#but that doesn’t mean he’s NEVER high either

[messylustt]

 ݁   𓂃 ៸៸៸ deer in headlights — rafe cameron + reader ( obx ) : when trying to help your sad friend at a party leads to an unexpected kiss from rafe.

contents : slight dick!rafe. nsfw intentions (not full on sex tho). slight dubcon (not heavy or roughly forced) tittie licking/sucking. tittie grab. kissing.

your eyes scanned the party mess. it had only been an hour or so. but more than likely people came drunk way before. most go from party to party, trying to find one that won’t get busted. we’ll see how long this one lasts.

girls yelping, some giggling, most a boy crazy mess. guys hollering, others giggling themselves, nearly twirling their hair at the bent over girls “enjoying” their drinks. you couldn’t help but smile. even though you never found yourself in the centre of it all, you were far from hating the experience.

but that’s when you spotted your friend, scarlet, bolt upstairs, pushing her sleeve down to her fingertips to wipe the mix of tears and mascara from her face. you stood up, tilting past the edge of the couch to reach her.

“scarlet!” you call, trying to quicken your steps. what had happened? she either ignores you or simply can’t hear over the drowning base of the music.

you follow her upstairs. “scarlet?” you call again. and this time she shifts her gaze, her head turning towards you.

“hey..” you smile softly reaching her side. “what’s wrong? why the tears?”

scarlets bottom lip quivers, even if she trying to force it down, while her brows remain furrowed and bent with hurt. she looks as though she wishes to say something, but then she gulps. her expression pales as she rushes into the bathroom, but not before she shuts the door stopping you from entering.

scarlet was always a little complicated. easily embarrassed despite her confidence.

there’s a moment where all you can hear is puking as you try to turn the handle finding that the door is locked. “no. don’t come in.” she says, breathless after a moment.

“scarlet—“ you say in protest, wanting to help. “no! please.” she replies, cutting you off.

you sigh, knowing she hates anyone seeing her puke. “i just wanna help.” you try.

“no I—“ you can hear her hiccuped breathing. “i don’t want him to know…” her tone is almost pitiful.

“who?” you ask standing by the door.

“kelce…”

“kelce?” your brows furrow before thinning out. “is he the boy you kept telling me about?”

she sniffles. “maybe..”

“scarlet…” you say softly “what happened?”

“it was a joke. all of it. ‘sleep with the slut’.” she scoffs. “just because i like boys…a lot of them doesn’t mean i’m some…look liking dick shouldn’t be some god awful issue.”

your brows furrow again, but this time in anger. you hadn’t known kelce that well. only through living on this island, like most. but you had thought he was merely a guy looking to stay ‘cool’ or ‘popular’, not an outright dick.

not like his friend, rafe. rafe cameron. now, if anyone was to easily be called a ‘dick’ it would be him.

“are you sure i can’t come in?” you ask. “please just…” she replies, to which you ease her. “it’s okay. just relax…let me go get you some water.”

you rush back downstairs, squeezing past the out of tuned drunks, and high teens. you head to the kitchen. but as you do, you catch a conversation going on in the hallway.

“i fucked her over man…” the voice, you can identify as kelce’s. “i…why did i do that?”

“hey, calm down. don’t get worked up alright?” the other voice…rafe’s.

“nah man..” kelce sounds stressed, almost on the verge of tears.

“listen to me man. it was a stupid joke. she shouldn’t have taken it to heart, yeah?” rafe’s tone is dismissing towards scarlet, which honestly doesn’t leave you very surprised.

“fuck..” kelce mutters “but now she doesn’t…want me…want anything to do with me most likely.”

“then move on.” rafe replies, speaking as though that concept is a breeze.

“move on…” kelce mutters, repeating slowly.

“yeah, move on. you’re at a party for christs sake. have fun. plenty of girls around.” rafe replies, hitting kelce’s shoulder by the sounds of it.

you peek slightly round the corner to watch them.

kelce sighs rubbing his head roughly.

“go get ‘em man. go on” rafe pats kelce’s back as he slightly pushes him towards the heat of the party. you quickly return behind the doorway as he passes.

you wait a moment before looking back to where they were talking to find rafe staring straight back at you. you pause, blinking. rafe’s head tilts, his expression not one of surprise, as if he had spotted you the moment your head poked out.

“you always eavesdrop?” rafe takes a swig from his beer. you step out, darting your gaze slightly.

“i was just getting some water…for my friend.” you reply as he begins to head over to you.

“yeah?” he hums nodding, as he stops a few step distances from you. “does that water trip include spying?”

“i didn’t catch much.” you reply.

“yeah, how much did you catch, deer?” he asks, his gaze darting over your face and down your body as if he’s trying to place you.

your brows furrow. “didn’t know you were one for…names like that.”

rafe scoffs “i meant ‘deer’ as in a deer caught in headlights, not the other ‘dear’.” he says tapping his beer bottle on your nose, gesturing to your round eyes.

your nose scrunches in response as you lean back, rubbing it. “i’m not ‘caught in headlights.’”

“no?” he replies. “or maybe you’re just starstruck.”

“by you?” you ask raising your brows. “i’m sorry, but you don’t have that ‘wonder’ to you, rafe.”

“a lot of girls think different.” he replies. “you’d look at me with ‘wonder’ if you’ve been seeing stars all night.”

you pause, staring at him, before his words register. “ew, rafe.”

“ouch.” he replies, completely unbothered, taking a swig.

“the majority of people who you make see ‘stars’ are those who have a ‘your-shaped-fist’ indent in their face.” you say edging back into the kitchen, preferring that this conversation ends sooner than later.

rafe scoffs, his face dropping, as he steps after you. “you’re not clever.”

“you seemed affected though.”

“re-size your brain, it ain’t that big”

you raise your hands in innocence, as you turn towards the sink, grabbing a clean empty glass. rafe leans up again the kitchen island, his legs planted in a slight spread.

you glance back at him, wondering why he’s still here.

he watches you.

“look, i’m sorry for eavesdropping. i only cared because…” you pause instinct telling you not to talk about your friend with the likes of rafe. but he clearly already knows.

“oh you got a reason? you’re not just simply…nosy?” rafe gives a fake-surprised look, as you stare blankly at him.

“you’re talking as if you know me.”

“i do know you.” he replies simply.

“no, um…you don’t.” you look confused.

“yeah…i do.”

“maybe we’ve had like…one proper conversation…” you say.

“nah, more than that.” why rafe is saying such simple sentences is a bother to you.

“alright, well…just because we’ve talked a couple times doesn’t mean you ‘know’ me.” you say filling the glass up with water looking back to the sink.

“you think I pay no attention to the people on this island?”

“yeah, sure, briefly. i do the same.” you reply shrugging. “you’re acting as though you know my favourite colour or something.”

“orange.”

you look to rafe, staring at him. “what?”

he crosses his arms, placing his beer to the side. “no, obviously i don’t know your favourite colour. i’m talking about behavioural observations, not stalker material, doll.”

“i thought you weren’t one for names like that.”

“i’m not.” he replies so simply again.

you look back to him seeing that he’s not going to explain any further. “okay…” you mutter moving past him with the glass of water.

“that for kelce’s fuck buddy?” rafe asks staying against the island.

you pause “I’m sorry?”

“what’s her name again?” rafe hums. “sophie?”

“scarlet.” you say with a frown. “and she was never kelce’s fuck buddy. she liked him.”

“yeah, most do like who they fuck.” rafe turns to you.

you narrow your gaze. “your buddy kelce may have thought of it like that, but she never did.”

“hearts break.” rafe states stepping closer “big deal.”

“yeah, it is a big deal. she’s hurt. and fair enough, cause if I got treated like that I’d react the same.”

“would you?” rafe asks. “have you?”

“gotten treated like that? luckily no. but it’s because she puts herself out there way more than me. she’s confident. actually gives it a go.”

“what a star.” rafe mocks.

“you’re all talk, rafe.” you say “because if a girl hurt you like that, I’d think you’d be worse.”

“really?” he looks down at you. “and what happened to not knowing each other that well?”

“you’re a loud bully. i’d have to be deaf not to easily hear about the things you’ve done.”

“you make it sound so dramatic.” rafe scoffs.

“you are rather dramatic.”

“look, doll,” rafe begins leaning down to level with you. “you can nurse sophie back all you want, comfort her, but you’re really not helping.”

“how so? do you have a better idea to help?” you ask raising your brows.

“yeah.” rafe says darting his gaze “enjoy the party. let them deal with it.”

“deal with it? you told kelce to go scout the girls here.” you say.

“yeah, and you actually think he listened to that? kelce is a bleeding heart. sensitive like a fucking kids movie.” rafe states. “no, he’s gone to talk to her. she’s crying in the bathroom right? i guarantee he’s there too.”

“and what makes you think she’d want to see him?”

rafe shrugs. “not our problem.”

“she’s my friend. of course it’s—“

but rafe cuts in, grabbing your shoulders. “not. our. problem.” he states slowly. “you think you rushing in there is going to help? they need to talk. kelce needs to talk.” rafe chuckles. “though if I were him, I wouldn’t bother, find someone new.”

“well thank god she didn’t sleep with you.” you mutter.

“jealous?”

“oh yes.” you nod sarcastically. “wouldn’t want her stealing you away.”

rafe’s lips quirk up. “yeah?”

“you look way too happy that i said that.” you eye him.

rafe grabs his beer off the kitchen island, bringing it between you both. “drink.”

you look at the bottle then back to his face. you shake your head. but rafe just nods, bringing the bottle to your lips. you lift your hand to protest but your glass of water spills a fraction making your hands pause, and giving him enough time to tilt the beer into your mouth.

you’re instinct is to swallow, before you step back, wiping your lips. “ew, rafe.”

“do you find everything disgusting or just when it involves me?” rafe asks taking a sip of his own from the beer bottle.

you meet his gaze staying silent, as he frowns.

“i’m not some troll.” he scoffs.

“could’ve fooled m—“

but rafe cuts in. “don’t finish that.”

you press your lips together, almost smiling, despite yourself.

“don’t smile either.” this time rafe looks disgusted. “you look demented…” he then pauses. “…or pretty, hard to say.”

you scoff “great save.”

“i try.” his lips quirk up again. he looks around a moment before his smile fades, finding a certain spot behind you.

you look behind you also seeing a girl who’s gaze is hardened on you both. you shift your gaze back to rafe but he’s far closer then before. you instinctively lean back.

“don’t be annoying now.” rafe says.

“i’m just moving back.” you reply, not seeing the problem.

“hm.” rafe hums, rolling his eyes. though that action doesn’t seem to be for you, but for the girl staring.

“katie, right?” you say in reference to the girl.

“ew.” rafe replies.

“ew?”

“i thought you were well aquatinted with that word?” he steps closer to you, glaring at the girl. “what a pest.” he mutters.

you look back to katie, who’s gaze hasn’t shaken. “you with her or something?”

“don’t ever say that again.” rafe says harshly. “little bitch doesn’t know when to quit.”

“it must be that ‘wonder’ you possess.” you say shrugging.

rafe looks to you, deadpanned. “funny.”

“i’m just saying. which is why i’m confused that you’re bothered.”

“when I kiss someone, i want to like it.” rafe states blandly. “i didn’t like it, so that’s why she’s not over here and instead over there.”

you stare at him. “okay. then have you talked with her about that?”

“uh huh.” rafe says. “in one ear and out the other.”

rafe then focuses fully on you, an idea almost displayed in his eyes. you look back at him confused, your eyes darting a little nervously at the intensity of his sudden attention.

“are you a good kisser?”

rafe’s question makes you pause, even more confused, your eyes widening a fraction. “what?”

“c’mere.” he murmurs, his finger curling into one of your jean loops at your hips.

“wow, wow—“ you rush out placing your hands on his chest as he tugs you closer.

“look convincing.” he hums tilting your chin up. his lips reach yours, stepping against you.

your eyes flutter shut at the closeness. his mouth moves against yours, finding your bottom lip as his tongue drags. the suddenness of it all makes your head spin.

rafe begins to smile against your mouth, either at katie’s reaction, or potentially yours. his tongue doesn’t let up as it slides between your lips, reaching your own. his hand grabs your glass placing it aside before he reaches for your hair sliding his fingers between the strands.

your lips feel wet now, swollen, as you clench at his shirt to breath. he lets up leaning back a fraction. you’re blinking, licking your own lips in shock. you knew they were now red.

“what…what was that?” you whisper. you pause then glance back to katie who’s gaze is like thunder but she finally looks away, heading outside to the busy pool. “oh...” you say. “to make her jealous? really?”

“no, to make her leave.” rafe replies, his tone almost distant, as his gaze is stuck on your mouth. he then leans down and kisses you again, stopping your tongue from dragging along your lip repeatedly. he was far too eager this time around.

and this time you step back.

rafe nearly follows your lips.

“rafe…she’s gone, you can stop now.” you mutter fixing your hair.

rafe then murmurs. “didn’t I say if i don’t like it leave?”

“which is rather rude when you’re actually kissing a girl.” you reply, a little flustered, as you reach for the glass.

rafe slides it away. “you kissed back.”

“i was surprised.” you say.

“glad you have that instinct then.” rafe muses. to which you turn away aiming to leave the kitchen.

but rafe steps after you. “what, going back to sophie?”

“scarlet.” you say. “and yes. I’ve left her for too long.”

rafe blocks your exist. “you don’t like me, i get that. but if you want to help your friend, let them talk. and in the mean time, enjoy yourself.”

“so you’re suggesting I go outside then? maybe to the pool.” you say, as he shakes his head.

“no idiot. here. with me.”

“now that’s the kind of name i thought you’d prefer saying.” you reply. “and…no…thank you.” you say trying to move past him.

“you’re a good kisser.”

“how sweet. move please” you say.

“my god, you really hate me, huh?” he chuckles

“i dont know you enough enough to hate you.” you say “but i do dislike you…so….close.”

“at least I’m not at the far end of the spectrum.” rafe hums, getting closer and fiddling with the end of your shirt.

“you’re close.” you say trying to move his hand away.

“but not there.”

“rafe, what do you want?” you sigh, looking up at him.

“i wanna see if you look more like a ‘deer’ when my hand is actually doing something.” he murmurs for your ears only.

“I’m sorry?” i stare at him, surprised as if he hadn’t just randomly kissed you before.

“relax.” rafe murmurs, pressing against you. “ease up, baby.”

all you manage to do is stare as your body registers the feel of his.

“yeah…” he hums, tugging at your hair slightly. “like that.”

“rafe…” you say, still confused by his actions.

“come on,” he chuckles lowly. “it’s a party. don’t tell me you don’t enjoy it?”

“i do, it’s just—“

but he cuts you off, his breath hitting your cheek. “then left your shirt up, lemme see…”

your stomach fills with butterflies, your eyes darting over his face.

“listen, I’m bored.” rafe says his lips now pressed to your ear, his hand squeezing your waist. “and…i liked the kiss. so I’m thinking I’ll like the rest of you.”

“you’re—you’re just overly horny.” you say.

“and who’s fault is that?”

“hey, you were the one who kissed me.” you say.

he smiled as his hand sunk under your shirt to your stomach.

“rafe—“

“shh.” he hushed, looking down at your shirt and his hand underneath. he lifted the material. you move to grab the shirt, embarrassed at the exposure.

