for taking it too far. He had been ready to pull the plug and return her all the money. It didn’t matter if her payment had actually gone to his account; he would make sure that his fuck ups were compensated.

But she was fine. Like a little firecracker that she was, she kissed him, wiping his whole mind clear of anything but her. Her and that sweet, sweet taste.

It didn’t take much longer for breathing to break up in quick succession. Moans got louder, likely uncontrolled, and her grip on his tighter. Her nails dug into his shoulder just as he loved it.

‘C’mon baby, come on.’ He encouraged her to lose all of her control. Lose herself to the pleasure. She needed to know how it was to be treated right. He needed her to know. And he didn’t know how much more he could keep it going. His last few thrusts still reached the deepest parts of her, and got everything out of her he wanted, but he felt himself lose his momentum. With each second, it was getting harder to concentrate.

‘Oh my god-’ she whimpered as she released underneath him with a high-pitched scream at that. As much as he wanted to hear all of it, he kissed her to mute it. There was no need for the neighbours to get concerned.

Though from all the other noises they made, from how the bed shook and banged against the wall, they would make the correct assumption.

Not much later, as she was still coming undone, Eddie let himself reel in the pleasure. Then, stilled within her, his lips on her neck now, he came. When he pulled away, he wished he could have left a mark on her, but he knew that would be a step too far.

‘Thank you’ were the first words to come out of her mouth when he discarded the full condom in the trash. He wasn’t sure what to do now. He didn’t like feeling naked post-sex, but he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. Maybe she expected more. If so, he could give it to her, but he just wasn’t sure–

‘It’s my pleasure,’ he sat on the edge of the bed, just in reach to place his hand on her leg. They were both covered in sweat, naturally, but the cold was taking over. ‘You should get under the covers.’ The last thing he wanted was for her to get sick.

‘Right.’ She pulled at the corner of the blanket– always a much more arduous task than necessary in hotel rooms when they’re tucked in deeper than the pits of hell. As soon as she pulled the white sheet over her body, Eddie regretted his choice of words. It was probably the last time he would have seen her naked, and he didn’t even take a moment to appreciate what he had in front of him.

He found his underwear, which was almost kicked under the bed. When he resurfaced, her face was full of worry. The furrow of her brows was enough to tell him that.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked as he covered himself up.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I didn’t do anything. I asked you to help me figure this out, and we just–’

‘No, hey, hey.’ Eddie practically jumped into bed next to her. Cupped her face in his hands and made sure she looked at him as he spoke. ‘First of all, if this is how you feel, I should be the one to be sorry since I clearly didn’t do my job. So I’m sorry. But you have no reason to think you didn’t do well. This was amazing.’ He could only hope she knew just how much he meant his words. That she could trust a complete stranger with words as much as she did with their bodies.

‘No, Eddie, it’s not that you didn’t teach me anything, but I– there’s still so much I don’t know. Fuck, I still have no idea how to suck a guy off.’

Eddie cursed under his breath. Just from those words, he could feel himself twitching against his boxers. This girl was going to be the death of me. She kept on talking.

‘Would it be ok if we do this again? Not as an accident this time, I will book you.’

He wanted to say yes so badly. But he had to keep his mind clear as he answered. ‘I don’t think that will be a good idea.’ fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He wanted to punch himself in the gut.

♤

‘I try to keep a strict one-time, no repeating clients policy. It makes the job much easier,’ Eddie explained.

‘No, I understand.’ Having to do this with the number of people he does… you couldn’t imagine how that was. How other people would be with him, and what could have happened for him to make such a rule in the first place.

‘I would say you should try Steve for real, but I don’t believe you need any “sex lessons”.

‘Right,’ you scoffed away the comment, but Eddie was persistent.

‘I mean it. I can tell that you have a whole talent in there for this shit. You just need to find the right guy to bring it out in you because whoever you’ve been in the past, clearly, they weren’t doing it right. Then you will learn everything else you want to learn by yourself. Basically like you did now.’ He gave you a kind smile, and you tried to replicate it.

‘I did need you.’ You couldn’t look at him as you said it.

‘Ehhh– not so sure about that. For a while, I thought you just wanted me for my body.’ He fell over to his back, hand on his chest as if he had just been shot. ‘That shit can hurt, you know.’ He was so dramatic and made you laugh so easily. You had never expected anything like that to happen that night.

♤

A body to adore was one thing, but he might miss her smile even more.

‘Are you feeling alright?’

‘Why do you keep asking me that?’ She blinked. Eddie pushed down the anger he felt at all those morons that had not treated her right before.

‘Let that be your final lesson then,’ he pushed down another instinct, this time to make a cheesy reference that she might not get. There was no need to make the mood weird or awkward now. Eddie cleared his throat. ‘Lesson… what number are we on, six?– Lesson six: aftercare. Just check up on yourself to see if you’re able to carry on afterwards. While always quite vital, the more intense the session, the more important the aftercare. It keeps you stable.’

She nodded in understanding. ‘So, how would that look?’

‘Well, let’s see…. Are you sore? Do you need anything?’ Once again, he was mad at himself for going into this without his usual stuff. While his bag was mostly filled with toys that might be a bit too much for her, he also had plenty of shit to make her feel better if needed.

‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘Ok, do you need something to drink? Eat?’ Before she even replied, Eddie lunged for the can of soda she had discarded on the desk opposite the bed. The bubbles would have mostly flattened by now, but it was still a liquid to drink.

‘Not really,’ she said as he handed her the can and took a small sip. ‘Ok, maybe a little bit.’ They both smiled as she emptied the can of its last chug.

‘More?’ Eddie asked as he tried to read it off of her.

‘No, I’m good.’ Just like before, she started tapping on the can. Now empty, it sounded even more hollow.

‘And was everything alright? I was scared I might have gone too far at one point.’

♤

The way you could see the genuine concern and worry in Eddie’s eyes made you want to wrap your arms around him, kiss him, and never let him go. To think that a few hours ago, neither of you was even aware of the other’s existence. That you weren’t supposed to be aware, that it was all a giant coincidence. And that after tonight… that would be all that it ever was.

Here was this fantastic man taking care of you better than any other guy had.

Sure, you paid him to do it, but something in you, call it a freaky instinct, told you that that was just who Eddie was. He wanted to take care of you.

Maybe that’s why he went into the business. Who could really tell?

‘It was perfect,’ you told him because it was.

‘Ok, good.’ He nodded, smiling shyly. It was the first time that night that you saw a crack in the confident front of the guy.

‘Really, thank you.’ You reached for his hand, and his eyes followed it. He looked as your fingers lazily intertwined while you watched him.

‘You, uhm, you should probably go to the bathroom. Make sure you wash all of me out. Make it a standard practice, really.’

‘Will do,’ your voice wasn’t hoarse, yet you whispered. It suddenly became hushed in the room. It could have been quiet all this time, but it was then that you grew aware of it.

You didn’t want to leave the bed, or Eddie, just yet, but you knew you should listen to his professional advice. Everything he had told you so far felt like the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe you also knew of them already, maybe did it too, but it only made sense when it came from Eddie. ‘Don’t leave yet, ok? I want to say goodbye.’ The idea of him being gone when you came back felt gut-wrenching for many reasons, but all unknown.

All Eddie did was nod.

When you returned, he had just put his shirt back on. His belt was in his jeans loops but not yet fastened. Was it weird to watch him get dressed? It felt more like a thing real couples did, which you were far from. It felt stranger doing so whilst you were still completely naked, so you grabbed the fluffy white bathrobe on the bathroom shelf and pulled it on, tying it tightly around your waist.

‘That’s me then.’ Eddie scratched the back of his neck, looking around, most likely checking if he didn’t forget something. A part of you hoped he did. He would realise it only hours later and rush back to find it. That this wasn’t the last time the two of you would meet.

A girl could wish.

‘Right.’ You put on a brave face as you made your way to the door. ‘Thank you again. For everything.’

All Eddie did in response was nod with a tight-lipped smile.

The door was open now. He was already on the threshold. Compared to the soft glow of your room, the corridor's light felt jarring to your eyes. Just like that, it was over.

You could not believe this was the end. It ended as quickly as it started. A whole whirlwind of… everything, really.

Before you could stop yourself, one last question burst through your lips.

‘Is Eddie your real name?’ You immediately regretted your entire life, couldn’t believe you had done that. ‘I’m so sorry, just ignore me. I don’t know why I said that–’

But Eddie beamed. He took your hand in his. ‘As real as anything tonight was.’ and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles. He started walking before your wrist even hit your hip.

You couldn’t watch him walk away, so you closed the door and your eyes before he went too far. A minute later, you cursed to yourself.

The whole aftercare thing- You never got to ask if he was ok.

Fuck.

the end.

thank you so much for reading!! if you want more of where this came from, check out my masterlist. - also made a lil playlist based on this fic, told through taylor swift songs

and please support your (not so) local creators by liking AND reblogging.

I would love to know what you thought of the story, so please consider leaving a comment, or maybe an ask or even an anonymous review ;P

you are also more than welcome to join the taglist. right here.

Eddie (smut, 18+) taglist part 1:

@spiderrrling @theglitterymess @dorianelizabeth @theletterhart @niyahwhoreworld @fopdoodle1624 @pastel-abyss-x @ghoulsgraveyard @lovesickollie @xbreezymeadowsx @ssanjuniperoo @nxrdamp @meaganjm @mischiefmanagers @capybergara @brother-lauren @h0sh1verse @ghostlyreads @croweaterr @ladyapplejackdnd @bilesxbilinskixlahey @kbakery @lizzylynch1 @liltimmyst @hellfire-state-of-mind @escape-in-time-x @sweetpeapod @the-a-word-2214 @eddiemunsonbby @mydearzero @overthewhiteclouds @wroteclassicaly @groupies-do-it-better @celestialsxturn @hoe4eddiemunson @inanausomewhere @scoops-harrington @fluffyharrington @billyhargrovesprincess @annikin-im-panicin @kaitieskidmore1 @yesv01 @princess-aries

#eddie munson #eddie munson au #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #fanfiction #imagine #fanfic #fic #smut #escort!eddie munson #escort!eddie

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fairyhaos · 9 months

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❍ the 2k event: mingyu + tuxedo

vote for this fic in the poll!

alternative title: the wolf and the fox

pairing: mingyu x gn!reader

genre: spy au, club au, strangers to lovers, sexual tension

word count: 1220

warnings: slightly suggestive themes, illegal business, drugs mention

event taglist (send ask to be added): @slytherinshua @rubywonu @pepperonijem @amxlia-stars @weird-bookworm @hannyoontify @my-moarmy-heart @suminsfav

If there is one thing about his job that Mingyu despises, it’s going on undercover missions.

