#every day going back and forth between home and campus. i know now that i need to do independent things and i

[pepprs]

hi im going to leave chicago in a few hours. i don’t want to come home

[cumikering]

University Gaz x reader 2

2.7k | fluff You remembered why Kyle seemed familiar (part 1) (part 3)

It was silly how you couldn’t stop thinking of the kind stranger who held you in the dark.

Kyle had taken your number at your door that night, but the days of silence chipped away at your blooming hopes. You didn’t even know him - you’d only met him once! While he seemed awfully familiar, you knew nothing more than his first name, major and that your classmate knew him.

Maybe he was just being nice. He was nice.

But that Wednesday afternoon, you turned to the voice calling out for you only to meet Kyle’s gorgeous smile.

Your stomach flipped, and you couldn’t help returning it as he jogged towards you out of the pitch in his rugby kit. While you weren’t surprised to see him on campus, you never realised he played even when you passed the pitch almost every day.

“Heading home?” he asked, drops of sweat running down the side of his face.

He stood a few feet away from you, and the distance was jarring because there had been a lot less last time. You took a beat, noting how his shirt emphasised his shoulders and chest while his shorts, the university’s logo embroidered in the corner, showcased his muscular thighs.

You realised then why he’d looked so familiar. It was embarrassing that who he was never occurred to you sooner.

“No, I���m tutoring Saybastian again.” You shifted your weight. “I’m grabbing a snack with a friend before I go over.”

“Oh, I was hoping I could walk you home after practice.” He pointed behind his shoulder with his thumb.

You glanced past him, at his equally-drenched mates on the benches who couldn’t hide their amusement as they observed the exchange.

“Well, maybe next time then,” he reassured with a smile.

Your heart raced. Did you miss him that much?

“Break’s over, Gaz! Let’s go!” The guy with a mohawk bellowed in a Scottish accent from the edge of the pitch, passing a ball back and forth between his hands.

He turned and called back, “Just a second!”

“Is this how you knew Saybastian? I know he plays too.”

Kyle laughed, running his fingers through his short hair. “Yeah, he’s in my team. He’s been skipping practice and he’s terrified of getting kicked out.”

“That explains why he looked like he was going to piss himself last week.”

“Hope he hasn’t been giving you more trouble.”

You shook your head. “He’s paid upfront.”

“Smart lad.” He nodded approvingly with an amused smile. “Are you into rugby?”

“I know next to nothing about it.” You chuckled sheepishly. “I’ve never even watched any of our matches.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal,” he teased, before his smile faded at the realisation. “Come on, it’s our uni’s pride and joy! Tell me you’re taking the piss.”

You laughed. “I’m serious. If I had, I’d have recognised you.”

He hummed, tilting his head. “How so?”

You averted your gaze as your lips pressed into a thin line, cheeks heating up. You didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Over your time in university, you’d heard of “rugby Kyle” in passing, praised for his skills on the pitch by the lads, his looks by the ladies, and academic achievements by the professors. You might have even seen an article or two of him on the bulletin board. But had you been to a match, of course you’d have remembered someone as beautiful as he was.

“Oi, Garrick!” the Scot called again.

“Coming!” he replied, not taking his eyes off yours.

You averted your gaze, a small smile on your lips. “You should go.”

“I meant it when I said I wanted to take you out. I know classes are getting busy, but are you free this weekend?”

You nodded.

“I can’t wait.” He reached out for your hand, but immediately caught himself and balled his fist before he made contact. “Sorry,” he said under his breath with a sheepish smile. “I’ll text you,” he stepped backwards.

You waved goodbye and with that, he sprinted back towards the pitch.

You walked away with flutters in your stomach, rubbing the back of your hand he almost touched. How could you stop thinking about him now?

It took too many days after the lift incident before Kyle saw you again. He didn’t know why he was so surprised to see you when you both went to the same university, but he would have been more presentable had he known your schedule beforehand.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to. You didn’t have to know he’d been buzzing to text you ever since that night. Sure, he’d let you know that he’d arrived home safely after walking you. You thanked him again for the evening, but that was it.

He could have, and should have, texted you. But how could he be sure he didn’t come off too strong? But when the thoughts of how sweet and adorable you were plagued his, he grew impatient. He promised to himself he’d text you with good news.

He wanted to be helpful, see? He’d been asking his mates for a spare bike you could use, and while no one had one, they knew something was up. Gaz fell off one as a teen and never wanted to get on one again.

Regardless, he’d made up his mind to text you anyway that night after practice. But what sort of coincidence was it that you passed the rugby pitch that fine afternoon?

Despite being drenched in sweat and caked with mud, he had to call your name out and jog to you as you smiled at him. The team’s teasing looks didn’t help the butterflies in his stomach, but he probably deserved the teasing for waiting so many days to text.

With how happy your smile made him, he shouldn’t have waited that long. While the accidental meeting quenched his thirst, he meant it - he couldn't wait to see you again.

That evening after practice, Kyle did some revising before deciding he was in no mood to (or more precisely he had no capacity to) with something else occupying his mind. You were right there in his building! He paced his kitchen before he finally braved himself to leave his flat.

What could he have said to Saybastian? He was missing an ingredient for dinner? It was a terrible excuse – his teammate was notorious for his takeout habit. Or perhaps, he wanted to make sure he was learning diligently, even when it was none of his business.

Kyle felt silly going through his catalogue of excuses in front of his mate’s door, but if he’d stayed in his flat, he’d have convinced himself to never leave. Like then, when he finally decided to abort mission, the door cracked open behind him, making him whip to it.

You blinked up at him as you stepped out the door. “Oh, Kyle, hi.”

“Gaz?” Saybastian perked up behind you. “Is something the matter?”

“No- I-” He laughed to himself.

“I've paid her in advance!”

“Good.” He nodded as he composed himself. “Good to know everything’s in order. You have a nice evening now, mate.”

“O-okay. I’ll see you at practice though, right?” he asked, worry in his voice.

“You know the rule.”

“Yes, I won’t be late. I promise!”

He nodded and closed the door before turning to you. “Well, I wanted to say hi.”

You laughed. “Hi.”

“You hungry?”

“Will be in a bit, was thinking of grabbing something on my way home.”

“Want to cook with me?”

Kyle had missed that smile. He helped you with your bag before leading you to the kitchen.

“You already started?” you asked, taking in the prepped ingredients laid out on the counter.

He chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah, wanted to try my luck, see if you were still around.”

You rolled your hoodie sleeves up your arms and washed your hands. “Okay, how can I help?”

“While I start the pasta, you can help with the garlic bread, if you don’t mind.”

Kyle took out more ingredients from the fridge while you prepared the baguette. He sautéed the colourful veggies as you buttered the bread. Gentle sizzling filled the quiet room, as did the delicious aroma.

“How long have you been playing?” you asked.

“Since I was in my nappies. The whole family loves rugby.”

“Saybastian mentioned you’re getting scouted.”

He laughed, glancing at you mid-stir. “Talking about me now, huh?”

“He says you’re a legend, a top-scorer in your first year and was made captain for the second. He’s a huge fan.”

“I’m flattered, thank you.” He smiled. “Yeah, I do want to get into the elite league, but we all know how cut-throat the competition is, so who knows.”

“You always wanted to go pro?” You sprinkled salt over the neatly lined garlic bread in the baking tray.

“I don’t want to jinx it, but I’m hoping for the best. Whatever happens, at least I know I’d still enjoy an engineering job.” He paused. “But in another life, I’d probably be a soldier, maybe a police officer.”

“I think you’d look nice in a uniform.”

He whipped to you, but you weren’t quick enough to hide that smile as you turned to the oven with the tray. His heart skipped a beat. Were you flirting with him?

“I wanted to ask,” he started after he’d composed himself, dropping the pasta into the pot of boiling water. “We have a match next Wednesday. I can get you a spare ticket, if you’re interested.”

You slid the tray into the oven and turned back to him still with that teasing smile. “If that’s not too much of a hassle. Don’t want to get in trouble for never watching any of our matches.”

He laughed. He didn’t mind doing the arresting at all.

Kyle didn’t think he was a particularly impressive cook, but the joy on your pretty face during dinner soothed him. You chatted as you ate before helping him clean up. Not long after, you thanked him once more and excused yourself home.

“Okay, let’s go,” he said, stuffing his phone and wallet into the pockets of his sweats.

You blinked. “What are you doing?”

“I’ll walk you home.”

“Kyle, I’m not letting you do that. It’s 30 minutes each way and it’s getting late.”

“Exactly.”

“You’ve been so nice.” You placed your hand on his. “Please, I’ll be fine.”

He searched your eyes.

“You must be tired from practice as well.”

A small smile teased his lips. “Promise you’ll let me next time?”

“Yes, if it’s not so late.”

“Okay,” he said, eyes sliding your hand that just touched his. His heart shouldn’t be fluttering so hard, should it? “Would you let me know when you’re home?”

You nodded, and the eye contact remained for another moment before you stepped in with a small smile. He gave you a squeeze and walked you to the lifts, watching as you waved before the steel doors shut.

He smiled to himself as he headed back to his. He’d wanted to kiss your cheek again, but didn’t want to push his luck. He’d see you again that weekend for a date, he reminded himself, but that only made him squeal internally as he locked his door.

Could Kyle Garrick be any more charming?

That Saturday afternoon, he showed up at your door with that gorgeous smile. You look lovely, he said, giving you a once over that made your heart flutter.

He helped you lock up and offered his hand which you took gladly. His grip was firm and warm as he led you to a restaurant near the park.

He didn’t have to know how many glances you tried to steal (even though you had an inkling he knew anyway). He was effortless in his plain white t-shirt topped with a light jacket paired with jeans and boots. This time, he donned a dark grey beanie instead of a cap - making him look extra cosy -  while his stylish black watch tied his look together. You were glad you put in the effort that day too so you weren’t underdressed.

After lunch, he took you on a walk at the park accompanied by ice cream before you headed to watch a movie you’d been looking forward to. There, he too held your hand and eventually wrapped his arm around your shoulders as you leaned against him.

This wasn’t the first time you were in such proximity to each other. Still, it made your heart race, and yet he made you feel safe - even from the get go in that lift. You turned to look up at him, only to find a small smile on his lips, illuminated by the light from the screen dancing across his pretty face.

You didn’t look away fast enough when he turned to you. He gave your hand a squeeze.

At the end of the night as Kyle walked you home, he picked up a small packet of gummy bears you shared the rest of the way. Were you only imagining that his steps slowed as your building neared?

Maybe you could ask if he wanted to get another pack of gummies... But no, you shouldn’t hold him any longer. It was late and he’d been so kind to get you home. You shouldn’t be selfish, but your fingers curled tighter around his toned forearm.

“I’ll hand you the ticket on Tuesday after class?” He turned to you at your door. “I’ll have an hour before my next one, but maybe we can grab some lunch too if you have the time?”

You nodded. “Sounds good.”

His gaze slid to your lips for a split second before going back to your eyes. Your stomach flipped as he flashed you a smile, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

It bloomed a bashful smile that you wore to bed.

You started texting throughout the day, checking in here and there, updating you about his day.

Your reminder to rehydrate, Kyle texted Tuesday morning in class, along with a selfie of him grinning with his eyes shut next to his oversized water bottle.

You let out a small laugh. He was so adorable, but you didn’t want to be caught staring at him too long. You took a few sips and took a selfie as you rested your chin on your bottle. Roger, copy and check, sir

Before the class was over, another text came in.

I’m sorry, love, I’m held up in class :( I’m afraid I won’t get a chance to see you before the match tomorrow. Can I ask one of my mates to hand the ticket over?

Sure, but I don’t mind waiting a bit

I don’t know how long this will be :/ just told Johnny where to meet you

After class, you waited outside your hall. Soon enough, you turned towards the gruff Scottish voice calling for you. You remembered him: the lad with the mohawk.

“Never got to introduce myself the other day. Am Johnny,” he said with a friendly smile. “From Gaz.” He handed you a box of granola bars with a ticket on top of it.

You retuned his smile. “Thanks so much for taking the time, Johnny.”

“Did you know that’s his favourite flavour? He never shares with anyone - not even with me, his vice-captain!” He pointed at himself. “Can you believe it? He must really like you.”

You averted your gaze as you laughed. “We can share if you want,” you said, tearing off the box.

“Really?” His bright blue eyes lit up.

You handed him two bars. “Thanks again, Johnny.”

“Thank you.” He clutched them against his chest. “I’ll personally see to it you get the best seat. See tomorrow, yeah?”

You nodded. “Go well.”

With that, he walked off with a grin as he unwrapped a bar. When you turned away, you gripped the strap of your bag as you lost the battle with the smile from the little comment.

Masterlist Guitarist Gaz

@tiredmetalenthusiast @trashitytrashitytrash @ohlawdthebirds @winnieb00 @ltbarnes

@eve-lie @mangoguy @rowanyaboats @guineapigzwei @ghostalina

[literaila]

bad day

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru can take things seriously... seriously, he can(not).

warnings: lil angst, fluffy, the children are side characters (not), tiny little argument (very tiny), nanami mention!?!?@@?#

a/n: i was going to write a cute valentines day thing but instead i overanalyzed the way all of these characters push their emotions away and here were are (: (also sorry yall i was buried beneath the earth for a couple days)

last part | next part

*

year two.

satoru has been watching you for at least three minutes. he tries to pretend that his eyes flicker away every couple of seconds—checking his phone or laughing at something or doing anything but staring—but he knows that his eyes never drift for long. 

it’s not his fault, actually. on any normal day he’s usually staring at you—discreetly, he swears—watching your smile when he says something stupid, or your frown when he’s messing around. your eyes when they’re tired, your lips when they’re moving (or staying still, honestly). 

but this isn’t his usual method of observing you. with the back and forth and the peering gaze. 

and because he took off his glasses as soon as he got home, he knows that you should be able to tell. 

but you haven’t said anything, which is the second sign that something is wrong. 

“what’s going on?” he asks after the silence has faded into something uncomfortable. 

his usual tactic is to wait for you to notice the silence and say something, but it’s not working. honestly, satoru’s not even sure if you know that he’s still there. usually, the two of you pick up on each other like magnets, just drawn closer, an obvious pull between your presences. 

but you’re kinda far away, leaning back every time he leans forward. 

“what?” you look up, finally, eyes wide with surprise. he might as well have just caught you stealing something. “what?” you repeat, less shocked. 

“what happened?” 

if you were a normal person, you would be radiating negative energy, he thinks. 

you sigh, shaking your head. you think he’s joking—which is the point of his tone, of his words—but he’s not. just trying to get you to roll your eyes or push him away or tell him to go somewhere else. 

anything you might usually do.

but you only frown, looking away again. “satoru, what are you talking about?” 

“you.” he answers, quickly. “this… this.” he gestures to all of you. 

“nothing,” you slap his hand back, finally rolling your eyes. “i'm fine. i'm good.” 

“the kids say something?” 

“nothing unusual. tsumiki asked if she could go to dinner with a friend friday night—“ 

“what about you?” 

“what about me?” 

“you’re frowning.” 

you sigh. “cause i'm trying to make dinner and you’re distracting me.” 

but you falter a little bit because he’s not wrong. 

satoru can see it. and you’re a terrible liar. 

“hey,” he pulls you away from the counter, getting your eyes on his. “talk to me.” 

“it’s nothing, satoru,” you say, clearly trying to make the words stronger than they are. “i'm just tired.” 

“you didn’t sleep?” 

“i did…” 

“and you’re tired?” he pokes, trying to catch you in your obvious lie. 

it doesn’t take words—a confession, some truth—for him to see the other kind of tired in your eyes. the kind that he’s only noticed on cloudy days when you were alone on campus, or when he ignores something he knows you want him to talk about. 

it’s a look he hates. the kind of eyes that shake him to his very core. 

not that he’ll ever admit that to you, or anyone else. he shouldn’t care if you’re sad, or something of the sort. it’s none of his business. 

and yet, right now, those thoughts don’t matter to him at all.

“it’s just been a long day,” you whisper, gesturing around you. 

“why?” 

you groan. “i need to finish dinner, okay? i just want—“ you breathe out. 

“what?” 

“a little space. i just…” 

“what?” his brows are furrowed. 

“go hang out with tsumiki,” you whisper, “or annoy megumi for a bit, or something. dinner will be ready in, like, forty-five minutes,” you’re almost pleading when you whisper, like an afterthought, “leave me alone for a while?”

the shake of his head is almost unconscious. “not until you talk to me.” 

“i don’t want to talk.” 

“i don’t care,” he says, in the same patronizing tone. 

“satoru, honestly, i’m trying to cook and you’re getting in the way—“ 

“just tell me what happened.” 

“nothing happened,” you say, trying to convince the two of you. “i just don’t feel very good, is all. it’s nothing.” 

“clearly, it’s not nothing.” 

“it’s nothing,” you repeat, harshly. 

“how can i help?” he wonders, watching as you try to tilt away from him. “do you want me to—“

“seriously,” you almost snap. “i want to be alone, for a bit, alright?” your voice is stronger than it’s been since you walked in the door. your eyes are hard as you look away from him. “i just want a couple minutes without someone clinging to me, or asking me for something. is that okay with you?” 

satoru watches your face, the way your eyes flicker shut, the brief quivering of your lips. 

and he could say something—crack a joke, ask you if you’re okay again, prod for an explanation—but he’s always been fond of running instead of doing the right thing. 

so he does. 

you asked for space, and he might as well give it to you. he can do at least that. 

he goes into the living room, ruffling megumi’s hair as he sits on the couch, but he doesn’t say anything. 

and he doesn’t see the glance between the two children, the wide eyes. but he can almost feel it when you lean against the counter, letting out a frustrated sigh. 

*

dinner is very quiet. tsumiki chats with megumi idly, smiling every time she remembers something about her day, or when megumi shows an ounce of interest in what she said. 

you ask her questions every once and a while, like you’re just remembering that you’re supposed to be listening to her. 

satoru doesn’t comment on this. he does the same, poking at both of the kids while they feast like animals. 

and then megumi is clearing the table, and tsumiki is helping put everything in the kitchen away, and satoru washes the dishes, noticing immediately when you disappear. 

he pats both of the kids on the back, saying something about leaving cleaning up in their capable hands, before he follows. 

his movements are out of his command. he hasn’t said anything—hoping to give you what you asked him to—but he’s only so strong. 

he finds you in his bedroom, sitting on his bed like you’re the one who messed up the sheets. 

satoru is so concerned he doesn’t even think about you being there. on his bed. he doesn’t even blink. 

but he shuts the door behind him, waiting. 

“hey,” you say to him, so soft it’s almost inaudible. “i’m sorry.” 

satoru leans against the doorjamb, a small smile on his face that you’re not looking at. it feels pointless. “dinner wasn’t too bad,” he shrugs, “i mean, could’ve used some salt, but i’m not complaining.” 

you don’t smile at his tease, don’t turn your head to shoot him a look. his icebreaker has done nothing but come back to hit him in the eye.

his smile drops to something more asinine, a bit broken as it lays upon his face. “what’s going on?” 

“i, um…” your lips purse, and you shake your head. “i’m sorry, satoru. for snapping at you. i’ve been—“ you sigh again, the words all broken and clipped like you’re not sure how they go together. it’s such a weird apology, sounds so wrong coming from you. “it’s been a rough day i shouldn’t have… i shouldn’t take it out on any of you. i didn’t mean to upset you,” you finally look at him, your eyes almost pleading.

satoru’s brows raise in surprise. “i’m not upset.” 

“you haven’t talked to me in two hours.”

“you asked me not to,” he shrugs, again, uselessly. “i was just following orders.” 

you watch him like he’s going to reveal a secret. “…really?” 

he feels the grin creep on his face. “had to happen sometime.” 

you shake your head, though your lips twitch—and satoru might be the only one who can sense that relief, the tiny pinprick of exhaustion leaking onto your skin. 

he walks over to the bed, sitting next to you. “tell me about it.” 

“you don’t want to hear it. it’s all stupid.” 

“hey,” he nudges you, fingertips dancing on your thigh. “you say a lot of stupid things and i always listen.” 

“i’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” 

his head rests on yours. “talk,” he demands, soft. 

and he can feel it as the emotions overflow—a secret he’s always kept to himself, that knowledge of everything that happens within your body, the walls that can’t keep him out—but he doesn’t move. just waits. 

it’s sort of excruciating, but then you’re always telling him that he’s a masochist. 

“i was just thinking about…” satoru hears you swallow, and he nods against your head like he understands even though he doesn’t. “about everything.” 

“wow. way to narrow it down.” 

you pinch his leg. 

he grabs your hand, tucking it under two of his as a pure method of defense. your skin is warm and a bit clammy. 

“i—“ you pause. breathe in and out very slowly. “nanami called me, yesterday.” 

satoru freezes. the two of you almost avoid talking about school—about jujutsu—on principle. like you’re trying to distance yourself from the years of wear and tear. banish all of the bad from a broken timeline. 

“he did?” he whispers, eventually. 

“he, um, wants to get lunch or something. sometime. talk about stuff.”

“that’s… nice.” 

you laugh. “it’s nice that the only other person left in my year is finally reaching out?” you say, dryly. “after leaving me, and pretty much everything else behind? and that he wants to talk?”

satoru muses, “nanami always knew all the best lunch spots.” 

“you would only care about that.” 

“hey, a free meal is no joke.” 

“says the man who bought four separate dinners last week. and ate them all.”

“i can't control the cravings,” satoru says, whining to you, “i’m a growing boy.” 

you laugh, and satoru takes pride in the way your body shakes against him. the little giggle he’d like to claim as his own. 

“so, did he say why? something happen?” 

“no… i’ll text him, every once and a while. just to check in, you know. but he usually doesn’t answer,” there’s an edge to your words, and you brush it off. “he probably just feels guilty. thinks i’m pining for him, or something.” 

satoru snorts. “because nanami has ever felt guilty about anything.” 

you sigh. “he does, actually,” you turn to meet his eyes. “why do you think he left?” 

satoru considers it, for just a second too long. he thinks about what he might feel if you left instead. and then he throws that thought as far away from the two of you as possible. “…i don’t know.” 

“he never really liked being a sorcerer, obviously. but after haibara… nanami isn’t like you and me. he can’t just—just shut out those feelings. ignore them,” you shake your head, pulling your hand from satoru’s.

“what do you mean?” he asks, before he can think about it. 

your lip twitches, and you shake your head at him. you know so much more than he does, and he’s not sure how to catch up. 

but you don’t give him the chance. “i know—i know he had to leave. i mean, i’ve thought about it too, how much easier everything would be if i…” 

there’s a moment where satoru feels frozen to his core. like he’ll never be able to hold onto tight enough to get you to stay. that he’ll lose another person just because he wasn’t strong enough. 

but you smile at him, sort of sad, and then you say, “i just don’t know why he had to leave me, too.” 

his face falls, seeing the glimmer of sliver in your eyes. 

satoru has seen you cry before. at movies, on difficult missions, when tsumiki asked to cuddle on the couch with you for the first time. he’s seen it before, the tears sliding down your face like a release he’ll never get to know. 

but it’s never made him feel like this. never made him feel like he might tear through the world—might return to that numb space, where nothing really matters—just so he doesn’t have to see it ever again. 

you wipe the tear away as it comes. 

he understands that feeling so completely. that inevitable question, where there’s no stopping the thought that maybe if you did something different, it might not have happened. maybe if he was enough, satoru thinks, he could’ve gotten him to stay.

but this isn’t about him. and he doesn’t want to tell you that he’s pretty sure the feeling will never go away.

satoru licks his lips, so angry that he never knows what to say. 

so angry that he's never been enough for this. 

“sorry,” you whisper, voice a bit rough with emotion. “i know it’s silly. it’s his life.” 

“it’s not,” he answers immediately. “it’s not silly.” 

you give him a half smile, finally leaning away. you look down at the floor, still considering something with your brows furrowed. 

“what?” satoru leans forward, to catch your eyes. 

you sigh. “it’s stupid to be sad about this when i have so much to be grateful for,” you tell him, quickly, the words harsher than before. “i'm always telling megumi to try and focus on the good and appreciate the people he has instead of worrying. but—here i am, feeling sorry for myself about something that shouldn’t even matter.” 