“please, doll, just a quick look.” he says. “none of this has to mean a thing, i promise.” his hand grips your shirt.

and strangely, as he tugs you to a darker corner of the kitchen, his hands lifting your shirt to reveal your bra, and the hum that follows, makes you wonder if he really means that promise.

because as soon as his finger traces the cup before slipping inside, and brushing right over your nipple, the look in his eyes changes.

you can’t pinpoint what it changes to, but his following action, with the grip in your hair is clearly a new promise.

if he doesn’t like it he leaves.

but what happens when he does like it?

he grins nearly cooing at your concentrated face. “don’t think too hard.” he hums as he rubs your nipple and breast making your breathing hitch. “keep that head small for me, doll. you’re a very pretty deer when caught in headlights.”

“you just like me dumb.” you say, understanding his words.

his grin merely grows, as he pushes your bra cup aside completely holding and grabbing your breast. “well, when you’re smart you’d push me away.”

you nod, as he nods too, chuckling. he then forces you to arch against him, as he leans down, keeping eye contact.

he swirls his finger around your nipple. “should I turn this red too?”

the moment his tongue reaches your nipple, tingles run up your spine. and as he begins to suck, the tease in his voice leaves him as he murmurs a simple “fuck.”

your stomach churns, as he nods, almost answering himself with a name he claims to dislike. “yeah…baby, don’t move”

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[6esiree]

“Imagine reader notices that Alastor’s, Lucifer’s, and Vox’s necks are always covered and one lovely night they decide "nuh uh.” The next morning they aren’t allowed to cover their necks up for certain reasons, teehee.” @psychesetra

I was actually thinking about this last night—about how nice it would be to crawl onto his lap, legs on either side of his waist and your crotch bumping against his as you wrap a singular hand around his neck. To feel his adam’s apple bob underneath your palm with anticipation as you lean in and press your plush lips against his jaw in such a tender manner, his breath audibly hitching.

“Have I ever told you how much I like your neck?” You admit with a murmur, hips experimentally rolling against his. He chuckles at your words as he grasps your waist. “And how much I like that only I can see this part of you?”

Initially, you only intended to appreciate the part of him that he never shows to the world… but as his eyes flutter shut, his brows knit together, and his mouth tightens into a thin line, it slowly turns into something more than that. It doesn’t help that you pull all sorts of sinful noises from his throat—from stifled grunts and groans to the occasional breathy moans and whimpers—that simple appreciation with ghost-like kisses evolves into little nips with your teeth.

“You’ve made that clear, sweetheart,” He eventually rasps, words coming out almost breathless despite his lack of activity. “And I mean very clear.”

But when you feel the unmistakeable evidence of his pleasure poke your thigh as you relinquish his neck, only to grasp onto his hair and tug his head back, you latch onto the flesh you once held within your grasp and suck. He lets out a shameless groan and squeezes your waist, enjoying the sensation of your teeth and tongue assaulting him, leaving bruises that only that ridiculously high collar of his can obscure.

He allows you to mark him up to your heart’s content, not a single ounce of worry present in his blissed out features as you pull back with a smile on your face. You’re proud of the mess you left on his neck, yes, but you’re also secretly anticipating the morning after. As he shoots you his own lopsided grin, he has no idea that you hid away all the shirts you could find with high collars before you asked if you could have your way with him.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Could you perhaps write something? It’s the readers birthday and Reid waits all day to see if she brings it up, but they never do. So he shows up at her apartment with a gift for her and tells her he’ll always remember her birthday, even if she doesn’t tell anyone when it is. And then a little smut occurs. 😱

Birthday Surprise

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut (18+), fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, forgotten birthday

Word count: 7.9k

a/n: this is such a great idea i'm so sorry it took me forever to get around to writing it !! it's probably way smuttier than you thought lolol i was in a smut slump but we're back !

main masterlist

Additional warnings: oral (fem receiving) protected PinV

The day unfolds like any other, with the usual rush of paperwork, coffee runs, and the occasional moment of laughter echoing through the bullpen. You stay focused on your work, avoiding any unnecessary interactions that might draw attention to yourself. After all, it’s your birthday, but you’ve chosen to keep that to yourself. It feels strange, withholding such personal information, but in a high-stakes environment like this, there’s a part of you that prefers to blend into the background. Birthdays aren't meant to be a spectacle here. 

You glance around the room, noticing the typical energy coursing through the space, unaware that a pair of eyes have been subtly watching you all morning. Spencer Reid, as meticulous with people as he is with facts, has always been someone who notices the little things others tend to miss. Today, it’s your silence, the absence of a celebratory card, or a slice of cake that catches his attention. He’s well aware of what today means, not because you told him, but because he knows. Just like he knows the birthdays of every other team member, except yours is different—yours matters more to him. 

Spencer taps his pen against his notebook, his gaze drifting toward you. He debates internally whether to say anything, to let you know he’s aware. He’s read enough about social norms to understand that birthdays often come with expectations—balloons, cake, a few awkwardly sung lines of "Happy Birthday"—but that’s not your style. He’s noticed how you avoid the spotlight, how you prefer quiet moments over public celebrations. Still, he wonders if there’s something you’re hoping for today.

Penelope, typically the beacon of all things celebratory, hasn’t said anything either. But Spencer figures you’ve kept it quiet on purpose. He knows Penelope would have plastered the office with decorations had she been aware, and since the office remains as normal as ever, Spencer figures you’re not in the mood for that kind of attention.

He watches you, waiting for a sign—a smile, a quick glance his way, anything that might suggest you’d appreciate a private acknowledgment. When nothing comes, he respects your decision, but there’s a gnawing feeling inside him. Birthdays are supposed to be special, and even though you’ve chosen not to celebrate, he can’t just let it pass without doing something. Not for you.

The day comes to an end, and not a single word has been spoken about your birthday. You’ve kept it quiet, of course, but still, the silence lingers a bit more than you expected. Not from anyone else, and not from you. Spencer has watched the day unfold in his quiet, observant way, and though he knows you’re not one for grand gestures, he can’t let this pass unnoticed. 

After leaving the office, Spencer’s mind is already set on what he needs to do. He stops by your favorite restaurant, carefully picking up dinner. You never told him your favorite spot, but he’s always been the kind of person who pays attention to the little things—especially when it comes to you. He takes pride in knowing these details, even if he’s never made a show of it.

From there, he heads to a local bakery, the door chiming just as the frustrated baker is about to close. Spencer, out of breath and apologetic, manages to convince the baker to stay open just long enough to get a small cake with your name written on it. The generous tip helps, but more than anything, it’s the desperation in Spencer’s voice that softens the baker’s resolve. 

Now, standing outside your front door with his arms full—dinner in one hand, cake in the other—he uses his elbow to press the doorbell, feeling a flicker of nervousness that’s unusual for him. He never shows up unannounced like this, but he knows this is different. This matters.

Inside, you’re curled up on the couch, completely absorbed in the book your parents sent you as a gift. It’s one you’ve been dying to read for months, and it’s been the perfect way to end your quiet day. The unexpected ring of the doorbell pulls you from your peaceful moment, your brow furrowing slightly as you set the book down. 

You tiptoe toward the door, glancing out the sheer blinds to see who it could possibly be at this hour. When you spot Spencer standing there, your heart skips a beat. You quickly open the door, a confused grin tugging at your lips.

"Reid?" you ask, your voice light but puzzled. "What are you doing here?"

He shifts awkwardly, his arms still burdened with dinner and the cake, and there’s a sheepishness in his expression that’s both endearing and unexpected. 

"Happy birthday," he says, though it comes out more like a question, his uncertainty evident.

Your heart swells at the sight of him, the surprise of his gesture hitting you all at once. You glance at the dinner in one hand, the cake in the other, and something warm blooms in your chest.

"Thank you," you say, your voice soft as you open the door wider. "Come in, please."

Spencer followed you into the kitchen, his eyes subtly taking in the details of your small, cozy home. It occurred to you that this was the first time he had ever been inside, and that realization only added to the strange, fluttery feeling that had been building inside you since he showed up at your door.

He set the bags down on the counter, the quiet clinking of takeout containers filling the brief silence between you. 

“How, um... how did you know it was my birthday?” you asked softly, a hint of shyness in your voice. 

Spencer didn’t look up immediately, making himself busy with the food, carefully unpacking it as though it were an everyday task. “I would never forget your birthday, Y/N,” he replied, his voice so matter-of-fact yet warm. 

His words struck something deep inside you, and your heart swelled all over again, the warmth spreading through your chest and into your limbs. “Reid... that's so sweet,” you murmured, barely able to contain the emotion in your voice.

He smiled over his shoulder at you, that soft, almost boyish grin that made everything feel lighter. “I hope this is okay,” he said, turning around to show you what he had brought. “I guessed you’d like this.”

You blinked, staring at the familiar containers in his hands, and your breath caught in your throat. It wasn’t just any takeout—it was your favorite order from your absolute favorite restaurant. Your mind struggled to process how he could have known, and your body felt like it was on the verge of exploding with a tidal wave of affection and gratitude.

“H–how?” you stammered, unable to get out anything more coherent as your emotions threatened to overwhelm you.

Spencer shrugged in that sweet, almost bashful way he did sometimes, his eyes meeting yours as he simply said, “I pay attention.”

Those three words hit you harder than anything else he could’ve said. It wasn’t just the dinner, or the cake, or even the fact that he’d remembered your birthday without you saying a word—it was that he saw you, truly noticed you, in ways you didn’t think anyone ever did.

Without thinking, you stepped closer, your eyes soft and full of everything you couldn’t put into words. “Reid, you didn’t have to do all of this,” you whispered, but there was no mistaking the happiness in your tone.

He smiled gently, placing the food down on the counter. “I know,” he said, his voice soft, “but I wanted to.”

And just like that, your quiet birthday became something more than you ever could have expected—because of him.

As the two of you settled into an easy rhythm of conversation over dinner, it felt surprisingly natural—despite the unexpectedness of the evening. You sat across from each other at your small kitchen table, the soft clinking of forks against takeout containers punctuating the space between your words. Spencer, usually so reserved and careful, seemed more relaxed, as if the intimacy of the moment had broken down some of his usual barriers.

“You know,” Spencer began between bites, “this restaurant has one of the highest customer satisfaction ratings in the area. I didn’t just pick it at random—I wanted to make sure it was perfect.” He looked up at you, his eyes bright with sincerity.

You smiled, taking in how thoughtful he had been without even realizing how much it meant to you. "I can’t believe you went to so much trouble for this. I really don’t expect anything big for my birthday."

Spencer shrugged, his expression so genuine it made your heart ache just a little. "Well, it’s not just any day. It’s your day. And you deserve to feel special."

His words landed gently, but with a depth that made your pulse quicken. You had always seen Spencer as more than a colleague, but you’d never really considered him in a romantic light. The way he was speaking tonight, though, made you notice things about him you hadn’t before.

“You’re really thoughtful, Reid,” you said, picking at your food, your voice soft. “I don’t think I’ve ever had someone remember the little things like you do.”

He glanced at you with a shy smile, pushing his glasses up slightly. “I like to notice the important things. People tend to overlook those details, but they matter.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, and you suddenly realized how much attention he must’ve been paying all this time. Spencer was always observant—he was a profiler, after all—but this was different. He was talking about you, not in a way that made you feel studied, but in a way that made you feel seen.

“I guess I’ve never really thought about it like that,” you replied, your voice light, though your heart felt anything but. “Most people don’t pay that much attention.”

Spencer looked at you intently then, his gaze soft but unwavering. “It’s hard not to pay attention to you.”

The statement was simple, but the way he said it felt like something more. You felt your cheeks warm, caught off guard by the realization that Spencer Reid might see you in a way you hadn’t seen yourself.

“Reid, I—” you started, but he interrupted, not even realizing the shift in the conversation.

“And you’re always so organized with your case files,” he continued, a small smile playing on his lips. “I appreciate that about you. You make my job easier, and honestly, it’s hard not to enjoy working with you.”

You laughed softly, feeling flustered but trying to keep it light. “You make me sound like I’m perfect or something.”

He tilted his head, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. I’ve always thought you were... well, pretty amazing.”

“I... I didn’t know you felt that way,” you admitted quietly, playing with your fork to avoid looking directly at him.

Spencer, seemingly oblivious to the weight of his own words, shrugged again. “I'm not always good at saying what I’m thinking, but you’ve always stood out to me. I guess it’s just… obvious to me.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and for the first time, you found yourself really considering Spencer Reid in a different light. Sure, he was brilliant, kind, and more attractive than you’d ever let yourself dwell on—but you had never imagined he might see you that way.

You felt... average. Just you. How could someone like Spencer, with his genius mind and thoughtful nature, possibly see you as anything more than a friend or colleague?

As you looked across the table at him, his expression soft and open, you realized that maybe—just maybe—you had been wrong about where you stood with him.

After the plates were cleared, you and Spencer sat side by side, laughing as you decided to abandon any pretense of formality and dig into the cake with forks. It was just the two of you, after all, and the evening had become too comfortable for anything else. Every bite seemed to add to the warmth between you, and even though neither of you had touched a drop of alcohol, it felt like you were both intoxicated—drunk on the unexpected affection and connection between you.

You noticed Spencer watching you with an intensity that was both thrilling and unsettling. His gaze felt heavier than usual, more present, more... intentional. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a little self-conscious under his watchful eyes. “What?” you asked, your voice light but breathless as your lips curled into a small, uncertain smile.

Spencer let out a soft laugh, a sound so gentle it sent warmth coursing through you. He shifted closer, his hand lifting, and before you could process what was happening, his palm was cupping the side of your face. His thumb brushed across your lips tenderly, lingering there. 

“You have...” he murmured, eyes never leaving yours, “some frosting.”

His touch was electric, sending a shiver through you, though you were frozen in place. Your lips parted slightly in surprise, but you couldn’t move. Spencer's thumb continued to gently trace the curve of your bottom lip, the moment stretching between you, thick with something you hadn’t realized was there until now.

He leaned in a little closer, his breath brushing your skin as he whispered, “Y/N… I’m going to kiss you. Is that okay?”

His words, soft and tentative, sent your pulse racing, and you barely registered the nod you gave in response. But that was all he needed. Spencer's gaze flicked down to your lips, and he closed the remaining distance slowly, as if giving you every chance to stop him, though you knew you wouldn’t.

His lips met yours gently, a hesitant kiss that was soft, warm, and everything you hadn’t realized you’d been craving. The world seemed to fall away for a moment, leaving just the two of you, locked in something fragile and sweet.

Spencer’s hand stayed cradling your face as he deepened the kiss just slightly, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache. When he finally pulled back, just enough to look at you, his forehead rested gently against yours, and his eyes were still closed as if he were savoring the moment.

“Was that okay?” he asked quietly, his voice thick with emotion, still holding onto the last traces of your kiss.

You let out a shaky breath, your hands instinctively finding their way to his chest. “Mhm, very okay,” you whispered, smiling softly as your heart raced in your chest.

Spencer opened his eyes slowly, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. The room felt heavier with meaning now, but it was the kind of weight you welcomed, a sense that things had shifted between you in the best possible way.

“Can I do it again?” Spencer asked, his voice playful, his lips pulling into a silly grin that made your heart flip. 

You couldn’t help but giggle at his eagerness, your cheeks warming as you nodded once more. This time, though, you didn’t wait for him to make the first move. You leaned up toward him, your hands sliding from his chest to the back of his neck, your fingers gently threading through the soft strands of his hair.

Spencer’s hands moved from where they had been resting on your face, sliding down to your waist as he pulled you in closer, your bodies now pressed together with a new, delicious kind of tension. He let out a soft, happy hum, the sound vibrating through you, making you feel like your entire body was alight with warmth. 