Not that he’s not good at it. Oh, no—Mingyu is one of the best, and he knows that, but sometimes he wishes he could have a simple, in-your-face fight with their enemies, rather than having to slink around and don fake smiles and fake personalities and stab people in the back.

“So, who’s the target this time?” Mingyu mutters to himself, smoothing down the lapels of his tuxedo as he eyes the rest of the aristocrats mingling around in the dimly lit room.

His earpiece crackles. “You’ll know them when you see them,” Wonwoo’s smooth voice replies.

Mingyu rolls his eyes, looking around in disgust as the richest people of their nation get high in this illegal drug party he’s infiltrated. “I need more information than that. Come on, I know Seungcheol trusts me, but I can’t find our target with my gut instincts alone.”

“Mingyu.”

“It’s not like I’m a bloody psychic or anything. Am I meant to go round and asking everyone for their names? Because there are a lot of people here. I don’t think I can do it. It might take forever.”

“Mingyu, come on, Cheol already told you. The less you know, the better.”

Mingyu scoffs. “Yeah, and I still don’t get it. How can less information help me on this mission? I don’t get it. Wonwoo, can't you tell me anything? Just one small detail? Pretty please?”

“Alright, just shut up,” Wonwoo says, and Mingyu can hear his eyeroll. He grins triumphantly. “I’ll tell you their name. They’ll introduce themselves as Y/N.”

“Wha— you’re going to give me a name? That’s it?”

“That’s all I’m allowed to give you. Good luck.”

“Y/N?” Mingyu says, lost. But the line has gone dead, and he huffs in annoyance, tapping his earpiece. “Wonwoo, come on, who’s Y/N?”

“That would be me,” a soft voice says from behind him, and it’s a wonder he hears you above the clamour of the club, but there’s something commanding and attention-capturing about your voice that makes him turn.

You’re standing right next to his elbow, having somehow managed to slink up to him undetected where he sits by the bar.

“Y/N,” Mingyu says, and gives you a once-over. Your eyes are bright, smile mysterious and deceptive, but there’s nothing that gives you away as a potential target. But then you smile wider, a brilliant flashing of teeth, almost predatory, and he grins.

“Were you looking for me?” you ask, voice still deceptively soft, like you’re playing a game that only you know the rules of, and he decides that he’d indeed like to play your game for a while. A long while, in fact. Enough to figure you out, and then some.

He slides off the bar stool, reaching for your hand and brushing his lips against your knuckles. “Mingyu,” he introduces, looking up at you from where he’s still bent over your hand, lips quirking up into a smirk. “And I’d love to have a dance with you.”

And so that’s what you do.

You manoeuvre him into the centre of the floor with ease, and the music is thumping and the lights flash in a brain-aching way, but the two of you sway gently as if it’s the most romantic moment in the world.

Mingyu’s still trying to size you up, trying to identify the threat, trying to see if he’s meant to get you on their side or make an enemy out of you immediately. However, before he can say anything, anything to gauge who you are and what you want, you look down at where his hands rest on your waist, and then back up at him through your lashes.

“I think we’d make a good pair,” you say, flashing that brilliant smile again. “You and I. We’d work together really well.”

He tilts his head to the side, momentarily losing his focus as you lick your lips slowly. As if you want to eat him.

“Would we?” he says after a moment, and your smile widens. “In what way?”

There are a thousand innuendos there, and neither of you are blind to that. He expects some crude joke about positions and bedrooms, as would be customary of the vulgar aristocrats who frequent this place, but you reply with something rather different.

"Well, we will be like a wolf and a fox," you say, smoothing Mingyu’s suit shoulders and tugging at his tie cheekily.

Hm, Mingyu thinks. Like partners in crime. And he’s not unaware of the way you had said “will”. As if this was something that would happen in the future.

Well. Mingyu certainly wouldn’t be against that.

"Oh? And who will be the wolf and who will be the fox?" Mingyu decides to humour your interesting talkings, allowing you to pull him forward, grinning.

"Let me think," you hum, a smirk on your face as you fondle the folds of the tie before your eyes trail up to flutter at Mingyu. "I think you'll be the wolf."

Mingyu’s hands wrap more tightly around your waist, chuckling at the small noise of appreciation that leaves your lips. You’re still swaying across the floor, but the loud music has faded from your ears. It’s just the two of you and the electricity crackling in a protective shell around you. "And why is that, my dear fox?"

Your smirk grows. "Well, you're the bumbling one. The large, burly figure, perhaps not the smartest, but by God are you smoking hot."

Mingyu chuckles, and he’s not even hiding the fact that his gaze is trained on your lips. “Smoking hot, am I?”

"Hmm, maybe," you tease. "And me, well… I’m sly. Smaller, sneakier, and yet still devastatingly beautiful, am I not?"

You lift up a finger to trace Mingyu’s jawline, and he leans even closer, eyes searing.

"You are a sly one, that's for sure," he murmurs. Your scent is utterly intoxicating. Mingyu closes his eyes as you wrap your arms around his neck. It takes everything in him not to bury his face into your neck, or smash your lips together, or press you even closer against him and never let you go.

But before he has the chance to do anything at all, you’ve disappeared, and Mingyu is left holding no one, only the faintest scent of your heady perfume being left behind.

Mingyu opens his eyes, dizzy and disoriented, looking round the hazy club for where you might have gone. He sighs in frustration, stuffing his hands into his pockets and attempting to reach for his phone before finding—

He huffs, letting out a dry chuckle as he turns out his empty pockets. "A sly fox, alright," he murmurs. "How bold of someone to steal from one of the renowned figures of the spy world," he smiles to himself, dangling your golden necklace from between his fingers, slightly-too-small silver rings adorning his pinkies.

Y/N is an interesting person, that’s for sure.

Mingyu’s earpiece crackles again.

“Mingyu? Did you find Y/N?”

Mingyu stares off into the distance, where your figure has disappeared, a slight smile on his face. “I did.”

“Good. Because they’re going to be your partner on this next mission.”

“W— my what?!”

423 notes · View notes

wolfjackle-creates · 4 months

Text

Ghost!Robin Arc 2 Part 1

Happy WIP Wednesday! Ghost!Robin was the clear winner of last week's poll. Check out this week's poll if you want a say in what gets posted next. For any newer followers who aren't aware, the entire dinner scene has been written. I'm still working on getting it cross posted to AO3, though. That's going to be my next focus (once I finish editing the last chapter of The Two Ghost Motel, my EctoImplosion fic).

Story Summary: Jazz and Jason have been dating for a while. Long enough that it's time to meet the families. So a dinner at Wayne Manor is set up. Danny took great pains to manage all his Ghost King responsibilities so nothing ghostly would interrupt the meal.

But he wasn't expecting to see the ghost of the dead Robin hanging off Jason's shoulders.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.4k

-----

Jason stared at the ceiling and counted his breaths. Next to him, Jazz’s breathing evened out as she slipped into sleep. Every time he let his mind wander, he saw the ghost grinning back at him. Signing with Bruce and Dick. Hugging Alfred.

Trying to take back his place in the family.

And of course everyone responded well to him! Bruce always hated the ways he’d changed since his death. And the ghost looked to be everything Jason had once been. Green shaded his vision and he grit his teeth.

A glance at Jazz, her face soft in sleep, made him let out a quiet breath and ease his way out of bed. A light in the living room proved he wasn’t the only one awake and, for a moment, rage burned hot in his chest. Why did Jazz’s brother have to come to Gotham and fuck everything up?

But he pushed that thought away. Danny hadn’t broken anything. Just revealed that Jason was even more broken than they had thought.

He stepped into the light and froze again when he saw the ghost sitting in front of Danny. The two looked over at him, silent.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he grunted.

Danny huffed a laugh. “It’s a lot. Especially if you haven’t grown up around this stuff.”

Jason glanced back at the ghost and felt the pits rumble under his skin once more. They hadn’t been this active in years. Not since well before he’d met Jazz.

But there was a ghost who looked like him, was him if Danny was to believed, and he was trying to take over Jason’s spot in the family.

He let out an angry huff of air.

Only for the ghost to roll his eyes and sign for him to get over himself.

Jason was throwing a punch before he was even aware, only to almost fall on his face when his hand passed right through the figure. Who decided to point and laugh at him.

Jason scowled and made his way to the window. “I’m going out. I’ll be back eventually.”

“That… might not be a good idea.”

He paused, one foot on the window frame, and asked, “Why the fuck not?”

“It’s just… Robin’s tied to you. He can’t be too far from you and with the power I gave him, I don’t think he can turn invisible again yet.”

Jason growled and pulled himself back from the window and slammed it shut. He glared at the ghost. “Why the fuck do you have to come in and ruin my life now, just when things are starting to work out?”

The ghost, of course, glared back and signed that Jason had ruined his existence first by pushing their family away. All the while, he was making angry-sounding chirps and trills that had Jason bristling even more.

Then Danny was between them, holding out his arms. It felt like something was pushing down on his anger, trying to ease the pits away. He tensed, not trusting the feeling even as he couldn’t help but give in.

“Okay,” said Danny. “Clearly there’s more strong feelings going on here than I first expected. So, um, should I start explaining what I suspect now or should we wait for Jazz to wake up?”

Jason sat on the edge of an armchair, still tense, and waved him on. “I want to know what’s going on.”

Danny nodded. “So I’m no doctor. We’ll have to go to the yetis for real answers, but I can start with the basics.”

“Yetis?” Jason couldn’t help but ask.