“megumi gets stuck in those thoughts for weeks,” satoru responds, just as quickly. “you can have a bad day.” 

you shake your head. “you never do.” 

satoru falters, pausing. and then he reaches out, turning your head towards him. and he throws on his smile—the one he knows will make you roll your eyes. “that’s because all of my days are bad,” he whispers. 

you smile back. it's an offering, of sorts. “true.” 

he frowns at you, still unsure how to relieve this pain. “you take good care of all of us,” he says, instead. 

“i know.” 

you lean your forehead against his, not protesting when satoru wraps his arms around you in response, pulling you tighter into him—trying to pretend like eventually he’ll let you go. 

he moves to rest his head on yours, nuzzling into your hair, breathing you in--hoping that your presence alone will tell him what to do. because you always know. 

what would you do if the situations were reversed? 

“let me take care of you, okay?” the words are so sudden that you try to pull back, but he doesn’t let you. “if you’re having a bad day, let me handle dinner. or take the kids to their clubs. anything to help you feel… lighter. and when you get lunch with nanami, you don’t have to worry about us. we’ll be okay.” 

“satoru…” 

“i know that i pushed this all on you,” he smiles, sheepishly, the only version of apology he knows. “but there’s no one who would’ve handled it better. and i… i don’t want you to regret any—“ he cuts off, unsure what he even means. 

“i’ll never regret it. i never have.” this time, you force him to let you meet his eyes. “you don’t need to worry about that.” 

“i wasn’t,” he answers, lying. 

you laugh. 

satoru’s eyes soften at your smile. “talk to me, next time, okay? i like it when you need me.” 

you push him away. 

and at the same time, there’s a knock on the door, and two tiny heads peeking in. 

“you guys okay?” tsumiki asks, her eyes blinking over the tangled legs and tear stains. 

megumi doesn’t even pause before saying, “gojo did you eat all of the mochi?” 

satoru grins. 

you groan and megumi probably throws something at him, but satoru isn’t really paying attention. 

just staring at you. for a different reason this time. 

*

next part | series masterlist.

[winonaparadise]

short story 💯

wrote a very quick story about a class i took in college. if you like my writing in my videos you may like this

Five years ago today I was clawing through state university. I had switched majors in an effort to come away with something more material from my college experience – but I was also trying to earn as many credits with as few courses to keep my schooling short and cheap.

I took a heavy weighted class in “media law.” A subject notoriously as intricate as it is absolutely fucking stupid. Anything you could learn, Disney will change tommorrow. The professor was an adjunct, splitting his time between the humble basement where boys with Pulp Fiction posters in their dorms fiddled with cameras and the actual law school where he was employed some miles down the road. I have never seen Pulp Fiction, but I’ve fiddled with enough cameras and enough of the boys who own them to have reviewed it twice. This is not a problem to me now.

Then I was stupid. Twenty. And basically friendless. I spent all my time trying to make something the same way the universe spent billions of years pouring hot soup into holes and hoping life would bubble out. I studied Japanese during quiet matches of PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds. I never got a win, and I never got an “A” in Japanese.

Weeks of school went by as I skimmed textbooks, got high, and thought about talking to literally anyone. Academic words danced around the edges of my brain like sand. I wrote essays on the same autopilot I write today. Feverish. Flowing. Fantasizing about what it would be like to go out with someone instead of texting a girl who now lived in Japan and making ramen noodles while listening for footsteps in a digital warzone.

I did all my work. I submitted it on something called “canvas” that the muscle memory in my fingers still types in search bars to this day. I never checked my grades. I knew they were bad.

Classes dragged me through the week on a bungee cord. I lived a block away from the bulk of them and found myself drifting in halls of buildings I’d never attended just to keep myself from meandering back home to draw a bad comic about a girl who lived in hell. 

I knew nobody. I went nowhere. I struggled to do classwork alone on outdoor benches dreaming of someone speaking to me. I needed to live in hell instead.

My media law professor was late the weekend after our first term essays were due. I don’t know what mode of transportation he took to get from one school to the other but today the Carolina sun had drenched him sweaty. We were chilly waiting for him to begin.

“Just about every single one of you failed.” He spat and chugged coffee through the entire period. “While I first was grading I thought I was the one who failed.”

He didn’t let the moment of respite last. “But I also did something I’ve never done before.” He paced like my father did when a restaurant was closed early. “I gave out my first perfect score. Which prevents me from grading on a curve.”

He huffed, he assigned a new reading, and he rushed out like he had lit dynamite. “Do better!” “What an asshole.” The girl who sat next to me in every class spoke as if she had been holding her breath. “Fuck him and fuck whoever got that hundred.”

“I know right!” I launched in on her anger, feeling it too. Back and forth we complained. We walked off campus together. She had long blonde hair and towered over me. I had felt ugly and mousey next to her, but today I felt like her equal. It felt good to bitch.

“I got a fucking 50. What about you?”

“It wasn’t pretty.” I recalled how I stayed up the night before the assignment was due. I milked bullshit into a puree. I got a rush of adrenaline from killing someone with a shotgun through a door in an abandoned house on the outskirts of Pochinki. I was probably close to being expelled. “This class is too fucking hard,” she smoked and shook her head by a bus stop on Tate Street. “I’m not about to lose my freetime over it.”

“Right.” I imagined her at parties. Black silhouettes against colored lights and deafening music. Like The Social Network. “We should be partners for the next assignment,” she got out her phone and passed it to me for my number. I typed it in. I waved her off on the bus. We did the assignment together. We texted each other about our studies. We joked about finding the guy who got the perfect score and beating him senseless. I thought about talking to her about my art or what we were making in other classes, but never did.

Towards the end of the semester I had to plan the next. A whirlpool churned in my stomach as I clicked on “grades” on my campus’ online portal. I had an A+ in a single course. 

Media Law.

My friend from class texted me that she was dreading the final. I texted her that if we failed I would kill Mr. Perfect Score. She texted “lol.”

She passed the course. I got my degree so I assume I did too. We stopped texting.

That professor emailed me asking me to take a course at the law school down the road. He said he would let me sit in and see if I wanted to change majors a third time. I never replied.

A law degree would just make Mr. Perfect Score a hundred times more punchable.

[enid-rhees]

Thinkin' bout coffee shop au Enid...

Imagine her being all sweet and flirty with the reader, purposely teasing her cleaving, swaying her hips, etc...😩

She makes reader this:

!!!

ohhh yes yes yes i absolutely love this !! i have a story in mind for this so tysm for sending this in 🩷 hope you enjoy !!

warnings: suggestive but nothing too much!

a/n: hope you all enjoy! i have a quite a bit of stories coming out this week so look out for all of them :))

at least a few days a week, you spent your days off from college to work on your exams and essays inside the cafe of your campus. it was never too crowded, and if it was, it was still pretty quiet.

you sat in the same seat every time, the one near the back of the cafe. and yes, while you could easily study at home in your dorm, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see the cute barista behind the counter.

Enid was her name. she knew how to make your favorite drink perfectly, and always she made sure whatever food you got from their small bakery was piping hot, just for you.

if you were being honest, you would hope one day this little thing you had with Enid would go further.

as you typed out an essay on your laptop, another iced coffee was placed on your table. you looked up, face heating up at the sight of Enid. “how’s your essay going?” she asked, sitting across from you.

you groaned, throwing your head back. “awful. i have to write eight pages for psychology! eight! if anything, they should be paying me to do this instead of me paying them.”

Enid giggled, watching you with her head leaning on her hand. her eyes were filled with admiration “that sucks, sweetheart. do you want a muffin? or a brownie? i’m sure you’re getting hungry from working.”

you nodded, “that sounds really nice, Enid. thank you.” she smiled sweetly at you and stood up to go back behind the counter. you turned the page of your psychology textbook, read a few paragraphs and then added what you read into your essay.

Enid came back, leaning down as she placed a hot brownie in front of you. you looked up to thank her again, but noticed Enid had unbuttoned the buttons of her work shirt, displaying her breasts right in front of you.

your mouth went dry and you were suddenly at a loss of words. you couldn’t take your eyes off of her.

“t-thank you, Enid.” you stuttered out. Enid smirked to herself, knowing that her plan had worked on you. “no problem, darling.” she hummed slowly, reveling in the way you became obviously nervous.

you drank your iced coffee in almost one sip, trying to cool off your burning body. Enid walked away, now swaying her hips back and forth sensually. you couldn’t tear your eyes away from her no matter how hard you tried.

with a deep breath, you took a bite of the brownie and continued to work on your essay, trying to ignore the feeling between your legs. you squeezed them together and sat up straight against the chair.

Enid was behind the counter, so you quietly ate the brownie and finished the 5th page of your essay. you quickly saved your work and closed your laptop, rubbing your eyes to relax them from staring at the screen for so long.

you took a look around the cafe, you were the only one inside at the moment, and have been for a while. it was just you and Enid.

Enid hummed quietly to the song playing over the speakers as she made a drink. you assumed it was for herself as there was no one else here besides you, and she had already given you two iced coffees.

she then walked out from behind the counter and sat across from you once more, sliding over a glass mug. you looked down at it, Enid had made a latte, but with latte art on top. she crafted two beautiful hearts into the liquid.

“oh, Enid. that’s incredible.” you told her. she smiled at you, “i wanted to try something different. i’ve never done that before.” she admitted.

“you did amazing, Enid.” you told her, and then took a sip of it. you moaned at the taste, “and it tastes even better than it looks. you are just… incredible.”

she giggled, “i’m glad you like it.”

“i love it.” you corrected her. you reached behind you into your bag that hung off the chair and pulled out your wallet. “please don’t.” Enid whined.

you pulled a $20 out of your wallet. “take it.” you insisted. Enid pouted, and took the money from your hands. she knew if she didn’t, you would keep insisting until she did. “thank you, but you didn’t have to.”

you scoffed. “do you know how insane i would have to be to not pay the cute barista who’s giving me endless drinks and food? what kind of person do you think i am?”

“cute barista?” Enid raised her eyebrow, smirking at you. you didn’t let your guard down, though. “yeah. that’s what you are.” you responded, taking another sip of the latte.

Enid bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from smiling widely. she sat up and moved to sit next to you. your heart started to race, and it almost seemed like Enid could immediately notice.

her hand slowly slid onto your thigh, squeezing the plush skin lightly. you pressed your thighs together, trying to get little friction. Enid leaned in close to you, “you have any more classes today?” she whispered in your ear.

you shook your head, far too nervous to form coherent words. Enid hummed quietly, “why don’t i close up early, and we can head to my place, hm?”

[lucimaaie]

girl friends ✧.* spiderwoman au

pairings - ellie williams x fem!reader

summary - ellie makes it up to you.

warnings - fluff, i was back n forth between playing spiderman and writing this so i blame mistakes on that, opposite of slow burn

playlist | spidey masterlist

“You’re welcome, no problem. Just hold onto that purse next time, alright?” Ellie huffed as she watched the elderly woman scurry off, relieved she still had her belongings.  

Ellie swung away to a rooftop no one could find her and pulled out her phone. Nothing from you. It was to be expected after practically standing you, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.  

Somehow Ellie had convinced herself to go to class. This thing with you combined with the anxiety of start a new semester had her heart jumping around in her ribcage. That was without adding the fact that the streets had been quite busy since that day with the bridge repair and news coverage of it.   

She was going to go straight home until she saw you standing in line at the campus cafe distracted with your phone. If she wanted to clear the air, now was the time to do so. So, her feet took her to you and unexpectedly into some guy with a scalding hot coffee. Maybe not scalding but the unexpectedly warmth soaking into Ellie’s clothes made it hard to determine the exact temperature. “Ah-” She looked down at her damp hoodie, now stained brown.   

“I am so sorry-” The man wasn’t given enough time to apologize before you seamed to appear behind him with napkins.   

“It’s fine.” Ellie’s eyes were on you. There was no hesitation as you pulled her aside and dabbed as much as you could from the fabric. It was no use, but you were trying. “It’s probably better if I take this off.” She said, digging the nail of her thumb into the skin of her index as she hoped you couldn’t feel her heartbeat right now.  

“Yeah, probably.” Your voice had a certain coldness to it. There was a crinkle in between your eyebrows as you crumpled the beige napkins. “Are you burned?” You stepped closer as she wrapped her hoodie over her arm.   

“No, no, thankfully, I’m not.” Her smile was sheepish. “Thank you for helping.”  

You nodded without another word. As much as you tried to muster a smile, that frown on your face was still present underneath. You were saved from having to pretend any further when your name was called. You swiped your coffee and took the opportunity to leave swiftly.   

Ellie followed. “Hey, can we talk?” She tried her best not to sound like a typical college douchebag. It was the guilt that wouldn’t leave her alone.   

“You want to?” You were quick in each step, weaving through friend groups and conversing professors.   

“O-Of course, I do. I know what I did was shitty. I do wanna talk about it.” Irritation started to compete with guilt as she worked hard to catch up to you. She grabbed your wrist as if it was a reflex. “Can you stop and look at me?”  

“So, you can give me excuses? Look, if you weren’t having a good time, you could’ve just told me.” You did stop with a peeved stance. You shifted on each feet as if talking to her was an inconvenience.   

Her irritation softened. She never wanted to be an inconvenience. She dropped your wrist and licked her lips, readying herself to grovel. “I..” It was now that she realized she hadn’t planned what she wanted to say. She couldn’t tell you the truth, that would be stupid, tell you after the first date and a few months of knowing you. Unless, she could. It would save her a relationship of skipping out on dates and lying to you about where she was every night. No, that was ridiculous. You wouldn't believe her.  

 “I was having a good time. I really was. It's just..” Ellie looked down as she tried to think of something to say. It would only be inferior to the truth. "Come with me." 

“What?”  

“Just- come with me. Please? I don't wanna talk around everyone in the hallway..” She watched as you contemplated.  The coffee in your hand had not been sipped once. Finally, you nodded with subdued agitation. She thought she saw a degree of hurt before you looked away.   

Her thoughts rushed as she guided you outside and to the back of the science building. How was she going to get you to believe her? She'd gone from fully into you to absent within hours. “I left cause of a family emergency, I swear. I did a shitty job at checking in with you, but I would've stayed if I could've." She breathed deeply. The heavy guilt of lying to you for the first time settling in her chest. It only went down from here.  

The tension in your shoulders softened. You wanted to believe it was a lie, an excuse to get out of standing you up half way through a date. That make the hurt feel more justified. The way Ellie stood as if she was bracing for lashing or screaming was more compelling than her words. “Ellie.” You pushed yourself off the wall opposite of hers, crossed arms dropping to your sides. You stopped right in front of us. "I wish you would've just told me." 

“I know.”  

“I mean a week-”  

Ellie couldn’t help but chuckle. “I-yeah, it sounds bad doesn’t it?" Her hand came to cover her face.  

"It is bad, you asshole." You grabbed her hand from her face. You didn't intertwine your fingers, instead holding onto to the tips of her fingers just barely. Testing the waters. "I really like you." 

Ellie knew what you meant. The relationship started by a group project a few months ago had grown to a budding romance neither of you felt like was new. You could be on two completely different schedules and you still found a way into the each other’s minds. It was scary hoping that your feelings always stayed strong enough to let this happen.  

"Can I ask for a second chance?" 

“With a coffee stain on your shirt?” 

“Well--What?” 

“It kinda bled through.” 

“Shit, I-” Ellie had become distracted with wiping the brown stain off her shirt, which was white by the way. It was virtually impossible to not embarrass herself any further. She let her hands drop to her sides. “This is going worse than I thought,” She mumbled.  

“I think it’s sweet. Makes me feel better that you’re struggling a bit.” You set your drink down and leaned against the wall next to Ellie. The amusement in your smile couldn’t be overshadowed by the awe in your eyes. Who were you kidding? She could ghost you a million more times and you’d come back just to be in her space again. Little did you know that would be your future.  “So, about that second chance.” Damn her for making it so easy. 

“You really can’t tell me where we’re going?” You took tentative steps with the help of Ellie. You could feel gusts of air brought on my hoards of people around you. Giggles told you, you were somewhere fun. Only you couldn’t see it. “I’m getting antsy, Williams.”

“Doesn’t feel so good, does it?” Ellie snickered, her hand soft on your shoulder. Her grip would only tighten when she needed to guide you away from a hoard of people. She was grateful for the opportunity to have even a sliver of contact with you. “We’re almost there, I promise.”

“Yeah, but we’re working on that credibility, aren’t we?”

“Okay, wow. I could just let you trip right now.”

“You’d never.”

“I might.”

You blinked as Ellie allowed you to open your eyes. A deep blue hue surrounded you. The pops of orange and yellows embedded in the artificial seabed caught your eye only second to the variety of species swimming around before you. You almost collided with the glass to get a closer look.

“You..like it?”

“That’s like asking me do I like to breathe. Aquariums are amazing.” You looked back at her. “Minus the fact that we take them from their homes.”

“Can’t forget that.” Ellie’s eyes were glued to the way the lighting made you look ethereal. “This count as a worthy do over?”

“Only if we get dumplings after.”

“There are better foods in the world than dumplings, babe." Ellie leaned her head against the glass of the exhibit. Her eyes were low with admiration for you. She raised a brow when you smiled shyly, making her realize her possible mistake. "I shouldn't have-"

"No, I like it. I'm okay with being called that." You looked down, embarrassed to had been reduced to a flustered mess at a certain four letter word. I like you. "Although, I might have to come up with a nickname for you myself."

"Oh God." Ellie rolled her eyes with feigned annoyance. You could see her trying not to grin.

"Something like baby is too basic. Maybe go classic: honey, sugar-"

Ellie cackled, only to grow sheepish at how loud she was. She scratched behind her ear. "You know I think I saw dolphins in the west wing." She savored the giggle that pulled from you as she dragged her along.

About an hour later, she was waving a polaroid through the air while you were focused on smoothing out the blanket beneath you. It wasn't the most fanciest picnic--You ou had the sub sandwiches and tacky gift shop merch to show for it-- but it was cute to watch you attempt. "That doesn't actually help it develop y'know."

"Shush, it'll work." Ellie looked at the array of pictures you two had taken. They weren't professional but she could your smiling face in everyone.

"I like this one." You said through a full mouth, pointing to a picture you'd forced Ellie to take with a parrot mascot. She shouldn't have found that adorable.

"I told you, I hate mascots." She swiping her thumb over the polaroid in her hands, eyeing your beaming smile as you pretended to carry a walrus. "They're creepy as hell." She set it down. "Maybe it's the mask."

"Not all masks are bad. That's just Scream, Halloween, Friday the 13th and every other scary movie."

"Real convincing." Ellie finally took a small bite of her sandwich.

"There's Spiderwoman, Ironman, Captain America." Ellie's heart jumped at the mention of her alter ego. Was it an alter ego really? Now wasn't the time to question that, she reminded herself. "Granted we don't know who she is under the mask," You took another bite of your sandwich, oblivious to the mini panic attack you gave her. "Does she scare you?"

Ellie took a nervous bite. "I..don't know." The question felt like it was prodding deep into her soul. She was Spiderwoman, could she be scared of herself? Was she? The mask had a tendency to take more than it gave. More energy. More people from her life. At the same time, she saved people. Became someone hopefully Joel would be proud of. Either way, it was a confusing hand.

"Well, I like her." You dusted your hands off and threw your garbage in the takeout bag. "I'm biased, but it's nice to have for Queens to have its own hero."

Her heart jumped as she thought of that night. "At least you're not like that JJ guy."

"Awe, he's hilarious."

The sun had started to go down when the conversation lulled to something more serious. You'd ended up laying down, staring at the sky. As many times as your fingers brushing against another, Ellie had decided to take the leap and intertwine your fingers together and pull you closer to her. You were halfway laid on her chest.

"I don't think we appreciate nature enough." You said out of nowhere. Your voice was soft, almost sleepy if Ellie was listening right.

“I mean, no assignments, or asshole professors, or nagging parents.”

“Really pushing the relaxation factor here, babe.” Ellie teased. Her chuckle was felt by you, along with the constant thumping of her heart. It was funny considering yours was doing the same thing only her ear wasn’t pressed to your chest. 

Maybe it was the quiet aura around you or the excitement in your chest that made you sit up and press your lips to hers. Ellie’s surprised hum was muffled. She didn’t fight it. Why would she? Her eyes fluttered closed as her hands came up to grip your waist. Her mind had nothing else to focus on but you. How you smelled, how sweet you were, how warm you were practically on top of her. You, you, you. She was almost disappointed she had to breathe. 

“A little low there, Williams.” You chuckled breathily. 

Ellie didn’t know how flushed her freckles cheeks were and it was adorable. Her eyes were dilated as you tucked her hair behind her ears, your faces still close. “You gonna say something?” You questioned, starting to get a bit nervous. 

“Does ‘shit’ count?” You shared a lengthy laugh. Despite your quip, Ellie’s hands were still on your waist as if you would get up and leave the second she let go. They were still there as you shared a second kiss. And another. And- You get the point. Lucky for her, you had no intention of going anywhere. 

thank you for reading!

[nickgerlich]

By The Tank

Today is Election Day. You would have to be a cave dweller not to know this. Even the rest of the world knows what’s going on here today, because whomever is elected has huge implications for international policy.

I’m not going to dive into the pros and cons of political parties and candidates. You can do that in your private time. I do, though, want to discuss one of the most contentious issues of this campaign, a product each of us (presumably) uses on a regular basis. And that is gasoline.

As of the end of October, Texas had the lowest gas prices in the nation, averaging $2.68 per gallon. Nationally, the average price is $3.09, with California, Hawaii, and Washington leading the nation with more than $4 a gallon. A couple of days ago, I was in Plainview Texas and refueled at Walmart, where it was $2.33. Deduct 10 cents for my Walmart+ discount, and I got gas for only $2.23. Not bad. That’s cheap traveling.

As is the norm, gas prices have dropped considerably since summer, because demand has decreased, and more expensive summer blends are no longer required. Yet some have used gas prices as a political hot potato, primarily because during COVID gas prices dipped to as low as $1.30. That’s a pretty bad comparison, and anyone who can think critically can see right through the argument. But that doesn’t stop some people.

A few more facts: The current price for a barrel of West Texas Intermediate is $71.62, helping push down the price of gas. And since oil is a global commodity, one whose price is determined by market forces as well as a certain Middle Eastern cartel, there’s nothing any President can do to affect the price of gas, aside from relaxing federal gas taxes or releasing massive amounts of oil from the Strategic Petroleum Reserve. That’s a card every President since the 70s has played, but it is not a wise one, because that reserve must be replenished.

Oh, and the US is the world’s largest producer of oil, with a 20% share, producing 19.4 million barrels a day last year. Cries of “Drill, baby, drill” are probably going to fall flat with the oil companies as long as the price per barrel is so cheap, because there is little incentive. Why risk prices going even lower?

But here is my question for you as you make your way to the polls (or perhaps you are one of the 78 million who voted early): Do you find yourself consuming more gas now that prices are cheaper?

I am betting the answer is no, unless you are one to say to your spouse or SO, “Hey honey, gas is cheap. Let’s go for a long drive.” No, you have just gone about your business, because it is hard to consume more of something that cannot be stored at home. Yeah, maybe a few 5-gallon gas cans, but that’s it.

Perishables are another item, unless you freeze or can food. Clothes and shoes can be stockpiled until you need them, like I did with a recent sale on trail runners. I know I will need them someday. Other items, like furniture, would be foolish to buy just because they’re cheaper, unless you need a new sofa or bed.

What are you doing, though, with the money you are saving on gas? Indulge in a PSL at Starbucks? Go out to eat? Depending on where you live, your savings per fill-up will likely range between $15 and $30, a nice little bonus to have in your wallet or bank account. It’s yours to do with as you please.

As for me, October spun out of control and I did very little driving, only 1100 miles. About half of that was driving back and forth to the Canyon to hike. I figure I saved about $40 compared to summer prices here, which is enough for three lunches at the Thai place across from campus. I’ll take it. She knows what I like.