When you felt his tongue gently part your lips, exploring your mouth with such tender care, you couldn’t help the soft, sweet moan that escaped you. The sound seemed to stir something in Spencer, and you felt his fingers tighten on your waist just as a low, deep groan rumbled from his chest.

Encouraged by his reaction, you tangled your fingers further into his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. The world outside this moment seemed to fade even more, leaving just the feeling of Spencer against you, the intoxicating heat between your bodies, and the soft sounds of contentment that passed between you both.

Each kiss was deeper than the last, each touch more deliberate, as if you were both slowly learning a new language made of gentle caresses and lingering glances. Spencer’s lips were soft and insistent against yours, but always so tender, as if he was savoring each moment, never wanting to rush. The feeling of his body pressed so intimately against yours, his hands gripping your waist like he never wanted to let go, made your pulse race.

Spencer pulled back ever so slowly, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You let out a soft whine, your body instinctively leaning forward, both at the loss of his lips and the delicious pull of his teeth. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath, the air between you thick with unspoken feelings.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he murmured, his voice soft and almost breathless, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Your heart skipped at his words, and you tilted your head slightly, curiosity getting the better of you. "How long?" you asked, your voice just as quiet, as if speaking too loudly might break the fragile intimacy between you.

Spencer laughed, the sound low and almost bashful. "Two years and three months," he said with a soft chuckle, his breath tickling your skin.

You paused for a moment, realizing how specific that time frame was. Then it hit you. "That's... that's when I started at the BAU," you said slowly, your mind racing to piece it together.

He nodded, his forehead still resting gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between. "Since the first day I saw you, I knew you were special."

His words hung in the air, and something inside you shifted. You could feel the weight of his confession settle in your chest, and it only made the moment feel more intense, more real. Spencer had been feeling this way for so long, waiting patiently, watching from the sidelines, all without you ever knowing.

That’s when you made your decision.

"Take me to the bedroom, Reid," you said, your voice steady but filled with anticipation.

Spencer pulled back instantly, his eyes wide in surprise, his expression almost comically stunned. "What?"

You held his gaze, your hand gently brushing his cheek as you repeated, more softly this time, "The bedroom, please?" You threw in your best puppy dog eyes, knowing it would be hard for him to say no.

For a moment, Spencer was frozen, his mind clearly racing to catch up with the reality of what was happening. "Okay—yeah, yeah," he stammered, still in shock but unable to hide the excitement building in his voice.

He stood back quickly, offering his hand to you with a mix of eagerness and hesitation. You took it, letting him pull you gently from the kitchen, the warmth of his palm against yours sparking something deep inside you. As he led you down the hallway toward the bedroom, your heart raced, the anticipation growing with every step. 

As soon as the bedroom door closed behind you, your hands were already tugging at Spencer’s sweater vest, pulling it over his head with eager fingers. His usually neat hair was left a little wild and messy, and you couldn't help but giggle softly at the sight. He grinned back at you, shaking his head like a dog trying to shake off water, making you laugh even harder.

"You're ridiculous," you teased, but your words were laced with affection.

Spencer just smiled wider, his eyes filled with mischief and desire. Without missing a beat, his hands found the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it up as you raised your arms in surrender, allowing him to undress you with deliberate care. The fabric slipped over your head, and as soon as it was discarded to the floor, you could feel his gaze roaming over your body.

His eyes lingered on your chest, clearly noticing the absence of a bra, and the way his breath caught sent a shiver through you. There was something so intense, so reverent in the way he looked at you that it made your skin tingle. His hands found their way to your breasts, his touch gentle yet filled with hunger, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

Without another word, Spencer dipped his head back down, capturing your lips in another kiss that left you breathless. This time, it was deeper, more urgent, as if all the emotions he'd been holding back for years were pouring into this moment. His thumbs rubbed at your nipples as he kissed you, and you could feel his heart beating wildly against your chest, matching the rhythm of your own as you whined softly into his mouth.

Your hands found their way to his hair again, tangling in the soft strands as you pressed your body closer to his, craving more of him, more of the way his lips moved against yours, more of the way his hands explored you.

The moment you felt the unmistakable press of Spencer’s arousal against you, your instincts took over. Your hands trailed down, quickly working at the waistband of his pants, eager to feel more of him. Spencer’s fingers left your body only long enough to undo the buttons of his shirt, your breaths becoming heavier as the distance between you both shrank even more.

Soon, he was down to just his briefs, his skin warm against yours, and for a second, you thought he was about to pull you into another kiss. But instead, he surprised you by crouching down in front of you, his hands resting on your hips. You looked down at him with curiosity and amusement, tilting your head.

“What are you doing down there?” you asked, laughing softly, though your heart was racing.

Spencer looked up at you, and the look in his eyes sent a rush of warmth through your body. There was something almost reverent about the way he gazed at you, like you were the most precious thing he'd ever laid eyes on. “I have wanted this for so, so long,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I want to savor every little bit of you.”

His words made you flush with heat, the intensity of his desire crashing over you like a wave. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and before you could say anything in response, Spencer's hands were moving again, removing the last pieces of your clothing as he kissed the newly exposed skin. 

And then, you were standing completely bare before him, your most intimate parts now level with his face. The vulnerability of the moment, combined with the raw hunger in Spencer’s eyes, made you feel dizzy, but you couldn’t look away.

It seemed like this was exactly what he had wanted all along. Without hesitation, he leaned in, his breath hot against your skin before his tongue traced a sure stripe through your slick folds. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure up your spine, your knees almost buckling from the sheer intensity of it.

A gasp escaped your lips as Spencer continued, his mouth working with a determination that made it clear this was something he had imagined countless times before. His hands gripped your thighs, steadying you as he continued his ministrations, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes designed to unravel you from the inside out.

You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips, your fingers tangling in his hair once again as he savored you, just like he said he would.

"You taste better than I imagined," Spencer murmured between breaths, his voice thick with desire before he dove back in, his mouth moving over every inch of you, leaving no part untouched. His tongue was thorough, his lips relentless, and each movement made it harder for you to hold on to any coherent thoughts.

Your grip on his hair tightened as a desperate whimper escaped your lips. "You—ungh—you imagined this?" you managed to gasp out between moans, your voice shaky and breathless.

Spencer hummed against you in response, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, his mouth latching onto your clit with more intensity, suctioning his lips tightly before shaking his head back and forth, creating a sensation so intense it made you scream out, your body trembling with the force of it.

The sound that left you was raw, completely involuntary, as waves of pleasure rolled through you, Spencer's hands gripping your thighs tighter to hold you steady as you lost yourself in the moment. He was relentless, devouring you with an eagerness that matched his earlier words. It was clear he had thought about this—dreamed about this—and now, with you here in front of him, he wasn’t going to waste a single second.

"Reid..." you moaned, your voice breaking as your entire body responded to his touch, your legs threatening to give out beneath you. Each movement of his tongue, each gentle bite or hum, pushed you closer and closer to the edge, and all you could do was hold on tight, letting him take you wherever he wanted you to go.

But then, just as you were teetering on the edge, Spencer pulled back, leaving you breathless and aching for more. The sudden absence of his touch made your body tremble, a desperate whine escaping your lips. When you looked down, confused and still dazed with pleasure, you noticed the almost stern look in his eyes, his lips glistening as he gazed up at you.

"Spencer," he said, his voice low, full of intent.

Your brow furrowed slightly, your mind hazy from the high you had been riding. "What?" you managed to ask, your voice breathless and needy.

His eyes softened, but his expression remained firm. "Call me Spencer," he repeated, his tone a mixture of command and affection, as if this small detail mattered more than anything in that moment.

Before you could fully process it, he leaned back in, parting you gently with his thumbs to give himself even more access. The feeling was overwhelming, your body trembling as he resumed his ministrations with renewed intensity, his tongue and mouth working in tandem, more precise and focused than before.

The need in you swelled again, even stronger than before, and this time, you couldn’t hold back the moans that spilled from your lips. "Spencer," you gasped, his name escaping your lips like a prayer, your body arching into him as he pushed you further and further toward the edge.

Hearing his name on your lips seemed to spur him on, his movements growing even more deliberate as he devoured you with every ounce of the hunger he had been holding back. You were completely at his mercy, unable to think, unable to do anything but feel as he brought you closer and closer to the peak of pleasure, his name falling from your lips again and again.

Spencer could sense how close you were, your breath hitching and your body trembling beneath his touch. He doubled his efforts, his tongue moving with precision and urgency, his fingers pressing against your thighs to keep you steady. The need to see you completely unravel, to give you that release, spurred him on as he focused entirely on you.

Your moans grew louder, more desperate, and then, finally, the tension that had been building in your core snapped. You tilted your head back, your body arching as the overwhelming pleasure took over. With a loud, uncontrolled moan, your hands found Spencer’s hair, gripping it tightly, tugging hard as you released, your body shuddering and your mind reeling from the intensity of it all.

Spencer didn’t stop, his mouth never leaving you as he worked you through your climax, swallowing everything you offered him. The feel of your fingers gripping his hair, the way your body shook as you released in his mouth—it was everything he’d dreamed of, and more. Only when your body began to calm, your breath evening out, did he slowly pull back, his lips brushing against your skin one last time, savoring the moment.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of satisfaction as you slowly came back to reality. You were still breathless, your body weak from the intensity of your orgasm, but the way Spencer looked at you, filled with awe and admiration, made you feel like you were floating.

"That," he murmured softly, "was everything."

“Uh huh,” you mumbled, still floating in the afterglow, your head in the clouds, your body humming with the remnants of pleasure. Spencer slowly rose from his knees, his hands gently skimming your skin as he stood to his full height, a soft, amused smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you.

“You with me, beautiful?” he asked, his voice full of warmth and amusement as he stroked your hair, fingers threading through the strands tenderly.

You blinked up at him, your eyes still hazy with satisfaction, but your smile was soft and content. “I’m with you,” you replied, voice breathy but sincere, your whole body feeling like it was made of light.

Spencer chuckled, the sound affectionate and full of something deeper. “Good, good,” he murmured, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “Do you want to keep going?”

A slow smile spread across your lips, and the way you said, “Please, Spencer,” made his heart race with excitement and affection.

Spencer grinned, the playful glint in his eyes returning as he gently guided you down onto the pillows, his hands firm but tender. He leaned over you, his fingers brushing your cheek as he whispered, “Anything for the birthday girl.”

With that, Spencer lowered himself over you, his body pressing against yours with a sweet, delicious heat. You could feel the warmth of him, the anticipation growing as his lips found yours once again, slow and lingering, savoring every second. His hands explored your body as though he wanted to memorize every curve, every inch of your skin, and the way he touched you made your heart race all over again.

This wasn’t just about physical pleasure anymore—it was about something deeper, something that had been quietly building between you both for much longer than either of you had realized.

"Can you..." you started, but then hesitated, suddenly feeling a wave of shyness crash over you. This was Reid, after all, your colleague and friend, someone you'd see at work tomorrow. The reality of that hit you, and it made your heart race for an entirely different reason now.

Spencer, noticing the shift in your demeanor, raised an eyebrow, his voice soft and reassuring. "Can I what, darling?" he asked, a small, amused smile on his lips as he looked down at you.

You shook your head, trying to brush it off, but Spencer’s expression quickly shifted to concern. His hands, which had been tracing gentle patterns on your skin, paused, and his voice became softer, more serious. "Y/N... are you okay?"

You let out a quiet sigh, nodding, but there was still a lingering tension in your chest. "Just... is this going to be weird tomorrow?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The intimacy of the moment, the emotions wrapped up in everything that had just happened—it suddenly felt fragile when faced with the idea of seeing him at the office the next day, going back to the usual routine like nothing had changed.

Spencer's face softened even more, and he tilted his head, his eyes searching yours. "Weird?" he repeated, his voice thoughtful, as if he was carefully considering your words. He shifted slightly, his hand coming up to gently stroke your cheek. "No, Y/N, this doesn’t have to be weird."

You blinked up at him, your heart settling slightly at his calm demeanor. He continued, his voice gentle but certain. "We can take it one day at a time, okay? But if you're worried about work, nothing between us will change unless you want it to. I care about you too much to let this ruin anything.”

"If anything, this makes everything better," Spencer continued softly, his eyes full of sincerity as his hand stayed gently on your cheek. "I’ve wanted to be close to you for so long. I wouldn’t do anything to mess that up or make you feel uncomfortable. We can handle this however you want—slow, steady, or even just keeping it between us for now."

His words soothed the unease that had started to form, the tenderness in his tone making it clear that he wasn’t rushing anything, wasn’t trying to push for something more than what you were ready for. Spencer, as always, was careful, deliberate, and understanding. The way he looked at you, the way he touched you, made you feel safe, even in this new, uncertain territory.

You took a deep breath, feeling some of the weight lift from your chest. "I just… I don’t want this to change things in a bad way," you admitted, your fingers lightly brushing over his arm as he hovered over you, your bodies still close but the air between you calmer now.

Spencer shook his head, his smile warm and full of affection. "It won’t. I promise. I’ll still be me, you’ll still be you. And we’ll figure out whatever this is together, one step at a time. You don’t have to worry about work or anything else right now. Just... be here with me tonight."

You felt a sense of relief wash over you, his words grounding you in the moment. The fear of what tomorrow might bring began to fade as you looked up at him, trusting that Spencer, with all his care and thoughtfulness, would never let this turn into something that would hurt either of you.

"Okay," you whispered, offering him a small smile. "I’m here with you."

Spencer’s face lit up with a soft, almost shy grin as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, his hands once again finding their way to your waist, holding you close as if reassuring you through his touch.

“Good,” he murmured against your lips, his breath warm and comforting. "Because I’m not going anywhere."

With that, the tension between you melted away, leaving only the quiet intimacy of the moment. Spencer guided you back onto the pillows, his movements slow and deliberate as he kissed you again, this time with more ease and tenderness, making it clear that whatever happened next would be on your terms, whenever you were ready.

Spencer groaned deeply into your mouth as you pushed his briefs down, your hand wrapping around him, stroking him with just enough pressure to make his breath hitch. You guided him into position, your need for him clear in the way your body responded. His lips never left yours, but his breath grew more ragged as the tension between you mounted.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours, his voice thick with restraint.

You whimpered in response, the feeling of him grinding against you, the tip of his cock hitting your clit, making it impossible to think of anything else. “Please, Spencer,” you begged, your voice trembling with need. “I want you so badly. Please.”

He let out a strained groan, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as your words washed over him. "Okay, okay," he whispered, trying to soothe you even though he was losing his own control. "Shh, you never have to beg me for anything, ever."

Your body writhed beneath him, desperate for more, for him, and you shifted your hips instinctively, trying to coax him to push inside. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, and your need for him was palpable in every shaky breath you took.

Spencer, however, managed to hold onto a sliver of resolve, even as it wore thin. "Y/N, beautiful," he said, his voice rough, "we need to use a condom."

"Top drawer," you gasped, your words nearly a plea as your body moved beneath him, craving the release only he could give you. "Hurry!"

With a nod, Spencer fumbled toward the bedside table, pulling the drawer open with shaky hands. He found the box quickly, tearing it open with urgency. Your eyes stayed locked on him, watching every movement, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your skin burning with need.

He returned to you swiftly, sliding the condom on with practiced care, though his hands were trembling. The moment he was ready, he positioned himself above you again, his eyes filled with both desire and affection as he leaned down to kiss you, this time slower, savoring the feel of your lips against his.

"I'm here," he whispered, his voice softer now, filled with reassurance as he finally pressed forward, slowly pushing inside of you, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure crashing through both of you.

