#again unsure if I can finish this

[saltysalmonella]

M!Shep and Garrus, set between ME1 and ME2.

[kaylazer]

back on my bullshit (meeting men im in love with). Ben Schwartz is so kind and tall :-) I didn’t totally freeze like when I met the Jonas brothers but the selfies we took are blurry so 😔

(at least I have these bc I told sam to record the whole thing heheheh)

[conflitdecanard]

A guy ?

APOLLO JUSTICE THE GUY !?

[iri-vail]

i've started taking adhd meds and this shit is insane. i can't describe how it makes me feel but i don't think i've been more well-adjusted ever in my life and it's just fucking...overnight. like, years of struggling and i take one pill and it's an instant "oh this is how brains work."

[piplupod]

epic win at old lady group today: the group leader was struggling with a tangled up loose skein of yarn, so i scampered over to the other end of the table where was sitting and offered to untangle it and wind it into a centre-pull yarn bal for her since I remembered how to do it from just the other day fjdkdl and she was very confused why i would WANT to do that but she let me :3

so i got to untangle yarn AND wind a yarn ball AND help someone i appreciate, three things i love doing - YIPPEE !!!

[perfectlyunknownn]

I'm not sure how people can just work. I find it hard it get up in the mornings, a strong pang of anxiety hits me and for the first few minutes it's so strong. It then brews in the background, taunting me.

[mirrortouchedsea]

getting motivated to work on that kaokana fic finally and i have added like 1k this week.... so much progress for me i'm so happy

[loumauve]

.

[pseudowho]

"Kento...can I...can I paint you?"

Kento glanced back over his shoulder, sleepy, to where you sat massaging knots out of his back. He didn't know why he'd bothered perusing his shelves beforehand; your hands had moulded and made him heavy, and he sunk, unbidden, his book forgotten and his eyelids made of lead, groaning in bliss.

Your eyes traced Kento's back...his arms...his hands. All ripped and reformed, broken and made stronger, the scars (both old and new), criss-crossing him, his life-story turned roadmap.

At some points, Kento's body seemed as though it would last centuries and end up in a museum somewhere, with futuristic admirers who did not know him as you did. At other points, he was just a porcelain man, full of cracks, to be handled with care lest he break.

Kento hummed; a cover-all rumble, unsure.

"...paint me?" He teased, a coy half-smile on the corner of his mouth. "Like one of your French girls?"

You laughed, kissing his shoulder blades, still stroking those seams of pink flesh with your fingertips. He shuddered, the hairs on the base of his undercut standing on end.

"Not quite...do you trust me?"

"Yes." No hesitation.

"Then just...close your eyes."

Kento huffed through his nose, leaning forwards on his elbows and clasped calloused hands. He heard you rattling around behind him, the tap running, the soft dompf of you resettling on the sofa. More rattling, and your quiet voice.

"Stay still..."

Kento jumped, shivering as the tip of a fine, wet brush licked at the skin on his shoulder blade. He hummed again, dubious.

"Oh...you meant paint me."

"Semantics."

"Bless you."

You laughed at his gentle idiocy. "Keep still."

In truth, as your brush traced idle patterns over his shoulder, his arm, and his hand, Kento didn't need to be told to keep his eyes closed even once. He meant it when he said he trusted you; and he meant it when your presence rocked him to sleep. Time lost meaning as he dozed, sat like The Thinker as you finally removed your brush from his hand.

"There. All done."

Kento opened his eyes...to art.

Patches of the back of his hand had been brushed matte with a soft jade green, fading out against peach flesh. Through the jade, where pink seams had once scored the skin, they now ran golden, liquid beauty joining the edges of his pain and history. And it was...lovely.

Kento swallowed thickly, laid bare beneath your eyes. He gently flexed his hand, seeing how the green and gold flexed with him, held together by your very own repairs. He tracked more and more patches up his forearm, his bicep, over his shoulder...

Kento was quiet, stoic, vulnerable. He whispered, as you took lamplit photos of your work. "I adore you."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Christmas had come and gone, and still, Kento did not allow you to touch him as he once did.

The air between you was as taut as the flesh of his left side. You washed the dishes, and he dried, kept company only by the hush of the taps and clink of the plates. Kento reached for a mug with his left hand, and, numb-fingered, dropped it with a spitting curse, to where it shattered beyond repair around your feet.

Barefoot, and pausing with an oh!, you lifted your foot as if to move, and Kento berated you, growling, snapping.

"Stay where you are."

"Kento, it's alright, I'll get it--"

"No. It's my mess. My fault. Sit down."

"Really, it's fine--" Your words cut off with a squeak, as one strong arm looped around your waist. Kento grunted as he lifted you out of the shards with ease, to his body, only to drop you to safety the moment your hands began to brush his bare chest.

"Sit down." Kento rumbled, dark and sullen, his one good eye glowering at you beside the patch. You prickled, rejected. You refused to sit. Watching Kento, as he finished vacuuming, your eyes drifted without thought between him, and your paint set in the chest beneath the kitchen cabinet.

On his way over to the sofa, Kento spotted you, and scoffed, hissing with pain as he dropped himself to sit. He sneered, nasty.

"Sorry, my love. Not enough gold in that box to repair me."

You gritted your teeth, your mouth twisted in disgust, tears in your eyes. You pushed your chair away in a tearful rage, and padded over to Kento, fast, determined.

The briefest flicker of alarm crossed his half-burned face as you straddled him, trapping him to the sofa with a hand on each cheek. You spat, forcing him to see you, gripping him down as he writhed to get away.

"Then I'll break into palaces. I'll rob museums. I'll be a thief in the night. Because they don't deserve it, not like you do."

Kento cursed at you, twisting like a rat in a trap, and you held on tighter, sick of being pushed away, and you forced the words out of you as tears spilled over to drop onto his chest.

"And if there's not enough gold there then I'll melt myself down, but you don't need gold because you're not broken--"

"--get off me-- let me go--"

"No." You cried, looping your arms around his neck, your core pressed to his. The air stilled, his rejection rejected.

You panted, your shoulders heaving, weeping into his neck. Kento and you sat this way in silence, the tap still running and forgotten, your sniffles muffled into his neck. You felt him soften, his hands coming to rest on your hips, stroking you.

Kento's voice was thick, agonised. "You...deserve someone whole."

"I don't want them. They're nothing to me. It's you, or no-one."

Kento's teeth bared, his face stinging as it crumpled, salty tears washing away the grief. He gripped onto you, the fracture not breaking under stress; the bond, golden.

And when you finally did paint him, how he shone.

[xemdead]

Astarion probably isn’t used to aftercare with all his trauma regarding sex / intimacy.

So imagine after the first time with you, almost immediately after you both finish, he gets up to re-dress. He expects you to do the same and leave, just like everyone has before you. But instead, you tug him back down into your warm embrace. He’s frozen, unsure what you’re doing but he likes the way you play with his hair. It slows down his erratic post coital heart, as his head relocates to your chest. Astarion comes to the realisation that he’s never actually taken a moment after sex to calm his body down before. It’s nice. You stay like this together for a while, relaxing after all the physical movement from earlier.

‘You okay?’ You mumble to him in a tired haze, ‘Did it feel good? You want some water?’ You begin to sit up, disrupting his position on your chest. For once he doesn’t reply, no flirty quips ready on his tongue. Astarion finds himself half shocked, half in awe that you care how he feels and what he felt like during the act. No one’s ever asked him that before.

You leave the bed briefly to the bathroom and return with a washcloth. You wipe yourself off then gesture towards Astarion, ‘Is it okay for me to clean you?’ You say softly, asking his consent.

He coughs, clearing his throat, ‘Of course,darling,’ he says, clearly covering up his confusion and rising nerves. ‘Are you okay?’ You ask again, repeating the question from earlier.

‘Yes, my love, I’m fine... it’s just no one’s ever done this to me before,’ he states gesturing down to where you carefully wipe his inner thighs. ‘Oh!’ You stutter ‘I can stop if your not comfortable with it—’. ‘I love it.’ he states, cutting you off. Eyes staring warmly into your own.

After this scenario happens I feel like Astarion will make the extra effort to learn proper aftercare for you, he begins to realise how important it is to check in after sex, he never wants you to feel used like he did in the past.

(Notes: sorry this is pure Astarion brainrot. Not proofread/edited. This man has crawled his way into my heart)

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x Hufflepuff fem!reader

Summary: Girls can be mean and your darling boyfriend isn't having any of it.

Prompt: Angsty hurt and comfort - "Oh shit. Are you crying?"

Warnings: slight bullying, insecurities

~ I hope you love this @livinginafantasysworld! i love YOU 💖 also this is much longer than my usual blurbs, i got carried away 🫶 ~

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

BLURB MASTERLIST

You've fallen asleep on your potions book, your hair sprawled messily across your arms as your chest rises and falls. James is too busy feverishly correcting and polishing your essay to realize you've dozed off.