Danny blushed. It tinted his skin green. He’d blushed red earlier, what did the change mean? “The yetis of the Far Frozen,” said Danny. “They’re the doctors I mentioned earlier. Their leader is named Frostbite and he’s been helping me out since, like, six months or something after I died. They’re the experts in part-dead, part-living biology simply by taking care of me. I don’t even think the fruitloop knows as much as them, no matter how much he likes to pretend.”

Jason closed his eyes and took a breath. Sometimes talking to people not trained in giving reports by Batman was a test of patience. He decided to let the fruitloop comment go. It didn’t sound like it’d be relevant to what he wanted to know—at least not yet. Maybe he could find out more and get a second opinion after meeting these Yetis. “So not only will you be taking me to another dimension, you’ll be taking me to a place called the Far Frozen where I’ll be looked at by yetis.”

Danny shrugged. “Yeah, basically. Jazz mentioned you liked to read. If you like, I could take you to the Ghost Writer’s lair after. He’s got a library that contains every book ever written and many that never got published. I’m not allowed in it after an incident the year I died, but he likes Jazz so I’m sure he’d let you in if you promised not to damage any of his books.”

Now Jason was staring for an entirely different reason. There was a place like that? That he could just go to?

A questioning trill made his attention snap back to the ghost and he tensed again.

“Yeah, Robin,” said Danny. “You, too, of course. Can’t bring Jason somewhere and not you, after all! Especially since you’ll both have to be present for the medical examination.”

Jason grit his teeth and forced himself to not flinch at Danny’s use of the name “Robin.” He refused to take his gaze away from Jazz’s brother and ignored the sounds the ghost was making. “When will we go?” asked Jason.

“Soon as Jazz wakes up, if you want. No reason not to. And there’s a few things I’ll have to do in the Realms anyway. I was expecting to be away a single night, not however long this”—he gestured between Jason and the ghost—“will take.”

“But they can fix me, right?” asked Jason. He needed the answer to be yes. That ghost couldn’t be allowed to ruin the fragile peace he’d established with his family or the life he wanted to start with Jazz.

To his frustration, Danny just shrugged. “I’m not a doctor, Jason. I don’t know what they’ll find when they examine you. But they’ll know more than anyone else in either this dimension or the Realms.”

“But you have suspicions.”

“I do.” Danny took a breath. “Remember the sensor? Actually, let me just pull it up now.” He rummaged through his bag and pulled it out.

Jason made an annoyed grunt at the delay, but didn’t say anything as the seconds dragged on while Danny turned it on.

After what felt like ages but was really less than a minute, Danny moved closer so Jason could see the screen.

“See, here’s me.” Danny pointed to a bright orange blob on the screen. “And that’s you, he pointed to a mostly purple blob, half as bright as Danny. But mixed through the purple were shoots of orange and blue. The three shades turned mostly orange as they extended from his body to a mostly blue shape. But orange and purple twined as inextricably through the ghost as it did through Jason. Danny pointed to the blue. “And that’s Robin. You’re mostly purple which means you’re liminal. And a brighter purple than I’ve ever seen outside of Jazz and my closest friends. Robin is mostly blue which marks him as an unknown ghost. I’ll be updating the system soon so he shows up as a friendly, known ghost. But what’s interesting is this part between you. You’re connected by ectoplasm that most closely mimics halfa ecto. And there’s currently only three known halfas in existence.”

“You think we’re a halfa, like you.”

“Either that or you have the potential to be a halfa. But, really, we’ll need to go to Frostbite to know for sure.”

“I just want him gone.” Jay would argue to a second grave that it wasn’t a whine, but he was glad none of his siblings were here. Or Jazz.

The ghost let out a series of angry trills and signed at him. Which Jason easily ignored by simply closing his eyes and cradling his face in his hands as he worked on forcing back the pits.

“I don’t think it’s going to work that way, I’m afraid,” said Danny, echoing Jason’s worst fears.

-----

Jason is having A Time™️. Will it get better?

I've finally gotten around to making a Subscription Post for this fic, so this will be the last update I do the tag list for. Especially since it's been so long since I've updated, I feel kinda bad tagging all of you! But if you still want update notifications, please check out the subscription post.

Tag List Part 1:

@addie-lover-of-stories @justwannabecat @gin2212 @amercurio @regonold @overtherose @readerzj @sjrose1216 @echoednonny @deeterzz @blu-lilac @number-one-jew @rowanaway-fromthisbs @vythika96 @tired-yet-awaken @themirrorghost @emeraldcorpral @all-mights-asscheeks @darkhinauniverse @blep-23 @phandomhyperfixationblog @larkcoe1 @thegatorsgoose @job-ross-the-second @britcision @lenacraft @bubblemixer @androgynouslordofescapism @purefrickingspite @leftmiraclechaos @lizisipancardo @starlight-sparks @miraculousandmore @gildedphoenix @sometimesthingsfallapart @letmesayfuxk @phoenixcatch7 @skulld3mort-1fan @abaowo @dhampir-princess @idkmrpianoman @sarina-elais @ballzfrog-blog @undead-essence @spookytragedyshark @flyingpansaurus @akintoabitch @marivictal @8-29pm @justreadingthefanfics @happybear135 @kisatamao @spoopyspoony @adorablechaos @sara0055 @screamingtofillthevoid

#dpxdc #anger management ship #jason todd #danny fenton #ghost!robin #jason feels like things are falling out of control #just when he finally managed to get himself settled #and happy #so he is not having a good time #what will frostbite think of his situation?

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helaelaemond · 9 months

Text

Before The Storm - Aemond x sister!reader

Pairing: Aemond x sister!reader

Word count: 3.6k

this was the second winner in this poll / osferth fic that also won the poll

Summary: Alicent and Otto have decided that Aemond will be used to broker an alliance with House Baratheon. As the only unwed adult child of Viserys, First of His Name, a betrothal with Aemond One-Eye is a commodity bound to secure alliances for the wars to come. Fuck the wars to come, though.

Aegon might be your husband and king, but it is Aemond that belongs to you.

Oral sex (male receiving, female receiving), penetrative sex, elements of possessiveness, jealousy, canon-typical incest, slightly nasty sex, little brother isn't so little anymore

Content warning(s): mentions of child marriage/rape (very brief), brief mentions of Lucerys' death

Rating: E

Tag list: @sylasthegrim / @arcielee / @myfandomprompts / sorry I forget who might want to be included

You keep your head down as the Small Council leaves the meeting chamber. Past you walks Lannister and Wylde and Orwyle. Beesbury is dead. Cole killed him, everyone knows it, but Mother protects him. And he protects you, you know. When Meleys had erupted from the depths of the dragonpit, he had shielded you with his body and had been ready to sacrifice his life for yours. He can be a cruel man, but he loves you. Just like Grandfather.

Just like Aemond.

The men in your life are not good. But they love you. Selfish though it is, that's enough for now.

You enter the chamber and find your brothers there, your mother and grandfather, too. Ser Criston keeps his place behind the queen. The dowager queen, that is.

"My dear, sit down," Grandfather says quietly. You take Orwyle's seat opposite Mother. It's strange to see Aegon at the head of the table now. At least he doesn't wear the crown now - it had looked so strange on him.

Aegon and Mother are talking. "... matter which, so long as it's one of them. Let him choose."

Alicent frowns. "It should be the eldest, as is tradition."

Aegon smirks. "And what if the youngest is prettiest?"

"The youngest is but thirteen-"

"Plenty of girls are ready for marriage at thirteen."

"Don't be obscene."

Aegon laughs, and shrugs. "My own wife was not much older."

Aemond taps his finger slowly on the wood of the table. You look at his long hand, his elegant digits, and it gives you butterflies. He hasn't touched you since the coronation, but he's looked. Gods, he's looked.

You slip into the seat next to Grandfather as he watches them talk. Opposite you, Aemond avoids your gaze.

"It should be the eldest," Grandfather agrees. You don't look at anyone but your younger brother, but you listen closely.

"But what if he doesn't like her face?"

"Her face is of no consequence; it's her father's forces we want, as you well know, Your Grace." The sarcasm with which Otto spoke the last phrase is lost on no one at the table. Aegon's expression sours.

"I suppose he can always fuck her from behind if she's ugly," he says spitefully.

Alicent looks down at her lap in despair. "Gods, Aegon."

You stare at Aemond. Understanding what they're talking about makes you want to shrink into nothing, to disappear between the cracks in the floor. Aemond is to have a wife. A wife.

"When do you wish for me to go?" Aemond speaks at last. He looks at Aegon with his own good eye, his expression blank.

"Tomorrow will do." Some of the bravado leaves the king when he shares a gaze with his little brother. "Take Vhagar, not a ship. She speaks louder than any of us."

Aemond nods stiffly. He looks between Grandfather and Mother. "Aegon will have Storm's End, and I will have this girl."

The smile that your brother gives Aemond is more genuine now. When he is truly happy, Aegon is quite pretty. It's a shame he refuses to find happiness, then, for the most part. Perhaps his Flea Bottom girls get to see that smile more than you. "Thank you, Aemond. Truly."

He's punishing you, you think. Your spiteful, inattentive husband is punishing you for finding your own happiness.

No one in the chamber has paid you any mind yet, but when you stand up and the chair loudly scrapes against the stone, all gazes are on you. The pressure of it makes your cheeks flush. Say something. Anything.

"Congratulations, brother," you say stiffly. Not that. "I wish you luck in the wars to come."

You sweep out of the council chamber as quickly as you arrived. Only Grandfather calls your name, but you ignore him. Panic swells in your chest. Only when you arrive back in your chambers od you allow yourself to cry.

"Sister?"

There is a secret passage that connects your rooms to the maze of corridors hidden in Maegor's Holdfast, and over the years, you and Aemond have learned it well. Through a concealed door behind a bookcase, he peeks now.

You sit cross-legged in your windowseat as you look across the city beyond the castle walls. A hundred thousand lights flicker under the night sky, orange against the ink of night. Atop the Hill of Rhaenys, the dragonpit looms mighty and foreboding. Your dragon is in there with Aegon's. Vhagar makes her lair on the coast, or in the Kingswood. She comes and goes as she pleases without restraint.

Aemond walks closer to you.