Your head fell back against the pillows, a loud, satisfied moan escaping your lips as he filled you completely, your body welcoming him in a way that felt natural, perfect. Spencer groaned, his breath hitching as he felt your tight walls constrict even further around him. 

"Y/N, darling, relax, please," Spencer panted, his voice laced with both urgency and concern as he struggled to hold himself back, his body tense with restraint. He could feel your tightness, the way you clenched around him, and it was driving him wild, making it hard to stay in control. 

You whimpered, your body still adjusting to the sensation. "You're just—ah!" Your voice broke into a loud gasp as he finally pushed all the way inside, filling you completely. The stretch was intense, overwhelming in the best way. "You're so big... why didn't you tell me you were so big?"

Spencer let out a tense chuckle, clearly amused by your reaction despite his own effort to keep himself in check. "I, uh... didn't think it was that big," he managed to get out, his breath shaky as he looked down at you, his forehead damp with sweat from the strain of holding himself back. 

“You’re a fucking liar,” you laughed breathlessly through your whimpers and whines, your body trembling with both pleasure and amusement.

His chuckle, though filled with affection, was also tight with restraint, and you could feel the tension in his body as he tried to keep from moving too quickly. "Just... breathe," he murmured, his voice gentler now as he leaned down to kiss your forehead, trying to calm both you and himself. "I'll give you as much time as you need. I don't want to hurt you."

You nodded, taking deep breaths as your body slowly adjusted to the feeling of him inside you. Spencer’s hands stayed gentle, stroking your sides and thighs as he gave you time to acclimate, though you could feel him trembling with the effort of holding back.

After a moment, you shifted your hips, testing the sensation, and the movement elicited a low groan from Spencer, his self-control wavering. "Okay..." you whispered, your voice soft but filled with need. "I’m ready."

Spencer’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening with desire as he slowly began to move. His pace was careful at first, each thrust deliberate as he let your body adjust to his size, but the tension between you built quickly, and soon, the rhythm grew more urgent, more desperate.

Each movement sent sparks of pleasure through you, the sensation of him filling you so completely making you dizzy with desire. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the way he moved so perfectly in sync with you, as if you were made for each other.

Spencer groaned deeply, his forehead pressing against yours again as his movements grew more intense. "You feel so good," he murmured, his voice strained as he fought to hold himself back just a little longer, wanting to make this last as long as possible for both of you.

"Spencer!" you cried out, your nails digging into his back as your body trembled beneath him, the pleasure overwhelming you.

"Yeah, baby?" he panted, his voice rough and breathless as his hips slapped against yours in a steady, rhythmic motion. "Tell me what you need."

"You! More! Please!" Your voice was a desperate plea, every inch of your body burning with want.

"Fuck," he breathed, his control slipping as he sped up, his thrusts becoming more intense. His hand snaked between your bodies, fingers finding your clit as he began to rub you in time with his movements. The sensation made you cry out again, the combination of his fingers and his body sending you spiraling toward the edge.

“I’m—I’m gonna come,” you whined, your body trembling as you clenched tightly around Spencer, the sensation pushing you toward the brink.

“Y/N!” he gasped, his voice strained as he tried to hold on. “Calm down, baby, you’re going to push me out.”

But you were too far gone to hear him, lost in the overwhelming pleasure that was building inside you. Your whimpers grew louder, your body thrashing uncontrollably as Spencer’s fingers moved faster, working in perfect rhythm with your body's need.

Suddenly, it hit you all at once, the most intense release you’d ever experienced. You let out a violent scream, your entire body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, something deeper and more powerful than anything you'd ever felt before.

Your walls clenched so tightly that you did, in fact, push Spencer out, and you gushed all over him, your body overwhelmed by the force of your orgasm. Spencer let out a low groan at the sensation, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and arousal as he watched you come undone in front of him, watched your release coat his stomach and thighs.

“Did you just... squirt?” Spencer asked, his voice full of pure awe as he looked down at you, his eyes wide with amazement.

You were a panting mess on the bed, completely spent from the intensity of what had just happened. “That, or I just peed on you,” you mumbled, half-joking but still trying to make sense of the overwhelming sensation you had just felt.

Spencer laughed, shaking his head as he dipped down to kiss you, his lips soft against yours. “You are so sexy, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice full of affection and admiration.

You kissed him back tiredly, your body too exhausted to do much more, but the desire to give him what he needed still lingered. "Want you to come too," you whined softly, your words almost pleading.

“Okay, okay,” Spencer soothed, his breath hitching as he positioned himself once more, slowly pushing back inside you. The sensation made your body jolt, and you cried out, your back arching from the overstimulation. It was too much and yet not enough, the oversensitivity sending sharp pulses of pleasure through you.

“Are you okay, darling?” Spencer asked, his voice breathless as he fought to hold himself back, concerned about your comfort.

You nodded quickly, though your body was trembling beneath him. “Nuh huh,” you whimpered, your voice shaky as you gripped him tightly, pulling him closer. “I’m okay, I want this. Please,” you urged, your body still sensitive but craving the closeness, needing to feel him chase his own release.

Spencer groaned at your words, his resolve crumbling as he began to move again, thrusting into you with an increasing pace. His body was tense, his breath ragged as he neared the edge, each movement sending both of you into a dizzying spiral of pleasure.

You clung to him as he chased his release, your breaths mingling, your bodies connected in a way that felt intimate and overwhelming all at once. And when Spencer finally let go, his body shuddering as he found his own climax, you held him close as he groaned and whispered your name. 

After Spencer had taken care of both of you, gently cleaning you up and even changing the sheets that had been soaked in your release, the two of you finally settled into bed, wrapped up in each other's arms. His body was warm against yours, his breath steady as he held you close. Everything felt so perfect, so right in that moment, like the world had shrunk to just the two of you in that cozy little space.

You nuzzled into Spencer's chest, feeling his heartbeat under your lips as you placed a soft kiss there. "I want things to be different," you mumbled, your voice quiet and filled with a softness that made his heart swell.

Spencer looked down at you, his hand stroking your hair gently. "Yeah?" he asked, the happiness in his voice evident. "Different how?"

You shifted slightly, still cuddled close, your lips brushing over his skin. "I want everyone to know," you murmured, your voice more certain this time.

Spencer chuckled softly, though he held you tighter, a smile spreading across his face. "Know what exactly?" he asked, teasing slightly, though he had a feeling he knew where this was going.

You tilted your head up, meeting his eyes with a sweet, serious look. "That you're my boyfriend," you said, your voice full of affection, but also with a sense of determination.

Spencer’s heart fluttered at your words, and he couldn’t help but break into a grin. He’d never thought he’d hear you say something so simple yet so powerful. "Boyfriend, huh?" he teased softly, though his own voice was thick with emotion. He pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours. "I think I’d like that," he whispered.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words settle over you like a blanket. "Good," you replied, kissing him softly. "Because I want everyone to know how lucky I am."

Spencer let out a soft laugh, his thumb gently tracing the outline of your face. "I think I’m the lucky one, Y/N," he murmured, his voice filled with nothing but pure, overwhelming happiness. And in that moment, with the two of you wrapped up in each other, everything felt like it was exactly as it should be.

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tag list <333 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance 

[suhkusa]

Osamu feels the text before he actually gets the chance to read it.

“What the fuck—” there’s a sudden hand on his shoulder.

“‘Samu, what the fuck did you do?”

Osamu is taken aback, but retorts. If anyone asks, Atsumu started it. 

“What the fuck do you mean?” One of Osamu’s hands grabs his brother's wrist, trying to pull his grip off.

Atsumu’s eyes are glaring into his own, “You know what you did,”

“If this is about Y/N, you had your chance and you fucked it up,”

Atsumu is pushing his twin into a nearby wall when he says, “That tweet was a lie, I was planning on fixing things with her. Why did you get in the way?”

“I got in the way? It wasn’t just the tweet, Atsumu. You know damn well. You started this with your stupid— truce,” Osamu’s pushing back. But his brother has always been the more athletic one.

“What truce?” a voice cuts through, and it’s yours.

The two of them freeze, still in their awkward position.

You’re stepping closer before you’re nudging Atsumu off Osamu. Osamu looked at his twin, and his facial expression definitely changed.

Atsumu really hasn’t seen you in a while, huh?

“What truce?” you repeat, but you sound more desperate, more demanding.

“It- It’s-” Atsumu begins to try to explain it, but it’s like the words don’t want to come out.

“Seriously? Am I just like a game to the two of you?” your voice is getting loud, but it’s straining. Like you’re hurt?

“I’m tired of this whiplash that both of you give me. You want me and then you don’t. You’re my friend and then you’re not. Can the two of you make up your mind?”

Osamu’s heart is shattering in his own chest. He never realized the weight of his actions until now. And as he glances at Atsumu beside him, he can tell he’s going through the same epiphany.

“I’ve tried, I really tried. You guys distanced yourselves from me after high school and for what? Some quick fucks and attention from girls?”

“You don’t know shit, Y/N,” Atsumu is the first one out of the two to finally speak. 

“What? What could I possibly not know?”

“That we both fucking like you!”

Osamu feels his own eyes widen along with yours. The shocked reaction doesn’t stop his brother.

“We’ve both liked you for god who knows how long, and we forced ourselves to try and stop,” he looks to Osamu, “but we both know how that went,”

“Stop criticizing me— and ‘Samu, for that matter, when you don’t know how it feels to give up someone you love for someone else that you love,” 

Osamu is still silent. He feels like he should say something, but he doesn’t. He can’t. His twin brother has said enough.

And in the end, Osamu still never got to confess.

Everything is silent. Atsumu is angry, you’re sad. Osamu doesn’t know what he is. Maybe conflicted?

It feels like everything just got way more complicated than it needed to be. Atsumu’s face drops before he runs a hand over his face and through his hair. He sighs before walking off. Osamu doesn’t know where Atsumu’s going. He doesn’t really care either.

His eyes then meet yours. Yours are glossed over. Like you want to cry, but you hold it back. He wants to reach out to you. 

But Osamu Miya is a coward. And he doesn’t say a word as you stalk off in the opposite direction.

BOTH AIN’T SH!T — EPIPHANY

PREV | MASTERLIST

ATSUMU | OSAMU

NOTES.

surprise!!! you get to choose your twin lol

congrats on finishing main story!

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[runariya]

I am in love with that Jk merman story of yourssss , you are such a talented author !!!! Keep it up with the good work .

Even i want to request a prompt after that story because i believe only you have the capability to bring that prompt to life (only if you want to write ofcourse, no pressure )

I have never read an ABO fic with enemies to lovers troupe in modern era , I mean just imagine them being the high-school academic rival wolves who can't bear standing eachother

but the moment they turn 18 and their wolves will develop some special senses and powers, they both will realise that they both are actually mates . damnnn now image the strong pull their wolves will feel towards eachother making them go crazy ( their wolves will fall in love with eachother the moment they will recognize eachother as mate and start rebelling their human counterparts and start convincing them to love eachother too .)

and how bad they will try to hide it , deny their wolves forbid their animal counterparts from eachother only to fail miserably in the end because yeah that mate bond will win 🥹

You can choose any BTS member you want because I love and enjoy reading all seven of them so go for any member you want .

Borahae 💜 , no pressure if you are not interested in writing this prompt , I will still adore you and your work 💜 😘 so feel free to reject this request if you want .

part of the prompt game pairing: alpha!Jungkook x omega!female reader genre: fantasy!AU, "E"2L, ABO, high school romance warnings: Jungkook's the most pitiful teenager in all of existence, bad handling of emotions/feelings, a lot of cliques, denial, a little bit of physical fighting, mentions of blood, lmk if I forgot smth word count: 2.754

a/n: tysm for all your compliments, I'm so flattered 🫂 I've tweaked your request a tiny bit to fit the character of OC better and left out marking etc. bc they're still so young 🥹 hope that's okay 💕

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He hates you.

No, he loathes your entire existence.

That Miss Perfect attitude, excelling in everything you do as if it’s the easiest task in the world. You’ve been enemies since high school started—not because either of you declared it so, but because Jungkook simply can’t stand you.

You, on the other hand, are oblivious to this feud, always kind and friendly towards everyone, especially Jungkook. He doesn’t understand how you do it, staying so humble and kind towards him when he takes every opportunity to throw jabs your way, or cause you minor inconveniences, like not holding the door open or letting you trip more times than he can count.

It’s infuriating to watch you be so lovely, especially when you’re not only the smartest but also the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen—something he will never admit. Ever.

“Jungkook?” Your soft, sweet voice startles him. He’s been too busy glaring at the papers scattered before him, his thoughts circling back to you. There's no one else in the lecture hall, and he didn’t even realise you’d entered. You seem to appear out of nowhere, catching him off guard. “I think you dropped this.”

You’re smiling again, that blinding smile of yours, starry eyes sparkling with joy, courteous as ever. He wants to scream. He doesn’t want this treatment from you, not when you’re a little older than him—well, only two months, but still. You’re 18 now, with your wolf, while he’s not, which only deepens his resentment. Once again, you’re ahead, better at something.

The whole school talked about your wolf. Despite your gentle nature, everyone was shocked to learn after your first turn that you’re an omega—one of the very few in the city, the only one known in school. It’s yet another thing Jungkook can’t stand, especially now that everyone, wolf or not, showers you with attention.

“Not mine,” Jungkook lies through his teeth, eyeing the pencil still held out towards him in your small, delicate hand, your nails perfectly manicured.

“Oh…” you murmur, glancing down at the pencil, your brows drawing together in disbelief. Of course, you don’t believe him. “But it’s got your initials, and it’s the one you’re always using.”

Damn you! Of course, you know it’s his favourite. He should’ve seen this coming.

“You think I’d use it after your germs have contaminated it?” Jungkook scoffs.

“That’s not very kind.” You purse your lips, those beautiful lips.

“It’s the truth, ___.”

“Is it okay if I keep it?”

What?! “What?” Jungkook can’t believe his ears. Why would you want to keep it?

“Can I keep your pen? It would be a waste to throw it away, especially when it looks so cool.” You repeat, smiling again.

The pencil is cool, and Jungkook has half a mind to just snatch it back, but he won’t give in. He won’t concede even the smallest defeat.

“I don’t care,” he grumbles. It’s enough to make you burst with joy, your face lighting up as you clutch the pencil to your chest.

“Thanks, Jungkook! You’re so kind!”

“Whatever.”

And ‘whatever’ indeed, because seeing you every day with his pencil, as if it’s the most precious thing in the world, drives him mad. He regrets his decision. He wants it back. It’s his, and what’s his should stay his, but it isn’t—and it makes him livid.

Livid in a way that fuels his pettiness, pushing him to new lengths to make your life difficult. He puts fake spiders in your bag, bumps into you when you’re struggling with your food tray in the canteen. But all of it is in vain, because you’re an omega—everyone’s darling. Every time something inconvenient happens to you, a horde of people rushes to your aid.

This alone is enough to make Jungkook reconsider his actions—or rather, the attention he’s giving you. It’s not like you care. It’s not like you treat him any differently when he’s mean. So what’s the point? At some stage, he’s not even sure why he started all this, why he loathes you so much. If he’s honest, you’ve never actually wronged him. Not once. And now, he’s running out of ways to break you, to show everyone your true colours, because no one can be this perfect, right?

It’s the Friday before his birthday weekend when you approach him again, this time holding a small present. You look up at him as he stands by his locker.

“Hey, Jungkook,” you say softly.

“What do you want?”