All of which helps illustrate my point that many of the things we regularly consume have a pretty vertical demand curve. We’ll pay for it whatever the price, but if the price goes down, we’ll just keep doing what we have been doing. It’s kind of like being at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Sure, you can keep eating, but you’ll just get sick. The law of diminishing returns sets in, and you can’t—I mean shouldn’t—keep consuming. The same goes for gasoline.

Now if a barrel of oil shot up to $300 and the price of gas hit $10, then we would be looking for long-term solutions, like getting a hybrid, moving closer to work and school, etc. But until then, we just deal with it. Maybe we cut out the PSL when prices are high, but add them back when prices drop. It’s a fixed-sum game, because our savings and available credit are not infinite.

Just something to think about on this Election Day, with anything and everything having become planks in one or the other’s campaign platform. Vote wisely, and remember this: Regardless of who wins today, that person is our President, a person to whom we owe our unceasing allegiance.

That’s the American way. Full stop.

Dr “With Liberty And Justice For All” Gerlich

Audio Blog

[hirospussy]

mark jefferson was a pretentious piece-of-work who ogled students as a past-time. he was a creep, yet everyone sucked his ass because he was what? a little good looking?

everyone on campus knew him. you didn’t have to be in the arts to know who mark jefferson was. he was charming, witty; you knew that. everyone did.

but he was pure evil in a way that a select few knew.

“i don’t really have the time to appreciate my art these days,” he’s circling your body that’s tied into a fetal position, head cradling your shoulder. your head is spinning from what he’s drugged you with, “life moves too fast— don’t you think?”

you cant find the energy to respond.

jefferson sighs to himself, shoes tapping beside you as he watches your whole body and mind begin to struggle against the restraints.

“please, please. you’ll hurt yourself,” he’s tsk-ing at you, knees bent right by your face, “it will hurt less if you stop struggling.”

his pants are tight, and you don’t need to look to know that he’s hard just watching you squirm around on the floor. he thinks you’re mesmerising just as you are, right now.

“want to,” you mumble, “go home.” it comes out in bits and jefferson pats your cheeks thrice, each increasing with force. he’s thrilled with you; a fantastic subject.

“silly girl,”

he never indulges himself with his subjects, too sacred; he normally thinks. but there is nothing that will stop him from stretching out your tight little hole right now. nothing could stop it.

it’s mesmerising, the face you make as he’s spitting onto your hole, pushing into a spot that feels so, so tight.

“fuck, fuck you feel good. dont move. don’t move, yeah?” he’s a sadistic, grinning bastard. you move your eyes to meet his, and his smile almost feels welcoming. as if to say, good morning! or, how did you sleep?

“it hurts,” you pathetically mewl.

“i know, baby, i know,” his cock moves in and out of you so slowly. he makes you feel it all. every inch, every movement, “you’re a good cunt.”

you tighten at his words, as your head rolls back and forth against the floor, slowly. you’re trying to sleep and fight him, but it’s impossible to do both.

“don’t fight me. don’t ruin something so good.” he leans forward to rest his hands on either side of you, his pace picking up as he watches your legs twitch ever so slightly.

knowing he can do this do you, while you’re almost totally knocked out, has him pushing into you a little harder.

“cant do this..” you pant into the floor, “mr jefferson, please,” you whine again, and from behind you, he lets out a groan.

“fuck, baby, say that again.” your cheeks are squished in between one of his hands, forcing you to look at him. between that and your eyes closing every other second, it’s hard to make eye contact.

“mr jefferson, please,”

“please what? i would hope a college student can use full sentences, no?”

the wires in your brain seem to slow for a moment, “i don’t know..”

he makes an aww-ing sound at you, cheeks still squashed between his hands, “that’s genuinely precious. i’m going to fuck all those pretty little thoughts away, okay?”

you cant even fathom a response, pathetically nodding along to his question. but it’s not really a question, is it?

the slaps of skin echo around the room like music.

he moves a hand down to your clit, still fucking you, curious to see how your body will react. it’s perfect. your stomach twitches up, and your legs begin to spasm.

he’s not interested in your orgasm right now. maybe later, he thinks as an afterthought.

“you want this, don’t you?”

you nod.

“you’ll stay here, as my piece until i’m done with you. won’t you?”

you nod.

“good girl,” he slaps your cheek, “you’ll fit here nicely for a while.”

[sinfulspencer]

Teacher’s pet

Prompt: Professor Spencer Reid notices Reader is distracted during his lessons, but he's distracted as well by her. One day the tension snaps. 

Based on these requests: #1, #2, #3.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Rating: Smut (18+, minors dni)

Warnings: mentions of violence, rape, necrophilia, sexual sadism, sexual harassment, sexual abuse, blood and mutilation (related to serial killers, not the characters); description of smut with age gap (26yo!Reader, 39yo!Spencer), dom/sub undertones (Sub!Spencer, Dom!Reader), teasing, dirty talking, light degradation, semi-public humping, biting, breath play, spitting, cockwarming, cum play, breeding kink, oral sex (female and male receiving), fingering, edging, unprotected sex

Words: 14.1k

A.N: Let me know if I missed any tag. Also this is edited by a program so... let me know if there are any mistakes I need to edit (I will once I’m back at home!).

Let me know what you think of this here. Check my masterlist here. JOIN MY TAGLIST!

Don’t care ‘bout grades, just call me your lady If I pass this quiz, will you give me your babies?

When Spencer Reid stepped inside that class, you knew you were going to get him.

You were going to make him yours somewhere in that classroom or maybe in his office, forcing him on his knees and hearing him beg you to touch him, to make him come, to send him over the edge.

It wasn’t a simple attraction, it was much more.

Desire, lust, need.

Fantasizing about him was the fun part – along with the dream of his voice echoing in your ears.

Professor Reid was considered the hottest teacher in the whole Campus but you didn’t blame anybody who gave him the title.

Not only is Spencer Reid incredibly handsome and attractive, he’s also extremely smart, sweet and kind to every single person who asked him for help. He has a gentle word for everybody, he doesn’t shut a student out of his office, he tries to help you study for his pop-quiz, he checks up on your research or whatever you’re preparing for him.

He’s the best professor you could’ve ever asked for.

At first you thought he was just an assistant. He looked way too young to be a professor, but when he declared he was there to teach a class - you felt completely fucked, because how in the world were you supposed to pay attention to the lesson when your professor looked like that?

Those curls slightly pushed back.

Those hazel eyes with golden specks.

Those deliciously plump lips.

Those adorable dimples on his cheeks.

That stubble that made him look even hotter.

Evolutionary Behavioural Sciences is the most interesting class of the whole year because the teacher is the most gorgeous man you have ever seen in your 26 years of life - no wonder a lot of students are auditing this class just to admire him.

Or lust over him, just like you’re doing right now.

You’re chewing on your blue pen, keeping your eyes on his face the whole time.

Professor Reid is pacing back and forth in front of his desk, talking about one of the topics you’ve wanted to learn about ever since he explained the whole program in the first lesson.

“The main difference between Male Serial Killers and Female Serial Killers is that Males more frequently act as “hunters”. They talk and kill targeted strangers in different areas with a sexual motive, they also keep trophies from their crimes. - you do your best to focus on his voice and the content of his words, forcing yourself to look away from his face - Female Serial Killers tend to be “gatherers” because they kill people who are familiar to them, in order to gain some kind of profit from these crimes.”

You glance at the three girls sitting in the row right in front of you, noticing them completely stunned by Professor Reid’s presence not too far from them. They’re all giggling and whispering things you would’ve preferred not to hear about him - even though you dream about doing them to him as well. You know they choose those particular seats because they’re the closest to him - or where he usually stops when he paces back and forth.

You don’t blame them at all.

Sometimes it’s nice to just sit there and admire a gorgeous model walking back and forth in front of you, but today you’re there to learn something that will probably be in one of his next pop quizzes.

It wasn’t this week so you’re sure it’ll be in the next one.

“The next two lessons are focused on sex differences in crimes and motives of male and female serial killers, because this is fundamental for a profiler. - says Spencer, putting both his hands in his pockets - We’re going to start from the very beginning, focusing on a particular research I’ve done on active serial killers from 1856 and 2009.”

His voice is like melted honey.

You love his approach to the lessons: they’re not just classes where a teacher speaks until they’re out of breath, it’s more of a conversation between a professor and a bunch of different students always raising their hands and asking questions.

No matter how hot Professor Reid is, he puts everybody at ease. You even asked him a few questions before - sure, your heart was beating out of your chest right after but it was worth it.

It was nice.

And he even smiled at you.

“What’s the definition of a serial killer?”

Nobody talks, nobody breathes.

A rush of adrenaline runs through you as you raise your hand.

Professor Reid’s eyes are on you as soon as he spots you in the crowd of students, pointing at you as his lips twitch into a little smile.

“Go ahead, Miss Y/L/N.”

You clear your throat, feeling as if everybody is looking at you - they’re not, they’re all focused on the beautiful face of Professor Reid less than five feet from you.

He looks extremely gorgeous today, with his navy blue shirt and tight black trousers.

The only thing that is missing is his usual pair of glasses.

“Serial killing refers to the premeditated intentional killing of three or more victims with a cooling off period between killings of at least six or seven days.” you explain, making sure to remember the definition he gave a couple of days ago in the previous lesson

Professor Reid nods his head, brushing his right hand over his elbow.

He’s approving your answer and you feel proud of yourself.

“Very few authors in literature and psychology have attempted to understand and explain serial murderers by using evolutionary psychology. - adds Professor Reid, finally introducing the actual topic - Are you familiar with Daly and...”

You interrupt him again by raising your hand, remembering that you have read one of the articles Professor Reid sent the whole class during the weekend.

He moves his hand, allowing you to take control of the conversation again.

“Martin Daly and Margo Wilson suggested that criminal homicide may be an extreme byproduct of sex-specific self-interests that have evolved over the years to maximize fitness. - you say with a little smile, chewing on her pen again before blushing when you realise his eyes are on you - They examined different humans and other animals, finding conspecific violence in almost half of the species they’ve studied. A small percentage of human deaths are a result of interpersonal violence, just like in a small percentage of animals. And...”

“I feel like you could teach this lesson all by yourself to your classmates.”

You stop talking when you hear his words, all of the other students laughing at his joke. But you’re not sure this is a joke, it felt more like someone making fun of you. Maybe you’re just taking it in the wrong way, but still - you shouldn’t have monopolized the conversation. You should’ve allowed him to teach.

It’s his job, at the end of the day.

You’re just a student that happened to be interested in this topic.

“I’m sorry.”

Professor Reid looks up at you, shaking his head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Miss Y/L/N. I’m happy to hear your voice during class. And I’m glad you’re interested in this particular topic, I find it fascinating as well.”

You keep quiet for the rest of the lesson, not wanting to bother anybody.

With your head down low, taking notes of everything Professor Reid said, you kept thinking about how he looked at you when you spoke both the first and second time.

He had that cute little smile on his lips, his dimples poking out.

He seemed really happy to have someone interact with him but the way he called you out in front of everybody, made your stomach twist and turn on itself - you don’t know why you’re taking it so personal, but you are.

It’s fine, though, it’ll pass.

You’d still suck his dick if he asked you to.

“Like we said earlier, Female Serial Killers act like gatherers because they frequently kill those who are around them or familiar to them whereas Male Serial Killers act like hunters because they hunt the people they want to kill. - explains Professor Reid, changing the slide over his computer before looking back at the rest of the class - This difference may stem from sex-specific tendencies derived from labor divisions in an ancestral environment. Men used to prey and hunt animals, women used to gather grains and plants for food.”

It’s incredible how these differences might really come from this.

It actually makes sense, since almost 95% of species’ history depicts men hunting and killing for food, or for their own pleasure. The repeated physical, social and ecological elements of the ancestral environment have adapted now into something like this, like crimes - it’s truly incredible.

You look up at Professor Reid, his eyes on your face the whole time.

He furrows his eyebrows before you give him a reassuring smile, tapping your blue pen over your bottom lip.

“This might be the reason why women look at their close friends and families as a gatherer would, while men look for strangers and engage in a similar “hunt” like they used to do thousands of years ago. - explains Doctor Reid, turning around to change the slide over his computer again - Now we’re going to focus more specifically on the Male Serial Killers as Hunters.”

You turn the page of your notebook, crossing your legs. The skirt you’re wearing raises a little bit but the first person who notices it is Professor Reid - and it’s weird, because you can feel his burning stare over your thighs but you can’t move.

It’s like you want to give him a show.

And you actually want to do that, but not in front of anybody.

You push your skirt down, covering your thighs, and you notice him looking away.

His cheeks are flushed and he runs his fingers through his curls, pushing them back.

“Which one is the most commonly identified Male Serial Killer?”

The hedonistic serial killer, you mutter under your breath.

“Exactly, Miss Y/L/N. - you want the floor to swallow you right now - The Hedonist serial killer seeks and stalks complete strangers in order to obtain sexual gratification, power and thrill from his crimes. He has to stalk his own victims by waiting for them for days and for the right time to attack their victims, forcing them into submission.”

His previous words ring in your brain.

This is typical predatory behaviour, similar to what men used to do thousands of years ago when they were hunting for food. Now it all makes sense: men used to be persistent, they used to be patient and waited for their prey to be alone, to be vulnerable just like present serial killers, now towards women.

Male Serial Killers wait and wait until a woman is alone, away from a group. And they spy her, they stalk her and make sure she’s away from a familiar person - and then they attack her, they grab her, they hurt her for the pure pleasure of just doing it.

“Male Serial Killers consider their victim as their possession. They want the victim, usually women but sometimes other men, to submit to them. They take advantage of the victim and sexually exploit them, especially if the prey are women.”

You want to cringe because of his words, the continuous comparison between an animal as a prey and a woman as a prey makes your stomach turn - it’s sick to think so many Male Serial Killers associate women to objects, to animals, as if they don’t count anything.

Biting your bottom lip, you write down what Professor Reid says.

His eyes land on you for a split second just when you look up at him and you can feel  your cheeks heating up, a little smile spreading over your lips.

You raise your hand, waiting for Professor Reid to look at you again.

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N?”

Clearing your throat, you turn the page of your notebook. “You mentioned trophies before. Do Serial Killers keep trophies such as blood and body parts just like hunters do with animals?”

The three girls in front of you are snorting, making faces because of what you just said.

If blood and body parts are disgusting to them, maybe it’s better they leave this class - Doctor Spencer Reid is famous among the students for showing crime scenes pictures with gruesome background stories without hesitation.

At the end of the day, if his students want to do work as profilers, they need to be prepared for pretty much everything he has talked about since the beginning of the course.

“Yes, they do. Animal hunters keep antlers or the head of their prey, serial killers keep body parts such as the womb or the eyes, or even jars filled with their victims’ blood. - explains Professor Reid, nodding his head - It’s really common. Thank you for the question.”

No, thank you for the answer. - you think with a smile on your lips.

It feels nice to be able to speak with a professor without feeling judged.

“Another particular difference between Female and Male Serial Killers is that male perpetrated murder is usually marked with sexual activity. - he adds, changing the slide from the remote he keeps behind his back - Most Male Serial Killers engage in sadistic sexual behaviour such as binding, torture and sometimes even necrophilia. It’s not uncommon for a male serial killer to visit the decomposed corpse of their victims and engage in sexual activities with them because murder is linked to a history of prepetrator rape, because it’s the ultimate violation of a body.”

You cringe again at his words, crossing your arms to your chest.

It’s incredible how someone might be able to kill a woman and humiliate her further by abusing her body over and over again even after her death just because she’s dead. It’s disgusting, it’s dark and it’s an image you need to get out of your head right now.

You lick your bottom lip, pulling out your bottle of water from your leather bag.

Professor Reid sits on his desk, his hands gripping the edge of the table.

You can’t help but wonder how it’d be to lay there between his legs, touching his chest while kissing his neck and his throat. How you’d hear his pretty whimpers against your ear, how he’d touch you and beg you to touch him as well, how he’d lay you on that same table and spread your legs and…

You shake your head.

It’s not the right time or the right place to think about that.

Later, when you’ll be home all alone since your flat-mate is out of town for a few days.

How can you think about pleasuring him when he’s talking about people getting murdered?

“Although sexual predation is one of the reasons why Male Serial Killers stalk strangers, not every serial killer has sex or engage in sexual activities with their victims. - explains Professor Reid, the low sound of the bell echoing inside the classroom - I think that’s all the time we’ve had for today.”

You let out a soft sigh, the bell interrupting every thought lingering in your brain. Since this is your last lesson of the day, you have to go home and cook your lunch but you don’t want to be alone the whole afternoon - maybe you’ll stay in class or at the library to prepare for next week.

You are expecting Professor Reid’s pop quiz like a kid on Christmas’ Eve.

“Alright students, make sure to read the articles I’ve emailed you last night. We’ll discuss them next Monday, along with Female Serial Killers and familiar cases as examples. - exclaims Professor Reid, watching his students making their way out of the class - Have a wonderful weekend!”

Uncrossing your legs from underneath your desk, you put your notebook inside your leather bag and you gather all of your things before taking a sip of water. You stay on your chair for a few more moments, admiring your Professor pulling out his phone and texting something.

Is he messaging his girlfriend?

Does he have a girlfriend or is he single?

You haven’t seen a ring on his fingers even though he’s almost forty years old. You’re surprised he doesn’t have anybody yet - that you know of, actually - because he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

You wonder what he’d do if you tried to seduce him.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

You hum, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, Professor?”

“Are you planning on spending the weekend on your seat, ready for my class this Monday?”

The slight sarcastic tone makes you smile, the little joke shaking your heart. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea, now that I think about it. I’d have the best seat in the whole class.”

He gives you a smile, climbing the first two stairs to reach your row. “You should get out of Campus and enjoy a weekend with your friends, even though it’s going to rain before the end of the day.”

You frown, glancing at the window on the other side of the class. “Do you think so?”

“Yes. The sky was red this morning and before our class, I took a walk around the Campus. I could smell the petrichor. - says Professor Reid, waiting for you to grab your leather bag before walking in front of him - We’ll see tonight if I was right or not.”

You don’t doubt he’ll be right, he’s always right.

He follows you in silence, turning the lights of the classroom off before you turn around to look at him - not realising he’s really close to you, as you almost bump into him. Your hand is almost over his chest as you quickly pull it away, your cheeks heating up at the closeness.

This is dangerous.

But you like danger, especially if it involves him.

Taking a step back, you clear your throat.

“I really liked today’s lesson, can’t wait for the next part.”

Doctor Reid smiles, his dimples poking out again.

Knowing you’re the cause of this smile makes you feel like you’re on top of the world.

“I figured. I’m glad you liked it, I’m sure the next part will be even better since it’s all about Female Serial Killers. - he says, closing the door of the classroom - Something tells me you’re going to raise your hands many, many times.”

You blush, looking down for a split second.

“And, Miss Y/L/N… I’m sorry for calling you out during class, mine was just a joke.”

What is the talking about?

Oh.

“No, it’s fine! I understand that, I interrupted you. I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry. - you quickly say, shaking your head when you see his eyebrows furrowed in an upset expression - It’s okay, you did the right thing by reprimanding me.”

He slowly nods his head, biting his bottom lip.

He admires the way you’re playing with your hair, twisting it around your fingers before lightly pulling on it. He wished those fingers would be his, he wants to be the one tugging and pulling your hair - maybe in different conditions, such as fun, bedroom activities.

Weirdo, why is he thinking about this with a student?

It’s not like he’s totally immune to your beauty - he’s really not, but he should be.

He’s 39 years old, you’re barely 26.

“Great, because it wasn’t my intention to hurt you. - says Professor Reid, glancing at a student walking right behind you - If you have any questions about today’s lesson, do not hesitate to send me an e-mail. I will gladly answer.”

A bright smile spreads over your lips.

“Thank you so much, Professor. - you mumble, feeling your phone vibrating in your leather bag pressed against your side - Have a good weekend!”

You certainly will, considering his voice will be the soundtrack of your dreams.

Monday used to be your least favourite day of the week in High School because it was the beginning of a stressful week filled with exams, oral exams, pop quizzes, difficult conversations with your old classmates or fights with the teacher.

And within the teachers.

Now that you’ve grown up and gone to College, you actually love Mondays.

And it’s not because you are finally studying subjects you love, but because your morning will be blessed by the presence and the sweet voice of the beautiful Professor Reid - who’s probably already waiting for his students inside his classroom.

Ah, Professor Reid.

It was difficult to focus on the second article he sent to everybody through e-mails because your mind was filled with images of him in many different conditions, conditions that you were dying to see him in.

Your weekend passed in a blur, between Female Serial Killers and some fun time alone with Spencer Reid staining your brain, your thoughts, your fantasies.

No matter how much you dreamed about him, you were excited to see him.

You walk out the Cafeteria, taking a sip of your milk mixed with just an ounce of coffee.

Some of your colleagues are headed to the classroom but you stay outside for a few more minutes, knowing that your Professor is not really a fan of people who attend his lessons with their coffees or their drinks in hand - water is fine, though.

You lean against the wall next to the door, spotting Professor Reid walking inside the hallway with his eyes set on you. At first you’re not sure he’s looking at you, but when he gets closer and closer, you know he’s actually staring - more like, gawking at you and you don’t mind at all.

You’ve been waiting this weekend to finish for so long.

“Good morning Miss Y/L/N. - he says, walking past you - Finish your coffee and get inside the class, we have so much to do today.”

More excited than before, you drink all your milk before heading inside the classroom.

Did you really do what he just told you to? Since when do you take orders from others?

Blushing, you get to your seat only to find it taken by the three girls that were right in front of you a few days before. You know why they’re there – Professor Reid looked at you lots of times during his last lesson and that seemed to annoy the three girls, which is why they took your place.

Little do they know, Professor Reid is going to look at you no matter which seat you occupy.

He’d stare and gawk at you even if you decided to sit in the back of the class because you’re not in the mood to pay attention to his class. He loves watching you take notes, look around the room, smile at something he says during his lessons.

And he loves watching the way your skirt rises up over your thigh, exposing your soft skin he wants so desperately to nibble on – he will, one day. He doesn’t know when but it’ll happen and when it’ll happen, he’s going to let go.

His fantasies will come alive.

And he’ll make sure you’ll feel him for days.

Already annoyed by the three girls, you decide to take their place and sit in front of them.

“Good morning everyone. I hope you rested well this weekend and you’re all ready because we have so many things to discuss today.”

You smirk, tapping the bottom of your pen against your cheeks.

You certainly rested pretty well, considering how many times you whispered his name with your hand down between your legs and your eyes closed. You’re tempted to tell him, explaining every single detail of your dreams about him in his office – but that’d be dangerous, because you’d cross those boundaries that will make it hard for you to focus on anything different than his hands or his mouth.

It’s already difficult to look at him in the eyes and not fantasize about his fingers caressing you between your thighs, his lips leaving feverish kisses up and down your throat as he calls your name ever so softly, almost begging you for something.

Those images of Spencer are haunting your mind.

“Last weekend we focused our attention on the figure of the Male Serial Killers. Today we’re going to study the psychological profile of a Female Serial Killer.”

You open your notebook, scrabbling the date and the title of the lesson.

Then your eyes immediately settle on the man turning on the computer, his fingers wrapping around the little remote that actually resembles the remote of your favourite toy – weird coincidence?

What would he think of you owning a toy with a bluetooth controller? What would he think of you playing with it, turning the toy on and off just to tease yourself and imagining him doing that to you?

He’d love it.

“People tend to disbelieve that a woman could commit a serial murder, which is why there are not a lot of researches about Female Serial Killers. About one in six serial killers are women, while serial murders are less than 1% committed by Female Serial Killers. – says Doctor Reid, leaning against his desk right behind him – We talked about how Female Serial Killers tend to act like gatherers of victims, victims they probably knew very well and were close to before their actions.”

You write his words down, biting your bottom lip.

The gesture doesn’t go unnoticed because Professor Reid’s eyes are already on you.