You wonder where Vhagar is tonight.

"You cannot ignore me forever."

"Why not?" you ask quietly. Don't look at him. Don't cave. "You're to have a wife soon. She will give you all I cannot."

Aemond's long strides bring him to your side in an instant, and he kneels before you. Taking the patch off his eye, sapphire and purple bear into you, you can feel it. It makes your skin prickle. "You give me everything."

"Not everything. I do not give you my hand. I do not give you children."

"We don't know that," he murmurs. "The babe in the cradle may be mine, we do not know."

You sigh. "That's the first time you've admitted that in so many words."

"Perhaps tonight is a time for firsts."

You snort. "Like proposals?"

"I begged Mother, the day she betrothed you to Aegon, to let it be me." He squeezes your hand. "I begged her, and Father, to let us wait until I was older so that I could marry you. You know this."

"You didn't try hard enough."

He kisses the back of your hand, your fingers. "I know. I know. Forgive me, sister. Please, please."

You pull your hand out of his and stand up, flitting over to another window and out of his grasp. He rises to his feet and watches you. He licks his lips and glances down in shame.

"Everything will change, Aemond."

"No. No, it won't."

You hug your arms around yourself. "It will. You'll have a wife." Anger suddenly boils in you. "A fucking wife! And what will I be then? You'll set me aside for some Westerosi bride who will give you trueborn heirs and her father's army and-"

Long strides bring him back to you and he takes your face into his hands. He forces you to look at him. The sapphire glints in the light of the fire. Shadows make his scar even deeper, rawer. "Look at me, sister."

All air has gone from you. You're powerless under him. Your eyes meet his.

"I'm yours, and you're mine. I will never love another as I love you."

"You don't know that, Aemond."

"Only a Targaryen can love a Targaryen." His voice is rich and warm, heat simmering beneath the surface. "That I know."

"For now."

He wraps his arms around you possessively and pins your body to his. He is tall and lean and strong against the softness of your curves. He has his place against you. "Forever.'

"You will swear yourself to a stranger and you will bed her, too. I will have to share you."

"As I share you now," he practically growls.

"That's not fair," you protest. But then his hand is in your hair and pulling it to turn your head to the side. His lips press against the slope of your neck and you bite back a sigh.

"No, it's not fair. Our brother gets to bed you and hold you and kiss you without worry."

"And I hate him for it."

Aemond gently bites over your pulse. "As do I."

"Perhaps when you bring your bride here, you can give her to him as a distraction while you have me."

He moves his lips to your ear and darts his tongue inside to make your knees weak. "You want that? Your husband to give my wife his bastards while I give you mine?"

Your fingers dig into his shoulders. He won't have you that easily. "Is that all I am to you? Some mare in heat for you to breed?"

When Aemond pushes you against the stone wall, you grip his sharp jaw and press until his lips open. When you spit into his mouth, he swallows gratefully. "You're everything to me," he groans. "Do that again."

"Aemond."

"Yes, sweet sister?"

"When you marry her, and when you fuck her, think of me."

His jaw is slack when your hand moves to his throat. "No."

You tighten your fingers slightly. "No?"

"I won't debase you like that."

A small noise comes from your nose that is close to a moan. You fumble with the buckles on his leather jerkin while he pushes your heavy dressing gown off. Underneath, you wear only a linen shift, thin enough for him to see your nipples peak. Since your children have come, your body has been much softer, wider and suppler, than before. You wondered, once, if he would desire you less now there is more of you. But it was nothing to worry about; as the years have gone by, Aemond's need for you has grown more and more desperate.

An addiction.

Before you can even push the leather off him, his hands are clutching you. He runs them up and down your back as he kisses you. His lips and tongue are wet and needy, coating yours with his taste. The pressure of his tongue against yours always makes you dizzy, and when it fills your mouth, you cling onto his waist.

"No one compares to you," Aemond whispers against your mouth. You swallow his moans gratefully.

"I want you to fuck me even when you're married."

The words are mumbled against his kisses, but he hears enough to understand. Letting you go only for a moment, he turns you to press your front to the stone wall, and he traps you against it with his body. Strong hands find yours, and he covers them as he pins them either side of your head. Trapped, all you can do is drop your head back against his shoulder.

"I'll never stop," he promises against your ear. Sharp teeth bite it, and familiar lips press below it. "I can't."

"Good."

"Keep your hands there," he tells you.

You're tempted to disobey him, but you don't want him to stop. His touches are firm down your sides, and when you lean back against him, he presses his hands between your chest and the wall. Aemond grasps your breasts and squeezes them, rolling them in his hands. Between his fingers, your nipples are caught, and the stimulation sends bolts of pleasure between your thighs.

"This is mine," he whispers. His long nose runs up the side of your neck and into your hair. It's so like his, almost silver. The blood of the dragon runs thick. It's in you, and it's in him.

Baratheon blood will not come between you.

"And what is mine?" you ask breathlessly.

Aemond groans softly. He slips so easily into High Valyrian, and the words roll off his tongue naturally. "Mirre yno, mandia. Qogralbar, mirre yno." All of me, sister. Fucking all of me.

"Pār ivestragī nyke emagon jemome, lēkia." Then let me have all of you, brother.

Hearing you speak the tongue of your ancestors always makes him hard. When you were younger and in the same lessons, it had made him blush, and sometimes he had to excuse himself when you practised - especially when you got fluent. How few things change. Except this time, he doesn't leave. This time, he moans out loud.

You turn around and force him against the wall this time. His jacket hangs open, and you fumble with the laces of his breeches. Inside, you find his familiar warmth. "Issi ao qopsa syt nyke?" Are you hard for me?

Aemond drops his chin, pleasure washing over his face. "You don't have to do that."

"Let me," you plead. "You never let me."

"You're worth more than this."

"Jaelan naejot sylutegon ao, ñuha jorrāelagon. Kostilus?" I want to taste you, my love. Please?

"Qrugh." Shit.

And then Aemond's hand is in your hair, and he's guiding your head closer, and you sink to your knees worshipfully. His cock is so pretty, you think. Pink and flushed, a thick vein running up the underside. You trace it with your tongue, a feather-light touch that has him tilting his head to the side. He doesn't let you suck his cock often. Sometimes, you practice on the wooden cock he gave you on your nineteenth nameday. It has a sapphire buried in the hilt.

"Ah, mandia." Ah, sister.

You wrap your hand around the base of him to hold him steady, and your lips seal around the tip. You swirl your tongue around his head; it's impossible to hold back the moan at the back of your throat when you taste the salt of his skin, smell the musk of his body. Tomorrow, a stranger will have claim to this part of Aemond. But for tonight, he's all yours. You suckle on the head and it earns you praise from your little brother.

Not so little anymore.

The taste of him fills your mouth. Your hand strokes his length and you remove your mouth only to gently pull back his foreskin. The tip of his cock is flushed and shining. Looking up at him, you press the flat of your tongue against his slit. His one good eye rolls back.

"Gods, sister."

"Gaomagon ao hae bona, Aemond?" you ask coyly. Do you like that? You kiss down his length, and press him against your cheek in careful slaps. His cock jumps in your hand, and you smile.

When your mouth takes in his balls, he groans and his head drops back against the wall. You stroke him as you suck him, setting a rhythm that he ends up matching with his hips. It's beautiful, the way Aemond lets go with you, how he trusts you. In his most intimate moments, it's you he needs.

"Sister, stop, stop, I'm-"

You release his balls from your mouth, heavy and wet, and look up at him with shining eyes. Gripping the base of his cock, you watch him as he pants and his face constricts. "Come on my face," you tell him with a heavy gaze. "Show me you own me."

He shakes his head. "I can't."

He thinks it's dirty and debasing, he's told you before. But you want his filth tonight. "Please," you beg shamelessly. "I want it, brother. Please, give me your seed."

His cock twitches in your hand. His body wants it so bad, you can tell. The muscles in his stomach are so tense, and his breathing is laboured. He's fighting it.

"I want it so bad," you whimper. You kiss his flushed head, and you lick the seed that has already leaked there. "Please. Please?"

"Sister," he groans.

You're wet between your legs just from sucking him. It's such a treat to be allowed this that you don't know how to be sensible anymore. Suddenly, you kneel up and pull off your shift. You spit on his cock, and with one hand you hold his base hard to stop him from finishing, and with your other you coat him. He's wet, now, when you press him between your bare breasts. Your fingers catch your nipples as you hold yourself, and you open your mouth to lick his tip.

"Oh, gods," he swears. "Fuck, I'm- I'm-! Sister, I'm-!"

He gives you what you want. As he fucks your breasts, he comes with a strangled cry of your name. Seed shoots from him in hot spurts and it splatters across your chin and nose and chest, some sticking to your hair. He paints you, and it makes you feel drunk on love, on power. This is magic of the old freehold, the blood of the empire. He's your god, and you're his queen.

Aemond is still shaking from his orgasm when he falls to his knees and claims your lips in a deep kiss. His seed is passed between your lips and tongues, rubbed into your noses and cheeks. He tastes slightly sweet under the salt, warm and familiar. You fucking love it.

His trousers are still around his knees when he lies on the flagstone floor and pulls you atop him. Now this is a treat that is often indulged - where he is hesitant to let you use your mouth, he is desperate to use his own. He wastes no time in pulling you to sit astride his face. Your knees are either side of his ears, and your thighs are his crown. Whilst his mouth takes care of your cunt, his hands never remain still. When he kneads your breasts, you lean back and brace your hands back on his thighs. He moans so prettily between your legs. You like it best when he licks and sucks on your wet folds but holds his head still enough for you to find a rhythm on his nose.

His perfect nose.

Aemond can barely breathe under you. It's his heaven. You grind down as his lips carefully pull on your folds and his tongue swipes between them, devouring you. His nose catches your clit with well-practiced movements. Long fingers play with your nipples, and it makes you crash around him. Your whole body shakes as you come, the silence of your open mouth scarcely hiding from Aemond how hard he's had you.