“Uhm, I know Sunday’s your 18th birthday and… well, I know you didn’t invite me to your party, which is totally fine! Don’t get me wrong! But I just wanted to give you this because it’s a big birthday, right? So, yeah…”

The tiny gift is wrapped in floral paper with a neatly tied bow, and it looks exactly how he imagined your presents would. It screams 'you', and he’s unsure what to say. He reckons he should just take it and thank you, but the way you’re looking up at him, so small and kind despite knowing you weren’t invited, bothers him like a sock slipping off mid-walk.

Jungkook reluctantly takes the present, ignoring the slight relieved droop of your shoulders and how your warm, soft fingers brushed softly against his.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, his eyes transfixed on the gift.

“Happy birthday, Jungkook. I hope it’ll be everything you wanted and beyond.”

And with that, you turn away, a light spring in your step, your hair moving behind you like a fairy’s wings.

Jungkook doesn’t waste any time after you leave, ripping the gift open in a rush of curiosity, only to freeze, stunned, when a tiny jewellery box is revealed to him. He’s never received any jewellery before, and the fact that it’s a gift from you—a female ‘stranger’, no less—makes his nerve endings prickle with discomfort. The idea of receiving something so personal feels wrong somehow, and yet, despite this strange feeling creeping over him, he still finds himself opening the small red box.

Inside, nestled on an equally red velvet cushion, is a delicate necklace with a pendant that bears his initials. It’s the prettiest necklace he’s ever seen, and the worst part is that he can already picture himself wearing it, the style so perfectly matching his aesthetic that it’s rather unsettling.

He carefully takes the necklace from the box, letting it twist and turn in the sunlight, the metal gleaming ever so mesmerising. But that’s when he notices an engraving on the back of the pendant, and as he peers closer, he fights the urge to rub his eyes.

You’ve had ‘alpha’ engraved onto it. There’s no way anyone could be so bold as to assume another person’s future rank, and yet here you are, making such an assumption about him. Jungkook can’t help but think maybe he was right all along—there’s something strange about you. You’re just a little too perfect, a little too confident in your kindness, a little too bold in your presumptions.

Shaking his head, he lets the necklace fall back into the box, snapping it shut and tossing it carelessly into his locker, fully intending to forget about it sooner or later. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

Saturday night and Sunday come and go in a blur of noise, people, and anticipation. Jungkook has invited practically everyone he knows to his birthday party, hoping that with the arrival of his wolf, his mate might finally be revealed as well. But no one who attends is his mate, and this realisation drags his mood dangerously low. He feels a nagging stab in his chest that he can’t shake, made even heavier by the recurring thought that you, little Miss Perfect, were right all along—Jungkook has become an alpha, just as you predicted. Typical.

What infuriates him even more is that on Monday morning, as you—like always—walk past his locker on your way to the lecture hall, the world seems to slow around him. He watches in disbelief as you suddenly stop, staring at him with wide eyes that shimmer with unshed tears. You look stunned, but more than that, you look happy, as though you’ve just discovered something wonderful. And then, in the midst of his confusion, his inner wolf starts to go wild, barking ‘mate’ over and over again, leaping with excitement inside him.

It should be a moment of joy, a moment where he feels relief and happiness in finally knowing who his mate is. But instead, all Jungkook feels is denial, a desperate refusal to accept the truth, even though, deep down, he knows that you’re everything he ever wanted in a mate.

Still, he turns away from you, ignoring the way your face crumples, the way your bright, hopeful tears turn into ones of sadness, the way you rush past him with your head down, leaving his wolf whimpering in confusion and hurt. Jungkook tries to convince himself that this can’t be real, that it can’t be right, even though every part of him knows it’s exactly what he wanted, what he’s been waiting for.

In the days that follow, he struggles to keep up his usual routine of tormenting you, making snide remarks whenever he gets the chance, but there’s no joy in it anymore. You’re not kind to him the way you used to be, not anymore. You don’t smile at him, don’t even really smile at anyone; instead, you accept his cruelty with a resigned, sad look in your eyes and a forced, brittle smile that never quite reaches your eyes.

Each day, it becomes harder and harder for Jungkook to suppress his wolf, who clearly isn’t on the same page with his cold treatment of you. His wolf growls at him, restless and unhappy, frustrated with the way things are. And Jungkook knows—he understands why—but he feels trapped.

How could he possibly make things right after all he’s done to you? How could he ever redeem himself after letting his bitterness and resentment carry him so far? It doesn’t help that the necklace you gave him is now tucked securely under his shirt, the cool metal pendant resting against his chest, near his heart, multiplying the ache that’s slowly but surely forming there as well. He fiddles with it absentmindedly, the action soothing in a way he can’t explain, though it only makes the guilt grow.

“Jungkook?”

He no longer startles when you appear, his wolf always sensing your presence before you even speak, and your voice has become so quiet, so broken, that it doesn’t have the same effect it once did.

Looking at you now, standing there with your eyes downcast and your voice soft, makes him wish he could take it all back—every harsh word, every petty action. He wishes he could go back and rewrite everything, build something good between you instead of tearing it down. But it’s too late for that, far too late, and he knows it.

When he doesn’t respond, you gather the courage to continue, your voice wavering slightly. “I know it’s random, but I noticed your grades haven’t been as good as they used to be. I know you’re not the kind of person who needs help, but… if there’s anything I can do, just let me know, yeah?”

He wants to snap at you, wants to push you away, but he’s so exhausted—exhausted from pretending he doesn’t care, exhausted from pretending he hates you, and most of all, exhausted from fighting this undeniable bond between you.

Tears prick at his eyes, overwhelming him with guilt, frustration, and something else he can’t quite name. He’s so fed up with himself, so trapped in the mess he’s made that he doesn’t know how to fix it, doesn’t even know where to start.

“Hey… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” you say, your voice tinged with panic now as you shift nervously on the spot, your hands reaching out towards him only to pull back, unsure of what to do. “I’m sorry…”

“Stop!” Jungkook yells, and the sound of his own voice surprises him. You flinch, your entire body recoiling as if he’s physically struck you, your trembling hands clasping tightly in front of you.

“I… I’m sorry.” Your bottom lip quivers, and before Jungkook can say anything else, you turn and run, disappearing down the hall, leaving him standing there with the misery of his guilt pressing down harder than ever.

To think it couldn’t get worse was the stupidest thought Jungkook ever had, because it got worse. Not only did his little outburst suffocate him in guilt, but it also made you avoid him every chance you got. It also didn’t help that most people noticed your changed persona, adding one plus one and recognising Jungkook as the culprit.

He doesn’t fault them, doesn’t really mind the insults coming his way, of being heartless for not wanting a mate like you, when he knows they speak the truth. He doesn’t deserve you, doesn’t deserve someone who he clearly hurts without a true reason.

And the way his inner wolf retreats now from him too, is something he understands as well, because there’s literally nothing he could do to mend what he’s broken.

It’s one afternoon after classes have just finished, and he’s walking out of the school when he notices you cornered against the wall by some other alphas, three in total. Jungkook’s immediately enraged, and it’s then that his wolf rises to full strength, baring his teeth and growling violently.

You’re clearly uncomfortable, clearly scared of what might happen, especially when one of these alphas gets in your face, giving you no way to escape. The last straw for Jungkook is when one runs his filthy finger along your beautiful face.

“Hey!” Jungkook roars, storming towards the alphas who have now turned to laugh in his face. “Back off.”

“What?! She’s fair game.” One mocks, while you’re still pressed against the wall, but your eyes are hopefully locked onto Jungkook.

“I said back off my mate.”

They do, but only to now lunge at Jungkook, thinking that outnumbering him will shoo him away. But it doesn’t—Jungkook won’t let anyone else touch you, his wolf and himself ready to do anything to protect you. And so, Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to take each one of them down.

Driven by adrenaline, he doesn’t notice the sting of the hits he couldn’t block, but it’s nothing compared to the urge to protect you with all he has, all he is.

One after the other falls to the floor, while blood trickles from his split lip, knuckles burning and swollen, his chest still heaving, his wolf still angrily jabbing at the air.

“Jungkook?” His eyes snap up to you when you call for him, and he’s relieved to find no repulsion or fear in them when they lock onto him.

“Are you okay?”

“Thank you,” you nod, and his wolf wags his tail, barking mate, deafening all his other senses.

“Good."

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?”

You hesitate, and it makes him feel powerless all over again, but eventually you whisper, “Because I’m not who you wanted.”

It’s broken, it’s defeated, and it’s everything he never wanted his mate to say, because it’s not the truth. Never was. Never will be.

“But you are.” Jungkook tries to smile, despite knowing it’s not hopeful or kind, but sad in all the ways his decisions led it to be.

“I am?”

Seeing your eyes gradually returning to their lively, sparkly self is more than he ever wished to witness, more than he ever should receive, but everything he ever wanted.

“You are. Always were.”

And with that, he opens his arms, stepping over the still-groaning alphas to get closer to you.

With a push off the wall, you sprint into Jungkook’s arms, tears of relief running down your cheeks as he embraces you like you wished he would from the start. But it doesn’t matter, because no time apart could ruin the feeling of him embracing you and your bond.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook mumbles into your hair, inhaling the magnificent scent of you.

“It’s fine, everything’s fine.”

And as you cling to him, your wolves finally as content as you are, you know that you’d never change a thing, because it’s better to be loved willingly than with no other choice.

[withthewindinherfootsteps]

For all the very self-sacrificial Wei Wuxian takes out there, I think they may actually fit Lan Wangji more?

…Before you disagree, there’s a big caveat to this – I don’t think these takes fit either of them well. But it’s interesting to compare their default responses to situations. Both want to help others – but whereas Wei Wuxian’s first instinct is to redirect (redirecting attacks to other targets, redirecting enemies’ attention to distract them, etc), Lan Wangji is much more direct in his protection*. And generally, that’s going to lead to putting yourself in harm’s way more often.

My favourite scene to demonstrate this is when Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji (alongside Jin Zixuan) are protecting Mianmian in the Xuanwu cave. Wei Wuxian does this by redirecting Wen Chao’s attention to him, provoking him and causing him to step out of Wen Zhuliu’s range of protection. Meanwhile, Lan Wangji stands in front of her, blocking her from danger directly… despite being at a disadvantage and already injured!

Wen Chao was enraged, shouting, “How dare you! Kill them!” A few of the Wen Sect’s disciples unsheathed their swords, rushing toward Lan WangJi and Jin ZiXuan (...) the two boys were at a loss in terms of both weaponry and sheer numbers. Even more, after the past days of being constantly on the move, they were in quite a bad state, not to mention that Lan WangJi had been injured. They definitely wouldn’t be able to last long. Chapter 52, EXR translation

This is a scenario with high stakes (Mianmian’s life), but also with multiple solutions, meaning that their choices aren’t muddied by there only being one option. Yet we still see Lan Wangji directly defend – despite the fact that, if Wei Wuxian hadn’t intervened, he almost certainly would have died! And that’s true of another moment in the Xuanwu cave I never hear anyone talk about:

Before Wei WuXian could think of what to do next, his body tilted as somebody shoved him to the side. Lan WangJi had pushed him out of the way. With this opportunity, the jaws of the beast had closed, biting down on his leg. Wei WuXian’s right leg hurt from simply watching the scene. Lan WangJi’s face was still expressionless. He had only frowned slightly. Afterward, he was immediately dragged away! (...) Lan WangJi didn’t expect that [Wei Wuxian] could catch up even under such circumstances. He was utterly shocked. Chapter 53, EXR translation

Admittedly, this is a scenario with more limited options, which is why I mentioned Mianmian first. But his reaction stays consistent – directly blocking somebody from a threat with his own body. And again, he didn’t think Wei Wuxian could do anything to rescue him! He does not expect to survive, and we just… don’t talk about this???

(And note that when Wei Wuxian rescues him, he actually puts himself in less danger! Again, this is mainly due to the limited solutions – you can’t rescue someone who’s already bitten down on by blocking the mouth from biting down on them – but he’s still in a position where he does have the option to get out of the situation if he chooses (he’s not between the teeth! His hands are opening the teeth from the outside, his feet are on its shell, he can jump into the water at any time and does after Lan Wangji is safe. There is danger of the Xuanwu choosing to attack him, but his position on its own doesn’t put him in mortal peril, which is not the case for Lan Wangji here). So though it doesn’t give us that much insight into how he prefers to deal with situations, the dynamic is still interesting to consider with regard to how fanon!WWX is often treated.)

Now, maybe these examples are unfair. Maybe Lan Wangji here was very tired (he was), stressed (he was) and not thinking straight, and so he just didn’t think of other options that he would’ve chosen in normal circumstances. If that’s the case, it still supports my point – no matter his eventual course of action, his first thought/instinct is still to obstruct directly – but this isn’t just a pattern limited to this arc, and to such high-stakes situations. For example, look at his reaction when the Wens order the Lans to burn the Cloud Recesses (and though I’d be very surprised if Lan Wangji wasn’t stressed here too, he’s at least less tired).

Wei WuXian, “Is Lan Zhan’s leg related to this?” The disciple, “Of course. The first place that Wen Xu ordered them to burn down was the Library Pavilion. He declared that he’ll teach anyone who wasn’t willing to do it a lesson. Lan WangJi refused. He was attacked by Wen Xu’s people and they broke one of his legs.” - Chapter 52, EXR translation

I say this is low-stakes because actions won’t actually have that much of an impact – though there is danger, the Cloud Recesses are going to be burned down no matter what, so it’s not something you’re risking by not acting to prevent it. Yet Lan Wangji still chooses to directly oppose, to directly protect the pavilion as much as he can (even if that’s very little, and even if I do think the main factor here was actually his refusal to go against his principles and burn down the Cloud Recesses, not him trying to protect them. But that still leads to the same course of action: to act very directly). And again, that results in direct bodily harm to him**! 

But even in situations where he’s not stressed or under any pressure, we still see that direct protection is his default. Just look at the way he acts towards Wei Wuxian in the present day. One of his very first actions towards him (and pretty much the very first after finding out his identity!) is to block Jiang Cheng from hurting ‘Mo Xuanyu’ with Zidian – to quote EXR, “[Wei Wuxian] hadn’t been hit by the whip yet only because Lan WangJi acted as a barricade in front of him.” – and after that we often see him protecting Wei Wuxian from dogs, we see him let Wei Wuxian stand behind him when Jiang Cheng is angry at the Golden Core reveal (Chapter 102), we even see him protecting Wei Wuxian from things they both know he can face (Su She):

On the other hand, Lan WangJi gripped Bichen in one hand as he grabbed Wei WuXian’s waist with his other, pushing Wei WuXian behind him for better protection. In reality, Wei WuXian had no need for his protection, but he still leaned against his body with both comfort and compliance. Chapter 104, EXR

None of this leads to any harm of either of them, but it still holds true to the pattern of Lan Wangji protecting by physically putting himself between what he’s defending, and harm’s way. This response of his is extremely consistent! And it’s not just towards Wei Wuxian either – there’s a tiny moment in the Lotus Seed Pod extra which you could argue fits this pattern, where Lan Wangji chooses to physically hold the heavy roof of an abandoned shed to block the rain from reaching an injured man and a few other people, rather than trying something like using wood from the shed (including the four pieces of unattached wood propping the shed up) to build a temporary shelter for them until help arrives. The circumstances and therefore actions are slightly different, but the process leading to them is still the same – Lan Wangji still acts in the most direct way he can to protect the people from the rain, which does involve exerting himself even in a situation where there would probably be other ways to solve it (even if his Lan arm strength means he can hold the roof up without a problem). It’s not a deliberate choice to do whatever puts him in harm’s way the most, but directly using himself to protect people, whatever form that takes, is his main and default course of action.