"Hi, Potter," a girl's voice suddenly calls from behind him, a sharp giggling follows his name and James turns, ink stains peppering his hands as his tongue pokes out of his mouth. 

"Mhm?" 

It's Samantha—something—from Charms. She's also in Gryffindor and she sits behind him in class, constantly talking his ear off. Sirius tells him he's too nice to her and honestly, he's starting to believe him.

James peers back at you, just now realizing you're sound asleep, and he smiles fondly. 

"Are you busy?" Samantha asks, her eyes narrowing in your direction almost judgmentally.

James turns to her again, catching the look and he frowns. "I am, actually," he turns his attention back to your essay and dips his quill in the ink. He's only focused on you now, occasionally looking up from the essay to admire your sleeping form. Samantha huffs but eventually leaves you and James alone in the library. 

After another half-hour of his work and your soft breaths, James leans over, his arm sliding across the table as he rests his chin on his upper arm. He smoothes his hand over your hair, gently coaxing you awake again. He has a late evening Quidditch practice he can't miss. 

"Dovey," he whispers, his eyes loving as you slowly wake up and look at him. The pages from your potion book stick to your cheek and your boyfriend chuckles, pushing them away. "Hello, sleepy-head."

You sit up, wiping some drool from your lips and your cheeks burn. "I fell asleep?"

James hums and sits straighter, sliding over the parchment with your essay. You look down. 

"You finished?"

"Yup." James pops the 'p' and then smiles at you. "Wasn't a problem. I know potions like this like the back of my hand," he says with a wink and you can't help but smile at him. You glance at the clock and realize you've been asleep for more than an hour. 

"Sorry I fell asleep," you whisper. 

"It really wasn't a problem, lovie," James assures you with a chuckle and he stands. You stand as well as James folds your essay and puts it into your book, slipping the book into your bag and running his thumb under one of your bleary eyes. 

"I love doing things for you. What else am I here for?"

You smile, leaning into his hand. "Well, being my boyfriend doesn't mean you have any obligation to help with my assignments—especially since I feel asleep," you tell him, your tone soft and unsure.

James chuckles. "Well, good thing I don't do it because of obligation but because I want to." He kisses your forehead and swings his bag over his shoulder. "I'll see you at dinner, okay? Imma be late for practice."

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and then he disappears amongst the bookshelves. You stand there, his taste still lingering, and you've never felt luckier to have him. You touch your cheeks, checking their temperature and then you smile into your hand.

Your happiness is short-lived however because as you walk through the library, you overhear a group of girls talking about your boyfriend. 

"And James has never turned me down until now," one of the girls, a taller brunette with olive skin, says as she leans against one of the desks pressed up against a window, her friends surrounding her. She's a Gryffindor. You've seen her hanging around James and his friends a few times. You're pretty sure she's in his Charms class.

"And I knew the rumors—but I didn't think he'd actually be with her." Her friends laugh and you press yourself against a hidden bookshelf, listening in.

"Who is she anyways?"

The girl scoffs almost cruelly. "Some sixth-year Hufflepuff," she looks at her nails and then smirks, "I thought Puffs were supposed to be hard-working. Instead, he was doing all the work while she drooled all over her potion book." 

Your heart sinks and your hand tightens around the strap of your bag. 

"James deserves someone better. Someone like me—"

You hold in your tears, deciding there is no use in standing there and just listening to the rest of this girl's rant. You don't have the energy to confront her either. It isn't like you haven't thought the same things she has. 

You aren't enough for him.

He deserves someone so much better.

* * *

You're the only person on James's mind as he struts into the Great Hall. His hair is still wet from his shower but that only accentuates his curls. He's smiling happily, excited to have you in his arms again. He walks by where you usually sit with your friends at the Hufflepuff table, intending to persuade you to sit with him but he frowns slightly when he sees you already sitting with his friends. 

"Hey," he says and plops down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. 

You don't move. Your head is lowered and you're poking your fork into your chicken. James looks up at his friends, who only send him confused looks, and then Sirius mouths, "She hasn't said a word since she sat down."

When James sees your eyes, he panics. "Oh shit, are you crying?"

Your shoulders shake and James is quick. He stands and pulls you up with him, holding your wrist as he drags you along and outside into the mostly empty hall. He gently pushes you against the wall, his knee slotted in between yours just to keep you still as his hand cups your cheeks and he tries to calm your soft cries.

"Hey, hey, why are you crying, sweetheart? What happened?" 

James doesn't understand. He'd left you alone for barely three hours and now you're in tears?

"I'm sorry," you say, your voice small. James's thumb wipes at your tears instantly.

And now you're apologizing?!

"What are you sorry for, dovey?" James asks as he looks at your sad expression and his chest hurts. 

"I-I think we should break up," you whisper, your voice shaky. 

James's eyes widen and his chest tightens. "What?!"

You cry a little harder as you try to explain yourself. "I- just– you deserve some head-strong Gryffindor girl who doesn't fall asleep when you're helping her. Someone prettier, smarter, someone who isn't like me. Someone who is more like you."

James's eyes darken when he hears you. "What are you talking about?!" He looks genuinely furious as he pushes some hair behind your ear and continues to hold your cheeks in his hand.

"You're talking nonsense. Don't you dare say things like that? You are what I deserve and so much more, do you understand me?"

You blink at him. You open your mouth to protest but James shakes his head and presses his thumb against your lips, looking at you pointedly. "If you wanna break up with me, I'm gonna need a better excuse than that."

He sounds serious and then he adds, "For example, 'oh, Jamie, I lost my memory and I can't remember you,'" he pauses his very inaccurate and rather cute impression of you for a moment, "but I think even then you'll be stuck with me so you're shit out of luck, huh??"

You laugh at the humor in it all and he finally smiles. 

"There," James kisses your cheek to remove any lingering marks of your tears. "That's much better. Now, where did all this come from?"

You clutch his shirt and mumble something incomprehensible as James pulls you in and kisses your hairline, smiling against your hair. 

"Gonna have to say it louder, sunshine."

"I heard some girls talking about me, about you—about us. It just made me feel so awful." 

James's jaw tenses. He has a sneaking suspicion he knows which girls— or which girl. He has to remember to take Sirius's advice and tell Samantha to piss off when he sees her next.

It's one thing to annoy him, it's another to hurt his girl. No one hurts you and especially no one makes you feel like you don't deserve to be with him.

"Don't listen to anything they say," James says sternly, "They don't matter. I love you. I chose you a million times over." He pulls back and tilts your chin with his hand. You lean your head back on the wall and look at him, sensing the truth behind his words and finally, your heart relaxes. "I love you," he adds.

"I love you too, Jamie," you say quietly. 

"Good," he leans and kisses your lips. He pulls away again and grins, "Now, excuse me while I go make that a public announcement—" he turns to walk away, heading for the doors to the Great Hall and your eyes round.

Knowing your boyfriend, he has no trouble shouting out his love for you, you rush after him, feeling much better. 

tags: @mischievousmoony, @sayitlikethecheese, @longlivedelusion, @fangirl-swagg

[lovegasmic]

hiii! can you write heartthrob!gojo slowly realising that he finds reader attractive and has a crush??

ㅤHeartthrob !

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 cw. gn!reader, highschool au, tried to make it as Japan styled as possible, fluff and love confessions ‹3

Satoru sighs.

“how many times has it been?” Suguru asks, eying a magazine while Shoko nibbles on the edge of a lollipop stick, mindlessly staring at the sky.

“seven” she says casually, dangling her foot off the cafeteria bench table.

Satoru sighs again, completely ignoring his friends.

“eight”

what do you have that makes you so irresistible? Satoru is unsure, of course he’s seen you before, you were just a year younger and meeting you in the corridors was not unusual, sharing one or two chit chats along the way, perhaps casually helping you catch a book you couldn’t reach, you know, all things a friend does.

when did these feelings start to get worse?

used to the constant attention from all his classmates, Satoru was not the one to suddenly catch feelings, charismatic and kind is what he was, yet never felt anything towards everyone’s constant praising, why did he want to hear you praising him?

“you both are the worst”

“hm” Suguru hums, sitting next to his best friend who has an elbow on the table and his cheek resting on his palm, “you’re acting like a creep”

an exaggerated gasp comes out of Satoru’s lips, a bit of a relief considering it’s not yet another sigh, “i am not a creep!” he exclaims, hand on his chest as if his best friend just wounded his ego, even though the pose mimicked one of a gossiping victorian lady.

“yes you are, you’ve been staring at them for so long”

“my eyes happen to be in that same direction”

Shoko hums in the back, not believing a word.