After, you undress him and push him onto the bed you've shared with him countless nights before. He fucks you hard. He starts behind you, pounding into you relentlessly, but it's not enough. Aemond likes to watch your face. So then, he pulls your legs to the end of the bed while he stands and fucks you with a hand around your throat. His seed is still on your face and in your hair. In a moment of depravity, he catches flakes of it dried on your skin between his teeth and lets them dissolve on his tongue.

But tonight is about you, too. About reminding him that his wife be damned, he's yours. Aemond Targaryen is your love, your property. And so you pull him on his back and settle on top of him.

"You belong to me," you tell him in a low voice. His cock is red and pulsing as you grind it between your cunt lips. His fingers dig into your sides. "You'll always be mine."

"I swear it. Yours. Please, sister. Be good to me."

When you grind up his stomach and reach behind to hold him in place, he groans again. You hold each other's gaze as you guide him back inside you.

Your heart leaps every time he slots into you like this. It's the one true place that is home. "I'll always be good to you, Aemond."

And then you fuck him, hard. He pulls on your hair and you slap his face, and he drags his nails down your back and you suck on his neck until bruises flower. Proof of your ownership. Proof he's yours.

His high collar will hide it tomorrow, until he undresses. Then his Baratheon wife will see. Perhaps she won't understand, though, if she's a maiden with her virtue. She'll learn soon enough, though.

Only a Targaryen can love a Targaryen.

Neither of you even think about stopping to let Aemond pull out. When he quietly whines your name and his stomach tightens and his chest turns red, you encourage him and chase him into oblivion. He finishes inside you, and you feel his spend fill you. With his cock in you and his fingers pressing hard against your clit, you follow quickly.

You see stars, you see fire, you see storms. You see him.

You collapse onto his chest and sink into a state of nothingness.

After a while. the feeling of him returns. He's soft inside you now, keeping himself warm in the depths of you. His hands are stroking patterns on your back, and his cheek is against yours. You can feel his spend leaking from you. No, you think. Stay inside me, give me his child.

"Stay," you murmur quietly. "I command it."

"I will stay until dawn, if you'll have me." Aemond kisses your cheek.

You nod. With a wince, you carefully lift your hips and he slips out with a wet noise. When you roll off him, his strong arms stop you from going too far, and he hugs you close to him.

"Nothing will change," he whispers after a moment of peaceful quiet. He rests your foreheads together. This close, it's impossible for you to see him properly. All you can really see is the blurry glitter of the sapphire.

"Everything will change, Aemond."

"No," he insists. Sleep is coming for him "I would sooner have a dead wife than one who stops me from loving you."

"Do not jest."

He kisses you sweetly. "It's no jest. You are my priority, always. I will take a wife, yes, but she will never come close to you."

"That does not mean you should joke about killing her."

"It is no joke, sister. If she tries to come between us, she will die."

When Aemond leaves the next morning, Aegon is proud, and Grandfather is hopeful. Even Mother smiles. Only you watch with a blank stare.

When he returns, it is not news of a dead wife he brings you. No wife at all, actually, but a dead nephew.

You have to hide your smile. It is a fair exchange.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #mine

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sunandflame · 10 months

Text

An Angel in Human Form

Warnings: It's so tooth rotting fluff, thats the only warning I can give.

Word Count: 1458

Pairing: Photoprapher!Kyojuro x Reader

A/N: As the poll has decided here is the second part of Kyojuro as a photographer. I really love how it turned out and I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did! I also wanna thank my beta reader and editor @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi ❤️

Part 1 (drabble) / Part 2

"Can I see it?"

He looked at you with his big owlish eyes. "What?"

"Can I see the pictures you took?"

Oh. Now he understood. A foreign anxiety spread through him, and he didn't know how to deal with the situation. He wasn’t usually speechless, rather the opposite was often the case, but now - he could only stare at you.

"Did you not take some of me earlier?" You cocked your head while giving him a soft smile and he could feel the heat in his cheeks again. Nothing like this had ever happened to him and he was usually not the shy type.

"Yes, yes I did!" His voice was boisterous, and he bit his tongue, hoping he didn't startle you, but the opposite seemed to be the case. You smiled patiently and shifted your gaze from him to his camera.

He stood next to you to show you the pictures on the small screen. The sudden closeness had his throat tightening up. "Wow... These are beautiful. I like how the light falls here and how you captured the mood..."

"My photo exhibition is in 2 weeks! I would be very happy if you could come." He almost shouted at her and rummaged around for a small invitation card that he’d actually wanted to give to his friend Tengen today - but that could wait as he could get him another later. "All you have to do is show them this card and they'll let you in."

You took the card and read the name on it out loud. "Kyojuro Rengoku..." His name on your lips sounded like angelic dream and he wanted you to repeat it, but you simply looked up. "I promise I’ll come! But I have to go now, so have a nice day!" You gave him a bright smile before turning and walking away. He looked after you and at how the wind blew around your white dress. Kyojuro was unable to move, still awestruck from the beauty of your smile.

2 weeks later...

Kyojuro was nervous and Tengen wasn't used to see his friend in such a state. "Hey calm down. You will see, your exhibition is going to be flamboyant!"

If only it were that. It had been 2 weeks and in those 14 days he hadn't spent a second not thinking about you and your beautiful smile. It probably didn't help that there were three big pictures of you on the wall. One was how you were having a friendly conversation with a homeless man who too seemed stunned by your beauty and the other was how you crouched down, petting a stray cat with a gentle smile, and let her ensnare you. The last picture was the first he shot of you. How the wind blew your hair and you tried to stroke it away from your face with a gentle movement. These pictures of you turned your inner beauty outwards. Pictures that showed what a kind nature you were. The portraits were hanging side by side with the caption 'An angel in human form'. That might have seemed a bit exaggerated, but not in the eyes of Kyojuro, because that was what Kyojuro saw in you and these pictures, and he wasn't ashamed of it either. Of course, there were other pictures in his exhibition. Pictures of traditional Japanese still life, and kendo and sumo fights that showed the beauty and simplicity, but the eye-catcher was the three pictures of you.

Several hours had passed since the opening and there were still no signs of you. The hope in Kyojuro that you would eventually come was slowly fading away since there was only half an hour left. He was talking to someone when he heard a familiar voice. His head jerked toward the entrance so quickly that someone might think that he twisted his neck, and he couldn't believe his eyes.

You were wearing a red dress that gently caressed your hips. Your hair in an improvised updo wearing a subtle makeup. He took in every detail of you, inhaled it and saved it for eternity like his photographs on the walls. All the doubts he had before vanished. He saw your apologetic smile towards the security man while you searched desperately for the invite card in your purse, which he had given to you 2 weeks prior. It seemed that you couldn't find it, but you remembered the address and his name all this time?

"She is a VIP guest of mine." Kyojuro stepped in and signaled the security that he can let her in.

"Oh hello!" Your face blossomed into a sunny glow when you saw him, and he felt his heart leap at this sight.

"You made it. You came." It was like the sight of you in that beautiful red dress took his breath away.

"Yes of course!" You took a step towards him giving him a big smile. "I promised you, didn't I?"

Kyojuro looked at you in surprise at first before giving you a gentle smile and reaching out to take your hand. "Yes, you have." You took his hand and felt the warmth he radiated. His hand was so comfortable and big that you didn't want to let go. Kyojuro showed you around and you studied his works enthusiastically. You were amazed by the beauty he captured with his lens. Tengen watched his friend from afar and gave him a thumbs up and wink while he took care of the rest for Kyojuro so he could spend time with you. It was good that you came late, there weren't many people left and you had all the time in the world to look at his works in peace.

"You are so talented! I love how you captured the beauty of the people and the environment. Is that you in that Bōgu, by the way?" You stood in front of the photograph with the kendo warrior and stood in front of it for a while. He wondered how you came up with that because the kendo mask made the warrior anonymous.

"What makes you think that?" He chuckled. He didn't want to answer you right away.

You moved and gave him a mischievous smile. "I can't quite explain it. It's maybe the stance of the person. It's very-" You stopped mid-sentence, your gaze past his face at the three large portrait of yourself.

Kyojuro turned around to see where you were looking at and immediately felt the heat in his cheeks. Shit, he hadn't considered how you might feel about this and now he felt bad. What if you didn't like it? What if you thought he was a creep? His heart was pounding, and he wasn't sure what to say or what to do. He watched you nervously as you approached the pictures with slow steps, looking at them with wide eyes. You were silent for several moments and Kyojuro was getting more and more nervous. "I-"

"Is that how you see me?" You interrupted him as you turned your gaze from the pictures to his golden-red hues.

"How I see you...?" For the second time in his life, he wasn't sure what to answer. And only you brought out that side of him.

"You really see me as an angel in human form...?" Now it was your cheeks that blushed.

A stone fell from his heart. He walked up to you and took your hand in his. "I don't just see you like that, you are one to me. The first moment I saw you." He lifted your hands to his lips and kissed your knuckles gently. The blush that shot up your face was so adorable in his eyes; he wanted more than to kiss your hand. You looked at him and bit your lower lip, unsure of what to say.

"Would you like-" "Would you like-?"

You two had been talking at the same time and all you could do was giggle. "Would you like some miso soup with sweet potatoes? I know a good place not too far from here."

"I love sweet potatoes!" His smile radiated such warmth.

"Me too! I could eat it every day" You laughed at the coincidence.

He leaned towards you. "How about we go now? I am starving."

"Can you leave exhibition?"

"Yes, that's no problem." He looked around for Tengen and nodded to him. The tall man seemed to understand and just grinned.

You watch the two of them and smiled from ear to ear. "Then let’s go." Your hand didn't let go of his. "I'm Y/N by the way! I thought you should know."

Kyojuro couldn't help but laugh. "Your name even sounds like that of an angel!"

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bambiraptorx · 2 months

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Welcome to Not Quite Hidden AU. This is a poll-based story. Word count: 504

There are many things that Draxum isn’t a fan of, and small children and grocery shopping are among them. Not that he hates either of them, of course, it’s more of a mild dislike than anything else; something that must be dealt with occasionally but can generally be ignored. Annoying as both of those things can be, they are a part of life.

Combining them, however? Rather more than a mild dislike at this point.