The final thing I want to mention is that even Lan Wangji’s ‘big reveal’ moment – him being the one to take Wei Wuxian away from Nightless City, fighting 33 elders to protect him – calls back to this trait as well (MDZS is so well put together)! Once more, Lan Wangji is directly protecting, risking and suffering serious bodily harm as a result. Recovering took a few years!

…And yet. I never see anybody thinking Lan Wangji is self-sacrificial. I’d argue they’re right – but why? Why, when he puts himself in harm’s way more than Wei Wuxian does?

Maybe it’s because of something like this: ‘but he does this because he loves Wei Wuxian and doesn’t want to see him hurt, and protecting others is just part of his morals! It doesn’t point to any issue within him, he does have a stable sense of self and self-worth – at least there isn’t anything pointing to the opposite’.

Which, again, I’d argue is right.

But… does that really not apply to Wei Wuxian, too?

---

*And there are moments where they don’t act like this, especially for Wei Wuxian, but that’s generally in situations where there aren’t any other options which still lead to them accomplishing their goals. Protecting the Wens by… redirecting the Jianghu’s hatred towards other people? How would he do that? How would that help anything??

**It’s quite interesting to think of how Wei Wuxian would act in these situations, actually – both being forced to burn down the Cloud Recesses (or Lotus Pier, in this case), and in preventing (in this case) Lan Wangji from being eaten by a Xuanwu rushing towards him. The first, I’m not actually sure what exactly he would do (especially as nothing he can do will stop the burning) – I’m not sure he’d just go along with it, but I don’t see him just refusing to despite that not doing anything, either (especially since if he’s unharmed, he’ll be more able to protect his shidi and shimei if they’re in danger, since he’s a much more skilled cultivator/fighter than they are), at least not in the same way. Hearing people’s thoughts on that would be really interesting, actually!

As for the second – if there’s really no time to change anything about the head or its direction, he would probably do the same (with the only other option being letting Lan Wangji die). But if there was the smallest room to change something, I could definitely see him activating another fire talisman (to distract the Xuanwu and redirect its attention to the pillar of flame instead of Lan Wangji, even if just for a moment). And even if self sacrifice really needed to be an option, with no way out beside it, I think Wei Wuxian’s would take the form of redirecting the Xuanwu’s head towards him rather than directly blocking it from reaching Lan Wangji. When he does put himself in danger in canon, this is usually how he does it (see: him redirecting the corpses towards himself during the Second Siege, while Lan Wangji is protecting him and blocking them from reaching him… another nice example of their situational response!).

I do plan on writing a separate meta about Wei Wuxian’s tendency to redirect, though, so some of these points may be reiterated there.

[blixabargelds]

PLS do more cnc, nobody ever writes it :( you are a fantastic writer

thank youu 🥺 cnc my beloved ugh especially when it’s ill advised and under negotiated and ends in tears <3 but also also~

modern clegan au,. gale meets this real attractive guy at a bar, a little older, rough around the edges but he seems nice enough. and gale’s nervous because he’s never touched a drop of alcohol in his life but he’s had a rough fucking week, wants to see what the fuss is all about, take the edge off the noise in his head. and this guy sits down next to him, and gale’s playing nervously with the straw in his vodka lime soda staring into it, and this guy says ‘hey, doll, you gonna drink that?’

so gale does. he takes a sip, and it sort of stings on the way down, but this cute guy, says his name is john, smiles at him so wide like he’s pleased with him and that smile is like a shot in itself, so gale finishes the drink. and john, he can see this quiet kid is relaxing a bit, so he gets him another. and john’s hardly touching his but gale’s halfway through this second one, and christ he’s a lightweight, so he barely notices he’s the only one getting wasted.

and gale gets a little bold with it, he’s flirting with this guy now, and when john offers to drive him home he accepts because the world is tilting a bit, and he seems so nice.

and when gale kisses his cheek as a thank you as they get back to gale’s, this guy- he won’t leave. he sticks a foot in gale’s door and won’t let him shut it. and this big smile john had, it won’t leave his face as he looks at gale and says ‘you do this a lot?’

gale doesn’t know what he means, goes to say no and sorry, but john’s bullying his way into gale’s apartment and saying ‘you like to lead guys on? you do this a lot, leave good men high and dry? nobody ever told you that’s pretty fuckin rude?’

and gale’s gut twists and he goes to say something else, but john’s switched. he ain’t so friendly anymore. he’s grabbing gale by the hair and throwing him down onto his bed. he’s bigger and stronger, and gale’s head is swimming, and he can’t breathe as john’s tugging his pants down, shoving his face into the pillow so when gale shouts for him to get the hell off him nobody’s gonna hear. and gale’s maybe starting to cry as john fingers him once, twice, then fucks into him with spit and the sheer force of a violent stranger, and gale thinks he might pass out.

and he’s never done this before, either, and he tells this guy as much, begging him not to, he doesn’t understand his body’s reaction when this guy fucks him so deep he’s hitting something gale’s only found with his own shy fingers before, and gale wants to die because he’s getting hard, he’s gonna come from this man roughly taking something gale didn’t want to give. and when he does, just from his cock against the sheets and john splitting him apart, he sobs into the pillow, begs john to get off him bc he’s ruining him, and when john pulls out and flips gale over and puts his hand on his neck he tells him ‘you never saw my face, nobody’s going to believe you’.

and he’s choking gale so tight his eyes are rolling back, and the vodka and the terror and the lack of oxygen make him slip, and he thinks he can hear the ocean rushing in his ears and as john’s grip finally loosens he’s gone.

and when john touches his face, brings him back around, everything’s fuzzy. and gale looks up at him, and he smiles so hard john drags in this breath like he was the one getting throttled.

and gale says, ‘you never asked my name’

and john says ‘shit, buck, where d’you learn to act like that,’ and ‘did you tell the bartender beforehand to just give you soda?’ because of course gale would plan that far ahead, and ‘where did the fucking virgin thing come from?’

and gale says, ‘you told me i could improvise,’ and ‘did you lock the door? never know what kinds of people there are out there these days.’

[franklyimissparis]

i think it’s funny how when some people talk abt alex turner’s potential drug usage it’ll either be like “he has a major drug and alcohol problem it’s so obvious!!!” or “i don’t think he’s the type to have ever even tried a hard drug” as if there isn’t a ton of middle ground between those two extremes

like the man who wrote “why’d you only ever call me when you’re high” and has been a touring musician since he was 19 has obviously fucking been high - and not just with weed - but that also doesn’t mean he’s completely off his head in every interview he’s ever done 😭😭

[waterberry-strawmelon]

just gonna go ahead and say this in advance—

if Riz does indeed come out in junior year, and he says, “I’m ace” or “I’m asexual” when referring specifically to his lack of romantic attraction, aromantic people are allowed to be upset about it.

[mellomadness]

sometimes I wonder if I should take a gender studies class just so I can bitch every day about how an imaginary boyfriend is often seen as a requirement for a woman to feel safe enough to have fun at a club, or the idea that an imaginary person with a fake “claim” over me has more influence over predatory men than my own voice saying “No, I’m not interested, get lost”

[fcthots]

Rules i think you and Jason would have in your relationship:

- there is no jokes about “if I do this for you, you can just sleep with me to pay me back lol.” He does not find it funny at all and will low key lecture you on how sex is never something you owe him.

- you have a safe word for both sex and every day life. It can just mean you’re serious about something or it means for the other person to stop what they’re doing. Either way, if you feel uncomfortable, use it.

- jokes can only go on for a day max. By jokes I mean like if you told him “yeah that singular cabinet has always been painted pink.” After various vigilante incidents, it’s important that he knows what’s real. And if the other person safewords, you HAVE to come clean.

- you can go to bed angry all you want but you will be sleeping in the same bed. At the very very least, in the same room. This came about after you didn’t sleep in bed after a tough fight. Jason woke up alone in a cold sweat after a nightmare where you died. He couldn’t tell what was real and you walked in on him having a panic attack.

- you have a panic code. For instance if he says “mask?” you have to reply “copy” (I have venom on the brain) to confirm you’re ok and vice versa. You cannot intentionally ignore the code. If the person doesn’t respond in a certain time frame, Jason will show up to your location or you will call another bat to go to his.

- you have to at least cc each other on all decisions made in your living space. You wanna change the couch? All good, but let Jason know (he has weapons stashed everywhere).

- if one of you is in a bad mood, you have a code word to relay it to the other person. It doesn’t have to be the other person you’re mad at, but it just lets you say “hey emotions are running high and I want to punch a wall. I’m not going to take a joke well right now.”

- no making fun of the other person crying. There are extenuating circumstances for when you both cry over stupid movies and such, but as a general principle you can only tease about tears in the context of sex.

- speaking of sex, if one of you degrades the other, you have to tell them you didn’t mean it and do aftercare. You cannot just leave or fall asleep. Aftercare is a must.

[crappycamille]

katsuki is always so careful when he fucks you.

it’s more about the fear of himself than is about you being fragile. he knows you’re strong, but it’s just, he becomes so… unhinged when it comes to you.

it’s the way you milk him, he thinks. it’s the way your creamy walls suck him in—aching to be filled by him— before he even has the chance to fully submerge his tip. he swears he gets high off your pussy.

it’s why he has to be careful.

he’s not fully conscious. he gets easily lost in that blissful yet oh-so desperate state… dangerously so. he doesn’t want to hurt his precious baby. so he’s careful. he tries his very best to control himself. for katsuki is a strong man and he knows how easily his baby bruises.

but you’re never one to make things easy on him, are you? he admires that about you most of the time, but you just don’t realize how dangerous you can be, do you?

you’re simply ignorant to it. yes, that’s it! you have to be. it’s the only explanation.

why else would you be taking katsuki’s hand in your own as he’s fucking you (carefully, of course). you’re desperately grasping to take control of his arm as he now has to shift his weight to keep his pace and position. he curiously obliges you. how could he not, especially when you’re this fucked out already.

you drag his hand up along your body until his hand is at the base of your throat. it’s when he feels your hands squeeze around his and a satisfied moan escapes your lips that he truly grasps what you’re doing. you want to be choked.

the realization has a guttural moan leaving his lips as he feels his balls tighten at your debaunched behavior. he picks up the pace, sloppily thrusting into your greedy cunt as the hand choking you grips you like no other.

he can’t control it. he’s squeezing so hard you’re sure there will be bruises to have to explain later. but you don’t care. you’re seeing stars right now. you both are.

warbly moans leave the both of you in harmonious bliss. katsuki swears you’ll be the death of him as he struggles to breathe by the sheer magnitude of his climax. but what does such a trivial matter like breathing mean to him? to either of you?

you’re both far too gone in the highly intoxicating drug that is love.

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny laid across his throne, legs planted across the left arm of the ornate chair and back pressed uncomfortably against the right.

"Listen," Danny started, letting his head flop to the side as he glared at a hovering Observant. "This meeting has wasted enough of my time. You all have been arguing for hours and that's without Clockwork slowing things down."

"Your Majesty, this is a matter of great importance. Belial means to overthrow and rule my-our world!"

"I am distinctly aware aware of that," Ancients, Danny couldn't wait to go home and rid himself of the formal speech he'd had to adopt in order to be taken seriously. Well, as seriously as he cared to be taken when sprawled across his throne instead of sitting on it intimidatingly or something. He slowly placed his gaze on the suddenly still demon sitting across from him. "Yet you've proposed fifteen different plans that were all unviable for whatever reasons you've cooked up. Your conclusion is that I must step in. Does your world not have heroes to take care of it?"

The demon- another lord of hell from this Belial’s universe- fell silent.

“Ah. But if they do, they would also take care of you.”

“No- no, that’s not-”

Danny allowed his voice to drop to the artic freeze he knew his core was capable of. "I opened these these doors to allow all of you to present me with reasonable concerns regarding your own universes and realms. What is not on the table for discussion is your petty politics. Do you think I am unaware of your intentions in tattling to me? That I do not know you are trying to use me to further your own position?"

"Your Majesty, I-" The demon growled out, fear slowly coating its expression.

"It no longer amuses me. You think that I am young and easy to manipulate." Danny froze the demon to its chair. It tried to break free, but Danny isn't the High King of the Infinite Realms for nothing. "Bring to me a miserable problem like this ever again, one that could be easily solved if you used even a smidgen of your intelligence, and you will find exactly how I tore Pariah Dark from his throne."

Not that Danny knew how he did it either, he just did it.

"Yes, Your Majesty. My-my apologies."

The room is dead (Danny patted himself on the back for the pun) silent. Some of the Ancients looked bored, like Clockwork who knew Danny would never hurt them, but everyone else looked close to crying. He held eye contact with the demon until it looked away.

When Danny settled back into the throne and allowed his ice to dissipate, the room let out a collective sigh of relief.

"The next item on the agenda is another demon, by the name of Trigon." Clockwork announced, the large piece of paper comically huge next to his currently toddler-like body.

"Another?"

He flicked an amused look at the previous demon, who kept his trap firmly shut.

"He is attempting to take over multiple worlds in an attempt to conquer the universe. I had thought you would be interested in this one, Your Majesty, as he plans to begin with Earth 135."

Danny stilled. That was his Earth. His haunt.

"Does he know of the Realms?"

"Vaguely, I believe."

"Then he should know the rules. I will wait to see if my Earth's heroes are capable to step to the task."

Danny would be a hypocrite if he doesn’t let the heroes of his Earth try first, even if he is one of those heroes.

"Of course," Clockwork grinned at him, fully aware of the shit Danny's about to stir back home. Ah, the wonders of being able to influence the time stream. Perhaps the young Ghost King will finally get some friends, and maybe get those pesky speedsters to stop making his jobs so hard. Cujo yipped at Danny as the King begrudgingly moved onto the next topic.

——

Raven shuddered as she watched the footage of her "brothers" laughing while steering their human "meatbags" around. She turned back to the giant circle of donated blood and herb filled candles.

“This is a nuclear option, don’t you think?” Green Arrow mumbled, clearly not against it by the half hearted way he’d said it. The Star City billionaire nursed his cracked ribs.

“No,” she floated over to where Zatanna and Constantine kneeled, trying to see if they needed help with the inscriptions. “Trigon is coming soon, and my brothers will no doubt find their way here in a moment. We are out of time.”

“Yeah. Plus, we don’t want Raven to be turned into a portal.” Garfield piped up, switching animal forms rapidly.

“No one dies.” Red Robin muttered. His wrist computer was open, monitoring the surroundings of the open field they found themselves uneasily occupying. Batman grunted in affirmation, eyeing the tree line. Every hero except the magical ones were on look out, preparing themselves for one more battle against the two demons that were trying to take Raven and force her into becoming a portal.

“Hey guys, we might want to hurrythisupbecausethey’re kind of close!” Impulse slammed into the room.

“Done.” Zatanna got up, motioning for everyone to step back. In Superman’s case, he floated back.

“Too bad you won’t get to use it,” a voice drawled, dripping with malice and the screams of a thousand souls.

“Come now, little sister. Why fight fate? Be grateful father has deigned to spare you. If not for your dirty blood being useful, you would be dead, little sister. Give up, before our patience runs out alongside the lives of your little pets.” Another, mocking, voice gleefully rumbled.

Raven would rather gouge out her own heart than to claim these two as any type of family.

“You won’t touch them.” Raven snarled, powers rising even as the marks on her body burned a painful red.

“Buy us some time!”