“if you like them so much why don’t you just talk to them?” Suguru asks, chin propped up in his hand with a knowing soft smile.

“i don’t—”

a muffled bunch of giggles cut his words, blue eyes immediately landing back to the group of girls that approached him, all blushing and twirling their hair, “Satoru... can you help us with the decorations for the festival?” one of them asks, with wide grins and standing right in the front, obviously the leader.

Satoru hesitates, turning to look at you again but just finding the spot where you previously sat now empty, as if you held the answer.

the ninth sigh of the day, “sure”

you’re usually not the type of person to jolt up in any slightly scary situation, but finding Gojo Satoru’s face right next to yours as soon as you close the shoes locker was not expected.

he does not mention it, what a gentleman, keeping a wide grin on his face, “hi” sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, “need some help with that?” the blue eyed points at your feet and you raise a brow, looking down at the quite small bag of books you held.

“i’m fine, thank you” and if you see a pair in the farthest back, a black haired one and a brunette giggling among themselves you don’t mention it either.

“right” a slight blush coats his cheeks and looks down, resting his arm above the surface of the lockers, “so um, did you hear about the festival?”

“oh, yeah” you say, finishing to place your shoes in the locker, “i saw you helping the student committee”

wait, did you? what did you see? he wasn’t overly friendly with those girls, were he? no of course not, he’s used to the compliments and attention, but he never reciprocates any flirting, are you aware of that? what do you think of h—

“i’m quite excited” your voice pulls Satoru out of his stupor, “the gym was looking nice”

the gym..., “right! the gym, of course, not to brag but I helped a lot” he winks.

you laugh at that, and he goes speechless, mouth drying and brain stopping at the sight of your smiling face so close, have you always been so good looking...?

“do you want to come with me?” he blurts before he can even process the words, coming up his stomach and pouring out his mouth.

“to the festival?” a hint of hesitation flashes through your eyes, and Satoru’s heart clenches, “sure, I’d like that” and suddenly he does not want to disappear anymore.

“great, see you around” thanking his extremely long legs, the white haired is quick to make an exit before his heart explodes, dragging Shoko and Suguru who were still 'hiding' in a corner.

“you do know you have to wear the uniform, don’t you?” Shoko explodes Satoru’s desperation bubble with just a few words, turning to stare at his friend casually laying on his bed while playing with the dark pair of sunglasses.

“why didn’t you say that before?!” he hisses, still holding the two shirts he was previously attempting to pick in front of the mirror, “did you know about that too?” he acuses Suguru now.

the black haired laughs and raises his hands in feign innocence, “you never asked”

this time instead of counting sighs, they count how many shirts and pants Satoru pulled out of his never ending closet, rich family issues.

and right when it looked like the blue eyed was about to open another secret closet, Shoko decided to stop this never ending torture, “i can’t believe you’re my friends” he fakes a dramatic sigh and plops on the floor, somehow relieved that he didn’t have to decide what to wear for your non date.

“are you excited for your date?”

“it’s not a date!”

he was, indeed, excited, palms sweating while looking through the crowd of people gathering at the school backside where the festival was taking place, giving a few hello’s to everyone who stopped to talk or flirt, the usual.

and then he saw you, heart racing when you give him another of those beautiful smiles of yours, the ones that make him wish to kneel and pop the question, even if he was barely 18, he did not care.

“you look beautiful” you looked the same as ever, but to Satoru you looked perfect every single day.

a soft chuckle comes out of you, “thank you, you too” and he blushes again, eyes locked on you, ignoring completely the smug faces of his best friends, again, staring in the back.

and how Satoru wished it was just the both of you walking through the multiple stands, without any distraction of the people who greeted him, can’t anyone see he’s busy with you?!

although you don’t mind, or you don’t show it, but when the sun starts to set and the crowd starts to disperse he guides you to a bench away from the people, an arm casually draped over your shoulders from hours ago when he pretended to yawn.

“i want to tell you something” he starts, eyes locked on the mochi in your hands that you unwrap and guide to his mouth, making Satoru's eyes widen but quickly chew it down without trying to make you eat it, “i, um, I want to say I like you, a lot, and maybe... do you want to have a date with me?”

a very soft smile places on your lips, looking up at him, “wasn’t this a date?”

“i- i mean, well, it could... it could be if—!”

your finger on his lips quickly shuts him down, and honestly, what kind of power do you have to be able to shut him with a simple touch? “i’d love to go out with you, but I have a question”

“yes?”

“will your friends also come with us?”

[izzyy-stuff]

TXT and their smut head-canons

txt x afab!reader

word count: 400-600 for each member, 2.4k in total

warnings: use of "my girl" in yeonjun's, oral, vaginal fingering, pet names, established relationship, edging, dirty-talking, overstimulation, mirror sex, unprotected sex, plushie humping I might have missed a few things, but hopefully that's all

SOOBIN

He gets very pussy drunk, always wanting to have his head in between your thighs.

“Pretty please,” he begged, his puppy eyes staring into your soul. “Soob, it's been a long day. I am tired,” you shook your head, sighing. “You don't have to do anything, bun. Please, I just want to make you feel good.”

And just like that, you give in again, unable to resist your pretty boyfriend as he begs to taste you. You find his head in between your thighs almost immediately, sucking on your clit lazily.

He could go on for hours, not letting you go even after you cum, keeping his tongue in your cunt as he licks every last bit of your orgasm, his nose buried in your clit. “You taste so good,” he mumbles against your pussy, kissing your inner thighs, looking up at you.

Before you two started dating, and even at the beginning of your relationship, he was shy, unsure of what he could and couldn't do. But after you two had sex for the first time, he turned out to be a big pervert.

“Soob, I am working,” you complained right after he picked up your call. “Mhm, need you here with me,” he'd only groan in response, making your eyes widen as you hear the lewd sounds. He was actually masturbating and not just texting you to tease you.

You quickly hanged up on him, making sure no one heard what you did. You looked at your phone again, going to curse him out for not warning you sooner when he sends you a message first. A video attachment. You don't need to click on the video to realize what he had sent you, turning off your phone immediately. He was an asshole for texting you those cheap things and then even sending you a video while you were working.

Just like the last one suggests, he loves teasing you over the phone and sending you nasty texts, while he sometimes can't even speak properly when you start dirty-talking to him in person.

“I thought you said you'll ruin me?” You smirked, sitting on his lap, facing him, his pretty eyes wandering all over your face. “I- mhm,” he tried to answer but shut his mouth right away, unable to say anything now that you were in front of him. “What was that?” You smiled innocently, your fingers playing with his hair as you felt his cock hardening under you.

“You said you wanted to fuck all the stress out of me. And that you would eat me out well,” you reminded him, watching as his cheeks turned red. “I still want to do that,” he nodded quietly. You chuckled, cupping his cheeks as you pressed your lips on his. “Then don't just sit here and do what you promised.”

YEONJUN

He has a full-body mirror opposite his bed and knows damn well how to use it.

You sat on his lap, your head thrown back against his shoulder, moans escaping your lips. “What did I say, love? Eyes on the mirror,” he proclaimed while his two fingers thrusted into your pussy, that was already leaking with your cum. It didn't stop him when you finished, and you knew the “just five minutes, please. You look so good,” he said before wasn't even close to the truth. It had already been fifteen minutes, and he was nowhere close to being done.

“I can't,” you answered, your eyes closed. “You can. Come on. Look at how pretty you are with my fingers in you,” he whispered, his breath landing on your ear, sending shivers all over your body. “It's- too much,” you gasped as you felt his thumb on your clit. “Jjunie,” you moaned out, slowly opening your eyes just to see him smirking in the mirror, his eyes on your naked body. “God, I can't wait to fuck you.”

That alone was enough to make you cum on his fingers again. “Please, Jjunie,” you cried, trying to get off his lap. “What does my girl want, hm?” He asked, sucking on your neck to keep you in your place. You moaned at his touch again. “I need your dick, not fingers.”

“Say less,” he whispered against your skin, kissing you one more time before he took his fingers out. “But to get what you want, you need to listen to me too. Eyes on the mirror, baby.”

He is obsessed with the sounds you make when you're with him. All the moans, whines, and begs for him are pressure to his ears.

"Don't hold back." "Let me hear you, pretty." "God, do that sound again." Those were all words you heard that night and many nights before. Yeonjun wasn't the best at hiding what he liked. You always loved that, and you loved doing things he liked. You enjoyed dancing with him, wearing dresses that were his favorites, or listening with him to his favorite artists, but this was different.

You put a hand in front of your mouth as you felt like the pillow under you wasn't enough to muffle your sounds, doing your best to stay quiet. But Yeonjun had a different idea, thrusting into you even faster to make you moan for him. "C'mon, love, put that hand away," he groaned, his hands firmly on your ass, holding you up. "Please, pretty. I need to hear you," he begged, leaning closer and kissing your back.