He pins his ears back under his helmet and grimaces as he tries to compare the cost of two boxes of crackers and ignore the shrieking from the aisle over. Someone has been letting their horrid little offspring run rampant for the past ten minutes, and if they don’t do something Draxum will. A supermarket is not the place for kids to be running around and playing tag, much less for screaming! If one of them even gets close to him he’s going to—

A small giggle alerts him to the presence of one of them. Oh, great, they’ve infiltrated this aisle too. Once the others catch up to this one, it’s going to be nothing but noise.

Something tugs at his train. “Mister? Whatcha lookin’ at?”

Draxum twists away, yanking the fabric away from the small hands and glares downward. “None of your business, you little—”

A small green face stares up at him, pouting slightly. It’s a young turtle, wearing little more than an oversized tunic that still doesn’t quite manage to escape the rips and tears of being forced over such a spiky shell. He has a good deal of spikes, actually, small reddish points scattered across his shoulders and arms and larger ones on his elbows.

Titan above, the boy looks like one of his.

The child stares at Draxum, his eyes flicking back and forth, and suddenly brightens. “You have arm sharpies too!”

And yes, Draxum does have spikes on his gauntlets, but that does nothing to explain why this turtle looks so achingly similar to what Draxum’s would have been at this age. Might have, really, he doesn’t know for sure.

“Raph! Raphie! Raph, Donnie’s it now!” Another child barrels around the shelves and all but skids behind Draxum. This one’s a turtle as well, with a smoother but more decorated shell and small yellow splotches across his face and limbs. Draxum’s breath catches. Another, so similar too? How is that possible?

He’s about to ask them a question—clearly they know each other, and he’s always hoped that at least one of his specimens might have survived somehow—when a short ferret yokai turns the corner, two more small turtles trailing behind him.

“Boys, where did you go? I told you not to run off again—” his semi-desperate call trails off as he catches sight of Draxum.

Draxum stares at the other turtles—a softshell, and a slider. Exactly like his own. There can be no doubt now, these are Draxum’s turtles. But how did they all make it out, how are they all here?

Info:

I decided to try a new format for an au. This is going to be something of an interactive, choose your own adventure type story. Also it was originally based on this post lol. Feel free to ask questions if you're curious!

#rottmnt #rottmnt au #not quite hidden au #my writing #rottmnt baron draxum #rottmnt splinter #turtle tots #rottmnt fanfiction #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #also yes splinter is a ferret in this au and not a rat #poll

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prsfphone · 2 years

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volatile | t.r. x reader

word count: 1596

warnings: nsfw, penetrative sex, dirty talk, light degradation, breath play

a/n: this is the fic that won the poll last week! waaaay back. i also had no idea how to end it. sob.

he stroked his hand across his cock, fingers shining from where he’d had them buried in your sopping cunt and if there were anything you wanted to say, well, the only thing that came out was an agonized whimper as his free hand traced against the skin of your inner thigh, your leg propped on his narrow hip.

you probably shouldn’t complain, though, you knew. it was so rare that you got to see tom naked and, oh, how lovely it was when you did. alabaster skin, pristine and almost glowing in the dimness of his empty dorm.

it was a shocking contrast to go from the glowing marble of his skin to the unknowable, black depths of his eyes, swallowing every drop of light that might have made the mistake of touching them—swallowing you.

your heart was pounding in your throat and you were aching between the thighs and thought you might throw up from how nervous you were. the juxtaposing whirlwind of feelings was jarring and you hardly knew what to do next—dizzy with the headiness of opportunity sitting before you.

you rarely got to see tom naked—and by rarely, you meant never. you’d seen glimpses of his chest when you had your head in the crook of his neck as he held you against the wall of whatever empty room you’d dragged him into and fucked you between being an annoying twat of a prefect and his next class. you’d seen his forearms when you happened to stumble upon him late at night in the library, and there he was, buried to his shoulders in books with his oxford’s sleeves rolled up. and you’d felt his cock more than you’d ever actually seen it.

so your surprise when tom charmed you into his candlelit, empty dormitory was palpable. so was your suspicion—you’d heard those rumours about tom and that girl last year. not that you believed them—and really it was so silly to be scared of him now, when he’d had you all alone previously and done nothing but make your legs shake.

the thoughts were lingering with persistence but the misgivings were hard to hold on to when he smiled at you—all straight, white teeth and a dimple on the side and nearly nothing in his eyes—and tugged you forward to sit closer, against his abdomen, just above where his cock was hot and heavy and begging for your attention.

“what’s the matter, sweetheart?” he cocked his head, curls flopping onto his forehead. one hand slithered up your chest to rest against the skin over your heart. blood pulsed in your ears and nearly drowned out the rest of his words; “do i make you nervous?”

you shivered palpably against him, into him, and he chuckled when you lied and told him no. “such a little liar,” he chided with a disappointed shake of his head. his face was blank but there was an air of smugness surrounding him. “and you know how i feel about liars, don’t you, my pretty girl?”

“i’m not scared of you tom,” you asserted, brows furrowed.

a serpentine smile pulled at that graceful mouth. “now, who said anything about being scared?” he leaned forward now, nosing at your jaw, your throat. he bit down, hard, and you gasped, tried to jerk away—but there was nowhere to go when tom was holding you so close, so tight. “because there’s a stark difference.” he carved a path, leaving marks, all down your throat to your chest, back up to your shoulders.

you tried not to squirm against him. tried to ignore the throbbing pulse between your thighs that he’d ignited (and had yet to do anything about). “they’re synonyms. why does it matter?” you couldn’t think of a single reason that it did with his mouth trailing fire across your skin. with a start, you remembered you had hands and managed to catch him by the jaw with the both of them. you drew him back and stared into his eyes. “why are you wasting your breath on semantics instead of kissing me?” the words came out breathier than you intended—no longer airy and teasing; now husky and challenging. begging.

your hands snaked down his stomach, to his trail of hair, until you found his cock and wrapped a hand around it.

for all his bravado and firm, unshakable confidence—well, he gasped awfully loud as you traced the pads of your fingers whisper-light up and down the shaft of him and his fingers dug into your hips, more than hard enough to bruise.

“kissing?” he finally managed. he sounded distracted—thoroughly distracted. his cheeks were burning bright red and you smiled.

“mmm,” you hummed, lifting yourself up over him, lining him up with your entrance. “among other things.” his head kicked back with a loud, painful-sounding thud against the headboard as you sunk, inch by inch, down on him. as he pushed, bordering on painful, into you, through you, another broken, sobbing moan fell out of your mouth.

“oh my god,” it was both prayer and vindication.

“fuck—yes—sweetheart, just like that—so tight—” he was babbling and it was admittedly the way you liked him best. he hit his head again when you lifted up and sunk down on him again, faster this time. you did it again and again until your thighs were burning, aching, and you were so close—so close you thought if he even moved you an inch you’d come.

“tom, i can’t,” your forehead was pressed against the jut of his collarbone and his chest was heaving.

“poor little slut,” he cooed, breathless. he pulled you down flat against his chest and flipped you over unceremoniously. “want to come so bad but can’t even do it yourself. need me to do it for you. pathetic.” he was hovering over you now, face so close you could taste his breath, and something about the way his sweat-slick body slid over yours, across it as he picked a much more brutal rhythm than you’d been able to manage sent you careening. you pulled him down by the neck hard, scrabbling for something to tether you to the bed while he sent you into orbit.

he ripped your hands away from his neck, thrusts never faltering, and pinned them high up above your head, stretching you taught while he pressed his pelvis hard against yours. with tom so close, so very tight to your body, every thrust made him brush up against your clit and nipples. the friction was overwhelming and, at the same time, mere background noise—static—when he stared at you like that. when he moved just like that. he swallowed every sound in a sloppy, endless kiss while tears ran down your cheeks and into your hair.

“it’s too much,” you cried.

he laughed. his eyes were insatiable. he devoured everything you had to offer—and then took some more. “aw sweetheart, i’m just giving you what you wanted. you wanted to come so bad. why are you being ungrateful, hmm?” his words sent shivers racing through you and he groaned loudly when you squeezed around his pistoning cock.

“tom,” you gasped his name.

his free hand found your throat and the two of you pressed even closer as he used only his knees to hold himself up. his thumb flicked across the skin at the side of your neck. his thrusts turned from frenetic to slow. pointed.

no—purposeful was the word you were looking for.

he nipped at your earlobe. laughed again, a low, deep sound that rumbled through his chest and into yours. “sweetheart,” it was both chastisement and taunt. “squeezing around me so fucking tight—are you close?”

a neurotic chant of yeses spilled from your open mouth.

“i’m ruining you, aren’t i, pretty girl?”

“oh my god—yes!—tom—please!”

“say thank you.”

you tried—half-heartedly, and he knew it. he moaned, tipped his head back. the hand around your throat tightened. tightened until breathing was hard, then harder, and then impossible. your hands grabbed at his. pulling, prying, to no avail. your face felt hot. your stomach was in knots. your lungs burned and panic threatened to envelop you just as deeply as pleasure—maybe the rumours were true. maybe this was how tom had killed that other girl—

“learn your manners and i’ll let you come.”

but he held your throat tighter and all you could manage, painstakingly, was to mouth the words:

thank you.

his lips quirked in that smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “good girl,” he praised. he didn’t let go. “such a good little slut for me.”

air came rushing back but you barely felt it around the orgasm finally tearing through you. you panted and flailed and wondered if tom had broken something inside of you. the waves came and came and didn’t stop and maybe if you’d been present enough, you’d have felt the way tom squeezed your wrists hard enough to bruise black, the brutal final thrust before he spilled inside of you.

the world felt bleary and there was a cleaned-out feeling in your chest like you’d run hard and fast for a good while when the waves abated. tom had pulled out of you and was laying with his head on your chest. you were already sore and without thinking, began carding your hands through tom’s mussed hair. a shiver ran through him at the contact. it almost made you want to laugh.

#tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle smut #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x yn #notsfw #harry potter fanfic

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uravitypng · 9 months

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𝐈 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

pairing: denki kaminari x reader, (hanta sero x reader)

word count: 4.5k

content warnings/things in part three: everyone is oblivious to everyone's feelings, jealous/needy denki, shopping at the beginning but i'm not specific on describing exactly what been brought just that it's slightly shorter than what the reader would typically buy, reader's social battery drains quickly, reader has some resentment towards jirou and only ever calls them jirou sfdhhsvjg, written with a chubby reader in mind (smut in later chapters/+18)

a/n: i hope you all enjoy part three, this is the longest part so far and i'm not really sure if i like all of it but i think i do! i'm so excited for the this series to carry on. let me all know what you think about this chapter!

i talk too much summery: it's terrible when you're in love with your best friend. it's terrible that he's in love with someone else.

<< previous | next >> | masterlist / polls for this chapter: 1st & 2nd

In a weeks time is the charity gala event that's held every year for heroes and if someone doesn't go it certainly looks bad on them. If they're not on patrol or wrapped up in hero work they should be there, especially if they're big names or retired big names. You may not be the number one hero but you're noticeable and you're a big enough name to make it a problem if you didn't turn up which is not the best for you. Every year is the same, spending hours picking and trying on outfits only to wear once, a smile plastered on your face all night that makes your cheeks hurt when you get home, heels so high you feel as tall as Mt Lady and this year is the same problem.

Denki already has a car hired to take you both to the event in case either of you want to drink and because he knows you walking so far in heels would likely be a disaster.

You've been fretting for days now about the gala, you still haven't brought a dress for the night and shopping for clothes really does not bode well for your self esteem. You prefer buying clothes online so you don't have to go to stores and try clothes on but sizes on websites can sometimes be wrong and they look different than advertised.

You know you shouldn't compare yourself to your friends and your colleagues but you can't help stop yourself, they spend so much money and time getting ready in comparison to you it makes you stand out when you think you don't look as good as them or you don't spend hours doing your hair. You care about your appearance at these events but they make your esteem plummet, you always think your friends look better than you, dress better than you and look more desirable than you.

Now you don't want to people to get the wrong idea, you don't really care about desirability, actually you care very little about it but it might make Denki do a double take for once, maybe he might even do a double take and make a flirtatious comment. That's the kind of desirability you want. You don't wish to become on a list of the hottest bachelorette pro heroes, if anything you want to only be considered 'hot' to a few people but to the rest of the world you want to be called something different, something other than desirable. You want to be called a pro hero who's amazing at her job, especially in away missions, a pro hero that if you hear a commotion and see a crime taking place down the road you spring right into action even if you're not on duty. Just referring to you as desirable would be a disservice.

But for some reason, with this gala, you agreed to let Mina help find you a dress and you're already regretting it as she calls you after she's finished work asking if you're ready to go shopping. You had no idea she wanted to go today and you were so close to cancelling. You couldn't help it, it's like being thrown into the deep end but not only can you not swim but you're also allergic to the water. Having no time to prepare to get in the right mindset to go shopping definitely put you on edge but you agree all the same knowing that you've got to get it over and done with and Mina might not accept the decision of you cancelling and drag you out anyway.

"Hey! Ready to go shopping?" Mina calls as she see's you.

"Not particularly."

She laughs at your reply, "that's my girl. Lets go! I have a couple styles in mind."

Mina's already brought what she's going to wear, she brought it months ago but when you asked for help she dropped every plan that she could possibly cancel to help you. You've never asked her or anyone else, for that matter, to help you shop for clothes before so she couldn't help but be excited at the prospect of helping you choose something amazing.

She has a plan in mind, something you're comfortable in, she loves you and she wants you to feel comfortable but she also wants you to feel confident. Luckily Mina still gives you some control of the situation, letting you decide the store. There's only a few shops around that cater to your size so you visit the one you like most.

Two hours later you're still in the dressing room, surrounded by expensive clothes that are mostly in black, because 'everyone looks good in black', as Mina keeps passing you new ones to try. You reluctantly stay until you find one. You like it, in fact you love it but if you said that out loud you might change your mind about it. It's slightly more fitted than the ones you typically go for and it shows slightly more skin. It's out of your comfort zone for sure and something you'd definitely not pick to wear without Mina but you're glad she came along.

Tonight's the night of the gala and Denki's waiting in the living room for you and he's so very close to knocking on your door to see if you're nearly ready but he knows that would not be a good idea, you'd be sour all night and would stay away from him so he waits as patiently as he can.

When you come out the room he's so very glad he didn't rush you. The dress you're wearing is different to what he's used to and what he expected you to wear. Seeing Denki's reaction but not recognising his look on his face you assume the worse and pull your dress down as low as you can. After seeing this Denki rushes out to reassure you, "you look lovely 'doll. You ready to go?" It's rare that Denki compliments specifically your appearance or outfits. Fiddling with your fingers and shifting from side to side you answer, "Thank you, Denks. You look lovely too. I'm ready, are you?"

Denki really does look nice. He's wearing a black notch lapel suit meaning the suit has a triangular shape V because of the sewing of the lapels into the collar of the jacket. He's not wearing a tie but he's wearing cufflinks, if you look close enough you can see that they're the ones you brought him when you all left UA, they're silver circles with a yellow lightning bolt on them.

He holds out his arm for you to take and with a cheeky smile on his face asks, "ready mademoiselle?"

Accepting his arm, "ready monsieur."

Arriving at the gala gives you other reasons why you dreaded it. This year there are more camera's outside than normal and you wonder why. It makes you anxious, you're use to the camera's you just don't like them. Denki places his hand on the small of your back and falls in step beside you, in doing so calming you down and giving you security. You dreaded the noise and how busy it was. You started scouting the hall, looking out for any of your friends, maybe even catch up with your old classmates.

"I found people, let's go." Still holding onto the small of your back he guides you through the crowd. You were already on edge with the surroundings and all those cameras but then your mood drops as you spotted where he was taking you both, right to Jirou. There was more than just Jirou there, but you knew that's why he's going over, not because Hanta's and Ejirou's over there, both of you see them all the time, and it's not because Yaomomo or Katsuki and Ochaco are over there either, it's for Jirou. He complimented you at the beginning of the night and your stomach fluttered with butterflies but now you'll have to watch him flirt all night with someone else, someone who neither of you have seen in so long so it's awful to think about how much he'll be talking to her and about her in the following weeks.

"Heyo," Hanta calls when he see's you, making you grin wide as he holds his hand up for you to high five.

You perk up at his anticts at high five him back, "Heyo."

There's a collection of greetings from everyone. Momo complimenting your dress and you saying back that Mina helped you, Uraraka saying she missed you as you hug her.

Bakugou saying he didn't he sees you all the fucking time, causing you to smack him lightly on the back of his head while grinning. "Don't be like that that Katsuki." He scowls at you and makes a dismissive sound before calling you a dumbass.

Denki exchanges pleasantries with everyone, you were too wrapped up in your conversation with Kiri and Hanta to even notice that he hadn't flirted or made any kind of comment towards Jirou at all.

"You look beautiful," Kiri says earnestly making your heart warm.

"Yes, you look very hot. I'm liking the dress." Hanta adds on.

You chuckle, "thank you Kiri and when did you become such a creep Han."

"I'm simply making an observation," Hanta replies causing you to try, and fail, at controlling your laughing volume sounding a lot louder than you intended to be.

Hanta looks good too, all your friends do.

Bakugou's wearing his hero costume colours in a suit, his hair slightly more tamed and he has pencilled eyeliner on his lash line like his mask, you'd put money that his publicist from the agency made him wear it all.

Most of your friends have gone with their hero costume colours with Ochaco wearing an all pink flowy dress that goes down to her ankles, Kiri wearing a suit similar to the one he wore at I-Expo, Momo a red fitted dress and Jirou wearing a longer dress catered to her aesthetic, but Hanta, well Hanta looked really good.

Hanta was wearing a cool dark grey tone unstructured blazer his dress shirt had the first button undone. How someone can look this good but keep it simple, classy and somewhat casual in formal wear is beyond you.

Denki watches you make conversation with Hanta and his jaw clenches as he wonders why you're talking to him when there's people you haven't seen in months or close to a year, yet you're choosing to talk to Sero who you saw earlier this week. Is this why you're wearing that dress? For him?

Denki wants your attention, wants you to focus your attention back on him. "I'm going to get us drinks. Do you want to come?"

You were about to decline but you feel him hold your wrist loosely in his hand and you look and see an expression on your face that you know too well, it's the look that he gives you when he wants you to agree with something so desperately. His 'puppy dog eyes' look. You don't speak for a second, all the background noise fades away as you try and understand why he wants you to come with him so bad and that's when you connect that he's standing next to Jirou and something might have happened or someone might have said something insensitive to him.

He pulls your hand a bit and lowers his voice, "please."

"Of course Denki," you nod. "I'll follow you anywhere," you tell him softly and honestly. Your heart starts racing as you realised what you said. You've said stuff like this to him before and you always mean it truthfully, you'll follow him anywhere. You'd follow him to the end of the world and knowing your luck it could happen. He can be so oblivious, like with how you truly feel towards him that he might not even notice he was at the end of the world until you pointed it out to him. You hope that Denki can't feel your pulse racing while he's holding onto you.

He doesn't notice, he's too relieved that you agreed to go with him, that you chose to go with him instead of staying with everyone else, instead of staying with Sero. "We're going to get drinks, we'll see you guys later." Before you can say your goodbyes he's gently but firmly pulling you to the bar. You want to make a joke about his haste to get away from the conversations everyone's having but you don't know if that would be appropriate with whatever he's feeling right now and with whatever happened.

He drags you to one of the stools and orders your favourite drink. "Are you okay Denki?"

"Just peachy," he didn't mean it to sound sarcastic, he didn't mean it to come out at all. He wanted to tell you that he's fine, to assure you that with you next to him he's having a good night but he's vexed and frustrated.

"Did...Did something happen Denks? With Jirou? Or... Um something else?" You wearily question.

He turns his head around to face you so quickly it's a wonder how he didn't get whiplash. "Why would something happen with Jirou?" He looks quizzically at you, having no idea why you're bringing her up.

You became equally confused as you see his expression. "I thought maybe something happened and you wanted to get away from her." You take a sip of your drink, using it as an excuse to look away from him.