Your eyebrows are furrowed, there’s a little crinkle between your eyebrows – a sign of concentration – and you’re pouting while you write. He finds your expression incredibly attractive even though he prefers to feel your eyes on his face rather than them being on the paper you have between your hands.

A strand of hair falls over your forehead, you quickly push it behind your ear.

Spencer Reid takes a deep breath, opening the PDF he created for this lesson.

He has to control himself or he won’t be able to finish this lesson without needing a break in the bathroom, relieving himself from the rapidly building frustration within his body.

Mondays are tough because you look way more gorgeous than the rest of the week, because you’re well rested, because you dress with that tight little skirt he wants to strip away with his teeth as he scratches your thighs and squeezes them in his hands.

“Female Serial Killers often target children or familiar others who are vulnerable or may be under their care. 72% of Female Serial Killers killed at least one person under their care and 44% killed their own children. – you frown at his words, finally looking up at him and finding him staring back at you – Della Sorenson, a Female Serial Killer who poisoned eight children throughout her life, said those children were annoying, they were bothering the woman, they were powerless and couldn’t attack her back so she had all the control over them. And she killed them just because she could.”

It’s sick.

You lick your bottom lip, tapping the pen right there.

He forces himself to take his eyes off you, the desire already booming through his body.

It’s too early to feel these emotions, it’s too early to head to the bathroom and end his own misery by touching himself because of you – but he’ll do it soon, because he knows he can’t survive today without it.

He has to.

“Female Serial Killers tend to stay in one place committing their crimes, another difference from Male Serial Killers who are determined to follow their victims even cities apart. – Doctor Reid clears his throat, beginning to pace back and forth in front of his desk with his eyes everywhere but on you – This particular characteristics of Female Serial Killers reminds us of the movement patterns of women in ancient times: they were forced to stay in one place to seek out food, to grow out plants and collect fruits. They couldn’t move away or they wouldn’t have been able to find food for their families.”

You cross your legs, leaning against your chair.

You can hear whispers coming from behind you and you’re tempted to respond to them, but you can’t. You don’t want to interrupt the lesson and you definitely do not want Professor Reid to hear what you say about him.

Maybe he wouldn’t care...

Maybe it’d be a way to push him to make the first move.

Or maybe it’d be a way to push him away for good.

And you definitely do not want that, you’re determined to have him.

“Why does he keep looking at her? Are they fucking?”

You want to laugh.

You wish you were fucking him.

You’d be much more satisfied than using your own hands or these stupid toys – you’re pretty sure he’d be much better than them, he’d make you come more times than anything else and, well, he’d be a way better view throughout the moment.

“Male Serial Killers tend to have a sexual motive to attack their victims, while Female Serial Killers tend to kill people to gain some kind of profit. whether it is money, power or simply the recognition for their actions. – explains Doctor Reid, your pen still tapping over your bottom lip – Women can also be violent and injurious to others, but female aggression gets more intense in situations where they need to defend themselves. An example is Female Serial Killers who kill their husbands or their partners for financial gain or inheritance, moving on to another partner.”

Tilting your head, you furrow your eyebrows.

“Female Serial Killers gain money by killing their partners and it reflects the female ancestral tendency to secure provisions for themselves and their offspring.”

You’re tempted to raise your hand so you do, waiting for him to give you the word.

You remember reading articles about Jeanne Weber when you were younger, how she was one of the Serial Killers who actually hurt somebody for sexual pleasure. If Male Serial Killers are more driven to engage in sexual activities with their victims because they act like hunters, why do females do that as well in some cases?

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N?”

“Jeanne Weber used to strangle young boys during compulsive orgasmic rushes. Gwendolyn Graham and Catherine Wood used sexual asphyxia to kill vulnerable patients because the murder gave them a rush of adrenaline. – you start to say, looking down at your own notes – What might be the motives for a woman to use murder in her sexual pleasure? Females are not classified as hunters but as gatherers. What's the connection?”

Doctor Reid goes silent for a few seconds, then a little smile appears over his lips.

He likes interacting like this with you.

“Many Female Sex Offenders had been sexually traumatized as children. They often have no sense of appropriate boundaries, poor relationship skills therefore specific emotions, fantasies, justifications or even thought processes might increase the likelihood of offending.”

You tilt your head again, biting your bottom lip. “So being sexually traumatised led this women to become sex offenders.”

He nods, crossing his arms to his chest. “Obviously not all of them have been sexually abused, but most of them unfortunately have. There's also a small percentage of Sadistic Female Serial Killers who killed people because it was their ultimate fantasy. An example I can give you is...”

You finish his sentence. “Rosemary West, of course.”

Spencer Reid tries his best not to look surprised by your words.

How did you know he was going to mention that woman?

You must have read a lot of this topic because you sound exactly like him.

And it’s a compliment, of course.

“For those who don’t know, Rosemary West and her husband Fred West subjected a young woman to hours and hours of sexual abuse after luring her in their car. She also helped men assaulting her daughter Anne Marie, she killed another woman while her husband was in prison and sexually abused her children’s babysitters. – explains Professor Reid, his eyes leaving yours for a moment – Most of these offenders come from dysfunctional families, have a history of sexual abuse perpetrated by people in their families or close friends, reported feelings of worthlessness as human beings and abused alcohol or drugs in early adolescence.”

You scratch your chin, writing everything down as your brain tries to gather all of this information.

No matter how interesting they are, they’re giving you a headache.

But they’re so fucking fascinating – from a psychology point of view, of course.

“Did I answer your question?”

You nod your head, giving him a little smile. “Yes, Professor. Thank you.”

There are a few seconds of silence, then he speaks up again. “Let’s take a ten minutes break.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, you were waiting for those adorable words.

You desperately need a break or you’ll go completely crazy.

Leaving your notebook and your bag behind, you grab your phone and quickly head out of the room – not noticing him following you.

You race down the stairs as quickly as you can, entering the bathroom.

How can his voice have this kind of effect on you? How can it make you wet?

You can feel the pleasure building rapidly in your body, blinding you to the point you don’t even hear the footsteps right behind you. You open the door of the bathroom and as you finally walk past the mirror, you see the shadow of someone following you.

When you turn around, Spencer Reid is right there.

He grabs your right hand and pushes you inside one of the many bathroom stalls, your body immediately crashing against his. You were about to make a sound when his hand covers your mouth, the desire in your body immediately increasing.

All the blood is rushing down in your lower abdomen.

“Don’t make a sound.”

Whining against the palm of his hand, you close your eyes and nod. You’re not even sure this is really happening, it can easily be the figment of your imagination – but when his hips push against you, his cock covered by his trousers pressed to your thighs, you know this is real.

This is actually happening.

How did he get so aroused because of you?

What have you done to drive him this crazy?

You don’t know but you’re not going to think about this now.

“We have to be quick, doll. – he whispers, his lips right over your ear – Do you think you can be quiet for me?”

Your voice can’t get out of your throat, it’s stuck there.

Nodding your head, you look up at him when he finally takes his hand off your mouth. You wished it rested over another part of you – maybe your neck – but there will be time for that, you know this is just the beginning of something that will explode soon.

“You’re really bad at hiding how turned on you are. – whispers the young Professor, smirking – I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

He’s not the only one.

You turn your body around, your face pressed against the cold surface of the wall. As much as you’d love to look at him while he touches you, you know it’ll prevent you from being quiet – and you don’t want to get caught in the bathroom downstairs with Spencer Reid.

You can’t or he’ll get kicked out of College.

Spencer Reid starts leaving kisses over your neck, your eyes shutting and your lips parting. The feeling of his cock pressed directly over your ass is enough for you to give him the friction he deserves – and that you ache so, so badly.

He wraps an arm around your neck, covering your mouth.

The position is fucking hot.

His chest is pressed to your back, your hips are pushing against his hips and you can feel his cock pushing over your thigh, then your ass and then your core.

Your panties are already wet, the desire driving you wild.

Spencer Reid wraps his free arm around your waist, tightly holding on your hips to keep them in place as he rubs his clothed cock against your throbbing core. He starts rolling his lips into yours, focusing more and more on your needs – he knows he’s already close, but he wants you to come first.

Always a gentleman.

“You’re driving me crazy, Y/N. – whispers Professor Reid, his free hand sliding between your legs to push your skirt upward – It’s impossible not to look at you and imagine you on your knees for me, putting that smart mouth to use whenever I want.”

You want to let out the filthiest moan ever but you can’t.

“I can say the same, Professor Reid. – you manage to speak, your voice nothing more than a pathetic whisper – I’m close.”

You thought you were going to be able to act all seductive and sensual, but you can’t.

You’re a pathetic mess and it’s all his fault.

His damned fault.

When his fingers push your panties aside, finally touching your clit, the rush of adrenaline pushes you over the edge as the first orgasm hits you hard. It was totally unexpected but you feel everything, as much as you can. You arch your back and you grip his elbow, closing your eyes and biting your lips in order not to cry in pleasure.

You wish you could, you bet he’d love that.

His fingers keep massaging and stroking your clit, collecting the wetness pooling between your legs before bringing it up to your lips. And you lick them clean, not minding the taste of your own arousal in your mouth – you love teasing people and something tells you, by Spencer quick movements against your ass, that he loves watching you taste yourself.

You wonder if he’d be interested in tasting your arousal himself.

One day.

A short whimper comes out of his mouth and you swear you heard Heaven calling you.

You turn your head and look at him, his hazel eyes burning into yours.

Before he could open his mouth to say something, you get down on your knees with no hesitation. You dreamed about sucking him off before a class, you dreamed about watching him from your knees as he loses himself because of you but you never thought it’d happen in a dirty bathroom like this one – well, maybe you did.

He doesn’t need to know.

“Finish in my mouth, please. I need it.”

You quickly unbuckle his trousers, palming him through them. Spencer closes his eyes and throws his head back, covering his own mouth with a hand before he lets out a moan – he’s dying to, and you’re dying to hear his pretty voice now but you can’t.

It’s a shame.

You can feel his cock, big and hard, right under your palm.

You push down his briefs just enough to let his cock spring free and you spit on your hand, before wrapping your fingers around his length.

There’s no time to waste here.

You have to be quick.

“Come for me, Professor. I know you want to, so do it. Please, come inside of my mouth.”

He runs his fingers through your hair, gripping it tightly. You start stroking his cock with your eyes on his face the whole time, feeling yourself getting wetter at the sight – you probably will need to touch yourself again before you leave this bathroom.

Spencer Reid looks incredible right now.

His cheeks are flushed, his golden eyes are staring into your soul, his lips are slightly parted and his chest is rising up and down ever so rapidly. You can feel his orgasm approach quickly when his whole body stiffens, a chorus of short but audible “hm, hm” leaving his lips.

You wrap your lips around the head of his cock and swirl your tongue around it, moaning softly when the first drops of come hit your tongue.

He imagines your tight walls adjusting to his size, your pretty little moans echoing in his bedroom, your beautiful naked body tightly pressed to his, your hands all over his chest and your mouth attached to his, moaning and crying out his name.

And then he reaches his orgasm, emptying himself inside of your mouth.

You swallow everything he gave you like the good girl you’re not and get up again, brushing the back of your hand over your mouth before a smirk decorates it.

“There you go, pretty boy.”

When you’re about to lean in and kiss his mouth just to tease him some more before he heads back to class, you can hear the sound of footsteps coming from outside. You both freeze, your hands landing over his chest as his right one covers your mouth.

You pray that those people get out of the bathroom soon.

You can’t be seen with him, but the danger makes everything fucking hotter.

It’s incredibly wrong: if somebody sees you together, Spencer Reid is done. Completely and utterly done because it’d be a shame for a professor to have some kind of sexual relationship with a student.

But.

It’s hot.

When the person on the other side of the bathroom leaves, Spencer Reid opens the door of the stall you’re both in and he looks around. He tucks himself back into his pants and turns around to look at you.

You smirk at him before winking, pushing your skirt down as you lick your bottom lip.

“Go. I need to fix myself, Professor.”

Spencer lingers for a split second with his eyes on yours, then he smiles and leaves the bathroom.

What the fuck just happened?

It’s been almost two weeks since your encounter with Professor Spencer Reid.

You thought you were going to see him on Thursday because his lesson was scheduled in the morning, but he sent everybody an email where he explained he got held back at his other job - his FBI job.

Even though you know it’s not an excuse, you can’t help but think it might be one as well.

When he left you cleaning yourself in that bathroom, he also left you with a bunch of questions lingering in your brain. You know that the way he looked at you right there and how he touched you, used you, meant more than he could say - but you couldn’t bring yourself to send him an email or something.

At first you thought about simply asking him if everything was okay and if you made him uncomfortable with what happened, but then you thought about how those emails might be monitored by God-knows-who and no.

It’s better if you wait to see him in class rather than text him.

Emails and messages are easily traceable.

Face-to-face conversations are not, that you know of.

Since no one could replace Spencer Reid for his lessons, you spent those empty hours at the library to study your notes and daydream about him some more.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he looked at you when he came.

He truly looked like a painting, with those golden eyes and curls.

It was difficult to pay attention to the rest of his lesson, knowing that he looked like someone sucked him off in the bathroom because it truly happened. The three girls behind you kept commenting about how good he looks, how they wanted to do so many things to him and you wanted to laugh because, well, you had the chance to touch him.

And he touched you as well, pushing you against the wall like an animal.

You felt so good in his arms, with his mouth leaving little open kisses all over your neck. You couldn’t believe what was happening at first but you weren’t complaining, at all. You dreamed about those soft pink lips all over your body, so when you actually felt them on your throat and behind your neck, it was like a fever dream.

Nobody knows what happened and you don’t plan on spilling the secret to anybody.

His incredible career and respectful reputation can’t be thrown out of the window because of a horny 26 years old woman who sucked him off - kind of - inside of a bathroom after sucking on his fingers that were between her legs.

You open your computer, placing it on your thighs as you type your own password.

It’s eleven in the morning, your lesson with Spencer Reid should start in fifteen minutes and he’s not here yet - it’s weird, usually he comes to the classroom way earlier than he should so you figure you have another free class.

Which means, more time to study and prepare for your exams.

They’re getting closer and closer, and you want to do great.

Especially in Spencer Reid’s subject.

“He’s here! I saw him! - you hear one of your colleagues exclaim - He’s back but he’s all scratched. His face is...”

Your colleague stops talking when you hear the familiar footsteps.

It feels as if all the air has been sucked out of the classroom, everyone is turning to the entrance to see if your colleague was telling the truth or lying to everybody - but he wasn’t.

When you finally look up, Spencer Reid is walking down the stairs with a black eye and a scratch covering half of his face.

How does one person manage to look this gorgeous even with a beaten up face?

But then you worried about what happened to him.

Being a profiler and working on the field, as he explained to the whole classroom during his first lesson, can be dangerous and unpredictable. You may elaborate a profile and follow it until the very end, but you can never predict what someone might do when you’re face to face with them - and based on his own words, you figured he might have a particular encounter with an unsub.

Or maybe he fell down the stairs of his own house.

If that was the case, he wouldn’t have taken two weeks off his job. Right?

“I apologize for my two weeks absence. - his voice is stern, almost annoyed - Let’s start ten minutes early, we have many things to do.”

You’ve never seen him like this.

He came here to teach many times after a particularly hard case, you remember those days pretty well because he’d have bruises all over his face or his neck. His voice has never been like this, his tone has never felt as if he was annoyed and he didn’t want to be there - you figure he’d preferred to stay at home and get some rest, but he couldn’t.

And now you’re worried.

You’re dying to raise your hand and ask him if it’s okay but you can’t.

You’re not his girlfriend, you’re not his mother, you’re his student. Nothing more than that, even though you might think the opposite. Just because you shared an orgasm it doesn’t mean you have to be there for him, cuddling like he’s a child.

But you want to.

Sighing softly, you open your notebook and look up at the man trying to make the projector work with his little white remote.

His face is still beautiful, the brownish-yellow bruise covering the soft skin right under his eyes. The colours suggest he got that bruise at least five or ten days ago, therefore the week before. His skin isn’t broken which means the blood has nowhere to go but to stay right there, pooling and forming clots that change the colour of his skin.

That’s an ecchymosis.

It’s basically a hematoma: clotted blood that formed a little lump under his skin.

You want to kiss it away and make it better.

Weird.

“Today we’re going to focus on a few examples of Female Serial Killers and their modus operandi.”

You bite your lip, the first picture of his presentation appearing on the big screen.

You don’t recognize the woman in front of you.

“This is Nancy Hazel, also known as the Giggling Grandma. - says Professor Reid, turning to look at the photograph before his eyes land on your face - Is there anyone who knows who she is?”

You don’t have an answer this time.

He waits for a few seconds for you to raise your hand but when you don’t, he starts talking again.

“She poisoned at least eight victims, the first five were her children.”

You cross your legs, tapping the bottom of your pen against your lip.

“Her first husband, Charley Braggs, found the kids lying on the floor. His wife told him that she didn’t mean to poison them, it was an accidental poisoning but he didn’t believe her. - explains the young professor, changing the slide to another picture of her - He left and never came back. Nancy married and dated other men, they all died of “stomach problems”. Nobody thought she’d be the person behind these deaths until her doctor ordered the autopsy of her last husband, who died suddenly.”

You scratch your chin, wrapping your lips around the bottom of the pen. You chew on it, keeping your eyes on his face the whole time.

You still hear his voice and his words, but now you’re focused on a particular detail.

This morning Doctor Spencer Reid decided to unbutton the first three buttons of his shirt. You can see the soft skin of his chest and you wonder how it would feel to nibble on it, to lick it and cover it with bite marks, with kisses.

Would he react to those kisses? Would he whimper like he did when you got on your knees? Would he grab you by the face and kiss you more?

“After that discovery, the doctor asked for the autopsies of all the people that came in contact with her and found that two of her infant children, four of her husbands, two of her sisters, her mother and one of her nephews have been killed by arsenic poisoning.”

How can he be so hot while talking about serial killers?

His voice is just so soothing, every trace of annoyance has completely disappeared.

“She was also called the Jolly Widow because of her cheerful disposition towards investigators and police officers. She never stopped smiling while she was being interrogated and the tapes of her interviews are creepy, to say the least. - says Spencer Reid, crossing his arms to his chest - She was arrested for murder by poison of her last husband, Samuel Doss.”

You shake your head, forcing yourself to listen to his words.

It’s difficult to focus on them instead of his demeanor, his thighs, his hands, his fingers.

The same fingers that were touching you between your legs, the same hands that were on your mouth or palming through your panties.

You need to calm down.

“She was the definition of a Black Widow, a woman who kills her husband or lover and still wants to find her everlasting love. - Professor Reid changes the slide again, turning around so that his back is towards you - She said she married these men because she loved them but she never poisoned anyone. She said she did all of this because, when she was seven years old, she hit her head and that caused her terrible headaches.”

You bite your bottom lip, playing with your pen.

“She wore out four teams before they gave up on her. She never lost her smile, she never admitted to anything until she said a lot of little things annoyed her about her last husband. - you furrow your eyebrows, listening closely to him - How she didn’t know who she was going to marry, how he used to run away with other women, how he didn’t allow her to listen to a radio or have a fan in the house. How he forced her to be the perfect Christian woman, therefore she wouldn’t need a fan or a television.”

It’s incredible how these little things, combined by a terrible childhood, might twist the psyche of a person and push them enough to do the unthinkable. It’s scary but so fascinating at the same time.

Fascinating from a psychological point of view.

“She put an inch of rat poison in Samuel’s coffee but apparently she overestimated the dose, causing him to retch so violently it saved his life. - you giggle, the way he spoke made the situation a little funny even though it wasn’t - Afterwards she poisoned him again and he died, because she said he treated her worse as she was nursing him.”

You lean back against your chair as you raise your hand.

Professor Reid looks at you, giving you a quick nod. “Go ahead, Miss Y/L/N.”

“What about the other victims?”

“Well, she poisoned her fourth husband because he was making her mad. She killed the third husband because he was a womanizer and used to run away with other women, but he was also a jailbird and a drunkard. - explains Professor Reid, a simple shrug before he changes to another slide - He tried to seduce her but she wasn’t having it because he was too drunk, but he kept insisting and she poisoned a bottle of whiskey.”

Wow, is all you can say.

You don’t blame her for wanting to teach him a lesson, but maybe murder wasn’t the best choice.

“She killed her children because she found them annoying. Her first husband, Braggs, said he was afraid of her. He never ate or drank anything she made him when she was in a foul mood, terrified that she might have slipped something in the meals.”

He did the right thing.

He could’ve been poisoned as well.

“Every time she admitted a crime, Nancy said the exact same thing: “My conscience is clear”.”

You can’t help but raise your hand again.

Professor Reid allows you to talk.

“Two weeks ago you said most Female Serial Killers have suffered from a painful past or have been sexually abused when they were younger and throughout their life. Is this the case as well? - you ask, furrowing your eyebrows - I’m not justifying her actions if this is the case, of course. I just find it interesting how these women that turned into serial killers have a similar past with each other.”

He lingers for a few seconds, then he nods.

“Nancy had a very strict father who didn’t allow her to wear makeup or clothes that could attract men because he feared she might be assaulted. - explains Professor Reid, looking up at you - He didn’t know she was assaulted many times even before that. She got married at such a young age because she wanted to get away from her father, who prohibited her to see her friends or enjoy Church social events.”

You shake your head, tapping your pen over the notebook. “Is this why you didn’t mention her past? Because it has nothing or little to do with her transformation?”

His nose twitches. “Kind of. She never used her sexual past as a justification of her actions, she always came back to the headaches that had nothing to do with sexual activities. But I forgot to mention she was obsessed with love, she used to read her Mother’s romance novels  and dreamed about finding the love of her life. It drove her crazy.”

Satisfied with your answer, you give him a smile and nod your head.

Interesting.

“When she got married, she lost the strict father but gained a very annoying mother in law that caused her to start smoking. Her marriage was down, mostly flat, and she seeked strangers’ attention because they made her feel attractive. So while her four children were with their father, she was with other men.”

You uncross your legs, pushing your skirt over your thighs.

“Have I answered your question?”

You nod your head, humming. “Yes, Professor. Thank you.”

A short silence falls inside the room.

Spencer Reid speaks up first.

“Nancy pleaded guilty on May 17th 1955 and was sentenced to life imprisonment. - adds Doctor Reid, turning off the projector - She died ten years later of leukemia in the Hospital Ward of the Oklahoma State Penitentiary.”

You close your notebook, placing it on the empty seat beside you. Pulling out your bottle of water, you take a sip and you watch Professor Reid glancing at his phone over his desk. When he turns around, he looks up at you for a split second before turning to the rest of the class.

“Let’s take a fifteen minutes break.”

Some of your colleagues headed out of the classroom to have a smoke, you decided to stay in and see if he comes over to talk to you or something.

You’re worried.

Even though his demeanour changed throughout the lesson, there’s still some visible tension.

You decide to take the matter into your own hands.

Leaving your bottle of water inside, you step down the stairs but immediately stop when another student follows him and starts to talk to him. You take a few steps back and go back to your seat, biting your bottom lip.

Maybe later.

The rest of the lesson goes pretty much smoothly.

Professor Reid decided to examine the case of Rosemary West and her husband Fred. He explained their story, how they found each other, how their relationship was filled with obstacles such as Rosemary’s father and how their modus operandi reminded him of another case he worked on a couple of years before.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him.

Luckily you read more than enough about this couple of serial killers, so you could allow yourself to look and admire something else rather than the presentation Professor Reid was projecting right behind his body.

Your eyes settled on his face the whole time as you chewed on your own pen, playing with it and thinking about what happened two weeks before in that bathroom. It felt weird to see him like that, in a completely different condition: he looked like an angel, a sinful angel who just wanted someone to end his misery.

And you did, dragging him to Hell with you.

When Spencer Reid announces that his lesson is over, you wait at least five minutes before standing up from your seat. All of your colleagues are walking away, probably headed to the Cafeteria or the little shop right in front of the entrance of this Campus to have lunch.

You’re hungry as well, but not for food.

Seeing Spencer Reid after two weeks, on a Monday morning, felt like a cold glass of water splashed all over you on a very hot summer day.

You needed it, you craved to see him.