"They are right next to us," you managed to answer without being too loud, pushing your head into the pillow again. His four band members were in the living room, watching some movie Kai was picking up as you two left to go to Yeonjun's room. And before you could realize it, you ended up on his bed, your ass up for him so he could fuck you. "Who cares? Let them hear how good I am in making you feel good."

BEOMGYU

Beomgyu refuses to admit it, but he has a favorite position. He cannot get enough of you on top of him, riding him.

You noticed a long time ago that he loves being able to see your face when he fucks you, but it was only recently that you realized what his all-time favorite position was. It was obvious when you thought about it. The way he moaned your name and watched you when you rode him was something else. It was driving you crazy.

“Fuck, you're doing so good,” he praised you as he bit onto his bottom lip, watching your boobs bounce right in front of his face, your hands on his shoulders. His hands found their way to your waist, keeping your pace steady as he leaned closer to you, his lips placing wet kisses on your breast. "Gyu," you whined, your hand in his hair now. "Just hold it a bit longer," he mumbled against your boob as he sucked on your nipple, knowing you were as close to cumming as he was.

He is a menace, teasing you whenever he gets the chance. It's simply his way of showing affection. That's also why he loves it when you show him affection in the same way, teasing him.

Beomgyu sat in his gaming chair, tilting his head as he lost another game. Everything was going against him today. "Again?" Soobin asked. "Yeah, surely we are going to win this round," Beomgyu agreed before he muted himself, noticing you walk into the room. "What's up?" He wondered, glancing at his loading screen to assure himself he wasn't in the game yet. "Nothing, keep playing. I just wanted to be here." He didn't look much into it and turned his attention to his screen again, starting the game.

But before he could realize it, you were under his desk, your hands spreading his knees apart. He glanced at you, ready to tell you he wasn't in the mood, but when he saw you, your puppy eyes looking up with your lips slightly parted, he couldn't. But he also couldn't get off the game just like that.

To his luck, you didn't mind. You didn't care if Soobin heard his whines because the two of them were on a call or that he had his eyes on the screen, trying to focus. You pulled down his pants along with his boxers, his already hard cock slapping against his tummy. You scoffed at how hard he was. You saw the look he gave you. You knew he was planning to tell you to stop at first, so it made you scoff how his thoughts didn't align with his body at all.

"Keep focusing on the game, you need to win this round," you proclaimed with a smirk on your face when you felt his eyes on you again as you sucked on his tip. "And how exactly do you want me to do that?" He asked, trying not to make any unnecessary moans when Soobin could still hear him. "Fuck," he whispered, noticing his character dying as you took his whole length down your throat. "Sorry, Soobin, gotta go," he said quickly, not even waiting for his best friend to answer before he hung up on him, moving his chair slightly to the back so he could see you clearer. "You think it's fun to suck me off while I play? God, stop staring at me like that, or I'll cum."

TAEHYUN

No matter how responsible he is, he loves fucking you raw.

"Just fuck me without one, I don't care." When he heard the words coming out of your mouth, a part of him went crazy. He stopped looking through his drawer for condoms and came back to you in no time, spreading your legs apart to take a proper look at your wet cunt. "Oh yeah? You want me to go in raw?" He teased, a smirk on his face. You glanced at him, the visible bulge in his pants making you clench around nothing but thin air. "Please," you nodded.

It took him no time to get his pants and boxers off, giving his cock a few pumps before moving closer to you, his tip teasing your entrance as he pushed your legs up to your breast. You moaned out a lot more desperately than you would want. "Tae, please," you whined, watching as his lips turned into a smirk again. "Don't cry that it's too much later. You are the one who begged for me so beautifully."

You soon find your boyfriend's cock inside of you, not giving you any time to adjust before he starts thrusting in and out of you, fast right from the start. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned out, feeling your pussy tighten around his cock even more as he spoke.

He hates when you try to tease him while giving him a blowjob, but it's a whole different story when he is the one doing it. The way you beg for him to let you cum and the way you whine under him are his favorite parts of edging you.

"Please, please," you cried, trying to close your legs. "Please, what? Hm?" Taehyun asked, not even looking up at you. His eyes were focused on your wet pussy as his fingers pushed in and out of you. "Need to cum," you managed to answer, thrusting your hips towards his fingers, but the moment you did so, he pulled them away, watching you whine again.

You tried to get your hand to your pussy and take care of it yourself, but he had a different plan, grabbing your hand right after he saw you move. Your hands were pinned above your head right away, making you whine again. "Tae, please. Need to cum," you begged him again. "Not yet, beauty. Want you to cum in my mouth."

You found your head thrown back with your hands still pinned above you as he went down on you, sucking on your clit. "Tae!" You gasped when you felt him insert his two fingers into you again while his mouth still played with your clit.

It was your last straw. You couldn't hold back anymore even if you wanted to, squirting all over his face. "Is that all you got after all this time?" He mumbled, his head still buried between your thighs, tongue-fucking you.

HUENINGKAI

Kai has an obsession with your boobs. Whenever he sees you walking around without your bra, he gets hard, wanting nothing more than to fuck your breast.

His eyes fell on your hard nipples immediately. You had just walked out of the shower, wearing only your panties and one of his shirts. He had to gulp as he shifted in his place on your couch, unable to take his eyes away.

"Everything okay?" You asked, drying your hair with a towel. "What's on your mind?"

"You are," he proclaimed, reaching his hand out to you. You smiled at him, thinking he was in his 'sweetheart mood' like you liked to call it, but you soon noticed you were wrong. When you got closer to him, your eyes automatically fell on the bulge in his pants, making you scoff in disbelief. "Please, love, just once," he begged you quietly, his puppy eyes looking up at you. You sighed, knowing exactly what was on his mind.

You dropped to your knees, slowly taking off your - his - shirt, making him shift in his place again. "You're so-so pretty," he praised you as you held your breast in your hand, his hard cock sliding in between them immediately, his tip touching your lips. You opened your mouth, licking his tip before he started thrusting into your mouth, whining at the way you squeezed your boobs around his dick.

Whenever he feels horny while the two of you are away from each other, he humps one of your plushies, moaning out your name.

"fuck, y/n," he groaned out desperately, humping your teddy bear. It was full of your scent, and that alone was driving him crazy. "Nhm- Need you so much," he continued, his eyes closed as he imagined it was you under him, his cock sliding on your folds instead of the stupid plush toy.

His hand reached out to his nightstand, almost knocking down everything that was on it in order to get to his phone. He didn't stop his movements as he opened your and his chat, texting you to come home soon. However, the text looked a lot different than he intended to. It was just a bunch of letters when you read it, but the follow-up message made you realize what was going on. "nwwd you sm plss" was the only thing he managed to write before he threw his phone to the side, thrusting his hips against the teddy bear faster.

[g0dlyunsub]

make you mine.

spencer notices that you’ve been skipping a few too many team socials.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: romantic confessions, mentions of alcohol, mental health, hurt/comfort, plenty of fluff, spencer is a huge softie

word count :: 2.3k

author’s note :: don’t think i’ve written anything where reader and spencer confess their feelings for each other?? anyways here’s to more hurt/comfort 

accompanying song :: sugar by brockhampton

“who’s up for drinks at o’keefe’s?”

a loud cheer erupts as the elevator doors open and reveals garcia standing in front of the entrance with a gleeful smile.

“count me in!” jj raises a hand and emily promptly follows suit. the two giggle as they lean in to embrace the tech analyst festively decorated with bright red jewelry.

when rossi declares the first round’s on me! the room breaks into an even louder celebration, whistles and applause sounding left and right.

moving past the crowd with a few happy chants of your own, you finally settle in your seat and stretch. sighing, you shuffle through the pile of case files sitting on your desk and stuff several into your shoulder bag. you tie up your hair and take out a pen from your pencil holder. once again exhaling with a deep sigh, you flip through the remaining manila folders, ready to document all of the evidence after today’s investigation.

“you’re coming, right?”

you crane your neck to your left to identify the source of the voice and see morgan, hands on his hips as he scans your face for your usual smile teeming with enthusiasm. you offer a feeble smile instead, shaking your head as you point to the case file you’re working on.

“i’d really love to, but… this paper isn’t going to write itself.”

“oh come on, not again. when’s it due?”

“tomorrow noon,” you mumble, gently rolling your head to the side to relieve the pain that’s been begging for release.

“you’re kidding. well, text me if you need a hand, or if you just want company.” morgan pats your back and turns around to leave, but not without first flashing you a wink. you watch as he slings his arm around garcia’s shoulder and as the rest of the team follow the pair out of the office, each giving you a wave before they disappear into the elevator.