With that, the group of beaten and battered heroes rose to clash against just two demons, for a chance to save their world.

——

The Circle crackled. Danny felt a tug on his core. He followed the thread of the summoning. Oh. It was his haunt. Earth 135. Hm. It tasted of blood. Desperation? A hint of anticipation. Oh, an overload of fear. Could use some more hope, but Danny understood that it was rather hard to season these kinds of summonings with hope.

“Stop.” Danny commanded, straightening in his chair.

“Sire, we have more-”

“There is an issue with my haunt,” with that, he followed the summons.

——

“Ugh,” was the first thing everybody on the frozen battlefield heard. The demons had smacked away many of the heroes, but they all turned as one when the circle lit up a bright green. “Why do you people always use blood? I’m dead, I don’t need any more iron!”

A boy

Raven’s eldest brother let out a hideous rumble. “You fools tried to summon the king, and you got a dead boy. And now, you’ve doomed another.”

Constantine looked resigned, and regretful. “I am so, so sorry,” he whispered. It was just a kid. John might be a lot of things, but even he found summoning dead kids for demons to devour was just a step too far. “Shite, we got the wrong fucking-”

“Hey, man, that’s rude,” the boy snapped back, waving John off.

“Brother, kill the whelp.”

“I vote on not killing the whelp. Not killing at all, really,” the boy stepped out of the massive blood circle, wrinkling his nose at the drying stains.

“This is not one of your pesky democracies, fool.”

In response, the demons lunged at him, ignoring the screams of the surrounding heroes as they shoved their human arms through the boy’s stomach.

“So,” the boy continues, “I heard your dad was after my haunt?”

“Your haunt, whelp? This earth shall be his! And through him, ours!” Raven slammed against the demons with her power, shadows enlarging and tossing them away from the unharmed… ghost boy?

“Is it?”

——

Wow, these demons are so rude. Normally, it’d be a breath of fresh air compared to the stuffy halls of his throne room. But since they’re attacking his haunt…

“Thanks. You’re… Raven, right?”

Raven nodded, arms outstretched in concentration as she held her brothers back.

“You have to go. We’re- we’re sorry you got pulled into this, but it’s not safe here.”

“Eh. It’s cool. You don’t have to do that anymore, by the way.” Danny stepped forward once more, green skin shifting and gliding as everything about him sharpened. He flew at the demons piloting the human shells, catching them around the necks and dragging the demons out of their stolen bodies. The threw them even further away as he floated in the air, a beacon of green and white. Raven thought it looked like hope.

“My name is Phantom, the High King of the Infinite Realms,” let it be known that Danny always had an eye for dramatic entrances. He shifted into something more off, more eldritch, more kingly. The crown flared to life above his head. “You have invaded my haunt. You have challenged me. What do you plead?”

“You’re not-” they said.

“Wrong answer,” Danny flew at them once more, body contorting into something undeniably terrorizing, his maw unhinging and crunching down on the demons with a sound that made the present heroes cringe.

“Ugh,” Danny grunted, turning back and floating peacefully to the group of heroes- Tucker and Sam would be so stoked he met Wonder Woman and Batman!- and chewed rapidly. He shifted back into his normal form. “Eating demons always leaves me with indigestion. And their bones get everywhere up in my teeth!” Danny pulled out a giant femur looking bone from his mouth, despite it not logically fitting in there.

“Right. No eating demons, solid life advice.” Red Robin said.

“Right? So, you’re Raven! It’s nice to meet you! Think you can summon your dear ol’ dad for me?”

“But we summoned you to stop Trigon, not help him come here.” Superman said, frowning.

“One! That summoning circle is wack. Those things you piled up as offerings? Mid. Also, if you thought you could control me with those terribly written spells, you’re dead wrong. And yes, I am making puns about death.” Danny jabs an aggressive finger towards the shabby circle.

“Have you considered that maybe not every being that can be summoned wants a shit ton of useless blood? Like what if I wanted food? And two, how am I supposed to beat up Trigon if he’s still stuck in the prison realm?”

“I have a cup of coffee,” Nightwing offered. “Kid Flash could probably get you food, right?”

“Yep, surethinganythingyouwantyourMajesty.”

“You wouldn’t catch me alive accepting food from a speedster. You people fuck up the timelines so much,” Danny grumbled, crunching on the last of Raven’s brothers. Raven thought she should probably sit down.

“But you’re dead.” Batman said, something about his voice catching the sharp attention of his protégés who all started making cutting motions at him.

“Fair,” Danny pointed at him, grinning. “I’ll take two pizza and Nightwing’s coffee as payment for taking care of your little demon overlord problem. Raven, summon your dad.”

——

Didn’t much like the characterization of this piece but it’s been in my drafts for a while and I needed it out

[textmel8r]

[ SMAU + DRABBLE ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( fifth installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; sugar mommy! reader , sugar baby! toji , mommy kink , drug + alcohol usage , smut drabble , submissive toji , soft sex , profanity

୨୧˚ an; guys… i don’t know what took over me when i wrote this one….im sorry ,, also yes drabble time, you all knew this would happen eventually don’t act surprised 🙄🙄🙄

come over and show me then

The last message Toji had sent you. He was bold, heart racing just the slightest bit when he thumbed that frightening, little arrow icon to send a text that would most likely change his whole relationship chemistry with you. You, the kind hearted woman who graced him with your undying benevolence and wealth. 

You, the woman Toji called mommy not even twelve hours ago during an idiotic, drunken stupor. 

You, the woman who graced his bed, peering up to him with the softest gaze Toji’d ever been observed with. It was an odd sight–you splayed on his mattress. Dawning a lavish top; silken, Toji absentmindedly recognizes the fabric ( then proceeds to grimace at the fact that he can actually discern between different breeds of fabric. Your lifestyle was rubbing off on him ) and thinks you look out of place. An expensive jewel among the dank cave of his shoddy bedroom.  

Toji crawls in after you, winding up your side, clinging akin to a baby koala bear. Still, he doesn’t speak, preferring to let the sounds of sheets sliding against each other fill the gaps of silence. You take his hulking body in those loving arms and break the quiet. “I’m not buying you for the night.” You cradle his cheek; you make him look up to you and Toji nods under your hand. “You know that, right?”

He nods again. “Sure,” and for once, it comes out without a modicum of sarcasm. Because Toji believes it when you tell him that you’re not looking to gain access to his body through flimsy transactions. Your sincerity is displayed through the months of torturous anticipation. Months of him on the cusp of begging–and Toji Fushiguro has never begged for anything in his goddamned miserable life. Your sincerity is displayed through the gingerness in which you hold his face. Because how could someone with such gentle hands ever tell a lie? And your sincerity is displayed through your words. You tell Toji things that nobody has ever told him before. Nice things, reassuring things despite his insistence on being an asshole to you.

Toji pushes his torso to be propped up on an elbow before he leans in. It’s not a tame first kiss by any means; Toji is mammalian in the way his teeth gnash yours and his tongue laves your cupid’s bow. “Slow,” you whisper in the short absence of his lips. “Slowly.” A command that he feels inclined to follow like some kept mutt, swapping out the animalistic pace with a more refined, controlled tempo. Your face was swallowed by two massive hands; they clamped on either side of your jaw, calloused and dry and forcefully pulling you closer. “Just like that, Toji.”

The way you say his name… Fuck. Toji grunts, swinging a heavy thigh over your own to situate between your legs. “I’ve never,” there's a pause when he leans in to suck the tip of your tongue, “been so desperate to be inside a woman.” His thick tongue worms back into your mouth, pushing smoky saliva down your throat. You were writhing; your hand slides over his, the one still tending to your cheek, and you guide it lower. He let you drag his hand down the smooth slope of your neck, over the hill of your delicate chest, across the plain of your soft tummy to meet the waistband of your designer pants. 

Your head tilts, something devious glinting in the colored rings of your eyes that have Toji so enchanted. He plucks at the brass button of your pants, nudging the point of his nose to the high of your cheekbone. Breathing in the luxury branded perfume that overpowered the cigarette stench still lingering in his room from his morning smoke; evidenced by the stub crumbled in the glass tray on his wobbly nightstand. “What about the girl…Girl from last night?” 

Toji smiles at the breathy question. “What girl?” He hums cheekily against your mouth, letting his tongue slip back through the seam of your delicious lips. You slap his face rather playful, but his breath hitches all the same.

“Dick.”

At last, he pops the button. The acrylic of your nails sink into the meat of his forearm, legs widening, ass shifting; all of the signs that Toji hyperfixated on. The way you tell him to keep going without so much as saying a word has him hotter than anytime another woman has begged for his touch in bed. Toji kisses you as he dips beneath the ajar slacks, then those sheer panties, slipping down to where you needed him most. You’re wet, he notes to himself. Wet, squelching and red hot when his thick middle finger sandwiches itself between the labia. 

Both pairs of legs tangled together amidst the desperation. While Toji touches you, you’re hiking your leg up–the one snuggled between two of the man’s built thighs. It presses to his clothed crotch, and you reach around grab a handful of his ass. “Hump it,” you dictate, using his ass cheek as leverage to pull his hips down against your awaiting thigh. Toji jolts; never had his ass been grabbed like that, but he thinks he likes it.

So he grinds. His groin crashes against your leg with rough enthusiasm, so rough that it should be a threat to your poor femur bone. But he doesn’t let up. Toji’s arm tenses and shakes with exertion as he fingers you, forearm burning from the intensity at which he moves. But he doesn’t let up.

“Fuck,” he huffs. “Fuck.”

What is he, some kind of dog? Chasing his high against a leg, licking your neck, barking obscenities into existence. Had you been anyone else, Toji would have had them bent at the waist over his bed, forcing their face into his lonesome pillow and taking what he needed. But you had this certain authority–you’d always had–as if you owned him. Not that you would ever admit that, nor did you believe it, but Toji did. You pay for his living quarters, his meals, his clothes, his car, hell, his time. The leash was cuffed at his throat, leather digging into his flesh, and he fucking loved it. Toji would wait for your instructions like a well behaved puppy. 

“Take my pants off,” you utter, and it’s only then does Toji realize that the both of you hadn’t bothered shedding any layers, taking favor in rutting clothed bodies together like a couple of immature teens. His hips pause their humping, and his tongue finds one long, last lick to your jugular before pulling back.

Two thumbs hook beneath both layers of material at your hips. “Can’t believe you made me wait this long,” he mutters offhandedly, dragging your pants down. 

You’re bare. His mouth waters at the sight of glistening moisture between your legs, encapsulated by a dusting of hair. Toji stares, nestled on his knees, straddling your thigh. He just stares.

“I told you my reasons,” you say.

He doesn’t respond to that. “I want to fuck you.”

Your chest rises. Are you arching for him? “Ask me.” When he cocks a confused brow, you lightly elaborate. “Show me some of that respect I taught you and ask me nicely.”

The sole of your foot caresses his pec over the black tee shirt he sports, a gentle notion that he is allowed to take his time. Toji doesn’t need time though; he’s got your twisted little request all figured out. It’s funny, he shouldn’t have expected any less. To him, respect didn’t exist in the bedroom, but Toji would make an exception. “Will you let me fuck you tonight?” You’re not letting him get off that easy, your pointed eyes say it all. So, in an uncharacteristically piteous voice, the man adds “please, ma’am” and strokes your calf for good measure.

That does it. 

Your legs spread, arms racing up to coil around the thick post of his neck. He lets you pull him down, lets you kiss him tenderly, lets your tongue curl behind his teeth. Toji groans, reaching a sticky hand down to clumsily shove his sweatpants around his ass. “You have no–” kiss “idea what you–” kiss “you do to me–” kiss, kiss “when you call me that.”

His length drags over your core, hot and heavy and thick and raw. He doesn’t move to grab a condom knowing damn well there’s a box that sits in his nightstand to the left of them. A box that has been forgotten, left untouched in the waking months of his realization that he doesn’t want to fuck other people. Why would he? When you take such good fucking care of him, what’s the point in sleeping around anymore?

“Be grateful,” Toji husks, rubbing up against the warmth beneath him. “‘M never this nice in bed.”

“I’m not, either.”

He throbs at that. A small hand snakes behind his head, weaving into the raven shag of his hair, and tugs. “I really never meant for this to happen.” Toji narrows those steely eyes at you. “To end up in your bed, I mean. I thought I had more resolve than this.”

Too bad money can’t buy resolve, he thinks inwardly. Hand still between bodies, Toji jerks himself slowly, soaking his tip in your entrance. His gaze is glued to your face, flitting amidst all the gorgeous features it had to offer. “I knew I’d get you here eventually,” he speaks with a lilt of confidence, prodding the point of his nose to yours. And then he pushes inside without warning. You’re gooey; a hot, wet heat encasing his body from head to toe. He feels you shudder, feels nails in his nape. He feels your sticky breaths on his cheek, feels your pillowy thighs squish against his hip bones. Toji serves you the entire length in one slow thrust, holding himself inside. “Fuck.”

“Slow,” you warn once more in a broken voice. His hair was grabbed again, you used it as a makeshift handlebar to yank Toji’s head down. His handsome face plummeted into the divot between your breasts, still gift wrapped in that undoubtedly overpriced shirt. His nose pressed to your sternum, taking deep inhales. 

Slow. 

Slow sex was unfamiliar territory to Toji, one among the list of foreign concepts you had introduced to him during your time together. Fucking was animalistic practice between two people, fast-paced and greedy and surprisingly lonely. Toji fucked with the intention of climaxing; intimacy is irrelevant. Was irrelevant. 

Toji slips a hand beneath your back, locking a grip on the underside of your shoulder to weld your chest to his face. Slow, timely thrusts met your cunt, watery squelches filled the room. “Oh, fuck.”

Your hands wander. Crawling down the base of his spine, breezing over his tail bone, clutching his bare ass. Guiding him in a way, and he doesn’t entirely mind. “My boy,” you moan in the throes of pleasure, a free hand blindly feeling for the back of his sweaty neck. Fingers stroke the precious skin there, sensitive flesh that nobody has ever paid attention to, not even himself. Toji trembles.

“Take it,” he whispers back, as if he still had any semblance of control. But you let him, and he thinks you’re too fucking nice for sparing his pride like that. “Take it, goddamn it.”

“Yes, my sweet boy.”

Idiotic. He is no longer a boy, nor does he even slightly compare to anything sweet. God, if you knew him. If you knew what he did for work… How many people he’s gutted and bled like livestock for quick cash… You would leave. He knows this to be a fact of life, you’re simply too moralistic and caring and selfless to keep in contact with a monster like him.

“Let mommy take care of you.”

Oh Jesus Christ, he’s done for. You wax praises so sincere that Toji starts to let himself believe he’s good. He pretends he’s worthy of being here with you right now in this bed, with your lithe fingers petting his damp hair and your breasts against his cheek, and fucks you harder. The toes of two socked feet bury into the mattress.

You successfully conquered his flimsy pride. “Mom… my…,” Toji breathes out, stifling down the impending whine caught at the back of his esophagus. He bucks deep inside, pubic bone to pubic bone, and grabs a handful of tit. So fucking soft even under this stupid shirt.

The sex plays out this way until the very end. A gentle tango that reminds Toji he hadn’t actually fucked in missionary position for some time. But at last, you came around him. “Toji, baby I’m here.” As if you were charged with electricity, you twitched and jumped beneath him. Toji fucked you through it, grinding his hips in a trajectory that caught your clit with his pubic hair. The friction was passionate, and you came with your jaw unhinged on a silent yelp.