Collecting your leather bag, you follow him outside the classroom. Stumbling through the rest of the students, you make your way out of the room and you walk right behind him inside the hallway before turning around.

No one is behind you and no one is looking at you.

You can follow him.

Spencer Reid doesn’t seem to notice you’re behind him, since you’re a few steps away from him but when he turns to the left - you almost bump into someone. You start muttering excuses as you try to back away, making sure to be able to follow your Professor but when you look up, you realise he’s right there.

He’s staring at you.

Embarrassed because you got caught, you give him a tight fake smile.

“Hi.”

Your voice makes his heart flutter, his hard stare softening.

He has missed you in the last two weeks.

He wondered if you had missed him as well - you have.

“Do you need anything?”

You nod your head, hearing footsteps behind you. “I was hoping you could suggest a few books on Female Serial Killers, I’ve enjoyed the last two lessons.”

When the person who made you alert passes by, disappearing in the hallway and finally leaving you completely alone, Professor Reid yanks you by the elbow and pushes you inside of his office. The door is locked behind his back as your hands immediately sneak up behind his neck, his mouth covering yours in a kiss that leaves you completely speechless.

You didn’t come to his office to make out with him, even though it’s actually a great activity.

You came here to talk to him and ask him if he’s okay, but you’re going to take everything he can give you - especially if it involves his tongue or his hands. Or both, at the same time.

Spencer backs away from the door and you follow his movements, his hands sliding over your body to reach your thighs covered by your black skirt. He squeezes them in the palm of his hands, slipping his fingers underneath the smooth fabric of your clothes, and he pushes it up so that your thighs are completely exposed.

You don’t care, as long as he keeps kissing you.

His right hand travels between your thighs, your panties already damp.

“Professor, I..”

He interrupts you by kissing you again, helping you to sit over the desk in the middle of his office. You’ve been there so many times before but never to make out with him like this, never with your legs spread open and his hand down in your panties.

His fingers are massaging you over the useless fabric covering you, your core throbbing with need as you whimper and you call out his name against his lips.

You suddenly forgot why you came here in the first place.

“Try to stay quiet for me. Can you do that?”

You look up at him, sitting on the edge of his desk. “It depends on what you want to do to me, Professor Reid. Are you going to put that pretty mouth of yours to use?”

He leans down, kissing his lips over and over again. “You looked beautiful on your knees for me, so now I’m returning the favour.”

Professor Reid on his knees for you?

This is a sight you will never forget - probably because it’ll happen many, many times.

Before you can actually metabolize what is about to happen, Spencer Reid hides his face between your legs. You can feel his teeth pulling your panties down and you’re not sure whether to laugh or cry because it’s just so… weird.

But it feels good.

You lift your skirt, placing a hand over his mop of curls. “You could’ve asked me to take them off, you know? I would’ve done it.”

Spencer Reid looks up at you, the sight making you shiver.

Who in the world would’ve thought you’d have him between your legs? Who would’ve thought you’d feel and watch him as he slides his panties down your thighs?

Your Professor puts his hands on you, helping you to spread your legs for him. Normally you’d feel self-conscious with a man staring at your glistening core, but now you’re at ease - he’s admiring how you got so wet because of him, how his kisses excited you to the point you’re actually dripping.

Spencer traces your clit with the tip of his index, making you hiss at the contact.

“All for me?”

Of fucking course, you fucking idiot, it’s always for you! - you want to answer him, hating these useless teasing. Why can’t he just go straight to put his tongue inside of you? Why does he need to tease you when you just need to come because of those luscious lips?

“It’s all for you, pretty boy. - you force yourself to say, knowing that insulting him wouldn’t have been the best thing to do right now - Now get to work, my pussy isn’t going to eat itself.”

He nibbles at the soft skin of your inner thigh, his tongue sliding over it. “Calm down, doll. We have all the time in the world.”

You whimper at the sensation, his tongue running over your thigh. “Bite me.”

And so he does, his teeth grazing over your skin before sinking down. You let out a soft sight, running your fingers through his curls before gripping them tightly and pulling his face up.

“Do you like marking me, huh? Fucking whore.”

Spencer Reid blushes at the pet-name you gave him, knowing it fits him. He’s not really a whore, he just loves your thighs more than anything right now – and he’d do anything to bite them again, to decorate them with little marks so that, when you’ll go home and strip from all of your clothes, you’ll remember he was there to mark you.

To show you he owns you.

You already now.

“Now get to work, you whore. Make me come on that pretty tongue of yours.”

Spencer immediately obeys, not wanting to drive you crazy any further.

He leaves slow kitten licks and soft kisses along your outer lips, his hands squeezing your thighs as you try not to make a single sound. You can’t get caught right now, with his face between your legs, and you need to come so you have to do everything in your power to stop moaning.

But Spencer doesn’t seem to care about this, because his eyes are on your face the whole time and his plan is to just drive you crazy with each move. He wants to taste you, he wants to touch you, he wants to see how your body reacts to his touches and his licks.

He wants to watch you lose control.

His lips wrap around your clit as he begins to suck on it harshly, a loud moan escaping your mouth before you could cover it. You weren’t ready for this, you didn’t even shave because you never thought this would’ve happened - but you should have thought about it, since two weeks ago he followed you to the bathroom and was ready to fuck you right there.

Adorable how the tables have turned now.

You spread your legs as far as you can, throwing your head back. You pull his curls when the pleasure gets too much, feeling yourself ready to jump off the edge but Spencer Reid stops everything and leans back.

His chin is drenched in your own arousal, his pupils are dilated and his cheeks are flushed in pure pleasure. He can’t wait to feel you come all over his tongue, admiring how your body will react to the intense pleasure taking control of you.

“Look at me, now, Y/N. Don’t look away.”

It’s easier said than done.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Spencer squeezes your thighs, nibbling the soft skin of your inner thigh. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in control.”

You chuckle at his words, running your fingers through his curls. “You look so pretty between my legs, Professor Reid.”

He decides he has had enough, he wants to make you come.

Spencer Reid picks up the pace, hunger visible through his hazel eyes as he begins to slip his tongue inside of you. He pushes his nose against his clit, humming softly as the vibrations hit your core.

You cover your mouth with your free hand, your eyes rolling in the back of your head as the pleasure builds up rapidly in your body. Your thighs are shaking, the orgasm ready to explode through every cell of your body is approaching quickly before vanishing when Spencer pulls away again.

You let out a frustrated sigh, immediately looking down.

“Spencer!”

He shakes his head and smirks at the sight, your eyes are bewildered and your heart is about to burst out of your chest. You want to punch him right in his beautiful little face but before you could raise a hand and do it, his mouth attaches to your clit once again.

Spencer Reid wraps his arms around your waist, pushing your body against him as he drinks all of you, as much as he can. His tongue swirls over your clit, his teeth graze over it just enough to tease you and you can feel the tip of his fingers teasing your entrance - before slipping deep inside of you.

And the orgasm finally hits you.

You’re shaking, you’re trembling, you’re dying to moan his name but you can’t.

You grip the edges of the desk with your left hand, pushing his head more between your legs with the right one as you ride out your orgasm.

Wave after wave, you whimper.

“Your mouth is not good just for your lessons. - you manage to choke out, slowly opening your legs again to allow him to pull away - Fuck, did I choke you? I’m so sorry.”

Spencer looks up at you, licking his index finger and his bottom lip with a smirk. You can see your own arousal drenching half of his face, his eyes hungry and filled with desire. He looks fucking sinful right now, you wish everybody could see him now - because it’s all your fault he’s like this.

“Getting crushed by your thighs would be an honour, Miss Y/L/N. - he says with a smile, brushing a tissue over his chin - Fix yourself, you look like someone who just had an orgasm.”

You shiver at his words, glancing at his bulge in his pants. “What about that?”

Spencer Reid shrugs, squeezing some disinfectant on the palm of his right hand. “It’ll go away if I stop thinking about you.”

Hopping down the desk, you kick your panties off your legs. You pick them up from the floor and you push them inside of his pocket, getting closer to his ear before licking a little stripe right under his earlobe.

If he thinks you’re done playing with him, after what he has just done, he’s wrong.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you, Professor? - you whisper in his ear, your hands roaming all over his chest - I can be a really good girl for you, you know.”

Spencer lowers his eyes, meeting yours.

“You are such a brat.”

You giggle, brushing his chin with the tip of your fingers. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it.”

“I do, that’s the problem. I like it a little too much. - he replies, his hands immediately landing over your ass to squeeze it - There’s something I don’t like, though.”

“What?”

“People getting distracted in my class.”

Guilty as charged, you think with a smirk over your lips.

You might have gotten a little bit carried away in your thoughts by the end of the lesson but it’s not like you didn’t understand what he said. You simply focused on something more interesting: his hands.

And now you’ve had those big strong hands over your thighs, prodding them open. They felt exactly like you dreamed about.

“I was paying attention. - you defend yourself, rolling your eyes as you begin to unbutton his shirt without him stopping you - Not to your lesson, though.”

Spencer licks his bottom lip, still tasting you over his tongue. “What were you thinking about?”

You shrug, opening his shirt and leaning over to kiss his chest. There are other bruises all over your skin but you try your best not to cringe at the sight. Even though he was hurt, he still looks incredibly hot - a few bruises are not going to stop you from sitting on that bulge.

“Sit down and I’ll tell you everything, Professor.”

He obeys, sitting on his chair and widening his eyes when he realises you want to sit down over there. But that’s not your only thought, because you’ve had enough of all this teasing - he’s going to fuck you.

Now, in his office. During lunch time.

All of the students are out having lunch, you’re having another kind of meal.

“Do you know why I have three girls always sitting right in front or behind me?”

You straddle him, your knees on each side of his body.

The young Professor shakes his head, biting his bottom lip as he feels you sit over his bulge. The friction is just perfect, giving him the slight pleasure he was seeking from palming himself through his briefs the night before while thinking of  you.

It felt incredibly right to do so.

But this feels way better.

“I noticed them but no, I don’t know why. - he mumbles, blinking when you grip his chin between your fingers - No visible marks, please. I’ve had enough.”

You chuckle at his little joke, nodding. “I don’t. As I was saying… they're always around me because they started to notice you looking at me. Why, Professor Reid? Do you see something that you like?”

He runs his hands all over your thighs, travelling back up to your breasts. “You.”

“That’s so sweet, Professor. - you coo, leaning over to kiss his mouth briefly - I figured you liked me when I noticed you staring at my thighs. Do you like when I wear skirts? Have you dreamed about pushing them up and exposing my thighs for your own pleasure?”

If there’s something Spencer Reid loves more than anything in a person, is their thighs. He just finds them so endearing, so soft, the only place he can leave marks without feeling too guilty or too scared. He has covered both your thighs in his handprints, with little kisses and bruises that will fade away in a couple of days.

“Fuck, Y/N...”

You dip down again, kissing his mouth. “I knew you were a whore but fuck, Spencer.”

He grips your thighs, his eyes filled with desire as he looks at you. “Just ride my cock, please.”

“Such dirty words coming out of such a pretty mouth. - you exclaim, tapping your index finger over his bottom lip - Weren’t you the one who asked me to keep quiet?”

Spencer Reid doesn’t have the strength to reply to  you, too lost in the sensation of your hands palming him through his pants. He closes your eyes and lets his head fall back, moaning softly when you pull out his cock - hard and ready for you to own.

Licking your bottom lip, you spit on your right hand before wrapping your wet fingers around it. Spencer widens his eyes at the sight, your spit sliding up and down his cock as the pleasure spikes inside of him.

You’re dangerous.

“Jesus, Y/N, spit in my mouth.”

You’re not sure if he’s serious.

You weren’t expecting him to say something like that, but you felt his cock twitching when you spat over your hand - so maybe, he’s into this kind of stuff. And you are, as well.

“Open your mouth for me, then. - you whisper, stroking his cock with your wet fingers - Who would’ve thought my favourite Professor would ask me to spit in his mouth?”

When Spencer obeys to your order, you lean over and spit right into his mouth. At the same time, you start to sit on his cock - inch by inch, allowing it to stretch you open so deliciously you don’t even know if you’re breathing.

Spencer Reid swallows everything you gave him, looking at you as if he just arrived in Heaven. He has this relaxed expression over his face, but his body is saying a whole different thigh: his fingers are digging into the soft skin of your thighs, his lips are slightly parted, his chest is rising up and down rapidly.

He’s out of his mind with pleasure.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m too fucking close for this.”

You barely started to tease him!

He probably didn’t even realize that you’re sitting on his cock so you clench your walls around him, the sound that leaves his mouth sends shivers down your spine. His right hand travels back up to your ass and slaps it harshly, his left hand gripping on you for dear life.

“You feel so fucking good around me, doll. – the young Professor whispers, his eyes following your every move – I can’t believe I’m actually fucking you.”

You wrap both your arms around his neck. “You? Fucking me? Pretty boy, I’m the one who’s fucking you.”

Physically.

Mentally.

Metaphorically.

In every single way.

You lift your shirt just enough for Spencer to dive immediately between your breasts, gripping them and squeezing them in his palms. You’re not surprised he went for them as soon as he saw them, you find it hot.

Well, you find everything he does and says hot.

“I’m on the pill and clean, by the way.”

“I’m clean as well, by the way. - he imitates you, twisting your nipples between his fingers as you bite your bottom lip - Fuck, Y/N, you look incredible.”

You know it.

You dreamed about this for so long.

Each minuscule motion of your hips makes his cock slide even deeper inside of you, your walls clenching hard around it as you can feel your orgasm already building up. You’re not sure if this is happening for real, it feels like a dream - the best dream you’ve ever had.

“Who’s the whore now?”

You look down at Spencer, grasping his chin. “Still you, Professor.”

Spencer Reid chuckles, the melodious sound echoing through the room as you start to bounce up and down his shaft. You can feel it slide in and out at a rapid pace, his fingers digging in the soft skin of your breasts as his mouth immediately covers yours.

The kiss is messy, your moves are making it difficult for you to stay still for a moment.

You need to come, you need him to come.

You can’t stop now or you’ll be fucked, literally.

“Shit, Y/N, you feel so fucking good. - he whimpers, hiding his face in the crook of your neck - I’m close, too fucking close.”

You could come just from the way his voice sounds, from the way his body is reacting to you. The delicious pain mixed with intense pleasure sends shivers all through your body, your heart beating fast in your chest as you keep on bouncing up and down.

Up and down, up and down.

Your muscles are starting to hurt but you can’t stop, the pleasure is right there.

“Good girl, just like that. Ride my cock, that’s it. - your Professor manages to say, slapping your ass before you let out a soft giggle - I wish we could do this forever.”

“We will. - you whisper, leaning down once again as you kiss his mouth with passion - This won’t be our last time together, believe me.”

Spencer Reid wraps his arms around your waist, keeping you as close as he can before bucking up his hips and meeting your movements. The way you’re bouncing up and down his cock at a steady rhythm is enough for him to trip over the edge.

“I’m coming, Y/N, where can I ...”

“Finish in me, Professor. Please, come inside of me. - you whisper in his ear, biting the soft skin of his earlobe - Give your babies, please. I need it so bad, I need your come.”

And once again, he obeys.  

Spilling his seed inside of you, Spencer Reid marks you intimately. No man has ever done something like this to you and you feel blessed that you’ve had the chance to ask him - no, to beg him - to do it first.

The sensation of his come filling you so deliciously and the sound of his whimpers are enough to make you come as well, your walls clenching even harder around his cock.

You keep bouncing up and down, riding him throughout your orgas, as you collapse against his chest. Your thighs are quivering, your heart is throbbing and you feel it in your throat, you can’t move and… Spencer’s come is already dripping down your thighs, probably staining his own trousers.

He doesn't seem to care, though. And neither do you. As you lay on his chest for what seems like hours, you know you have to get out of there.

You don’t know for how long you’ve been in his office, playing with him to the point he doesn’t even know where his body begins and yours ends. You wished you could stay right there forever, until you both forget your own name, until the pleasure is too overwhelming to handle and you need a break.

After all, you just had two orgasms.

Spencer Reid puts his right hand behind your back, stroking it gently as he leans his forehead over yours in silence. He wants to speak up and say something because what just happened is not exactly ideal - he’s still your Professor, but not for long.

Just four more months, then he’ll be your ex-Professor.

A knock on the door sends both of you into a state of agitation.

You throw yourself off his body, pushing your skirt down as he rapidly button his shirt. You look at him with wide eyes as you try to fix your hair as best as you can - you don’t even think about the possible smeared makeup.

“Professor Reid? I’m Jackson, I need to talk to you about my thesis.”

You sit on the chair in front of Spencer’s desk, kicking your bag on the floor.

You can feel his come slipping out of you, dampening your panties and staining the chair you’re sitting on. You can’t do anything besides squeeze your thighs together and hope for the best, but you should’ve been more careful.

Sex wears you out every single time.

Spencer clears his throat, standing up and opening the door. “Could you come by in ten minutes? I’m finishing a meeting with another student.”

“Of course! Thank you so much!”

You both wait for a few seconds until the footsteps are completely gone.

Spencer Reid turns around and walks over to your chair as you stand up, his mouth immediately on yours. There’s no hesitation behind this kiss, there’s no passion - just affection or admiration, or similar emotions.

You don’t know if today meant something to him, but it did to you.

Slowly pulling away from his mouth, you caress his face with your fingertips. “I’ll keep my mouth closed.”

“No, I like it wide open.”

Surprised by his joke, you roll your eyes. “Jesus, Professor, you’re such a dirty boy.”

Giggling, he gives you another kiss on the mouth before sighing. “I understand what you meant, I appreciate it.”

When he loses his grip on you, you bend over to pick up your bag and you walk over to the door. You know you should say something, you know you should tell him that you’re not just attracted to him but you don’t know how. You don’t know where to start because so many thoughts are running through your mind now and…

“Hey, Y/N.”

You hum, turning around with a hand over the door knob. “Just so you know, you are more than just a one night stand. - says your Professor, biting his bottom lip - Even though it wasn’t night. It’s still morning. Almost afternoon.”

You blush at his words, not sure what to say next.  You appreciate it.

“I can say the same for you, Professor. - you whisper, walking back in front of him - I’ll see you on Thursday, then.”

Spencer Reid follows you to the door and opens it for you, keeping a hand over your ass before slapping it lightly. You glance at him before looking over in the hallway, noticing it’s completely empty.  

You get closer to him again. “Spank my ass once again and I’ll make you fuck me in that closet.”

He can’t help but laugh at your words, shaking your head and watching you walk away. Your thighs are still wet and he knows you’re probably squeezing your muscles enough in order to make a mess - that’ll be a very nice thought to fall asleep to.

When the young Professor sits back on his chair, he puts his hand in his pocket to grab his phone only to find your panties.

You put them there but he forgot.

And now he has them. They’re baby blue.

Smirking, he puts them back in his pocket and he closes his eyes.

You’re really a Teacher’s Pet.

His.

 Permanent taglist: @slutformgg, @getyoutmoon, @allexthakatt, @calm-and-doctor, @reidswhoree, @nazifa94​, @srhxpci, @eevee0722, @reichelhache, @aperrywilliams, @escapingrealities, @beepbooptoop, @anime-for-live @alfonsais @lil-stark

Apparently some of the tags don’t work. Ugh.

[zodiakuroo]

Love Thy Brother

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Content: 18+ dubcon/noncon, dabi’s canononical dick piercings  manhandling, rough sex, corruption, degradation, humiliation, manipulation, blackmail, spit, stepcest, loss of virginity, dacryphilia, mentioned breeding, blasphemy and sacrilege : 3

Word count: 4.1k

Notes: secured my spot in hell with this one for sure anyways touya-nii go brrrrr

part 2 here!

But he that hates his brother is in darkness, and walks in darkness, and knows not whither he goes, because that darkness hath blinded his eyes. – 1 John 2:11

Gaining 4 new siblings as a young adult is not something anyone expects, you think, but you’re grateful to have been accepted into Enji Todoroki’s family nonetheless.

Fuyumi was the big sister you always wanted, kind and nurturing, always happy to let you borrow her clothes and give you advice. You and Natsuo the closest in age.  He was warm and friendly and while he teased you a lot it was never mean spirited, just the kind that was typical between siblings. Shoto was quiet in nature and though it took him more time than the rest to warm up to you, eventually you two became friends as well.

And there was Touya…..

Well, Dabi as he prefers to be called.

When you first met him, you were terrified, the shock of seeing him made you hide behind your mother instinctively.  The Todoroki clan looked every bit the perfect suburban family except for Dabi. He had his hair dyed jet black, with seemingly more tattoos than clean skin. He had several cartilage piercings in his ears as well as three small studs in his nostril and a barbell through his eyebrow.  He scoffed at your scared reaction, sticking out his tongue to show you the silver ball on its surface and sending a wink your way.

Admittedly, felt guilty for judging Dabi based on his appearance, but you would soon come to find that sometimes it’s better to trust your judgement.

At first, Dabi ignored you, acted as if you didn’t exist. And the times when he was forced to acknowledge your presence in his family he acted as though you were nothing more than a nuisance. You thought that you might have offended him somehow but Fuyumi assured you that Dabi was just like that and that you shouldn’t take it personally. “He just needs to get to know you.” She said.

She was wrong though. Dabi couldn’t stand you.

Everything about you infuriates him. Prancing around in those frumpy sweaters and modest skirts like anyone would bother to lewd you anyways. Lest they attempt, you wear that gold cross necklace everywhere you like a big old “PROPERTY OF JESUS” tag. Your insistence to say a prayer every time the family dog so much as farts. The way his entire family seems to be enamored by your church girl act. Perhaps what he hates most is the way you look at him, poor delinquent Dabi, like you’re so much better than him. Sanctimonious bitch.

Then he noticed how you were with Natsuo. How you would pout and whine when he teased you and sometimes, to everyone’s shock and amusement, banter back and forth with him. Let’s be clear here, he didn’t care about you. He cared about attention. You were giving too much of your attention to his younger brother and that just wouldn’t do.

Pretty soon, Touya was in on the teasing. He started out by making fun of you for being so conservative. Low-hanging fruit. You’ve heard it all before so it didn’t wrench much of a reaction for you but that just made him more determined. Sometimes it got downright mean, earning him a scolding from Fuyumi. Not that he would listen anyways

Then it got physical. It started innocently enough, Dabi would tug on your hair, snatch food out of your hands, kick you underneath the dinner table. Albeit childish, it was incredibly annoying. You would shriek and yell for him to cut it out and after finally getting the desired reaction from you, he became hungry for more.

So he started taking more risks. When you were in the kitchen alone Dabi would brush his hand under your skirt making you squeal. That progressed to him flicking up your skirt to catch a glimpse of your panties which progressed to him spanking you so hard, you’d think of him every time you sat down for the rest of the day.

On the days when he was in a good mood (read: stoned out of his mind), he would pull you into his lap and hold you there, blowing smoke in your face that made you cough so that he could laugh. Sometimes he would let his hands wander, over your chest and between your thighs while you squirm in his hold. He’d say “Anyone ever touch you like this? I hope not, I’m sure it would piss off Jesus”

As if the touching wasn’t invasive enough, Dabi felt he was entitled to your room and personal artifacts. Often you’d come back from campus or church to find the contents of your underwear drawer spilled on the floor. You would notice a pair or two missing when you packed them back.

One time he vandalised your bible with drawings of penises on every single page.

“D’ya like my artwork princess?” he said when you confronted him. In a fit of rage, threw the book at his head. You missed (unfortunately) making him like laugh. “Surely there’s something condemning violence in that book of yours.”

You tried locking him out of your room but all that did was make him angrier. He threated to break your door clean off its hinges if you did it again.

Which brings you to your current predicament.

It had been a long day. You woke up late landing you in trouble with your manager. Your coworker fell ill and you had to cover a double shift, with no shortage of asshole customers on this particular day it seems. On top of all that, you just got stood up for date. You come home to a quiet house and you’re so grateful for this small blessing on a day like this. After a long, scalding hot shower, you lie on your bed wrapped in a fluffy, white towel, contemplating your next move.

You were home alone and with a family this big that hardly ever happens. You do what any person would do after having the day you had.