“you’re not going?”

you turn around to see spencer, who’s just coming out of hotch’s office and holding a case file of his own. he turns off the lights upstairs and walks down the stairs, stopping once he’s in front of your desk.

“oh, um, no. i just need to finish writing this up really quickly, and then i’ll head back.”

you brush a strand of hair behind your ear and turn in your seat to get back to work, but spencer pulls up a chair beside you.

“that’s the third time in a row you’ve said no to them. you okay?”

you sit still for a second, unsure of how to respond. when spencer leans his elbow on the side of your desk, you know he’s not going to leave without an answer, so you look back at him hesitantly.

“yeah, i’m good. what’s keeping you here?”

“i just left a request to take two days off.”

“oh, nice. yeah, you seriously deserve a break,” you nod and offer a small smile. despite your friendly expression, the tiredness in your voice overrides your genuine words. before you can expose any more of your sluggish lethargy, you revert your attention back to your documents.

“yeah, and so do you.”

you turn to meet his gaze. a serious expression overtakes his usually lax face, tense facial muscles raising his brows and clenching his jaw.

you don’t know how to dispel the air of its building tension so you chuckle, playfully hitting him in the arm and shaking your head. “oh no, that’s- that’s not necessary. i’m fine, spence. besides, i took a break pretty recently.”

you rub your forehead tiredly as you speak and cock your head to the side, as if waiting for spencer’s dismissal so that you can get back to work.

“you haven’t requested a day off in 102 days. that’s 2448 hours.” spencer lowers his chin and studies you with his unwavering eyes. you feel your heart flutter alarmingly at his stare; you swallow slowly.

of course he’d be the one to count the days, no, the exact hour, since your last break. you try to play it off again by nudging him in the elbow, but he looks way too serious, concerned even. your arm hangs in the air with no warmth to latch on to.

“do you want to talk about it?” 

when spencer leans forward, you feel your throat run dry. holding your breath, you weigh your next words very carefully.

“spence, i’m fine. i don’t need the time off.”

“too late.”

“what?” your jaw sets uncomfortably when you hear spencer’s response, and a hint of amusement flickers in his eyes before he quickly narrows them.

“it wasn’t just my request that i submitted. i put in yours as well.”

“wait- wait what?” 

“yeah, hotch just wanted me to leave a physical copy for the sake of documentation. but he approved both of our requests before we even landed.”

“hold up… spence, you just… why would you do that?”

surprisingly, you don’t feel mad. yes, he’s just submitted a leave request without your permission, but maybe this is what you needed. someone to force you to take a break, because otherwise, you’d just work yourself to your death.

“like i said, you haven’t taken a leave in 102 days. constantly overworking yourself is detrimental and can lead to burnout because of the buildup of fatigue. in the long run, it can impair your memory and thinking. so,” he says as he grasps the pen out of your hand and closes your folder, “do you want to talk about it?”

as if he’s perfectly hit your pressure point, the tiredness you’ve been masking this entire time instantly unwinds. you let out a deep, weary sigh.

“you know, two weekends ago, when we went down to south carolina to investigate that case? and i stayed back for a few hours?”

out of the corner of your eye, you see spencer nod.

“well, i met up with a friend from college. we just hung out, you know, tried to catch up with each other.”

when you emit a stressed laugh, spencer reaches for your hand. he gently kneads your palm, and you take it as a signal to continue at your own pace. you turn your head to the side so you can take in the sight of him more fully.

“as we kept talking, i realized how she has so many friends, so much fun outside of her work. she’s even getting married in two months. and i just thought… i honestly wished for a second that she was a little more lonely, like me.”

you close your eyes, instantly regretting your confession. are you really making him listen to your childish concerns? you wish he’d laugh at you, dismiss it as plain stupidity and tell you that you were right to keep it to yourself. but he won’t, because he’s spencer reid.

spencer watches you intently, at how you force out a laugh and brush the tears that are welling up in your eyes. he observes the way you shake your head and refuse to look him in the eye.

“i’m so selfish, aren’t i? this whole thing–it’s so stupid. what am i saying, what am i even doing, wishing for something so foul?” your face crumples as you speak, and the words trail off into an absorbed mumble between your sniffles.

“it’s not stupid. you’re not selfish,” spencer hums quietly, lightly brushing his fingers against your cheek and dragging his thumb across your eyelashes to sweep your tears.

a strangled sob spills from your throat, and you lean into his touch, burying your cheek further into his palm. spencer waits patiently for you to recollect yourself, and coos a constant stream of it’s okay in your ear.

“at first, i thought it was the job, spence,” you finally utter your broken thoughts with a dry laugh, “but then i saw how everyone else was dealing with it. emily, jj, garcia. and then i realized, it’s me.”

spencer swivels your chair and draws you closer to him, so your thighs are lying between his legs. like a confused puppy, you let out a small yelp of surprise.

“you need to understand, y/n, that it takes time to find your rhythm, whether that’s at work, with your social life, or just a new place. so don’t compare yourself to others, because we’re all worried about something, and we’re all at different stages of coping.”

his longing glance breaches your lips, and you lower your eyes shyly. his soft-spokenness, undivided attention, and effortless verbal magic read your emotions like an open book. you don’t have to hide. the tears fall, fast and hard.

“let it all out. it’s okay. it’s always okay to cry, but you know what’s not okay? bottling it up all the time.” he pats your knees and rubs his palms across your trousers soothingly. 

“bottling your feelings constantly, it’s what psychologists call repressive coping. numerous studies have found that repressive coping has been linked to a less resilient immune system, higher vulnerability to cardiovascular disease, as well as proneness to certain mental health conditions, including anxiety and depression,” spencer continues while looking at you sympathetically with his soft brown eyes. 

slowly, you coil your arms around his neck and hold him in a tight embrace. 

“you’re not really fair, spencer, you know that?”

“what do you mean?”

“you can’t just cite all these cool facts when you speak. i don’t have an argument to toss back at you.”

spencer pulls away from the embrace slightly, and looks down at you with eyes full of mirth. he bursts into a small spate of giggles, and it’s contagious, because you also exhale a bubbly laugh.

“i can’t help it,” he breathes quietly, and the air that exits his lips tickles your eyelashes.

spencer continues to watch you with the same stare a sculptor would possess over a block of marble, and breathes warmth into your body. you finally let your arms loose and withdraw from the hug, grinning shyly.

“let me finish this report, and i’ll head back with you. what am i even going to do with the two days off anyways?” 

“i was thinking that we could check out the steam engine festival that’s happening downtown? the 611 is actually the sole surviving member of fourteen class j locomotives produced by the norfolk and western railway, and there’s going to be special excursions reserved for interested passengers.”

you laugh as spencer happily goes on his ramble, and you go back to writing your report – this time with a rejuvenated spirit.

“be honest, spence. you submitted my request because you wanted someone to go with you to this festival, didn’t you?”

“what? no!” spencer shakes his head, but your suspicions only grow when he starts fidgeting with his fingers.

“if you say so,” you grin cheekily, “but i could really use a drink tonight. you coming?”

spencer nods. he waits for you to finish up your edits and sign off the last page of the document, and helps you pack the rest of your belongings into your bag. with a boyish smile, he offers you his elbow, and you loop your arm in his. 

there’s a lot to be thankful for, a lot to be hopeful for, and a lot to love spencer for.

“spencer?” you ask quietly. spencer hums back in response. 

you don’t know why, but a sudden wave of confidence washes over you, urging you to say your next words without holding back.

“i like you.”

you thought your years spent concealing your feelings for spencer would have culminated in a much more formulated confession, but it’s too late to retrace your steps.  

almost immediately, spencer looks at you with widened eyes. you’re almost scared he’s going to abandon you and run away in a nervous flight, but he stays put, his cheeks flushing with the shade of deep red.

“y-you can’t be drunk already,” he stammers and then abruptly chuckles, making you wonder if he’s just attempted to respond to your confession with a joke.

but maybe you are drunk, drunk from the hazy feeling of love and the highs of spilling the emotional torrent earlier. you furrow your brows and fix your stare on the office floor.

“no, spencer, i like you as in i really like you. like, romantically.” 

spencer hesitates this time, moving only to press the elevator call button. you think you’ve just screwed up, right then and there, because his brows shoot up in surprise while his lips thin into a line. 

but then slowly, he smiles, his hazel colored eyes light up, and his gaze darts left and right excitedly. 

maybe all of the stars have aligned perfectly, because the air starts to collapse in on itself rapidly, and he stoops down to press a shaky kiss on your lips. it’s unlike anything you’ve ever shared with him, so different from when he hugs you, when he ruffles your hair, when he pats your back. it’s so tender and he leaves you to glow in the warmth of his lingering touch. 

it’s only after he does this that you realize that you’ve actually just confessed to your coworker, the man you’ve had a crush on for so long, the reason why you show up to work with a smile. before you can second-guess anything, spencer grabs your wrist and pulls you in. it starts with small pecks, but then he works up to a bigger kiss; by the time the elevator arrives, you’ve fully melted into his arms.