"Nothing happened with Jirou or anyone. I just wanted to spend time with you," he says while running his hand through his hair, you look up just in time to see him and cuss him out in your head for looking so attractive.

If you were anyone else you would have asked him further questions but you're use to this by now, his confusing statements that always leave you wondering why he wants something. If you were anyone else you would have wondered why he didn't want to spend time with any of the others or spend time with Jirou, the girl he's mad about. Instead he wants to spend his time with you when he see's you every single day but by this point you're use to it. When he says random things and constantly wants your attention, really living up to the 'puppy dog eyes.'

"Let's live together."

"Are you sure you want to live with me Denki. I mean we've got enough money to buy our own places." he convinced you that living together would be the best decision you would ever make, it was.

You were tidying up the house one day when Denki came up behind you scaring you. "Come shopping with me." you put your hands on your hips and turn to face him.

"Now why on earth would I do that Denks, it's your turn to go shopping."

"It's no fun without you though." you agree but grumble about how it's his turn and you're going to both go together next time. he happily agrees like that was part of his plan all along.

you hear clutter in the living room as Denki's searching for all the takeout menu's. "let's order in tonight."

"I've got a date remember.

"Yeah I do but he's ugly and I'm better. Pizza?"

When you and Denki went to watch a film at the cinema, you run into Eijirou and you stopped to talk for awhile, arranging to all hang out later tonight as you were all free. Denki flicks your hand. "pay attention to me."

Denki casually tells you, "if we're not married by the time we're 40 we should get married," causing you to spit out your tea. "Two pros getting married will boost both our ratings up like crazy, the look on our parents faces when we tell it's a publicity stunt though will be interesting, pretty sure my parents like you better than they like me. Mina and Kirishima are planning to do the same thing."

"Bold of you to assume i'm going to make it 40." You chuckle.

You don't see the angry look on his face as replies, "you better."

You giggle, "you just can't live without someone paying attention to you every hour of every day." In a normal setting your heart would be bursting out of your chest but you knew he didn't mean what he said, it surprised you but after you got over the initial shock it was fine. He's just been listening to Kirishima too much. Plus both of your ratings are good enough as it is and there is already speculation of you both together.

"You'll stay with me right?" Denki takes a sip of his drink and looks hopeful at you.

"All night." You respond before stealing his drink and tasting it, scrunching your nose in disgust, "Denks, this is gross."

You stay together alone for the majority of the night at the bar before you decide it's probably in both your best interests to mingle. The whole time Denki stays attached to you, staying by your side.

It's now getting late and you start wondering if it would be appropriate for you to take your leave. The gala hasn't ended but it could be on all night for all you know. You've seen some heroes leave but Denki's next to you smirking at a joke Mic said and you have a feeling this is going to be a long night.

You're trying to keep up with everyone, with Denki, but it's hard with your social battery draining. You excuse yourself from the conversation to go to the bathroom, although it's just an excuse for you to take a deep breath and be away from all the noise and chatter.

After a couple minutes you head back out of the bathroom and go out to find Denki when you hear Hanta calling your name. Before you can comprehend what you're doing your legs walk and you go to Hanta. He's standing on his own which is surprising, due to the charismatic and social butterfly he is.

"You look tired."

"Gee, thanks Hanta. Did you call me over just to say that?"

"Oh snappy aren't you? I didn't mean it as a bad thing, I promise. I'm just surprised you're still here that's all."

"Well I'm surprised you're here alone." You reply, you know you're being short with him but you're just so drained and it feels like he's teasing you.

He doesn't take any offence to your tone and short replies.

"Actually I was with Midoriya but I left when I saw you to come talk to you."

"Oh." you mumble.

"You look super drained, why haven't you gone home yet?" He questions gently as to try and let you know he's coming from a place of caring and he's not teasing you.

"Denki's having fun." You nod your head to where he is, where he's animatedly telling a story to Hawks.

"Hmmm, do you want me to take you home." Sero leans closer to you. He's so tuned in on your feelings and your needs, he always just knows.

You look up to see him softly smiling at you, "you look really nice tonight Hanta."

He chuckles and pulls you closer so you're leaning against him. "Thank you pretty girl, but that's not what i asked is it?" he strokes your knuckles with his thumb as he mumbles under his breath about how you're too tired.

"You really would take me home Han? You're having a good time though." you ask quietly, not sure if you want to go home but if you were more awake and socially aware you'd be calling Hanta your saviour right now for the offer.

"You're more important. If you want me to take you home I will."

Neither of you are aware but you're being watched, if Denki saw you he'd come marching up and drag you away but he's so invested in the conversation he's having that he doesn't know where you are. The people who do see however are Katsuki, Mina and Kiri and that's not the best people to see because right now Mina is jumping to every possible conclusion.

Mina may be the worst person to see this innocent act other than Denki but at the same time Kirishima is hardly any better as he's thinking about every interaction he's seen you two have together and every word you've spoken about each other. Katsuki is the one telling Mina to 'leave it alone', 'it's not a big deal', 'it's probably nothing' and to 'forget about it'. He makes a quick glance around the room trying to spot Kaminari. He knew you and Sero were close but not this close. He thought that you and Kaminari have been dating for years and have been lying to everyone who asks about it. Dating as a pro was hard so he just assumed you two kept it super under the radar from everyone, including your friends. He never pushed either of you on the subject.

"Bakugou, there's no way there isn't something going between those two! Of course it's a big deal and of course I'm going to talk about it! Do you think they're dating or that they're just into each other?" Mina whispers loudly and excitedly. "Oh my god! She asked me to help her buy a dress, do you think that was because of Sero?" She directs the question to Kirishima knowing that they live close together and he's more likely to entertain her questions.

He doesn't want to get involved in you and Sero's relationship, it wouldn't be manly of him but he does wonder why neither of you have never mentioned anything to him before. He thinks about Kaminari and how it gives him a weird feeling. By the way you're leaning against each other now right now and talking close so that only each other can hear he has to admit it that it does look rather intimate.

"Don't forget guys, they're both always very touchy with people, not just with other." He's trying to rationalise it and you do always touch Kaminari and fall asleep on Sero and hug Mina, but when Sero leans down closer to talk to you it puts Bakugou and Kirishima on edge, Mina is ecstatic for her friends but Bakugou and Kirishima are now hyper-aware that Kaminari is in the room.

You look around the room trying to find Denki. "Want to wait for Denki."

Hanta straightens his posture and takes a deep breath but you're none the wiser. "Are you sure? He might be here for hours. I don't want you to collapse out of exhaustion."

"I'm sure Han," you whisper. "I'll.. I'll, wait for him. He shouldn't be too long. Thank you though, you're the best."

Right on cue, Denki turns around and looks at you, his eyes hardens when he see that you leaning against Hanta but as soon as you see him you beam from ear to ear, softening Denki's gaze. He excuses himself from the conversation he's having and starts to go over to you. Hanta noticed Denki, "I think Kaminari might take you home, he looks pretty displeased right now."

You giggle, "he's been a bit more protective of late. I think it's because our patrol times have been different and we haven't seen each other much. Hopefully soon it will be back to normal."

"Hey 'doll, hey Sero. What are you guys up to?"

You move off of Hanta, "can we go home soon Denki, 'm tired."

Denki's heart nearly breaks as he see's how drained you are and how drained you must have been for ages. "I'm sorry babydoll, I've been so wrapped up talking to everyone. I promise I'll make it up to you, let's go home yeah?" you nod your head and wave bye to Hanta.

Denki knows he should probably say goodbye to everyone individually but right now all he cares about is getting you back home. "Can you tell everyone we left and said bye Hanta," Denki requests.

"Sure thing dude. See you guys later, get home safe."

Denki holds your hand and intertwines your fingers with his before guiding you out.

The three onlookers were still watching the interaction, all with their drinks in their hand with Bakugou and Kirishima breathing a sigh of relief, when, from the distance it looked like everything was okay between Kaminari and Sero.

"Do you think she loves him?" Mina asks as she watches you follow Denki.

"Who?" Kirishima observes you leave.

"Kaminari." Mina responds having not taken her eyes off you since you started making your way to the door.

"Leave it raccoon eyes."

"it's just a question Bakugou." Mina retorts.

Kirishima sighs as he answers, "it's not any of our business Mina."

"They're our friends Kirishima."

"Yes and because of that we're staying out of it." As they were watching they were caught by Sero, making accidental eye contact with him. Everyone quickly looks away.

Denki takes you home and on the way he keeps apologising. "Please don't say sorry Denks." You squeeze his hand that you're still holding.

He turns to you and moves some of your hair out of the way of your face and delicately tucks it behind your ear, "'doll I am so sorry, and I need to apologise. I should have been more aware and have been making sure you're okay. I know how quickly your social battery drains, especially compared to mine, I should of been checking up on you," he's looking you in the eye, you think he must be tired too because his eyes are slightly watery. He presses your foreheads together and says so quietly it's a surprise you even heard him apoligise again, "I'm sorry."

You keep the same energy as he does and keep your foreheads together still touching, "it's okay Denki, I promise. You're here now. Plus Hanta was making sure I was okay."

Denki changes position and turns his head away from you, "yeah, but it should have been me."

Come the following morning Kirishima and Mina have completely forgot the conversation they had the previous, they had too much to drink and their memory of the end of the night is fuzzy only remembering pieces. Bakugou didn't drink at all, he remembers everything. He won't say anything to anyone.

You wake up to Denki entering your room with a tray and a huge gleeful grin on his face, "breakfast in bed! Made just for you." You rub your eyes slowly waking up, "I let you sleep in but I'm off today and so are you, so I thought we could spend the day together."

You groan, "five more minutes."

"I thought you'd say that," Denki chuckles and places the tray on your bedside table, "budge up, if you're going back to bed, I'm waiting here until you do." You groan as you make room for him. If you were more awake you would be internally screaming that Denki Kaminari, your best friend and the man you love is currently sitting next to you in bed but you're already half asleep.

tag list: @xnorthstar3x @st4r-girl-official @potatoboiasta

(everyone in my tag list that wanted to be tagged disappeared? i think they deleted their accounts or something, if i find them i'll tag them, let me know if you want to added to my tag list! )

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