You smile to yourself, undoing the knot on your towel and falling back onto your pillows, hands already caressing your breasts.

You’re a Christian not a robot. Of course you masturbate. Sure you feel ashamed. You can hear your mother’s voice chide about how sinful it is but that all melts away when your little fingers slide between your wet folds. Shame can wait.

Being the menace in your life that he is, the eldest Todoroki chose that exact moment to barge into your room unannounced.

You scramble for your covers trying your best to preserve some modesty but it’s too late, you’ve been caught. You shriek in terror.

“Oh my god!” Dabi practically cackles.

“Dabi! It’s not what it looks like I swear.”

“Oh really?” He stalks over to your bed with the predatory grin on his face. “Because to me it looks like my innocent, holier than though baby sister is a nasty, little, closet pervert.” He’s now straddling you over your covers, you want to fight him off but that would mean letting go over your duvet and you know once you do that, it’s over. Dabi has the upper hand though. Soon he’s got both of your wrists in one of his hands, pinned above your head. His other hand, almost immediately, is pulling the down the covers, revealing your naked torso to him. “Huh.’ He muses as he palms one of your breasts. “Seems like it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“Dabi! Get off me!” You squirm under him but he’s too heavy so it’s no use.

“Nice tits Sis.” Dabi ignores your protests. “I don’t get why you keep them hidden.”

“I’m not your sister you creep!” you say with as much venom as you can muster.

“Aw princess,” he pouts and moves his hand up to cup your jaw, squeezing your cheeks harshly “it hurts your Nii-san’s feelings when you talk to him like that. I wonder what our parents would think. Should I tell them how filthy their sweet, little daughter really is?”

He revels in the fear in your eyes. You shake your head frantically. “No Dabi please! Please don’t tell them.” You whimper, words garbled.

“Don’t tell them what little sister? What were you doing?” He smirks. His hand goes back to your breast, this time to tweak your nipple.

The sadistic freak. Was he really going to make you say it? He answers your silent question with a sharp smack to your breast.

“I-I was masturbating.” You mumble, squeezing your eyes shut, cheeks burning from embarrassment.

“No, you weren’t”  he says as a matter of fact before pinching your already stiff nipple making your eyes shoot open and you yelp in pain. “You were playing with your little virgin cunt. Now say it.”

There is no way you could say those words. Has he not humiliated you enough? You try once again to break free but he’s got an iron grip on your wrists and he’s sitting on top of your thighs. There’s no way you’re getting out of this.

He pinches you again but harder this time, twisting your nipple and keeping it there.

“I was ah­ I was playing with my v-v-irgin c- Dabi! Cunt! There I said it! Let go!”

He snickers at your pain but let’s go of you entirely, shifting his weight off of you. You’re grateful for the reprieve, immediately pulling up the covers to cover up your body again. You will yourself not to cry until Dabi has left the room or else you’ll never hear the end of it. But he’s not finished with you yet.

“Show me.” He sits down on your desk chair facing you, his legs spread wide.

“What?” Surely you misheard him.

“Show your Nii-san how you play with that ‘little virgin cunt’” He smiles using air quotations.

“Dabi, this is wrong-“ you whimper

“Touya-nii.” You furrow your brows in confusion and he says again. “Call me Touya-nii. I’m not leaving this room until I see what I want.”

Say what you want about Dabi but he’s a man of his word. You know he means what he says. The last thing you want is for anyone in your family to come home and find you naked in your room with your step-brother. It’s just better to do what he asks demands.

You slowly peel the covers off you, exposing your naked body to your step brother. He’s eyeing you intently, palming the growing bulge under his jeans. His sister was hiding such a hot little body, right under his roof and he had no idea. You can’t bear to look at him. You clamp your thighs shut to hide your pussy from him, a weak attempt to save what’s left of your dignity. You wriggle your hand in between your legs and you try to move it as best you can without showing him more of you.

Wait.

You’re wet?

You’re wet.

Well screw dignity I guess.

“Oh none of that.” Touya scoffs. “Spread your legs.”

You obey him and he rewards you with a low whistle. “What a cute little pussy.” He murmurs so low you’re not even sure he’s talking to you. You flinch, wanting to close your legs on instinct but a firm “Don’t” from Dabi stops you in your tracks. “Show me how my little sister likes to play.”

His words make your pussy throb but you’re still reeling, both physically and mentally at, the shock from your current position so when your fingers try to rub circles on your clit, they’re shaky and sloppy.

“That’s pathetic. Is this how you do it? No wonder you’re so uptight, you probably never cum huh? Put your fingers inside, I wanna see you stretch your little hole.”

“Dabi I-“

“I won’t ask you to address me properly again. Next time, you’re getting your ass beat.”

“T-Touya-nii. I’ve never… put them inside.” You mumble.

“Never?” He can’t hide the amusement in his voice.

You simply shake your head, unable to meet his gaze.

Fucking jackpot. He thinks.  This is why he loves virgins.

“Oh no. Does the poor baby want her Nii-san to show her how it’s done?” voice dripping with condescension.

You’re horribly ashamed. Disgusted by the whole situation. And yet you find yourself nodding.

Dabi crawls on to your bed, discarding his shirt in the process. Next thing he has you flipped over, ass in the air, lying across his lap.

He spanks you, hard. Like he always does, loud smack echoing through the room. You cry out like you always do but it’s different this time. It’s different because this time you’re naked, on top of him. It’s different because you can feel his hard-on poking into your stomach. It’s different because everything about the situation is making you clench.

He grips the sore, reddened flesh and pulls apart your cheeks to look right at your fluttering hole. His thumb finds your clit and he starts to rub slow circles into it. “I meant what said you know. This is the prettiest fucking cunt I’ve ever seen.” You let out a whine as you feel his warm, wet spit land right on your opening, before Touya slides a long, slender middle finger into your tight pussy. He uses his other hand to hit you again. “You’re a good girl right? What do good girl’s say when they get compliments?”

Your head is spinning from his ministrations, so much so that a verbal response escapes you. You’re too busy bucking your hips against his hand. Dabi snaps you out of your trance with another spank, even harder, so your feel the sting spread across your glute. “Hnnghh… thank you Touya-nii.” He rewards you with his ring finger finding its way inside you as well. “Shit.” You say through gritted teeth. You clench around him trying to adjust to the foreign sensation.

Whack. This time on the other cheek, both burning red by now, you’re sure. “Where’d you learn to talk like that, naughty girl?” The way he’s moving his fingers inside you feels like he’s looking for something, you have no idea what. It’s not unpleasant but uncomfortable. You turn your head back to look at his face. It’s the same face he makes when he’s rolling a joint or playing video games with his friends. He’s concentrating. “Fuck, relax for me princess.” You’re trying. You’re really trying. You take a deep breath, trying to think about anything other than the way you’re being stretched.

Then it hits you. An overwhelming ecstasy, spreading from your groin, all the way down to your toes. You figure out that’s what he’s been looking for.

You find yourself grinding down onto his bulge in an attempt to escape the onslaught of his fingers, but it’s no use, not with the way his thumb is circling your throbbing clit.

“Can’t even take two fingers in this tiny pussy huh? How are you gonna take my cock?” Dabi gives you a third finger and the stretch is officially unbearable.

You can’t do anything but pant in his lap while he holds you down, making sure that you keep still. Suddenly, you realise the gravity of the circumstances you find yourself in. Your step brother is going to fuck you and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“God, please slow down!” You cry out. He keeps hitting that spot over and over. It’s too much. You look back at him with tears in your eyes, pleading for reprieve. The satisfied smile on his face lets you know that he couldn’t care less. You feel an orgasm building, stronger than any that you’ve given yourself.

“No God here, doll. Just the Almighty Dabi. And guess what? He wants you to come for him.”

Even before he finishes his sentence, you’re already convulsing on top of him. For a moment you forget how debauched the situation is. Being debased by a man who you not only despise but are related to. All feelings of shame are replaced by pure, hot bliss that sets your nerves on fire. Dabi does not relent. Not until the please you feel is eclipsed by the pain of oversensitivity and you’re writhing in futile attempt to escape.

Dabi pulls his fingers out of you and wraps his other hand around your neck, dragging you up to face him. He holds his fingers, covered in your cream, right in front of your face. “Messy slut. Clean them.”

Before you can respond the fingers press against your lips. You have no choice but to take them inside your mouth. He grips the back of your head while you lave your tongue over his fingers, sucking off your release. He’s keeps a tension on your strands that makes your scalp sting. It’s a silent warning to keep your eyes on him. You’ve caught on by now that he wants this to be as humiliating as possible for you. As if coming on your step-brother’s fingers weren’t humiliating enough. He shoves his fingers deeper, making you gag around them drool seeping from the corner of your mouth.

“Good girl.” He growls as he wipes his saliva covered fingers dry on your face. Again, you fight back the tears of embarrassment. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

Dabi prompts you with cruel tug on your hair. “Gah! Th-thank you Touya-nii.” You whimper.

“Hmm.” His hands move to your hips and he rolls his hips to grind his hard cock into your core. “You want Nii-san to fuck you now?”

Your bottom lip quivers. Is he giving you an out? You pray to God that Dabi is giving you a way out of this. You doubt God cares about what you want right now but still, you hope he can grant you this one mercy, you’ll make it up to him somehow. You shake your head no. You probably look so pitiful right now, naked on top of Touya while he bucks up against you, your own spit streaked across your face, barely stopping the tears in your eyes from spilling.

“Liar.” He sneers. “You want your big brother to split that virgin hole right open.”

You’re stupid for thinking he would give you a way out. You realise that now. No point in trying not to cry. Nothing is gonna stop him from getting what he wants anyway. You can’t hold back the choked sobs anymore

“Such pretty tears, baby.” Dabi coos at you. “Don’t worry. Nii-san is gonna give you exactly what you want.”

He picks you up off of him and positions you exactly how he wants, on all fours, swollen cunt exposed for him. He kneels behind you and you hear the sounds of him undoing his jeans. You turn your head back, curiosity getting the better of you. Your eyes find Dabi just in time to see him free himself from his boxers, which join his jeans bunched at is knees. The sight makes your eyes go wide. It’s your first time seeing one in real life. Were they supposed to be that big? And… pierced?

He quirks a brow at you, smug look plastered on his face. He strokes himself in front of you, spreading his pre-cum along his shaft. He’s tilts it upwards to make sure you get a good look at the vertical barbell that goes through his tip and three horizontal, parallel bars along the underside. “You look scared. Don’t worry princess, Big brother Dabi’s gonna make it fit.” You feel his tip press against your opening and brace yourself.

You’ve heard stories from your friends. You know the first time hurts but God nothing could have prepared you for this .Touya makes good on his word, sliding his entirely until your pressed right against his pelvis. The scream you let out is ear shattering but you can’t help it, the stretch is excruciating. The way his piercings catch on your walls only, intensifies the burn. You crawl toward your headboard instinctively, it’s too much. Way too much.

He’s not having any of it. Dabi pulls you up to him with a hand wrapped around your throat until your back meets his front. “Shh shh shh. Don’t run baby. You’re gonna take all of it.” He groans right against your ear. Without giving you time to adjust, he begins to thrust into you at a relentless pace. You have no choice but to let him use you.

“Who’s fucking you huh? Who’s making you feel good?”

“My nii-san. Touya-nii is fucking me so good.”

“Yeah fuck. Love this holy pussy” He delivers a harsh smack directly on to your clit, making you quiver in his hold. He laughs at your reaction. “Gonna say a prayer for me babe? I wanna hear it.”

“Huh?” You’re barely lucid, there’s no way you heard him correctly.

“Well you’re a little sinner slut now. You should probably ask for forgiveness. Pray.”

You’re sure you’re beyond salvation now but you submit nonetheless. “Have mercy on me, O God, according to Your unfailing love; according to Your great compassion.” You gasp as he tightens his hand around your throat. “Against You, have I sinned and done what is evil in Your sight. Oh fuck Touya-nii!”

“Bad girl.” Dabi gives you another strike right on your aching clit. “Don’t think God is gonna be very happy with you.” Dabi is though. Dabi’s very happy with you. Your tight, gummy pussy sucks him back in every time he pulls back. It just makes him fuck you harder, he wants to make you scream louder for him.

“Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Ngggghh Shit. Do not cast me from Your presence or take Your Holy Spirit from me.” You’re sobbing outright, gasping to get air into your constricted throat.

“You gonna cum? My bad girl gonna come for her big brother?” Dabi grunts into your ear.

“Yeah close Touya-nii.”

“Hmm me too.”

“NOT INSIDE TOUYA-NII” You begin to thrash in his arms.

“S’matter princess? Don’t wanna have your big brother’s babies? That’s hurtful.” He snickers. He releases your throat in favour of pressing you into the mattress, large hand resting between your shoulder blades. “Better cum before I do then.”

The ridges of his piercings rub up against that same sweet spot, over and over again. You’re dizzy from the lack of air and absolutely drunk with pleasure on his cock. Pretty much the only thing tethering you to this existence is the unforgiving grip he has on your ass, digging his nails into your flesh. He reaches his hand around to rub your sore, puffy clit. It pushes you over the edge a second time. You feel every muscle contract and relax as the waves of your orgasm wash over you, making you cry out in bliss.

As soon as you come down from your high, Dabi has you flipped on to your back and is straddling your torso. “Keep praying.” He mutters. He furrows his brows, huffing as he jerks off on top of you, eyes focused intently on your gold necklace.

“Restore to me the joy of Your salvation and grant me a willing spirit to sustain me. Then will I teach transgressors Your ways, and sinners will turn back to You. Amen”

“Yeah, fuck that’s it take it baby.” Dabi sprays his come over your chest, aiming his load right on your cross, a symbol of your devotion to Christ, defiled. He looks absolutely euphoric watching the ropes of his hot cum slowly run down onto your nipples and down the valley of your breasts

“Don’t you fucking move.” He pants, catching his breath. He picks up his phone and you hear his camera click. He looks at the picture and smiles. You look absolutely fucked out. Hair disheveled, face red and bloated from crying and completely covered in his load. Yeah a real good, Christian girl. He thinks.

“Dabi! No!” You lunge forward, trying to grab his phone from his hand. Almost effortlessly, Touya shoves you back onto the bed.

“Relax. No one’s gonna see it. Not unless you snitch to mommy and daddy.”

“You promise?” You grab the tissues from your nightstand and wipe yourself clean. The smell lingers though, along with the grimy feeling, seemingly embedded in your skin. You look up at him, sniffling, tears still rolling down your cheeks. If he were better person, he’d take pity on you for being so fucking stupid.

“Promise, little sis.” He shoots you a wink as he tucks himself back into his jeans.

Before he’s left your room he’s already sent the picture to his friend, Shigaraki.

[sweettodo]

eren jaeger x reader.

includes : smut, college au, bad plot, enemies to lovers-ish, hate sex, mention of anal play, swearing.

wc : 3k.

thank you for 700 followers ! and since it was just mr. jaeger’s bday, why not a little fic ?

—

"This is your fault, you shouldn't have let the door shut, the door gets jammed."

"How was I supposed to know?" he replies coolly, you shove past him, frantically grabbing the doorknob and turning it, back and forth. It was no use, the old wooden door was jammed tight into the frame, not even he could get it to budge.

"Are you hard of hearing?"

"Out of all people, I get stuck in a dingy bedroom with you."

—

It wasn't the best. It was border-line decrepit, all sorts of unkempt; but admittedly, it was all you and your friends could afford.

Doing what you could to stay afloat with rent, not to mention your thousands of dollars in college debt, you couldn't necessarily afford to stay on campus; so, you sought out any possible preventative strategy not to go back home, what any adolescent college student would do.

"Well, it's homey... I guess?" Connie announces, cautiously seating a box on the ground.

Beside him, Jean wipes his forehead, "are we getting paid for this?" he questions.

You raise an eyebrow, "Yeah, sure, whatever you want."

"Thanks, boys, that's enough for now, hungry?" Sasha smiles, placing a pizza box on the kitchen counter.

Truly, the house wasn't that bad, though there were some problems like any old home, like the creaky floorboards which dipped downwards in some areas of the house, or the shudders Jean had to nail back into place, or maybe that one non-working bathroom.

Yes, there were some issues, and you knew one thing for sure.

Do not close your bedroom door.

It jammed, and it jammed easily, which you found out the hard way when you had to have your two roomies pry the door open the previous day, hence the rock from outside being positioned to stop the door from closing entirely.

You all sit on the floor in the living room, devouring pizza and drinking as you all conversed and laughed.

While Connie is getting up to pour himself another drink, there's a knock on the door, "oh, finally- thought he was gonna bail on us!"

Connie quickly places his cup down and jogs to the front door, all eyes follow him.

"Eren!"

"What took you all day? Connie and I did practically everything!" Jean complains. Your face heats, fists clenching.

"I did not invite him." You grit, Mikasa glancing at you, concerned.

"Calm down, he's more man-power."

"We've done so much without him, why does he even bother?"

Eren dismisses your complaining, he sits down and grabs a piece of pizza, "it's not like a chose to come here, Mikasa wanted me to."

Your eyes drill into Mikasa's skull, she knew how you felt about him, and she knows how he feels about you. She brushes off your daggers.

"I'm not here to help you," he proceeds, "you wouldn't catch me dead."

"Well, while Jean and I run to the store to get more nails, how 'bout you help the girls?" Connie says, ignoring Eren's last remark.

"I don't need his help, I'm okay on my own."

"Y/n- take his help." Sasha nudges, "free labor."

Your perspective of Eren was nothing short of revulsion, his only conversation piece is how many women he's slept with, how he struts around like he owns the place, he's quite contemptuous, selfish, and arrogant.

He felt similar towards you, often the first one to ruin his day. The way you were so prideful, he too thought you were arrogant, he hated how you made him feel inferior, you were a challenge- you both were complacent and it drove him fucking nuts, as did you.

Standing from the floor, you brush your hands on your shorts, "I'll be in my room," you mutter, trudging up the stairs.

"You outta' help her, Eren," Sasha says, watching you walk up the stairs, "please."

The brunette shakes his head, "hell fuckin' no."

"Eren," Mikasa speaks lowly, her tone compelling, he rolls his eyes.

Picking up the screwdriver from the floor, pushing your hair out of your face, you get down on your knees and lift the bottom half of your bed frame, the little screw in your empty hand, you groan.

"Need a little help?"

Your head snaps around, "get out of my room, now."

"I thought you were this rough-tough- independent woman?" he ridicules.

You ignore him, "can't even put a bed together, how pitiful."

He steps closer, leaning against the door in your room, which was propped against the wall with the rock, his arms crossed tightly against his chest, "get out of the way."

"No. Eren I got it."

"Just get up and let me do it."

"I'll ask Mikasa, she's stronger than you anyways."

"Give me a break, how about you swallow your pride for once, you can't do everything, y/n."

He scoffs, attempting to absorb the insult, "plus, she isn't here, she and Sasha left." Your eyes widen, feeling much more uncomfortable than moments before. You gently place the bed frame on the floor in front of your knees, sighing, "let me do it-"

He slowly stands from his position, his foot knocking the rock out of place as he leans off the door following behind him, as he steps further into the room, you leap towards the shutting door.

"Eren! The fucking door!" you cry, seeing it shut mere inches from your grasp, "it doesn't open from the inside!" you shout, scrambling to your feet, Eren quickly turns, his hands landing against the old wood as he tries to pull it open, but it was too late.

"This is your fault, you shouldn't have let the door shut, the door gets jammed."

"How was I supposed to know?" he replies coolly, you shove past him, frantically grabbing the doorknob and turning it, back and forth. It was no use, the old wooden door was jammed tight into the frame, not even he could get it to budge.

"Are you hard of hearing?"

"Out of all people, I get stuck in a dingy bedroom with you."

"Spare me your kind words, Jaeger." You grumble.

"Where's your phone? Call Mikasa or Jean." Eren pats his pockets, in search of his phone.

"It's downstairs- my phone."

"So is mine," he sighs, sticking his hands in his pockets, "aren't I lucky; stuck in a room with a prissy bitch."

"Do you like making me mad, Eren? Because I'm not one of your hoes you can insult and get away with it." Gritting your teeth, he smiles cheekily, God you can't fucking stand him.

He remains silent, while tensions rise within the walls of your room, avoiding his eyes, you uncomfortably shuffle your feet, looking at the wood flooring beneath you, Eren is beside you, pacing, "I'll break the fucking thing down."

"You better not. Or else you're paying for it."

"I'm not paying for shit," he contends, "it's your shitty house, your shitty door, my shitty luck.”

You face him, he rolls his eyes, "if you break my door, Jaeger..." you threaten, sticking your index finger in his face.

"What are you gonna do? Y/n?"

You cross your arms, he shrugs and turns around on his heels, grabbing the doorknob and trying to pry the door open, he steps back and cracks his knuckles, "Eren, don't you fucking do it." You grab him by the back of his shirt, he stops.

"What are you gonna do?" he leans down to meet your height, tilting his head, "gonna punish me?"

You gulp, "how about I fix your bed while I'm here, since I'm so nice."

"No." You spit, "I'll do it, you stay in the corner and shut up." Pushing him away, but he stands still, a smug look still on his face.

"Why be so difficult?"

"Why do you always need the last word?" anger seething within you, little pieces of hair falling from the loose bun the hair tie he had holding back his bangs, you looked in his eyes, just waiting for him to speak.

"Do you like being stubborn?" Eren steps closer, as a result, you're stepping backward, and soon he figuratively has you backed into a corner.

Eren returns the glare, your heart thumping out of your chest, throat dry and closing by every second he kept his brutal eyes on yours.

You swallow, "always trying to make me mad, right?"

"Not everything is about you, Jaeger."

"No, but it is about you though," he hums, "don't you want me to shut up? How about you try to shut me up- since it's always about you."

You hadn't picked up on the sudden rush of adrenaline that pumped into your veins, which made you - quite literally - want to crumble, but you remained dominant. His rather vibrant eyes were tough ones to overpower, you guys just stood there, trying to wield your dominance over the other.

You two were power-hungry.

Eren on the other hand was trying like hell to prevail calm, you made him so mad, made him fucking furious, he contemplated leaping out of the second-story window, though one thing was keeping his feet grounded, looming over you.

And that was defeating you.

"I reckon you have more of a problem with me rather than the other way ‘round, you don't like it when I argue with you, Eren?" you teasingly pout, snickering in his face.

His eyes are low, seductive even, you had never seen him in this light, he looked restless, but he was undoubtedly annoyed.

It's his turn to smile, his fingers snaking around your wrist, pulling you down onto the mattress which lacked pillows, sheets, and a headboard.

You comply, his fingers anchoring into the back of your hair, pulling your head back, your neck training, “you gonna shut me up? Y/n?" you're speechless, seems as if he beat you to this little game.

“You piss me off. Jaeger.” You sneer, he leans down, face inches from your own.

“Yeah? I make you mad?” he purrs, dipping his head down towards your neck and pressing his lips against your ear lobe, chills erupt on every inch of your body.

You're left speechless once again, breathless as his hand slips down the curve of your waist, up to your thigh, stopping at your knee, “yeah... You do.”

He uses your knee to push your legs onto the bed, his hand guiding you, he swiftly gets on the bed, back against the wall; placing his palm on the back of your neck, pulling you between his legs, trapping you as he's kissing you firmly.

You're taken aback, but return the kiss, his soft lips colliding with yours, he tasted amazing, but you wouldn't admit that to him.

As if the gates had finally bursted open, your motions are picking up speed, he’s fiercely pulling at your shorts and without a second thought, you're rushing to tug his shirt over his head, giving hardly a second for air before you're kissing the man again.

What’s gotten into you?

You adjust so he can pull your shorts over your knees, flinging them across the room, your hands wandering up and down his chest, feeling his toned stomach beneath your fingers.

His big hands are grabbing you by the back of the thighs, pulling you closer to him so he can easily pin your back to the bed. With a huff, he kisses further down your neck, his lips tickling your skin as he begins to lift the thin shirt towards your chest, kissing down your stomach.