“2190 days.”

you look up to meet his blissful gaze with your own love-tainted eyes. “hm?”

“that’s the number of days that have passed since i first met you and started to work with you. i uh,” spencer swallows, toying with the strands on his leather bag nervously. 

he opens his mouth, only to shut it immediately after. he looks at you with a shy smile, the bashfulness dimpling his cheeks, and then clears his throat.

“i like you too.”

[flaggermuser]

When You Loved Me

1,209 words || Fluff, Spoilers for Season 4 Episode 4, Hurt/Comfort, GN Reader, Doctor Reader, Happy Ending, Childhood Trauma ||

Inspired by the idea that at least one doctor would have formed an attachment.

Thank you to @bisexualhomelander for being my beta

They're nearly all dead, there's just one loose end that Homelander needs to tie up.

So he stands outside the unassuming house, ready to cross the final name off his list, which he found in an old abandoned file documenting his ‘development’.

It was a stroke of luck that he found you - it seemed as if Vogelbaum scrubbed you from all official records.

Determined to finish what he's started, he knocks on your door and waits impatiently, ready to strike you down where you stand.

“I’m coming!”

He freezes, his entire body tensing up as your voice unlocks memories from his time in the lab, ones buried deep somewhere at the back of his mind.

A frightened and hurt little boy being held, being comforted after the incinerator and the other horrible forms of torture he was subjected to.

“Shhh, it's okay, you're okay. I'm here. Shall we read another story?”

The door slowly opens and there you are. 

Now that he's seen your face, the memories are more vivid. There’s still that kindness in your eyes, the one he saw every night before he went to sleep. 

At least, for a few months before you disappeared.

“Hello, John.” Your smile is still as warm as he remembers. “My, how you’ve grown. Come in, come in!”

With trepidation, he slowly enters, unsure of what he’ll find. It’s homely, filled with curiosities and everything he’s ever associated with a true American home. As he follows you into your living room, he notices some of the pictures on the wall with you and your former colleagues at Vought, some of whom he’s already killed.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“A glass of milk would be nice,” he replies, trying his best to smile while conflicting thoughts swirl in his mind.

He was so convinced that you were like the others that had you not spoken, he would have killed you the moment you opened the door.

“Well take a seat, I’ll be right back.”

He takes a seat on your couch, hands in his lap, looking around the room again. That’s when he notices the mantelpiece, covered in photos and newspaper clippings, all in ornate frames.

Not of your family - of him. They’re all of him.

Taking pride of place in the middle of the mantelpiece is a picture from several years ago.

“Don't worry John, it's just a camera. All I'm going to do is take a picture of just the two of us. I promise it won't hurt.”

He's sat on your lap, your arms around him, holding him tightly, protectively, a smile on your face.

He’s smiling too. He’s happy. He’s with you.

They took you from me.

“Here we go,” your return snaps him back to reality, his eyes softening as he notices the glass of milk in your hand and a plate of cookies in your other, settling it down on the coffee table in front of him.

It’s such a sweet gesture.

You take a seat in a nearby armchair, “It’s so wonderful to see you again.”

After all these years, you’re still this beacon of absolute kindness.

“Do I call you John or Homelander?”

“John.”

How did I forget how lovingly you said my name? How did I forget you?

“I’m so proud of you, you’ve done so well. And look at you, you’re The Homelander! Leader of the Seven!”

His lower lip quivers, trying to keep himself together but it’s proving harder. Your praise comes from a place of pure love, something he’s never experienced or at least, he can’t remember experiencing.

“I see you’ve noticed the mantel. I know I must seem mad but I’ve been following your progress.”

You cared about me, you care about me, it’s all genuine.

“You were so young when I last saw you, with that lovely little smile.”

You reach out to take his hand but he pulls away, only so he can take off his glove. It looks so small in his, he knows if he squeezes just a little, all your bones would be crushed to dust.

But he won't.

“The things we did. Oh John, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I didn’t do anything to save you. I should've stood up to Vogelbaum, I should've protected you."

Saved him, protected him - the regret is written all over your face.

They regretted their actions too, only after he reminded them. Then they apologised but it was too late for them, maybe it’s still too late for you. 

He squeezes your hand, trying to comfort you. 

“You know, I think about you every day. I wanted to reach out but I figured Vogelbaum would have any attempt at contact blocked, especially from me. All because I chose to be human.”

Human. They were human too and they tortured me.

It’s clear that is a sore subject for you, nowhere near as painful for him but the fact it makes you sad somehow makes him feel better. It shows that you cared.

“They fired me for ‘interfering with the experiment’ but how could I not?! You were scared, you were crying and they left you all alone in that horrid room.”

The bad room.

“I couldn’t just leave you there to cry yourself to sleep. So I volunteered to take the night shift. Do you remember… remember the first time?”

His jaw tightens, desperately searching his mind for even the tiniest hint of a recollection yet all of the torment he was subjected to has buried everything deeper. 

“You were terrified that I was going to hurt you, your eyes glowed red and you trembled. I knew you didn’t want to hurt me but you would if you had to.”

You understood.

“It took you a few minutes to realise I wouldn’t hurt you - I think it was the books under my arm that convinced you I wasn’t a threat.”

A single flash - “Would you like me to read you a story?”

“I sat down on your bed, you sat on my lap and we read story, after story, after story. Until you didn’t want me to read anymore, you just wanted me to hold you. So I did exactly that.”

He desperately wants to remember, he needs to remember. 

“Then Vogelbaum found out, I must have forgotten to turn the cameras off and I was removed from the project. I should’ve fought for you, I should’ve marched right back in there and demanded to take you. But I didn’t.”

But you’re here now. They’re all dead but you’re still here.

“I forgive you,” it slips out of his mouth, however, this time it’s heartfelt. He means this without malice.

You’re the parent he’d always wanted, living in a house he always dreamed of, serving him milk and cookies like he’s still that young boy you cared about.

Maybe it wasn’t too late, maybe there could be something here, born from the ashes of your past sin and his trauma.

Sniffling, you wipe away your tears, tightening your grip on his hand. When the smile returns, it’s affectionate and all for him.

“I want you to know, John. I need you to know, that you’ll always have a place here and in my heart."

[slttygeto]

SLOWLY LOVING YOU — SUGURU GETO.

જ⁀➴ synopsis: Before Yaga introduces you to the third years, Suguru is a little unsure of you joining them. And then he meets you, and suddenly his heart doesn’t know how to slow down.

જ⁀➴ content warning: fem!reader, reader gets a few cuts and faints, swearing and a lot of fluff.

જ⁀➴ word count: 4,2k

જ⁀➴ note: thank you to the sweet @duhsies for commissioning me! I had so much fun writing it<3!!

“Yaga says there’s a newcomer,” Satoru had a habit of speaking with a mouthful, which Suguru really hated. A hand is smacking the back of the white haired’s head who hisses at the contact before glaring at his best friend.

“Hey!” He protests, his sunglasses resting at the tip of his nose.

“Swallow your food.” Suguru presses, taking a sip from his drink. He had heard long ago from Yaga about this newcomer, and wasn’t really sure how to feel about it. It’s not that he wasn’t good with new people (he wasn’t), but he felt like it was a little odd to transfer someone and have them be with him, Shoko and Gojo right away. They had to have a good cursed technique, a great control of their cursed energy, otherwise they’d just get in the way of everything and—ouf, this was too negative.

Who was he to judge? Sure, a part of him was skeptical, but he was trying to awaken the other side that usually reassures him that everything will turn out just fine.

“I wonder if it’s guy or a girl,” Satoru speaks again, and this time (surprisingly) he swallows his food before opening his mouth. Suguru shrugs at his best friend, grabbing a fry from his tray of food.

“It won’t really change much, I just hope they’re good at what they do,”

“Oh Suguruuu,” Gojo whines at his friend’s negativity, pushing him but not too hard. “Don’t be such a kill joy, I’m pretty sure that they’re good. Otherwise, Yaga wouldn’t look so excited.”

“Why are you the one telling me to be nice?” The black haired male raises an eyebrow, carefully picking out a fry that didn’t have ketchup on it.

“You rubbed off on me,” Satoru wiggles his eyebrows to which Suguru rolls his eyes at.

“Don’t.” Suguru presses, but it’s too late to stop his friend’s funny joke.

“That’s a little fruity—“

“Finish your food.”