“Give it to me,” he rasped, tongue lolling out to lick at your cleavage through your shirt. Drool rolled down the palate, collecting into a small puddle and dampening the fabric. A messy puppy, drooling all over you like that. Toji fucked harder, much too hard to be considered ‘slow’ anymore, but you didn’t stop him.

“Come on.” A hand dips beneath the collar of Toji’s tight shirt, scratching the ever loving fuck out of his upper back. “Cum baby boy.”

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuckfuckfuck.” The thrusts halt abruptly; Toji rams himself deep inside and holds onto you for dear life. There’s a brief pause before he empties himself into the deepest depths of your pussy, twitching as he does so. You coo, talking him through it with an inoffensive hand raking his bangs back. They stick, his sweat acting like a sort of natural gel, and Toji’s forehead is on display. You drag him up and press your lips to it—he flushes and drops back onto you, hiding in your neck.

Toji gasps on his come down, gulping in air through his nose. He’s weak and it’s strange. Despite the stupid amount of strength trapped within that Herculean body, Toji cannot find it in him to hover anymore. His entire weight drops onto your much tinier frame, but he hears no objections so he keeps himself there.

“Worth the buildup?” You ask at last, rubbing soothing circles into the plates of his shoulder blades. Your voice is a little strained, no doubt the effects of a two-hundred-and-something-pound man crushing your lungs, but Toji likes the funny grate of it in his ears.

“You already know the answer.” It’s written in the way your cum mixes together and wets the crease of his inner thighs. He’s not exactly going to say that was the most intimate and passionate sex i’ve ever had, but he’ll show you how much it meant to him by letting you cradle him to your chest.

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tags . • @4imhry @sugurubabe @mastermasterlist1p1 @mikisspeak @fluttershyfangs @iluv-ace @xstom @bratbby333 @mizzfizz @sserafin @wo-ming-bai @maexc @r0ckst4rjk @aesukuni

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, yandere, omegaverse, forced bonding, subjugation, some type of discrimination, elements of androgyny

♡ fem reader

Thinking about the big and burly behemoth Omega finally finding himself the cutest little Alpha to breed with…

He could never bring himself to breed with Alphas. Growing up, he developed a great disdain for them—all high and mighty rabid animals prone to violence, more often than not completely dimwitted to top it off, as if their massive ego had usurped the place of basic brain operation.

He couldn’t hate them more, yet he doesn’t correct anyone when they mistake him for one, either. In many ways, he wished he was born one instead of an Omega. It would make it easier to fulfill his desires that way. A dominant Omega isn’t all that normal, after all—and submissive Alphas are an even rarer breed to come by.

He hadn't found one yet. And other Omegas don’t really do it for him. They approach him, thinking he’s an Alpha, then feel disappointed when figuring out he’s not—which is fine, as he isn’t particularly interested in their scent either. Betas make for an okay compromise—they don’t care if he’s an Omega, it makes no difference to them—yet he could never really shake the feeling that something was missing when lying with them.

At the office, the scent of Alphas plagues him all day—how they strut around, stinking up the place with no concern for anyone else. This is a workplace, for fuck’s sake—can’t they have a little dignity and not treat it like a mating ground? He really hates them. All bigheaded assholes—

“Ow—” there’s bark and a hard thunk of something hitting the floor.

Someone just bumped into him—someone so small he hadn’t even seen them over the top of his clipboard. Looking down, he sees a fellow Omega—a pretty one. You must be as disoriented by the scent around you as he is—probably why you walked right into him—poor thing. He ought to help you up.

You hold your head in your hand, wincing at the sting of your rear—you’d fallen right on your tailbone. Looking up, you give the fellow Alpha who’d knocked you down a mean glare, “What the hell, asshole!”

His outstretched hand stiffens midway. That’s not a very Omega-like thing to say—especially not by one so small as you. No, wait… what’s that scent?

You ignore his hand and get up on your own, dusting down your pin-stripes with angry brushes—face pursed, almost pouty, but not quite, too stink-eyed as you lean in and jab a finger into his chest to punctuate your words, “Watch where you’re going next time, you…”

You soften up halfway through the sentence. It must have dawned on you as well. His scent. Not like other Alphas, but something else entirely—something that suddenly makes you blush all over, wide-eyed.

You don’t say another word, only giving a weak huff before turning tail and stomping away.

There’s something very cute about it—he’s left thinking while watching you, utterly stunned and still, replaying the events that just occurred over and over in his head—wondering how he’d never seen you before. You must work on a different floor.

Luckily, he’d made sure to read your name tag—pinned all properly on your chest like a badge of honor, neatly like the rest of you. Well put together from the top of your salon-styled hair down to the tips of your pointy black stilettos. Even with their added height, you must have been two heads shorter than him—no taller than any regular Omega.

It's no wonder he mistook you for one. You were as cute as one, too—like a doll he could put behind glass, up on a mantle, and keep forever. But oh my… that mouth on you and that awful snarl. Just like any other imposing Alpha, he supposed. Bratty and arrogant, quick to jump the gun and pick a fight instead of taking it for the simple accident it was.

He goes back and sets himself down by his desk—but he’s way too distracted to work now, too busy with the thought of you. That flushed face you showed him before teetering off was something he wouldn’t mind seeing again—also that cute scowl under certain circumstances and what type of expression you’d give him if he wiped it off.

He's lucky an office party came along so quickly. He wouldn’t usually go, but now he had a reason. He bet you’d be there—the way you were dressed when you’d bumped into him tells him you’re one to respect the memo—head to toe in such a neat suit, trying to come off as androgynous as if in desperation needing everyone to know you were an Alpha. It must be hard for you—looking like that but wanting to look… well, suppose more like him.

He's glad he never felt that way—wishing to be smaller and cuter like other Omegas. Sure, he’s been envious of them at times, but more so of their easy pickings and not their appearance. He’s happy being bigger and stronger—it keeps unwanted attention at bay. You probably struggle to do the same. He bets you get a lot of the wrong eyes following you. Yeah… you must attract the bad sort all the time—alphas swarming you only to catch your scent and lose interest. Or maybe not… Alphas are sick, after all. Come to think of it, most of them would probably get off on dominating another Alpha. In that regard, it must have been worse for you than for him. Luckily, both of your issues are now solved.

He wondered what you’d wear tonight. You’d look much better in something feminine and not that suit you’d been wearing. He hopes, but no, you’re wearing much the same thing—another tailored two-piece that all but drowns you.

He understands what you’re going for. You have to dress like that, or else what Omega would ever want you looking the way you do? Aside from him, of course.

No matter. When you move in with him, he’ll dress you in all the pretty things he knows you want to wear. After all, pretty colors, ruffles, and lace will suit you so much better.

“Hello again.” He approaches you by the hors d’oeuvres even after you’d visibly and explicitly chosen to ignore him.

You groan under your breath, responding without even bothering to look at him, “Do I know you?”

Your tough act is cute. He has to withhold a chuckle before answering, “Don’t remember? You called me an asshole a week ago.”

“You walked right into me, so it’s not like it wasn’t deserved.”

You have to love that arrogance—that air of unfounded superiority. He wonders, where do you keep it all? “Well, how could I not? You’re so small I didn’t even see you.”

You’re quick to bare your teeth—obviously, he hit a nerve—showing him that same snarl you’d done back then. Cute little canines—he bet they won’t even hurt going into his neck once you mark him.

“Watch your mouth, Omega.”

Still, with a small smile, he feigns surprise. “Wow—are you an Alpha? Funny, I didn’t know they came in such tiny packages.”

It flusters you, no doubt—your brows lowered into a full glower now. “And I didn’t know Omegas could be so rude.”

You turn to stomp again, as you’d done before—though this time, he grabs your arm before you’re gone.

You whip around with another bark, “Hands off—"

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes unexpectedly, giving you puppy-dog eyes you hadn’t thought him capable of. “I should have been more mindful of my steps. It was entirely my fault.”

You go still at the sudden show of humility and respect. Finding yourself softening by the tilt of his head, bowing at you in acknowledgment of your higher standing. Not that many bother doing that to you—between mistaking you for an Omega or otherwise neglecting your standing as an Alpha, both due to your physique. Seeing it up close and so abruptly flusters you.

“Let me get you a drink to make up for it?” he offers politely, almost in plead.

Struck with feelings of somewhat regret for your own uncouth attitude, you nearly accept on a whim. “That’s kind…” But then think it over. You don’t really want to lead him on, either. You nearly stutter, yet steal yourself. After all… “But you’re not really my type.”

He hangs his head with a dejected sigh, “That’s harsh.” But he’d already figured as much and didn’t really care. Giving you his most sorry grin, he insists, “Humor me anyway? Just one drink so I don’t feel like an asshole for the rest of my life.”

It’s clear you want to refuse—still, as suspected, your heart just can’t handle seeing a desperate Omega in need. Bless your dim Alpha instincts.

“Okay, fine. One drink, that’s all,” you end up agreeing. One drink can’t hurt, right?

You feel like a good Samaritan once the big hunk of an Omega runs off to fetch you a glass. Pitying him or even sympathizing, maybe—it can’t be easy for an Omega in the mating scene to look like that. No Alpha around would want an Omega bigger than them—it’s utterly emasculating, not to mention unnatural.

Of course, you’re aware you’re in much the same shoes as him—you’re not delusional. Only, it’s easy being an independent Alpha—you don’t mind being a lone wolf in the world—but Omegas were built to be domestic. So yeah, you pity him—the poor guy, he’ll probably never find a proper mate.

But you can’t let your pity grant him too many favors—you have no intention of taking on any charity case tonight, especially not a pity fuck. You’ll have one drink with him as a mutual apology. That’s all.

Luckily… one drink is all he needs. Add a little sprinkle of this and that in your glass, and you’re already in the palm of his hand.

He has to carry you bridal style before he’s even managed to lead you to the elevator—it’s empty all the way down to the garage. He puts you in his car, locks your seatbelt in place, then drives off. It’s honestly quite astounding how easy it had been. He’d thought trapping an Alpha would be a much more remarkable feat, an impossible one for an Omega—but this was no different from eating an unguarded piece of cake.

You’re drowsy as he carries you into his apartment. And that’s when the other drug kicks in. The overwhelming scent of being inside his nest sets off your rut like a matchstick being ripped along the red.

Your claws come out, puncturing his sheets as he lays you down on his bed.

You’re too delirious to do much but writhe—making it easy for him to unbutton your dress shirt, followed by your slacks. He has to scoff at your plain black boxers and binder bra. You poor thing, always trying to run with the big dogs when you’re no bigger than a bite-sized puppy. From now on, you’ll only wear lacey things he brings home for you. You won’t have to puff your chest—you can be as sweet and pretty as your delicate physique constitutes—his cutest, littlest, most perfect mate.

You gain newfound strength once he’s peeled your underwear down, baring your needy heat to his touch. Instantly, your arms spring into action, flinging themselves around him, pouncing like a predator at its prey with your fangs bared.

He stops you easily—placing his wrist between your teeth, using it as a muzzle. He chuckles, looking at you gnaw on it like a bone.

“I think the world has it all wrong,” he starts, though he’s not sure you’re even capable of understanding speech in your state. “Omegas are the ones better suited as leaders of society, not Alphas.”

As he talks, he continues with his ministrations, stroking your needy slit with a mean finger, swiping it cruelly before splitting between the folds.

“I mean, look at you—mindless in a rut, willing to pounce on anything that moves—like a wild animal.” Once he sticks his finger inside you, your teeth do his wrist the same justice—drawing blood, making him hiss through his smile, “I ought to keep you in a cage.” And yet he doesn’t pull either hand away. “It would suit you well—on your knees with a pretty leash and collar upon your throat.”

You’re wet in his hand—soaked and so warm he loses track of his own finger as if melting within you. His cock strains against his boxer, wanting to feel it for himself. But you’re still way too tight for that.

He feeds you another digit, and you moan—suckling on his wrist now more than biting, though still with your canines out and seeking.

“Look at these wittle teeth, tch—” he grins upon closer inspection, looking between them and your eyes—pupil-fat orbs, far gone in your instincts. “I bet they’re just itching for my neck instead, huh?”

The provocation seems to make you more desperate. Pumping you slowly, more so to stretch you out than stimulate, he can feel your breaths turn thicker with need, how you press your tongue against his wrist, wet and lousy, wanting for more.

“Well, go on then, Alpha...” He chuckles again, removing his arm from barring your mouth before wrapping your throat with the same hand, holding it like a collar, keeping you under control.

And then he bares his neck for you.

“I give my consent.”

♡ part two

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Amajiki ♡ JJK – Gojo, Geto ♡ HQ – Kuro, Oikawa, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Bachira, Isagi ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[brokenmenswhore]

Hi! I see you wrote that you’re going to start writing for Marauders? I was wondering if maybe you could write a fic where the reader is dating one of the boys and they keep doing stuff in front of the others, and the others are all frustrated and horny? You can decline if you want!

don’t look | poly!marauders

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader, remus lupin x fem!reader

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), voyeurism, language

part 2

────── ☾ ──────

Remus was never shy around his friends, but he wasn’t decent, either. He didn’t understand what the big deal was about fucking you when they were around. He wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it, and he didn’t care if James or Sirius heard you, as long as they didn’t look.

He started touching you when they were around, causing you to blush and push him off of you.

“Relax, Y/N, they don’t care,” he said.

“I care,” you retorted, “you aren’t gonna rub me off in front of everyone in this dorm room.”

“Why not?” he pouted, continuing his actions no matter what. It felt too good to stop him, and besides, what did you have to be ashamed of? You always spoke of sex positivity, and it isn’t anything the other boys haven’t heard before.

When Sirius and James started to hear your whimpers, they looked over at you from their beds, and Remus glared at them.

“What the fuck are you two looking at?” he asked, slowly inserting a finger into your hole.

“Fuck do you mean?” James asked, “you’re fucking her in front of us.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re allowed to see her like this,” Remus replied, and that was enough to make it clear to the boys that they were not to look at you when they heard Remus work you up.

But there you were, spread eagle on the couch, Remus’s tongue inside of you while his thumb circled and flicked at your bud.

You couldn’t stop the moans that poured out of your lips, your hands pulling at Remus’ hair, causing him to moan into your hole.

“Shit, Rem,” you sighed out, whines and whimpers filling up the room.

Sirius was sat across from you, trying his hardest to keep his attention on the books in his lap.

You let out a particularly filthy moan, and Sirius couldn’t help but sneak a peek. You threw your head back, your chest rising and falling rapidly. He thought you looked so pretty.

Remus had his back turned to Sirius since he was kneeling on the floor in front of you, so Sirius saw no issue in keeping his gaze on you.

Remus ate you like a man starved, gripping your thighs to keep them open as you pushed his head closer to your cunt.

Your moans were growling louder, and you were completely unashamed of it. “Rem!” you squealed as the feeling grew and grew.

You tilted your head down to watch Remus eat you, and your eyes caught Sirius’ on the way down. He was looking straight at you. You thought about maybe signaling to Remus, but you honestly didn’t care. “Don’t look” was Remus’ rule, not yours, and besides, Sirius was hot.

You whined as you stared Sirius, Remus’s fingers moving faster and faster as you began to clench around his tongue. Your high hit you like a train, and you fought to keep your eyes open and trained on Sirius.

Sirius shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable in his pants, as he watched you come and then come down from your high. Your breathing started to still and Remus looked up at you, noticing you staring forward. He whipped his head around, making direct eye contact with Sirius.

“Sirius!” he screamed.

Sirius shot up and leaped over the couch, running out of the room as Remus chased him.