Eren can't take it anymore, all that was going through his mind was how soft your skin was, how good you smelled, the way he felt you shiver under him when he kisses the sweet spot on the side of your neck.

He uses the pad of his thumb to press against your damp panties, you gasp, his thumb locating your clit instantly and applying pressure on the swollen nub.

“Stop teasing, Eren.”

He smirks, slowly applying little circles over the thin undergarments, pinning one thigh down at the same time, he watches your face scrunch.

He leans down between your legs to kiss you again, pulling down his jeans in the meantime, you feel his erection through his boxers, pressing against the crevis between your thigh and cunt.

He sits up, yanking down your panties along with his boxers, your eyes nearly fall out of your head, catching a glimpse at the sheer size of the man.

He spits in his palm, messily stroking his cock a few times before making sure your leg is secure on his shoulder.

No words needed to be spoken- no conversation could be made at the fact things were moving so fast, similar to hungry animals, like a switch flipped and here you two were, soaking for a man you despised.

His tip slips up and down towards your entrance, repeatedly teasing you against your folds with his throbbing tip.

Finally, he gradually slips past your entrance, his head rolls back, body virtually falling weak as he soaks in those spongy tight walls, sucking him in immediately, “fuck,” is all he can sputter out, taking his time to seep deeper inside you.

He stretches you out, Eren’s veins which were wrapped around the base of his cock pressing against your electrified nerves, your back arching, quietly moaning as he eventually stuffs you with as much as you can take.

“You hate me? This pussy sure doesn't.” he grunts, retreating before rocking his hips back against you.

Your leg drops from his shoulder, “on your hands and knees, now.” he demands- not having to tell you twice, he’s quickly grabbing you, and with ease, you're now on all fours, exposed from the waist down, Eren’s hands spreading you open, pulling your ass apart so he can get the perfect view of his cock fucking into you.

This gives Eren the chance to now fit his whole length into you, crying out into the bare mattress, feeling his tip stab against the entrance of your cervix.

He pulls out, one hand steadying your waist and the other holding your ass, “such a tight cunt, can't even fit it all.”

Eren splits you open, thrusting into you while simultaneously pulling your hips against his, skin slapping, the both of you moaning as you're already releasing cream all over his cock.

You feel his thumb caress the skin around the valley of your ass, “such a pretty little hole, want me to fill this one too?”

With no hesitation, you're crying out a sloppy mantra of ‘yes’, and he follows your decrees, his thumb slipping past your unoccupied hole.

You instantly clench around him, the pressure of another hole being stuffed.

Nearing another orgasm, he ruts his hips against your thighs, seeing white, your stomach tightens, body attempting to escape the harsh pressure, unraveling from the arch you were trying hard to maintain.

“Again?” Eren’s amazed at the sight, your cum seeping from your pussy, soaking the little patch of curly hair above his cock, down your thighs and onto the mattress, your leg quivering as he spares you no mercy, shamelessly fucking into you.

He holds your hips steady, “Eren, s’ big, I can't-”

“Can't what? Can't take it? I thought you were such a strong girl?” he taunts, cruelly rutting into you.

You're drooling, tears falling down your face as he fucks you senseless, “fuck you,” you mewl, he slows, but still keeps up his strong and stabbing thrusts, your body still jolting every time his cock hits your cervix.

“Fuck-in’ hate you, hate you s’much.”

“Yeah? You hate me? But look at you,” he hooks his thumb deeper into your asshole, “you’re crying for more.” You wail, gasping for air, you craved more, the way his hips knocked against your ass, sending shock waves throughout your body.

“I think I love this sloppy little pussy, too bad you're such a bitch.”

He grabs you by the roots of your hair, fingers hooking and balling your hair into a tight fist, pulling you upwards, gasping for air, “Eren-” you moan, balls slapping against your slick folds and raw clit.

His thrust becomes more sporadic, nearing climax, he savors your warm and squeezing walls before you hear him hiss loudly, his head falling back, eyes screwing shut as he's dumping a load into your abused and stretched little pussy.

“Such a good cunt for an annoying bitch.” He mumbles.

Eren rocks his hips into you, making sure your cunt is sucking and every ounce of his seed is emptied from his cock.

He swears, softening cock slipping out of you as he quickly drops down onto the bed, wiping the sweat from his forehead, you're barely able to flip over, holes still twitching.

All you two can manage to do is catch your breath, the air knocked out of both of you, his seed mixed with your own still oozing out of your cunt, and onto the bed.

He sits up, chest still quickly rising and falling before he's moving off the bed and throwing his clothes on, throwing you your shorts, “get up so it looks like we did something productive,” your head in the clouds, you try to put your shorts on, he sees you and mutters indecent things under his breath, “what? Did I fuck you stupid or something?” you stand off the bed, and he quickly lifts the bed frame off the floor and pops the long screw in.

You peek out the window, the sky a dark milky blue- and to your surprise, there are your friends’ cars.

“Connie, you owe me twenty bucks!”

“Eren, I think they're already home.” You mumble, pulling open the window to get some air before walking back towards the door of your bedroom, pounding on the door, “open the door for me please!”

You give it a few moments, standing there in a daze- legs trembling.

You try to maintain the steadiness of your legs before someone struggles to push the door in, essentially un-jamming the door. Jean is there, with a clown-like grin on his face, Eren looks at him and groans, shaking his head before Jean begins to speak.

[admiringlove]

mAN I AM SO EXCITED TO REQ THIS FOR UR 1K EVENT BB UR WRITING IT JUST 😚🤌 ugh so poetic i love it congrats again bb more milestones to come <3

when you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives – lauren eden WITH MY BOY KUROO ANGST TO FLUFF PLS ND THANK U STAY HYDRATED MWAH

things we hate about love.

send in a poem and a character for your participation in my 1k event here.

when you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives.

— lauren eden.

you're not too sure how everything turned into what it was now, but it was really too late to back out now. words suspended in the air with irritation woven into them, tension lacing your bodies like a sheen of sweat, brows furrowed and upturned into a knot—everything seemed to go tumbling down. it's probably because the words being oh-so-casually thrown around the room hold actual meaning to you, and him, which is why it hurt. 

it hurt like stepping on a barbed electric wire. it makes you wonder how you even got here on a saturday night, but you can only come up empty. 

pause. rewind. what's the root of the problem at hand?

back to thursday, when you came home late from work and he was already in the kitchen doing dishes as you gave him a disapproving look? was it because you were exhausted because of work too? surely, it couldn't be because of a problem as small as him eating without you. this was a bigger problem—every single one of your hopes and dreams was at stake, of course, it wasn't something as small and unimportant as a sole dinner.

and the last time you two spent a day together? when was that? when did it all go wrong? when did you lay in each other's arms to find comfort, instead of facing away and tucked in tightly? 

you couldn't say, exactly. so rewind a little more, what started all of this in the first place? it went back and forth like a tennis ball across the court, teetering between the two of you. who was right? who was wrong? like a seesaw weighing back and forth, you fought almost every single day about the smallest of things. 

"oh come on, it's not like you come home on time everyday, either!"

"tetsurо̄, it's three-forty-seven in the fucking morning. i come home at nine!"

so back and forth it went, this game of tiny disparages that you didn’t discern nor voluntarily do. yet, there they were, tiny cracks that were finally fissuring together until the entire picture shattered. 

pause. rewind again; back to when you were in that coffee shop by your campus talking about his date who didn't like the fact that he was a workaholic—you wondered back then if he'd see anything in you, and when he did it sort of unfolded into a beautiful turn of events.

"why do you even care?"

"because i love you, goddamnit!"

that night, at nine-twenty-two in the evening, as you stared at one another after getting wet in the rain because you both forgot your umbrella, he finally kissed you as tears of joy flowed freely from your jovial eyes. his hands held you as if you were the most fragile person in the cosmos, as he whispers in your ear that he loved you too. he called you his then, making promises that slowly became worn out over the tides of time. 

they're right when they say everything is sunshine and rainbows in the beginning, because it was. you were satisfied, he was content, it was like a dream come true. your friends were happy for you, giving you advice yet warning you at the same time. 

everything was sunshine and rainbows—until it wasn't. staying up late at night for him to only come home from work and going straight to bed without even saying a word to you made you agitated. when you did the same, he wouldn't spare you a glance and mumble curses under his breath. did you go out with your friends for the night? he has a scowl on his face in the morning when you wake up with a hangover. what about him, when he's out who-knows-where until he rings the doorbell, being completely hammered? 

it was all small things. the dinners that went amiss, the nights spent alone, the smallest of remarks, the scowls, the rolling of eyes. whatever it may be; in the beginning, it was just a small fissure until it wasn't.

pause. fast forward to around six hours ago when a company called you to offer a job in a different country. when he heard you say you'd get back to them, he huffed angrily, turning his back on you as he stomped away into the bedroom as you stood in the kitchen, looking at him with wide eyes. 

(were you going to accept it? maybe, maybe not. was there going to be a fight tonight anyway? yes.)

"do you even care anymore?" he bursts out, running a hand through his hair as his shoulders quiver the slightest bit. your eyes widen now, forgetting all the insults. your mind is hollow as he removes his glasses and looks away in regret, falling limply against the sofa as he says, "what the hell happened to us?"

"i...i don't know," you mumble under your breath, sitting down next to him as a lump hangs in your throat. the tension is so thick that it can't even be cut with a knife as he removes his reading glasses and places them on the coffee table, looking at you with adoration and lament at the same time. you clear your throat, locking your eyes with his as you say, "what if i don't take that job?"

"that's what you don't understand, the job isn't the problem," he sighs. you furrow your eyebrows, waiting for elaboration when he continues, "i just... felt like i was losing you already. and i didn't want to."

you suck in a breath as you almost immediately reply, "you won't."

he lets out a dry chuckle, one that almost sounded like a pitied laugh. you give him a look as you then say something that makes his heart melt, something that reminds him of you back in high school when you comforted him after losing in nationals, "you know i love you no matter what, right?"

"i know."

and just like that, his mischievous smile is back.

hi gwen(ily hehe) <33 thank you for participating in my event for 1k! if anyone else wants to do so, here’s the event masterlist for the rules!

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[nctsworld]

just let me adore you

✩ jaehyun x reader (ft. mark) | fluff | campfire au | 2.3k → summary: in which the sparks between you and jaehyun burn brighter than the fire in front of you.  → warnings: fluff, flirting, swearing, kissing, wingman!mark whoo let’s get it → rating: teen+

→ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Laughter atop of wooden logs and wisps of smoke from the recently made fire fly towards the darkening sky on the beach. On the topic of fires, you and your friends are now reminiscing about when Haechan almost set his house on fire on more than one occasion. 

Your face is stuffed in Mark’s shoulder, unable to control your fit of laughter. As you pull away to breathe, you see a familiar group of men walking closer. Your eyes widen in reaction to one in particular.    

“You didn’t tell me Jaehyun was coming,” you spew behind the gritted teeth of your smile, leaning into Mark while having your gaze still locked on the group approaching. 

“Whoops?” Mark shrugs nonchalantly. You punch the imp smile off of your best friend’s face. He mumbles an ow and rubs the tender spot.

“Could’ve at least given me a heads up, you little shit.” 

“Maybe tonight you two will finally—hey, guys!” 

His words are cut off as the group finally arrives at their destination, greeting everyone perched on the logs. 

You may as well have flung yourself into the flames when Jaehyun flashes you a smile and maybe it’s all in your head, but you swear his eyes are fixated on only you.

Jaehyun and you were in an... odd spot. 

You may have gone to the same university, but the campus was huge, and you only ever really saw each other during large mutual gatherings, like tonight, so it was hard to get to know each other when you were often encircled with your particular clique. 

You two were mutuals on Facebook, but there wasn’t any concrete reason for you two to message each other out of the blue. However, you’d be lying if you said you never opened up the chat, stared at the blank conversation, and spent more time than you’d admit in thinking of a message to muster up. 

Yet, during only the handful of times you’ve been around Jaehyun, you liked being around him. He was sweet, like how he gave you pointers during the get-together at the bowling alley, and Mark has only said good things about him, giving him the seal of a best friend's approval.

Sure, it was a little awkward at times. Small talk was the norm, but neither of you could deny that there was something itching under the surface between you two. Maybe some nurture and care was all that was needed to break the chemistry free.

Or maybe all that was needed was tonight.

Because the logs near you are already occupied, Jaehyun and the latecomers sit across from you. Jaehyun’s in your direct line of sight with only the fire coming between the two of you.

The night falls as the blaze burns stronger and higher, becoming the only illuminating presence on the beach. Although conversations are all about, everyone’s attention is on it. Flames dance, entangling with each other in freedom. Orange and yellow hues reflect off of every face surrounding the warmth. It’s uncommon to see unconstrained flares like this often, so the rarity adds to the addictive pull of them. 

Everyone’s attention is on the fire, save for two people. 

You prefer listening to others speak and don’t really say much unless elicited, so you spend a lot of your time appreciating the beauty of the things surrounding you—at the rolling ocean waves, up at the stars, or across the wavy haze at the figure before you.

And when you aren’t looking at Jaehyun, you’re unaware of how he’s appreciating the beauty in front of him too. 

Back and forth, neither of you expect to lock eyes, but when it inevitably does, neither of you break away. On the contrary, Jaehyun offers a side smile, which showcases his dimple, and a modest wave. 

Returning his gesture with a giggle and a weak wave back, you then pretend to listen to neighbouring dialogue for a moment. 

Five seconds later, you can’t help it and steal a glimpse of him once more. 

You’re surprised to find him beaming back. 

Even though Mark’s preoccupied with telling the recent story of him winning another watermelon eating contest, he sees you smiling in his peripheral vision. His mouth still runs off, but he turns his head and sees that Jaehyun's the reason behind your smile. Although the eye flirting makes him mentally gag, he fully supports your pursuit if it makes you happy. 

Catching on, your best friend stands up to “stretch his legs” and moves closer to the ones he’s talking to, continuing the anecdote while standing. Not even a minute passes, and it doesn’t take much for Jaehyun to make a break for the empty spot next to you. 

Jaehyun doesn’t sit as close to you like Mark did, respecting your space, but is close enough to have you nervously plucking the fabric of your jeans. 

It starts off with the normal small talk, asking how classes have been and what you’ve been up to lately. Immediately after, silence takes over. 

Now that he’s in close proximity, looking at him feels like a sin. Nevertheless, you still commit the crime, stealing little glances at him throughout the bustling chatter and crisp crackling. 

Feeling overwhelmed by the silence, you grasp onto more small talk, which unfortunately soon reduces to you just rambling. Throughout it all, Jaehyun doesn’t say anything. All he does is nod and listens intently, leaning closer to you with his forearms on his thighs to capture everything that you’re saying. 

When you take a breather, he finally speaks up.  

“Although I love to hear you talk,” his voice is low and gentle, sending a small shiver down your spine. “And by all means, you can keep talking, but don’t feel pressured to fill the silence.” 

He pauses for a beat, and you peer over to view him lowering his head. 

He’s rubbing one thumb over his other, and the friction only makes his palms sweat more. Tingles reach Jaehyun’s ears, and he ponders if you notice it under the dim glow. 

“You don’t have to say anything at all; I always like just being around you, even if we aren’t talking.” 

The cool air blows, calming you along with his words. A shy grin spreads across your face. Feeling more at ease, you shift towards him, closing the empty space between you on the log and letting your leg lean onto his. Jaehyun’s focus trails from your leg to your face, and he dives deeper into your perfection with another of his famous, sweet dimpled smiles. 

Despite Jaehyun’s reassurance, you two slowly start to converse with less tension. Through the night, you get to know each other bit by bit, unravelling each other’s life stories, yet simultaneously writing a new chapter, intertwining the lines of your lives together.  

Additionally, you begin to melt for Jaehyun’s jokes. This is a first, to hear him joking around like this, but you soon find yourself laughing into his shoulder like you did with Mark not long ago.

And Jaehyun adores how you click with his humour, but he adores your laugh even more. 

Someone remembers that they brought snacks in their bag, and fast enough, marshmallows are being passed around. Jaehyun, along with a few others, hunt along the beach and come back with stray sticks for the sweet treats. 

As you two roast marshmallows, you’re sitting in comfortable silence, exchanging glances every so often. Suddenly, he lays a hand on yours, pulling it back along with the stick.  

“Careful,” he warns softly into your ear. “You don’t want a burnt marshmallow.”

Your breathing hitches, thinking about the only other time Jaehyun touched you.

It was during Johnny’s birthday dinner at a buffet restaurant. You were in the midst of devouring your food when your hair got in the way (out of all the days you forgot a hair tie, it had to be today). Failed attempts transpired at moving it; you blew, you shook your head, you rubbed the loose strands against your upper arm sleeve...

“May I?” 

His delicate inquiry made you freeze. Jaehyun already finished his food and offered his clean hands to fix your dilemma. You were so dedicated to finishing your meal that you forgot that he was right next to you, probably thinking you were a hot mess.  

Regardless, you nodded. You gulped as he daintily tucked the strands of your hair behind your ears. His touch was so brief, so simple. He barely ghosted over your skin, and the moment fleeted as fast as the way your hair ran through his fingertips. 

So if his touch was so simple, why was your heart bursting at the seams? 

Your heart thumps against your chest just the same now as it did then. Maybe even more, since you turn to face him and he’s so close, you feel his warm breath against your face. Your gaze slowly wanders to his lips. Subconsciously, he licks them, and you catch him staring at yours too. Your mind’s drawing blanks, while your body takes control. Both of you draw your bodies nearer and nearer until someone hollers—

“Dude, your marshmallow’s burnt!” 

Both of you stop in your tracks and whip your heads towards the fire, realizing it’s Jaehyun’s marshmallow that the person is referring to. Hastily, he pulls it away, blows the flames off, and stares at the charred piece with a pout. 

“Well, I guess you like burnt marshmallows though, huh?” 

Jaehyun turns to you again, watching you chew your marshmallow with a smug expression. Shaking his head, he runs his tongue along his bottom teeth.

“Hey, for the record, I saved your marshmallow from being burnt.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, sure,” you hum, still chewing, then getting up. “I’ll go get us some more marshmallows. Maybe extra for you, in case you burn more.” 

He clutches his chest in jest at your quip and watches the way you saunter over to the bag, his eyes full of hearts, yet regret courses his veins over how the moment was ruined. 

It’s past 1 AM, and the combination of the summer air and ocean waves pack a bite that urges you to go home. You’re both standing near the fire, waving at others who are leaving, when you begin to say you your good-bye.

“I should also get going.” Your hands are in your pockets, feet kicking at the sand. 

“Is Mark your ride home?” You nod in reply and open your mouth, ready to tell him how nice the night went with him. 

“Can I…” he abruptly cuts in before inhaling sharply. “I was wondering if you’d let me drive you home?” 

Your jaw drops at the suggestion, causing his expression to change instantly. “Unless you’d prefer Mark to, I totally understand.” 

Obviously, you accept without hesitance, and run off to Mark to inform him of the change of plans. After hugging him and saying your good-byes, Mark whispers, “Don’t stay out too late.” Then, he gives you a wink before you run to your driver for the night, walking side by side with him back to his car. 

Because it’s late and you’re both a little tired, the ride home is quiet, albeit for Jaehyun’s music playing in the background and when you begin to speak up to give directions on how to get to your place. Rolling up in front of your home, he turns the ignition off, but leaves the music still on. 

“I had a great time with you tonight,” he says with a hand still on the steering wheel. 

Tucking your hair behind your ear, you nod, “Me too.” 

Anticipation lingers in the air for a while prior to Jaehyun cutting it with a question you’ve been dying to hear. 

“Are you free next weekend?” 

You press your lips together, trying to hide a smile back. 

“Only if you are.” 

He laughs with a shake of his head, amused at your playfulness. He can definitely get used to this. 

“I’ll message you when I get home and we can work out the details soon.” 

“Sounds good,” you sway a bit in your seat whilst holding in your excitement. “Well, good night, Jaehyun.” 

Your fingers are on the door handle, but you aren’t quite curling them around it.

“Good night,” he says your name in a hush and you look back at him. The two of you match eye contact and get lost in the gleam of each other’s starry eyes. 

You’re unsure who made the first move, but it doesn’t matter because his kiss scorches you, melting you into putty. As you think you’re about to fall apart between blissful sighs, Jaehyun catches you with each caress, holding you together by your cheeks and the nape of your neck.    

Breaking away for air, you lay your forehead against his, panting, “Wow.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly. “I’ve been waiting to do that since I burned my marshmallow.” 

No coherent thoughts are running through your mind, except your yearning for the man in front of you. All you want is him and his touch on your skin again, so you agree with his sentiment by diving in again without warning. 

It takes much strength for you to finally depart from each other’s embrace for the night, but when you do, Jaehyun plants a kiss on the back of your hand and wishes you sweet dreams. 

Exhausted and in disbelief over tonight’s events, you quickly change out of your clothes and tuck yourself into bed. Unfortunately, sleep is near impossible because your mind replays everything over and over.

Suddenly, your phone lights up, notifying you of a new message. 

Little did you know you’d stay up messaging the man on the other end until the sun rose. 

Next weekend really couldn’t come fast enough.

[dazz-linglight]

INCEPTION

Pairing: Werewolf!San x Werewolf!Reader

(should I make this a series?)

Genre: AU Fluff/Smut

Every werewolf knew that when they completed 18 they were ready to find their respective mates. Mates are made for each other, chosen by the Moon to be their permanent love. San was already 21 and had yet to find his and thinks about her everyday, asking the goddess to bring his mate soon and his wish was finally granted on his first day of the second year in college. He was just walking in when a sudden new scent caught him off guard. A strong, sweet and powerful scent in its ability to tug at something deep and primal within him giving urges he had never truly felt until this moment.

You were walking through the campus with a friend when he got hit by the strong scent of cinnamon and coffee coming from you, making him dizzy and euphoric, his heart beating faster and even faster when your eyes met his. He couldn't contain the big smile that occupied his lips, instantly being full of love while you went through the same, falling hard for him and leaving your friend to follow the path until the two of you were just centimeters apart. His scent of honey embraced you all over when he reached to touch your face, wanting to know if you were real or if he was dreaming again.

"My Luna.." When you smiled at the nickname he wanted nothing more than to kiss you and he did exactly that, smooching your cheeks first and then going to your lips, hugging you by the waist while you brought him closer by the shoulders, getting on the tip of your toes to match his height. You separate after a minute to recover the air, keeping close to each other.

"Choi San." He finally presented himself.

"Ah.. I'm ________" You said laughing softly until remembering where you were. "Oh, I have to go to class! Here, give me your number.." You took out your phone and gave it to him, he immediately typed the number and saved it as My Sannie ❤️, soon giving it back to you.

"Can I take you there?" He asked biting his lower lip.

"No, you have class too, I don't want to make you get late. We can get lunch together?"

"Yes! Okay, then you better go, then I can see you sooner." He said pulling your hand to his lips, leaving a cute kiss on your skin and then letting you go.

"See you soon, San!" You said waving at him and going back to your friend, also a werewolf, who was closer watching the whole thing. The two of you went to into the Business building, telling her everything you felt finding your mate.

|••••••••••••••••••••|

During class, San had saved your contact as My Mate ❤️ and sent messages to you, starting a game of questions to get to know you better and you got to know about him too, going back and forth with preferences, dislikes, food, family and friends and so on. At the end of classes, San told his friends and the alpha that he finally found his mate and they were happy for him, a few of them already found their mates and some of them not. On their way out of the campus, San kept looking around trying to find you but you found him first, coming from behind and covering his eyes and he smiled turning around to see you.

"Guys, this is my mate, _____." He said looking at his brothers proudly then back at you, burying his face on your neck to rub his scent on you and you waved at them.

"Hi.." You stand on his side to get a better look at his brothers, still holding San's hand and one of them laughed at San who hasn't stopped looking at you with his gold eyes.

"This is our Alpha Hongjoong, the taller ones are Yunho and Mingi, Seonghwa, Yeosang, Wooyoung and our youngest Jongho." The one who laughed was Wooyoung.

"It's funny to see hyung so whipped." Wooyoung was one of the the boys that didn't meet his mate yet, so he found funny how mates seemed hypnotized by each other.