When they head back to the school grounds after having lunch, they’re pleasantly surprised when they find Yaga, Shoko and an unknown girl standing near one of the school buildings. From the looks of it, you weren’t that nervous. Sure, you were checking out your surroundings as the school was new, but nothing about your demeanor suggested that you were anxious. Not even a little.

Suguru raises his eyebrows at this, and although he tries not to stare too hard at you, Gojo is quick to notice it and nudges him with an elbow.

“Hey, think that’s the new girl?”

“I mean, it looks like it,” Suguru mumbles a response and stops walking when Yaga starts to approach them.

“You finally decided to show up,” Oh, an ass-whooping is on the way.

“The mission took us way too long,” it’s Satoru who tries his luck as his usual, and the grin on his face draws a similar one on Suguru’s lips.

“Yeah, but we managed to get it done with. That’s all what matters,” if it wasn’t for Satoru’s love to piss off their teacher, Suguru is sure that he wouldn’t bother. But it’s fun, and it gives the students something to laugh about.

You watch the scene unfold before you and you raise your eyebrows at how easy going the pair standing in front of you was. Did they not fear Yaga? You had been introduced to the man a couple of weeks ago before you were transferred to the school, and despite the comforting vibe the man had, you still felt like you owed him some sort of respect.

Something the two guys bickering with their teacher seemed to lack. Or maybe it was just an act.

Yaga gives the two guys a comical smack to the back of their heads and you hear Shoko snicker next to you. You fight back a smile of your own, until you feel Shoko pat your back, almost in reassurance.

“You can laugh, they won’t be offended.” You relax at this, and before you could even say anything in response, Yaga is clearing his throat to get your attention.

“You can introduce yourself,” oh, he’s talking to me. You’re suddenly aware of the three pairs of eyes fixated on you, and you fidget nervously.

“Hello, my name is (name) and I’m—“

“That’s boring!” The white haired male cuts you off, and your eye twitches. Well, that’s offensive. Before you could even glare at him, he’s approaching you while taking off his sunglasses and your heart stills at the sight. Those eyes felt like they were staring into your soul.

“Show us your technique, that’s a much more interesting way to introduce yourself,” your body relaxes at this, and you can see Yaga signaling you to go along with what your classmate was saying.

“Oh, okay then,”

Suguru’s eyes are cat-like as they fixate on you. You get in position to show off your technique and suddenly, everything goes quiet. He could feel the energy shift when you stepped away from them, and so he was anticipating a big show. Perhaps, you were a show-off like Gojo.

Suddenly, the air feels a little different—why is it wet? He touches his skin to make sure he wasn’t imagining things, and before he could even process things, fog had engulfed him entirely. This was new.

You were nowhere to be seen, maybe that was your technique—a little weak, Suguru thought. But it felt like you read his mind because right in front of him was standing a carbon copy of himself. A clone.

“What the—“ The clone stands still as Suguru gets into a fighting position, ready to unleash a weak curse at it, but the clone is quick to do the same and releases a different curse—the clone knew about his technique?

Before things could escalate further, he heard a snap of fingers from behind him and his eyes widen when the fog and the clone both disappear at once. You were standing right behind him. Being so focused on the fact that what was standing in front of Suguru was a literal doppelganger, he failed to notice you sneak up behind him. He assumed that you snapping your fingers was to deactivate your technique, but it was also a realization that you made him so unaware of his surroundings—and that was the beauty of your technique.

Everyone looks amused by Suguru’s confused expression. He was staring you right in the eye, and your confidence and the relaxed expression painting your face would normally sned shivers down anyone’s spine. It was awkwardly silent for a few moments before Gojo decides to break the silence.

“That was rather impressive, wasn’t it?” Shoko agrees with her classmate, clapping almost ceremoniously. Yaga steps away from the two to approach you and Suguru who was still staring at you, this time with less resentfulness. Sure, he hated having someone sneak up behind him. And the fact that you had chosen him out of the three felt a little strange, but he tried not to overthink it.

Maybe it’s because I looked like a bitch.

He immediately brushes off the thought when you flash him an unapologetic smile, the confidence you gave off a few moments ago replaced with something he couldn’t quite decipher—were you getting shy?

His lips part almost in shock at the way your cheeks are slightly pink, and you take two steps back and away from him before apologizing out loud.

“Sorry, I just thought you looked a little bored.”

Oh, not anymore.

“That to you, is a Grade 1 sorcerer.” Yaga announces very proudly. Usually, Grade S sorcerers would be the one to be introduced like this—with so much pleasure and honor. But Yaga didn’t care about that. He saw potential in you and embraced it like you were his top student.

Geto couldn’t shake off the giddy feeling in his chest. He watched as Satoru came over to your side and ruffles your hair, promising that you were going to have a good time at school because he was there. And you played along, the playful expression you wore on your face not matching the blush on your cheeks—you were just easily flustered having this much attention on you.

“What do you say, Suguru?” He snaps out of his thoughts at the mention of his name, and he finds his best friend staring at him with those eyes. He caught him looking at you, didn’t he?

“Sorry, I zoned out.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but he wasn’t going to say that you seemed so interesting that he found himself so lost in his thoughts. He didn’t like this, he didn’t like how you seemed so unaware of the fact that you were breaking down his walls one by one, and all of this happening in less than an hour of meeting you? Unbelievable.

“I said, we are all gonna get along so well, right?” Glancing at you, he notices how you seem to shift your attention back to him the moment his name is mentioned. You’re almost eager to find out what he has to say next, sparkly eyes and a tight lipped smile making you look so fucking adorable—oh fuck, no.

“Yeah, we will.”

He was officially and totally fucked.

--

It’s been a few months since you officially transferred to Jujutsu high, and things were going great. You felt like you fit in so perfectly, you were a bit nervous that you would be a burden since the trio seemed to have a dynamic of their own, being the one to ruin the dynamic—or worse, feel left out would just be the highlight of your school year. But they were so nice. Each in their own way.

While Gojo felt like a troublesome sibling with his many pranks and jokes, Shoko truly felt like a close friend. You could crack jokes with her, share food and even watch movies during the weekend. The friendship you shared with both seemed very genuine and you were so grateful for that.

And then there was Geto.

Suguru Geto, tall and handsome, with long dark luscious hair and cat-like eyes. A smile that seemed precious since it appeared way less than you would want. A voice that felt like he was purring in your ear and a personality that had your heart stuttering in your chest.

He had caught your eye the moment you saw him walk on the school grounds. You tried not to make your tiny crush on the man obvious right away, but it felt like you blew your cover when you chose him as your target when asked to show off your technique.

Things weren’t exactly bad between you and the tall male, but they weren’t that good either. There an awkwardness that always lingered when you were both left alone, your heart would beat so fast and so incessantly when you felt his eyes on you before he places a piece of his chocolate on your desk.

“Was gonna share it with Satoru, but he pissed me off today.” You’re almost shocked that he’s even addressing you when neither Shoko nor Satoru were in the classroom.

“Are you sure? He does like sweets,” you still grab the sweet treat and place it in your mouth, to which he chuckles at.

“Well, you ate it immediately. Seems like you don’t care.”

“Well, he did piss me off too today,” you’re grinning, playing with the wrap of the chocolate. Suguru raises his eyebrows at your remark and continues to tease you.

“Was it another joke about how bad his clone was? I mean he’s not entirely wrong—“

“Stooop,” you groan out, resting your head on your desk in defeat. You were too embarrassed about the recent incident, and no one seemed to want to let go of it.

Rather than being embarrassed that his clone was that ugly, Gojo’s sudden and quick realization that your clones had an immediate link to your photographic memory lit up a bulb at the top of his head. And so the teasing began.

How come Suguru’s was so accurate on day one!

Do you have something to share with the class?

It was horrible, and you remember how Yaga had to smack the white haired male in the back of his head to get him to stop. He caught onto your little crush on Suguru faster than you had anticipated, but you were glad that when asked what he was teasing you about, Satoru chose to save you the embarrassment and just say that his clone was so ugly, you needed more practice.

“I just need more practice,” you say, a little muffled from having your face in your arm. Suguru stares at you for a few moments from his seat, then he suddenly gets up and walks towards you. He crouches down in front of your desk and you quickly raise your head in question.

“Hm?”

“You don’t hate me, right?” He could’ve asked that question from his desk, he knows that. But it would’ve seemed a little cowardly cause he knows he would avoid looking you in the eyes. But eye contact was important when communicating things, and right now was one of the few moments where Suguru felt like he was going to pee his pants waiting for an answer.

“Hate you?”

“I’m aware that hate is a big word—it’s a strong feeling too, but I just need to know if you feel that way about me.” Suguru was supposed to feel stupid, maybe a little insane for asking you something like this. But he noticed how things always got quiet when it was just you two alone. It didn’t necessarily mean you hated him, but a part of him wanted to make sure you didn’t resent him for mysterious reasons.

“I don’t hate you,” you pause your words, and Suguru watches as your face slightly reddens as you avoid his eyes. “Uh, just nervous.”

Now, why did I say that? It’s one thing to know that he makes you feel this way, but it’s another when you fully admit it to him and watch as he raises both of his eyebrows, almost in shock.

“Nervous?” At first, he’s scared that the word has a bitter taste to it—but it slowly dissipates when he sees the blush on your face darken because why did he have to say it like that.

It sounded like he was saying it for the first time, carefully tasting each letter and syllable. You felt nervous around Suguru.

“You are kind of intimidating,” the small smile painting your lips eases Suguru’s nerves despite having another word describe him. But he’s heard this one before. In fact, he likes it. He likes the way it makes him feel, the ego boost it gives him when he sees people quiver in his presence.

But he didn’t want to have this kind of effect on you. You didn’t need to fear him or avoid his eyes for him to know that he was a powerful sorcerer—he wanted you to feel safe with him. He wanted to rid you of any problem weighing you down, have that smile on your lips for a long time. Whatever Suguru felt for you, he was coming to terms with it and accepting it.

Slowly that is.

“If I’m intimidating, then is Yaga like a monster to you?” Suguru teases you back, and he stands up from his crouching position. He stares down at you with a grin, his sharp eyes making eye contact with your own bright ones. A contrast like this looked so endearing.

“Yes.” You don’t hesitate as you reply, and Geto immediately bursts into laughter at this.

“Wow, you didn’t even hesitate.” Wow, I made him laugh.

“But he is scary! I mean, he’s very nice… but I don’t think I’d wanna piss him off like Gojo does,” you mumble the last part, but Suguru hears you loud and clear.

“Satoru pisses off everyone, so you’re safe.”

Having a conversation like this with Geto felt nice. It wasn’t that often that you two chatted or even had the time to sit down and give each other normal classmate updates. So to be able to talk to him like this, make him laugh until his stomach hurts before walking to your dorms felt new. But you weren’t complaining.  

--

Over the last few months, you’ve gone on a couple of missions with both Suguru and Satoru. They were all successful, and you always got done with them in half of the time.

But today was different. You were going on a mission with Suguru.

Yaga mentioned how you both seemed to work really well together, and while Suguru might’ve been stronger than you, you had so much potential that couldn’t get wasted. Suguru seemed like the perfect fit for a partner and a sort of mentor.

The mission was going to take place in another city, which is why you find yourself on the train with the tall male who was trying to get some sleep.

Sitting across from each other, you couldn’t help but steal a few glances at the guy. He looked too good from this angle, you could feel your body tingling in embarrassment.

The guy’s just trying to sleep

Over the last few months, no matter how hard you tried to brush your feelings for Suguru, they resurfaced not only a day later when he did something that would make your heart stutter in your chest. You remember him making you food when you were sick, giving you his scarf when you got too cold, suggesting to style your hair for you—how could you not fall for him?

But you were terrified of rejection. You were scared that those feelings could potentially ruin the friendship between you two, and God knows how horrible that would make you feel.

“We’re there,” you were so lost in your thought, that you didn’t feel the train stop. Only Suguru’s hand on your shoulder was able to snap you out of it.

“Oh sorry,” you stand up and make your way out of the train with Suguru following close behind.

“Did you manage to get some sleep?” He asks from behind you, and you slow down your pace to match his footsteps before shaking your head.

“Not really, I wasn’t that tired.”

“Oh but you will be after the mission, that’s always how it is.” He was referring to the many times you and Gojo would end up falling asleep on each other on the way back home, and he would secretly take pictures of the white haired male drooling on your hair to show it to you when you both wake up.

“Thank god he’s not here to drool on my hair,” you say with a hint of annoyance, but it’s harmless.

“Oh, you never know,” the playfulness to his voice makes you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face gives away that you were anything but annoyed.

You arrive to said location after ten minutes of walking. And at first sight, it seemed like any normal abandoned building; a little creepy, no color painting its exterior and most importantly lifeless. But the smell—god, the gut wrenching smell that came from it made you cringe.

“God, it smells horrible.”

“Then we’re at the right place.” Suguru is the first one to walk in, and you follow close after. You take careful steps, eyes darting around the area to scan it for any clues.

“I have a horrible feeling about this,” you mumble to yourself. You knew you were sent to this place to find the source of its gloominess, but the farther you walked down the hallway, the tighter your stomach got.

“It was an orphanage.” Your heart sinks at the revelation, watching the old toys scattered on the floor, filled with dirt and dust. You could only imagine what happened to the kids.

The room is silent for a few moments before both of you and Suguru stand still. Almost on guard.

“Do you feel it?”

“Yeah, I do.” Whatever took over this place was huge. It didn’t necessarily feel like a strong or dangerous curse, but the way it was staring at you from down the hall had you standing in a fighting position.

Before you could even process the fact that you were dealing with that big curse, it charges at you—and fast.

It’s too fast for its size!

Mist engulfs the creature almost immediately, it would only serve as a distraction for a little bit before it would rage even more and decide to charge at you.

“Go hide, I’ll take care of it.” You watch as Suguru calls in two of his powerful curses, both enough to do the job. But you don’t want that.

You don’t want him to do the job on his own, or worse hide while he does everything. It wasn’t why you became a sorcerer, why you chose to even join the school. And so you stood still, grabbing one of the daggers attached to your thigh. You ignore Suguru’s cries telling you to step away from the huge curse.

“You’re gonna get killed if you don’t move!”

“Shut up!” The mist slowly morphs into something else—something Suguru has never seen you done before. It shapes itself into a beautiful scenery, one where flowers are blooming and the sun is shining and—he was hallucinating.

And so was the curse. The technique might’ve not been the most powerful, but it still managed to blind the curse for a few moments. You fill your sharp dagger with cursed energy before slicing it open in one swift motion. It’s messy and sloppy, and blood covers your clothes and the floor like a paint. You stand still and stare in awe at what you’ve just done.

I killed a huge curse on my own!

What you fail to see is the multiple cuts on your body, and how all color leaves your face as exhaustion washes over you. Shit, you were passing out.

The last thing you remember hearing is Suguru calling your name before everything goes silent.

--

Suguru is a mess. That was the only word that could accurately describe the state of the poor guy as he paced back and forth in front of your dorm room. No matter how much Gojo tried to convince him that you were okay, he refused to budge.

He was mad at you. You were so reckless back there, refused to listen to him when he asked you to move—he was filled with all kinds of emotions.

And so when Yaga finally gives him the green light to visit you, the first thing he does is scold you.

You’re sitting up in your bed with bandages wrapped around your body, and you look so tired. But despite all of that, you still manage to flash him a warm smile when he walks inside your room and closes the door behind him.

“Yaga told me I was passed out for two days, I hope I didn’t worry you—“

“What you did was reckless.” Suguru cuts you off, voice sharp and cold that you flinch. Your eyes stare at your lap, avoiding his because he was right. You were reckless, refused to listen to him and powered up your technique faster than your body could handle.

“I know,” you don’t apologize. A part of you wants to, but you were still going to stand your ground if he tried to guilt trip you about the situation.

“And I was very mad,”

“I know.”

It’s silent for a few moments, and Suguru takes in how despite the tears blurring your vision, you refuse to give in and apologize about anything.

“But that’s only because you scared me to death,” he hears you sniffle, and he sees you blink away the tears before staring at him in shock. Suguru takes a few steps towards you, and for a moment you see the hesitation in his action. He quickly brushes it off as he gently rests his hand on your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek.

“You have no idea how terrifying that was.” Your heart starts racing at his words, and his touch left a tingling feeling behind when he pulled away to pat your head.

“I don’t want you to do that again, but I gotta admit,” he ruffles your hair, the scowl on his face morphing into a soft expression.

“That was really cool,” your smile is on your lips almost immediately at his words, and you take your hand and wrap it around his wrist. You pull his hand down and place it again on your face, a bold move that has the both of you slightly blushing.

“You think I’m cool?” your voice sounds sweet when you ask the question, and Suguru thinks he’s never heard you sound like this before but he nods anyway.

“The coolest.”

Neither of you move or say a thing after this, but the prolonged eye contact had the tall male leaning down a bit hesitantly at first, making sure you were okay with it. So when you pull him closer and place your lips on top of his, Suguru is convinced that it was the right thing to do.

The kiss is short and sweet. You pull away after a few seconds and the blush on your cheeks spreads across your entire face when he leans in to give you another kiss. Then another and another.

“Sugu—“

“Shhh, you look cute when you’re flustered.”

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