"I bet you will be worse when you meet your mate, Wooyoung." Hongjoong said laughing at the thought, knowing Wooyoung was already clingy with the members of the pack and everybody agreed. You were happy to see that everyone in San's pack had a light spirit and good sense of humor.

"Well, let's eat? I'm starving." The youngest said between them.

"Chicken!" Yeosang smelled chicken from afar and started walking in front of them. San squeezed your hand and led you inside the restaurant.

|•••••••••••••••|

Finishing lunch you pulled at the hem of San's shirt to get his attention and he immediately looked at you, passing a hand on your shoulder and bringing you to peck your cheek.

"San, will you come home with me?" You asked him quietly, wanting to have time alone with your new found mate, which quickly accepted.

"Guys, we'll be going first." San told them already getting up from his seat and pulling your bag on his shoulder, you following after saying your byes.

"Don't forget to use protection!" Yunho said before you two were far, receiving a slap from Hongjoong and making the others snicker.

San drove you to the other side of the city where your pack belong, holding your hand while you guided him. Your fellow friends were surprised to see you with company, but were quick noticed it was your mate by the way he held you and the cute smile on your faces. Getting inside the house, the two of you left shoes and bags at the door while your inner wolf was screaming for you to pounce on him.

"We have the next 3 or 4 hours to ourselves before the girls come back.. I want to confess something before we go to my room." You said nervously picking on your fingers and San frowned, petting your hair to try and calm you down.

"You can tell me anything, baby" You lay your hands on his chest looking up to his brown eyes.

"I have plushies in my bed.." You broke eye contact to look at his broad shoulders not for long until he held your chin up to look at him again.

"No need to be ashamed for that. Wanna know why?" You nodded at his questions and he brought his face closer to your neck, whispering the next words.

"I have plushies too." He smiled looking back at your surprised face.

"Really?"

"Really, I'll show them to you anytime or even bring them here so they can be friends." He showed his dimples and you smiled too, touching his cheeks with the tip of your fingers, happy to be surrounded by his warmth.

"I'm so glad that you're here.."

"Me too, I've been waiting for so long to find you." He rested his forehead on yours and closed his eyes.

"Please mark me.." You voiced your desire before being able to control your words, your inner wolf excited to finally get into action while San's wolf was also happy to oblige to his instincts, bringing you up to wrap your legs on his waist and followed your scent around the house to find your room. He placed you down in the middle of your bed and you pulled him for a heavy kiss, trying to cease any little distance and soon San was leaning down to kiss and bite your neck, all the clothes coming off one by one until you were both naked and exposed.

"You look so perfect, love.." San kissed down your throat, collarbones, chest and everywhere he could till reaching your core, inhaling your arousal and held your thighs apart, connecting his lips onto you. Every bit of self control he had until now we're thrown out the window as he eats you out, driven by your wetness, moans and the way you pulled on his hair so deliciously. His tongue moved fast and strong, giving you waves of pleasure and he felt delighted for making you feel good. You were almost there and tapped on his shoulder, making him look up.

"San please.. I want to cum with you.." Your legs twitched and he stopped, sitting up and lifted a hand to clean his lips, licking the wetness on his fingers at the same time he stroked his hard on, getting closer to you once more and positioning you in dog style and making himself comfortable behind you on your center. He pushed in slowly to not hurt you and when he finally got it in you listened to the deep growl coming from his chest as he bottomed out and soon his pace speeding up gradually, making you get louder and louder.

"Can I?" He whispered nuzzling under your ear and you knew he was talking about the mark, wanting to hear you say it again.

"Yes, make me yours." He let out a low groan, brushing your hair out of the way and planting his fangs in the space between your shoulder and neck, creating the mark only mates could to seal the bond. It gave you both a rush of adrenaline and happiness that caused you goosebumps, your scents getting mixed in the air, sharing the warmth and fondness of each other and it made you cum faster, squirming under his hold for a few seconds as he continued to thrust in and out until he reached his own climax, knotting you and having the two of you stuck together for the next minutes.Soon he laid you down in a spoon position and pulled you in for a kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

"This is the best day of my life." He giggled a little breathless, his chest shaking against your back you smile at the feeling, scooting impossibly closer to him.

"I can't believe you're real."

"I'm very real." He squeezed your hip and you hide your face on your pillow with a laugh.

"Do you to go for a run later?" You asked curious to see his wolf form.

"Oh yeah, I bet you're the prettiest wolf ever."

"I bet it's you." You bicker playfully and San covers your face in kisses, tickling your sides.

[ackerfics]

hange and their best friend (reader) "platonically" flirt with one another, they use pet names for each other, making others think they're together unintentionally. until reader finds an s/o, not knowing hange actually likes them

she — hange zoe

— hange zoe x female reader (modern au)

— warnings: angst ??? the stinging feeling you get when you see someone you love, love someone else

— summary: hange's best friend found love in the form of autumn while hange associates her with all of the seasons.

— word count: 2.5k

— notes: i love hange but i hate myself for writing something that hurts them :<<< they're my first love in aot and it pains me to imagine them hurting in any sort of way (which is probably the reason why i bawled my heart out in chap 132). this little fic hit too close at home for me bc it's exactly what i felt one time during high school. it's fucking traumatizing and istg, i don't want to relive falling in love with a friend again, it's like the most satisfying way to hurt, too. happy reading tho :<<<

reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

She embodies everything positive in Hange’s eyes.

She is spring — the bursting of blossoms under the tendrils of sunlight seeping between the spaces of the trees in the woods. Every time Hange closes their eyes, they are reminded of how she signifies every single flower they ever know. She makes them feel everything at once — see every color at once in a single frame. There is no space for artistic abilities in Hange’s calloused, mismatched hands but when it comes to her, they can create a myriad of paintings encapsulating her beauty at every stroke of a brush. Her laughs, her flowery perfume that doesn’t hurt their nose, her smiles that are as radiant as the early morning Sun — are ingrained in their brain. She brings forth the butterflies that Hange carefully imprisoned in their ribs, the monarchs’ wings already seeping through the cracks at every joke she makes, reaching to their heart until every beat swayed to the sound of her giggles.

“Hange, the love of my life, there you are!”

Hange turned around with a huge smile on their lips. Their conversation with Levi came to an abrupt stop, with the shorter man mumbling along the lines of ‘here we go again’. The small smile on his face spoke otherwise while watching two of his closest friends hug each other as if they didn’t live together in an apartment right outside of campus. It was such a mystery that Hange could be so comfortable around someone to the point of playfully kissing their neck in public, followed by their best friend’s melodious laughs soon after. However, Levi couldn’t be fooled. He knew the glint in the brown-haired person’s eyes. The downturn of their eyebrows when their best friend wasn’t looking. The longing was apparent when she was talking to someone across the room.

The idiot going by the name Hange Zoe was irrevocably in love with their best friend, [Name] [Last Name].

“What is it, baby?” Hange asked vibrantly, glasses reflecting the equally excited girl in their arms. “Didn’t know your class dismissed this early. What happened?”

“Nothing. Our professor announced that we should visit a museum for our finals.” She then mimicked the haughty tone of her Art History professor, straightening her back to make herself appear taller. “Choose a painting or a sculpture and trace down its history and attach your critique in the final output. If I see anyone half-assing this paper, I will not hesitate to give a failing grade that will make you retake this class. I know you lot don’t want to see me again for another semester and I don’t want to see you again, too. So, prove to me you’re worth your standing in this course.” She cleared her throat. “What he said.”

Hange whistled. “Dang, I’m happy that I didn’t follow you to the Arts Department. Your professor sounds like a complete asshole.” They chortled the next second. “Sounds like my mom, to be honest.”

“At least your mom makes a bomb bento box.”

“Yeah, I guess, you’re right.” Hange then nuzzled their face in her hair. “But your bento boxes taste much more delicious — I could eat them all day. Can I be your partner so that you’ll cook for me every day?”

“I’ve already taken the position of your wife the moment I agreed to be your roommate in university, sweetheart. And I cook for you every single day so you don’t have to ask to be my partner because you already are.”

Hange looked smug at her reply, the heat in their cheeks traveling to their ears. “That was a rhetorical question but hearing those words come out of your mouth, it’s making me feel things.”

“Oh? What are those things?”

The brown-haired person snickered under their breath, glancing at Levi who was now looking at the two of them in that lazy way of his that might come off as him being annoyed again. In reality, he was only waiting for the two to finally stop flirting to recognize he was there. His daily job of being a third-wheel should’ve started fifteen minutes ago but Hange wouldn’t let [Name] go. Hange turned back to the expectant girl. “I don’t want Levi to hear what I’m about to say. Just expect something back at the apartment,” they joked, a cheeky smile tugging at their lips.

[Name] laughed heartily. “I’m looking forward to that, gorgeous.”

“I’m still here, you know?” Levi dryly made himself known. He huffed and turned around in the direction of the university restaurant. “Come on, lovebirds, let’s have lunch. Oh, and [Name]?” When he heard her little hum of acknowledgment, Levi slightly turned around to meet his friend’s eyes with his jaded ones. “It’s your turn to buy me a drink. Make it a venti today.” She only blinked at him, giving him no choice but to resort to that dumb thing she always asked. “Please can I have a venti this time? I got you and Hange a venti last time so this makes us even.”

“Ooh, make mine a venti, too, baby!” Hange squeezed their best friend’s waist.

“Anything for my sweetheart.”

“Again, I’m right here, you know.”

Just the thought of that little scenario hurts Hange.

But as much as the pain comes in the package, she is still summer in their eyes.

The Sun can’t compare to the brilliance of her smile. Kind smiles and gentle touches under the warm rays of the summer heat. Her scent is yellow to Hange — so bright and warm that they don’t care how long they bask in her presence, never caring if they get burned because it feels so right to be within her orbit. She urges them to feel so loved and so special, tender caresses of her warmth cascading down every vein until it reaches their heart. The cerulean waters of the sea hold nothing against the beauty of her grins, brown eyes searching for her every time of the day no matter how ethereal the world painted itself to be. Viewing the sights with rose-colored glasses is what they may call it but for Hange, it’s simply her. Someone once said that summer brings forth a paradise where blue covers everything in its wake, the cry of the seagulls reverberating in the distance, and the scent of ice cream flickers in the breeze. For Hange, summer is in the form of pretty close-lipped smiles, of late-night movie marathons on a worn-out couch, of bento boxes filled with their favorites, of a scent so saccharine, and a loyal friend.

A friend.

Of course. No matter where Hange goes, that word haunts them. Hidden beneath their smiles, their jokes, their longing, and admiring stares. It’s a reminder of where they stand in this limbo they created. At one point, they thought that line had been crossed only for it to be established again in permanent ink. And before they know it, Hange is tumbling down in a spiral, along with a change of seasons.

Fall is where everything started.

The orange glow of the leaves created the perfect view as she sipped on her tall cup of warm coffee. The blissful sigh that came soon after warmed up Hange, even though they were seated in front of each other in the outside tables of the small cozy café where Levi was working at. The chill brought by the autumn wind caused both of them to shiver in their layered clothing. The way she nuzzled more into her scarf made Hange coo, reaching out to pinch her cheek affectionately. Autumn was both their favorite season, how it made them resort to the comfort and warmth their sweaters bring, or how they cuddle in each other’s beds with the air conditioner blasting despite the cold. It was also a season where Hange could admire her in their hoodie, a piece of clothing that swallows her whole because she’s so small compared to their lanky figure.

Hange remembered being called out here because she wanted to talk about something. Now that they thought about it, her cheeks appear to be glowing more than usual and she kept glancing inside the café where Levi was busy telling his coworker how to make the new drink. Hange even went as far as following her gaze but they didn’t find anything out of the ordinary other than Levi sighing in that stressful way of his that always made them snicker. They turned back to their Sun, who was once again in a daze while staring at the clear windows of the café. “So,” they prolonged the syllable, “how’s life going, darling? I know we’re living in the same apartment but I just can’t help but ask you this because it seems like you’re always in a daze these days.”

A pause made the breeze’s call known.

“Hey, Hange, have you ever been in love?”

That spread the chill even more inside Hange’s chest. She called them by their name. Not sweetheart nor big spoon. The reality washed over Hange like a pail of freezing water.

“W-What?” Damn, they couldn’t keep the stutter off their words.

She turned her head to them, eyes so soft and smile so beautiful that made Hange breathless for one second. The butterflies dwindled, losing their iridescent wings when they realized that look wasn’t reserved for them anymore. “I thought about it,” she murmured, rubbing her numbing fingertips on the warm cup. “I have never fallen in love with anyone before. Sure, I love you and all our friends but I’ve never stopped and thought about how someone can look like starlight in front of me. But recently,” again, that pretty smile that pierced Hange’s chest, “I never knew that it could hit me that unexpectedly.”

Hange grinned despite the pounding of her chest. “So, who’s the lucky person?”

She chuckled, going back to staring at the interior of the café. “I told Levi to lay off on scolding her but he never listens, says she’ll never grow a backbone if he’s being considerate on her.”

Now, they’re confused because the only people manning the counter as she spoke was Levi (and she would never fall in love with Levi, seeing as they grew up together like siblings rather than the childhood friends that they are) and a strawberry blonde who looked like Levi’s become their worst nightmare. It took Hange a full minute to process that the person she’s been staring at was never their mutual friend, but the strawberry blonde who looked up towards their direction and waved with a pretty blush on their cheeks. She waved back with the same shyness, leaving Hange dumbfounded. “Wait, the person you’re in love with is—”

“Yeah, it’s her.”

Suddenly, Hange understands why she’s starting to like autumn.

It reminds her of the girl’s hair, which she gushes about smelling like coconut. It reminds her of the girl’s preferred perfume, how it smells so much like cinnamon, something that she sometimes puts in her autumn drinks because in her words, ‘it’s the perfect season rather than winter’. It reminds her of the girl’s hugs, the way both of them fit with each other like lost puzzle pieces.

But as the seasons change, feelings of long-term pining will always be constant.

“Are you okay, though?” Erwin asked them, blue eyes reflecting their pathetic faux smile. He pushed the plate of pasta to them since Erwin had an idea that Hange wasn’t eating that much now. It also worried [Name].

“Yeah, four-eyes, I know you’re not doing that great and I’m saying this in the friendliest way possible because we’re worried now,” Levi reminded them, sipping on his tea with slightly narrowed eyes. “You always decline whenever we want to bring you to somewhere, to the point of leaving Nanaba on voicemail. You always answer at the first ring. Look here, shitty four-eyes,” the way Levi enunciated the nickname made Hange slowly turn their head to him, face void of the smile they were known for, “shouldn’t you be happy for her? [Name] gained the courage to confess and you’re here moping when you should’ve been supportive—”

“And what of my feelings, Levi?”

That made Levi blink and feel like an asshole.

Then, the dam broke.

“I’ve been with her all this time, you’ve seen that. You witnessed how this shy girl opened up to an extroverted idiot and became one of her best friends during high school. It feels like I can’t fucking breathe because I always thought we were meant to be. When she was lonely, I was there to comfort her. When she got a bad grade on an exam, I was the one who knows what flavors of ice cream she wants or how she eats them together like a fucking milkshake. Every day, I never expected her to look my way like she looks at her girlfriend right now. It fucking hurts. It feels so empty to know that I’m not the one she fell in love with. What did I lack? Should I be sweeter and gentler like that girl? Or dainty whenever I eat like she is? Be girly and dress up like a doll? Fuck, I can’t even bring myself to hate her girlfriend. She’s so nice and kind and sweet, anything I’m not.” Hange buried their hands in their hair, making it messier than it was.

“I just want [Name] to love me and make things wonderful. Why isn’t Fate on my side this time?

“Why didn’t she choose me?”

Tears were now drifting down like snowflakes.

“Hange,” Erwin murmured.

“Look, sunshine, it’s snowing!”

A voice catches their attention. A strawberry blonde cheers the words with glee painted in her eyes. Beside her is the subject of the trio’s conversation, the subject of a brown-haired person’s affections. Her eyes are taking in the beauty that is her girlfriend. She looks so pretty in love — how her eyes crinkled at the corners and how snow clung on her eyelashes as if she is a fairy straight from a fairy tale Hange loves when she was a kid. Her girlfriend takes her hand and pulls her to the restaurant where the trio is watching from the windows. Gray and blue irises slide over a somber bespectacled person, gauging their reaction though their face never gives anything away.

“I’m right behind you, Petra. I just took the time to admire you because you’re so pretty under the snow.”

“Stop it! You’re prettier!”

“Did you know that seeing the first snow of the year together with the person you love, your relationship will rival that of eternity?”

“Then, I’m happy I get to see this first snow with you, sunshine.”

“Me, too, angel.”

Hange smiles under a steady stream of tears. “I’m happy for her. I’m happy she found happiness even if it’s not with me.”

The chill blows inside the warm walls of the restaurant the moment the door opens, [Name]’s joyous greetings for her best friends bringing smiles to two of them. Her eyes drift to brown ones before turning to Petra to ask for a pack of tissues since Hange’s tears are still visible. Hange watches the commotion with a small smile, the chill spreading through them like a snowstorm.

Winter is here.

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@angelofthorr

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

Sparks Pt. 4

Summary: Peter Maximoff comes back after a weekend at home to find Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters crowded and booming with noise. He decides to investigate and finds out that it's orientation day for new students. He sees you and immediately is head over heels, but in his attempts to impress you he embarrasses himself beyond belief and runs off before you can even introduce yourself.

Read Part Three Here

All the new students chatted excietley among themselves wondering what you guys were being called to the garden for. There were only a handful of you guys about 20 or so but when it comes to mutants that number was massive. You too were excited to find out what was going on, you tried your best to ignore the slight feeling of embarrassment you had, you had almost told Peter you thought he was cute. A part of you was relieved that Jubilee had spared you of a possible rejection but the other half wondered what his reaction would have been. 

“What ya thinking ‘about?” You felt yourself jump up at the sudden noise, scaring Jubilee who was holding onto your arm. You whipped your head to the side to see Peter standing there leaning on Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt pushed him off and went behind you squeezing next to Jubilee muttering about how everyone took advantage of his powers and never thanked him. You shot him a smile as he passed by and he returned it. If only you could have seen the way Peter’s disappeared for a moment, before snapping right back when you turned to face him again. 

He opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by Professor X pulling up at the front of the crowd. “Thank you all for coming, I hope you have all met your roommates and hopefully were able to get acquainted before I interrupted you all. Well before Peter interrupted you all.” Everyone laughed and Peter gave a little bow and waved like he was the queen of england. “So what we will be doing is a display of abilities for our new students.” Everyone started whispering at this but Professor X put his hand up as a signal for silence. “I know it can be unnerving especially if you still can’t fully control your powers. But this will give me and the students here a chance to see what your abilities are and what your skill level is at. That way I can assign you to the appropriate classes and you can find students with similar powers or struggles to help you while you are here at this school.” He smiled at the crowd, hoping to ease their nervousness. “When you come up give us a short introduction and then a small display of your powers. Who would like to go first?” The crowd fell silent, everyone absolutely hated the idea of telling the whole school about yourself and then showing your powers. “Come on now, one of you has to get it started.” 

“(y/n) wants to go!” Peter blurted out. 

“Excellent,” Xavier exclaimed. “Come on up Dear.”

Your eyes widened, shaking your head rapidly back and forth. Peter reached for your hand and gave it a little squeeze pulling you closer so he could whisper in your ear. “It’s better if you go first, you get it out of the way and you don't have that feeling of dread while everyone else is going.” You gave him a skeptical look, he gave you a reassuring smile. You yielded and gave him a quick nod. The crowd parted to make way for you as you awkwardly walked to the front. “Hi my name is (y/n) (y/l/n). I am 19 years old and I enjoy painting and I really like movies.” You felt your hands shaking slightly. You always hated doing these introductions, and it wasn't helping that the crowd was so quiet. 

“I love movies!” Peter shouted, easing the tension. You looked up from your feet to see his beaming face. “Do you like Karate Kid!” You laughed, as did the crowd. You were grateful that he was trying to make you feel more comfortable. 

“Yeah I like Karate kid.” You responded. 

“Do you like Daniel or Johnny!?” He shouted again. “Cause I personally prefer-”

“Peter!” Xavier interrupted, glaring at him. “Stop.” 

“This conversation isn't over!” Everyone continued to laugh at Peter’s antics, the feeling of nervousness you had had was long gone. 

“Anyway,” Professor X did his best to redirect the conversation back to what it was originally intended to be. “If you don’t mind Ms. (y/l/n), show us what your abilities are. 

“Yeah okay.” You gave him a nervous smile and took a deep breath. “My powers aren’t all that strong. But I don’t mind,” You looked around for how to display your power, it was getting dark in the garden, there were lights in the garden but they were very dull and gave off very little light. You held your hands out slightly, a soft light surrounded your hands and you flicked your wrist up. The small action caused light to pour from the lamp posts, illuminating the whole garden and allowing everyone to see clearly. You could now see Peter beaming at you, his smile the brightest thing in the garden. “I can manipulate electricity.” You explained letting the lights dim slightly. “It’s a weaker version of the power so I can’t actually wield electricity and form it into what I want, but I can affect things that require it.” You made the lights dance softly and flicker on and off. “I can also do this other thing but I need a volunteer.” You admitted face burning with a slight embarrassment. You don't really like showing off. 

“I’ll do it!” Kurt’s hand shot up in the air, he beat Peter to volunteering. His hand was paused slightly before he lowered it. Jubilee shot Peter a knowing look at seeing his disappointed face. He avoided her gaze. Kurt poofed form where he was to the front of the crowd right next to you. You wave the smoke away and take his hand in yours. As soon as they connect a slight shock goes through you to him and Kurt’s hair stands comply on edge from the electric shock. “This is amazing!” You giggled at his reaction and he gave you a toothy smile. Peter formed look at you and the way you looked at lane another, from here it was hard to tell if it was one of admiration or one of affection. An unknown feeling settled into Peter’s chest as he watched you two hold hands. Something he couldn't quite place. 

“I can send electric charges to people that I come in contact with.” You explained. “It can range anywhere from a small shock out of nerves or a full on electrical shock, with the same power that a defibrillator can distribute.” You let go of Kurt’s hands and his hair fell back down. “If I can control it then the power wears off when I stop touching them but if it's out of nerves or shock it may leave their hair standing up.” Peter remembered how his hair had stayed on end when you had held his hand.

“Thank you (y/n). That is a very fascinating power. “Xavier gave you a gentle smile and you returned it before making your way back to Jubilee. She complimented your powers and said that you guys were meant to be friends and roommates because your powers were similar. Professor X called up another student and they gave a quick display similar to yours. It went on until everyone had gone and you were at least familiar with one another. Professor dismissed you guys yet again and informed you that dinner would be served in the hall. Tonight's meal was going to be grilled cheese and tomato soup. 

“Grilled cheese?” Jubilee whined. “I’m so sick of grilled cheese they serve the same food every week.” Jubilee looked around to make sure nobody was near. “What do you say we get some real food?”

“But I thought we weren't allowed to leave campus.” You questioned.

“That’s just a suggestion, if you can find a way out who says you have to stay.” Peter said pushing himself between you two, hands slung over both of yours shoulders. Jubilee shrugged him off and he settled for just having his arms around you pulling you even closer in a side hug. “Let us show ya some fun newbie.” 

You bit your lip debating it. While you were thinking Kurt and two other students made their way over to you all. You remembered the guy and the girl from the earlier demonstration from the x-men. It was Scott and Jean. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Scott asked as he came closer. 

“Prison break.” Peter answered. “That is if (y/n) here agrees to letting us show her a good time. The x-men way.” All eyes were on you awaiting your response. A wave of excitement rushed over you.

“Alright let’s do it!” They all cheered. 

“I’ll drive!” Peter shouted. 

“No!” everyone yelled back, you let out a laugh. This was going to be fun.

I hope y’all enjoyed this chapter! Peter was interrupted before he got to say if he liked Johnny or Daniel from Karate kid? Who do you think he prefers 👀 who do you prefer ? I’m a Johnny girl myself